Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled in old houses once the world outside went to sleep. From the open window, a cool breeze drifted in, stirring the curtains and bringing with it the faint scent of grass and asphalt, the sharp tang of late summer air.

Danny lay sprawled across his bed, a thick textbook balanced on his chest: Stellar Formation and the Lifecycle of Stars. The cover was battered, the corners curled from too much handling, but Danny didn't mind. He liked old things, things that had been held and used and lived with. Things that felt real.

He turned a page lazily, letting his eyes drift over a diagram of a red giant collapsing into a white dwarf. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be sleeping since there had been no ghosts bothering him for once, and school would come early; Mr. Lancer would not appreciate another day of half-mumbled answers and barely hidden yawns. But the idea of closing the book, of shutting his mind off, felt... wrong somehow. Like tonight wasn’t meant for sleep.

His hand drifted to his chest, pressing lightly. There it was, that strange, almost reluctant thump... thump... Soft. Slow. Like his body couldn’t quite decide if it was necessary anymore.

He didn't panic. He hadn’t for a long time.

The first time it had happened, really happened, he’d been terrified. Fourteen-year-old boys weren’t supposed to go minutes without a heartbeat. They weren't supposed to wake up floating three feet above their bed, their skin faintly glowing, their vision a little too sharp, a little too other. But that was life now. Half human. Half ghost. A little alive, a little not.

Danny turned another page, the paper rough under his fingertips.

He wondered sometimes, late at night like this, what exactly he was. Not just the science of it, the ectoplasm, the hybrid biology, but what it meant. Had he died in that lab accident? Had he been reborn? Or had he just... changed? A mutation. A cosmic fluke.

Jazz would probably say he was experiencing a "post-human identity crisis." Sam would roll her eyes and tell him labels didn’t matter, that he was Danny, period. Tucker would suggest building a new app to monitor his vitals. Again.

He smiled faintly to himself at the thought. It was comforting, in a weird way, how completely they accepted it. Him.

There were bad days, sure. Days when he looked in the mirror and didn't quite recognize the white hair, the sharp glint in his own eyes. Days when the ghost zone tugged at him a little too strongly, when the cold in his veins felt like it would swallow him whole.

But there were good days too. Most days now were good days. Normal enough, anyway. School. Family dinners. Patrols around Amity Park when he felt the prickle of something off-balance in the air. Friends who laughed at his terrible jokes and still had his back, even when he phased through the cafeteria table during lunch.

Danny closed his eyes for a moment, letting the night seep into his bones.

It had been a while since any serious ghost trouble. Ember had gone quiet. Skulker hadn’t been seen in over two weeks. Vlad... Well, Vlad was Vlad, but he was staying out of sight, at least for now.

There were no world-shattering reveals. No government task forces hunting him down (at least right at this moment). No cameras flashing in his face. No whispered debates about whether he was a hero or a threat.

Not yet. Maybe not ever, if he was lucky.

Danny opened his eyes again and stared up at the ceiling, where tiny glow-in-the-dark stars from his childhood still clung stubbornly to the plaster. He hadn’t taken them down. He liked them — little ghosts of simpler nights, before ectoplasm and alternate dimensions and heartbeat monitors.

Maybe that’s why he loved reading about real stars so much. Stars didn't pretend to be anything they weren't. They lived, they burned, they died, completely brilliant and unapologetic. And even in death, they made something beautiful.

He turned another page, tracing the swirl of a nebula with his eyes.

Outside, a car rumbled past on the street, headlights sweeping across his window for a moment before fading back into darkness. Inside, everything was still. Safe.

Danny didn't know it yet, but that safety was about to shatter. In another world, not so far away, a chain reaction had already begun. A mistake, a flash of light, a moment of pure cosmic chaos, and somewhere in the deep, tangled web of realities, a thread connected to him had just been yanked loose.

But for now, Danny Fenton was just a boy in his room, reading about the stars, his half-dead heart beating quietly in the dark.

Gotham’s night pressed down like a living thing.

Fog crawled low to the ground, weaving through gutters and alleyways, swallowing broken streetlights and peeling billboards. The chill in the air was sharp and chemical, like a reminder that even the seasons acted differently here.

On the rooftop of a crumbling old theater, Damian crouched low, his cape pooling around his feet, his muscles thrumming with tension under his uniform.

The city whispered beneath him. Footsteps too fast on pavement. A distant wail of sirens. The restless flicker of movement in a narrow alleyway.

He breathed it in, all of it, the pulse of Gotham, and sorted the noise from the threat automatically.

Sixteen years old. Heightened senses, honed reflexes, a lifetime of training from the League of Assassins and then Batman himself, and still, this stupid city found ways to set his teeth on edge. It was part of why he loved it. And why he hated it.

Beside him, silent and still as a stone carving, crouched Batman. The cowl hid his expression, but Damian didn’t need to see his father’s face to read his thoughts. Focused. Calculating. Ready.

This was a routine patrol. They had swept from Robinson Park through Crime Alley, threading along rooftops, putting a stop to all manner of petty crime.

Muggers. Car thieves. Nothing worthy of full engagement.

Until now.

Damian’s eyes narrowed, tracking a knot of figures below. There were five men huddled in the shadow of a boarded-up pawn shop. They looked shifty and nervous. One of them was clutching something heavy under his jacket. They passed a duffel bag between them with movements too sharp, too tight.

Something more than a drug deal. Maybe weapons. Or worse.

Damian’s fingers twitched. He no longer carried a sword on his back, but he was still about to reach for one. It was instinct more than intention. He didn't need the blade as Robin. Not anymore.

He could end it in sixty seconds flat. Strike hard. Disarm. Disable. He could feel the plan snapping into place with the same crisp efficiency he applied to everything else. He was still all sharp edges, even without a blade.

But Batman’s gloved hand lifted slightly. It was a signal. Wait.

Damian bit back a sigh. Patience. Tactical advantage always outweighs impulse. He could hear the lessons etched in the gravel of Bruce’s voice, even unspoken.

Fine. Observe first. Strike later.

He shifted and leaped to another rooftop, positioning himself to block off any escape routes for when he did eventually jump down to confront them. His father would handle the opposite side. The air was damp against the skin of his face under the mask. Somewhere far off, a police siren bleated and faded.

The city was holding its breath. So did Damian.

Batman’s voice crackled softly in the comm in his ear. "Three armed. Two unknowns. Likely muscle. Take the perimeter."

"Affirmative," Damian murmured. 

He suppressed the flicker of pride he always felt at these direct orders. Batman was concise, and he was trusting of Damian’s skills without micromanaging. A subtle acknowledgment. He lived for it, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

He moved, liquid-quick, melting into the scaffolding alongside the building, preparing. His boots made no sound. The night seemed to fold around him.

The thugs were arguing now. Low, tense. One of them, the tallest one with a scar cutting through his eyebrow, gestured wildly toward the duffel bag he’d been handed. Another pulled out a clunky, jagged device from under his coat. It was crude and jury-rigged with exposed wires sparking where they shouldn’t and humming faintly with a sickly green pulse.

Damian frowned. That wasn’t standard street-level tech. WayneTech scans hadn't reported anything like this stolen from their labs. So it must have come from somewhere else.

Experimental, maybe? Black market? Whatever it was, it shouldn’t be on the streets.

No more time to wonder. Batman dropped first, a silent thunderclap of shadow and precision. In three moves, he had the closest man disarmed and unconscious.

Damian followed half a second later, flipping down from the scaffold in a low arc and landing squarely behind two startled gang members. One swung at him wildly, but it was still predictable. Damian ducked, slammed an elbow into his gut, grabbed his wrist and twisted brutally until the gun clattered to the ground. He swept the man’s legs out from under him and kicked the weapon away without even sparing a glance.

The second thug tried to run. Damian caught him by the collar mid-turn and slammed him face-first into the alley wall. A muffled grunt, a whimper, and then he crumpled.

Two down. Quick. Efficient.

He pivoted sharply, scanning for the others—

—and that’s when he saw it.

The last man, the fifth, the one he had momentarily lost track of, was dragging the pulsing device fully into view now. It wasn’t a weapon in the traditional sense. It looked more like a crude cannon, patched together with heavy cables and reinforced plating. Something scavenged and dangerously experimental.

The thug shouted something. It was a desperate, panicked sound, then he fired.

The world folded.

The air screamed.

It was like being punched not in the body, but in the space around his body. The ground shivered under his boots. The air tasted metallic and wrong.

The beam hit him square in the chest.

It wasn't fire, wasn't impact, wasn't even force. It was dislocation. Like something had grabbed the edges of his existence and twisted.

For a moment, Damian couldn’t move. His hands locked mid-defensive stance. The world blurred at the edges of his vision. All of the sounds dimmed and color bled out of the world until only the pulse of that sickly green light remained.

He stumbled back a step, teeth bared in a silent snarl, fighting for balance. Batman was moving toward him already in a dark bolt of motion, throwing a batarang that sliced the weapon from the thug’s hands. The device clattered to the ground, sparking and hissing.

The gang member bolted into the mist, leaving chaos in his wake. Batman didn’t pursue. Neither did Damian.

Because something far worse was happening.

A seam was splitting open in the alleyway air. A ragged, pulsing wound in the fabric of reality itself. Light poured from it brilliantly and unsteadily, rippling with barely-contained violence.

The concrete under Damian’s boots rippled again, like water struck by a stone. The stink of ozone and burning metal filled his nostrils.

His body still felt wrong, off, like he was standing half a step outside himself. But he shoved the disorientation aside, forcing his breathing back under control.

He squared his shoulders.

Something was coming through. Something that shouldn’t exist here.

Batman’s stance shifted subtly beside him. It was guarded and wary. Silent communication passed between them. Brace for anything. No assumptions. React fast.

The tear in reality pulsed, once, twice, and then widened.

The wound in the air pulsed again, a jagged ripple of light stuttering outward like a heartbeat. Damian tensed, reading every shift in the environment. He watched the way the mist recoiled from the tear, the sudden magnetic tug pulling at the tips of his fingers, the faint, high-pitched whine vibrating in the back of his skull.

The rip widened, spilling more of that searing green light onto the cracked pavement. For a breathless instant, it was impossible to see through it. Just a blur of shapes and noise and impossible motion.

And then—

Something, someone, stumbled through.

The boy hit the cracked pavement hard, a battered book skidding out of his hands and clattering into the shadows. He rolled instinctively, half-springing to his feet with a startled, graceless jerk that screamed not combat-ready.

Dark hair, dark clothes, lean build. About Damian’s height. A slight shimmer of green still clung to him, like smoke curling off burned paper.

The rift sealed behind him with a brutal finality, leaving only the heavy stink of ozone and the boy, blinking rapidly in the gloom.

Nobody moved.

Damian's heart hammered against his ribs, a sharp, dissonant rhythm. His instincts screamed for action, but his brain snagged, trying to process what he was seeing.

The boy dragged in a shaky breath, staggering upright fully now. His wide, vivid blue eyes swept the alley, then froze when they landed on Batman before they jerked to Damian.

The teen visibly startled.

His mouth opened slightly, words failing him for a moment. Then he blurted out, incredulous:

"There’s a new Robin running around?"

The sheer confusion in his voice hit Damian like a blow. There was no calculation there, no deception, just genuine bewilderment, like he’d stumbled into the wrong room during a performance.

