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Butttttt here goes....

"Well... Did you have fun?" Danny asked, his aurora borealis crown shifting its colors above his head as his green eyes stared at the mass of people surrounding the casket of Alfred Pennyworth, many crying silently or weeping, not a single eye was dry.

"Oh very much so. Being put in a solid shell was much more fun this time around..." Came the gentle voice of the ghost floating next to him, his eyes staying on the small group that were the ones sobbing or trying not to sob the hardest. He sighed gently and closed his blue eyes before opening them again as they changed to deep red and his voice changed "A shame all good things must come to end my King, but time waits for no one... Not even for its personified self."

Danny stared as the once ghost form of Alfred Pennyworth shifted back into its true form of Clockwork, the Ancient of Time. He chuckled lightly before saying "Hey at least this time you didn't go crazy and eat your kid..."

"Oh hush, must you bring up that embarrassing memory." Clockwork snapped back and swiped his staff towards his snickering King. "And I only went crazy for two reasons, one it was necessary for me to do so in order to actually start this Universe's timeline and two being constrained into a physical shell but having so much access to my powers drove me insane."

"I'm just saying CW. You could have eaten Bruce... I saw some of the bs he pulled. And that was before the whole Batman thing."

Project Hail Mary has given me some serious brain worms here are me references:

The fox cardigan

The I Had Potential shirt

Cujo's bandana is inspired by Rocky

Red converse- ish

The pants are supposed to be vaguely astronaut-y like Grace's ones at the end of the movie

The aroace in aerospace joke, if you squint

It put Jason immediately on edge, his hand on his gun as he looked around for the source; not wary of the crying child so much as their caretaker. His search brought him to the grungy, frigid alley behind the warehouse and a singularly baffling sight.

There was a baby in a box.

Perhaps a year old, face screwed up beneath dark locks, their little arms struggling valiantly against the blanket they'd been wrapped in. Jason scanned his surroundings, but the alley remained steadfastly empty save for its single noisy occupant. Considering Jason had chosen this spot in particular for his recent activities because it was one of the most deserted parts of Gotham he could find, the situation became nauseatingly clear; someone had abandoned this baby to die alone in the cold.

Jason's body moved without conscious thought. No sooner had he reached his conclusion, the baby was up and in his arms, their icy face pressed against Jason's neck, instinctively seeking the warmth. Jason found himself crooning soothing nonsense as he rubbed his gloved hands over the baby's back, trying to warm them up as much as he could. The wailing tapered off to miserable whimpers.

Now Jason was standing in an alley holding a baby. No parents in sight, not that Jason would actually give them back the baby they abandoned to die. There were a handful of institutions Jason could drop them off at, but knowing what he did about Gotham's abysmal foster care system made him hesitant.

A tiny hand fisted in the collar of his shirt. He looked down at the baby in his arms, their tiny face screwed up and red from crying, the name Dante stitched along the edge of the blanket that had been the only thing between him and the freezing night air for who knows how long. Jason decided to put the long-term on the back burner and focus on making sure the poor kid actually survived his bout of exposure.

The first aid kit in his car had a triangle bandage that made a serviceable baby sling, allowing him to strap the kid to his chest and leave his hands free. He ended up removing his chest armour and half closing his jacket over the sling to provide as much warmth as possible.

His first stop was the nearest 24 hour convenience store. To the clerk's credit, her response to the heavily armed, helmeted man buying formula and diapers for the baby strapped to his chest at 4am was to blink and then ask if he wanted baby bottles too.

Jason made it all the way back to his safehouse and had the baby boy freshly diapered and suckling away at some formula before he remembered he'd left his duffle bag full of heads back at the warehouse.

"Fuck." He glared softly down at the bundle in his arms. Dante stared back with guileless blue eyes. "Do you have any idea how many of my plans you just torpedoed, you little shit?"

Dante just continued to suckle away obliviously. Jason could feel his scowl melting away into a soft smile.

"You're lucky you're adorable."

In the scramble to both get together more than the barest essentials for a baby and rearrange all his grand plans now that the dramatic duffle bag revel was off the table, Jason would claim that he simply hadn't had the time to find a suitable long-term home for Dante. The truth was that whenever the thought crossed his mind to make such a plan, the idea of handing the kid over filled him with such visceral upset that he immediately found something to do to take his mind off it.

Without his grand entrance onto Gotham's criminal stage, Jason decided to go a more subtle route. He used the rumour mill to his advantage, so it was supposed but never proven that Red Hood was responsible for the heads found by the GCPD. He was less showy and more shadowy than previously planned, making problems disappear but allowing whispers of his involvement to permeate.

It was enough to build up the reputation he wanted, but also painted less of a target on his back, which eased some of his worries over Dante. Before he'd found and strenuously vetted some trustworthy babysitters, he'd had no choice but to bring the kid along on a handful of meetings. Nothing too dangerous, just meetings with potential recruits or informants, but more people than he'd like now knew that the up and coming crime lord had a baby in his care.

Bizarrely, showing up to meet recruits with a baby babbling in his arms actually seemed to help his recruitment drive. Crime Alley had seen plenty of thugs come along trying to carve up a slice of the pie for themselves through violence and intimidation, but baby Dante's presence painted Red Hood as a father willing to do whatever it took to make the Alley better for his kid. It gave him an understandable motive for both his altruism and his violent response to any threat to the Alley. It made him a more trustworthy employer than most of the other less than legal options, and as a result, quite a few people were willing to jump ship to join him.

