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When they all convene at the cave, Alfred is silently wrapping Dick's knuckles. Damian hovers beside him. Tim and Barbara are hunched over the batcomputer, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he strides over.
"Report," Batman grunts. No one reacts.
"Report!"
"Hood pushed his panic button at 2:34 AM," Barbara says shortly, straightening.
The button had been a joke, mostly because Jason would never use it and everyone knew it.
"I patched into his comm at 2:35. This is what I heard initially." At her nod, Tim presses play. What occurs next is a garble. There is the sound of high winds, as if Hood is rushing through the air, even though the comms are designed to filter out any ambiance otherwise the Bats would never hear each other. Interspersed is a mixture of static punctuated by high, inhuman screeches of metal and something else unknown.
"This goes on," Barbara says after thirty long seconds, switching it off. "Red Hood failed to respond to any attempts at contact. I dispatched Nightwing to Hood's location at 2:36 AM. He was approximately two miles away." She pulls up a GPS map of their respective locations, their beacons blinking.
"At 2:41 AM, Red Hood's comm goes off, as does his GPS," Barbara says, swallowing softly as the red beacon indicating Jason disappears. "Nightwing arrives at 2:42 AM."
Dick doesn't say anything, head hanging low as he grips the metal table he sits on. Damian glances between the two of them, expression flat but fists clenched.
"Nightwing, report."
"..."
"Scene was empty, B," Tim speaks up. "No trace of Hood, no sign of a struggle. No cameras in the alley. We've been checking the ones nearby but so far there's no sign of anyone but Hood heading in that direction...and no one, Hood included, caught in the cams heading out, not within that time frame."
"So he's still in the area," Batman concludes. "The local buildings?"
"All the entrances have cameras, which showed no evidence of Hood nor any evidence of being tampered with," Barbara says. "Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin canvased within a half mile radius to check for any signs of disturbances in any of the windows or rooftops but found no evidence to support Hood being taken. A scan confirmed several serial offenders, but when interviewed and searched there was no sign of Hood. Several in the area reported an unusual quiet for Crime Alley."
Batman forces the next question out. "Did you check the dumpsters?"
"Yes," Nightwing grits out. "Empty."
Barbara clears her throat. "I have attempted to reconnect to Jason's GPS and comm as well as restart both remotely but there's no signal at all. The thing is, when there's a disruption like that it usually leaves some sort of sign" she pulls up the audio waves, pointing at the end where the spikes conform into a straight line that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. Upon playing, the noise from before plays before going abruptly silent. "But there is no large spike, this is clean. It just ends. His GPS is much the same. It's not off, it's just gone."
"I know you don't like to hypothesize this early on, B, but we think this involves a meta," Tim says, rewinding the audio. "We've been running the audio from Jason's comm through different filters, playing with the levels and isolating what we can and, well, take a listen--"
The screeching drops to a sort of muffle and in the background, distantly, they can hear bits of Jason's voice.
"No, I'm not---"
"--don't need--"
"get AWAY from--"
a particularly desperate yell that makes Tim flinch, "I am NOT--!"
and almost a whimper that makes Batman's blood run cold, "please..."
And then, unfairly clear even through the faint garble, Jason says "I don't have a choice, do I."
And a minute later, quietly: "Ok."
The audio cuts off.
The defeat in Jason's last words is palpable, and fundamentally wrong. Jason has never sounded defeated a day in his life, and no one knows how to process Red Hood all but giving his hands over for the cuffs. Nightwing pushes himself off the table.
"I'm going back out there," he growls. No one tries to stop him as he stalks out the cave, not even Alfred.
"I will accompany Nightwing, make sure he does not punch any more walls." Damian says, nodding tightly.
"B?" Barbara asks.
"Keep working on it. See if you can identify what could be making those noises if Hood was standing still in an alley," Batman says, walking towards the zeta tube. "I'm going to make a few calls."
I need a fic where Danny’s the ghost king who moved to Gotham bcs of a bad reveal with his parents or for job opportunities or whatever and Gotham’s the only place with enough ectoplasm to sustain him.
Anyways, Joker has died and brought back to life more time than is healthy tbh and is def somewhat liminal.
Danny knows this, and he also knows that as Ghost King he can command spirits or liminal to do something and they have to do it.
So when Joker breaks out of Arkham and kidnaps Tim Drake (cuz why not) and is recording live, Danny Fenton (not Phantom) just strolls into the warehouse they’re in with a rolled up newspaper in one hand and smacks the Joker on the top of his head.