Damian instinctively flicked his gaze toward Batman, seeking an anchor, and his gut twisted.

Batman was unsettled, too.

He was tense and evaluating, but with the smallest flicker of something Damian had seen maybe twice in his life: uncertainty.

If Father was thrown off, even a little, then something was very wrong.

Damian’s hand twitched at his side. Not enough to be obvious, but he felt the tremor all the way through his arm.

The boy stood awkwardly, hands half-lifted in a useless calming gesture, like he wasn’t sure if he should be surrendering or asking for directions. His eyes darted between them, scanning for cues, every muscle in his body tight like a cornered animal.

Damian stepped forward cautiously, into the hazy spill of light from the broken streetlamp.

That's when Damian really saw him.

The sharp line of the jaw. The cut of the cheekbones. The set of the mouth.

Older by a hair, maybe. Less rough around the edges. But the resemblance was impossible to miss now, clear as blood on snow.

He was looking at himself.

Not exactly, but the boy was similar enough to make Damian’s pulse stutter for a second. He was paler than Damian and had none of the same faint scars. His eyes were blue, not green. He had less of the corded muscle that Damian had, but was still lean. Anyone who saw them together, if Damian were out of his Robin uniform, would have thought they were brothers, if not fraternal twins.

The boy clearly caught the way Damian was staring and flinched half a step back, defensive.

"Uh," the boy said, voice cracking just slightly with nerves, "I'm not dangerous, if that's what you're thinking."

Damian blinked for a half-second longer than he should have. His mind raced uselessly, grasping at theories and throwing them out just as fast.

Clone? Shapeshifter? Hallucination?

Multiverse bleed-through?

The boy held up one hand in an ‘I come in peace’ gesture.

Damian barely noticed the movement at first. He was too busy trying to analyze the boy's reaction to the situation. But then his eyes flicked down and caught the faint scar across the boy’s palm, just along the curve of the fingers where the skin was slightly darker, almost as if burned. It didn’t seem recent, but it had the odd quality of not healing properly. The scar shimmered faintly under the dim streetlamp light.

Damian’s gaze flicked away quickly, uninterested. He didn’t have anything like that.

"You’re—" Damian started, then clamped his mouth shut.

He had no idea what he was about to say.

The boy shrugged helplessly, offering a weak, crooked grin.

"Believe me, dude, I'm just as confused as you are."

He glanced at Batman, then back at Damian, squinting slightly. "Though... you’re shorter than I thought Robin would be."

Damian’s eyes narrowed dangerously on pure reflex.

The boy blinked and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Not a fight comment, I swear!"

He paused, looking Damian over again with wide, slightly overwhelmed eyes.

"You’re just... really real."

There was an unspoken undercurrent there. Like where this boy, whoever he was, came from, there was no Robin. Not anymore.

Damian stepped forward another pace, ignoring the silent warning that Batman's hand twitched and sent him.

The boy didn’t back up.

He just... stood there. Watching Damian with this haunted kind of curiosity, like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or remembering something. He looked wary, but not scared.

The silence stretched, taut and electric.

Batman finally spoke, voice low and even but not quite hiding the edge of suspicion.

"Name. Now."

The boy startled like he’d forgotten that Batman was there.

"Fenton," he said quickly. "Danny Fenton. Sixteen. Uh... supposed to be in Amity Park, not—" He waved vaguely at the darkness around them. "Whatever freaking Gotham alley this is."

Damian’s stomach twisted sharply. Sixteen. His age exactly. Something was happening here (and though he didn’t want to believe it, he had the feeling that it was something bigger than clones or impostors).

It started with a shiver.

Danny knew he would regret his life choices the next morning when Mr. Lancer yelled at him in class for falling asleep, but he couldn’t put his book down, and uninterrupted free time was a rarity for him.

He yawned, lazily flipping a page.

Suddenly, somewhere deep in his core, that familiar tug prickled, the kind of sixth sense that usually meant ghost trouble. Only it felt a little different, not like a normal ghost, and that was enough to have him alert.

Danny barely had time to sit up before a portal, swirling green and sparking at the edges, ripped itself open in the middle of his room.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me—" he muttered.

He tried to react, to phase out, something, anything, but the portal moved too fast, like it had already decided. It yanked him forward in a heartbeat, the book slipping off his lap and falling forgotten onto the floor.

The landing wasn’t graceful.

He landed hard.

Concrete slammed into his shoulder, rough and freezing against his skin. Danny rolled with the impact, coughing as he tried to get his bearings.

It wasn’t his room. It wasn’t anywhere familiar.

It was an alley. A dark, grimy alley with the walls smeared with old graffiti and the lingering stink of smoke permeating. Streetlights flickered somewhere far off, throwing just enough light to see the wreckage of a fight: overturned trash cans, dents in the brick walls, a few unconscious bodies groaning on the ground.

"Ow," he muttered.

He dragged in a shaky breath, forcing his legs to hold him up. The alley spun around him, with its grimy brick walls, rusted fire escapes, and a cracked streetlamp sputtering weak yellow light. Then his gaze landed on a figure half-shrouded in shadow.

Danny froze.

No way.

No way.

The bat ears. The cape. The towering build that somehow felt heavier than the darkness itself. Batman.

Danny’s chest lurched, like the breath had been punched out of him a second time. His heart was thundering so loud he almost didn’t notice the second figure, someone smaller and quicker, standing a few steps ahead.

And then he did.

Red and black. A sharp, alert stance. Shorter than he expected, younger maybe, but unmistakable in that "I could beat you senseless without blinking" vibe.

Robin.

There was a new Robin running around?!

Danny’s mouth opened automatically, words spilling out before he could stop them: "There’s a new Robin running around?"

It came out loud and incredulous, echoing off the alley walls, way too raw. But he couldn't help it. The sheer whiplash of it. The last he had heard, Robin had stopped showing up years ago after the last one became Red Robin. There hadn’t been a Robin in years. The idea that someone had picked up the cape again (or worse, that something had reversed, after all, he wasn’t unfamiliar with time travel)  scrambled his brain in a way the portal just now hadn’t. What if he’d time-traveled again?

The kid in front of him, Robin, flinched slightly, like he hadn’t expected that. His gaze flicked toward Batman in a sharp, almost unsteady motion. For a second, Danny swore he saw it, a crack in the composure. Batman was unsettled too. Tense in a way that didn’t match the usual mythic cool of Gotham’s dark knight. Although he was just a person, even though Danny hadn’t ever had the chance to confront that fact before.

He knew he had just come through some weird portal, but there was something about how tense they were that told Danny it wasn’t just that. Something else was throwing the Dark Knight off. Something beyond Danny’s sudden appearance. Something about Danny himself. But what?

Danny barely stopped himself from backing up. His body thrummed with nervous energy, his muscles wound tight like he was about to bolt. He hated that he felt cornered.

He lifted his hands automatically in a useless little calming gesture, trying to show he wasn’t a threat even though every instinct screamed at him to get moving. His eyes darted between the two of them, searching for clues, any hint about what he was supposed to do now.

Please don't attack me, he thought wildly. I’m already so far out of my depth it's not even funny.

Robin stepped forward, the broken streetlight catching him full-on for the first time. And Danny, despite the adrenaline choking him, really looked at him.

Dark hair, messy but deliberate. Sharp features. About his height, maybe an inch difference at most, but it was hard to tell with the boots. And back to the hair... yeah, they had the same dark hair color, now that Danny thought about it. Danny’s hair looked the same after he fought ghosts. Though Robin’s hair was longer than Danny’s by a little bit.

But that’s where the similarities ended.

The kid’s posture was military-grade perfect, his shoulders squared like he was used to standing at attention. His movements were careful, calculated, and there was a hardness to his face that Danny knew he didn’t have, not even at his worst.

Still, when Robin stared at him, Danny couldn’t help flinching half a step back.

"Uh," Danny said, scrambling for something, anything, that would make this less terrifying, "I’m not dangerous, if that’s what you’re thinking."

Robin blinked for just a beat too long. Danny could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes.

The whole situation was wrong.

Not just the alley, not just Batman and Robin showing up like this. Something deeper, something woven into the air itself, the way it buzzed against his skin like a bad static charge. It made the whole world feel off, like a song just barely out of tune, one with familiar notes but the wrong rhythm.

He couldn’t explain it. He just knew.

Maybe it was the way the streetlights buzzed, or the way the city smelled sharper, harsher. Or maybe it was the way Robin was looking at him, not like an intruder, but like a mirror he didn’t understand.

Danny shifted awkwardly, lifting one hand again as if to say he came in peace. The motion pulled at the old scar across his palm, the faint tightness of it catching under his skin. He barely registered the way Robin’s gaze flicked down to catch it before snapping back up, guarded.

Danny offered a crooked, nervous grin that he knew probably made him look even sketchier.

"Believe me, dude, I’m just as confused as you are," he said.

Robin's mouth pressed into a thin line. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then cut himself off, scowling like he hated even thinking whatever was on his mind.

The silence stretched long enough that Danny felt like he had to fill it.

He glanced at Batman, who hadn’t moved an inch, then back at Robin, squinting a little.

"Though…" Danny added carefully, "You’re shorter than I thought Robin would be."

The kid’s eyes narrowed immediately, sharp and dangerous.

Danny winced internally. Way to antagonize a trained vigilante, Fenton. He quickly backpedaled, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish motion.

"Not a fight comment! I swear!"

Robin just stared at him, dark eyes heavy with something Danny couldn’t name.

Danny swallowed thickly. This wasn’t just ‘oh no I fell into a slightly different part of Gotham’ kind of wrong. It was foundational. Like gravity had tilted a few degrees when he wasn’t looking. Like if he scratched hard enough at the edges of this world, he’d find something broken underneath.

"You’re just…" Danny trailed off, trying to find the words, "really real."

And he meant it.

Not in the ‘wow you’re famous’ way. In the ‘you’re not supposed to exist’ way. Like seeing a ghost of someone who was still alive. Robin wasn’t supposed to be around anymore. There were no rumors of a new Robin.

Robin shifted his weight slightly, stepping closer. Batman didn’t say anything, but Danny saw it. The twitch of his gloved hand. A warning, maybe.

Danny didn’t move.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel like he needed to. Robin didn’t feel like a threat, not exactly. He just felt like something Danny wasn’t supposed to meet.

The air was tight and heavy, charged with something Danny couldn’t name.

Finally, Batman’s voice cut through the tension like a blade: "Name. Now."

Danny startled, like he’d forgotten Batman was even there.

"Fenton," he blurted out automatically. "Danny Fenton. Sixteen." He hesitated, then waved vaguely at the darkness pooling around them. "Uh... supposed to be in Amity Park, not, whatever freaking Gotham alley this is."

The second the words left his mouth, he felt it. Something shifted. Robin stiffened slightly. Batman’s eyes, he couldn’t even see them under the cowl, but he felt it, sharpened. 

"Come with us," Batman said. It wasn’t a question. It was a command. Solid as bedrock.

Robin didn’t move, but the weight of him stayed sharp in the air, watching Danny, measuring him.

Danny swallowed hard. He could refuse. Technically. His feet still worked. His powers still hummed under his skin, buzzing frantic and ready.

But he also wasn’t stupid.

