DPxDC Prompt #17

Always excited to see you post!

If it’s not too much trouble, could we have more Dad!Tim or Tim raised by Danny?

Love your blog!

oh tysm anon!! here u go <3

It starts weird.

Which, considering Danny’s life, tracks.

He doesn’t plan on adopting a traumatized billionaire’s emotionally neglected child detective. But Tim shows up one day—scraped up, exhausted, eyes like dead stars—and Danny just. Offers him soup.

That’s all.

Not a rescue. Not a battle. Just soup, and a blanket that smells like ghost dog fur, and a “you okay?” asked without expectation.

And Tim, for whatever reason, stays.

It’s not immediate. Danny doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first. Tim starts coming by after patrol, sometimes with bruises, sometimes with files. Sometimes just to sit on the couch and watch garbage TV while Danny does dishes.

Danny, for his part, starts setting out extra food. Starts asking if Tim’s eaten. Starts dragging him to bed when he falls asleep face-first into schematics.

And one day, Tim brings his laundry over. Danny blinks. Tim blinks. They never talk about it again.

There’s a moment.

It’s small.

They’re in the kitchen. It’s 2AM and raining. Danny’s slicing fruit for no reason and Tim’s doing… something with string and duct tape. He’s muttering, hair sticking up in all directions, wearing one of Danny’s hoodies like it belongs to him.

And he says, absently, "Thanks, Dad."

Silence.

Tim freezes. Danny blinks. They both look at each other like they’ve been caught doing something illegal.

Danny says, “...You’re welcome.”

And that’s it.

No one dies. The world doesn’t end. Tim just blushes, mumbles something about the blueprints, and goes back to work.

After that, it’s different.

Danny picks up on it first. The way Tim gravitates toward him in crowded rooms. The way he asks for advice, then pretends he didn’t. The way he lets Danny fuss at him about food and sleep and schedules, even when he’s grumpy about it.

The way Tim lights up when Danny praises him. Like he’s still that little kid who wanted to make someone proud and stopped expecting it a long time ago.

What Danny finds most intriguing, is noticing how Tim starts becoming one of those quiet, velcro kids.

He doesn’t cling. He hovers. Moves around Danny like a satellite—close, watchful, drawn in by gravity. Always sitting just a little too near on the couch. Always finding a way to lean against him when tired. Always relaxing when Danny’s hand ruffles his hair without asking.

Danny catches himself more than once with a Tim-shaped barnacle attached to his side, both of them pretending it’s completely normal.

And honestly? Danny doesn’t mind.

Tim's always been a little starved. But now he has someone to curl into when the nightmares come. Now he has a home, not just a place he sleeps in between battles.

Bruce notices it too.

He notices when Tim stops calling the manor “home.” When he starts redirecting all his mail to Danny’s apartment. When someone asks who Tim’s guardian is, and he doesn’t hesitate before saying, “Oh—Danny.”

Not Bruce. Never Bruce. Not anymore. Tim doesn’t even seem angry about it. He just… moved on. Bruce tries to pretend it doesn’t sting.

Danny doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He’s not Bruce. He’s not a Wayne.

He’s not rich or trained or qualified. But he sees Tim, really sees him, and maybe that’s enough.

Maybe Tim didn’t need another mentor or mission.

Maybe he just needed someone to say: "You don’t have to earn love. You already have it." And mean it.

Danny does. Every day. Even when Tim forgets. Especially when he forgets.

Because the thing is—Danny remembers.

He remembers the first time Tim let himself laugh, unguarded and loud. He remembers the night Tim fell asleep mid-sentence, curled into the corner of the couch with popcorn in his hair. He remembers every subtle shift, every quiet moment of trust.

And he knows—deep down—Tim might never say it again. But he doesn’t have to. Danny already is. Dad, that is. And he's not going anywhere.

Dick, drunk: Man, fuck Jason.

Roy, also drunk, near tears: Dude I'm trying.

True Sight

So I've seen this concept and this concept that Danny can somehow see the true nature of supernatural things.

This can be applied to SO MANY crossovers.

He meets Jake Long, and sees a silhouette of a dragon.

Juniper Lee looks like a she has a flaming shield on her back, shackled to her by rusty chains.

Steven Universe somehow looks like a 100 m monster, a giant princess, a large woman, and a really big pink guy all at the same time, depending on the exact angle he's looking at.

He almost goes blind when he meets Sakura Kinomoto. Her power is overwhelming and bright. Oddly enough, he's almost invisible to her.

He has no idea what to make of Q when he somehow ends up in an alternate 24th century. All he knows is that he's never seen anything that powerful, and never will again.

He can't see the true form of cybertronians the same way he can see through the paranormal, but energon leaves an odd taste in the air that makes their vehicle modes ineffective against him. He freaks out a little when he meets Sari.

Johnny Blaze feels every level of wrong imaginable and looks even worse.

Constantine is literally wrapped up in litigation.

He meets the Spectre ONCE and vows to never see him again.]

Cal x Bode

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First Visit

OG

In a series of unknown events Jason woke up to something warm and vibrating on his chest, as well as what he belatedly recognized as purring near his face.

Opening his eyes he found a fluffy black cat on his chest, doing what Damian had called a "perfect cat loaf" once when showing him a picture of Alfred the cat. Rubbing his eyes he stared at the cat, he didn't have a cat.

Bedroom door? Closed.

Window? Closed.

How did a cat get in here? Did Damian need to hide a cat and forget to tell him? He shuddered as he was reminded of that one time out of many in the league where he woke up with some kind of lizard or snake suddenly in his room.

Well, the purring was nice, and Jason knew as well as anybody that you didn't disturb a napping kitty. Reaching over to his nightstand he looked at his phone, no new messages from his family, a pic from Roy with Lian did make him smile at least. Opening the chat with Damian he took a photo of the cat and sent it with the caption " This yours?"

He saw that the message got read, then nothing, okay then.

"Yip!" Suppressing a flinch and clutching his phone, so he didn't throw it, he snapped his head to the side and saw a small, green puppy leaning its head on his mattress while staring up at him.

Slowly Jason turned his phone to snap another picture, this time of the dog, before sending it to Damian with a "What the fuck?" - read again, then nothing. The puppy whimpered. Jason glanced at it again. The puppy seemed to stand on its hind legs while his front legs were now clawing at his mattress so he could get up on the bed.

"The brat owes me so much, up you go, be nice to the cat." Helping the dog up with one hand while trying not to jostle the cat was a bit of a struggle with the pup squirming so much. But as soon as the puppy was up he walked over to the cat, laid his head down on his front paws and gave small licks to the cats' side.

The cat opened its eyes, an intense green, nearly glowing, turned to the dog, gave him a lick over his nosebridge and then went back to napping.

The puppy jumped up, proceeded to hit Jason square in the face with his fast wagging tail and then gave playful growls to the cat, obsiously wanting to play.

The cat ignored it.

The puppy suddenly pounced, making the cat roll off Jasons chest with a squaking meow before it landed on its legs and proceeded to jump off the bed towards Jasons legs and then to the ground. The puppy followed, happily yipping at the cat. White botted paws now visible as Jason feared the worst, but before he could do anything the cat suddenly stilled, ears flickering.