He may have lost some intimidation points against the big players, but he had the Alley's trust, and that was worth more in the long run. His overall plans and goals still remained the same, were still achievable, even if he'd had to adjust his methods.

Well, until the moment Jason finally realized he'd stumbled his way into fatherhood, and all the consequences that came with it.

It happened on one inauspicious Tuesday evening as Jason put Dante down to bed.

"Night-night, Dan-dan," he murmured, pressing a kiss into his sleeping baby's soft hair, "'love you, kiddo."

The words slipped out thoughtlessly, and Jason couldn't deny that they were one hundred percent true. He went through the rest of the routine mechanically, tucking in the blankets and checking the baby monitor was functional before leaving the room in a haze and planting himself on the couch before his knees gave out.

"I'm a fucking dad."

Jason had a baby. He was barely out of childhood himself and he had a baby, a tiny human that was entirely reliant on him and so achingly vulnerable.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Jason had a baby and he'd been planning on kicking a Black Mask-shaped hornet's nest until the Joker fell out. What the fuck was wrong with him? All it would take was the littlest thing to go wrong and Black Mask would be gunning for him and his baby, potentially with his worst fucking nightmare in tow. Jason wanted to smack himself for being so stupid, for almost putting Dante in that kind of danger.

The very idea of the Joker existing anywhere near Dante made Jason almost blind with rage. In that moment, the shattered pieces of all his plans rearranged in his mind into a crystal clear picture and he knew what he had to do.

Because of course the gang Tim had been tracking had decided to try and ambush Red Hood. And of course Hood happened to have his kid on him when they jumped him. So of course Tim dived in without hesitation, not willing to risk the kid getting hurt. Only for his efforts to be immediately hindered by Hood shoving the kid into Tim's arms so his own were free to take down his attackers with extreme prejudice.

"Wahbah!" Was shrieked gleefully into his ear, sticky little fingers doing their best to try and grab his domino as Tim moved the kid to one arm so he could wield his Bo staff one handed. He backed away from the fight until he could safely trade his staff for his grapple and zipped up to the nearest roof, a toddler's giddy giggles in his ear the whole way up.

"Fwy! Fwy!" the little tyke demanded excitedly once they were safely on the roof, a big grin on his adorable face.

"Sorry, Baby Hood, pretty sure your dad'd kill me if I swung off with you."

Tim peered over the side of the roof as he answered. Hood had already swiftly disarmed all of his assailants when the ambush started, but with his kid out of the firing line he was really letting loose. Tim put a hand over the kid's eyes, much to his annoyance, and stepped back from the edge. Kid didn't need to see that, and Tim wasn't particularly inclined to argue for mercy for the kind of people who'd threaten a kid to get at their parent.

"Wahbin." Baby Hood's little hands were now digging into the R emblem on Tim's chest, trying to pry it off for a closer look.

"That's right, I'm Robin." Tim couldn't help but smile down at the kid. He really was too cute, with his big blue eyes, tousled black hair and chubby cheeks, all wrapped up warm in a tiny red hoodie.

"Wahbin fwy?" The kid asked again hopefully, making Tim chuckle.

"Sorry Baby Hood, this Robin is grounded 'til your dad is done down there. You, on the other hand…"

Tim gripped the kid tight, held him a little out from his body and spun in a quick circle. He was rewarded with a squeal of delight. At the kid's insistence, he kept spinning, giggling along with his young charge.

"He's gonna puke if you keep that up."

Tim stubbornly tamped down on the startle reflex the unexpected voice invoked. Baby Hood wasn't pleased that he'd stopped spinning, but Tim refused to shift his focus back to his charge no matter his pouting and whining.

Red Hood was something of an unknown. He was a crime lord, yet his ultimate goals seemed largely altruistic, if mostly focused on Crime Alley. His file in the batcomputer essentially stated he was considered the lesser of two evils and only to be engaged if he posed an active threat. That said, the file itself was sparse beyond his gang's activities; very little was actually known about him, and even Baby Hood's existence had just been a rumour until Tim had seen him with his own eyes.

"You gonna give him back, Replacement?" The tone was going for light, but Tim could hear the threat beneath it plain as day.

"I dunno, he's pretty cute," he replied, booping the kid on the nose to make him giggle, "we could put him in a tiny Robin outfit and make him our masco-"

"Over my dead body!"

Tim was taken back by the vehemence in Hood's response and he hastily handed the kid back when it looked like Hood was about to snatch him back regardless. Baby Hood seemed entirely unaware of the tension, just happily snuggling up to his dad.

"I was just kidding!" he assured him, hands out like he was calming a wild animal, "I'd never actually, like, steal your kid."

"Threaten him again and I'll make what happened to the last Robin look like mercy."

Tim bristled a little at that. Jason and his fate were something of a touchy subject amongst the Gotham vigilantes and to hear it referred to so flippantly felt like a slap in the face. Tim might not have known the guy personally, but he'd spent the last two years trying to live up to his legacy.

"I get that you're pissed," he snapped back, "but don't joke about what happened to Robin. He died trying to protect people and he deserves a little respect."

Red Hood went very still.

"Respect? Is that what you call putting on a dead kid's uniform before he's even cold?"

