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Damian Wayne was waning.
The Heretic was a skilled opponent, easily able to match all of Damian’s moves. Well, of course he could, he was modeled after Damian himself. Their swords clashed in a frenzy of noise, movements, and memories.
Fighting someone who looked so similar to him and was almost equal in skill dredged up unwanted memories of his long-departed twin. Of how well he fought when they sparred and play fought as kids. Of their final fight, right before he was sent off to Father’s. Of his face which matched Damain’s look of shock as he fell to Damian’s sword.
Damian faltered, allowing Heretic to gain the high ground, swiftly plunging his sword through Damian’s heart. Damian collapsed, while a clone wearing a face so similar to his brother’s yet split by a malicious smile loomed over him. The last thought that flew through his mind as he heard his father and brother crash through the door and green light started to creep in amongst the dark, was that at least he might get the chance to be reunited with Danyal, if only in death.
___
Danny Fenton was falling.
His mind was falling in a million different directions as his parents’ portal ripped him apart, his vision flooded with an angry neon energy so similar to Grandfather’s Lazarus pits.
His brother- his friends- his sister- ow, Ow, OW- what did he do to deserve this- it hurts, It Hurts, IT HURTS!!
Danny’s vision dissipated as he was overtaken by a memory of the past minute, but seemingly from an outside perspective. He could see himself walking into the portal, but it felt like he was seeing it as another person, someone floating and watching from above.
He saw himself inching into the metal hunk of a tunnel. It had been dark, near black, with only a soft glow emanating from the lab behind him, partially blocked by Sam and Tucker who were a safe distance away- thank goodness. Danny put a hand out to stabilize himself, and even with years, an entire childhood even, of stealth training, Danny still managed to screw up and trip on some loose wires. His hand felt the button descending and just had a single moment of dread before all his senses were flooded with green once more. The last thought before the pain finally died away and black started to overtake the green was a flash of regret that he never got to see Damian again.
________
The first thing Danny saw when he awoke was green. It wasn’t the same green as- burning, stinging, rage, everything hurts, too much, too much- the portal. It was darker, almost richer. A green sky above him, green-tinted walls, green, green, green.
Sitting up, Danny took in where he was. It was clearly not where he would have thought. Besides the slightly green, off-color look to everything, it was the fact that his location had completely changed.
Where before there had been sleek metal, wires poking out of every angle, now he was in what seemed to be a bedroom. A magnificent room, nonetheless, but not what he was expecting. Danny had never thought that death might be so comforting before. The room was filled with things of Danny's interests, stars and constellations abounding. There were frescos, mosaics, and large, beautiful archways leading to other rooms with subtle, yet homey opulence. A canopy hung down covering the back of the four-poster bed he was laying on, and the ceiling was not a ceiling. Instead, it was a view of the stars, all scintillating beautifully, amidst a dark green sky. As Danny stared in wonder, a shooting star passed overhead, disappearing over the edge of the illusion. Danny sat and watched the view, until his hunger and curiosity drew him out of the room, under the archway into the rest of this new place.
Exploring the rest of the building showed more regal designs, similar to a mix of his mother’s chambers and Sam’s house. There were lots of deep, velvety greens and golds, against the cream walls. Coming down another hallway, Danny found what appeared to be an art room. Danny was somewhat good at art, but the true artist had always been Damian. He could sketch an impressive replica of The Girl with a Pearl Earring at 4 years old, in no time at all. Looking through all the art supplies before him made a deep feeling of saudade and melancholy come over him. He hoped his twin was happy somewhere, had hopefully gotten away from the league, maybe he was with their father now. If only they had gotten the chance to be together and live a normal life.
A sharp noise sounded from behind him. Turning to the doorway, Danny was shocked to meet stormy, green eyes on a familiar face.
“Ahki?”
_______
The first thing Damian felt when he woke was confusion. He was not in a familiar place. He was also not in the Lazarus pit like he half expected. He stayed still with his eyes closed and breathing regularly, assessing the situation he lay in. He was on a bed, the air smelled slightly acidic, and he wasn’t dead.
The surprise of that made him open his eyes in shock. He could still feel the phantom blade running through his heart, but it was still beating, albeit slower than normal. Sitting up, Damain continued to take stock of himself while acclimating to this new environment. The air felt thicker and more acidic, more physically there than it normally would be.
Slowly, after determining it was safe to do so- somehow not feeling the effects of dying- Damian sat up and examined the room, before moving out and into the hall.
Journeying through the halls brought a strange sense of familiarity upon him. The style had some of Mother’s preferences- Don’t think about Mother, Don’t think about her cloning you, don’t think of her face as the pain overtook him, dying- DON’T THINK! - a-and with more of Father’s style of home.
Damian didn’t know where he was, yet it still felt like home to him. As he wandered the halls, things seemed to catch his eye. There were many of his likings plastered on the wall, dozens of his own sketches and others of his favorite art pieces and memories as photos. Amongst his preferences, things like all the photos of star nebulas and drawings that were not by Damian’s hand and memory photos that did not come from him caused confusion. They seemed more like something Danny would have liked or experienced.
It brought a great pain for the thought of his twin, who had loved looking at the stars and drawing alongside Damian on the rare occasion they were able to. He had let go of the activity after Danyal had died and his responsibilities grew greater until coming to Father’s home and finding joy in it once more thanks to his father’s and other siblings’ encouragement.
He came upon an open door, the smell of turpentine and linseed oil pouring out. Glancing inside showed a glorious art room about the same size as his art room in Wayne Manor, but it felt smaller since many of the supplies were doubled, as if for another person as well. Two easels, two stacks of sketchbooks, two pottery wheels. Coming more into the room, Damian turned and fully took in everything, including the other boy at the end of the room, who looked so similar.
The other boy whirled around at Damian’s gasp. It was like looking into a reflective pool. Almost the same, with a ripple or two of differences. Damian was sure though that the look of shock and hope on the other boy’s face was reflected onto his own.
“Ahki?”