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Danny hit the ground running, air whipping past his face. His nose and ears felt frozen solid but he was more concerned with the screaming coming from behind him. The distance between him and the ghosts behind him was slowly increasing, but not fast enough for him to bank on outrunning them.
“Okay, new rule,” he gasped, skidding around a corner. “No more portals without—”
A shriek tore through the alley, sharp enough to rattle the windows. Something slammed into the brick wall beside him, leaving a bloom of frost spider-webbing outward. Danny swore and pushed harder, boots skidding on black ice that absolutely had not been there five seconds ago.
Gotham was not built for this.
The alley spat him out onto a wider street, neon signs buzzing overhead. Danny skidded, nearly wiped out, and barely managed to right himself before a translucent hand punched through the pavement where his foot had just been.
“Nope!” he yelped, twisting intangible mid-stride. His foot phased through the asphalt, his balance suddenly tilted, and he stumbled forward, barely catching himself on a parking meter.
Behind him, three ghosts burst out of the alley like they’d been fired from a cannon—jagged, half-formed things, all teeth and static, their cores flickering an ugly sick-green.
Definitely not my usual rogues, Danny thought wildly. Did Gotham import these or did I?
Something slammed into his back like a freight train and Danny pitched forward, hit the pavement hard, and rolled just as a clawed, translucent hand punched through the concrete where his head had been. Frost raced outward in jagged lines.
These ghosts were wrong—feral, unstable, their cores flickering like bad reception…oh. These must be the interdimensional hitchhikers the Observants were trying to tell him about. Great.
Danny went intangible and dove through a chain-link fence, reforming on the other side with a sharp exhale. Ahead, more buildings and fire escapes. Behind him, the screaming sharpened. He vaulted for the bottom of one of those pull down ladders for the lowest part of the old fire escapes when suddenly the temperature dropped and the air grabbed him.
Not hands. Pressure. A crushing, inward pull that locked onto his core and yanked.
“No—no, no—!” Danny snarled, flaring bright as he tried to wrench free.
One of the ghosts surged forward and shoved. The world inverted, flipping in his vision and swirling around him at dizzying speeds. Danny felt himself tear loose from his physical form, ectoplasm stretching thin as glass—then everything snapped into place with a violent lurch.
He slammed into something, mind reeling. As his sight started settling back into something more normal, he took in the sensation of heat all around him. Muscle. A heartbeat that wasn’t his. Danny choked on air that wasn’t moving the way he expected and staggered, boots scraping across stone. His vision doubled, then sharpened.
Rooftop. Night air. City below.
And as he spun around, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Get out of my head.”
Danny froze. That voice came from him. Well, not him, but the body he overshadowed. Shoot. “I didn’t—” Danny tried, but the words came out wrong. Sharper. Younger. British maybe? He looked down.
Black boots. Utility belt. Gloved hands—smaller than he expected, but steady. A sword strapped across his back. A stylized ‘R’ sat on his chest. Specifically—oh crap—
“What did you do to me?” Robin demanded, fury blazing hot and immediate. Danny could feel it, coiled tight in the back of his mind like a drawn blade.
“I swear I didn’t mean to!” Danny said quickly, panic spiking as he realized something worse. He tried to pull back—to slip out, to go intangible but reeled back when it felt like he hit something solid. He slammed against an internal wall, rebounding hard enough to make stars burst across his vision.
He was stuck.
The ghost that had shoved him screamed triumphantly as it surged upward—straight toward the rooftop. Robin’s body was moving in a flash, as if moving in pure instinct, blade flying free in a smooth arc before Danny could blink and he barely had time to grab the reins, shouting out, “Wait, don’t!” But it was too late.
Robin launched forward, faster than Danny expected, strength and training bleeding through even as Danny fumbled for control. The sword passed through the ghost’s arm, disrupting it just enough for Danny to shove a burst of ecto-energy through the younger boy’s hands.
The ghost shrieked and reeled back while Robin snarled. “You fight like a child.”
“Hey!” Danny shot back. “You try sharing a body under duress!”
Another shadow dropped onto the rooftop. Then another. Nightwing landed first, escrima sticks already up with Red Hood following close behind, guns trained in front of him.
Danny frowned as he thought about what picture they painted. He ducked as a second ghost launched herself at them. Both Nightwing and Red Hood stood stock still for half a second, staring at their fellow vigilante Robin—rigid, eyes glowing faint green—hovering over the roof...the ghosts looming around him.
Nightwing’s voice was sharp as he asked, “Robin?”
Danny felt Robin shove at him internally in response, trying to retake full control. It felt like being punched from the inside. "I’m handling it,” Robin snapped aloud—then flinched as Danny’s panic leaked through, making the words hitch.
Hood swore. “Why is he glowing?”
Batman flew out of the shadows, the darkness clinging to his frame, even as he ran at them. His gaze locked on Robin and growled out, “Possession.”
