#cracktreatedseriously

Danny is back in human form.

Sitting cross-legged on the medical table.

Eating cookies.

Because of course he is.

“…I’m just saying,” he says to no one in particular, “if you’re gonna call me an ‘entity,’ I deserve at least one cool nickname.”

From the computer—

a secure line opens.

Then another.

Then three more.

Bruce didn’t call them.

Which means—

They’re already watching.

Holograms Flicker On

One by one, the Batfamily appears.

Nightwing — already mid-concerned-big-brother face

Red Hood — leaning back like this is about to be entertaining

Red Robin — eyes locked, processing at 300 mph

Oracle — calm, but very focused

Danny waves.

“Hi! Oh wow, there’s more of you.”

Silence.

Collective.

Processing.

Nightwing is first.

“…Bruce,” he says slowly, “why is there a glowing file label next to that kid that says ‘Lazarus-class’?”

Danny perks up. “RIGHT?? I asked the same thing!”

Batman: “We’re still assessing.”

Red Hood leans forward.

“…Define ‘assessing,’ because from where I’m sitting, that looks like ‘you brought home something that crawled out of a pit and gave it cookies.’”

Danny points at him. “Okay, first of all, I did not crawl out of a pit—”

Damian cuts in:

“He is worse.”

Danny gasps. “Wow.”

Tim (Red Robin) Zooms In

Literally.

He enhances the feed.

Pulls up Danny’s scan overlay.

“You’re not just calling him Lazarus-adjacent,” Tim says, voice tight with focus. “His energy signature is stabilized. That’s not possible.”

Danny raises a hand.

“Okay, not to derail the science moment, but I feel like I should be impressed and I don’t know why.”

Tim ignores him.

“He’s not degrading,” Tim continues. “No rage spikes, no neural decay, no dependency cycles—”

Barbara (Oracle) cuts in:

“Which means whatever he is, it’s not a side effect.”

A beat.

“…It’s the base state.”

Silence.

That lands.

Danny slowly lowers his cookie.

“…Okay, that one sounded important.”

Jason (Red Hood) Leans In

Now he’s interested.

Really interested.

“…Kid,” Jason says, “you ever, I don’t know—die and come back wrong?”

Danny brightens instantly.

“Oh! Yeah, that’s literally my whole deal.”

Jason sits up.

“…You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“How many times?”

Danny pauses.

“…Define ‘times.’”

Jason grins.

Sharp.

Delighted.

“Oh, I like him.”

Damian: “No.”

Nightwing Tries to Be the Adult

Fails immediately.

“Okay—okay—hold on,” Dick says, rubbing his face. “Let’s back up. Bruce, you’re telling me this kid—”

gestures vaguely at Danny

“—got stabbed multiple times, healed instantly, then turned into a glowing ghost thing, and your solution was to—what—bring him home?”

Danny raises his hand.

“In my defense, I came with snacks.”

Alfred, off-screen:

“And impeccable manners.”

Dick freezes.

“…Alfred’s on his side?”

Batman: “…Yes.”

Dick exhales.

“…We’ve lost him.”

Barbara Takes Control

“Alright,” Barbara says, voice calm, cutting through the chaos. “Danny, right?”

Danny nods. “Yep!”

“Walk me through it. What exactly happens when you ‘transform’?”

Danny perks up.

“Oh! Okay, so—”

Damian: “He does not need to—”

Too late.

Danny’s eyes flash green—

—and in a split second—

he shifts again.

White hair.

Glowing eyes.

Hovering just above the ground.

The Batcave lights flicker.

The feed glitches—

across every screen.

Everyone goes still.

Jason actually leans closer.

“…Oh, that’s—yeah, that’s familiar.”

Tim whispers:

“That’s not Lazarus…”

Barbara, quieter:

“…but it’s close enough to matter.”

Nightwing just stares.

“…Bruce.”

Batman doesn’t respond.

Because he’s watching Danny.

The way the air bends.

The way the cave reacts.

The way something else seems to exist in the same space as him—

layered over reality.

Danny looks at the holograms.

“…Too much?”

The Realization Hits—All at Once

Tim:

“He’s self-sustaining.”

Barbara:

“He’s not reacting to the environment—”

Jason:

“He is the environment.”

Damian:

“He is a liability.”

Danny: “Hey—”

Nightwing:

“He’s a kid.”

Silence.

That one hits differently.

Danny freezes.

Just slightly.

Then—

“…Yeah,” he says, softer.

The glow flickers.

Just a bit.

Jason Breaks the Tension

“…So,” Jason says casually, “does this mean he can’t die, or—”

Danny shrugs mid-air.

“Hasn’t stuck yet.”