The street behind him hissed and steamed where the broken portal had burned it open. That machine, whatever it had been, was wrong. The air was still wrong. Like breathing static. Like stepping out of phase with reality.

Running would be a fight. A fight he wasn’t sure he could win. And Batman wasn’t the bad guy. He wasn’t supposed to be. That didn’t stop the terror.

Danny shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers locking around each other, and managed a shaky, crooked smile. "Yeah. Okay. Lead the way, Bats."

Robin’s mouth twitched, unreadable. Sharp-edged.

They led him to the Batmobile, the real Batmobile, the one he’d only ever seen through grainy photos or sketchy news clips. It looked so much cooler in real life than Danny thought it would. Low to the ground. Sleek. Dangerous. Like something that didn’t roll down streets but hunted through them.

Danny hesitated half a heartbeat too long, then climbed inside. The door sealed behind him with a soft mechanical hiss, final as a tombstone sliding into place.

The ride was silent.

Not the good kind.

It wasn’t empty silence; it was heavy, thick with all the words nobody was saying, heavy enough to press against Danny’s ribs and make his skin itch.

He sat stiffly, hands crushed between his knees, legs braced against the humming purr of the floor. Every tiny vibration from the engine thrummed up his bones.

Robin sat up front, a perfect, unmoving shadow in the passenger seat. Batman drove like he wasn’t even separate from the car, just another piece of dark metal wired into it, inevitable and unstoppable.

The Batmobile’s engine wasn’t loud. It was a slow, steady growl that sounded less like machinery and more like breathing. Something huge and unseen, just beneath the surface.

Danny’s shoulder blades itched. The air inside the car was too tight. Too aware.

He shifted once, tiny and involuntary, and heard the faint squeak of leather.

In the mirror, he thought he caught a flicker of Robin glancing back. Batman didn’t even twitch.

The silence kept stretching. This was unbearable.

Danny bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t take it anymore.

"So," he said, aiming for light and landing somewhere around awkwardly terrified, "you guys do this a lot? Kidnapping teenagers from portals?"

Robin didn’t turn around, but Danny saw the tiniest flick of tension at his shoulder, there and gone. Batman said nothing. Not even a grunt.

The car just kept rolling through the wrong-shaped city, purring like something patient and predatory.

"Okay. Sure. Just me, then," Danny muttered, shrinking a little into the seat, and turned to look out the window.

The cityscape dragged by. At first glance, it was Gotham, but every second he stared, it got weirder.

It was the wrong skyline. There were too many stone gargoyles where there should’ve been sleek towers. Weird clusters of blinking rooftop lights he didn’t recognize. The alleys stretched wrong. 

It was like looking at a dream of Gotham. Or a memory half-rotted away and rebuilt by someone who didn’t know what they were doing. Not that Danny knew Gotham particularly well, but this wasn’t the Gotham he saw on TV.

Danny’s stomach gave a slow, queasy roll.

He didn’t want to ask the next question. He really, really didn’t.

But he needed to know.

He forced his voice casual. "This… is Gotham, right? I mean. Kinda looks like it, but I swear the skyline’s different."

Robin answered this time, sharp and fast, like he was shutting a door: "It’s Gotham."

Danny frowned deeper.

That was not a comforting confirmation.

He sucked a slow breath in through his teeth. Tried to keep his hands from visibly shaking.

One more test. One more question.

"And the year is…?"

"2025," Batman said, without even glancing back.

Danny blinked.

And it hit him low in the gut.

The same year.

Not the future. Not the past. Not time travel. So why was there a Robin? Why did Gotham look different?

His chest went tight. His heartbeat staggered, just one misstep, before slowly continuing on like nothing had happened.

No excuses left.

Not another time. He was in another world.

He was sure of it now. Knew it the way you know a punch is coming, even before it lands.

Panic snapped at the edge of his brain, wild and feral and huge.

He shoved it down.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Robin glancing at Batman again, a flicker-fast look, full of things unsaid.

Danny recognized it instantly.

That look. That stupid, awful look adults gave each other when they knew something you didn’t, and they thought you wouldn’t understand, or worse, that you shouldn’t. He hated it. Especially since Robin wasn’t an adult, he couldn’t mave been much older than Danny.

It made him feel like a bug pinned to a board. Alive, twitching, helpless.

The silence ballooned again, so dense it felt like it had weight.

And then the comm crackled to life.

A woman’s voice, clean, confident, and no-nonsense, cut through the air, loud from the speaker console in the front.

"Batman," she said, "I checked your request. There’s no Danny Fenton in any national database. No one with that name born in the last fifty years."

Danny jerked upright, heart slamming into his throat.

The voice kept talking. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t soften.

"In Amity Park, there is a family with the last name Fenton, but they only have one registered child: Jasmine Fenton. There’s no Danny or Daniel Fenton anywhere in the state of Illinois or in the United States."

Danny’s breath snagged.

No records. No name. Nothing.

He stared at the back of Robin’s head and saw the stiff line of his shoulders while Batman’s hands tightened fractionally on the wheel.

No Danny Fenton. Not even a whisper of him.

He knew he was adopted. Had always known. Maddie and Jack never hid it; it was just a fact, like his birthday or the color of his eyes. They were his parents in every way that mattered.

But here, here, in this place, they had never found him. He didn’t exist. Or if he did, he had a different name and life. Something inside his chest cracked. Danny clamped his mouth shut hard. The idea of not being a Fenton, not having his parents or his sister, it almost physically hurt.

Robin half-turned, voice carefully neutral. "You okay back there?"

Danny nodded fast a touch too fast. "Yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Just, uh…" He forced a grin, stretched tight across too many teeth. "New world, who dis, right?"

No one laughed.

The engine’s growl filled the vacuum.

Danny leaned back into the seat like gravity had doubled. He pressed his hands between his knees so hard it hurt. But it was a welcome and grounding pain. He tried to stare blankly out the window.

Different world. Parallel universe. Definitely not mine.

Cool.

Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.

The Batmobile veered sharply, slipping into an underground tunnel. The last ugly slice of wrong-skyline vanished behind them like it had never existed.

The car hissed to a stop.

Danny didn't move.

The seatbelt pressed into his chest like a hand pinning him down. The stale leather smell of the seats, the cold breath of the cave through the cracked door, all of it blurred at the edges, unreal and like a dream he couldn’t quite wake up from. Someone, Batman, probably, opened the back. A low clunk and scrape as something heavy was hauled out.

He didn’t need to look to know what it was. He could feel it, humming low and poisonous under his skin.

Still, he peeled himself out of the car on autopilot, feet hitting the stone floor with a soundless thud. The cave unspooled around him. It was endless and vast, with monitors blinking in the dark like a field of watching eyes, jagged stalactites hanging like the teeth of some ancient beast.

A giant penny loomed off to the side, because of course it did. Because none of this was real enough to make sense anymore. His throat closed up, but he forced himself to move, one dragging step at a time.

There. On the table. Set down with a heavy finality. A ray gun. Half-melted at the edges and wires trailing like veins. The core sputtering a weak, unhealthy green.

Danny's vision tunneled. His breath snagged somewhere in his chest.

He knew that tech. Knew it in his bones the way he knew how to turn invisible, how to phase through walls without thinking. It was his parents’ tech.

Okay, maybe not his parents’, but a version of them.

His mouth moved before his brain caught up.

"This is a portal destabilizer," he said, voice cracking like dry twigs. "Not... not standard. Modified. I think that it's designed to work on organic dimensional anchors, you know, on people. You’d need ecto-containment tech to stabilize the portal or else it’d—"

He broke off. His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking.

Batman turned to look at him. Slow. Silent. The weight of that stare pinned him harder than any seatbelt. Danny dragged in a breath. It tasted like stone and metal and old fear.

"...rip open a hole in space-time," he forced out, "and dump someone into another reality."

Robin moved first. Tilting his head, studying him with something like amusement and suspicious under the mask.

"Smart for a high schooler."

Danny laughed. It was short and harsh and a little too loud. 

"Ironically enough, I’m failing physics."

The joke landed with a dead thud in the air between them. No one smiled. Not really.

Danny turned his head, staring hard at the worktable instead. Staring at the weapon that had torn him out of his life like he was nothing. His voice dropped into a whisper, almost to himself.

“So... something happened. A portal opened. That thing fired. And I ended up here.”

"Correct," Batman said. Cold. Certain. No room for hope in that voice.

Danny squeezed his arms around himself before he could stop it. The cave felt so big. Big enough that he might just fall forever if he took one wrong step. The green flicker of the gun's core pulsed again, weaker now.

Batman stepped closer to the table, lifting the device slightly, rotating it carefully in gloved hands. The faint whine of strained metal filled the space between heartbeats.

Danny blinked hard. His brain was moving too fast, crashing into itself. His chest tightened. His heart scrambled sideways in his ribs.

"...It wasn’t just supposed to pull any random person through a portal," Danny said slowly, mind racing ahead of his mouth. "It was meant to grab them. Drag a version of them from somewhere else. From a different reality."

He stepped closer to the table without realizing it. His reflection, pale and shaky, wobbled in the polished edge of the metal.

"But if that's true..." His voice broke again, a brittle thing. "If that's true, then—" He swallowed. Hard. "I don't exist here," he whispered. "There's no 'me' in this world. You checked. At least, no Danny Fenton. And a different version of me wasn’t in that alley. So how—" His hands fluttered uselessly at his sides. His stomach pitched. "If I wasn’t there, then... there’s no way an alternate me could've been hit. No version of me to drag, well, to drag me here."

The words felt too big, too real once he said them out loud. Like they echoed back at him from the cave walls.

Robin stepped closer, stopping just shy of Danny’s shoulder. Danny could feel the tension rolling off him in the way his weight shifted, the he tilted his head and just stared at Danny. Even though his eyes were hidden behind his mask, Danny could tell they were calculating.

Robin looked at the gun. Then at Danny. He didn’t say a word. And somehow, somehow the silence said everything. They both knew something. Batman and Robin, Something worse than even Danny’s spinning brain could piece together.

And standing there, staring at the device that had ripped his life up and dropped him somewhere completely unfamiliar with no way back home, Danny felt something cold settle in his bones, something that told him he hadn't even started to understand what had happened.

Chapter Text

Danny felt a little bit like an insect under a magnifying glass, just standing in the center of the cave while Robin glared at him. The walls were towering and black, there was a giant computer and its screen flickering to life as Batman walked over and sat in what Danny personally thought was a cartoonishly large chair. The space was cold—almost painfully so—although not literally. Danny felt like this whole place was suffocating him. 

The idea that he was trapped in this strange world, one he didn’t belong in to the point that there was no alternate version of him, was more than a little horrifying.  It was suffocating.

Batman and Robin stood across from Danny, neither of them making any more. Batman was still, his eyes never leaving Danny, his posture stiff and cautious. Robin stood next to Batman, looking at him and occasionally glancing at Danny, tilting his head slightly when he did. Somehow, even though they weren’t speaking and were mostly watching Danny, they seemed to be having an entire conversation. 

Robin’s aura became more and more skeptical, and he was definitely giving off a more dangerous energy than Batman. Danny hated this. Being the center of attention had never been his thing.

His heart was pounding so hard that he could practically hear it. The speed was almost back to what it had been before the portal. His palms were sweating despite the chilly air in the cave. Danny had no idea what was going to happen next, but it couldn’t be good.