Tim scowled.

"I call it trying to honour his legacy, actually," he answered firmly, "but respect works too."

Hood seemed somewhat taken back by his answer.

"You think that's really worth risking your life?"

The question sounded honestly curious, though it was hard to tell with Hood's entire face obscured. Tim wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten from protecting a kid to defending his decision to take up vigilantism. There were a lot of reasons, most of them intertwined, and none of which he owed to this random gang leader.

"Gotham is worth it," Tim decided on, chin lifted, daring Hood to judge him.

Hood shook his head sadly. "And they say you're the smart one. Word of advice? Get out while you can. You are too young and too smart to die as just another soldier in Batman's war. Sooner or later, someone's gonna come along and clip your wings."

Tim scoffed. "I don't do this for Batman. This is my home, Hood. You, of all people, should know that in Gotham, I'm in just as much danger out of this suit as I am in it. So if I can do something to make it better, I will. Baby Hood and all the other kids in this city deserve for someone to at least try. It's what Batman does, it's what Robin did, it's what I'm gonna do and none of your ominous warnings are gonna stop me."

Silence followed Tim's rebuttal, broken only by soft baby babble from Baby Hood. If Tim had to guess, Red Hood seemed pensive. Or maybe he just hoped that Hood was actually listening to what he had to say.

"...did you just call my kid Baby Hood?"

"I don't know his name! You didn't exactly stop for introductions when you threw him at me!"

A sound Tim assumed was a chuckle crackled through Hood's helmet. He pulled up the hood on Baby Hood's hoodie, only for the toddler to shout 'no!' and yank it back down with an adorable scowl.

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna stick." He looked back at Tim. "You're stubborn, Replacement, I'll give you that. I appreciate you watching the kid, but stay the fuck out of Crime Alley-"

"Language."

"-from now on. You wanna throw yourself to the lions, fine, but not on my turf."

Tim frowned. "But what if I have a case that brings me here?"

"Then you don't have a case. Look, cape or not, you're a kid, and on my turf, no one fucks with kids. You start sticking your nose around the Alley, people are gonna retaliate, and then I'm gonna have to hand out a buncha' bullets. You want those lives on your head?"

"What? That's fucked up to put that on me!"

"Then stay out of Crime Alley. This is your one warning." Apparently done with Tim, Red Hood turned and approached the edge of the roof. "Oh, and if you try and track us? I'll clip your wings myself."

With that, he grappled away, Baby Hood's joyous squeal echoing behind him. Normally, Tim might have tried to tail him, but he wasn't willing to test the veracity of Hood's threat. Instead, he sighed and headed towards where he parked his bike, intending to return to the cave.

He had a few things to add to Hood's file.

Jason pulled Dan away from the light for the fifth time in three minutes. The kid was apparently determined to try and climb it, but Jason knew from first hand experience just how hot that thing could get. At least trying to distract Dan away from the light was helping to distract Jason from what he was here to do.

The replacement's words had been rattling around his head ever since their unexpected run-in.

Tim Drake had been far from the obedient little soldier Jason had expected. He'd actually scoffed at the idea that anything he did was for Batman, and in the next breath had Jason beginning to question some of his own motives.

Jason had personally seen to it that the Joker was dead. His crew had successfully claimed the entirety of Park Row as well as most of it's bordering neighbourhoods. His last operation had wiped Black Mask off the board entirely. Jason was actually, tangibly, succeeding in making Crime Alley a better place.

So why was he fighting the guy trying to do the same thing for all of Gotham?

Jason didn't agree with Bruce's methods and Bruce almost definitely wouldn't agree with his. But the end goal was the same and they were both trying in the ways they thought were best.

Baby Hood and all the other kids in this city deserve for someone to at least try.

Jason could acknowledge that Bruce tried. In many ways, Gotham was only in as good of a shape as it was because of Bruce, both in and out of the cape. He wasn't perfect, and he fucked up, but he tried; to be a hero, to be a leader, to be a parent.

Having Dan had given Jason a whole new perspective on what it meant to be a parent. He thought he had known fear inside and out, but with Dan, fear became a near constant companion. His son's safety had become a priority beyond everything else, including his own. With that new perspective, Jason realized something that he'd never understood before;

Bruce had been terrified.

So many of his less than happy memories of Bruce made so much more sense. So many times Jason had thought Bruce had been angry at him when he had actually been scared for him. Had he handled that fear well? No. But if Jason was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely certain he would have handled the same situation much better.

Jason's new insight into Bruce's motivations had taken much of the heat out of his anger. He hadn't exactly forgiven Bruce; the very idea that the Joker might one day threaten Dan had been enough to get Jason to put him down himself, after all. But he was willing to try, at least, to work with him. To maybe rebuild something of what they'd had before the Joker ripped Jason away. He was willing to give Bruce the chance to try and make it up to him.

The chance to try and be a grandfather.

"Badman!"

"That's right, little man! Good spotting!" Jason did not acknowledge the shadowy figure he now knew was behind him.

"Hiya, Baby Hood!"

"Wahbin!" Dan squealed, toddling over as fast as his little leg's would let him to latch around Robin's leg like a koala. "Wahbin fwy?"

Robin chuckled and obliged, hefting the kid up and swinging him around to his absolute delight.

Batman had tracked Dan's path towards Robin and clearly deemed him not a threat, remaining stoically staring Jason down.

