Chapter Text
Danny had no one to impress.
He did not have to impress.
Though certainly, he was a part of this world, he didn’t belong here. Danny was just a bystander. A spectator. A visitor from another reality that wasn’t allowed to leave.
He could, if he wanted to, just retreat into the Ghost Zone and spend the rest of his eternity there.
But he was still half-human. Infallibly so.
Even if there was no one left that remembered him as Danny Fenton , he was still Danny , and Danny ached for a place to call Home almost as much as he feared the pain of it.
So in the human world he stayed and lived and loved.
He stayed for his mother. He stayed for Damian.
But just because he chose to stay doesn’t mean that others would let him stay.
He could see it. Feel it . The bright-awkward-eagerness of the room instantly dissipated into a wary tension the second the al Ghul name left Damian's mouth. Their gaze shifted into something more. More calculating. More cautious. They evaluated him not as Damian’s mysterious friend but as a member of the League of Assassins. An Enemy .
Jason barging in moments after— and wasn’t that a nice surprise, Danny never found out what became of him after Jason left the League— was a welcome distraction. He could use it to get away. All he needed to do was keep talking long enough until he could maneuver himself out of the door and sink into the ground. It wouldn’t make the best impression on Damian’s family. And Damian would be so pissed at him afterward. But Danny would rather take that than accidentally say or do the wrong thing and get himself landed on the bats’ shit list .
Danny didn’t want to make Damian choose between him and his father.
So a tactical retreat it was.
But then Tim Drake just had to open his goddamn mouth.
“Jason, you know him? Wait, no— Damian just called him his brother, which means he’s Talia’s son which means—” Tim’s hands stopped fidgeting, eyes bulging as he looked at Danny once more. “Holy shit, that means your Bruce’s son .”
“Language,” the butler— Pennyworth— said. More out of habit than any real offense at the word.
Damian raised an imperious brow. “That’s generally what the term ‘brother’ implies, Drake.”
Bruce’s face remained inscrutable.
Stephane tried to diffuse the tension with a forced laugh. “Another one, B, really?”
“Technically I was the first,” Danny said. They kept looking at him. He should be used to this, he doesn’t know why he was so unnerved by it all. He had centuries of experience being in the spotlight, this should be nothing . But he didn’t want to mess this up for Damian. Didn’t want to mess this up for him . He didn’t want Damian’s family to look at him and see an enemy. An interloper. Another chain for Talia to tie Bruce to her.
Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. Where the fuck did his confidence from earlier go to? He’d like that back, please. Like, right now . “I’m not—” He slowly inched his way back towards the door. Damian was staring at him, confused and worried. Danny only hoped that his own eyes were sending the right amount of I’m-fine-I-need-to-leave-I-fucked-up-ok messages back. “It’s just— I’m not here to claim that title or anything, I just, um, came here because Damian asked me to and so that you guys would stop stalking me— because seriously, that’s creepy.”
Jason was fucking blocking the door .
Since when the fuck did Jason even bulk up that much?
Subtly, Danny took out the smoke pellets he kept in his pockets.
“Brother?” Damian asked.
Danny gave him a weak smile. “I’m— I’m sorry to cut this short, I know you were looking forward to it. It’s just that I…have…an appointment in, uh, Paris! Yeah, Paris. I have to be there in, like, less than an hour and I don’t want to be late. So…I’ll see you soon?”
“Danny what are you—”
The smoke pellets hit the ground with a loud bang . Thick black smoke began spewing out, giving Danny adequate cover to transform and sink under the floors.
When he emerged, five miles away from Wayne Manor, he buried his face in his hands and wondered at what the hell he was trying to do.
“Danny wait— ” Damian lunged towards the smoke, but Grayson held him back. Pulled Damian tight towards his chest despite Damian’s struggling.
“Damian— Damian stop. He’s gone.”
“No he’s not, he promised he would stay—”
The smoke dissipated and there was no one there. Danny left. Left him .
Jason loosened from his defensive stance, looking over his shoulders, askance. “What the— How did he just disappear? No one went past me!”
Damian finally managed to shove himself away from Grayson and whirled around. The others were still tense, knees bent, hands brandished with whatever improvised weapon they had. Drake even held a vase high above his head, ready to smash it down if need be.
Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Tim, if you would please gently set that vase back down onto the table, it’s an antique.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry, Alfie.”
Damian bared his teeth, hands bunching into fists. “This is all you r fault.”
Grayson furrowed his eyebrows. “ Our fault? We didn’t do anything?”
“Well, you must have done something to set him off! He wouldn’t have left otherwise!”
“Woah, woah.” Jason stepped in between them. “As much as I’d find it funny to see you guys beat each other up, can someone explain what’s going on to the person who just got here?”
