Heo! Hi! I'm up here today! And it's still Sunday right? Yeah? I promised I'd update Sunday so hErE it iS at 11:57 p.m. cuz I can do things on tIMe just aSk my cOlleGe profEssoRs. Anywho I did mean for this to be out last Sunday but then life happened and things exploded and I wanted to die but I liVed to give you guys 20,000+ words in a sIngLe chaPter.

That's right. This is my longest chapter. I'm going to break Wattpad one day, I'm honestly kinda worried cuz the text is being delayed pretty badly as I'm writing this.

ANYWAY

This chapter had a LOT more Dick and Bruce fluff than I originally planned but I assume no one would ever say no to that so YAY FLUFF ADDED LIKE... 3,000 EXTRA WORDS TO THIS.

I was also this friggin close to splitting this chapter into two but there's literally nOwhere good to stop so yeah, big scene is big! And I guess there is technically one spot that would be pretty good but it would be severely uneven, like 15,000 one chap and 5,000 the other and I cannot in good conscious do that.

Lol and to think I was gunna keep this in chapter 11. Smh.

Anywho! Enjoy 20,586 words of Dannyangst and Daddybats and Mommabird Robin!

Also idk if this is obvious or not yet, but the first half of this fic is mainly recovery, but plot is still going on, it gets a lot more plotty in the second half. If anyone remembers that's kinda how it was in the first one too, but this time recovery is longer because heck yeah I love recovery fics and that's prolly why y'all are reading this now. For me it's the perfect blend of fluff and angst and then throw a little plot in is just 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

ONWARDDSSS

Bruce was an idiot. Plain and simple.

Why did he think it was a good idea to leave the extremely traumatized nine-year-old with his thirteen-year-old alone in a giant house when it had been attacked. TWICE.

Point being, Bruce wasn't going anywhere for the next year if his family's safety had anything to say about it. Alfred had been hurt twice, he nearly suffocated the first kidnapping attempt and then got shot a bunch of times in the second one. Dick was cranky because the GIW got away AND his room was practically destroyed. Their ID's were compromised by an enemy and the manor and its grounds were in a sad state of disarray. But all of that had to be put on hold because Danny was having some sort of breakdown under the dining table.

Bruce had never felt so stupid. Even as both Batman and Bruce he was utterly and completely useless to help this ailing child. He refused to continue to be so helpless, but Dick's information on the kid was... confusing, to say the least.

"He can... see emotions?" Bruce asked slowly, still not quite understanding his son who was both mentally and physically maxed out for the day.

He and his pseudo-family were gathered in the kitchen. Alfred was gently stirring a soup at the stove despite Bruce's protests ("I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my boys Master Bruce.") while Dick paced and Bruce (in civies) leaned against the counter. Danny's cries could be faintly heard from the other room, and it disturbed Bruce how quiet it was even though the boy must be in so much pain.

Dick huffed and rubbed his face with what Bruce decided was a groan as he turned around to walk briskly back and forth. "Yes, he calls them cores. It's a circle that swirls and it has colors that mean feelings."

Bruce was having a hard time processing that. Or maybe he didn't, he knew empaths and magic users were a thing but this seemed different. Bruce struggled to find words that would accurately explain his confusion, a hand lifting and his mouth opening, but the silence that dragged on spoke for him.

"He knows what you're feeling whether you want him to or not," The acrobat explained tiredly, "It's not that complicated actually, they're simple colors that explain simple emotions, but if he sees red in a core it means the person is angry. You probably just scared him because you were mad at the GIW. We'd both probably scare him if he saw us right now."

"Alright... so we convince him we're not angry at him." Bruce finally said something productive. Danny should feel comforted they were mad at the GIW right? He would know they were there to protect him.

Even if they've failed so far. Bruce could feel Alfred's gaze slide over him and he could just feel the 'Good heavens, Master Bruce, what devil possessed you to leave the suffering boy alone?' Bruce felt the stab of guilt twist in his gut when he realized Alfred had meant Dick.

Dick didn't look relieved at the plan, instead, he rubbed at his eyes and sighed again. "That would work... if Danny actually believed what we said."