Danny’s stomach dropped as the ghosts lunged again and he reacted without thinking, shoving Robin to the back of their shared mind. He filtered out the constant stream of cursing from the young hero and focused on dodging while throwing back blasts of his own. Corralling them together, he surged forward, overtaking Robin’s jerky movements just long enough to twist, go intangible, and let the ghosts lunge forward, passing through them—then snapped solid and detonated a pulse of cold straight through their cores.
The ghosts shattered into drifting ecto, but without his own body, he didn’t have his thermos, so he settled for opening a portal to the Realms. He shoved what he could through and then closed the rift resolutely.
Silence slammed down like a physical weight and Robin shoved forward to the front, wrestling control back and demanded, “What was that?”
Every eye turned to Robin. And Danny, he supposed, but semantics. Danny swallowed hard, now trapped directly behind Robin's eyes, still unable to pull free. “Okay,” Danny said weakly, voice echoing strangely in Robin's throat. “This looks bad, but I promise—this was not the plan.”
Robin was shaking with contained fury. 'When I get you out of my body—'
“If you can tell me how,” Danny cut in desperately, “I am all ears. I swear.”
Batman advanced one step, towering above him. As he felt a shiver run down his spine, he felt a smug look shot at him inside his mind from Robin, ‘You should be scared.’
“You will release him,” the larger man demanded, voice tight but firm.
Danny tried again—pulled, phased, strained but nothing. He hit that internal wall once more and bounced. “I can’t,” Danny admitted, terror finally bleeding through. “I’m stuck.”
He could see Nightwing’s jaw tighten while Hood swore again, lower this time. But Batman didn’t look away from Robin for a second. “What do you mean ‘stuck’?” Batman asked.
Inside Robin’s mind, Danny curled in on himself, heart racing. The young hero’s thoughts ran wild and fast around him, whispers of half formed thoughts and plans. One in particular caught his attention.
…Batman was Robin’s father? Of all the people in all the cities in all the universes—he had possessed Batman’s kid. And said kid was still screaming somewhere behind his own consciousness.
Batman didn’t move. That alone made Danny more nervous than the guns, the sticks, or the swords. “I mean this,” Danny forced out as he tried to pull back again, just to demonstrate—and slammed into the same invisible barrier, hard enough that Robin staggered half a step.
Everyone tensed around him.
Danny froze. “Sorry—sorry—see? That. That’s the problem.”
Inside Robin's mind, the space felt…compressed. Not rejecting him—but like it was locking him in place. Like a door slammed shut behind him.
“I think,” Danny said slowly, dread creeping in, “the ghost that shoved me did something. Anchored me. Or tangled our cores. Or—ugh—I don’t know. Ghost physics get weird across dimensions.”
“Ghost physics? Dimensions?” Nightwing glanced at Batman. “Do we get Constantine?”
“No,” Batman said instantly.
Danny jerked back with a frown. He couldn’t be sure that it was the same man, but he’d met a man named Constantine exactly once and still had nightmares. That man gave him weeks of paperwork as King of the Realms.
Robin yanked for control, hands curled into fists. “You will be removed.”
“I want that too!” Danny said. “Very much! Ten out of ten, would love to not be in your brain right now.”
Batman raised a hand, halting Robin’s next retort. “Carefully,” Batman instructed, quieter now. “Robin, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Robin said immediately—and Danny felt the word snap out like a blade strike. Rage, humiliation, control. So much control. “He is inside my head.”
Danny winced. “Hi. Sorry. Again.” Robin surged, trying to force him back, and Danny reflexively braced—only to realize that resisting felt like digging his heels into the other man’s spine. He recoiled instantly. “Whoa—okay—nope. Sorry! Not doing that. I’m not here to hurt you, I swear.”
“You already are,” Robin hissed.
Batman’s eyes flicked, just briefly, to the faint green glow Danny knew would be haloing Robin’s pupils. “What’s your name?” Batman asked.
Danny hesitated. On one hand...secret identities and consequences involving the entirety of the Realms. But also…Batman voice.
“…Danny,” he said finally. “Danny Phantom. I’m—uh—kind of a ghost.”
Hood barked a laugh. “Of course you are.”
Nightwing shot him a look, then softened his stance just a hair. “Danny. Are you in control right now?”
Danny considered the question honestly. “Like…forty percent?” he said. “Fifty on a good second. He’s very—uh—mentally stabby.”
‘I can hear you,’ Robin snapped.
“Yeah, sorry, that’s on me,” Danny said, then hurried on, “Look, I didn’t choose him. I got shoved. Literally. By another ghost. I don’t usually—do this.”
Batman’s jaw tightened. “You possess people.”
Danny felt cold shame coil in his chest. “Only when I’m forced. Or dying. Or—okay, twice I panicked. But I always leave. I’ve never gotten stuck before.”
“Danny,” Batman said evenly, “if you lose control, what happens?”
Danny swallowed. “I…don’t think I will,” he said carefully. “But if I do? He’d still be conscious. I can’t override someone completely unless I push—and I won’t. I promise.”
