Work Text:
Dust in the wind—
Daphne is picking up Tony's taste in music. Not that Harley particularly minds, but he's been hearing nothing but rock music for weeks.
All we are is dust in the wind—
He watches as his little sister dances around the garage, singing along (incorrectly) to the song she's now played three times in a row.
Dust in the wind—
Harley gasps, jumping up from his stool. What the fuck? His hand—What—What's happening—
"Da—"
"—phne!"
Harley gasps.
Air slams into his lungs. His knees nearly give out, hand shooting to the nearest surface to steady himself.
He's not—not turning into dust or whatever anymore.
For a second, every feels.. wrong. His head's spinning, vision swimming as he looks around. Everything is moved around. It's neater, there's new equiptment he doesnt recognize, more advanced than what he has. More advanced than the stuff Tony gave him a couple years ago, even.
And Daphne is— shit, she's not here. She was here. He could've sworn she was here with him before.. before whatever the hell just happened.
“Daph?”
No answer.
His heart starts pounding, loud in his ears. He’s moving before he can think, shoving past the workbench, out of the garage, boots hitting the floor too hard.
“Daphne?”
Nothing.
The house feels… different, as he moves through it. Like theres something new here that shouldn't be. Or something's missing.
He pauses in the kitchen doorway.
There's a girl standting there, looking out the window. Probably around his age, if he had to guess. Hair pulled back with a butterfly clip, hands bracing on the counter as she watches whatever's happening outside.
He doesn't recognize her, but.. she looks a little like Daphne. He swears his brain reboots itself, because that's—thats not possible. Daphne's younger. She's—she's eleven. He knows she's eleven. They just celebrated her birthday a couple months ago.
Before he can say anything, before he can ask why she's in his house, she turns.
"Harley?"
She runs straight into him, hitting hard enough to knock him back a step, arms wrapping tight around his middle like she’s afraid he’ll disappear again.
Harley barely catches himself, hands coming up automatically to steady them.
“You’re back—you’re back, oh my god—”
She’s shaking. Full-body, can’t-catch-her-breath shaking.
“Daph?”
It slips out before he can stop it. Because it has to be her, right? Who else could it be? She's older now, taller, but it's her. He'd know his baby sister anywhere.
“I knew it—I knew he’d fix it, he said he would, I knew he would—”
Harley’s brain is still lagging behind, trying to catch up to what his eyes are seeing, what his ears are hearing.
“…Daphne?”
She finally pulls back, just enough that he can actually look at her.
“Yeah,” she replies, like it’s obvious. Like it’s ridiculous he’d even question it. “Yeah, it’s me.”
"You— you're—"
"Yeah," she repeats. "I know."
“That’s not—” he shakes his head, a short, disbelieving laugh slipping out. “That’s not possible, you were— you were just—”
"I know," she repeats, pulling him back into the hug. "Da—Tony said he was going to bring you back. I didn't—I wasn't sure if-if he—He told me to wait for you. And you're back."
Harley doesn't—what? Back? Where's he back from? Harley didn't go anywhere. He doesn't remember going anywhere. He definitely didn't go anywhere. He wouldn't—
“…are you okay?” he asks, because it feels like the most important question right now. And because it's the only one he can actually get out.
"Yeah," she falls silent for a moment, just staring at him. "Oh, Tony got me a horse, by the way."
"He fucking what?"