Jason nods.

“Yeah, okay, we’re definitely keeping him.”

Damian: “We are not keeping him.”

Jason: “Speak for yourself.”

Batman Finally Speaks

Low.

Final.

“He’s not a weapon.”

That shuts everyone up.

Even Jason.

Even Damian.

Danny blinks.

“…Was that in question?”

No one answers.

Which is an answer.

Batman continues:

“He’s not a resource. Not a tool. Not a solution.”

A beat.

“…And not something Ra’s gets to claim.”

That shifts the room.

Immediately.

Barbara sharpens.

“You think Ra’s knows?”

Batman: “Yes.”

Tim: “…Then we have a problem.”

Jason grins again.

“Correction—we have a fun problem.”

Damian: “You are the only one who finds this enjoyable.”

Danny Floats Down

The glow fades.

He drops back into human form.

Looks around.

“…So, quick summary—am I in danger, or like… extra in danger?”

Nightwing sighs.

“…Both.”

Danny nods.

“Cool. Just checking.”

Final Beat

Alfred steps into frame behind Danny.

Places a hand lightly on his shoulder.

Grounding.

Steady.

“You will not be facing it alone, Master Danny.”

Danny smiles.

Easy.

Trusting.

“Yeah,” he says. “I figured.”

Across the cave—

Batman watches.

Because now it’s not just a mystery.

Not just a case.

Not just a threat.

It’s a responsibility.

And somewhere out there—

switching from beta to omega for april fools is exactly the kind of unhinged, niche, deeply fandom-brained decision we’ve come to expect and cherish. flawless execution. 10/10, the entire class learned something today.

Summary: “The city was falling apart. Again. Steve swore—he swore—they just got done protecting New York City from aliens, but apparently this was shaping up to be a bi-annual thing. Great. Just great.”

or

the a/b/o fic in which Steve talks old Brooklyn again just because he met Bucky for the first time.

—————

“Shit. Shit, shit, fuck. Fucking shit!”

“Language!”

“Hey, watch it, Cap.”

“Are we really going to ignore the fact that Barton just said language?”

“Hey! What about Sammy boy over here telling Cap to watch it, huh?”

The city was falling apart. Again. Steve swore—he swore—they just got done protecting New York City from aliens, but apparently this was shaping up to be a bi-annual thing. Great. Just great.

He was in Brooklyn when this all started what seemed like hours ago (the murderous giant things with—eyes all over their bodies?—actually dropped out of the sky approximately 32 minutes, 38 point oh five seconds ago, point oh six...) and the subways were down, so he was still running through hysteric crowds in an attempt to calm the situation down here while making his way uptown to where all the other Avengers we’re dealing with the point of entrance (being honest with himself, Steve knew it was probably some weird hole in the galaxy/portal thing. Freakin’ 21st century, man.)

And yeah, sue him, but their new alien buddies were goddamn massive and crushing just about everything in sight. So he let out a few choice words.

“Fuck!”

“Seriously, Cap?” Tony. Of course it was Tony. “There are humans of the small variation around me, and I’m pretty sure they can hear you screaming through the comms. You’re fuck—dging loud.”

Steve really couldn’t be bothered to respond to that at the moment. “Widow, Falcon, anyone but Tony—“

“Hey!”

“—status report. They still comin’?”

“Coming in strong, Steve.”

Shit. “Alright, Tony. Report. How do we close the point of entrance?”

“Just— ah!”

“Tony?”

“Ignore the little girl scream, that didn’t happen, nope, no sir. Just gotta do some stuff, you know, quantum molecular—“

“Alright, thanks, Tony. Let’s triangulate the remaining. I’ll be there in—“

“Watch out!”

Steve looked up at the scream. The civilian scream. Civilians were everywhere, paramedics and cops among them, but everyone was running and Steve wished he could get them all somewhere safe but— Look up, Rogers. Get outta your head, outta the comms, someone is right in front of you, they need help, they smell so good, and they’re, they’re in front of Alien With Eyes from the Sky, and fuck.

“‘Scuse me, sugar.” Steve rushed to maneuver the sweet-smelling (shit, so sweet, how is he so sweet I’m not even close enough to scent him am I?) long-haired, well-built omega in front of him away from the giant beast as gently and quickly as possible, which was pretty much throwing him out of the way because sheesh, Alien Buddy was angry.

There was silence on the comms as Steve finally met up with the gang at the point of entrance—yep, it’s a portally thing, he’s not surprised—drawing the Angry Alien Buddy away from the sweet-smelling omega civilian.

“Did Steve just talk Brooklyn?” Sam started.

“Did Steve just call a random guy sugar?” Tony continued.