He was an unknown. If this had been his world, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But he’d heard it while riding the car; Danny Fenton didn’t exist. Or at least, he’d never been adopted and given that name. They had a million reasons to be suspicious of him. 

It felt a little unfair. Danny had just been reading. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been whammied into another dimension. It was someone from this dimension that had dragged him over, somehow. 

That was another thing. Danny knew that the machine he was looking at, the weird portal gun thing, it should’t have pulled him over. It would have needed an anchor, the him from this world to latch onto and drag Danny here. But it was only Batman and Robin around. 

Maybe something about Danny’s powers? The machine could have latched onto the energy, somehow. Although the more Danny tried to figure it out the more his head hurt. There was no explanation that made sense.

Batman shifted slightly. Danny’s eyes snapped back to him immediately. Why was he so freaking scary?

What’s going to happen now , he found himself wondering.

“Explain what happened.”

 Danny swallowed. His anxiety didn’t disappear. This was it. He was supposed to tell them everything. That was what they were expecting. But how much was enough ? Danny couldn’t exactly tell them about his powers. That wouldn’t end well for him, especially since he could walk through walls. He didn’t exactly feel like getting knocked out. 

But he also didn’t want to sound like he was hiding anything. If he didn’t say enough they would think he was a threat. If he said too much they would know that he was a threat. Or could be. Danny didn’t really feel like making an enemy out of Batman, even if this was a different dimension. That could only cause problems for future him.

He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. He didn’t want them to think he was a liar either.

“Okay. So… I was just reading, right? Chilling in my room, nothing special. It was late, everything was normal. I mean, as normal as any night ever is, you know?”

God, shut up. They get the point.

“Anyway, all of a sudden there was this light and portal thing-y. Suddenly I was being sucked inside. It was completely out of nowhere. I wasn’t doing anything, just reading a book in my completely normal bedroom.”

They were both staring at him now. Good job, Fenton, a snide voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam said inside his head. 

But even as he thought that, he was gesturing with his hands and unable to stop the rambling. 

“I don’t know what happened, but it was like… like suddenly I was just being pulled somewhere. I tried to grab my bed but it didn’t work. And then just like that, I was landing in an alley. With you two… staring at me,” Danny finished weakly. 

That sounded even worse out loud.

Batman didn’t react to anything Danny said, beyond a slight tilt of his head. Danny wouldn’t call himself a master, but he’d always thought he was good at reading body language. Apparently not when it came to heroes, though. 

Robin’s arms were crossed, his feet planted shoulder width apart and stance defensive. He was much easier to read than Batman, and so despite all the vibes he gave off screaming that he was suspicious and ready for a fight, Danny preferred the honesty.

“That’s it?” Robin asked flatly. “You were just reading, and then poof ?” He uncrossed his arms and did jazz hands. It made Danny want to laugh. It was completely unexpected. “You have no idea what pulled you here?”

Danny swallowed again. “Uh… yeah, I really don’t. I didn’t do anything weird. I was just sitting there, reading. It was a regular night.” Maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but if Danny was regular it would have been a regular night. “And then…” he trailed off. What did they want him to say? “I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all I’ve got. Besides, weren’t you the guys who watched the thing get activated since we’re in your dimension? Shouldn’t you guys be able to tell me why I’m here?”

Robin’s ears were practically steaming when Danny finished. Maybe antagonizing them was a bad idea, but Danny was tired and upset that his night off was interrupted. And now he was being interrogated! He wasn’t the one who fired the gun. Hell, he wasn’t from this world.

Unlike Robin, Batman didn’t seem phased by Danny’s frustrating overcoming his fear for a moment. He was studying Danny like you’d study a book, or at least that’s what it looked like. Who knew what was going on behind the mask?

“And you’ve never experienced anything like this before? No portals? No signs of something unusual? There’s no reason for it to latch onto you?”

Danny hesitated. He should probably answer honestly. It might help him get home sooner. But he also wasn’t about to give up the one advantage he had in this new dimension. He also wasn’t about to explain ghosts or portals, or the whole “Amity Park” situation to people in a new dimension. He wasn’t sure how much would make sense, or how long it would take. And time was counterintuitive to what Danny was trying to accomplish. That being, going home as soon as possible.

“No,” he said after a moment, keeping it simple. “I mean, nothing like this.” He shrugged again, trying to look as casual as possible, although he felt anything but.

Batman’s eyes narrowed, and Danny felt his stomach lurch. He was sure they didn’t buy the   whole "nothing weird" story, but he had to stick with it for now. The less he said, the better. Besides, it wasn’t really a lie. Everything weird that happened to him was usually because of his powers.

 “Alright,” Batman said after what felt like an eternity of scrutiny. “You’re staying here for now until we can send you home. We’ll figure out what happened.”

“Batman! You can’t be serious. He could be-” Robin began, only to be cut off by Batman.

“Enough, Robin. We don’t know any of the intentions for bringing him here yet. It’s better to not make assumptions.”

Robin made a face, but didn’t argue. Danny felt like he was missing something important. But honestly, whatever. This Robin didn’t exist in Danny’s world, so it wouldn’t matter whenever he got home. 

If I get home , a small voice in Danny’s head whispered, but he tried to banish the thought. He had to get home. 

Danny nodded when Batman looked at him again, trying to act like he wasn’t completely freaking out, even though he was sure the way that his hands shook at his sides betrayed him. His chest was tight, but he managed to force a smile.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me.” He paused. “I mean, I don’t exactly know what else I could do, anyway.”

Batman didn’t respond, simply turning again and signaling to Robin, who still looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. Robin didn’t say a word, just gave a quick nod and turned toward another part of the cave.

As the two of them moved away and towards a huge computer, Danny stood there for a second longer, trying to calm his nerves. He really hoped they wouldn’t find out more about him than they already had. This wasn’t the time to go into his ghost powers or explain his entire universe. He needed to get home so that he could stop worrying.

He hoped that they didn’t question him. That they didn’t pick up on just how anxious Danny was, or his powers, or think he was lying. Just long enough for him to figure out how to get back. Or for his friends to find him.

The Batcave was silent except for the occasional hum of the computer systems and the sound of Danny’s footsteps echoing on the cold, metallic floor as he walked over to where Batman and Robin stood. They were next to a a workbench littered with all kinds of odds and ends of the mechanical variety.

“Bring the device over here,” Batman ordered.

Robin was wearing a mask, so Danny couldn’t really see, but it was obvious that Robin had rolled his eyes.

“You couldn’t have thought to tell me that before we walked over here?” he asked drying. Batman shot him a look, but Robin was already starting to walk back over to where they’d come from.

He carried the half-melted ray-gun-thingy back over to the workbench and dropped it with a thud. Danny had already seen it, he kind of knew what it was, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step closer as Robin stepped away. He needed to know exactly what had caused this thing to drag him here.

With his luck, Danny almost expected it to snap at him. Okay, stay calm. Just look at the tech. It’s all tech, right? He glanced over his shoulder at the two figures watching him. Batman had taken a step back now, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze not leaving Danny. Robin, standing a bit to the side, was less patient—his body tense. Danny knew Robin wasn’t a fan of his. He didn’t exactly know why, but it felt deeper than just a stranger getting dragged through a portal. More personal, maybe. And Batman? He was an enigma. Quiet. Observing. Great. Danny swallowed and tried to remind himself to breathe.

He focused his attention on the machine. The tech in front of him felt... wrong . Some of the components had that distinctly high-tech look, but others had a rough, unfamiliar edge to them. His mind started ticking over the pieces. It clearly wasn’t working anymore, but it had dragged him here. It wasn’t designed to open portals, that much was clear.

He could feel his pulse pick up as he connected the dots. Like he’d originally thought, it was similar to things he’d seen in the ghost portal, just on a smaller scale. It wasn’t designed to open a portal permanently, at least, Danny didn’t think so. It reminded him a little bit of the Booo-merang too, like some weird combo. 

So it was clearly designed to latch onto one thing, but why had it pulled Danny through? As they’d already established, Danny didn’t exist here, or if he did, his parents hadn’t adopted him. There was no reason this should have latched onto another Danny across the dimensional barrier. Not when there was no Danny to hit. 

“Who did this hit?” Danny found himself wondering aloud, quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Batman and Robin exchange a look. What weren’t they telling him?

Danny couldn’t stop himself from taking note of more things. The faint hum of recognition buzzed in his ears as he scanned the details of this contraption. It probably didn’t make him less suspicious to them, but if it got him home sooner, then whatever. The parts were just so familiar, he couldn’t help himself.

"This is designed to connect dimensions, things and people. It’s not meant to keep a portal open, just pull through whatever it’s latched on to. But why would it bring me here?" He scratched his head, realizing he was saying more than he intended. "Could be dimensional interference somehow, or maybe..." He trailed off, aware of the sharp looks Batman and Robin were exchanging behind him.

It was reflex. He knew some of this stuff because of his parents. The Ghost Portal, the tech they’d worked on... Danny swallowed. Keep it together, Fenton. You can’t let them know too much. Don’t let them see that you know anything about—well, about anything.

Robin’s voice sliced through his thoughts, cool but tinged with suspicion. “Failing physics, huh?” He sounded like he was testing the waters. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Danny stiffened, then forced out a laugh that felt way too loud in the silence of the Batcave. “Oh, uh, no— not failing physics. I mean, yeah, I’m not the best student in the world, but…” He scratched his head awkwardly. “It’s more like... I don’t do my homework. So, you know, I get behind sometimes. I understand it.”

His stomach turned. Please don’t ask why I skipped homework. The words just spilled out. It felt like he was just digging himself into a deeper hole. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

“My parents are physicists and engineers, though, so I pick up some stuff here and there. They’re always working on weird projects, so... you know.” Danny gave another forced laugh, a nervous chuckle that felt hollow in the cavernous room. His eyes flicked nervously toward Robin, who was still watching him with laser-like precision. The sharpness in Robin’s eyes didn’t let up for a second.

Robin’s posture had shifted, his arms folding more tightly across his chest, his body language suddenly more rigid. He’s not buying it. The tension was so thick Danny could almost feel it choking the air around him. Robin’s gaze shifted to the edges of the broken machine, then back to Danny, assessing, calculating. The way his fingers brushed the edge of what was obviously a hidden weapon told Danny everything he needed to know: Robin wasn’t just suspicious anymore. He was ready .

Danny forced his gaze to the tech, trying to appear as uninterested as possible, as if he didn’t even care about it. He let out a shaky breath, and it caught in his throat. Stop thinking about the Ghost Portal. Stop thinking about the ghosts. Stop thinking about your parents and everything you’ve learned from them.

He tried to focus back on the machine. It didn’t work very well.

Batman’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the silence. “You said you didn’t know how you got here,” he said, his tone not quite a question. “But you know this kind of tech?” Batman’s eyes narrowed just a little, the glint of calculation flashing behind them. “You're sure you've never seen anything like this before?”

Danny froze. His heart skipped a beat. His palms were suddenly clammy, and his stomach dropped. The familiar buzzing in his head had returned—distant, jarring, like something was terribly out of sync. This was the part he had been dreading. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. He could feel the walls closing in, and the words were already rushing to the surface.