The puppy tilted its head, gave the cat a lick before the cat swished its tail into the puppies face and bolted through the wall out of the bedroom.

Well... that explained how it entered, and the puppy followed, also through the wall, and Jason decided he needed breakfast before he tried to make sense of what just happened.

He stopped when he saw Damian break in through the window just as he entered his living room. The two brothers stared at each other.

"Tt. Where is the cat Todd?" Damian closed the window behind himself, looking around.

"It ran outside through the wall." 'Cause why not? Why should Jason be the only one baffled on this fine morning?

Aspiring Escape Artist

(DCxDP) | Masterpost | Next to be written

"Alright, Mr. Fenton," his newest social worker started, turning in her seat so she might actually get him to look at her. Danny continued looking out the window and up at the gigantic building they were parked in front of.

"This is your last chance before the system declares you unfit for foster homes and sends you off to juvie. And before you get all uppitty about it, know this is as much your fault as it is the system's."

Danny rolled his eyes, watching as shadows rushed past windows too tinted to actually see into. Another shadow darted past a lower one, dragging his eyes down and toward the door. The shadow was quickly followed by three more, one of them waving something over their head.

Allowing his hearing to spread out from its usual range, Danny listened as muffled shouts filled the air, quickly turning into clear words.

"GET THE MASK, GET THE MASK!"

"SHIT!" fallowed by a thump and the sound of a large piece of furniture tipping backward and landing.

"I GOT IT!" another voice cried.

"HEY, I HAd that, you little shit-"

Danny quickly pulled his hearing back, not wanting to listen anymore. He already knew he was going to hate it here.

"Now, Mr. Wayne has taken in a lot of kids and has been very gracious to open his home to you. Make no mistakes, young man. You will listen to what he tells you, and so help me, if you cause this man any trouble whatsoever, you will regret it. Stay in the car until I tell you you can get out. I need to go over your file with Mr. Wayne first."

She was acting like Danny was some delinquent picked up fresh from a gang fight. He was half tempted to act like it just to spite her, but bit his tongue and continued looking around the place.

The large garden surrounding the building was obviously well taken care of, the green hummed happily as the (what Danny's gathered) rare sun shone in the sky.

His control over plants still needs work, but he's gotten good enough to connect to the green and get the general feelings. Like how the man who just walked out the front doors was greatly loved by the plants, which meant he was the one taking care of them.

"Are you even listening to me?" the lady huffed, unbuckling herself and shoving the car door open. She was already standing and treating the old man before Danny could respond.

"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth, was it? Hi, I'm Ms. Clance, I'm Danny's social worker. Is Mr. Wayne home?" she slammed the door shut and held her hand out for a handshake.

The older man eyed her hand but otherwise ignored it, instead turning to look at Danny, who was still in the car. "That is correct, Ms. Clance. Master Wayne is in his study; he'll be down in a moment to discourse any last minute things you need to cover. Now, why don't we get Mr. fenton inside and aquanted with the others?"

"Hold on for just a moment," Ms. Clance cut in, sending Danny a nervous glance. Danny raised his brow, but continued to pretend he couldn't hear a word they were saying, 'waiting' for her signal to get out of the car.

The front door opened behind them, three heads popping out in an obvious attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation. There was an older guy, maybe in his mid to late twenties, a blond girl, still in her teens, and a guy with eyebags. Though Danny's were definitely worse, he might have Tucker beat. which was worrying, because what could this guy possibly need to pull three all-nighters for?

"I would like to speak with Mr. Wayne before letting the kid settle in. No offence, but I want to make sure Mr. Wayne is serious in wanting to house the kid. We've already had three other families agree to take him on and then drop him in less than a month."

"I see," Mr. Pennyworth hummed, studying Danny with a sharp eye. Danny studied him back; he had good posture, and his graying hair was slicked back. He had a mustache but no other facial hair, so he obviously kept himself well-maintained. Jazz said people like that were more likely to be well-disciplined and lean toward being blunt and honest.

His stance didn't lean toward classic butler, though; it leaned toward fighting and alert. He had experience in the army or something then, which meant Danny would have to keep an eye on this guy. he probably was the one running the house when Mr. Wayne wasn't around. which meant he'd be the one watching Danny the most.

"I still believe the young man should come inside, master wayne doesn't go back on his words, and he'll unlikely do so now."

Ms. Clance warily glanced at Danny, then back at Mr. Pennyworth, a fake smile plastered on her face, before one of the three spying on the cut in," yeah! I want to meet the little guy!"

The door swung open, allowing even more people to crowd around and watch the scene in front of them.

"And you will," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to face the growing group. "Once I speak to Mr. Wayne. We have to go over a few things in Daniel's file before I can sign off on all of this."

"Like, what?" the blond one asked, her eyes meeting danny's as she skipped down the stairs. Danny could just tell she'd be down for all sorts of chaos. And he could also tell she'd be glued to his side until her interest died, which would take only clockwork knows how long.

Instinctively, Danny reached out and grabbed the door, just as someone tried opening it. Glancing up and to the side, Danny met gray eyes. It was the other girl he had spotted a few minutes before.

She stared at him for a moment before smiling and stepping back. 'You can come out,' she signed. Danny glanced back at Ms. Clance, then back to the girl before sighing and getting out.

Her eyes lit up once he closed the door and turned back to her.

"You know sign," she asked, her voice quiet but not obviously disused.

'absoltly not', danny signed just to be a little shit. Turning back, he stared at his social worker, who was watching them in confused frustration.

"Daniel, what did I say about staying in the car?" She looked ready to march over and smack him.

"I thought you decided I wasn't listening?" Danny pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning back against the car. If she wanted to waste time, then that was perfectly alright with him.

"Never mind," she huffed, turning back to the butler. (he had to be a butler; he looked just like the one at Sam's place or the one his parents employed when they had made that deal with the GIW.)

"You never answered my question," Blondy cut in, smiling sweetly at the frustrated woman.

"Like the plethora of misdemeanors?" Danny asked, watching as everyone turned to look at him. The gray-eyed girl had slowly made her way back to join the others, though she still looked happy for some reason.

"no," ms. Clance huffed, obviously starting to get overwhelmed for some reason. she needed to take a step back and breath, there was literally no reason for her to be this agitated.

"More like we need to go over how many times you snuck out, got seriously injured, seriously injured someone else, and sent your last foster parent to a mental facility."

"All classified as misdemeanors, so obviously not that bad," Danny waved off, rolling his eyes. "And Mr. Thompson deserved it."

"You drove that man insane!" she hissed, swatting a piece of her hair out of her face.

Danny blinked at her, tilting his head to the side in confusion, "He was already insane before I got there, though?" which was actually quite annoying. danny's dealt with enough insane people at this point, he'd rather hug Vlad than deal with another one.

"He was not," Ms. Clance sniffed, trying to straighten herself out.

"he definitely was," Danny argued, pulling his backpack tighter against his back in annoyance. "The dude thought locking me in a room and feeding me white rice once a day was perfectly fine."