“RAGHHHHH.” The Angry Alien Buddies With Eyes from the Sky finished, and they all directed their attention at getting the job done and the city safe.

The last bell rings.

Students flood out. Teachers sigh in relief. Somewhere in the distance, a window explodes.

Normal Gotham things.

Damian is already alert.

“Stay behind me, Fenton,” he says, hand hovering near a concealed blade.

Danny blinks. “Why? Are we doing a fire drill or—”

The ground erupts.

Three figures in League of Assassins gear land in a semicircle around them—silent, precise, lethal.

Students scream. Scatter.

Damian draws his sword in one smooth motion.

Danny squints. “Oh. Ninjas. Cool.”

Damian spares him a look. “These are not—”

One assassin lunges.

Damian intercepts, steel ringing against steel. Another circles. The third?

Goes straight for Danny.

The assassin grabs him by the arm—

—and pauses.

Danny just stares at him.

“…Hi?” Danny offers.

The assassin hesitates for half a second.

Big mistake.

Danny tilts his head. “So like… are you guys hiring? Because your dress code is kinda strict but the whole ‘dramatic entrance’ thing? Respect.”

The assassin tries to knock him out.

CRACK.

Danny’s head snaps to the side.

He slowly turns back.

“…Rude.”

Behind them, Damian finishes disarming his opponent and spins—

—just in time to see Danny get punched again.

And again.

And not go down.

Damian’s eyes narrow.

“Fenton,” he snaps, “why are you not unconscious?”

Danny shrugs mid-grapple. “Good question, I’ve been asking that since like, age fourteen.”

The assassin draws a blade—

—and stabs Danny clean through the shoulder.

Damian moves instantly.

Too late.

The blade sinks in.

There’s a beat.

Danny looks down at it.

“…huh.”

Damian freezes. The assassins freeze.

Danny grabs the handle.

Yanks it out with a wet sound.

“Hey, quick note,” he says, waving the knife slightly, “this is, like, super unsanitary.”

The wound?

Already closing.

The assassin steps back.

For the first time—uncertain.

Damian stares.

“…What are you?”

Danny brightens. “Oh! I’m Danny.”

“THAT WAS NOT THE QUESTION.”

Another assassin throws a smoke bomb.

The area fills with gray haze—

—and when it clears, Danny is gone.

Damian stiffens.

“…Tt. Kidnapped.”

Scene: League Safehouse — Somewhere Unpleasant

Danny wakes up tied to a chair.

He looks around.

“…Okay, this is new.”

A familiar, chilling presence steps from the shadows.

Ra's al Ghul

Ra’s studies him with ancient, calculating eyes.

“You are… not what I expected.”

Danny grins. “Aw, thanks, I get that a lot.”

Ra’s circles him slowly. “Vlad Masters has taken an interest in you. That alone makes you… valuable.”

Danny groans. “Ugh, him. Can I opt out of being valuable?”

Ra’s ignores that.

“You will serve as leverage.”

Danny considers.

“…Counter-offer: you don’t kidnap me, and I don’t accidentally haunt your entire organization?”

Ra’s pauses.

“…Accidentally?”

Danny shrugs. “Look, I don’t always control the whole ‘ghostly vengeance’ vibe.”

There’s a faint sound in the corner.

A soft crunch.

Invisible, lounging like he paid for front-row seats—

Vlad Masters

—eating popcorn.

Silently laughing.

Ra’s gestures.

An assassin steps forward—

—and drives a blade into Danny’s side.

Danny flinches.

“…Okay, seriously, what is with you people and stabbing—”

The blade is pulled out.

The wound seals.

Ra’s stills.

For the first time—

genuine interest.

“…Remarkable.”

Danny winces. “Yeah, my doctor said the same thing right before he quit.”

Ra’s leans closer.

“You are not merely leverage.”

Danny smiles nervously. “Oh no.”

“You are an opportunity.”

Scene: Gotham Rooftop — Night

Damian lands silently beside Batman.

Batman stands in shadow.

“Report.”

Damian crosses his arms.

“…Fenton was taken.”

A beat.

“And?”

Damian hesitates.

“…He allowed it.”

Batman turns.

“…Explain.”

Damian scowls.

“I am… still attempting to.”

The chamber is dim.

Ancient.

Quiet in the way that feels intentional.

At its center, the Lazarus Pit glows—green, slow, alive in a way it shouldn’t be.

Ra's al Ghul stands at its edge, hands clasped behind his back.

Waiting.

A shadow kneels behind him.

“Detective Batman has completed his analysis.”

Ra’s doesn’t turn.

“Of course he has.”

A pause.

“And?”

