Baqa-baqa

Concept:

an AU where after Danny's parents find out the truth about his biology, they turn their weapons against him; affectively leaving him no choice but to run away. There was no longer a 'Daniel James Fenton'; a child long dead after he was killed via electrocution. He cuts contact with everyone— and I mean everyone; only the god of time knows where he is. He turns to Gotham to start a new life there; under the guise of 'Danyal Nightingale', a homeless kid in crime alley, under the protection of the sentient city herself.

Enter: Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was quite the enigma to him. The teen basically knew everything about self defense, but Bruce is rich rich; Danny can't really understand why he would need to be athletic as shit for "self defense" when he's pretty sure he could've just hire mercenary level bodyguards. But he doesn't pry on it too much; because Danny understands that somethings are better to not poke around at.

They both grew up. Danny still couldn't understand Bruce. They grew closer, yes; but Bruce would literally... disappear. Like— for long amounts of time. He would ask Alfred for his whereabouts, but the butler simply shook his head, insisting that Bruce would be fine.

And he was right, technically.

The (now pretty grown) man would always come back, even if he was battered and bruised. He would wave off his best friend's worries with "I'm fine"s and "stop worrying"s that just fueled his distaste about Bruce leaving.

And then Bruce left, again.

While he was slightly annoyed by Bruce's constant disappearance, he can't help but just sigh in resignation at the hard headed billionaire. Bruce will come back.... eventually, at least.

He was right; Bruce did come back.

But he didn't.

He couldn't.

He was trapped inside a neverending nightmare.

Because they found him.

Years pass by and his whole body felt numb, numb, numb. He's always either strapped inside a straight jacket in an empty room or torn open like a frog in biology class, on top of a surgery table. He doesn't remember how to speak, what he sounded like, what food tasted like— how it felt to move freely. Because all he could do over the past years (decade?) Is silently take the torture if simply existing.

On a good day, they would let him dream. He dreamt of talking, hyperfixating about stars and Greek mythology— he dreamt of playing tag and cooking messily in a kitchen; all with a boy and older man whose face he doesn't remember. On those days his life felt a little more bearable; like it gives him the motivation to just exist.

"... there's no way you're named after a bird."

"....ne. What's yours?"

"Danny is a nice name."

"Hey, wh— HEY! Get down from there!"

"Don't be such a worrywart. I'll see you soon, Danny."

".....Danny"

".....Danny!"

"Danny....?"

His dazed eyes weakly focused on the familiar voice calling his name; the sight of a dark figure by the lab door greets his line of sight.

He's strapped on the table; chest still wide open as the figure rushes over him. He could hear their heart rattling inside their ribcage and their heaving breaths.