"Red Hood."

"Batman," Jason mimicked.

"The bat signal is for emergencies only."

"I remember."

Slightest twitch in the jaw. He'd picked up on Jason's choice of words.

"You killed Black Mask."

"You have proof that Black Mask is dead?"

Batman's lips pressed together in frustration. That was a no, then.

"What do you want, Hood?"

Jason kept his posture deliberately lax in an effort to keep his riot of nerves from showing.

"I've cleaned up Crime Alley enough that it's no longer a threat to me or mine, so I figured the time had come to share some information you might be interested in."

"What makes you think I'd be interested in anything you have to say?"

"Well, I was pretty sure you might like to know you're a grandfather, at least."

Batman stood completely frozen. Robin also stopped abruptly to stare at Jason in surprise, much to Dan's annoyance.

"Fwy, Wahbin, fwy!"

Batman's head snapped to the side, studying every one of Dan's features. Robin did the same, blinking down at the kid in his arms as though if he blinked enough, the whole situation would make more sense. Jason chose their moment of distraction to slip off his helmet, vehemently ignoring the shake in his fingers.

Batman's head turned back to him, all his previous stoicism completely dropped in favour of gaping at his previously dead son.

Big, blue eyes stared up at him. Bruce stared back, drinking in every feature of his cherubic face. Curious little fingers pressed at the edge of his cowl, feeling the material and clearly trying to reach one of the ears. At the back of his mind, Bruce knew he should be asking questions; how was Jason alive? Where had he been? Who was his baby's mother? Was it really even Jason?

"What's his name?" was what came out instead.

"Dante Alfred Todd." Jason (was it really his Jason, whole and alive?) eyed him warily, poised to grab his baby back if Bruce proved to be a threat. "He prefers Dan, though. Made that clear the minute he mastered the N sound."

Bruce's vision blurred. Jason had named his little boy after Alfred. Bruce's heart felt like it didn't fit in his chest anymore, so overwhelmed by everything he was feeling in the moment. Jason was alive and he had a beautiful baby and he was the Red Hood. So much of who Bruce was at his core revolved around constant preparation and planning for every possible scenario, but this had completely blindsided him. He knew he should be doing something, but all he could manage was looking down in wonder at his grandson, who was apparently determined to inspect every nook of his cowl with his hands.

A rough sound bubbled up out of his chest. It could have been a chuckle or it could have been a sob, Bruce couldn't have said either way.

"I think Baby Hood broke him."

"It, uh, does kinda look that way."

"Oh God. I just realized I defended you to you!"

"If it makes you feel any better, if you hadn't, I might've kicked your ass."

"You mean you would've tried."

"Bold fucking words, Replacement. You wanna try me?"

"Language." Bruce startled himself with the reflexive reprimand just as much as them. "Little ears." He added pointedly when Jason gave him a particularly incredulous look.

Jason rolled his eyes. "We live in Crime Alley, he's heard wors-"

Little fingers that had been pressed against the edge of his cowl near his jawline abruptly slid through Bruce's cheek, molars and gums to painfully jab the base of his tongue. Bruce reared his head back in surprise and Dan seemed to be just as startled by his hand going through Bruce's face because he immediately burst into tears.

"It's okay, little man, you're okay, I gotcha," Jason soothed as he swiftly swooped in to scoop up his son and comfort him. "You won't fall, I promise, Daddy's gotcha."

Dan's wailing eased to unhappy whimpers that he pressed into Jason's shirt. Jason eventually looked up from his son, his mouth pressed into a grim line.

"He's a metahuman," Tim stated the obvious.

"Maybe," Jason hedged, looking at Bruce, "I figured you'd wanna do every test under the sun to make sure I'm, y'know, me. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and figure his deal out too while we're at it."

Bruce finally got a handle on his composure.

"Does he do that often?"

"A few times. Walked right out of his clothes, stumbled through a wall." Jason held his boy a little tighter. "Never through a person though."

Bruce nodded, several plans and possibilities already running through his head. "Concerning. I'll reach out to J'onn, see if he has any suggestions to help him adjust to his intangibility so young, as well as martian baby-proofing techniques. In the meantime…" Bruce hesitated and was saddened to see Jason flinch like he was bracing for a blow. So he swallowed his uncertainty and forged on. "...perhaps you might consider moving to a residence where he isn't at risk of stumbling into the street. The manor has plenty of space, and he can run around the gardens without risk."

Jason seemed honestly shocked by the suggestion.

"You…want us to go back to the manor? Just like that? Don't you wanna run tests? Interrogate me? Hell, yell at me for becoming a criminal?"

"I…do want to run some tests," Bruce admitted, "and there's a lot we need to talk about. But Dan's safety is more important."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "He's safe with me," he hissed, "I swear, if you try and take him away from me I'll destroy everything you've ever touched and disappear somewhere not even Superman can find us."

The very idea made Bruce's heart clench in panic.

"I don't want to take him from you, I want you both to come home."

That truly was all Bruce wanted and he would beg if he had to. Jason assessed him for a long moment, his face blank.

"Even though I'm the Red Hood?"

"Yes."

"Even though I've killed people?"

It broke Bruce's heart to know his little boy had become a killer. That not even death had saved him from that fate.

"Yes."