“He believes the boy is… comparable to the Lazarus phenomenon. Internalized. Stable.”

Silence.

Then—

Ra’s exhales.

Soft.

Almost pleased.

“…So he sees it.”

The assassin hesitates.

“There is more.”

“Speak.”

“He has classified the boy as closer to a Lazarus entity than a human.”

That does it.

Ra’s smiles.

Slow.

Certain.

“Good.”

Closer to the Pit

He steps nearer to the glowing waters.

The light reflects in his eyes.

Ancient hunger.

Ancient purpose.

“For centuries,” Ra’s says, voice low, “the Lazarus Pits have been a gift… and a limitation.”

The assassin remains silent.

Listening.

“They restore,” Ra’s continues, “but imperfectly. They demand balance. They take as much as they give.”

A flick of irritation.

“A flawed immortality.”

He looks down into the Pit.

“And now…”

A beat.

“…a child walks the world who has surpassed them.”

Flash of Memory — Danny Laughing

“—okay but have you tried not stabbing me—”

Ra’s’ smile deepens.

“No madness. No degradation. No dependency.”

He turns.

Finally.

“To be reborn without cost…”

His voice lowers.

“…is not an anomaly.”

“It is evolution.”

Scene Shift: Batcave — Same Night

Danny is upside down.

Literally.

Hanging off the edge of the medical bed with his head dangling toward the floor.

“…I’m just saying,” he tells Damian Wayne, “if gravity wanted me right-side up, it would’ve tried harder.”

Damian is reconsidering every decision that led here.

“This is not normal behavior.”

“Define normal,” Danny shoots back.

From the console, Batman doesn’t look up.

“Danny.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop hanging upside down.”

“…You’re no fun.”

He flips upright anyway.

Immediately fine.

Of course he is.

Back to the League

Ra’s begins to pace.

Measured.

Deliberate.

“Batman will attempt to contain him,” he says. “Study him. Perhaps even protect him.”

A quiet scoff.

“As though one can own such a thing.”

The assassin speaks carefully.

“What are your orders?”

Ra’s stops.

Considers.

Then—

“No more crude attempts.”

The assassin blinks.

“…My lord?”

Ra’s turns sharply.

“Did you learn nothing from the last encounter?”

A flicker of irritation.

“You do not seize a force like that.”

He gestures toward the Pit.

“You understand it.”

Scene: Batcave — Ongoing

Danny is now poking at one of the Batcomputer screens.

“…so this is, like, your search history?”

Damian grabs his wrist. “Do not touch—”

Too late.

Danny scrolls.

“…wow, you really do not trust anybody.”

Batman: “Correct.”

Danny nods. “Respect.”

A pause.

Then—

Danny squints.

“…hey, why am I labeled ‘Potential Lazarus-Class Entity’?”

Silence.

Damian slowly turns.

Batman freezes for half a second.

Danny looks between them.

“…That sounds fake.”

Back to the League

Ra’s raises his hand.

A new projection activates.

Surveillance images.

Blurry.

But clear enough:

Danny in the Batcave.

Danny transforming.

The moment his eyes flare green—

frozen.

Captured.

Analyzed.

Ra’s watches it like a man watching destiny unfold.

“…There.”

The assassin leans forward.

“The transformation.”

Ra’s nods.

“Not resurrection.”

“Not mutation.”

A beat.

“State change.”

He steps closer to the projection.

Reaches out—almost touching the image.

“You see a weapon,” he says softly.

“Batman sees a variable.”

His expression sharpens.

“I see a successor.”

Scene: Batcave — Tension Shift

Danny is still staring at the screen.

“…Okay, seriously, should I be concerned about that label?”

Batman answers this time.

“Yes.”

Danny nods slowly.

“…Cool. Love that.”

A beat.

Then—

“Wait, does that mean I get, like, categorized with spooky green pool guy?”

Damian: “Do not refer to the Lazarus Pit as—”

Danny: “Spooky green pool guy, got it.”

Back to the League — Final Orders

Ra’s turns away from the projection.

Decision made.

Absolute.

“We do not take him,” he says.

“We invite him.”

The assassin stiffens.

“…Invite.”

“Yes.”

Ra’s smiles faintly.

“Appeal to his curiosity. His defiance. His… lack of fear.”

A knowing look.

“He will come.”

“And if he refuses?”

Ra’s gaze flicks once more to the Pit.

Then back.

“Then we ensure he understands…”

A pause.

Cold.

Certain.

“…that he belongs to something greater.”

Scene: Batcave — Final Beat

Danny stretches.

“…You know, for a secret underground lair, this place is weirdly cozy.”

No one responds.