Danny ignored the sudden stilted silence at his words, choosing to instead focus on the man slowly making his way outside and over to them.

"Would you stop making things up already?" Ms. Clance huffed, "We've already gone over this. There wasn't a lock on your door, and there was plenty of food in the pantry."

Danny rolled his eyes, going back to studying the gray-eyed girl. The happy sparkle was gone, and she was making hand signals that the others around her were focused on. It wasn't a dialect of sign he knew, most likely a self-made code then.

"Don't need a lock to lock someone up," Danny grumbled, turning back to Ms. Clance, "and if that doesn't count as insane, then talking to the shadows on the wall and claiming to be immortal does. Do you know how many times that man tried jumping in front of cars or out of a window? Way too many. So yeah, he deserved to go to the mental institution, where he'll get some actual help."

"right," ms. clance waved off, turning to continue talking to Mr. pennyworth. danny cut in before she could, "so, do you guys make it a habit; lingering back and listening to conversations?"

The rest blinked, then turned to see who exactly he was talking to, their eyes following his as they finally spotted the man they were all waiting for.

"ah," mr. wayne chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "sorry, I didn't want to interup. it sounded important."

"Right," Danny huffed, glaring at the man. Honestly, all the eavesdropping and being loud as hell was turning out to be a regular thing based on the fact that no one else was acting like it wasn't.

Yeah, he was going to hate it here if that was true.

"The Entity Known as Phantom has finally been Discorperated."

The rest of the broadcast faded to background noise as the Teen Titans sat in stunned silence. The pride from the announcer, in his all white suit and dark sunglasses, felt thick and oily and slimy as it made their hackles raise.

They'd heard of the G.I.W. a few times in passing, but even Phantom had brushed the group off as a non-issue, saying he'd been dealing with and evading them for three years. The group was supposedly as incompetent as incompetent got.

So then how? And when? It'd only been a few days since he'd said he was going to visit his sister. He wasn't even expected back for another week and a half.

How had they gotten their hands on Phantom, who could consciously control how physical he was at a given moment?

And how could they have "Discorperated" a ghost?

Would Phantom return?

Could Phantom return?

What, exactly, did they mean by "Discorperated" anyway?

Each member of the team was now looking at each other as thoughts swirled and unasked questions remained unanswered. The News was muted, though no one could quite remember who had hit the control. "Tense" wasn't quite the right word to describe the air, but it was awfully close.

Kon snapped his head to the side, however, breaking the silent group staring contest when he heard the nearly silent wet sniffle from behind the couch. Straining his hearing and every other power under his command didn't reveal anything else to him, however. He didn't hide anything when asked, and it gave them the slightest hope that, just maybe, their friend might still be around.

---

The Justice League had cracked down hard after one of their own, a hero, a child, had been hurt. Possibly permanently.

It only took Batman and Oracle a week to access the G.I.W. test logs. Find the video and written reports of the direct application of Ectoranium leading to "Destabilizing of the Concentrated Ectoplasm at the Core of the Entity."

Superman had cursed when those words were read at the next League meeting, his hands clasped tightly in front of his mouth as he trembled with barely restrained fury. He wasn't the only one, either. They all felt like they had failed.

---

There were riots, ongoing, demanding justice for the ghost, the boy, who'd saved so many people and never asked for anything in return. Everyone who knew anyone was speaking up, interviewing with talk shows, news broadcasts, podcasts, papers, and magazines. Word was getting out everywhere, and even other countries were having protests. After all, the League protected the world, and the Titans had gone just as far.

---

A Shadow seemed to have taken up residence in the Titan's Tower. A few weeks had passed now since Phantom had last been seen.

It didn't take long for word to spread, and now they were holding a small seance with Zatanna and Raven. An untouched Ouija board and radio set in the center of the small circle. Lit candles formed a loose circle around their circle of friends.

One of the candles briefly flickered a signature green as Zatanna led, offering the radio and board for whatever spirit was with them to use, but not to keep. The radio briefly lit green before sputtering and dying.

"Spirit with us, what is your name?" Names hold power, after all, and with a name they could banish the spirit if they need to.

The plamchet slowly moved across the board, pausing deliberately to spell D-A-N-N-Y.

"Danny, do you know the name, Phantom?" Words had to be very deliberate with unknown spirits, after all. Zatanna was more familiar with the rules, so she led for now.

The plamchet slid over to YES.

"Danny, does Phantom still exist in some way beyond memory and word and deed?"

YES.

"Danny, will you tell us how you know Phantom?" Indirect, with an opportunity to elaborate. Not every spirit would answer a question like that, but if the spirit was especially helpful, it just might.

YES. A-M. Hope blossomed for a moment, and in the pause, the plamchet continued. D-A-N-N-Y-P-H-A-N-T-O-M.

"Phantom's name is Danny? And you are Phantom, Danny? Is that correct?" The last thing they wanted was false hope, so better to clear everything up if they could.

YES. YES. YES.

Hopeful looks were shared around before excitement filled the room. Their friend was here, still. Zatanna gave a nod for the Titans to keep going.

"How are you feeling, P?"

W-E-A-K.

T-I-R-E-D.

"Is there anything we can do to help? We miss you, man."

There was a pause before it moved again. M-I-S-S-U-2.

S-T-A-R-S-?

"You wanna stargaze with us tonight, P?"

YES P-L-S.

"I'll get the blankets!"

Another DPxDC drabble, this time Sam going to Bruce Wayne for help

Who knows, maybe I'll add this to the dead on main fic I'm working on. We'll see. Anyway, more under the cut.

The air was cold and clammy, laden with heavy gray clouds and drizzling sheets of rain when Sam Manson stepped out onto the driveway. The rain pattered a steady rhythm on her black umbrella and she folded her long batwing sleeve over her arm to shut the car door behind her. The sleek black airport taxi idled quietly behind her as she turned to take in the familiar mansion looming before her.

The wrought iron gate arcing above her head was slick with rain, but a singular call button and speaker sat sheltered out of the rain. Sam approached and reached to press the button with a single black-tipped finger. The speaker hummed to life a moment later.

“Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking. How may I help you?” The voice was smooth and poshly British, and Sam took a breath of the cool October air.

“Samantha Manson to see Bruce Wayne,” she murmured into the cold metal. It felt wrong to speak at any higher of a level.

There was a moment’s pause and Sam smoothed her hand over the black lace of her dress. She could do this.

“Were we expecting you this evening, Ms. Manson?” The voice replied after a moment.

Sam pursed her lips together and raised her chin. She put on her best impression of her mother. “No, you were not. However, I believe this to be a matter urgent enough to warrant such a visit.”

“I see,” Pennyworth said. And then, “Why don’t you come in out of the rain? I will contact Master Bruce once you’re safely indoors.”

Sam let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Please, call me Alfred.”

Then the speaker clicked off and Sam took a step back so the gates could slowly swing open on their motorized hinges. She waved off her driver and watched them reverse down the long driveway, then turned back to the building that loomed above her. She took a breath.

She could do this.