Batman studied him for a long, terrible moment. Then he turned to the other vigilantes and commanded, “Stand down.”
Hood tilted his head, mechanical voice sounding questioning, “B?”
“Nightwing,” Batman continued, “scan for residual energy. Red Hood, perimeter.”
Robin stiffened. “Batman—” His mind echoed, ‘Father—’
“This is not negotiable,” Batman cut off firmly with a hand.
When Robin retreated in what Danny could only see as a pout, he registered something else. “…Oh,” he murmured.
“What?” Nightwing asked.
“He’s injured,” Danny said quietly. “Like—physically. I didn't notice because of the adrenaline spike. Cortisol. We’re bleeding.”
Robin scoffed but didn’t come to the front of their shared control. ‘It is nothing.’
Danny gently—not moving the body, just feeling—traced the sensation. “It’s internal. Left side. You got hit before I showed up.”
Batman’s eyes sharpened. “Robin?”
There was silence, but when Danny prodded him in their mind, he just smacked him away. ‘…Tt,’ Robin clicked irritably. ‘The impact was within acceptable parameters.’
Danny winced. “Dude. Your acceptable parameters are wild.”
Batman stepped closer, voice low. “Robin. Report.”
Danny startled. “Oh, sorry. He said whatever hit him stayed within ‘acceptable parameters’, whatever that means. But I can give him a temporary patch.” Before Robin could protest, Danny focused, placing a hand over their side—eased the pressure, cooled the inflammation, dampened the sharpest edges of pain without numbing awareness.
Robin sucked in a breath despite himself, pulling himself to the front in surprise, “…What did you do?”
‘Temporary patch,’ Danny repeated. ‘Nothing’s healed. I just…took some of the edge off.’
Batman grabbed their arm, holding them steady, “Robin?”
The older man was shoved off with a scoff as Robin took a step away. “I’m fine. Danny just…patched up my insides. Caught me off guard.”
Hood stared at them before gesturing dramatically. “We are not seriously trusting the ghost possessing Robin, are we?”
“Hey!” Danny bristled. “Rude. I saved him.”
“You hijacked him.”
“Against my will!” Danny protested as he shoved a finger in the other man’s face.
“Enough,” Batman said.
The comms crackled in Nightwing’s ear. “Residual energy detected. Similar to Robin’s—overlaid with unknown signature.”
“That’s me,” Danny grimaced. “I’m the unknown signature. But if you think about it, I’m kinda known becau—nevermind. Continue.”
Batman exhaled slowly. “Then until we can separate you,” he said, “you stay with us.”
Danny’s heart sank. “Like—Batman custody?”
“Yes.”
Inside Robin’s mind, the rage simmered—but underneath it, Danny felt something else. Reluctant trust. Robin muttered, barely audible, ‘Do not embarrass me.’
Danny huffed weakly. “No promises, but I’ll try.”
Batman gave him a look and then turned toward the edge of the roof. “We need to move,” he said. “Agent A is waiting for us.”
Danny swallowed, tightened his mental grip just enough to keep them steady, and stepped forward in someone else’s boots. Stuck. Possessing Robin. Running with the Batfamily into a city that already hated ghosts.
“…Wow,” Danny muttered. “This is so not my night.”
And somehow, impossibly, Danny had the sinking feeling that jumping into a random Gotham alley might have only been the second worst mistake he’d made that night.
‘You’re not the one kicked into the backseat of his own mind,’ Robin snapped back.
Danny pulled back, letting the younger man shove his way to the front, all sharp corners and sharper tongue. As they swung through the air, he passively watched the scenery. No, this was definitely not his night.
Wind tore past them as the grapple line snapped taut and yanked them skyward. Danny flinched on instinct even though he wasn’t the one holding the line as Gotham blurred beneath them—brick, glass, neon, shadows stacked on shadows—and Robin moved through it like he’d been born in midair. Precise. Efficient. Angry.
‘You will not interfere,’ Robin snapped internally as he released and fired the next line without hesitation.
‘Wasn’t planning on it,’ Danny muttered back, folding himself back as far as he could in the man’s mind. He made himself small, passive, like a bad houseguest trying not to knock over anything expensive. ‘You’re the acrobat. I’ll just…vibe.’
Robin made a sharp, irritated noise that Danny felt more than heard in response.
They landed hard on the next rooftop, Robin rolling smoothly to his feet, even as Danny felt their side pull uncomfortably. Nightwing touched down a heartbeat later, light and easy by comparison, while Red Hood thudded in with less grace and more attitude.
Nightwing’s gaze flicked over Robin immediately. “You good?”
“Yes,” Robin said, clipped. Too clipped. Danny felt the lie scrape on the inside of his skull.
Nightwing clearly did too. His eyes narrowed, watchful. Then he double tapped the com unit in his ear.