Because something has shifted.

They all feel it.

Even Danny.

He tilts his head slightly.

“…Okay, weird question,” he says.

Batman looks at him.

“What.”

Danny frowns.

“…Does it feel like someone just made a decision about me?”

Silence.

Heavy.

Foreboding.

Batman’s voice is low.

“…Yes.”

Danny sighs.

The kitchen is warm.

Quiet.

Normal.

Which is already suspicious.

Danny is perched on a stool, halfway through what looks like his third plate of food.

“…so then the ghost dog chased me through a wall,” he’s saying, gesturing with a fork, “and I chased it back, and then we both got stuck in a doorframe for, like, ten minutes—”

Alfred Pennyworth hums thoughtfully. “An unfortunate architectural limitation.”

“Right?? Finally, someone gets it.”

At the doorway, unseen by Danny—

Batman watches.

Still.

Silent.

Evaluating.

Alfred glances at him once.

A tiny, knowing look.

Danny keeps talking.

“…and yeah, that’s why I don’t phase through moving objects anymore. Static only. Learned that the hard way.”

Batman steps forward.

Danny immediately brightens.

“Oh hey! You’re back.”

“I never left.”

“Wow. Creepy.”

A beat.

“…Accurate,” Danny adds.

Alfred sets down a fresh cup of tea.

“Master Bruce had additional questions, I imagine.”

Danny perks up. “Oh, interrogation round two? Nice. Do I get a score this time?”

Batman ignores that.

“Come with me.”

Danny hops off the stool.

“Cool. Field trip.”

Scene: The Batcave — Main Platform

The cave feels different now.

Quieter.

More focused.

Like it knows something is about to happen.

Danny looks around.

“…Okay, yeah, still cool. Just checking.”

Batman turns to face him fully.

No shadows this time.

No distance.

Direct.

“You said your body isn’t entirely physical.”

Danny nods. “Yep.”

“I want a demonstration.”

Straightforward.

Danny blinks.

“…You could’ve just said that earlier, I would’ve saved, like, twenty minutes of backstory.”

Batman doesn’t respond.

Danny rocks on his heels.

“Okay, uh… how do I—”

He pauses.

Thinking.

“…Alright, heads up,” he says, suddenly more serious. “This might look a little weird.”

Damian, from the shadows above, folds his arms.

“It already does.”

Danny points. “That’s fair.”

A breath.

Then—

Danny closes his eyes.

For a split second—

nothing.

Then everything.

A pulse of cold energy snaps through the cave.

Not explosive.

Not loud.

Just… wrong.

The lights flicker.

The computers glitch.

The air drops in temperature like someone opened a door to somewhere that shouldn’t exist.

Batman doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink.

But he feels it.

Everyone does.

Danny inhales—

—and changes.

Hair bleaches white in a ripple, like color draining out of it.

Eyes flare open—

glowing, toxic green.

Not reflective.

Not light-catching.

Light-producing.

His clothes shift, black flooding over them, a stark white emblem burning into existence across his chest.

Boots. Gloves. Clean lines. Not fabric—something else.

Energy, maybe.

Memory, maybe.

Power.

He lifts off the ground.

Just a few inches.

Effortless.

Silent.

Where Danny Fenton stood—

something other now hovers.

Not human.

Not entirely.

Not safe to categorize.

Damian’s grip tightens on the railing.

“…What.”

Batman’s voice is very quiet.

“…Not a metahuman.”

Danny—no, something Danny-shaped—tilts his head.

When he speaks, there’s an echo under his voice.

Soft.

Layered.

“Ta-da?”

He looks down at himself.

“Okay, wow, I always forget how dramatic this part is.”

Batman steps closer.

Slow.

Measured.

Predator approaching something that might also be a predator.

“Explain.”

Danny shrugs mid-air.

“Ghost mode.”

“…Ghost.”

“Yeah, see, that’s the part people get stuck on.”

Damian drops down from above, landing hard.

Sword already in hand.

“You expect us to believe you are—what—dead?”

Danny winces. “Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“You said you died.”

“I did!”

“You are standing here.”

“I am floating, technically.”

Damian looks ready to throw something sharp.

Batman raises a hand.

Stops him.

His eyes haven’t left Danny.

“You generate your own energy field,” he says. “Self-sustaining. Intangible state. Regenerative baseline tied to—what—this form?”

Danny brightens mid-hover.

“Oh! Yeah, kinda! It’s like this is the ‘real’ me, and the other one’s just… better at pretending to be normal.”

Silence.

That sentence lands hard.

Damian lowers his blade—just slightly.

“…Your human form is the disguise.”

