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Chapter Text

𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙽𝚈 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚈

𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽

𝙹𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙾𝙳𝙳

𝚃𝙸𝙼 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙺𝙴

𝙳𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴

Chapter Text

DANNY GRAY laid collapsed across the cold body of his mother, a once-beautiful woman named Angela.

Angela Gray was a “fallen woman”, a socialite exiled from society. Her father, a successful businessman and public figure, had made the mistake of taking her to her first gala at twenty-one years old, where she drank a bit too much champagne and went home with Bruce Wayne, who was looking for a single night where he didn’t need to be concerned with his ten-year-old ward, Dick Grayson, who had been in a rough pre-teen patch and was making the twenty-two-year-old man feel like he was going prematurely gray.

The two had spent the night together and never talked again, and three months later she noticed the swelling in her stomach. She went to a small, supposedly discrete clinic to get tested, knowing already what the diagnosis would be. She found out about her pregnancy and went home, where she confided in her mother and father, who were upset and sent her to her room so they could think about what they were going to do about their daughter and her bastard

The family woke up to hundreds of notifications from their lawyers, PR teams, friends, family, and various news sources vying for answers and confirmations of Angela’s pregnancy. 

There had been a slip at the clinic, the girl at the front desk had seen the sonograms and had remembered the only woman who had come through the clinic that day and had slipped the information to the press and to social media for the hefty promised paycheck. 

The Grays had become outcasts in the few hours since the stories had come out, the paparazzi at their doors, and their photos on the front pages. 

Stocks had dropped for their company, their previously positive reputation soured by the daughter carrying a bastard child.

The Grays publicly denounced their daughter, tossing her out on the streets with enough money to house and feed herself for the rest of her pregnancy and for a few months post-birth to find a job.

She had found a cheap, run-down apartment in crime alley, where the people had better things to be concerned with than some socialite and her drama. She lived out her pregnancy in the dingy apartment, becoming close with the slightly dodgy neighbors.

She gave birth to a sweet little boy with black hair, fair skin, and blue-green eyes. She named him Daniel.

He rarely cried, and was a bubbly, giggly baby with a lot of curiosity and love for the world that he was beginning to see.

Everyone who met the happy baby was utterly besotted, and she had offers from the next-door neighbors to watch him and care for him while she looked for work.

So, she left her baby, Daniel, with the Todds, and went out to look for work. 

Many days and nights went by of her searching for work at bodegas, corner stores, gas stations, fast food restaurants, anywhere she could think of, only to be faced with rejection upon rejection.

After three weeks of job searching, money was running low and food was running scarce, and Angela was getting desperate. One of the girls down the street on the corner noticed her out every night and brought her to a club, where she auditioned and began to dance.

At first, it was just dancing, and then the offers for large amounts of money came in from men who wanted to spend a few hours with her. 

The money she was getting from dancing was enough to pay the rent and some of the utilities if she was selective, but it just wasn’t enough to feed her and her baby. 

Daniel was on formula, her malnutrition from using as much money as possible to keep them housed and as safe as possible made her milk supply meager, and formula was expensive. 

She started going with men, and she was making enough money to survive and care for her baby.

By the time Daniel was four years old, the life was catching up to her, and she took one of the street girls up on their offer of a high to try to cope with the self-hatred she was beginning to feel. 

She became addicted to the high, to the substances, and developed a severe dependency, more and more money spent on drugs, and more and more time spent high and going with men to make up the money to feed her boy and keep up with bills. 

By the time Daniel was six, she was a shell of her former self, and he was being left with the neighbors more and more. Catherine herself was high a lot, and her son, Jason, who was a few years older than Daniel, took over in watching the boy, keeping him safe and stealing at night to make sure that the family was fed and that Daniel wasn’t suffering for his mother’s illness.

Then, when Daniel was seven, Catherine Todd overdosed. Willis Todd was in and out of jail, and Jason was stealing more often to stay alive. He couldn’t keep taking care of Daniel and steal enough to keep himself fed.

Angela seemed to be getting herself together enough to start taking care of her son again, so Jason focused on his own survival and was turned out on the streets after he couldn’t afford rent. 

He stole the tires off the batmobile one night and was taken in by Bruce Wayne. He was distracted with his new life and didn’t think to mention the boy he had taken care of, thinking that Daniel’s mother had gotten better and could take care of him herself.

A year later, Angela had relapsed again, and had gone too far this time. 