Bruce opened his mouth to counter that, but really, what did he know? Bruce needed to stop assuming things and actually gather the right intel, intel he had so unwittingly left for his ward to gather on top of babysitting the same traumatized kid he was grilling.

"He doesn't?" Bruce prompted instead, wincing as even that felt wrong to say. Dick didn't like it either.

"Of course he doesn't!" Dick threw his hands up while he whisper-yelled, desperately trying not to actually yell in case it set Danny off even more in the next room. "The GIW messed up his mind so bad! Bruce..."

The teen sighed again and wrapped his arms around himself in some sort of self-hug. He stepped towards the big man and Bruce reached out to snag his shoulder and pull him in close.

Bruce hugged with one arm as he ruffled the boy's ebony hair with the other, a soothing action that had worked on him many occasions. Dick wasn't crying, but his voice sounded waterlogged when he spoke into Bruce's shirt. "He wanted me to hit him... because it made the GIW happy and he thought it would make me happy too. He refused to use the bathroom until I convinced him it was okay... He wasn't even granted basic human— wasn't even allowed— he was punished for basic human necessities. H-he thinks everything is an experiment he's being evaluated for. Like... like if we don't like the results we'll stop being nice to him. We had to do surgery on the wound in his leg because it had weird debris in it that was hurting him. He thought it was an experiment meant to punish him and that we weren't going to be nice anymore. He expects to be hurt every time someone's attention is on him, every time we're in the same room or even if I just look at him. B-but it didn't matter what I said... he wouldn't believe me and- and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do and you weren't there. You weren't there Bruce."

Out of the trauma they had together, people they've failed together, the tragedy that was Dick's parents fall they saw together. Dick was alone this time. Bruce wasn't there.

You weren't there Bruce.

You didn't see how terrified he was.

I did.

And I was alone.

"I'm so sorry Dick," Bruce spoke reverently, holding his boy closer. Bruce was such an idiot. Shame shivered down his spine along with resolve. This would not be happening again. He wanted to ask for details, especially about that impromptu surgery, but Bruce knew this was not the time. "I shouldn't have left you alone with him. He's too much—"

"No! Bruce, we have to keep him!" Dick said quickly, the harsh words cutting off the rest of his sentence. The acrobat pulled back to look up at his adopted father, azure eyes wet and urgent as he gripped the man's shirt. "I don't care if he's too much! We have to take care of him, no one else is going to be able to!"

"Calm down," Bruce said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and gently squeezing. "He's not going anywhere. I meant he's too much for a thirteen-year-old. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help when you needed it."

Something was to be said for how often Bruce said sorry, it was actually a lot more than what most people believed. Bruce was sorry for a lot of things. He was sorry his parents died, he was sorry he made Alfred go through trying to raise him through all of his crazy stages of grief (and the stages he added). He was sorry he had to worry Alfred and put himself in danger every night for the good of the city. He was sorry there were evil people in the world, downright insane people hellbent on causing chaos and pain to anyone and everyone. He was sorry for the people in terrible situations, the hungry ones, the hurting ones, the ones he couldn't save. He was sorry for Dick, whos parents were ripped away from him just like Bruce's. He was sorry he wasn't able to save them, sorry he failed his goal to help people so they didn't become like him. He was sorry for his haphazard parenting skills that consisted of listening to Alfred and Leslie and a few dozen parenting books he got his hands on. He was sorry the government was corrupted, sorry there were people who abuse their power, sorry that their twisted minds enjoyed other people's pain. He was sorry for every bit of pain Danny was in right now. He was sorry for every scar that graced the boy's fragile skin.

Bruce didn't vocalize that much, a habit that started when he was small and his parents just died. It grew into a defense mechanism to look confidant and spooky as Batman once he was older, but it had already ingrained into his psyche. He was Bruce for awhile before Batman, he just let it take its course while in the cowl (not that he reined it in much anyways— so Alfred tells him). This piece of him grew up all wrong, his rationality twisting when it was necessary to say sorry or even recognize moments like those. Luckily he had people like Alfred (bless that man) and Diana and Clark who could set him straight when he was out of line.

