The Forever Knight Art

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.