“Get back to your cell in Arkham, Jack, let the poor guy go,”
Danny refuses to call him “Joker” that’s a stupid ass name—at least Vlad was creative!
To everyone’s shock, Joker’s face just scrunches up angrily but eventually unties Tim Drake and then marches himself back to Arkham.
This happens every time he breaks out.
Joker plans to release his laughing gas?
“Jack, clean up this mess and go back to your cell,”
Kidnaps another Wayne kid?
“Leave the kids alone, Napier, go turn yourself into Gordon,”
He kidnaps Bruce Wayne?
“Will you stop the kidnapping, Jack? Go back to Arkham,”
And every damn time Danny just needs to swat him on the head with a newspaper and he does it.
Every. Single. Time.
Eventually Batman corners Danny, trying to figure out who he is and why the hell the Joker listens to him
Danny just shrugs and goes, “Have you tried hitting him over the head with a rolled up newspaper? It’s worked for me so far,”
It gets even better when Danny catches Joker escaping Arkham and makes him go to Crime Alley to apologize to the Red Hood for murdering him and even made him say “robin is magical”
Batman is confused. Gotham is amused. Joker is annoyed. Jason’s in love. The rogues are terrified.
And Danny?
Danny sends a message to Mr Lancer to thank him for the idea of hitting entities with a rolled up newspaper (I.e box ghost)
Mr Lancer has never been prouder of a student before.
"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.
"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.
Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.
Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.
"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".
"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.
"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.
"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."
"No, I suppose you didn't."
"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"
Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."
"What do you—"
"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"
"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."
Jack's face falls.
"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."
"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"
"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"
"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.
"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.
"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."
Danny glances at Vlad.
"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.
--
The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.
"You should've told me," Danny growls.
"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"
Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.
"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."
Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.
"Which is?" Danny asks.
"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."
"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."
"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."
"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"
"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."
"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.
"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"
"Jesus, Vlad,"
"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."
"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"
Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"
"What are you talking about?"
"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."
With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.
"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.
Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.
"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."
Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.
"He won't."
"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."
"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.
"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"
"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."
"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"
--
"You're going to leave my family alone."
"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.
"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."
"Danny...why don't you come inside?"
Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."
Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.
"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."
"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."
"Danny..."
"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."
"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.
"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."
"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.
"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"
"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."
Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.
"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"
"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."
"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"
"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.
"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"
"Danny. I..."
"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."
"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."
"Overstepping already."
"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."
"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.
Ring!
Ring!
"Hello?"
"It's done."
"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."
Not all glowing green liquid is ectoplasm… but it could be
In this case? I’m talking about the toxic chemicals that Jack Napier fell into that turned him into the Joker, that turned him into a ghost. He died and since it was Batman who caused him to slip he blames him for his death. So now he is obsessed with haunting his murderer and making him suffer.
After too many years Danny has finally managed to figure out the portal situation so that only benevolent ghosts can come through- something about enlisting the help of dead TSA agents and boarder officers? But now he has to round up all the problematic realms ghosts made by the ectoplasm his parents sold worldwide as a power source.
And his first stop? Gotham. That city jumped on using ecto-energy before all the rest, before proper safety measures and protocols for handling ectoplasm were developed and put in place. Probably something to do with all the corruption and greed- regardless. Gotham is a cesspit of ectoplasmic pollution, he’d be surprised if half their rogues weren’t ghosts or ghostly in some way.
So Danny does some research- he is far from the clueless kid he used to be just reacting to threats as they come. He’s grown to know that knowing a ghost’s obsession is the best way to trap them, and Joker is a wiley ghost. Preparation is key. Danny finds out about Joker and his obsession with making Batman pay…
And then he meets Red Hood, the furious young revenant Joker unintentionally created in his own image, obsessed with making Batman pay…
Sheesh. The poor kid even took on one of Joker’s old aliases…
Big Oof. Danny has some hard news to break to the guy. How exactly do you tell someone “Hey, so the reason you came back to life is because your murderer is a ghost who accidentally infected you with his ghost juices as he killed you… and now you’ve got some of his obsession nudging your thoughts and actions. Get a better hobby and maybe you can replace his parasitic obsession with one of your own.”
Jason is not gonna take this well. He’s gonna hear “you’re acting just like the Joker” and go fucking ballistic.
Welp. At least Danny is immune to bullets. This is gonna take a while.
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Danny, de-age to a seven-year-old: Hello. Would you care for a shoe shine?
Bruce: ....Yes, of course. How much?
Danny: Oh, whatever you can spare. *setting down a portable shining bench* Please put your feet here.