"Uh, no—I mean..." Danny stammered, his brain whirring to come up with something, anything that could explain this. "I’ve, uh, never seen anything exactly like this before. I mean, I—I do know a little about machines and stuff, because, you know..." He paused, his throat dry. “I just don’t work on these things. I, uh, I’m not, like, some expert. I’m, uh, just a kid.” He winced as the words came out sounding even worse than he thought. Smooth, Fenton. Real smooth. “My parents have stuff like this. I mean… not exactly like this, but you know…” he trailed off weakly.

His stomach did another flip as Batman’s piercing eyes remained locked on him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he just looked away for a second, he’d give it all away. He tried his best to keep his voice steady. “I—I don’t know what happened. I just—I don’t know how I got here, really. I’m, uh, I’m just guessing.” He forced a grin. It was shaky, it was weak, and it definitely didn’t reach his eyes. Please, just let them buy it.

Robin still hadn’t taken his eyes off him. In fact, his suspicion was practically radiating off of him in waves now, like a predator waiting for its prey to make the wrong move. Danny could feel it.

Robin didn’t speak, but the pressure of his stare was unbearable.

His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the workstation. Danny’s focus shifted, and without thinking, a question bubbled out of him.

"So, uh... random question, but... you guys, uh, you ever land on the moon in this world?" Danny asked, trying to keep his tone casual. Wow, great question, Fenton. That totally doesn’t make it sound like you’re stupid. “I know it sounds dumb, but that’s kinda my thing. Space. And I wanted to know if there were any… well, differences between our dimensions.”

“Yes. The moon landing happened here,” he replied, his voice low and detached. 

“Well, that’s good to know. I guess... in my world, it happened to. So I guess there aren’t too many differences” Danny said, trying to make it sound like a casual observation, but he could already feel the heat of self-awareness creeping up his neck.

Robin shot him a pointed look from the corner of his eye. He probably thought that Danny was an idiot. He was still crossing his arms, still tense, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Great. I’m totally digging myself a hole here.

“So, uh, space aside,” Danny stammered. “You guys follow Baseball here? How are the Cubs doing?”

“Yes. The Cubs won the World Series in 2016.”

Danny blinked. What?  

“Wait, what? No way.”

It had just been a stupid question, but Danny actually found himself shocked.

Batman’s tone was flat. "Yes."

"For real? The Cubs actually won a World Series?" he blurted. “In my world, they’re still, like, forever losing.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "They haven’t won anything in, like, over 100 years.”

Batman, as always, gave nothing away. But Danny couldn’t help the sense of awe that flickered inside of him. One major difference. Okay, maybe it was more minor. Besides the whole Danny not existing here thing, that is. It was... bizarre, but kind of comforting at the same time. Like maybe there were differences, after all.

“Just one difference,” Danny muttered to himself. "Okay, good to know. That’s... that’s good. Uh, anything else different here that I should know about? Like, anything ? I'm really trying to figure this out, y’know. I mean, besides me not existing.”

Robin finally spoke up, his voice sharp and pointed. “You’re really obsessed with the Cubs, huh?”

Danny winced. “Yeah, well, in my world, it’s a big deal. I mean, to me that is. My family has been rooting for them forever. And I don’t know, I like knowing that this is for sure a different dimension?”

Robin gave a small, almost dismissive grunt, clearly not interested in the conversation. But Batman, ever observant, glanced over at him again, his face unreadable.

Danny glanced back down at the ray gun-thingy, frustration building. He needed to know more, needed to find a way back to his own world, but right now, all he had were vague, cryptic answers. He still had a million more questions, but it was clear these two weren’t going to give him any more answers than they had to. 

It made sense. They were wary. They had to be. They were heroes. But Danny was really trying not to freak out and any random conversation helped with that. Unfortunately, it seemed like they weren’t down for random conversation today. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop with the questions,” Danny said with a sigh, trying not to seem, well, trying to seem like any normal person who’d had this happen to them.

The soft hum of the Batcomputer filled the cavernous space, the eerie glow of the monitors casting flickering light across the walls as Batman started some sort of scan on the device. Danny couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but everything in the Batcave felt... off. Maybe it was the constant hum of high-tech machinery, or the way Batman moved with such quiet precision. Whatever it was, it made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck stand up.

He glanced over at the dim screen again, watching as the diagnostic progress bar slowly inched forward, more anxious than he cared to admit. The longer he stayed in this room, the more uneasy he felt. He kept trying to distract himself with thoughts of getting home, of asking the questions that might make sense of his situation. Or at least distracted him. But it wasn’t working.

Finally, Batman straightened, his fingers still hovering over the keys, eyes scanning the data on the screen.

The Batcomputer hummed steadily, the glow of its screens casting an eerie blue light on the cavernous space. Batman continued to scan the broken device, his movements precise and methodical. Danny, however, couldn't keep still. His nerves had reached a boiling point, and though he was doing his best to hide it, he kept fidgeting with his sleeves, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the metal leg of the workbench. There was something suffocating about the silence, like everyone was waiting for something—waiting for him to mess up.

Finally, Batman broke the silence, his voice as calm and controlled as ever. “It’s too late to call in additional experts tonight. Red Robin will come by tomorrow to help. He has experience with dimensional anomalies.”

Thank God. A name that Danny recognized. Sure, Red Robin was quiet as far as heroes went in Danny’s dimension. He wasn’t like Batman or Superman or Wonder Woman, fronting the Justice League. But he was decently well know. It really seemed like—besides the Cubs winning a World Series recently—there weren’t many differences.

He hadn’t been sure if Red Robin was active here, but hearing that name felt like a small relief. It was just another piece of confirmation that, despite being in an alternate dimension, some things were still familiar. Some heroes were the same, and things were mostly familiar. 

“Oh, so Red Robin exists here?” Danny asked, half to himself, a small, relieved smile forming on his face. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how much he was hoping for things to line up, not just be different.

The words hung in the air, and suddenly, the atmosphere in the Batcave felt charged. Danny didn’t understand what had just happened, but the shift in energy was impossible to ignore. Batman’s shoulders tightened just the slightest bit, and Robin—well, this Robin—stiffened completely. His eyes locked onto Danny, an unreadable expression darkening his face.

Danny didn’t think anything of it at first. He was just glad that Red Robin wasn’t some anomaly, that this world wasn’t so different from his. 

“Oh, I mean, that’s good to know,” Danny said, trying to push back the sudden anxiety that had crept in. “I wasn’t sure if—y’know—he existed. Since there’s no Robin right now in my dimension. Glad to hear he’s around.” He forced a laugh, but it sounded awkward, even to him.

There was a pause. Batman didn’t speak for a moment, but Danny could feel his gaze on him, sharper now. It wasn’t a casual look—it was like Batman had just picked up on something Danny hadn’t meant to reveal. Robin, standing at his side, continued to watch him, arms crossed tightly, jaw set.

Danny wasn’t sure why, but his mind was starting to race. It wasn’t like Red Robin was some big mystery—right? And yet, the longer he stood there, the more he realized there was something off about this exchange. It wasn’t just the Batcave being alien to him or the device being out of place; it was something about him beyond having fallen through a portal that was making them anxious. 

Danny’s stomach churned as that realization hit. He hadn’t meant to say anything to make them more suspicious, but now he understood why they were reacting so strangely. He hadn’t said anything he’s seen as important, it was something that seemed insignificant, but now he was starting to see it: the Robin in front of him wasn’t around in his world.

In his world, this Robin— the one standing right here —had never existed. The last Robin had shifted to Red Robin. So the Robin in front of him…? He was a new addition, at least to Danny. A major change. 

Oh, crap.

Without meaning to, he’d just confirmed that the only thing different about his world and theirs was the very person he was talking to. This Robin —who was standing right in front of him, glaring at him—had never existed in his dimension. And now Danny knew what the difference was. It still didn’t explain why Danny had been dragged here, but it felt too big to be a coincidence. 

“Uh…” Danny trailed off. He wanted to explain himself, but he wasn’t sure where to start. He didn’t even really know what he needed to explain, or why him putting this together suddenly worried them so much.

Batman’s voice was cool, but there was a subtle command in it when he spoke again. “Red Robin will come by tomorrow. Until then, you’ll remain here.” There was no question in his tone. “We need time to assess your situation.”

Danny swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be stuck here overnight. He didn’t want to be trapped in this strange cave, surrounded by people who were becoming more and more suspicious of him by the minute. But there was no arguing with Batman when he spoke like that.

“Yeah, sure,” Danny muttered, giving the most nonchalant shrug he could muster. “I get it. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” The words felt hollow in his ears, although they were the truth.

Batman gave him one more long look, his expression unreadable. Robin, who hadn’t said anything for a while now, was still eyeing him with suspicion, his arms still crossed over his chest like a guard dog waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Danny’s mind was still reeling. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much about their worlds. But now he understood something that had eluded him before: this Robin had never existed in his world. And he—Danny—wasn’t supposed to know that.

Danny’s feet echoed on the cold stone floors as Robin silently ushered him down another long hallway, the walls seeming to stretch on forever. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being funneled into some kind of maze, the deeper he went, the harder it was to see a way out. Every step felt like it took him further from any semblance of normal. The shadows were thick here—darker, more oppressive than any place he’d ever been before. 

Danny didn’t even need to glance at Robin to feel the tension radiating off him. The teenager moved with an almost unnatural stillness, his back straight, every movement careful, measured, like he was prepared for a fight. But there was something else beneath the surface—a sharp edge of suspicion, one that Danny couldn’t ignore. 

It was easy to be nervous when everything about this place screamed danger. But the thing was, Danny didn’t know what they thought of him yet. He wasn’t sure what the rules were, who he could trust, or what exactly he was even doing here.

All he knew for sure was that he needed answers. And now wasn’t the time to make any blunders. Any more, that is.

They turned a corner, and Danny felt his stomach drop at the sight of a heavy, steel door at the end of the hall. It was cold, imposing, and looked as though it had been built to keep someone in, not let them out. Great, just great, Danny thought, swallowing down a rising wave of panic. The door was so solid, it felt like a trap, and he hated it. He hated the idea of being confined, of not knowing what was happening next. The closer they got to it, the more Danny felt his heartbeat quicken. It made sense, but he still hated it.

Robin slid the door open with a soft grunt, not saying anything as he stepped aside. Danny hesitated at the threshold, his feet unwilling to cross into the unknown space. A guest room, maybe? Or some kind of holding cell? Either way, it looked like a place where you’d be stuck until someone decided it was time for you to go.

Danny’s eyes flicked around the room. No windows. That was the first thing he noticed. Of course not, idiot. You’re in a cave underground.. He scanned the rest of the space. A simple bed, stiff-looking sheets pulled tight, a desk, a single chair. The walls were bare. Fluorescent lights hung overhead and the lock was on the outside of the door. Everything about it screamed "temporary cell." It wasn’t designed to make someone comfortable—it was designed to keep them in place, under control, with no escape.

His stomach twisted as he stepped inside. He could feel his anxiety rising with every inch. Danny wasn’t someone who dealt well with being confined, especially when he had no idea why he was being confined. He tried to push the feelings down, but they only got worse. The walls seemed to close in around him, and for a moment, he could almost hear his own pulse in his ears.

Calm down. You’re fine, Fenton. Just... just don’t lose it. Worst comes to worst, you can just phase out, and lose your best chance of getting home.