Robin bristled and snapped, “Focus on the mission.” Then in their shared mind space, ‘Stupid Grayson. He notices everything.’
Batman landed behind them, scanning each of them before focusing on Robin. “Report.”
Robin opened his mouth and he felt the hesitation. The lie on the tip of his tongue. The stubbornness. Danny wasn’t about to sit back and let this come back to bite him back later. “He’s compensating,” Danny blurted.
Everyone froze and took a step forward as Robin tried yanking him to the back of his mind. ‘Don’t you da—’
“Left side,” Danny continued quickly, before he lost his hold on Robin’s voice. “He’s favoring it when he lands. It’s subtle, but it’s there. If he keeps swinging like this, it’s gonna tear something instead of just bruis—”
Robin stamped his foot down, crossing his arms across his chest and snarled, “I’m fine.”
Hood let out a low whistle. “Wow. You really are in there.”
Robin’s face burned hot with fury. “You will stop speaking—”
Batman stepped closer again, eyes never leaving Robin’s stance. His weight distribution. The tension Danny could feel humming through muscle and bone. “You’re injured,” Batman said. “If you push yourself past a certain point—”
Robin straightened defiantly. “I said I’m fine.”
‘But you aren’t,’ Danny said under his breath. ‘I am though.’ Robin’s mental glare could’ve melted steel.
Batman’s jaw tightened. “Nightwing.”
“Yeah,” Nightwing said immediately, already moving. “I’ll take point for a bit.”
Robin's fingers curled into fists. ‘I do not need—’
‘You do,’ Danny said, gentler this time. ‘And that’s not a failure thing. That’s a ‘you got tackled by a ghost’ thing.’
There was a long, simmering pause in Robin’s thoughts. Then, begrudgingly, '…Tt.'
Danny took that as a win.
They moved again, this time at a slightly slower pace. Danny stayed quiet, letting Robin handle the body, but he couldn’t help the constant awareness—the way Gotham felt. Wrong, somehow. Thin. Like the veil between worlds had been scraped raw.
The Batcave was cold in a way Danny hadn’t felt before. Not ghost-cold—no creeping frost, no ectoplasmic bite—but a deep, ancient chill that lived in stone and shadows. The kind of cold that came from being underground for a very long time, wrapped around secrets that didn’t want to be warm.
The Batmobile screeched to a halt, engines cutting off sharply. Lights flared, then dimmed, revealing stalactites, computer banks, platforms, and more equipment than Danny thought should legally exist in one place.
Robin vaulted out of the car immediately and Danny felt it—the spike of tension, the way his muscles coiled like he was bracing for an attack that never came. ‘Stand down,’ Danny murmured reflexively.
Robin scoffed internally but didn’t argue. He stalked toward the medical bay with stiff strides, cape snapping behind him.
A man was already there, waiting. Agent A, apparently. He looked exactly like Danny expected and not at all what he’d braced himself for: calm, elderly, impeccably dressed even here, hands folded neatly behind his back and a domino placed carefully over his face. His eyes flicked to theirs—then sharpened, just slightly, on the faint green glow that hadn’t fully faded from Robin’s gaze.
“…Master Robin,” Agent A said mildly. “You’re injured.”
Robin bristled. “There was a complication.”
“Yes,” Agent A replied smoothly, already moving closer. “I can see that.”
Danny had dealt with a lot of authority figures in his life. Government agents. Scientists. Interdimensional monarchs. His parents. None of them had ever made him feel as immediately seen as the old man reaching for a med-scanner.
“Oh,” Danny muttered before he could stop himself. “I like him.”
Robin flushed and shoved him back. “Do not comment—”
Agent A paused mid-scan. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted one eyebrow. “…Fascinating,” he said.
Batman stepped up beside them. “Status.”
Agent A swept the scanner over Robin’s torso, humming thoughtfully. “Blunt force trauma to the left side. Internal bruising. Minor muscle tearing. Elevated stress hormones.” He tilted his head. “And an additional…overlay.”
Danny winced and wiggled past Robin to peer through his eyes more closely. “Yeah. That’d be me.”
Agent A didn’t even flinch. Instead, he smiled. “So you’re the young man currently sharing residence in Master Robin’s head.”
Danny blinked. “…Yes?”
“A pleasure,” the man said, like this happened every other Tuesday. “I’m Agent A.”
“…Danny,” he replied weakly. “Sorry about the whole—possessing your kid thing.”
Robin spluttered. ‘He is not—!’
“I am aware,” Agent A said smoothly. “Please sit, Master Robin. Before you fall over and embarrass yourself.”
Freezing, Robin stood for a long moment before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘treacherous old man’ before he sat. Danny felt the relief immediately—the strain on Robin’s side easing just a fraction. Agent A’s hands were gentle but firm as he applied a cool compress and began prepping something that smelled faintly antiseptic.
Nightwing leaned against a nearby console, arms crossed, watching with open curiosity. “So,” he said lightly, “does this make you, like…roommates?”