Bruce: Of course. Have you been doing this long?
Danny: a couple of weeks. I'm getting really good at it.
Bruce: You are. These look brand new. *hands him a $ 100 bill*
Danny: Wow! Thank you!
Bruce: Of course. Do you have a safe place to sleep?
Danny: Nope.
Bruce: .....would you like one?
Danny: Sure!
Bruce: Really?
Danny: Yeah, if you're offering!
Bruce: Its never been this easy before....somethings off. Aren't you the less bit wary of me?
Danny: Nah, I can sense people's intentions. You're not a creep trying to get a kid to a second location. You just want to give me a safe place off the streets.
Bruce: .....Are you a Meta?
Danny: I don't belive in organized religion.
Bruce: That's not....you know what, nevermind. Have you had something to eat?
Danny: I found a half finished donut in the trash earlier.
Bruce: Oh. No. Let's get you some dinner.
Danny: I'm buying! *waving money Bruce gave him* I had a good day of work!
Phantom: *who was watching the chaos from the ceiling with heavy scrutiny. tilts his head in question at Wonder Woman.*
Wonder Woman: If you would be so kind as to end this? *gestures to the arguing heros*
Phantom, smirking: Of course Wonder Woman, it would be my pleasure! *eyes glow brighter as ectoplasm contorts into chains around him, the chains shoot out, grabs each Justice League member, and yanks them back to their seats, keeping them there no mater how much they struggle*
Green Lantern: Hey what give-
Wonder Woman: Silence! You have been arguing like children for an hour!
Phantom, snorting: Please don't insult my youngest living descendants, they never argue in such a way.
Wonder Woman: Hmm, right you are, even children are better behaved!
Danny had done something wrong. He’d fucked up enough that Diana had to actually punish him. A rare situation considering that Danny, a hero and one who’s worked solo for years, rarely made mistakes big enough to deserve punishment or went against Diana. From the moment she’d rescued him from Jack and Maddie’s lab he’d been a total mama’s boy. Still, it’d happened and now Diana had to act as a proper parent and punish him for it.
Now then, how do Bruce and Clark do this? “You are grounded,” the tone she’d said this with made it clear that there was no way around it.
“But what about my hero work?” It wasn’t a well known fact outside the hero community, and even then it still wasn’t well known, but Danny actually needed to be a hero. He’s a guardian spirit. While his obsession is space he also needs to make sure people are safe.
“Other than work,” Diana agreed easily. She wasn’t about to deny her boy one of his base needs, as confusing as it was at first for her to understand that heroism is a need for him. “And no TV,” she tacked on mainly because it didn’t seem like a punishment so far.
Danny sheepishly mentioned with a shrug, “My TV’s broken.” Ah. Right. It had been broken by one of her boy’s rouges. The hunter. Skulker she thinks Danny called him. The hunter should hope she never got her hands on him or he’d learn she’s not nearly as forgiving as her son is.
“Then no computer,” she pivoted. It made sense to her. He used it a lot to play games with his friends back in Amity Park.
“I need the computer for school,” Danny once again corrected her. She’d forgotten that too. Her boy had asked to go to school online so he wouldn’t be beholden to the stringent schedules of a typical education. Ever since he’d started going to school online his grades had soared and Diana couldn’t be prouder of him. He’d always diminished his intelligence, comparing himself to his elder sister, and it had only gotten worse since his partial death at the hands of his parents negligence. The ghosts her boy fought at all hours of the day and night made it all but impossible for him to complete a school day unimpeded or to finish his homework without it being damaged. Diana had made it a mission of hers to help her boy see himself for the amazing young man that he is.
“Then uh,” she was really grasping at straws here. She couldn’t take his TV away since it’s broken, he needed his computer for school, and she couldn’t ground him from his obsessions without hurting him. What would Bruce do? Wait, that’s it! “No Cassandra.”
The girl in question popped her head out of the vent above and slightly behind Danny with a cry of “What?!” Diana was woman enough to admit that yes, she did startle. Both at the girl’s presence since she hadn’t had even known she was in the state but also because of the girl using her voice. She hadn’t thought it was one of the girl’s vocal days. Still though, considering who it was who startled her she wasn’t too embarrassed by that fact. Cassandra was the stealthiest of Bruce’s brood, including the man himself.
Simultaneously Danny interjected incredulously, “No Cass?!”
“No Cass!” She repeated herself. She was proud of herself for having picked and appropriate punishment even as both teens looked crestfallen.