“Thanks?” he muttered, though he wasn’t really sure what he was thanking Robin for. He felt more like a dog being led to his cage than a guest being shown to a room. Robin didn’t respond, simply giving him a look before stepping back and closing the door behind him. The soft click of the lock echoed in Danny’s ears, and his stomach flipped. This was it. He was locked in.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and looked around the small, dimly lit room. Okay, stay calm. You’ve been in worse situations. It’s not like they’re trying to kill you. At least, not yet. They’d put him in this... “guest room,” so that meant they weren’t going to dissect him. They weren’t crazy ghost hunters. Danny was just an unknown. Of course they were being careful.

Danny dropped onto the bed, letting out a heavy sigh. The mattress was firm, almost too firm, but at least it wasn’t as uncomfortable as some of the places he’d crashed in his own world. He stretched out, but the sheet was too crisp, the bed too neat, and it didn’t feel like home. He felt like a stranger. Not just in this room, but in this entire world.

What if I’m stuck here forever?

That question rattled around in his head like an old, busted-up cassette tape. It had played itself over and over in his mind since the moment he’d realized he wasn’t just visiting Gotham for a couple of minutes, but was stuck here— in a whole other dimension . How was he supposed to get back? What if he never figured it out? What if this was his new life now?

He rubbed his hands over his face. No. You’re not stuck. You’re just... in the middle of a weird situation. You’ll find a way back. You always do.

Except this time, there was no clear out. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know how to get home, and more importantly, he didn’t know who he could trust. He had no idea if Batman was going to just let him go, or if they would keep him here indefinitely in the case that there was no way home. What if they started questioning him? What if they realized he wasn’t normal?

What if they think I’m a weapon? What if they find out about my powers and think I’m a villain and have Superman throw me in a pocket dimension?

The thought sent a fresh wave of dread through him. If he showed them his abilities, they might think he was some kind of dangerous freak. They might think he was a threat, and not just some confused, displaced teenager. And then where would he be?

He stared down at his hands, still curled into fists on the bed. Just... don’t make any more mistakes. Keep it cool, Fenton. You can do this.

But as he sat there, trying to calm his racing thoughts, his body kept betraying him. Every time he tried to settle into the uncomfortable stillness, a new wave of panic surged through him. He could almost hear the hum of his ghostly powers just beneath the surface, begging to break free, but he refused. He wouldn’t use them here—not yet. Not unless he absolutely had to. It was too dangerous. If they found out what he really was, they might... God, what would they do?

You’re in Gotham, Danny. You’re not in Amity Park anymore. These people are not like the ghosts you face. You have to stay calm.

Despite the pounding in his head, despite the growing pressure in his chest, Danny forced himself to breathe slowly. He focused on the rhythm of his breath, on the feeling of the mattress beneath him, the cold stone of the walls pressing in around him. It was grounding, even if it didn’t make the fear go away.

Okay, stay calm. You’ve been through worse. You’ve got this.

His thoughts kept spiraling. What if he couldn’t get back? What if these people didn’t want to help him? What if this dimension’s Batman was a villain?

He rolled onto his side, staring at the door that was now shut tight. I could turn invisible. Slip out. I could escape.

The temptation was so strong that it almost hurt. The idea of disappearing, of just vanishing and escaping, was so incredibly tempting. He could go anywhere. He could get far away from this place. He wouldn’t have to explain himself. He wouldn’t have to stay here and wait for Batman to decide what to do with him.

But Danny forced himself to stay still. No. If you leave now, they’ll know something’s off. You have to stick it out.

He clenched his fists in the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel the tears welling up again—tears he didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not in this place. He wasn’t supposed to be scared. He was supposed to be brave, to figure out a way out of here, not to cower in fear. But he wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being helpless, to being trapped in a place where nothing made sense.

The tears stayed in his eyes, but Danny bit his lip hard, willing himself not to cry. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not when he didn’t know what was going to happen next.

Just stay calm. Keep it together. It’s not forever. 

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

The kitchen was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the steady patter of rain against the windows. Ordinary sounds, the kind that should have been grounding. But for Damian Wayne, they felt distant, like noise muffled through glass. His thoughts refused to still. They circled and circled, tearing at the edges of his composure until the silence pressed against his ribs like a weight.

Bruce sat at the table, posture precise, hands folded. He hadn’t spoken in minutes, but Damian could feel the constant, grinding machinery of his father’s mind. Every detail was being catalogued, every inconsistency filed away. The boy—Danny Fenton—wasn’t just being watched. He was being measured.

Damian’s arms tightened over his chest as he leaned against the sink. The steel edge bit into his palms, but he didn’t move. He had already run through the possibilities in his mind a dozen times, but none of them settled.

Clone. Shapeshifter. Alternate dimension. Each answer was as unsatisfying as the last.

“Say it,” Bruce said finally, voice low, steady.

Damian’s head snapped toward him. “He’s a clone. Mother’s handiwork. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Bruce didn’t so much as blink. “It’s one possibility.”

“It’s the correct one.” Damian’s jaw clenched. “She’s done it before. Spliced flesh, stolen my blood, then grown soldiers in tanks. Why not this? Why not another one?” He pushed away from the sink, pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. “He looks like me. He moves like me. Even his slip about Red Robin, it was too convenient. He’s a plant. He has to be.”

Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. “And yet his behavior doesn’t fit the mold. He’s nervous. Untrained. He improvises poorly. That’s not how Talia would have trained him.”

Damian scowled, but he heard the truth in it. “Then what? Do you believe what he claims? Do you really think he’s from another dimension?” His lip curled. “Absurd.”

“Absurd,” Bruce agreed, “but not impossible.”

The silence stretched, filled only by the rain. Damian turned sharply, fists tightening at his sides. “And if he is? If he’s truly from another world, what does that mean for me?” The words spilled harsher than he meant, edged with something dangerously close to fear.

Bruce didn’t answer at once. His eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest sign of thought cutting deeper. “It would mean he’s an alternate you. Raised differently. But that’s all.”

Damian froze, then spat, “Unacceptable.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t change. “Whether it’s acceptable or not, we’ll know soon. The DNA test will confirm for us by morning.” He leaned back in his chair, the overhead light catching on the lines of his face. “If he’s a clone, we’ll be able to tell, thanks to your genetic modifications. If he’s not…”

“Then I’m staring at a different version of myself,” Damian finished bitterly. He didn’t know what he was more scared of. Realizing he hated what he could have had, or realizing he wished for the life this boy had.

His father offered no comfort.

After a long pause, Bruce added, almost as an afterthought: “The device that brought him here, it isn’t League technology. We know that. It’s too… improvised. Whoever made it knew what they were doing, but it also looks like they built it out of scavenged parts.”

Damian’s frown deepened. “Then it’s dangerous.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp as a blade. “Dangerous,” he confirmed. “And whoever created it wasn’t concerned with safety.”

Damian exhaled slowly, crossing his arms tightly. “Then we have bigger problems than this boy.”

He waited a beat, but Bruce said nothing else. 

“Waiting isn’t enough.” Damian’s voice was quiet, but there was steel under it. “We’re sitting here while that boy, whatever he is, is down there. He knows about Red Robin, and he recognizes the technology that brought him here. He’s hiding something.”

Bruce’s gaze shifted to him, steady as stone. “And we’ll find out what that something is. But not by leaping to conclusions.”

“You sound like you believe him,” Damian said, his tone sharper than he intended.

Bruce didn’t flinch. “I believe evidence. Right now, all we have are possibilities. His presence, his resemblance, his knowledge, it points in multiple directions. Clone, alternate dimension, even magic. But until the data confirms one, I won’t waste time on assumptions, and you shouldn’t either.”

Damian’s jaw locked. His father’s calm made his skin itch. How could he sit there, so measured, when everything about this boy screamed danger? Worse, when everything about him screamed he was the exact opposite of Damian.

“I don’t like it,” Damian muttered, pacing again. “It’s not a coincidence. It can’t be.” His hand twitched toward the hilt of a phantom sword. “He doesn’t even seem surprised. He looked at me as if—” He cut himself off.

“As if?” Bruce prompted, voice level.

Damian turned sharply. “As if he expected me to exist. As if he already knew.”

Bruce’s silence was telling. His eyes narrowed, the faintest crease in his brow. “Or perhaps he recognized what you represent. He already mentioned that his world, assuming he’s telling the truth, has no Robin anymore, just Red Robin. Seeing you here may have just been a shock, or confirmed that he’s in another dimension, or it was all an act. We can’t know without-.”

“-evidence. I know, father,” Damian groaned.

Damian hated that explanation, mostly because it rang with truth. 

“And if you’re wrong?” Damian asked, softer now, the question slipping out before he could stop it. “If he isn’t just some anomaly from another world? If he was made to replace me?”

Bruce didn’t answer immediately. He leaned forward, folding his hands, eyes dark with thought. “No one replaces you, Damian. You’re my son. And no one—clone or otherwise—undoes who you are.”

The words steadied Damian more than he wanted to admit. But they didn’t silence the gnawing thought at the back of his mind. What if he’s better?

For years, Damian had clawed to prove himself in Gotham, to rise above the shadow of Talia and the League. He had trained, fought, bled, and still carried the weight of expectations he could never fully escape. He had never been allowed to be ordinary. Never been given a chance to just be a boy.

But this Danny… Danny had the look of someone who had. His nervousness was unpolished, his humor careless. He didn’t carry the weight Damian bore every hour of every day. It was almost like he had been raised differently. Freer. Softer.

If he were a clone, he was good at acting.

Bruce’s voice cut through his spiraling. “You’re letting fear cloud your judgment.”

“It isn’t fear.” Damian’s reply was sharp, defensive. But even he heard the tremor under it.

“Then prove it isn’t,” Bruce said calmly. “Keep watch. Question him. But keep your head clear. If he’s dangerous, we’ll know soon enough.”

Damian hated that answer almost as much as he hated the boy himself. But he bit back a retort, turning instead toward the window. The rain streaked down in silver lines, painting the garden outside in ripples of distortion. He focused on it, letting the rhythm hold his temper in check.

Footsteps entered the room, light but certain. Alfred moved with his usual quiet grace, placing a fresh mug of tea by Bruce’s elbow. His gaze flicked to Damian, eyes kind but unwavering.

“Not all guests arrive with ill intent, Master Damian,” Alfred said gently.

Damian’s lips pressed into a line. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need Alfred’s platitudes, not now. Yet the words settled in his chest, unwanted but impossible to ignore.

Bruce thanked Alfred with a nod. The butler retreated, leaving them in the storm-swept silence once more.

Damian let the quiet stretch, his fists curling tight at his sides. If Danny were a clone, then he would be a threat to be eliminated. If he were an alternate self, then he was a living reminder of everything Damian had been denied. Both options cut too deeply.

He shut his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. If he’s a threat, I’ll deal with it. I’ll prove myself again, as I always have.

But the darker thought refused to die, slithering through his resolve. And if he isn’t a threat? If he’s the only proof that I could have lived a life without bloodshed, do I even want to know?

Damian opened his eyes, staring out at the rain-slick streets of Gotham. The city was dark, cold, and full of shadows. Just like him.

Bruce’s voice, quiet but firm, broke the silence one last time. “The test will tell us what he is. We can work from there tomorrow. For now, let’s turn in. You’ll think more clearly after sleeping on it.”