Daniel, or as his old friend Jason (what had happened to him, again?) had called him, Danny, laid next to his momma. She must’ve been really sick this time, she hadn’t moved in a lot of days and she wasn’t eating the canned pasta he had brought her or drinking the water he left with her while he went out and pulled weeds and swept up glass and cleaned up the red stuff on the floors for the man who knocked on his home’s door for money once every few weeks (a week is seven days! He learned that before momma got sick and he could go to the school a bus stop away.) 

Danny thinks that the man might be one of momma’s special friends . 

He snuggled up next to her. She was so cold, and she was already covered up in all of their blankets. She smelled kind of bad, she probably needed a bath but Danny wasn’t big enough to help her to the tub.

He wrinkled his nose and tucked in closer. He fell asleep pressed into her cold, unmoving side and woke up the next morning to loud knocks on the door. He scrambled up to see who it was, shifting uncomfortably at the wet spot on his clothes from where he cuddled his momma.

He stood on his tiptoes and peered into the peephole, and unlocked and opened the door when he saw the man and their downstairs neighbor, Ms. Sugar, who worked with his momma.

“Hello Mister! Hi Ms. Sugar! Are ya here to see momma? She’s a little sick right now but she might wake up to talk to ya!”

Both adults looked a bit sick at the smell, and Ms. Sugar went pale at the sight of his momma on the floor covered in blankets. They stepped in and Ms. Sugar wrapped him up in her arms while Mister went and shook momma, and then touched her neck. He looked up at Ms. Sugar with a look on his face like he sucked on one of those sour candies that Jason got him that one time, and shook his head.

Ms. Sugar covered her mouth and gently walked Danny out to the hallway in front of his home while Mister pulled out his cell phone and dialed a short number.

“Danny, baby, some policemen are gonna be here soon. Sugar is gonna be with ya the whole time, but you’ve gotta tell them how your momma died.”

Danny looked up at Ms. Sugar with big blue-green eyes, his wild dark hair a tangled mess around his head, and his eyes started to well up with tears while he clung to her hip.

“Ms. Sugar, momma’s not dead, she’s just sick.”

Ms. Sugar looked a bit sick, not like how momma is sick, but like she was gonna cry and throw up all at once.

“Danny, your momma isn’t sick anymore. She’s gone.”

His little face screwed up in rage,fat tears rolling down his cheeks, upset that she wasn’t listening to what he was saying. “Momma’s not gone! She’s right there!”

Ms. Sugar held him just a bit tighter, squeezing him when loud sirens sounded outside. 

Two policemen came up the stairs to his home. One gently led him and Ms. Sugar downstairs to the cars, and the other went into the apartment to talk to Mister.

“Hey kiddo. We’re gonna take you and your friend to the station to ask you some questions about your mom.”

Danny wasn’t really listening to the man. He was looking at the black and white car with sirens and the white and red truck with bright lights and the man and woman getting a bed out of the back and going into the building.

Ms. Sugar tugged him gently along to the police car and climbed into the back with him when the policeman opened the door for them.

The other policeman came out a few minutes later after the people from the truck came out with the bed with a black bag on top of it came back out and put the bed back in the truck.

They drove to a building far away with a bunch more policemen inside where they brought him in and wrapped him in a blanket and Ms. Sugar hugged him into her side and ran her fingers through his greasy, messy hair and got her fingers stuck a few times. 

A man in a tan jacket came out and brought them into a warm office, talking to Ms. Sugar all quiet-like, using his whisper voice.

“Hi Kiddo. My name is James Gordon, I’m the police commissioner here. Do you know what that word means?”

Danny shook his head against Ms. Sugar’s arm.

“It means I’m all those police officer’s boss. Can you help me figure out what happened to your mom?”

For the first time, Danny looked directly at the man. He had brown hair with some gray lines, a mustache, and rectangle glasses. He looked tired.

“Nothin happened to my momma. She’s just a little sick, Mr. Gordon.”

Mr. Gordon gave Ms. Sugar a funny look, he looked all sad and tired.

He drew in a breath. “Daniel, kiddo, do you know what death is?”

“Yes, Mr. Gordon. It’s when you ain’t livin no more so you gotta go in the ground and everyone gets all sad for a while.”

“Kiddo, your mom is dead, not sick. She’s not alive anymore.”

Danny’s little face scrunched with rage, turning splotchy with all the anger in his body. “NONE OF YA ARE LISTENING TO ME! MOMMA’S NOT DEAD, SHE’S SICK!” By the time he was done yelling, his face was soaked with tears.

Mr. Gordon heaved a sigh. “Daniel, can you tell me what kind of sick your mom is?”