Danny winces. “I mean, when you say ‘disguise,’ it sounds evil, but yeah, basically.”

Batman studies him.

Every detail.

The glow.

The lack of breath.

The way the air bends—just a little—around him.

“You weren’t injured in the corridor,” he says.

Danny shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You allowed the damage.”

“Yeah, it’s easier than dodging sometimes.”

Damian makes a strangled noise. “That is not strategy.”

“It is when you can’t die about it.”

Silence.

Again.

Danny notices.

“…Okay, that one might’ve been a bit much.”

Batman stops an arm’s length away.

Close enough now to see it clearly.

This isn’t just powers.

This is—

something else.

Ancient.

Alien.

Cold in a way that isn’t temperature.

“What are you?” he asks again.

Quieter this time.

Danny hesitates.

For once—

no joke.

“…I don’t know,” he admits.

The glow dims—just a fraction.

“I mean, I know what I call it,” he adds, softer, “but that doesn’t mean I understand it.”

Damian watches him.

Really watches.

“…You are not afraid,” he says.

Danny looks at him.

Then away.

“…Not of this.”

That again.

That pattern.

Batman files it away.

Of course he does.

A beat passes.

Then—

Danny snaps his fingers.

The glow flickers out.

The white drains from his hair.

Gravity remembers him.

He drops lightly back onto his feet—

back to hoodie, messy hair, and “just some guy.”

“…Anyway!” he says, like that didn’t just happen. “That’s the whole thing. Thoughts?”

Silence.

Complete.

Utter.

System failure.

Damian turns slowly to Batman.

“…We are keeping him.”

Danny lights up. “Wait, really?”

Batman doesn’t answer.

Because for the first time since this started—

he doesn’t have one.

And somewhere, deep in the cave—

the computers quietly log a new classification.

The alarms don’t blare.

They never do.

But something shifts.

A pressure in the air. A silent warning that something—or someone—has entered who doesn’t belong.

Damian feels it first.

Of course he does.

He’s mid-step, already dragging Danny by the wrist toward the exit.

“Walk faster.”

“I am walking fast,” Danny protests, half-jogging. “You just have, like, assassin legs.”

Behind them, shadows gather.

Ahead—

A figure drops from above.

Cape snapping once before settling like it owns the dark.

Batman

He lands between them and the exit.

Still.

Silent.

Assessing.

His gaze flicks once to Damian—alive, uninjured.

Then to Danny—

Also alive.

Also—

“…unrestrained.”

Danny brightens. “Oh hey, you’re the bat guy.”

Damian releases Danny immediately.

“Father.”

Batman’s voice is low, controlled.

“Report.”

Damian hesitates.

Which, for him?

Is basically a five-alarm fire.

“…The mission parameters have… changed.”

Batman’s eyes narrow.

They always do when Damian starts sounding like that.

“And the hostage?”

Danny raises a hand. “Present!”

Batman looks at him fully now.

Clocking everything in seconds:

No visible injuries.

No fear response.

Posture: relaxed.

Expression: curious.

Clothing: slightly bloodstained—

“Is that blood?” Batman asks.

Danny glances down, pokes at his shirt, then—without hesitation—licks his finger.

“…Nah. Ketchup.”

Damian pinches the bridge of his nose.

“…It is not ketchup.”

“It could be ketchup.”

“It was a stab wound.”

Batman’s head tilts—just slightly.

“…Explain.”

Danny gestures vaguely behind them. “Oh yeah, your grandpa’s got, like, a whole knife thing going on.”

From the chamber they just exited—

A calm voice carries.

“You speak as though you object.”

They all turn.

Ra's al Ghul steps into the corridor like he’s been there the entire time.

Because he probably has.

Hands clasped behind his back.

Composed.

Watching.

Batman straightens.

The temperature drops ten degrees.

“Ra’s.”

“Detective.”

Danny looks between them.

“…Okay, wow, the tension here is insane. Is this like a rivals thing or—”

“Fenton,” Damian snaps.

Danny zips it.

For about two seconds.

Then—

“So are we leaving or are we doing the dramatic stare-off? Because I can do either, I just need to mentally prepare.”

Batman does not take his eyes off Ra’s.

“Damian. Extract the civilian.”

“I have been attempting to.”

Danny leans toward Batman, stage-whispering, “He means I don’t follow instructions.”

“I am aware,” Batman says flatly.

Ra’s studies Danny again.

Openly now.

“You see it, Detective.”

It’s not a question.

Batman’s gaze flicks—just once—to Danny.

Something unreadable passes behind the cowl.

“…Yes.”

Danny points between them. “See what? Are we talking about me? I feel like we’re talking about me.”

No one answers.

That’s never a good sign.