Jason stared at him for a long moment while Bruce prayed that he believed him. Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. But only 'cause it'll be safer for Dan. And I trust Alfred to watch him while we…talk."

Dick stumbled out of bed, fumbling for the nearest pair of pants as he hit the call icon.

"Hey, Dick," Tim answered, voice amused. The was the muffled sounds of an argument behind him.

"What the fuck?" Dick demanded eloquently. His evil little brother simply cackled at his confusion.

"Dude, just come to the manor. Jason might actually be done yelling at Bruce by the time you get here. Can't promise Dan'll be awake though; kid sleeps like the dead. You'll probably have to wait til morning to officially meet him."

"It's really Jason?" Dick had to ask, voice achingly hopefully.

"Yeah, it's him. We did every test Bruce could think of. He's really back, Dick."

Dick's knees almost gave out from underneath him. Little Wing was alive, somehow. The little brother he'd failed was back and Dick would finally get the second chance that had always been an impossible dream.

"Ok," Dick murmured, more to himself than Tim, "ok, I'm on my way."

Dick probably broke every single traffic law ever written on his way to the manor, but he honestly didn't remember a single second of the drive. All he could say for certain was he hung up on Tim and the next thing he knew he was sprinting into the manor.

"Your shirt is backwards," was the first thing Tim said when Dick tracked him to the living room he'd taken the photo in. Bruce and, apparently, Jason, must have taken their argument somewhere else. He was curled up on the couch under a blanket with his tablet, a tray of toddler friendly snacks within arms reach that was most likely Alfred's doing.

"Don't care, explain," Dick demanded, parking himself next to Tim and his charge.

"So this is Dan," he introduced lightly, a smug grin growing on his face," full name Dante Alfred Todd."

"He named him after Alfred? That's so sweet!"

"Yeah, you should've seen it; I don't think I've ever seen Alfred actually choked up before."

Dick stared down at the little cherub drooling on Tim's shoulder.

"So, Jason's really back? And he has a baby?"

"Yep," Tim answered with a pop, "it's Jason, no doubt about it. Even pulled a Bruce; found a baby in an alley, said 'is anybody gonna parent this' and didn't wait for an answer."

Dick laughed. "Like his father before him! Though I'm assuming this little cutie wasn't jacking his tires at the time." He held out his hands hopefully. "Can I hold?"

"Sure, but if he wakes up because of it you have to deal with Jason."

"I thought you said he slept like the dead?" Dick asked as Tim slowly maneuvered the kid off his shoulder and onto Dick's, resulting in some sleepy grizzling.

"Oh yeah, he slept right through Jason tearing into Bruce, but the reason I'm here and not, y'know, sleeping, is because he started crying every time I tried to put him down."

Luckily, Dan settled into Dick's arms easily, his teeny little baby snores melting Dick's heart.

"He's so cute I'm gonna cry," Dick joked, though the truth was his eyes were actually a little moist. A soft shutter sound told him Tim had immortalized his first time holding his nephew on film. Dick didn't look up, too enamored by the precious bundle in his arms. "How did Bruce take the news?"

"Total blue screen. I think Bane could've tapdanced naked in top of the bat signal and he wouldn't have noticed. It took Dan shoving his hand through his mouth to get him to reboot."

"You mean in his mouth," Dick corrected idly.

"No, I mean through." That got Dick's attention.

"Through?"

Tim pressed his fingertips to the side of his own cheek. "Yeah, through."

Dick looked back down at Dan, reassessing with a more critical eye while Tim kept talking.

"We already ran DNA, obviously. Came back human, no meta gene and not even a partial match to anything in our system."

"Really?" Dick's eyebrows rose in surprise. "So he's, what? A totally normal human that just happens to be able to phase through solid matter?"

"He's a total mystery, is what he is," Tim groaned, shooting his nephew a loving glare, "Jason literally found him in an alley wearing nothing but a blanket with his name on it. None of our tests show him as anything other than baseline human except for the fact that his canines have grown in weirdly sharp and the intangibility, obviously."

"Does he have any scars?" Dick asked, praying the answer was no. His heart sank when Tim made a 'sort of' gesture with his hand.

"If you look real close at his right hand, there's a lot of tiny little lines all connected. They don't look like they're from any kind of incision though, they look more like lichtenberg figures."

Now that it had been pointed out to him, Dick could trace the barely visible lines branching over his nephew's hand. The sight broke his heart.

"So, an abandoned experiment then?" he guessed sadly.

"That's the current theory," Tim agreed, "it's all we've got unless Bruce can actually convince Jason to let us do more tests." He grimaced. "Dan really didn't like getting tested. Just being in the medbay upset him, which is a point to the experiment theory. We only managed to get one vial of blood before Jason couldn't handle the crying and stepped in, and I'm pretty sure we only got that far because Alfred was the one drawing the blood."

"It's pretty normal for kids to hate needles," Dick mused, "is that what they were yelling about when I called?"

"Something like that," Tim hedged, suddenly very focused on his tablet.

"Ah, Master Dick, it seems you've heard the good news," Alfred said as he walked into the room. His gaze softened as it landed on Dan. "I see the young master is still sleeping. The nursery has been prepared and well-aired, if you wish to lay him down."

Dick turned away from Alfred theatrically. "No! I just got here, I need more cuddle time!"

Tim snorted at him. "Enjoy your dead arms. I'm going to bed."