The little boy sniffled, “I dunno. She got all itchy and mad a few breakfasts ago so she took her shots. Momma gets like that sometimes. Then at dinner time she got all tired and started puking a bunch and fell asleep. She started snoring. I brought her some food and water but she wouldn’t eat, and she was cold so I got her some blankets.”

“You’re a good son, kiddo. You did a good job taking care of your mom.”

“Thanks, Mr. Gordon. When can I go see momma?”

“Daniel, your momma was sick for a while. She just got too sick and she had to leave.”

“Where’d she go? Can I go see her?”

“I’m sorry, kid. She was too sick and she’s gone now, she’s not coming back.”

Danny felt like he was going to cry again, and his eyes hurt a lot. 

Momma wasn’t coming back. I want my momma.

His head felt like when he stuck it in the tub and pretended to be a fish.

He puked all over the blanket, his clothes, and a little bit on Ms. Sugar.

Ms. Sugar looked a little sick too, and she started talking to Mr. Gordon. Danny couldn’t hear them.

All he could see was black.

Chapter Text

DANNY woke up in a white room with a bunch of beeping screens. He was hungry and felt all floaty while he looked around the room, eyes landing on the slumped form of Ms. Sugar laying against the bed with dark bags around her eyes, her usual pretty makeup smudged and streaked across her face. 

“Ms. Sugar?” 

The woman jolted awake at the quiet prompting of her stage name, making eye contact with the newly awakened boy in the bed before tears welled up in her eyes.

She shakily hit the call button by his bed.

“Oh, Danny” tears were rolling down her face again, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

He still felt all floaty when she gently cradled him in her arms, pressing kisses to messy black hair.

Then came the knock at the door. A nurse walked in, followed by Mr. Officer Gordon and a tall man with black hair and light blue eyes.

The nurse went quickly, checking the boy's vitals quickly before stepping out to give Officer Gordon, Ms. Sugar, and the stranger time to talk.

Officer Gordon walked up next to the bed, speaking quietly to Ms. Sugar in words that Danny didn't really understand.

The boy gently reached over and tapped on Ms. Sugar, and the quiet conversation stopped.

“Ms. Sugar?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m hungry.” His little face was screwed up like he was gonna cry again, the floaty feeling disappearing quickly at the hunger pains making their way through the haze.

 A loud growl rumbled from his stomach as he looked up at her with a wobbling lip.

“I’ll ask the nice nurse if she can bring you something to eat, baby. What do you want?”

“Do they have pasketti-ohs?”

The stranger spoke for the first time since entering the room, thick eyebrows pressed together in confusion. “What…are pasketti-ohs?”

The boy turned his attention to the man, brows furrowing in the exact same way as the stranger’s had. “Pasketti-ohs are me and momma’s favorite food! They're shaped like O’s and have red sauce and sometimes meatballs if momma can buy those ones!”

Ms. Sugar smiled at the boy, a frail, wobbly thing, before standing up and wiping at her face with a tissue from the counter in the room. “I’ll go see if they have Spaghetti-O’s, can you please talk to these nice men for me? They’ve got some important things to tell you, Danny.”

Danny sniffled while Officer Gordan used the buttons to raise the back of the bed into a seated position. “Okay, Ms. Sugar. I’ll be good.”

Ms. Sugar stepped out of the room, leaving him with the two men.

“Hi, Daniel. Do you remember me?”

“Hi, Mr. Officer Gordon. Hi, Mr. stranger-guy.”

Jim Gordon suppressed a grin at the title, he wished that the situation wasn't so unfortunate, the kid was a polite little guy. 

“I have someone I'd like for you to meet, kiddo.This is-”

The stranger cut him off, “Bruce Wayne,” he paused for a moment, unsure, “I’m your father.”

Danny stared blankly at him while Jim sighed into his hands, already sensing that the delivery of that bit of news was going to be a problem. 

The boy’s face cycled rapidly through emotions, from confusion, to sadness, and then to anger-his face getting all pinched and red.

“You're a liar, Mr. Bruce!” even in his upset state he didn't forget his grown-up manners, “Momma said that my daddy's gone. Stop lyin’ to me!”

Mr. Bruce just stared for a moment. “I’m not lying to you, Daniel. I’m your father.”

“YOU’RE A LIAR!” the little boy was yelling now, “YOU’RE A LYIN’ LIAR WHO LIES, MR. BRUCE!” Tears spilled down his bright red face

Bruce’s composure was cracking at the upset voice and face of the boy, his son who he didn't even know he had, and at the tears pooling in reddened blue-green eyes. 