⋆₊✧₊⋆

The foyer of Wayne Manor looked much the same as Sam remembered from the few galas she’d attended within its walls – vaulted ceilings, sweeping staircases, and two wings diverging off to the left and right. To Sam’s knowledge, neither she nor any of the other gala guests had ever ventured beyond the ground floor before. She wondered if that would change tonight.

Alfred Pennyworth took her umbrella at the door and she made sure to lightly wipe her boots on the mat inside the door. She felt the inherent urge to remove them before stepping further into the house, but none of the Waynes seemed to be from a similar culture, so she dismissed the feeling.

Alfred showed Sam the way to the drawing room to the right and gestured at one of the many cushy couches. “Have a seat if you wish, Ms. Manson,” he said politely. “Master Bruce is finishing up a call in his study and will be out to greet you shortly. In the meantime, may I offer you some tea?”

Sam took a seat and nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “Earl Grey if you have it, please.” Alfred nodded and stepped through a side door that Sam hadn’t even noticed. And then she was alone.

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly together. She was here now, and there was no going back. If she intended to go through with her plan, she couldn’t back down now. The entire endeavor was a long shot, but it was the only option she had left.

The only option Danny had left.

Alfred returned after a few minutes with a tray laden with fine china and two steaming cups of tea. There were also tea sandwiches and scones, and Sam took one comprised of cucumber and cream cheese along with her tea. She thanked the butler again, and he backed out of the room with a bow. She almost felt like she was back in Japan.

A clock on the far side of the room ticked away the time. One minute, then two, then three. After seven movements of the minute hand, footsteps sounded from the foyer. Sam placed her teacup down and folded her hands once again in her lap as Bruce Wayne approached.

“Samantha,” he said warmly as he swept into the room. He was dressed in a crisp navy suit with the top few buttons undone. His shoes were a clean but well worn pair of loafers. “Or Sam, rather. Is that right?” Sam nodded. Mr. Wayne crossed to and settled into a chair opposite Sam, seizing the second cup of tea from the tray on the low table between them. He grinned at her over the lip of it. “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s not often that people make the journey to Gotham, and certainly not all by their lonesome.”

Sam gave the man a small smile. She wanted to slap the joviality off his face.

“I’m afraid I’m here for business,” she said instead. “Not pleasure.”

Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows raised and he set his teacup down.

“Is that so?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat and regarded her with keen eyes, sweeping them clinically over her person before returning his gaze to her face. “What business do you wish to discuss, then? I don’t recall having any dealings with your parents in recent memory.”

“That’s correct,” Sam said as evenly as she could. She got the distinct impression Mr. Wayne was humoring her. She squared her shoulders. “I should clarify that I’m not here on my parents’ behalf. I’m here for my own interests.” He raised his eyebrows higher. “Or, I should say, the interests of the world.”

There was a pause. Wayne sat up a little straighter.

“The interests of… the world?” He repeated.

Sam nodded. “It is my understanding that you are one of the main financial backers for the Justice League. Is that correct, Mr. Wayne?”

“It is,” Mr. Wayne confirmed, eyebrows drawing together.

“And the Batman?” Sam pushed.

“Well…” Wayne laughed slightly at that and waved a vague hand in the air. “If he were to exist, then sure. But he’s scarcely more than a ghost.”

“He was on national television with Wonder Woman last week, sir,” Sam deadpanned.

Mr. Wayne chuckled and spread his hands like what can you do? Sam did not return his smile. She was quickly becoming sick of seeing his stupidly bright teeth and she hadn’t been in his presence for 10 minutes. She ground her teeth.

When Sam didn’t respond, Mr. Wayne dropped his hands and studied her face. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and met Sam’s gaze seriously.

“What’s this about then, Sam?” He asked. Sam tried not to prickle too obviously at the use of her name. “What business on behalf of the world have you traveled all this way to present to me?”

Sam took a slow breath through her nose. She unclasped her hands, blood rushing back into them at the release of pressure. She’d brought the folder, but the idea of actually handing it over had her stomach clenching. Amity Park and its inhabitants were her best kept secret, the one she and her friends didn’t dare to speak of outside of its borders. And more than that…

“Have you ever heard of the Ghost Investigation Ward, Mr. Wayne?”

The words just sort of fell out of her mouth, but it worked well enough as a start. It was clearly not what Wayne had expected her to say, at least. The man across from her blinked a few times before his face settled into a confused frown.

“I can’t say that I have. And, please, call me Bruce.” Sam nodded once. She’d expected that Bruce wouldn’t know of the GIW, of course, had even hoped so. But it still stung to be reminded how alone she and her friends had been in dealing with this for all these years.

Sam took a steeling breath. She could do this.

Sam reached into the depths of her sleeve and withdrew the folder. She set it carefully on the table between the two of them, to the right of the tea tray. Bruce tracked the motion before returning his quizzical gaze to her. Sam’s heart rabbitted in her chest, but she forced herself into calm. She breathed in and out once, then spoke.

“This file contains all of the information I have on an agency funded solely by the US government that has been carrying out unlawful experimentation on nonhuman entities for nearly half a decade.”

Silence. Wayne stared. Sam pushed on.

“Their work is in direct contradiction with the Meta Protection Acts, yet they have full authorization from and the full support of the federal government. They–”

“That is quite the accusation,” Bruce interrupted with a frown. Sam couldn’t help the glare she shot his way.

“It’s not an accusation,” she said forcefully. Perhaps a bit too forcefully, because Wayne leaned back slightly in his chair. She took a long breath and searched for that internal place of calm. This was for Danny. She didn’t have the freedom or luxury of letting her emotions control her right now.

She tried again.

“It’s not an accusation, Bruce,” she repeated more calmly. “It’s the truth. This file,” she tapped the closed brown cover and Mr. Wayne’s eyes followed the movement, “should have everything required to substantiate my claims and more. It contains copies of the contracts signed between the ward and the Homeland Security, as well as receipts for funds provided by the government in order to create their so-called ‘experimental facilities.’”

She couldn’t help the way her lips curled into a sneer as she spoke, but Wayne wasn’t looking at her. His eyes had locked onto the Homeland Security crest stamped across the file in front of him. Good.

“The file also contains records of the ward’s stated goals, recent movements, and the results of all of their experiments, up until about a month and a half ago. Once reviewed, I’m sure you’ll find that everything about this agency, from its methods to the very purpose of its creation, is at odds with everything the Justice League stands for.”

And you, I hope, she added silently. Please don’t stand for it, either.

Wayne was flitting between looking at the file and Sam, questions swimming in his eyes. Before he could interrupt again, Sam flipped open the folder to its first page. Bruce sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the file and leaned forward to inspect it. 

Sam watched his eyes rove over the photos Tucker had managed to pull from the GIW’s database before they’d moved it offline: the torn and broken bodies of countless ghosts, the remains of beings that had been ripped apart for no reason beyond human hate and curiosity. Wayne’s eyes were wide as he took it all in, and his skin had paled to an ashy grey. Good.