Danny snorted and shook his head. “Nah, more like a hostile Airbnb situation.”
Robin snarled internally. ‘I will evict you.’
“Please do,” Danny said, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead. “I miss having my own skull.”
Agent A glanced between them. “You’re communicating internally?” he asked.
“Unfortunately,” Robin said aloud, glaring.
“Yes, and he thinks in knives,” Danny added. “It’s very stressful.”
Red Hood laughed outright. Batman, meanwhile, was watching Agent A work with the intensity of a hawk. “Can you separate them?”
“Not immediately,” the man considered.
Danny’s stomach sank.
Agent A continued calmly, “Whatever anchored Danny to Master Robin was done deliberately. It seems that where we have overlay, I believe this is where they are intertwined. It’s not something physical that we can touch or fix.”
“Those overlays are our cores!” Danny perked up. “Er—well, it’s at least my core. Since Robin isn’t dead, I’m not completely sure what I’m anchored to.” Then to himself he wondered if he should try reaching out to Frostbite.
‘Who is Frostbite?’ Robin questioned, hesitant.
“Well, I have filed reports on far stranger,” Agent A replied serenely. “Now—Danny, was it?”
“Oh, um, he’s a yeti,” Danny answered distractedly before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. “Yes, sir?” When he didn’t respond right away, Danny flushed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that first part out loud.”
‘A yeti?’ Robin asked skeptically. ‘You do realize that yetis don’t exist, right?’
Nightwing leaned forward, brows raised and mouth open, but Danny sighed exasperatedly before he could say anything. “Yes, okay? Just because they don’t exist in this realm doesn’t mean they don’t elsewhere,” he pouted. “You believed ghosts exist pretty easily. Why is this any different?”
“Uh,” Red Hood looked at Agent A before turning back to Danny. “What?”
‘Ghosts and yetis are completely different things,’ Robin snapped.
“No they’re not!” Danny protested.
Robin shoved him and he went sprawling from the unexpected move. “They totally are. There’s a difference between fiction and reality.”
‘Robin, I promise you, they exist. So do dragons, hydras, werewolves, gorgons, genies, cyclopses, centaurs, you name it!’ Danny said, and if he had a body, he’d be gesturing wildly with his hands. He really hoped Robin received that impression with the words. ‘Yetis aren't the weirdest creatures around, okay?’
“You can’t be serious,” Robin deadpanned, although he could feel the other man’s intrigue.
‘I am,’ Danny promised. ‘I really do think it could be good to reach out to Frostbite though. He knows a lot more about this kind of thing than I do. I’ve only been dead for a couple of years, so it’d be good to get an outside opinion from someone who’s centuries older than us. Plus, he’s my doctor.’
Robin’s mouth opened and closed a few times before asking, “Your doctor?”
‘Yes.’
“You’re trying to tell me that Frostbite is—okay, no!” Robin protested. “You sound absolutely insane. No.”
Danny wilted a little at that. ‘Rude. Also inaccurate.’
Agent A, to his credit, looked more intrigued than alarmed. “This ‘Frostbite’…who is he?” he asked carefully, as if testing the words for balance.
“He’s my doctor,” Danny said, nudging Robin aside.
Nightwing hummed thoughtfully, “Do ghosts need doctors? You’re dead.”
Frowning, Danny nodded a little. “Well, yes, but that doesn’t take away our ability to get sick. Once we’re dead, we may be unable to catch, say, a cold, but we have other problems. Like with our cores or not feeding our obsessions enough. Stuff like that.”
“So you mentioned before.” Agent A turned back to Danny. “You’ve talked about ‘cores’ a few times. Could you elaborate?”
Danny latched onto the question gratefully. “Yeah! Okay, so—ghost cores are like…our power center. Heart, battery, soul—kind of all rolled into one. When that other ghost shoved me, I think it tangled my core with…whatever Robin’s equivalent is.”
Batman frowned. “Humans don’t have cores.”
“Right,” Danny agreed. “Which is why I was thinking about visiting my doctor. I’m technically only half dead, so that makes things more complicated than it would be if I was just dead-dead.”
‘How does one become only ‘half dead’?’ Robin questioned at the same time someone else started talking. Red Hood maybe?
“Uh, yeah,” Danny shrugged, cutting off whatever was being said. “It’s kinda complicated. But the simplest way of looking at it is to think of me as a corpse who is still animated.”
“...Gross,” Nightwing said with a look of disgust. “So, like a zombie?”
Danny pondered on that for a moment before shrugging, “Eh, kinda. I guess that wasn’t the best description I could’ve given.”
‘You think?’ Robin sneered.
“Most ghosts are just 100% dead, right?” Danny asked. “But for me, I died, but kept being brought back to life in rapid succession. My DNA ended up being infused with ectoplasm, which means that I have both a human form and a ghostly form I guess. I can usually just switch between forms at will, but right now, it’s like I’m stuck in between the two.”
“I think I’m more confused,” Nightwing admitted.