Danny: Hi, I made the horrible mistake of existing in the same environment as you and calling you "really pretty" where my friends could hear, and they forced me to come bother you. Would you mind looking vaguely amused by me for 5 minutes? Then as soon as they stop watching us I'll make a break for it.
"Hi, Clark," he swallowed, smiling, even though he was aware that his heartbeat was betraying his anxiety. There was no worse person he could meet first. It would have been better to find Bruce in the cave, perhaps while he was still working on a case, irritated and tired. Even Alfred would have been better. Alfred might have understood.
But Clark - and God, how strange to think that he was practically living in Gotham now, now that things between him and Bruce were official - was not the type to offer him any loopholes.
“Uhm…so…have you received my message? You know, the one in which..."
“The one where you announced your return without specifying whether you would come to Gotham or talk about Bruce?" Clark ended up for him, with the tone carefully neutral, as well as his face, a mask of neutrality that didn't help him understand what was going through his mind,"Yes, Richard. We received it."
No it's good to see you, Dick, or Are you hungry? Alfred just made pancakes.
Clark was pissed.
(Dick returns to the Manor after yet another violent quarrel with Bruce, ready to return to things as usual. But after a year, Clark won't make it easy for him.)
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“Superman hates me,” Jason exhaled from the safety of the cave, and both Dick and Alfred stared at him.
“What?”
“Superman, Big Blue, Kal El, the one who crawls into Bruce's bed every night…that guy hates me.”
Dick made a disgusted face, “Jason, what the hell. How did you even think that?”
“Come on, did you see the way he looked at me just now? If it isn't hate, he definitely doesn't like me…”
“Oh no, I didn't mean that,” the older man said nonchalantly, “It's true that Clark doesn't like you, but I really don't want to know what those two do when they're alone.”
(After all the shit Jason did to his father, is he really surprised that Bruce's boyfriend doesn't trust him? What a shock.)
he hasn't consciously realized it yet, but bruce is waiting for someone to save him from the pervasive touches he endures as Brucie at galas and in the public eye. he knows he cannot exert his own autonomy himself, he knows he must dutifully allow the touch even as it whittles him down from a person living to a machine performing. but, perhaps, someone will see the almost (intentionally almost) imperceptible tightening to his eyes, the tension in his back, the exhaustion when he's come, the scrubbed-raw pink of his skin after he showers...
maybe, if someone else notices, they'll tell him he doesn't need to endure the hands on his chest and back and thighs and ass. they'll tell him gotham doesn't need him to smile through the discomfort, to invite more touches against his own will. they'll tell him it wouldn't matter even if gotham did need that, because he is free to say no. maybe, please, will someone notice?
but he's raised a family of detectives, and his best friends are an investigative journalist and a princess who sees the truth between the lines of reality. and they've seen, they must have seen, but if these people who are so much better than bruce himself, so kind and good, have not excused bruce from this duty, then maybe it is the right thing to do, to just deal with it.
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Bruce (in child body): Okay, I can work with this. Sure I'm on my own but, when am I not?
(Everytime he looks in a mirror he hears 2 gunshots.)
Child!Bruce (in adult body): Holy shit, everything hurts. This guy needs to chillll, get a break man. Why are most of your bones metal? And your chronic backpainnnn!? What the hell is this migraine, why are you still expected to function-
But he was so small, his body wasn't trained. He was so scrawny, and frankly tiny for his age.
A little switch, nothing to worry about.
It's just.. his younger self can't really do anything he wants to. He can't reach all the places, he can't run as fast as he wants to.
Danm his past self.
He can figure this out, he's unsure on how long the spell lasts or if it dissapears on it's own in general.
And... he'd have to do it on his own. Because he knows danm well no one will believe him. Especially not Alfred, he's not even sure if he's in the manor right now.
He doesn't have anything. Not the batcave, not any weapons, not any form of communication. He's just wandering along the hallways of the manor.
And he freezes as someone walks up to him—nevermind it's just his reflection, his own 2 eyes staring back.
BAM, BAM
He can see the moment his eyes go wide, the way his body locks up before old (new?) memories wash over him.
He can hear pearls scatter on the floor, followed by another thud. He sees a pair of shoes running away as he crashes into the ground screaming at his parents to get up.
As the memory evaporates he can see his reflection breathing heavy, hands forming cramped fists.
Right. He had forgotten that happened the first few months.
Bruce had figured out he was in another body the moment it happend because either he grew in a matter of seconds or he was going insane.
Also he was hit in the face with a headache like one he hadn't had in years.
And his back hurt like a bitch.