"Master Dick, I'm sure there will be ample opportunities for such things in the future."

"I know, but then I'll have to fight the others to get a turn. Just give me a few more minutes. I'll put him down soon, I promise."

As he pulled in he could see that everyone was in the cave, even Babs, and was that Black Canary? Okay, so it was either a league level threat or some new strain of fear toxin that required a therapist. He was not looking forward to whatever this was.

Black Canary opened her mouth, presumably to explain her presence before being cut off by Dick, bordering on tears. “How could you have kept this all from us Tim?” and Tim felt his eyebrows raise. What is happening?

“Keep what?” Tim had several secrets that they could have found out but none that should elicit such a strong reaction.

“Your family!” and oh. That makes sense they had found out that Danny and the twins were metas, or at least what they would understand to be metas. One of the twins must have slipped up in public. That’s fine this is a conversation he was actually prepared for.

“Look, it’s nothing personal. I know you guys like to know what’s going on, but it’s not like they’re a threat or trying to be a part of all of this. Danny and I both agreed we want the twins away from all of this.” Tim gestured around the cave.

“You can’t just decide that.” Bruce was wearing his I know best and you will listen to me glare. That made Tim angry. How dare he think he gets a say in how Tim raised his kids. How dare he think that just because the twins are metas or are associated with Tim that they had to be heroes. Absolutely not.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me? Because I think you just said that I am not allowed final say on decisions about my children and their safety.” He glared around the room.

-

“How could you have kept all of this from us Tim?” Dick knew he was supposed to let Dinah lead the discussion but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know. The why was all he cared about. Why had his little brother hid this?

“Keep what?” Tim reasoned looking concerned and confused.

“Your family!” Dick regretted the way he yelled it almost as soon as it left his mouth. This was escalating and it was his fault. Tim’s face seemed to drop into a sad resignation.

“Look, it’s nothing personal. I know you guys like to know what’s going on, but it’s not like they’re a threat or trying to be a part of all of this. Danny and I both agreed we want the twins away from all of this.” Tim explained as he gestured to the family. And oh. We’re they tat bad that Tim had decided they weren’t fit to be around his children.

“You can’t just decide that.” Bruce interjected with his something is wrong please talk to me glare. He was hurt. Dick agreed Tim couldn’t just decide to separate from their family without so much as a conversation or even a note.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me? Because I think you just said that I am not allowed final say on decisions about my children and their safety.” Tim’s voice was dark as he glared around the room. And their safety? Did Tim see them as a threat. Was it because of Jason and Damian. Was it because of how he reacted when Bruce was in the time stream?

“That is enough!” Dinah interrupted physically moving to be between Tim and the rest of the family. She sighed as the room quieted. “I can understand why Cass said you would need a mediator for this.” She glared at Bruce and Dick. “We are going to have a mature conversation without all of the yelling and accusations. This is a conversation, not an ambush.”

-

Danny was in the middle of his least favorite chore, washing the dishes, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He glanced at it to see a text from Tim.

Polaris: Get the go bags ready for you and the kids. The bats found out you’re metas and are being weird about it. I don’t trust it.

Starlight: I can take them through the realms to Jazz or leave them with Frostbite if you think you’ll need extraction.

Polaris: If you don’t hear from me in two hours, reach out. Maybe covertly come to the cave and check on me after you drop off the twins if you still don’t hear from me.

Well, there went any chance of a relaxing, peaceful night. Danny focused on keeping his emotions quiet. The last thing they needed was for his distress to wake up the twins.

-

After everyone had a chance to calm down a bit, they sat down, and Dinah started. “Alright, let’s start off with establishing why we are having this conversation. Cass called me in because she didn’t think there would be productive conversations without an outside perspective, and clearly, she was right. Essentially, this is a family group therapy session.”

“Then why am I here? And why bring my family into this?” Was Tim’s immediate response.

“What do you mean replacement?” Jason asked.

When John pondered if he will even be able to seduce the guy (since he could be straight as a board), The Ghost King spoke in his mind again. "You just gotta get him to leave my mom alone, I just don't think anyone could fully kill him since he's a halfa, but not quite like me. He's like 55% dead I think?"

John gets the mental impression of a shrug before The Ghost King leaves his mind.

Thankfully, John knows exactly what should happen if the guy is truly straight and doesn't want a 30 year old man with a chronic cough due to years of heavy smoking.

-----

Two months later and the man known as Vlad Masters was in a tragic car accident that put him in a coma soon after he fell in love with a British man.

That portal should've killed him completely the first time around, fuck! Danny grimaces. Bribes? BRIBES?!

Sam makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, and her nails dig into his skin tightly. Danny hisses through his teeth and suppresses the urge to flinch away. "You want to bribe Bruce Wayne!?"

"I don't know!" He twists his head around to stare at her, "How much money you got?"

Sam makes another strangled noise, and hisses: "Not that much!"

Danny turns back around and stares widely at Wayne. Wayne, who still has his phone to his ear and hasn't dropped the gobsmacked expression and-- still has the door open!

It's Danny's turn to make a noise in the back of his throat, and it's far more high pitched than Sam's, and a lot more distressed. "Close the door!" It's bad enough that one person already saw him in a pathetic state, he doesn't want the whole party to know! He can't explain this!

He starts scrambling to his feet just as his command registers in Wayne's head, and the man blinks once, twice and then turns and slams the door shut. Then the lock clicks.