“Ooh! Ooh!” Brown raised her hand. “I got this! Ok so, Damian’s mysterious friend turned out to be his older brother, which means that he’s also Talia’s son, meaning that he’s also a part of the League of Assassins— and that he’s Bruce’s kid.”
“Ok but here’s another question.” Tim looked at Jason. “How do you know this Danny guy?”
Jason shrugged. “I knew him when I was with the League, but I thought he was just another one of their members, not an al Ghul. Talia assigned Danny as my teacher, and the guy basically wiped the floor with me.”
“Him? Really?” Dick asked. “The guy looked like he’d weigh 120 pounds soaking wet.”
Damian bristled. “Do not underestimate my brother, Grayson. He is the best the League has ever produced.” And he would come back. Danny would come back.
Finally, finally , his stone-faced father spoke. “Damian.”
There was something— something in his father’s eyes that Damian couldn’t describe. Did not have the words to do so. His face was still inscrutable, but Damian could hear the way his voice became hoarse and could see the white-knuckled grip of his fists. “Damian,” Father said again. “Didn’t you say that brother was dead?”
(A bang. Danny’s head hitting the floor. Blood seeping through the clothes, blood on his hands, blood in his mouth. “You’re my brother.”)
“He was,” Damian said. “We thought him dead, and deader still when the Lazarus pit wouldn’t revive him. But— it turns out it did , but not in the usual way.”
“Explain, Damian.”
“I don’t—” he shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it, or if I’m even allowed to. It’s not my story to tell.”
Danny wasn’t exactly lying when he said he needed to go to Paris. He just didn’t need to go to Paris right now . But he panicked and that was the first thing that came to mind. So he might as well do the thing he said he would do so that it could lessen the amount of guilt he felt for just leaving Damian.
God, he wasn’t even making sense to himself .
He landed in an empty alleyway in Paris, checking for cameras before de-transforming. “Stupid, Fenton, stupid.” He ran his hands through his hair, pacing from one brick wall to the other. “God that could have gone so much better.”
Exactly how it could have gone better, Danny didn’t know. But certainly, anything could have been better than— that .
Damian was going to kill him when he went back.
But… if Danny didn’t screw up this conversation, maybe his mother won’t decide to kill him, too.
He’s gotten used to dying; still didn’t change the fact that it hurt .
After a brief phone call to an unlisted phone number, and five different code words to prove his identity and clearance level, Danny left a message for Talia to meet him at one of their lesser-used Parisian safehouses.
After his restoration as a half-ghost, Danny’s first priority had always been Damian, but he kept track of the League’s movements whenever he could. And to his knowledge, they were still in Paris.
The safehouse was a fully furnished apartment, not too close to the center of Paris but not far enough away that it would be in the outskirts. There was a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom, and all other living necessities. If one didn’t know where to look, it would appear to be another normal apartment.
Hidden behind false walls and secret cabinets were enough materials to turn the bedroom into an infirmary, weapons, foreign currency, and forged passports. But Danny didn’t need any of those right now. Instead, he went to the kitchen that one of the League’s members always kept in stock, and rummaged around for something warm to drink.
He laid a packet of hot chocolate powder on the kitchen counter and set some water to boil in the kettle, and waited.
When his mother found him, he was sitting in the living room, a steaming mug clutched in his hands, and eyes staring at a blank spot in the wall.
“My son,” she said. And god , the way her voice broke made Danny feel even more like a piece of shit.
He set the mug down onto the coffee table and stood up. “Hello, mother. I’m— I’m back.”
She opened her arms and Danny nearly flew into them. He held onto her like a lifeline, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. She enveloped him in her embrace, fingers carding through his hair.
“Oh, habibi, let me look at you.” She cradled his face, and Danny could feel the warm pads of her thumbs brushing his cheek. She angled his head from side to side, inspecting it for any sign of harm. She reminded him of mom, sometimes. Maybe all mothers were just like that. “You have not changed a bit.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, my son. It is not.” Her brows furrowed, eyes clouded with worry. “But tell me, what became of you? The Lazarus Pit— it didn’t work.”
The League taught Danny how to lie and how to lie well, but that skill always failed when it came to his family. Talia would spot his fibs from a mile away, but Danny refused to tell her the truth. He loved his mother. That didn’t change the fact that he didn’t trust her. Couldn’t trust her not to take advantage of what he is.
So instead, he told her half-truths and hoped that it would be enough to satiate her curiosity. Talia had always been less interested in the ‘why’s, anyway. Keener to know how exactly something would benefit her.
“It did work. Eventually.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The Pit— it kept me. I don’t exactly know how to explain it to you. Just, one minute, one eternity, I was floating in a sea of green, and in the next, I was waking up in a different Lazarus Pit, alone.”