Ra’s takes a step forward.

“Leave the boy.”

Damian’s sword is out in an instant.

“No.”

Batman’s cape shifts—subtle, but final.

“We’re done here.”

Danny raises a hand again.

“Counter-suggestion: we all just… don’t fight? I feel like that would really improve everyone’s evening.”

Ra’s almost smiles.

“An appealing thought.”

A beat.

“Declined.”

The assassins move.

Fast. Silent. Surrounding.

Damian shifts into stance.

Batman doesn’t move.

Doesn’t need to.

Danny looks around at the forming circle.

“…Okay, so this is a fighting thing. Got it.”

One assassin lunges—

—and Danny steps sideways.

Casual.

Too casual.

The blade slices through where he was—

—or should have been.

For half a second—

he flickers.

Not gone.

Not there.

Wrong.

Batman sees it.

Of course he does.

Files it away instantly.

The assassin hesitates.

Danny pats him on the shoulder. “Hey, quick tip? Aim a little to the left next time.”

Damian stares.

“…You phased.”

Danny blinks. “I what?”

Another assassin attacks—

—and Danny just…

lets it happen.

The blade sinks into his side.

Batman moves.

Damian moves.

Too late.

Danny looks down.

“…Again?”

He pulls it out with a wince.

The wound seals.

Right in front of them.

Silence.

Even the assassins freeze.

Batman’s voice is very, very quiet.

“…You’re healing.”

Danny shrugs. “Yeah, it does that.”

Damian turns slowly.

“You knew.”

Batman doesn’t answer.

Which is an answer.

Ra’s exhales softly.

Satisfied.

“Now you understand, Detective.”

Danny points at himself. “Okay seriously, what do I understand? Because everyone’s acting like I missed a meeting.”

Batman steps forward.

Places himself—deliberately—between Danny and Ra’s.

Protective.

Final.

“Conversation’s over.”

Danny leans around him. “Wait, does that mean we’re leaving? Because I would love that for us.”

Damian grabs his arm again.

“This time,” he mutters, “you will follow.”

Danny grins. “No promises.”

Batman deploys a smoke charge.

The corridor floods with black.

Movement.

Precision.

Exit route carved in seconds.

As they retreat—

Ra’s voice follows.

Calm. Certain.

“This is not finished.”

Danny coughs in the smoke. “Yeah, you guys keep saying that, it’s kind of ominous—”

They burst out into open night.

Wind. Space. Freedom.

Damian doesn’t stop moving.

Batman scans the perimeter.

Then—

finally—

he looks at Danny.

Really looks.

“You’re not a normal metahuman,” he says.

Danny rocks back on his heels. “Bold of you to assume I’m normal anything.”

A beat.

Batman: “We’re going to talk.”

Danny: “…Is this a ‘I’m in trouble’ talk or a ‘you’re joining the team’ talk?”

Damian: “You are not joining anything.”

Danny: “Wow, rude.”

Batman turns away.

“Move.”

They vanish into Gotham’s skyline.

Behind them—

high in the shadows—

Ra’s watches.

Smiling.

And unseen by all but one—

a faint crunch.

Danny glances back.

Grins.

Danny is still spinning.

Not fast.

Just enough to be annoying.

Damian is still glaring.

Not subtly.

Just enough to be threatening.

Batman is at the console, pulling up scans that make absolutely no sense.

“Cellular cohesion inconsistent,” he mutters. “Energy readings—nonstandard.”

Danny leans over the back of his chair.

“Hey, if it helps, most doctors just give up.”

“That does not help.”

“Worth a shot.”

Footsteps.

Measured.

Unhurried.

The kind that do not belong to anyone who fears what they might find in a cave full of vigilantes and questionable life choices.

Danny perks up.

“Ooo, new person?”

From the shadows—like he’s always been there—

Alfred Pennyworth appears, carrying a tray.

Of course he is.

There is tea.

There are sandwiches.

Because naturally there are.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says smoothly, “I noticed the sudden increase in medical supply usage and assumed either a particularly rough patrol… or a guest.”

His gaze shifts.

Lands on Danny.

Takes him in.

Disheveled. Bloodstained. Bright-eyed. Sitting like he owns the place.

There’s a pause.

A very small one.

“…Ah,” Alfred says.

Danny beams. “Hi! I’m Danny.”

Alfred inclines his head. “Of course you are.”

Damian steps forward immediately. “He is not a guest.”

Danny points at the tray. “There are snacks. That feels like guest behavior.”

“He was kidnapped.”

“And then un-kidnapped. Growth.”

Alfred sets the tray down.

Calm. Precise.