Eyes that remind him of his other little boy from Park Row. Fuck, he should definitely call Dickie and Jay before they found out by him bringing the boy into the manor, or, god-forbid, from Alfred instead of himself ahead of time.

If the way Dick had reacted to Bruce bringing home Jason was any metric to go by, then he should definitely forewarn both of his boys. His other boys.

Jim cleared his throat at Bruce's prolonged silence. 

“I’m not lying to you, Daniel. I promise-”

“If you're my dad, why did you leave me and momma? Momma said that my daddy was gone and didn't want us. Why didn't you want us, Mr. Bruce?”

His little-est boy’s repetitive insistence that his daddy was gone and didn't want him grated on Bruce’s heart. 

He couldn't help but loathe the dead woman who hid his son from him and fed him lies about his dad not wanting him. If he had known that he had a little boy out there, the boy would have been safe, warm, and fed in the manor--in his home.

“I didn't know about you, Daniel. If I knew about you, I would have been there. Your mother never told me about you.”

The boy seemed to slump, teary eyes staring at Bruce, piercing into his heart and hooking their way in.

 Bruce slowly leaned down, gathering his little boy into his arms to hold him. 

The first time he gets to hold his baby, his 8-year-old son, hands rubbing at his back--an action well-practiced from his older sons. 

Danny was stiff in his hold, but slowly relaxing from the pressure of the hold and the soothing rubbing on his back. 

Bruce was suddenly very reminded of how desperately his boy needed a shower. The nurses had changed him out of his clothes that reeked of decomposition and were stained from bodily fluids into a hospital gown, but the boy clearly hadn't bathed in a while, and Bruce could feel his ribs and spine a bit too easily for his own comfort, remembering that his little boy had spent over a week cuddled up to and taking care of his own mother's decomposing corpse, and likely hadn't eaten much in that time period while trying to feed her so she could “get better”. 

He suddenly felt very sick. 

A soft knock came from the door, snapping him from his thoughts. 

Ms. Sugar walked in with a tray of chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes. “I’m sorry, baby. They didn't have Spaghetti-O’s.”

“It's okay, Ms. Sugar. I like chicken nuggets too.”

Robin “Bonnie” Smith (or as her clients and Danny knew her, “Sugar”) was one of Daniel and Angela’s neighbors, and worked with and was friends with Angela.

When asked why Danny called her “Ms. Sugar” instead of Ms. Bonnie or Ms. Smith, she had gained a tired glint in her eyes. Before they had officially met, he had seen her with a client who called her Sugar (her very convenient stage-name that definitely wasn't her way of deceiving herself into an illusion of intimacy and pet-names during her work—no sir, that's definitely not how the name Sugar came to be) and it had stuck in his young mind like glue.

Her tired eyes caught sight of Bruce holding Danny, and she stiffened--a well-entrenched fear and protective instinct from seeing the strange man (one who had enough money to buy Gotham City, enough money to cover any crimes he were to commit) holding on to the boy that she saw as her own nephew, her family. 

She forcibly relaxed herself, before bringing the food to the bed, tugging the table closer, a not-so-subtle hint for Bruce to let go and move.

He reluctantly released his little boy from his grasp and moved so Bonnie could bring the swinging table-tray over the bed. 

Danny tugged the tray of food close to him, and began to eat, fast enough that he started to choke. 

Bruce’s instincts kicked in as he started to gently rub his back while his body was racked with coughs to clear his airway. He pulled the tray of food further from Danny, grabbing the fork and cutting the nuggets in half, and spearing one to bring to Danny’s mouth. 

The boy grabbed the fork, insisting that he could feed himself, and Bruce reluctantly let go, but watched carefully to make sure that he ate at a slower pace and didn't choke again.

A nurse knocked on the door and then called Bruce and Jim over, speaking in hushed tones before Bruce walked back to the bed and brushed a hand through tangled, greasy hair. 

“I’m going to go fill out some papers, Daniel. You're going to come home with me and live with me and your big brothers and our butler, Alfred.”

Danny nodded slowly, eyes still slightly watery, a subtle expression of fear of his usually very expressive face, “Okay, Mr. Bruce.”

He looked at Bonnie, who had apparently had a conversation with him about him living in a new place, or about being far away from her and the other neighbors who had helped raise him, and nodded.

“Thank you, Ms. Robin, for taking care of him for me. You can always come visit him if you'd like.”

She nodded, the movement jerky and he watched a new round of tears being beaten back while she kissed Danny’s temple before Bruce walked out of the room, phone in-hand to talk to his boys at home.