“Tt,” Robin scoffed. “Told you.”
“Told me what?” Hood asked curiously, leaning closer to them.
‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ Danny frowned. ‘It’s not like I’ve had ample opportunities to explain this to tons of people. That’s why I suggested visiting Frostbite.’
“Ah, yes,” Robin drawled. “The yeti. How could I forget?”
“Robin,” Batman cut in sharply. “Report. We’re only getting half of the conversations here.”
Danny nudged his way back to the front of their mind space and took over again. “Sorry. I was just saying that I think we should go visit my doctor, Frostbite, in the Far Frozen so we can get some assistance here. He’s a lot older than I am, so he’d know a lot more about what’s happening here.”
‘You keep neglecting to share that you believe he’s a yeti,’ Robin pointedly said.
Danny rolled his eyes, but focused on Agent A as he asked, “The Far Frozen? Where’s that?”
“It’s in the Infinity Realms or the Ghost Zone. That’s where most ghosts live,” he explained. “It’s also kind of like the glue for all of the afterlives, but I can go into greater explanations later.”
“Right,” Batman grunted. “And where is that?”
“Um,” Danny paused, trying to think of how to explain. “In between everything? I don’t know how to explain it, but I can make a portal anytime to take us there.”
“Can all ghosts make portals?” the man asked, linking his fingers together. “If so, why don’t we see more of them?”
‘Great,’ Robin grumbled. ‘Now you’ve got him interrogating you.’
Danny shook his head. “No. Only ghosts with a lot of power or position can open portals. Most of us have to look for naturally occurring rips or get someone more powerful than us to open one for us.”
“So…” Hood drawled, “Are you saying that you’re a powerful ghost?”
Oh, he supposed he accidentally implied that. “Only kinda, sorta.”
‘Wow, how articulate, Daniel.’
Danny gagged, hand over mouth as everyone around him lurched back while Agent A brought a bin up next to him. “Please never call me that ever again. That was absolutely foul.”
“Call you what?” Nightwing asked curiously.
‘I...apologize,’ Robin acquiesced. ‘I did not think that name would upset you.’
Danny shuddered and responded to both comments, saying, “Just stick with Danny, please.” Flashes of his memories with Vlad rolled through his mind unprompted with a quiet whisper of ‘little badger’ but he resolutely ignored them, hoping Robin hadn’t caught a glimpse.
Agent A gently redirected the conversation again. “Danny, can we contact Frostbite in some way without going to these ‘Infinity Realms’?”
“Kind of,” Danny shrugged. “Reception can be kinda spotty from earth.”
Robin strong-armed him away from the front again to cut in. “What he conveniently keeps leaving out is that Frostbite is apparently an ice-based, interdimensional yeti.”
No one said anything for a moment while Danny shoved Robin back and defended, “Hey, he runs a full clinic. Very hygienic. Great bedside manner, if a bit gruff.”
Hood pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”
Batman’s gaze flicked to Agent A. “Thoughts.”
Agent A adjusted his grip on the scanner, considering. “From a purely medical standpoint,” he said, “I would be remiss to dismiss a specialist familiar with non-human physiology—particularly if Danny’s condition is, as we suspect, metaphysical.”
Robin crowded to the front and stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am always serious, Master Robin,” Agent A replied gently. “I simply have a broader definition of ‘plausible’ than you do.”
Robin pressed on. “Even if this…Frostbite exists,” he said tightly, “we are not inviting a monster into the Batcave.”
Danny bristled. ‘He is not a monster.’
Batman stepped forward. “If this Frostbite can help disentangle them, we explore the option,” he said. “Cautiously.”
Danny brightened instantly, adding, “Oh, he’s super big on consent and boundaries. Also paperwork.”
Hood snorted, shaking his head. “Of course he is.”
Robin scowled. “You are not summoning a yeti.”
‘I don’t summon him,’ Danny corrected. ‘I call. Like a normal patient. There’s a whole intake process.’ He elects to leave out the fact that he usually bypassed most of said intake process.
“Stop talking,” Robin hissed.
Agent A placed a hand lightly on Robin’s shoulder—grounding, firm. “Master Robin,” he said, voice soft but unyielding, “you are injured, compromised, and currently sharing cognitive space with an interdimensional entity. I would advise against dismissing potential solutions out of hand.”
Robin clenched his jaw. “…Tt.”
Danny took that as a maybe.
Agent A turned back to the console. “For now, I will stabilize the physical injuries.” As he worked, the cave settled into a strange rhythm—the hum of machines, the distant drip of water, the quiet presence of people who were very good at waiting. Danny found himself…relaxing. Just a little. The Batcave felt dangerous, yes, but also structured. Anchored. Nothing like the chaotic edges of the Ghost Zone.
He felt Robin notice the shift. ‘Do not get comfortable,’ Robin warned.
Danny smiled faintly. ‘Too late. Your cave has good vibes. Murder vibes, but like...good ones.’