Danny's not sure whether or not to feel relieved about that. Sam grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him back down to the ground.

"Bruce?" A voice through the phone calls, "Is everything alright? I heard yelling."

"Hm?" Wayne goes, turning around to face them again. Danny keeps eye contact with him while Sam resumes whatever she's doing with his injuries. There's a noticeable hurriedness in her hands.

Danny gives Wayne his best pleading look.

Wayne looks away from him, his mouth pursing. Danny tries to intensify his pleading look, and sees in real time as Wayne begins to break. Like a sandstone getting soaked in water, he begins to crumble.

"Bruce?"

"...I'll call you back." Wayne says, hitting a button on the screen and ending the phone call right then and there. Danny's shoulders slump--which sends a biting pain down his side.

Wayne shoves his phone into his pocket, opens his mouth to speak, and Danny beats him to the punch before he can: "How much money do you want?"

"What?!"

"Danny!"

Screw it! He's committing to this! Danny grits his teeth and whirls back around on Sam again, "Sam! Give me your wallet!"

"I told you!" Sam says, "I don't have that much money!"

"Then give me my phone!" It's in his jacket pocket, and that's out of his reach. He'd use his telekinesis to pull it towards him, but Wayne is right there! "I'll text Vlad!" It's his fault this is even a problem!

Sam scoffs at him, and presses on his burn wound. "You think Vlad's gonna help you out here?"

"He's gonna have to!" Normally Danny's a lot more levelheaded than this, but unfortunately this is not a normal situation. "He can bribe Bruce Wayne for us!"

"You think Vlad is gonna bribe Bruce Wayne?"

"I'll bribe Vlad," He hisses, it wouldn't be that hard! It'd be embarrassingly easy, actually! He'd just have to sacrifice some of his own pride for it, but that's a cost he's willing to take if it means that this doesn't get out.

Because it just hit him that his reputation doesn't extend past Amity, and this is totally gonna get out.

"You're gonna bribe Vlad to bribe Bruce Wayne." Sam says incredulously, and Danny makes a frustrated sound through his nose. "You think that's gonna work?"

"I think you're forgetting that he's obsessed with me." He can bribe Vlad with spending time with him every weekend for a month, hell maybe even two!

"And I think you're forgetting that he's the reason you're like this at all."

"Excuse me?" Oh, Danny did not like that tone Wayne said that in. He looks back at Wayne and finds him staring the two of them down with an expression Danny can only describe as angry and vaguely protective.

Ohhh that's right, he's still there.

Wayne's brows furrow and he looks between Sam and Danny, eyes intermittently looking down to the various scars making cross stitch across his skin. And the blood smeared over him. Can't forget the blood.

"Vlad?" Wayne says, he takes a step towards them, "as in Vlad Masters? Did Vlad Masters do this?"

Uhhhhh-- Danny blinks widely.

"Do you take cash or credit?"

Bruce stays deliberately neutral on the outside.

On the inside, something cold and furious locks into place.

“Daniel,” he says carefully, “when you say Mr. Masters is ‘obsessed’ with you—”

Danny immediately stiffens.

Sam moves, fast, placing herself between them just enough to block Bruce’s line of sight to Danny’s ribs.

“We’re not talking about that,” Sam snaps. “You don’t need to know.”

Bruce clocks that too.

Protective peer. Gatekeeping details. Defensive posture.

Another classic sign.

“I’m not asking for details,” Bruce replies evenly. “I’m asking to understand the risk.”

Danny laughs, short and humorless. “Risk’s kinda his whole thing.”

That does not help.

Bruce’s jaw tightens.

“Does he touch you?” Bruce asks.

Danny chokes.

Sam makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a swear. “Jesus—”

“No,” Danny blurts immediately, too fast, too loud. “No! No, not— not like that! I mean— he—”

He stops.

Because explaining Vlad without explaining ghosts is impossible.

And Bruce’s eyes sharpen at the hesitation.

Incomplete denial.

Bruce has seen that too.

“So let me get this straight,” Bruce says, keeping his voice low and controlled. “This man repeatedly puts you in dangerous situations. You leave injured. You normalize it. You assume adults won’t help you. And you believe the only way to stay safe is silence.”

Danny opens his mouth.

Closes it.

“…That’s not—” he starts, then exhales sharply. “That’s not wrong, but it’s not like you think.”

Bruce nods.

That, too, is something he’s heard before.

“Does he threaten you?” Bruce asks.

“Uhh—”

“Manipulate you?”

Danny hesitates.

Sam shoots him a look.

Danny groans. “He’s… complicated.”

Bruce’s internal alarms go from blaring to screaming.

Complicated is what kids say when they don’t have the language—or permission—to say harmful.

Bruce stands.

Not abruptly. But with intent.

“Daniel,” he says, voice firm now, “I want to be very clear about something.”

Danny tenses.

“You are not in trouble,” Bruce continues. “You are not obligated to explain anything to me. And I will not force information out of you.”

Danny swallows.

“But,” Bruce adds, eyes hard, “if an adult is fixated on you in a way that results in repeated injury—intentional or not—that is something I take seriously.”

Sam crosses her arms. “You don’t get to.”

Bruce meets her stare without flinching. “I do when it happens under my roof.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Danny shifts, uncomfortable, guilt creeping in. “He’s not— he’s not doing what you’re thinking.”