“Master Damian,” he says gently, “if the young man is no longer restrained, no longer under duress, and currently being offered tea…”

A beat.

“…he is, by definition, a guest.”

Damian opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Because.

Unfortunately.

That is airtight logic.

Danny leans toward Alfred, stage whisper:

“I like him.”

“I gathered,” Alfred replies.

He picks up a cup.

Hands it to Danny.

Danny accepts it like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Thanks!”

He takes a sip.

Pauses.

Eyes widen.

“…Okay, wait. This is amazing.”

Alfred allows himself the slightest hint of a smile.

“Freshly brewed.”

Batman turns.

“…Alfred.”

There’s a warning there.

A this is an active interrogation kind of warning.

Alfred does not even remotely care.

“Yes, sir?”

“This is not—”

“A hostile situation?” Alfred glances at Danny, who is now happily eating a sandwich. “I would disagree.”

Danny raises a finger, mouth full. “I mean, there was stabbing earlier.”

Alfred hums. “And yet you appear quite intact.”

“Oh yeah, I heal.”

Damian cuts in, frustrated, “Rapidly. From lethal injuries.”

Alfred’s gaze sharpens—just slightly.

He sets the tray down fully now.

“Is that so?”

Danny nods. “Yeah! Super convenient. Highly recommend.”

“You died,” Damian snaps.

Danny shrugs. “Briefly.”

Alfred stills.

Not dramatic.

Just… attentive.

“…I see.”

Batman watches him.

He knows that look.

Alfred steps closer to Danny.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to Danny’s shoulder.

Danny brightens. “Oh! Yeah, sure.”

He tugs his collar aside.

There’s a faint mark—barely there—where a blade had gone clean through him not long ago.

Alfred studies it.

Gentle.

Careful.

Not clinical.

Not like Bruce.

More like—

…someone checking a child for injuries after a fall.

“Does it hurt?” Alfred asks.

Danny blinks.

Caught off guard.

“…Not really?”

“That was not the question.”

Danny hesitates.

“…It did,” he admits. “At the time.”

Alfred nods once.

Like that answers something important.

He straightens.

“Well then,” he says lightly, “we shall have to ensure you are not stabbed again this evening.”

Damian makes an incredulous noise.

“That is not the priority—”

“It is a priority, Master Damian.”

“It is Gotham,” Damian argues. “Stabbing is statistically—”

“—avoidable with proper supervision.”

Danny perks up. “Wait, am I being supervised now?”

Alfred looks at him.

Warm. Certain.

“Yes.”

Batman exhales slowly.

“…Alfred.”

“This young man,” Alfred continues, ignoring him entirely, “has experienced a traumatic event, displays highly irregular physiology, and—”

Danny raises a hand.

“Also I haven’t had dinner.”

Alfred nods. “—and is clearly in need of a proper meal.”

Damian throws his hands up. “We are not feeding the anomaly!”

Danny gasps. “Rude.”

Alfred turns to Damian.

Calm.

Unshakable.

“Master Damian,” he says, “you brought him here.”

Damian freezes.

“…I extracted him.”

“And in doing so,” Alfred replies smoothly, “you assumed responsibility.”

A beat.

Damian hates that.

Because it’s true.

Danny leans over to Batman.

“Is he always like this?”

Batman, after a long pause:

“…Yes.”

Danny nods approvingly. “Nice.”

Alfred picks up the tray again.

“Now then,” he says, “Master Danny—”

Danny lights up instantly.

“You may call me Alfred.”

“…Oh, we’re doing first names? Bold. I like it.”

“—you will come with me.”

Danny stands immediately.

No hesitation.

No suspicion.

Just trust.

Damian stares.

“…You are just going with him.”

Danny shrugs. “He has snacks.”

Valid.

Alfred gestures toward the stairs.

“Something warm, I think. And perhaps less… violent company.”

Danny glances back at Batman and Damian.

“Yeah, that tracks.”

He follows Alfred without a second thought.

Halfway up the stairs, he turns.

“Hey!”

They both look.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Danny says, “how much trouble am I in?”

Batman: “Undetermined.”

Damian: “Ten.”

Danny grins. “Cool.”

And disappears up the stairs with Alfred.

Silence settles over the cave.

Damian crosses his arms.

“…We are not keeping him.”

Batman watches the empty stairway.

Thinking.

Calculating.

Re-evaluating everything.

“…No,” he says slowly.

A beat.

“…We’re not.”

Upstairs—

faintly—

Danny’s voice echoes:

“WAIT, YOU HAVE COOKIES TOO??”

Alfred, somewhere behind him:

“Indeed.”

Batman closes his eyes.

Just briefly.

This is going to get worse ,