Robin huffed. “You are impossible.”
‘True,’ Danny agreed cheerfully. ‘But hey—look on the bright side.’
Robin didn’t respond.
‘I didn’t get stabbed,’ Danny added.
There was a long pause in their shared mind. “…Tt,” Robin said again, but this time it lacked real heat.
Agent A finished applying a bandage and straightened. “You’ll need rest,” he said. “Both of you.”
Danny blinked. “Oh. Uh. Okay?”
Agent A smiled as Batman turned away, already issuing orders. “Nightwing. Red Hood. Debrief upstairs.”
As the others dispersed, Robin remained seated, rigid but quieter now. Danny settled back, careful not to push, feeling the steady beat of a heart that wasn’t his and the weight of a body he couldn’t leave. Stuck. For now.
‘…Danny,’ Robin said internally, reluctant.
‘Yeah?’
‘…If your doctor is real,’ Robin said slowly, ‘and if he can help…then we will consider it.’
Danny’s relief bloomed warm and bright in his core. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly.
Robin scoffed. “Do not thank me.”
Danny smiled anyway. It was going to be a long night but he had some things going for him. As Agent A padded around the open space, he let himself be lulled into rest. He’d never slept while overshadowing someone, but he hoped it would give Robin some privacy.
Danny woke the next morning feeling tired. Rest, apparently, wasn’t as restful when stuck with another person. He could feel Robin in the back of their shared mind space but he was definitely still asleep. He got up and stretched, aborting the movement halfway through at the feeling of pain in his side.
“Ow,” he muttered. “Note to self, Robin got hurt and you have to suffer through it too.” He supposed he shouldn’t be too upset though because he was way more banged up than this before he got forcefully linked to Robin.
“Yes,” a British voice from behind the bed startled him. “Please do be careful with Master Robin’s body. I’d like for him to heal, not be torn back apart.”
Turning to Agent A, he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, sir. Sorry about this again.”
“No need to apologize,” Agent A dismissed. “Now, while we wait for him to wake up, let's get you started with some breakfast. The others will be down later.”
When handed a massive plate loaded with food, it took everything in him to not salivate. “This smells amazing.” And it looked completely edible. No ectoplasm green anywhere. “Oh! Do you have a phone I could borrow?” he added belatedly.
How the man was able to be so expressive while wearing a mask was honestly impressive, but regardless, Agent A raised a brow and asked, “What do you need to do?”
“I was gonna call Frostbite and see if he could give us any information right off the bat without being seen in person,” Danny said, fiddling with his fork.
He gave a serious nod. “Very well. You may use my phone, but I ask that it be put on speaker.”
“Sure,” Danny agreed easily.
While he started eating, he watched Agent A move back and forth before bringing him a phone, open to the keypad. With a quiet thank you, Danny dialed the number he’d memorized a few years ago at this point and waited while it rang.
When the call finally picked up, there were several distorted grunts before Frostbite spoke. “What is it this time, Great One? If this is because you haven’t been feeding your obsessions properly again, I’m putting you on bedrest until you can prove you can follow instructions.”
“...Uh,” Danny paused. “No? How did you know it was me?”
The yeti sighed and said, “There aren’t many halfas out there. It’s not like many of my patients actually have phones. What happened this time?”
“Funny story, really. So I was being chased down by some of those interdimensional hitchhikers the Observants have been talking about and one got a lucky hit in. Anyway, now I’m stuck overshadowing a vigilante from earth and we don’t know how to get me unstuck,” he explained. “It’s really weird. Usually when I overshadow someone, I have full control but right now it’s like we’re both in the body trying to access everything at the same time.”
“Oh dear,” Frostbite murmured.
Danny winced. That tone was never good.
Agent A leaned a fraction closer, hands folded neatly, listening with the same calm attention he’d given everything else since Danny arrived. Danny kept the phone angled so the speaker was clear.
“Define stuck,” Frostbite continued. “Are you anchored by force, by choice, or by core entanglement?”
“Um, I’m not completely sure,” Danny bit his lip in thought.
In the back of his mind, he could feel Robin starting to stir, irritation bleeding through the edges of sleep. ‘You are speaking to the yeti.’
“Yes, the doctor” he answered distractedly before settling on an answer for Frostbite's question. “And uh—core entanglement sounds closest? I got shoved mid-phase and it felt like my ectoplasm stretched and then snapped into place around…something that isn’t a core but kinda acts like one?”
There was a long, thoughtful rumble on the other end of the line, like the sound of ice grinding together. “Hmm,” Frostbite said. “A living human with no core, yet sufficient metaphysical density to anchor you. That is unusual. Are you currently sharing conscious control?”
Agent A hummed quietly, as if filing the phrasing away for later but not interrupting.
Robin shifted again, sharper this time. Danny felt his awareness rise, coiling tight. “Uh. Yeah,” Danny admitted. “We can both talk. He’s—uh—very grumpy about it.”