“This is the business I traveled all this way to discuss with you,” Sam told him grimly. His eyes flicked to hers momentarily before they were drawn inexorably back to the carnage laid out before him. He pulled the file closer, mouth pressed into a thin line. “This is why I ventured to Gotham all by my lonesome and showed up on your step with no warning. These are the interests of the world I come to represent.”

Sam let him take in the horror before him, to soak in the ghastly knowledge that Sam had been living with for over a year now, for a long minute. When he took a breath and began to pull back, she snapped the folder closed and returned it to her sleeve. Bruce looked up when she did so, and she could’ve laughed at the look on his face if the situation weren’t what it was. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Sam,” Bruce said gravely, sinking back into his chair with a shake of his head. “This is–” he started, but Sam held her hand up. She wasn’t finished yet.

Bruce complied, leaning back in his chair and covering his mouth with a hand. Sam folded hers back into her lap.

“I am under no illusions that you extended me the favor of this unplanned meeting for any reason other than my family’s name,” Sam told him. Bruce didn’t even try to object. “So I am going to ask that you keep your opinion of me and my name in mind when I ask you for this next favor.”

Sam met his gaze, willing him to understand how much she needed this. How much Danny needed this. This was their last resort.

After a long, tense moment, Wayne nodded. “I’ll listen,” he said softly. “Whatever you need, I’ll hear you out.”

Sam’s throat tightened at the words, and she nodded stiffly. She was almost done. She could get through this.

“If you mean that,” she started, but her voice broke. She swallowed it away. “If you mean that, then what I need from you, Mr. Wayne, is a meeting with the Batman.”

The silence after the words left her mouth felt suffocating. Bruce just looked at her. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she held his gaze defiantly, chin raised. She wouldn’t let him say no. He couldn’t say no.

“The Batman?” Wayne asked after a moment. She nodded again, through the lump in her throat. Bruce frowned, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Then, “Why the Batman?”

Sam blinked. “Sorry?” She asked.

“Well, why not any of the other members of the Justice League? Surely this is something that could be investigated by any one of them.”

“I…” Sam didn’t have a response prepared for that. She squeezed her hands together. “I guess… he’s the one I trust the most to get justice.”

Wayne nodded slowly, considering her through calm eyes. “Is that what you want?” He asked. “Justice?”

Sam hesitated. There were a lot of things she wanted. Justice was one. Revenge, another. Danny to be safe more than anything, really.

But when she thought of herself, of Tucker and the people of Amity Park, of the ghosts who had simply left the Zone at the wrong time…

“Yes,” Sam whispered. Her throat burned. “I want justice.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, to hope for. There were so many ridiculous things she hoped for these days.

“I want to see the GIW demolished,” she continued despite herself. She clasped her hands hard, feeling the muscles shift and the bones grind. A tear threatened to slip down her cheek. “I want to see the agents pay for what they’ve d-done. I want to look every single o-one of them in the fa-face and know that they understand what they’ve d-done. The lives they’ve ruined.”

A sob bubbled up and Sam tried to push it away but it was no use. Now that she’d started, there was no stopping it, no stemming the waves of emotion.

“I want them to understand it and to be f-forced to live with it,” she said through gritted teeth. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks. “I want what they did to destr- destroy them like it’s destroyed u-us. And I want- I want anyone, anyone at all, to acknowledge that they- they left us there! They- they left us there! In that fucking town to rot! To deal with it by ourselves and we can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” Sam covered her mouth with one half numb hand, but the sobbed words came anyway. “I can’t save him!”

Just saying the words out loud had Sam doubling over on the couch, sobs wracking through her body. It felt so good to finally say it, to finally admit it to herself, that she couldn’t reel herself in.

“Oh god,” she cried into her knees. “I can’t- can’t- I couldn’t save him! He’s- and I can’t do anything!” She pressed her skull into the bone of her knees, panting into her skirt as sobs wracked uncontrollably through her body.

A weight dipped onto the couch beside her, and suddenly Sam was tilting over slightly into a strong, warm body. Mr. Wayne didn’t say anything as he held her. He didn’t offer the empty assurances she had come to expect from adults, didn’t try to convince her it was okay, or that she didn’t need to be so upset. He just pulled Sam gently onto his lap and let her cry and cry and cry.

Sam didn’t know how long she laid there, hiccupping and sniffling into Mr. Wayne’s cotton suit. It was just until the burning, aching guilt began to abate, and she was finally able to quell the tears.

Once she’d stopped crying, the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Mr. Wayne’s arm was a reassuring weight across her shoulder and back. Sam listened to the clock tick away across the room and tried to breathe in time with the second hand. Seven seconds in, eleven seconds out – just like Jazz had taught them.

Tears returned to her eyes at the memory, but she just let them fall where they may. She didn’t have enough energy to do much else.

“Why don’t you stay the night in one of our guest rooms, Sam,” Mr. Wayne suggested quietly. He rubbed a gentle hand up and down her arm. “Most of my children are away from home at the moment, so you’ll have the floor to yourself. It’ll just be my youngest, Damian, on the floor below you. Alfred can make it up for you now, if you’d like?”

Sam sniffed and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her face felt tight and dry despite the waterworks, and she resisted the urge to wipe at it. She relished the idea of being able to wash away her ruined makeup and sleep the day off in a real bed, rather than at the hotel as she’d planned.

“Yes,” she agreed quietly. “That sounds very nice, thank you.” She saw Mr. Wayne smile at her from the corner of her eye before he stood and called for Alfred. The two of them had a quiet conversation that she ignored in favor of gathering herself further, and then the butler vanished once again. Sam looked up at Bruce.

“You… You believe me, right?” She asked tentatively. She felt childish saying it, but she had to know this hadn’t been a waste. She had to know there was still hope. “You’ll think about what I said?”

Bruce Wayne gave her a soft smile, much realer than the ones she’d received when she’d first arrived. He returned to his spot on the couch and took her hand, looking her in the eye.

“If there is any truth to what you’ve told me,” he started and Sam couldn’t help the face she made. “Of which I have no doubt,” Bruce added quickly, with another slightly ironic smile. Then his face grew more serious, and he gently squeezed her hand between both of his. “Then I will do everything in my power to see the GIW stopped and shut down, permanently. You will get your justice, Sam. I guarantee it.”

And, just for that moment, Sam actually believed him.

Random idea Sorta Maybe Blind

Clockwork has been teaching Danny how to do pretty much everything blind. why is unknown

Untill now

After a way too close call with his parents/GIW he almost got fully dissected! He decided to initiate plan 42 Stich wounds,Grab shit,and hall ass to Gotham. Gotham has enough ectoplasm for him to stay long term not nearly as much as Amity Park but it has enough

After one pain filled flight he arrives in a dungey bathroom in Gotham. He looks in the mirror and sees

Oh

What the fuck!?!?

Apparently even though Gotham has a decent amount of ectoplasm He didn't know he needed way more to look alive. He looks ill!?! his skin became three shades paler making his bruises and eyebags stand out more. his hair being way more wild than usual and fluffy-er? He somehow looks smaller and skinner than before, and his eyes

Oh ancients his eyes

There still blue but they're diluted they have that heavy milk quality to them and his pupils are permanently dilated. He can see but he looks like he can't

That's why Clockwork taught him how to do things blind so he can pretend to be blind! cuz there's no way people are going to believe that he can see!?!