Aswell as his abdomen, he's not sure what happened there but it hurts.
"Father?" A voice echoed of the walls of.. the cave? What—where was he?
Wait.
Father?
His knees buckled and he colapsed on one knee, still holding his head in hopes it would lighten the headache. The movement did not help his backpain but that was of lesser concern.
Someone had called him father.
Him. A father.
That wasn't—he didn't—
...
He didn't want kids. He couldn't have kids. He wasn't going to have kids. He couldn't start a family after killing his own?
It was just a mistake. That's all. A mistake. Like him, like the alley
He lifts himself upright again and—
Fuck, holyyy shit, mother of & Jesus Christ himself. Why did his abdomen hurt this much. What did this guy do?
Dick shouldn't be so nervous about being at the Manor. He shouldn't. It was his home, too (once.) It was his home...well, Bruce's home.
He was always welcome, Bruce had told him so, in his own way, and even if it wasn't always clear, he'd always made sure Dick was comfortable when he came to visit.
There was always a room for him.
So, he shouldn't be nervous about a visit, right?
Well, the principle was sound, but faced with Clark's cold, unimpressed look, all his good intentions went out the window, and he felt like he was twelve again.
"Hi, Clark," he swallowed, smiling, even though he was aware that his heartbeat was betraying his anxiety.
"Richard," the Kryptonian greeted him, sipping his coffee, watching him like a hawk. "What do you need?"
Nothing's it's good to see yoi, Dick, or Did you just finish patrol and want breakfast? Alfred made pancakes.
The worst part, though, was that Clark wasn't smiling. And a Superman who wasn't smiling should already be considered one of the signs of Raven's father's arrival in this dimension.
"Nothing, I just wanted to check on everyone... you know, I haven't been here in a while and..."
"You haven't been here in a year, Richard," Clark lowered his cup to the table, trying not to break it, but Dick noticed the cracks in the cup. "I wouldn't call that just not coming for a while. You actively ignored Bruce's calls while answering the others', and left for a mission to Tamaran without even telling the League. Months without any information, not even the Lanterns could tell us what you were doing. And now you come here, like nothing happened?"
"Look, I know how it looks..."
"No, you don't seem to," the Kryptonian said icily. "And that's kind of your problem, isn't it? You act without thinking about the consequences, and often you don't even have to face them, luckily for you. But you think I'm going to let you just pretend nothing happened, show up as if nothing happened? Pretending you care about Bruce?"
"I care about Bruce," the boy interjected, stopping smiling, "He's...he's important to me, okay?"
"So important that you ignore his calls, Richard? So important that you mock him in front of the League? So important that you tell him you think he's the real alien among us? Really, Richard?"
Dick felt the tension rise, he gasped, "I..."
"If that's how you show someone is important to you, I don't want to imagine what you'd do if you hated them. Wait, I know. I've seen it every day since you became Nightwing."
"I don't hate Bruce," he spat, the mere suggestion of it being offensive. But Clark scoffed, "Of course, I only got confused by the...ah, right...three hundred and sixteen times you told him that, Richard. Silly me, how could I ever think you hate him?"
"You know I didn't mean it, Bruce made me angry..."
"He made you angry, but your reactions have always been disproportionate in the face of offense."
"Disproportionate? He took Robin away from me, he kicked me out of the house, he never treated me as an equal, to him I'm still a child..."
"You're acting like a child," Clark cut short the tirade, "It's true, he took Robin away from you, after Two Face had you on the brink of death. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. And he didn't kick you out of the house, you're the one who left, because you thought you only had a place in his life as Robin, because you didn't think you could simply be his son. And he treats you as an equal, but he also treats you like his family, only you can't stand it. He pampers you too much, doesn't he? He wants to keep you safe. How dare he? He's the worst person ever! No matter what he does for you, all the compromises, all his trying to make amends even when he shouldn't. It's never enough for you."
The guilt began to creep back up, gnawing at him from the inside. Yes, he knew he'd made a mistake.
Fuck, Roy had called him an asshole, and Roy was usually the one to bash Batman.
But after meeting Kory's parents, her father's coldness, his refusal to acknowledge his mistakes...needless to say, it helped put a lot of perspective. Bruce wasn't a perfect parent.
But he'd die before he'd let one of them be enslaved.
Dick slumped his shoulders. He had nothing else to say in his defence. "You can't stop me from seeing him. He wouldn't let you."
Clark laughed then, but it was a dry, unpleasant laugh. "Bold of you to assume he, or even Damian, wants to see you. Why do you think I'm the only one here, Richard?"
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