‘I can hear you,’ Robin snapped internally, fully awake now.
“Yes, yes,” Frostbite said dryly. “I don’t think anyone would be very happy about being forced to cohabitate one body when both are used to having full control of their own.”
Robin’s eyes snapped open and Danny moved back to give him space, their body going very still. He slowly sat up, every movement controlled despite the lingering injury. His gaze locked onto the phone in his hand, the plate of food in the other. “You,” he said flatly. “You are Frostbite.”
There was a pause. Then, “I am,” Frostbite replied. “And you must be the unfortunate host.”
Danny winced. ‘Oof.'
Robin scowled. “I am not a host.”
“A semantic distinction,” Frostbite said mildly. “But not an inaccurate one.”
Agent A’s mouth twitched and Robin shot him a glare before refocusing on the phone. “You are…an ice-based interdimensional entity.”
“Yes,” the yeti agreed easily.
“…A physician.”
“Yes.”
“…And a yeti,” the young vigilante said, sounding skeptical at best.
“Yes.”
Robin closed his eyes for exactly two seconds, inhaled, then exhaled through his nose. “Of course you are.”
Danny beamed. ‘I told you.’
Frostbite continued on, unperturbed at the brief interruption. “Danny, I assume you attempted to disengage.”
“Multiple times,” Danny said. “It’s like there’s a wall. Not pushing me out—just…locking me in.”
“Anchoring magic, then,” Frostbite concluded. “Likely keyed to your core’s frequency at the moment of impact. Whoever shoved you knew what they were doing—or stumbled into a very effective accident.”
Agent A spoke up smoothly. “Is this condition dangerous?”
“Potentially,” Frostbite replied without hesitation. “Prolonged entanglement can cause feedback. Emotional bleed-through. Exhaustion. In severe cases—identity blurring.”
Danny stiffened. Robin did too, his mental presence spiking sharp and defensive. ‘That’s not great,’ Danny said quietly.
“It is manageable,” Frostbite added. “But not indefinitely. You will need to be examined.”
Robin’s jaw tightened. “Absolutely not—”
“Robin—” Danny started.
“No,” Robin snapped aloud. “You are not taking me to another dimension to be poked at by a creature that should not exist.” His mind continued, ‘Pennyworth’s plenty skilled enough to determine what I have to do.’
Frostbite snorted. “Child. I have treated tyrants, kings, and things that eat stars. You will survive an examination.”
Agent A cleared his throat gently. “Master Robin, if I may—”
“No,” Robin repeated, sharper, but there was hesitation under it now. Danny felt it.
Frostbite’s voice softened, just a little. “Young one, you are compromised. And you are sharing a body with a being whose existence straddles life and death. Pride will not help you here.”
Silence stretched and Danny stayed quiet. Didn’t push. Didn’t poke. He could feel Robin weighing options, cataloguing risks, already planning contingencies even as exhaustion tugged at him. Finally, Robin spoke internally, low and controlled. “If we do this…there will need to be safeguards.”
‘Absolutely,’ Danny said immediately. ‘He can walk you through everything. Step by step. Frostbite’s big on consent, remember?’
“Of course,” Frostbite said. “I will not examine either of you without mutual agreement.”
Agent A inclined his head. “That is reassuring.”
Robin exhaled slowly. “…We will consider it.”
Danny’s relief flared bright enough he nearly glowed.
“Tt,” Robin muttered. “Do not make me regret this.”
Frostbite huffed, amused. “Then prepare yourselves,” he said. “If your worlds are bleeding together, this may not be the only anomaly you face.”
The line clicked off and Danny stared at the phone for a moment before setting it down carefully. He leaned back against the pillow, feeling the steady, stubborn presence of Robin’s mind alongside his own.
‘Well,’ Danny said softly. ‘That went…better than expected?’
Robin shot him a sidelong look. “You have extremely low standards.”
Danny smiled anyway. ‘So…who’s Pennyworth? Is that Batman or Agent A?’
“Nope!” Robin suddenly stood, causing Agent A to pause where he sat. “No.”
“In my defense, I can’t shut your thoughts out for you. I didn’t try to hear it,” Danny defended. “Also, you mentioned a ‘Grayson’ before. Pennyworth doesn’t sound like a first name though, so do you just go around calling everyone by their surnames?”
‘Tt…’ Robin tried to dismiss it. ‘That is none of your concern.’
‘You totally do, don’t you?’ Danny teased.
‘Do you want me to consider this consultation with your make believe yeti or not?’
“Fine, okay,” Danny relented. “By the way, I don’t know if you realize how much you project your thoughts and feelings, but I feel like I should let you know that I know Batman’s your dad and everyone else here is related to you somehow.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Robin started screeching at him, trying to wrestle him back into their shared head space. The younger man’s thoughts were sharp and dug into Danny while they rolled. He wasn’t sure how all of this worked, but he could confidently say that this was officially the weirdest detour his life had ever taken.