He grabbed his bag packed and gifted from Sam, Tucker, and Jazz left the bathroom, clossed his eyes, and started to figure out what he should do.

Bruce's adoption sense seems to be tingling He wonders what that's about.

Visiting an old friend

The whole way to Bludhaven Danny kept on telling himself that surely he’d made a mistake. He knew he could be impulsive sometimes but flying to Bludhaven on a rumor? He felt like he was a teenager all over again.

It’d been some dumb article he’d found while trying to focus on editing the design of a Fenton battery. It was a Bludhaven paper he’d forgotten to unsubscribe to that sent him a breaking news email. He used to eat up those papers, glad to have any way to see how his old friend was doing, but now it just felt suffocating to remember. He’d almost deleted it without even opening it, but some nagging feeling told him he should open it. He never would've expected to open it to a new blurry photo of a figure in blue, soaring above on the rooftops.

He barely got a couple of sentences into the article claiming that Nightwing could be back before he shot out of his apartment. Ever since that day when he watched invisibly as his coffin was laid in the ground he searched for Dick’s ghost. But no ghost this new could control their appearance that well. Colors were some of the hardest to control after all. So Dick could be… he really could be…

After that, the rest of the flight was much more nerve-wracking. He hadn’t ever met the other bats, but he knew that they could have some interesting rouges. Some kind of convoluted plan might have been behind all of this. Maybe someone was impersonating him? Or maybe some other blue vigilante has taken up Bludhaven… Was one of Dicks siblings taking over the Nightwing name? That last one was quickly shot down though. He saw how distraught the group was, he doubted if they would’ve even been able to touch the suit without breaking inside.

So all that led him to now, standing outside Dicks apartment building. Before they lost touch this was the place Dick told him he could go if he ever needed help. And seeing the lit-up rooms from the outside, Danny knew that at least someone had to have been there.

For the sake of normality, Danny decided to take the stairs within the building to Dicks floor. It definitely wasn’t because he was nervous or anything… it had nothing to do with that at all. Although the stairs seemed to reach the top quicker than he expected. 

He walked up to the apartment number that he was told about. A snarky ‘This house has gone 0 days without a pun’ welcome mat sat outside the door. The joke actually helped Danny calm down a bit, breathing in a deep breath of the slightly dusty hallway air before letting it out again. Without further ado, he rapped his knuckles on the hardwood door. Internally he winced at the loud noise. It was much later at night than any normal person would be awake. If someone was here and had a good sleep schedule then Danny probably just woke them up.

A few minutes passed by before his hearing picked up movement in the apartment. One part of him jumped in excitement, while the other sank with anxiety. Was that Dick? Or was it one of his siblings? Damn, Danny should have gone through with this invisibly, that way if it is one of the siblings he won’t have to face them. But it was much too late for that now, he knew that there had to be at least one camera facing him right now. Maybe he can just pretend to be lost? But then why would he climb up so many floors just to ask for directions? He really should’ve thought this through…

Before he could sink any lower into his panic the door let out a click of a lock. Momentarily frozen, he watched as the door slithered open without so much as a creak. To his amazement, the Dick Grayson stood staring back. He looked tired and was dressed in comfortable civilian clothes, but it was Dick. Before anything could be said Dicks eyes went down to look into Danny’s. His eyebrows creased in confusion, no doubt surprised by the random visit.

“Danny?” Dick questioned, his voice sounding a bit rough around the edges.

Danny couldn’t help the disbelieving smile from creeping up on his face.

“Hey Dick,” He spoke, his grin never leaving his face. “I’ve really missed you.”

A small breathy laugh of shock left Dicks lips as he looked down at Danny. He loosened his stance at the door, seeming to relax now that he knew who was there. Danny couldn’t help but feel bad at the scare he must have given the other. 

“I hadn’t thought we’d be seeing each other again. It’s been…” 

Years, Danny finished in his head. We haven’t seen each other in years.

They initially met on the streets funnily enough. Danny had been on the run from the GIW and Dick had been freshly fired from Robin and kicked out of the manor. Not that either one knew that much of each other at first. Danny had been hiding in a warm corner of a building when Dick bumped into him trying to find a warm place to stay as well. Danny offered for him to stay, not seeing any danger in letting someone around his age stay with him. After that things got revealed slowly, like Dick realizing that Danny wasn’t just homeless, he was hiding. And Danny noticing the odd skills that Dick had and the way the other held himself back in other situations. Slowly their secrets were shared with each other… and they found that they didn’t mind.

Eventually, they drifted apart though. Jazz and his friends finally found a way to create him a safe identity and eventually, he enrolled himself in college, deciding to take a break from Phantom for a while. Dick ventured out and created the Titans, even forging a new hero identity for himself as Nightwing. They slowly just stopped talking to one another after that. Not out of malice or anything, but just because they got busy. Life took over. It was only when a life was taken away, that Danny frantically tried to find out what happened to his friend.

But now that he’s here in front of him… He’s noticing the same things he’d seen from when they were on the streets. Dick had bags under his eyes like he was watching the candle burn at both ends and doing nothing to stop it. His clothes weren’t just baggy, they were unwashed. There was a faint toothpaste drop on his shirt that had been attempted to be rubbed off… but to no avail. His hair was shiny with unwashed grease and grime. And his face… He didn’t look like he was eating enough.

Like a truck had hit him, Danny suddenly found himself much less happy than he was before. Something was wrong with his friend. And if the crystae around the grave that Nightwing was supposedly buried were any indication… then… 

Danny straightened his stance subconsciously. It seems like he was due a serious conversation with the other.

“Can I come in? I’d rather not have this kind of conversation in the hall,” Danny asked awkwardly, looking around himself as if there was another person that he could see.

To Danny's concern, Dick’s body tensed up at the prospect of letting him in. He swore he saw Dick grimace at that for a split moment before a plastered-on smile was on his face. Nonetheless, Dick opened the door with much less bravado than he would’ve years ago and waved him in.

“Welcome to my abode,” he tried to joke, but the tone felt forced.

Danny didn’t understand why the other had looked that way until he walked through the doorway. While he may be no Kryptonian with insane super everything, he did have enhanced senses. And every single one of those senses went off like a bomb when he walked into the apartment. There were dirty dishes and clothes haphazardly left around collecting mold and mildew. He could see a portion of the Nightwing suit stuffed into a corner like Dick had tried to hide it from his sight. There were more than a few bottles of soda and coffee mugs spread across the room, some carrying a scent that Danny could live without. Then there was a shattered photo face down on the side of the room, glass still spread around the frame like a horrific halo. 

But the worst was probably the energy of liminal surrounding the whole place. The emotional energy within it was heavy, grief and desperation covering every inch. Everything just screamed pain pain PAIN PAIN-

Danny had to close his eyes, steeling himself against immediately answering the cry. It went against his very core to go against the cry for help but he knew he’d only make things worse if he dived straight in. Dick wasn’t one to accept help easily. He’d shown that multiple times in his various rants about Bruce’s attempts to help as Robin. Instead, he had to go about this differently.