Damian didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He only clenched his fists tighter, willing the storm inside him to match the one raging outside.

Because no matter what the test revealed, one truth already haunted him: The greatest danger Danny posed wasn’t to Gotham.

It was to Damian himself.

After his mini panic attack was out of his system, Danny was ready to explore. 

The room was cold in that particular way that only underground places seemed to manage. No windows. No clock. Just the dim overhead lights and the steady, low hum bleeding through the walls, like the Batcave itself was alive. 

Danny’s hand lingered on the door handle before he tried it. Locked, obviously. The mechanism clicked faintly, the kind of sound that told him it was electronic, not manual. It wouldn’t have stopped him if he really wanted out. All it would take was half a second of phasing.

But he didn’t. Not when they were almost certainly watching. His fingers tightened around the knob before he let go, backing away. Walking out now would only make things worse. Danny wasn’t about to reveal all of his cards. Especially not when he was trapped in an alternate universe with one of the most mysterious heroes out there. 

Sure, Batman was a good guy, but he’d already established that things were a little different in this universe. For example, Danny not existing. He wasn’t about to risk the chance that he’d been dragged into an alternate universe where Batman was evil or something else ridiculous.

“Okay,” he muttered, forcing levity into his voice, “strike one for the door.”

He turned, taking stock of the rest of his cell. It wasn’t exactly a prison, not in the strictest sense, now that he was paying closer attention to it. More like… house arrest, Bat-style. A cot tucked in the corner, sharp-angled and military neat. A table with bottled water and a couple of energy bars. And, Danny squinted, trail mix?

If Batman already suspected him, the last thing Danny needed was to prove he could slip through walls whenever he wanted. He’d kept Phantom hidden from strangers before; he could keep him hidden here, too. For now, he picked up the package of nuts and dried fruits. He was shaking it like it might explode.

“Huh.” He tore it open and sat down on the cot, shoving a handful into his mouth. “So, Batman jail has trail mix. Bat-mix? Honestly, I’ve had worse field trips, in retrospect.”

The humor didn’t erase the knot in his stomach, but it helped. A little.

Beside the snacks sat a small black device, no bigger than a deck of cards. Sleek casing, a single blinking light. Danny turned it over in his hands, half expecting it to beep at him for touching it. Some kind of phone or comm, he guessed. Way too polished to be anything resembling normal, though. It was the kind of thing that probably came with three layers of encryption and a self-destruct function if you pressed the wrong button.

For a second, he seriously considered it, despite the danger. Just pushing the button and then saying something dumb to prove that he wasn’t afraid. But he put it back down with a sigh. As much as he wanted to joke, antagonizing Batman wasn’t on his to-do list. Once again, he didn’t know if this Batman was actually good or evil, not for certain.

Leaning back on the cot, Danny let his head thump against the wall and stared at the ceiling. It was the kind of space designed to make you think. No distractions. No noise but that low, steady hum.

At first, he ignored it. Then he couldn’t.

It was familiar. Too familiar.

Danny sat up, heartbeat stuttering. The vibration through the walls, the pitch of the machinery, reminded him of late nights in the Fenton Lab, listening to his parents’ inventions cycle power. The sound of something running a little too fast, wires straining under pressure, a build-up right before it blew. It was much too familiar. 

He dug his fingers into his hair and laughed under his breath, the sound dry. “Yeah, no. Not going there.”

Except his brain wouldn’t stop. He wasn’t in Amity Park anymore. He wasn’t in his parents’ basement, watching with growing dread as the Ghost Portal began to glow before shocking half the life out of Danny. He was in Gotham. In Batman’s cave. And yet, somehow, he was still being reminded of the worst parts of home.

His eyes drifted back to the table. To the water, the snacks, and the communication device. They weren’t starving him. They weren’t hurting him. This wasn’t a cell in the sense he’d expected. And now that he was calm enough to take stock of the situation, it made sense. He was an unknown. Assuming this Batman and Robin didn’t turn out to be major douchebags, then Danny would probably be okay after they confirmed the portal gun thing was, in fact, a portal gun to another universe.

Still…

“Why me?” The words slipped out. “If I don’t even exist here, how did the machine know to grab me? It doesn’t make sense.”

He dragged a hand down his face. There had to be a reason. Something more than random luck. Out of everyone in the world, out of everyone in every world, why him? And why did it have to look exactly like something his parents would make (minus the tacky Fenton branding)? It felt too coincidental.

His thoughts circled back, inevitably, to Robin.

The mask had hidden most of his face, sure. But Danny knew what he’d seen. The way Robin stood, the shape of his jaw, the exact color of his eyes under the shadows. Not identical, but close enough that Danny’s stomach had dropped the moment their gazes locked.

Danny also didn’t know why Robin had seemed so freaking familiar.

If their worlds were parallel, if the only major difference was that Gotham had a Robin and Amity Park had him… then maybe that was the connection. Perhaps that was why the machine had yanked him out of his life and shoved him here.

Because both of them were unique to their worlds. The machine couldn’t pull Robin through because Robin didn’t exist in Danny’s world. And Danny didn’t exist here. It still didn’t fully explain why that weapon hitting Robin would drag Danny into this dimension, but he couldn’t figure out anything better.

Batman liked evidence, right? That was his whole thing. Danny could wait for that. He wished he could help to speed it along and get out of the claustrophobic room, but it could certainly have been way worse.

He reached for the communicator again, spinning it once between his hands. Just one press. He could say something dumb. The idea was still tempting. Or he could ask the question burning at the back of his throat: Why am I so important that you need to keep me under surveillance? Why can’t you bring in a freaking mind reader?

He set it down carefully before he could do either.

Instead, he lay back again, listening to the hum in the walls again. It was almost comforting if he pretended it wasn’t familiar. Almost. If he focused on the memories of his parents' voices in the lab instead of his unfortunate accident.

“This is just like house arrest,” Danny muttered. “Except with un-haunted trail mix.” He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing steady. He’d figure this out. Somehow.

He’d figure out why he was here. He’d figure out how to get back. It would all work out. And hey, Danny had been a huge fan of the third Robin when he was a kid. Even though this Robin was new, he was finally getting to live out his childhood dream of meeting Robin.

That still didn’t remove all of the unease that Danny felt. Because saying it out loud, that he and Robin might be two sides of the same coin, felt like crossing a line he wasn’t ready for. Even if he didn’t really know what exactly that line was, not really. 

Danny woke to the hum.

It was the kind of noise that crawled under your skin, steady and low, like the whole cave had a pulse. For a moment, he thought he was back in the Fenton Lab, sprawled across a workbench after staying up too late to finish homework while his parents tinkered in the background. But when he cracked open his eyes, there was no cluttered chaos of wires and glowing green tanks. Just stone walls, dim lights, and the promise of Batman somewhere above.

“Right. Still in Bat-jail.” His voice rasped in the quiet, groggy and dry. He coughed once and rolled onto his back. “Five stars. Excellent ambience.”

He rubbed at his eyes, blinking the blur away, and sat up slowly. His spine popped. The cot wasn’t the worst bed he’d ever crashed on—field trips had taught him worse—but it wasn’t the kind of thing you woke up refreshed on either. He reached for the half-finished water bottle on the little table and took a long swig. It was lukewarm, metallic-tasting, but it did the job.

“Breakfast of champions,” Danny muttered, twisting the cap back on. “This sucks. I want to go home.”

For a few seconds, he just sat there, elbows on his knees, staring at the black device with the blinking light. It hadn’t moved, obviously, but it still felt like it was watching him. The hum behind the walls didn’t help, either. His brain itched to pick apart the rhythm, to catalog the way it almost-but-not-quite matched the Ghost Portal’s buzz. He forced himself to stop before he started spiraling again.

The door hissed.

Danny’s head jerked up. He hadn’t even heard footsteps, just the electronic click and smooth slide of the panel opening. The soundproofing was better than he’d assumed. That, or Danny had just been too caught up in the electric buzz inside the walls. He scrambled upright, brushing crumbs of trail mix dust off his shirt, his heart giving one hard thump before he shoved the nerves down.

Two figures entered.

The first was calm, collected, all neat lines in red and black. A tablet or something like it rested in his hands, the glow reflecting against the lenses of his cowl. He moved with a kind of quiet confidence Danny recognized instantly. Red Robin.

Danny’s mouth went dry, but not from nerves this time. Holy crap, Red Robin.

Behind him came the other one, the new Robin. Shorter, shoulders tight, every step radiating tension. Danny could practically feel the glare through the mask.

So, the tag team. Good cop, bad cop. Classic.

He wasn’t even that mad. Red Robin was here. Talking to him!

Danny straightened instinctively, trying to look less like a kid who had woken up on a cot in yesterday’s clothes. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and forced a grin. “Morning, officers. Breakfast was a little light, but the accommodations? Chef’s kiss.” He mimed a pinch-to-mouth flourish. “Do I get a survey card, or is this strictly verbal feedback?”

Robin’s scowl deepened. Red Robin didn’t react, except maybe the faintest twitch of an eyebrow, before he tapped something on his tablet.

The silence stretched, and Danny swallowed, heart still too loud in his chest. He tried again, lighter: “I’m guessing this isn’t a room-service call.”

There was no response from either of them. Danny felt very underdressed in his pajamas in comparison to both of them wearing full superhero uniforms, armor and all. 

“I’m Red Robin.”

Danny’s brain fizzled for a beat. He knew this, but it was so cool, seeing his favorite superhero standing before him, even if this was an alternate universe version of him. Danny meant to introduce himself and sound cool. Something like: I’m Danny, or It’s nice to meet you, or even I’ve been waiting for both of you. 

Instead, what he said was: “You’re Red Robin. The Red Robin.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks. He coughed into his fist, scrambling to backpedal. “Sorry, I just—uh, you were my favorite when I was a kid.” 

God, why wasn’t his brain-to-mouth filter working? Was it possible to sound more lame and kid-like? The younger Robin stiffened instantly, arms folding tight across his chest. Even with the mask, Danny could feel the weight of his glare sharpen.

Danny winced. “Not that the others weren’t cool. I just…” He trailed off, cheeks burning hotter. “Never mind.”

Red Robin didn’t react to the outburst beyond maybe the faintest flick of an eyebrow. His tablet glowed faintly as he tapped something into it. “We’re going to be interviewing you.”

“Didn’t I answer questions when I first came here?” 

“Consider it a formality, then,” Red Robin said. “We just want to double-check everything. Let’s start simple. What happened before you arrived here?”

Danny sat back down on the cot (for lack of a better location), shoulders rising in a half-shrug. “Nothing dramatic. I was in my room. Reading. It was late.” He gestured vaguely, trying to seem casual. “Next thing I knew, everything went… sideways. There was light, a pull, and then—bam. I landed here.” He gave a weak grin. “Not exactly the kind of night I had in mind.”

Red Robin made a note on the tablet. His voice stayed level. “Describe what you saw. Was there anything weird near you before you were pulled through?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really. One second I was fine, the next I wasn’t.” He shrugged again, more helplessly this time. “I was just… in my room.”

The younger Robin’s eyes narrowed. Danny tried not to squirm under the look.

Red Robin’s tone didn’t change. “Who do you think built the machine?”