“Danyal, my son. How brave you are to even fight off death itself.” She tilted her hair. “But tell me, why did you not contact me as soon as you awoke?”
“I don’t have any excuse for that, I’m sorry. It’s only that— my mind felt clouded . I wasn’t entirely myself. I was…angrier. More rash. And above all, fearful for Damian.”
“Your brother?”
“Last I saw him, he was at the end of Deathstroke’s gun . I— I had to find him. I had to make sure he was ok. That he was safe.”
“And that led you to Gotham.” Her grip on his shoulders tightened. “To your father.”
Danny nodded. “Though I reunited with Damian a few weeks ago, I only officially met father—” the word left a strange taste in his mouth “—earlier today.” He let out a sharp laugh. “You would be so disappointed in me. I ran out of that meeting with my tail between my legs. I left Damian there, alone , and flew halfway across the world because—”
He lowered his head. “Well. I don’t know why . I was afraid that I would…mess up? Ruin it for Damian? I don’t even know anymore.”
“Oh Danyal, I could never be disappointed in you.”
Mother had always been the best of liars. It was too bad Danny had enough practice seeing right through them. “You have. Been disappointed in me, I mean. Isn’t that why you had Damian?’
Mother didn’t flinch. Danny didn’t expect her to. It was not exactly a secret amongst the League that, while Danny was one of their best, Ra’s al Ghul had always sensed something off with him. A hesitation where there should be none. A lackadaisical nature when Danny should be driven .
She stepped back. “Do you resent me?”
“You’re my mother. I love you.”
She smiled sadly. “You will not be returning back to the League, I take it.”
“Damian needs me.”
“He has his father now, as well as my beloved’s other children.” At Danny’s resolute gaze, she backed down. “You are a good brother.”
“But I’m a terrible son.”
“No, you’re a terrible heir ,” mother replied. “There is a difference, no matter how slight.” She patted his cheek and pulled him in for one more crushing hug. “But you are still young, yet. Perhaps one day you will change your mind. Be rest assured that there will always be a place for you in the League.”
This was a goodbye. Not for long, maybe, but a goodbye still.
“Take care, mother.”
It was twilight when Damian received a call from an unlisted number. He’s alone in his room, the last vestiges of sunlight casting long shadows on the floor.
He pressed the phone to his ear. “Where are you?”
There’s a pause. A mournful exhale. “In Paris.”
“ Tt . At least you didn’t lie.”
“Well, on the bright side, mother knows I’m alive.”
Damian turned away from the window, back pressed towards the glass. His fingers drummed against the window pains, a steady rat-tat-tat-tat that filled the silence of the room.
“You left.”
“I know.”
“You left me .”
“...I know.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I…don’t know. The nerves got to me, I guess.”
He huffed. Crossed his arms. “Thought you said that you had no one to impress.”
“I was wrong.” He could hear the shifting of fabric through the line. “ I realized that too late, and I became— anxious.”
“Anxious about what?”
“They’re your family Damian. I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”
“ They can be your family too—”
“No, they can’t. And I don’t really want them to be.”
What? That doesn’t—
Damian wrapped his arms around himself, shoulders hunched, eyes glued to the floor. “What about me then?”
“ What?”
“Am I not your family, now?”
“No!” The adamant refusal sent a shock of relief through Damian. “No. Never think that. You’re my brother Damian. Always will be. It’s just that—”
“That?”
Another sigh. Sharper, this time. Frustrated. He could envision Danny on the other end, pacing whatever room he locked himself in, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re your family.”
“As you’ve already iterated.”
“No, Damian, you don’t— When Bruce took you in officially as his son there were…Documents. Paperwork. Legal proceedings. An identity was made, a cover story was written, and when it was all over there was a nice and shiny announcement in the society pages and an interview with some reputable newspaper.”
Damian knew that. He was there for all of it. It was annoying and tedious and utterly exhausting at times, but the end result was worth it. Because his father recognized him. Recognized Damian as his son .
“You are Damian Wayne, now,” Danny said. “To the world, you have and always will be Damian Wayne. To the world— Damian al Ghul never really existed. And neither does his older brother.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“Heh. That’s okay, squirt. You don’t have to. It’s…It’s something that I have to deal with.”
Silence.
Damian cleared his throat. “Father will want to talk to you.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Will you…come back?”
“Damian…I know that there’s still a lot that I haven’t told you about what I am— about who I am. But if there’s anything that I want you to know, it’s this: You’re my brother and I love you, and I will always come back to you.”
But the world was large and the universe even more so. To ‘come back’ meant that Danny also had to leave.
But maybe, for now, Danny’s promise was enough.