“Man, you almost outrank me in the messy department,” Danny tried to joke instead.

He turned to look at Dick who finished locking his apartment back up against intruders. Hopefully, his eyes weren’t glowing from the intense cries his core was trying to fight against. Dick seemed to attempt to go with the jab, his smile not looking all there.

“I doubt that. I'm not the one who lost his phone and found it in his shin,” Dick replied, settling himself further into the apartment. 

Danny scoffed, waving his hand in the air like he could physically wipe away the comment. Slowly they started to migrate to where the couch was. There were blankets and pillows at the end like Dick would fall asleep there. Judging by the open case files on the table in front of it, he didn't sleep on purpose. 

“I actually keep it in my arm now. Much more convenient,” Danny winked, hopping on the couch and letting himself bounce on the spring underneath. “Although I do keep everything else in my haunt. I can make little portals now!”

Without further notice, Danny opened one of the said portals with his hands. As he hoped, although in any other circumstance, he normally wouldn't, a group of blob ghosts were near his things. A couple of them filed through the gap, chirping up at him. However, that sense of play quickly left them as they felt the energy around the place. Silently they flew away, off to do what they do best. 

Danny saw a twitch of a real smile for a second on Dicks face. Although it was quickly shut down like a sour memory. Like he was trying to escape it, Dick joined him on the couch, sitting a whole cushion away. 

“Should I be worried about them?” Dick motioned his chin towards the silent blobs making their way into his things.

Danny waved them off, still playing into his old impulsivity. He wasn't nearly as bad as he was as a teenager, but Dick didn't have to know that yet. Dick gave a skeptical look at him, watching as one of the blob ghosts swallowed one of the dirty cups whole.

“They're like bottom feeders in a fish tank. At most, you'll just find less dirt around. At the least… you might gain a cuddle buddy,” Danny hummed, watching the same blob from before sneeze and drop a perfectly polished cup back out.

At that, Danny could see Dick turn to look at him in his peripheral vision. Turning to join him in looking right at one another he could see Dick staring at him. Dick held a look on his face that Danny couldn’t uncover. His eyes wandered over Danny’s face like he was searching for something. But the rest remained perfectly blank. It reminded Danny of when they were still teens, trying to see if they could trust one another. Dick had given a similar look then before he'd nodded and sat down to talk. Hopefully this time it'll be no different. 

Although, Danny doesn't know how to feel when Dicks face shuts down a little. He can feel the exhaustion in the air. Somehow he feels like he just failed whatever Dick was searching for.

“Danny, why are you really here?” Dick asked finally.

The question was so out of the blue, and the answer so obvious. Danny couldn’t help the way his head tilted in confusion, not understanding why such a thing had to be asked. This wasn’t at all how he had planned for their conversation to go. He had wanted to keep things light so that the emotions wouldn’t make Dick clam up… or lash out. His next words need to be chosen carefully…

“Because I was concerned. One of my good friends just came back from death and I needed to make sure you were ok. Dying isn't an easy thing to process,” Danny spoke carefully, his own experience trickling into his mind.

The words seemed to make Dick even more defensive. It was exactly the thing Danny had been trying to avoid. But despite everything his efforts still led him to this moment. Dick had his guard up, his eyes glaring into Danny’s core.

“Well I'm alive,” Dick spoke with terseness, “so why are you still here?”

“Because I care about you,” Danny reiterated, his confusion turning over into concern. “Dick, you died. That type of thing sticks with you. I'm not about to leave you to deal with that alone.”

Dick scoffed. He readjusted himself on the couch, sliding a bit farther from Danny. At this point, he was almost leaning on the edge. The physical representation of the distance between them hurt more than Danny was willing to admit. He hadn’t had Dick run from him before.

“Ignoring me for years is one hell of a way to show it,” Dick bit back.

A wave of annoyance hit Danny from the comment, but he instead closed his eyes and ignored it. Dick used to do this constantly when they were young. He'd use a healing mental wound to pick at to bring the other person away from his own hurt. Except Dick made the mistake of using it too many times on Danny in the past. He was old enough now to stop and learn from what he was trying.

Letting out a breath of air, Danny looked up into Dicks eyes. He could feel the pain all around him. The wails of someone touched by death echo all around. This wasn't something he could let go. No matter how much Dick tries to push him away, he isn’t going to go anywhere.

“Dick, I'm not asking you to tell me what happened… or even how you came back. I would know more than anyone how painful it can be to relive those memories. I'm just asking for you to let me stay and help you. You're not okay.”

If Danny's words made an impact on Dick, he sure as hell didn't show it. He looked away from Danny’s eyes, instead staring at something far off. His movements seemed almost robotic. Like there was some kind of memory playing in his head that Danny couldn’t see.

“Whoever said I died? I went undercover Danny. Nothing happened. Nothing to talk about.” Dick spoke with a scarily devoid tone of voice, almost like he was reciting someone else.

Danny couldn’t stop the scoff from coming out of his mouth. Dick looked his way again, seeming to be surprised at the action. As if he could simply lie his way out of death. Danny tried the denial shtick. You can only tell yourself it was nothing for so long before you realize that not breathing in your sleep is probably a sign. 

“Dick I saw your grave. I don't know the details because I wasn't exactly invited, but I saw the crystae flowers blooming around the dirt. Those only bloom around memorials for the dead,” Danny explained carefully, watching as Dick looked more and more like he'd panic. “Even now I can feel death's touch on you. Your place is soaked in liminal energy… I can feel that you're in pain.”

Danny was a little hesitant to reveal that last bit but knew that Dick would pick up on it eventually. Especially with Danny sticking around, that liminality would only get stronger. That's just how ectoplasm is. It won't stick onto a healthy person unless they've already been exposed to it. Depending on how long Dick had been dead, it might be more attracted to him.

Although now Danny couldn’t help but feel awful about it as he saw Dick flounder. He at least took his time in coming to terms with his death, he should've known an emotionally repressed bat wouldn't be able to handle it all at once. Danny tried to reach out a hand, as something for Dick to physically hold onto to stay in the present. But in a moment of fear, Dick slapped it away. He jumped up from his spot on the couch, never looking at the same spot for more than a couple of seconds. 

“Dick I'm sor-” Danny tried to apologize but Dick started to do a panicked angry rambling right over him. 

“No! It doesn't count. I didn’t die. My heart only stopped for a couple of minutes. I was fine. Everything is fine!” He tried to reason to himself, his pacing taking a hysterical turn.

Danny winced at that. It doesn't matter how long you die. Ectoplasm doesn't care about that, only that you have some kind of exposure to it. Even in the first seconds of death you already create the energy for ectoplasm in the body. How much was created, and how much was in the air already, is what determines if you become a ghost. It's a natural part of life.

“Dick please,” Danny began again, but was stopped by Dicks piercing stare.