Danny hesitated, fingers twisting in his hoodie pocket. “I have no idea. Like I said, I’m clearly not from this universe, so I don’t know who would be building something like it. And I only saw it for a second.”

“Still, any guesses?”

“I mean, my parents build things that look like it, sometimes. But like I said, this is a different universe.” Danny paused, considering how he should answer. He didn’t want to sound suspicious or make them think he was malicious. “And my parents can’t keep their branding off of anything they make.”

“What are your parents’ names?” the younger Robin cut in sharply.

“Didn’t I already mention them last night?”

“All you said was that they were physicists and engineers. What field do they work in, and what are their names?” Robin asked again. He sounded impatient.

Danny’s chest tightened. He glanced at him, then quickly away. “I don’t think that’s important.”

It felt wrong to give his parents' names. They had nothing to do with him in this universe, on account of his not existing. Not to mention, it wouldn’t exactly make Danny look completely innocent, having parents who dabbled in interdimensional tech in Danny’s universe. Granted, Danny was probably only making himself look more suspicious. God, why was Danny so bad at this? 

Red Robin spoke again before Robin said anything, which was good. Robin looked ready to strangle Danny. “Knowing their name and background would be really helpful in confirming your story.”

Danny hesitated. His mouth went dry, and his brain did that wonderful thing where every possible answer lined up and tripped over each other.

“Uh—” His voice cracked. Fantastic start. “I mean… okay. Their names are Jack and Maddie Fenton.” He rubbed his palms against his knees, wishing the cot would just swallow him. “They’re physicists. Engineers. Tinkerers. Depends on who you ask.”

Red Robin’s stylus moved smoothly and methodically. Robin just stared at him like he was waiting for Danny to say gotcha, just kidding.

Danny’s mouth was already moving. “They, uh… they specialize in ghost hunting.”

The silence was immediate. Red Robin’s stylus stopped moving. Danny forced a weak laugh, trying to cut through it. “Yeah, I know how that sounds. Like, ‘Sure, kid, next you’ll tell us Bigfoot’s your gym teacher.’ Believe me, I’ve had to sit through enough parent-teacher conferences to know it’s not the world’s most respectable career choice.”

He pushed on anyway, because digging holes seemed to be his new specialty. “It’s mostly tech they make: scanners, sensors, weapons—uh, not that they work half the time. Lotta sparks, lotta smoke. But, you know, science in theory. And I picked up on a lot of it, on account of living with them.”

His chest felt tight. He could hear himself rambling, but stopping felt worse. “They slap ‘Fenton’ on everything like it’s Apple or Wayne Industries or something. Fenton Finder, Fenton Thermos, Fenton Bazooka. Fenton Ghost Portal. Branding, right? Because nothing beats neon-orange paint and your last name in Comic Sans.”

Another silence. Danny swallowed hard.

Internally, he was screaming. Great. Nailed it. Tell Gotham’s broodiest heroes that your parents are ghostbusters. Genius move, Danny. Ten out of ten, you’re definitely not coming off like a lunatic.

Still, there was a thin thread of calculation woven through the panic. He wasn’t lying. He hadn’t said anything about ghosts being real. He hadn’t mentioned his powers, or the accident, or Phantom. All they had was his word that his parents built bizarre tech. That wasn’t dangerous knowledge here—at least, he hoped not. Hopefully, it wouldn’t cause problems for this universe’s version of his parents.

He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to meet Red Robin’s gaze. “It’s weird. I get that.” His voice wavered once before he forced it steady. “That’s who they are.”

Red Robin scribbled something else on his tablet. Robin’s glare didn’t budge.

Danny slumped back against the cot, running a hand through his hair. Yeah. Totally convincing. Definitely not sounding like the kind of kid you need to lock up in a cave and interrogate twice in one night.

“So why did you know so much about the portal gun?” Robin demanded.

Danny twisted his fingers together until the knuckles popped. “Look, it’s not like I’m some… multiverse expert or anything. I just—” His voice snagged on itself, and he had to swallow before forcing it steady. “I grew up around people who were kind of obsessed with the idea. My parents… they’ve always wanted to build a portal to another dimension. To, uh…” His lips twitched in a grimace. “To the dimension they think ghosts come from.”

He braced for laughter, or disbelief, or for Robin to jump down his throat.

Robin actually paused, like he was shocked, but Red Robin only lowered his stylus long enough to type something fast across the screen. The sharp tap of keys echoed in the silence. Then he looked up, lenses reflecting the dim light as his gaze pinned Danny in place.

“In this world,” Red Robin said, voice calm but cutting, “the Fentons don’t hunt ghosts. They don’t build weapons. They don’t brand devices out of a basement.” He tilted the tablet slightly, as though double-checking. “They’re professors and published authors. Specialists in low-temperature plasma physics and energy systems. They teach at a small college in Amity Park, Illinois.”

Danny blinked. For a second, he thought he’d misheard.

“Wait—what?” The word came out sharper than he meant. His brain stuttered, trying to reconcile the image of his parents covered in ectoplasm, brandishing bazookas, with the idea of them standing in tweed jackets giving lectures. Professors? 

It sounded fake. Almost like Red Robin had just described an alternate set of people who just happened to have the same names and faces as his parents. 

Danny’s stomach flipped. Different world, different rules. Of course they’d be different. Of course they wouldn’t be… my parents.

His laugh came out dry, frayed at the edges. “Yeah, sure. Professors. That sounds about right.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, muttering, “God, this just keeps getting weirder.”

“You’re hiding details,” Robin said, voice like a knife edge. “Are they the ones who made the device? You seemed too familiar with it last night.”

Danny’s pulse jumped as much as his body was capable of it. His hands flew up a little, like that could block the accusation. “What? No! I—look, my parents build similar stuff, okay? A lot of stuff. And half of it explodes before it even turns on. Just because I recognized the basics of the design and understand the theory doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it. Do I look like a guy involved in some evil science ring?” His laugh came out too thin, shaky at the edges.

Robin didn’t budge. He stepped closer, every line of his body coiled tight. “Who are you really? Clone? Spy? Or something worse?”

Danny’s chest seized. He shook his head. “I’m not a clone!” His voice cracked sharply in the air, and heat burned his face. “Why would I be a clone? I don’t even exist in this universe! You know that!”

He felt his whole body vibrating, his fists curling tight against his thighs. “Like I already told you a million times, I was reading in my room,” he said, forcing the words through his teeth. “Just reading. And then that portal opened and threw me here after shooting you, Robin. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

Robin’s stare was unrelenting, but Danny couldn’t stop himself now. His breath came too fast, his chest tight, the words spilling out jagged. “I already told you—I don’t belong here.”

The hum of the cave filled the silence that followed. It was loud enough that Danny almost missed the older one’s voice.

“How do you know?” Red Robin asked. Calm. Too calm. “Why are you certain? And how do we know you aren’t lying?”

Danny scrubbed a hand down his face, his laugh coming out raw. “Because in my world…” His throat worked, and he looked down at the floor as the words tumbled out. “There’s no Robin after Red Robin.”

The silence that followed felt different this time. Thicker.

Robin didn’t flinch, but he went very, very still. His fists curled once, then loosened. A tightening in his shoulders, subtle, but enough to set off alarm bells in Danny’s head. It wasn’t anger—not the kind that exploded. It was sharper, buried deeper.

Danny’s gaze flicked between them, desperate for a read. Red Robin’s brows had lifted slightly. He turned to look at Robin, but Robin didn’t acknowledge him. Ah, so Robin hadn’t shared that bit of information with Red Robin. Danny wondered why. 

Even so, Red Robin didn’t seem to be completely shocked. Maybe a little surprised, but not shocked. The older one’s eyes narrowed behind the white lenses, flicking between Danny and the younger Robin in quick, measuring glances. Back and forth. Back and forth. Danny followed the look, forcing himself to study Robin properly for the first time.

Up close, the details slammed into him. The build. The posture. The way he held himself with sharp edges, shoulders tight like every second was a battle. The jawline under the mask, familiar in a way that made Danny’s chest ache. Even the voice was the same, minus the accent and inflection. If Danny wore a costume, it would be like looking in a mirror.

Probably sixteen. The same as him. Robin was the same height, and he had almost the same face (at least based on what Danny was able to see).

Danny’s mind whirled back to every word Robin had thrown at him since he got here. Clone. Spy. Something worse. The words had landed like accusations, but now they rattled around in his head differently. Why clone? Why that word, over and over? It wasn’t just suspicion. It was personal.

Because to them, the idea that Danny was engineered, made in a lab, fit better than the truth. Because looking at him was like looking in a mirror someone had tilted sideways for Robin. And it made sense, in a sick way. Of course Batman and Robin would have to worry about clones and other things like that. 

Therefore, they thought he was fake. He looked too much like him. Like Robin. Except that Danny thought that he was notably less ill-tempered than this Robin. 

“You’re…” Danny’s throat closed up. He swallowed hard, words dragging out of him, quieter this time, shaking. “You’re me.”

The words barely left his mouth before Robin stiffened, bristling like Danny had just drawn a blade. “No.” His voice snapped like a whip. “You are nothing like me.”

Danny flinched at the venom. Robin’s hands curled into fists, and for a second, Danny thought he was going to strike something, the wall, Red Robin, maybe even Danny himself. His voice rose, harsh and cutting. “Do not compare yourself to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Danny’s stomach flipped. He hadn’t meant to rip open whatever this was. But now it was out there, hanging between them like a blade suspended by a thread.

Robin moved as if to step forward, but the older one reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The gesture was steady, and it stopped Robin cold.

“Take a breather,” Red Robin said quietly.

For a heartbeat, Danny thought the younger one would refuse, that he’d keep pressing, keep pushing until Danny broke apart. But instead, with one last glare, sharp enough to carve Danny open, Robin spun on his heel and stalked toward the door. The hiss of it sliding shut left the room colder.

Danny sat frozen on the cot, breath shaky in his chest. The room felt bigger without Robin in it, but heavier, too. His mind wouldn’t stop circling back, wouldn’t stop replaying the moment his eyes had locked on the details and known the truth.

In another world, one where his parents hadn’t scooped him up, one where he hadn’t grown up on late-night lab experiments and neon-painted inventions, he would’ve ended up like that.

A Robin.

The thought twisted in his chest. He tried to picture it, him in the green and red, scowling under a mask, fists clenched like the world had already betrayed him before breakfast. No ghost powers. No Portal. 

It was surreal. Horrifying. And a little ridiculous.

Danny let out a weak laugh, the sound breaking halfway. Figures. My options were mad scientist parents and ghost powers or being a bird-themed ninja. Great career paths, really hitting the jackpot across universes.

The thought didn’t make him feel better. If anything, they made the weight settle heavily. Because it wasn’t funny. Not really. Looking at Robin was like staring at a version of himself stripped of every messy, embarrassing, lovable thing about his life, the Fenton stickers on everything, his mom’s lab goggles on the kitchen counter, his dad’s terrible ghost puns shouted at full volume.

Without that, apparently, he just… turned into this.

He would have ended up angry, sharp, and clearly carrying shadows on his shoulders. Danny didn’t want to think about it too hard. But that was pretty much impossible.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to steady himself, but all he could see was Robin’s face, his face, staring back at him with hate. Somehow, Danny felt like his chance of getting home quickly and easily was fading faster with each minute he spent inside this stupid universe or dimension or whatever it would be called.