Bruce exhales slowly. “Then help me understand what he is doing.”

Danny opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Because every safe explanation requires the word ghost.

Tell the truth?

Then what? 'Yeah, I'm just an illegal vigilante in an unknown town fighting evil ghosts. Vlad sometimes beats me up because he wants to marry my mom.'

Whoops. Here he goes to the psych ward! Thanks, Bruce Wayne! I always wanted a new pair of grippy socks!

Yeah. Snowballs chance in Hell.

Danny grabs his coat, ignoring how weird he's going to look without his shirt, and just books it to the windowsill.

"Fuck my— Danny!" Sam shouts, racing after him as he pops open the window. The goth is trying to stuff her medical items back into her bag as she runs.

The boy wriggles out, almost falling into a rosebush as he starts to run in any direction, really.

Sam is right next to him, and he hears his named called in the distance— which must've been Bruce Wayne— but they dart through a forest. Sam has abandoned her dress shoes (which wasn't really all that bad, they were terribly gaudy and useless anyway) and he almost runs into a tree.

A branch hits him in the face and he finally decides to dart behind a large trunk, his friend following.

She looks ticked, with leaves in her hair and footprints in the dress she had been tripping over.

"Danny! What were you thinking?!" She asked, sharply, tugging his jacket back off of him. They both hissed in tandem; him at the fabric being removed from the wounds, and her at the sight of his injuries. "Looks like you made it bigger and bleed more."

"Oh, joy, thanks, I was really looking forward to learning that—"

"I'm sorry, Phantom, you look like a piece of flesh was removed from your side! How dare I point it out, that your arms look like a demon cat went at them—"

Despite feeling like the trees were closing in, yet, he feels himself laugh. It pulls uncomfortably at his ribcage, but his demented (or 'traumatized', as Jazz would say) mind imagined Vlad with cat ears and a collar.

Sam just stops talking for a bit to press gauze to his side, pausing her argument to concentrate, beginning to wrap bandages, and tugs to tighten until he gives another hiss.

The reality of the situation was coming in as the adrenaline wore off, his head thunking to the rough bark. "Ohh fuck. How are we going to deal with Bruce Wayne of all people."

"I don't think bribery is going to work." Sam grumbles, continuing to unspool the bandage roll.

"Wow, I couldn't tell." He exhaled, wincing at the sting. The pain was really starting to set in now. It felt like his whole left side was on fire, and his arms didn't feel much better. "Maybe we can convince him he was hallucinating all of it."

"Um, no the fuck we can't!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know, maybe the bloody shirt in his room?!"

Before he could get out another word, he slapped a hand over Sam's mouth as he heard a rustle in the distance. She made a muffled noise of outrage before he sent her a look.

Danny almost thought he had started hallucinating, dropping his hand from Sam's mouth.

"Daniel."

Fuck. His. Life.

Plasmius loomed over the both of them, wrenching Sam away so hard she fell and stumbled into the dirt.

Looks like he was still pissed from their little spat earlier.

"Where in Gods name have you been? And where is your shirt? I paid hundreds of dollars for that."

"Well, that's your fault, you fruitloop, I said I could've just gotten it from GoodWill."

"Answer the question." He growled, red eyes flaring in the shade of the tree.

Sam sat up, looking furious. "Get away from him! You've already done enough damage, if you couldn't tell, Vlad."

Bands of ectoplasm shot out, attaching Sam to a tree as she gave a shout of anger and surprise. "Do not call me that, little girl."

Danny immediately straightened, pushing off from the tree, his own rage quickly rising. "Put her down. Now."

"Answer the question. I won't ask again, Daniel."

"Look, Bruce Wayne walked in—"

"You revealed our status to Bruce Wayne?!"

Uh oh, was all Danny could think, and then were was a steel hand at his throat, pinning him back to the tree. Plasmius looked downright murderous.

Sam screamed at him to stop, until a rope went around her mouth. Danny did his best to try kicking him off, and yet, he couldn't concentrate on going ghost. Or going intangible. His entire side and arms felt agonized and sticky as he clawed at the ghost.

"No— ack— I did'n—"

"I am not a patient man. First you insult and demean my authority, then you cause a useless fight and make us to be late, and now you're risking our identities?"

Danny's vision was getting black spots as he could barely breathe, lungs on fire.

I'm so dead, was all he thought, seeing Sam's terrified eyes and thrashing figure. Maybe I should've stuck with Bruce Wayne for a little longer.

There was a flash of something in his peripherals, and he was released from Vlad's grip with a watery gasp.

There were large, warm hands grasping at him, and he lashed out again, trying to kick them away.

His ears ringing lessened, and he pried his eyes back open, only to see Bruce fucking Wayne over his crumpled and pathetic self.

"Lad. Daniel. Breathe," He instructed, gently prying his own hands away from his neck to survey the damage.

There was a smack sound next to him, and he turned his head momentarily to see Sam, flushed with fury and holding a large branch over Plas— wait, Vlad's body.

She hit him again, until Bruce Wayne reached out a hand and grabbed the stick, yet his gaze didn't stray from Danny. The man's tie is loosened and he looks so concerned that it hurts to the boy who grew up rifling for bandages since he was ten.

Creepy. Comforting. Danny think he hit his head too hard this time.