“I didn't die, Danny. I didn't die because that would mean he was right and I can't-” 

Dick let out a noise somewhere between a gasp for air and a dry sob. It tore at Danny's core to hear but considering how Dicks reaction to the last time he tried to reach out went, he stayed in place. One of the blob ghosts must have felt his pain, rushing over and chirping into Dicks chest. It caught the other off guard long enough to stop and take a few ragged breaths of air. The blob continued its chirping assault of cuddling into Dicks chest while the other refused to look at Danny. But in that moment Danny couldn’t have felt any more thankful for the blobs and didn't mind if Dick needed a moment. So they sat there for a moment, Dick sitting in his emotions and Danny waiting for him to calm down. 

The air was charged with a tone of sorrow. It was the kind that Danny was all too familiar with. It was the kind that left you feeling that there was no chance for your life to be happy again. The kind where everything felt like it had fallen apart all around you with no hope of it being repaired. It tore at Danny’s heart that Dick of all people was left to feel this way. Where were all the people that should be here supporting him? Where was his family in all of this? Surely Danny can’t be the only one to see the pain Dick is in.

“How…”

Danny looked up at Dick who seemed to be at a loss of what to say. He wasn’t looking up at him at all, only absentmindedly playing with the blob curled against his chest. 

“How did you get over it?” Dick spoke again, now looking up at Danny with an unsure gaze. “How can you just go on with your life without it constantly playing in the back of your head?”

Danny pursed his lips, knowing that his answer wasn’t one that Dick would like. Just at the action alone, he could see the little hope in the other's eyes die out. He once again turned his head to the blob ghost. With a gentle hand, Dick pets the back of the ghost's body.

“I’ve never gotten over my death. With help from my friends and sisters, I was able to accept it and heal from it… but I can never forget it,” Danny spoke solemnly.

He couldn’t help but notice the way Dicks petting movements momentarily paused at the mention of his support. It sent an alarm of concern through Danny. While he was here he couldn't believe that things could get so bad around here. There was just too much time in the layers of sadness and grime for this to be new. So why hasn't anyone tried to stop it and help? There was a disturbing painting being made before his eyes. For the sake of the heroes on this planet, he sure hopes his suspicion is wrong.

“But I promise you, Dick, that this is not the end. It might not seem like it, but things will get better,” Danny promised, something he didn’t take lightly. “I will be here to do everything I can to help you heal.”

Dick didn’t say anything back for a long time. He simply played with the blob on his chest, flicking its tail side to side in between his fingers. The blob certainly didn’t seem to mind, blubbering little chirps to itself. Neither did Danny, who could see that this was a bit too much at once for Dick. 

“Are you still retired?” Dick asked eventually, looking up at Danny with a begging look.

It was one that Danny could recognize. One that was asking for them to try and pretend that nothing was wrong. To give him time to break away from reality and think things over with himself. So Danny let the conversation lead off. It would just be more damaging than helpful to continue on this path. So, conceding to Dicks wordless pleas, Danny let it go.

“Technically. But I wouldn’t mind going back out again if it means I can work with the great Nightwing,” Danny smiled, hoping to bring back the light atmosphere of before.

It seemed to work if the small smile that Dick gave was any indication. Danny hadn’t realized how happy he would be to see a real, albeit small, smile from the other again. Giving a last pat on the blob ghost's head, Dick walked over to where half of the Nightwing suit was discarded.

“Then I hope you still have your spirit,” Dick quipped back, stepping away towards a hallway. “Cause I won’t be going easy on you old man.”

Danny scoffed at the old nickname, jumping off the couch in fake offense. Although it was much too late to say anything about it before Dick scampered down the hall. He could hear a door open and close, signaling Dick is putting his suit on. Danny doesn’t envy the suit that Dick has to put on. Who would’ve thought that putting on a skin-tight suit might take someone a bit?

Luckily Danny didn’t have to even lift a finger. Letting out a breath he let the cold of his core take over, feeling a rush of weightlessness hit him. Knowing that he still had plenty of time to wait for Dick, Danny turned and opened another temporary portal. This time he had opened it directly to his keep, spotting Fright Knight in the distance.

“Frighty,” Danny called into the portal, half laughing to himself as the said knight nearly jumped. “I need a favor from you.”

After years of beating up multiple ghosts, quite a few of the citizens of the realms held respect for Danny. Honestly, it was refreshing to be able to just talk with half of the ghosts he used to fight. While he still held fights with them, cause it’s a form of affection apparently, things had cooled off for the most part. 

Which means it allowed Danny to get to know a lot of them better. This is how he found out that Fright Knight was cursed to serve the king. Thankfully with a little help from Jazz studying the books in Ghost Writers library and a surprisingly life-or-death adventure, Danny freed the ghost. This led to Fright Knight giving his servitude to Danny… which kinda undermines the whole point of the adventure in the first place but it wasn’t Danny’s place to judge.

“What can I do you for, Sir Phantom?” Fright Knight asked, getting closer to the portal and standing guard right outside it.

Oh yeah, and had he forgotten to mention the nickname? Yeah, it bothered Danny too. Although he’s learned that there's not much he can do to change it.

“There are some mortals I’d like to keep an eye on. They are the vigilantes of Gotham,” Danny proposed, making it a suggestion even though he knows Fright Knight will just do anything he says anyway. “Could you look over them for me?”

Fright Knight gave a deep bow before stepping through the portal. His extremely tall frame still absolutely dwarfed Danny in size. Which means it was kinda funny to watch him step through a portal that was sized for Danny's height. He's just so used to making a portal no bigger than that that he hadn’t even considered it.

“I would be honored,” The ghost replied, to which Danny nodded with a thankful smile.

“Thank you Frighty. I’ll check in with you every once in a while,”

And with those last words, Fright Knight nodded and disappeared. He tended to be less on the wordy side anyway.

Was it smart to send someone to spy on the bats? Probably not. But chances are, Dick isn’t going to say anything. Unfortunately, Dick had a mentality that he had to deal with things that are hurting him on his own. Whether from a sense of guilt or fear of not being enough, Dick would rather lead himself into the deep end than call for help. So to figure out why he’s been left so hauntingly alone, Danny is going to have to investigate. Thankfully just him going ghost had already scrambled Dicks security cameras, so the entire conversation wouldn’t be noticed.

The sound of a door closing took Danny out of his thoughts. He turned to the opening of the hallway, feeling himself smile at Dick. It’s been a very long time since he’s seen Dick in costume. The last time he saw the Nightwing suit in person it had honest-to-god tassels. He’s honestly really glad that Dick had changed the costume since then. This new suit in front of him was much more sleek. 

As he nodded to himself he could see Dick raising an eyebrow at him. He stood much more relaxed than before, a smile that didn't look entirely fake on his face.

“At least you’ve gained some sense of style after all this time,” Danny hummed, finding delight in Dicks scandalized gasp.

“I thought you loved the old costume!” Dick said, trying and failing to smother his amusement with an upset face.

Danny shrugged and folded his legs underneath him. It felt so easy to use his powers like this again. While he wasn’t exactly shy to use his powers normally, his range of them was muted in human form. As he hovered in place, he tilted his head teasingly at the other.

“Sorry, I was so busy staring at your chest that I missed what you were wearing,”

Dicks off guard laughter was the best thing Danny had heard in years.