This time Bruce had no problem apologizing, in fact he found himself saying it (twice!) before he even registered the words. And once he did he found he didn't care, Dick needed this. He could feel Alfred's approval from the stove and Bruce couldn't help but smile a little.

Dick's worried face softened, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Bruce's chest. "Well, I don't accept your apology," Dick said, tone as light as Bruce had heard it all day.

"Yeah?" Bruce ruffled the boy's hair again, "I don't deserve it."

Dick's embrace squeezed around Bruce's middle, almost to the point of pain. A small smile tugged at Bruce's lips as he shifted his hands down around his ward to hug back just as tight. Bruce's head even arced down, resting his cheek against the boy's ebony hair as he slightly swayed from side to side.

"I don't deserve you," Bruce mumbled, slightly muffled by half his face being pressed against the boy's head. He hugged a touch harder for a moment, finding this to be one of the rare times he actually enjoyed a long tight embrace.

"Don- s-rangle m-," Dick's muffled voice came from Bruce's shirt.

The man chuckled softly and unlatched his arms, but Dick's stayed firm around his gut. This was usually the moment Dick would pull away as well, knowing Bruce had his hug quota filled for the next week (an exaggeration... maybe). Dick would siphon as many hugs as he could from Bruce, but he was also determined that Bruce should enjoy them too, so it wasn't often he'd stay latched for longer than Bruce could take it. This time Dick stayed, and Bruce didn't push him away. Dick needed this. Bruce raked his fingers through his ward's hair, laying a gently heavy hand on the nape of his neck.

"He's scared of touching," Dick said into his shirt, the implications of that statement staring Bruce in the face. "A-and long periods of time together. Th-the GIW left him alone when they weren't hurting him... so he thinks he about to get hurt when we're with him. B-but he's even more scared of our kindness because he doesn't know how to give us what we're demanding of him. A-and-" Dick's face nuzzled into Bruce's shirt, arms tightening just a fraction. "...He's just so scared! How are we going to help him, Dad?"

Bruce's rubbing hand stopped for a split second, his cobalt eyes shooting up towards Alfred just to be sure he heard right. Alfred was smiling, still stirring his pot of warm soup.

Bruce blinked a few times, taking in a deep breath as he rubbed his boy's back and gently hugged him again. Dick definitely needed this, despite Bruce's growing itching feeling of needing his own space. "We'll figure it out together this time, no one is doing this alone, especially you or Danny."

Bruce nearly started squirming, which for Bruce 'nearly squirming' was his equivalent of writhing. He played it off as a shrug, hands ghosting instead of holding as his skin prickled with unease. "So besides the core thing, any pointers for calming him down?"

Dick finally extracted himself, having felt Bruce's discomfort and shot a look up to the man that said 'I'm plotting for snuggles later'. Bruce let a small smile slip, he really was so lucky. Bruce wouldn't deny him when the time came, but right now they had work to do.

Dick took a deep breath and swiped at his nose with a hand, only to have Alfred offer a tissue box. Dick garbled a thanks as he blew his nose, commenting dryly (or maybe not so dryly if his leaking nose had anything to say about it) "Ugh, I hate crying. It's like suddenly my face decides to combust in a giant gross booger bomb." He blew once more into a kleenex as Bruce's smile only quirked. The boy sniffed inward, the sound telling of more congestion and Dick groaned. "Oh, you know what Bruce? We should collect this stuff, put it into an actual bomb, then at the galas we could slip it into that one guy's drink, Jack Drake? Yeah, he's an arse, then he'll have to leave because of some sudden nasal issues."

Bruce actually chuckled at that, shaking his head as he imagined the ever self-important Jack Drake spouting apologies as he rushes out the door, desperate not to ruin his image with snot that had exploded all over his face. "That's diabolical Dick, you should save that for someone who deserves it, like Penguin."

That made Dick smile, though it was cut off by another blow of his nose into a new tissue. He finally wiped his nose and sighed, somber air returning as the quiet was broken by the faint sound of Danny's crying. "Speak Romanian, he doesn't understand English well enough for effective calming. He likes physical barriers, which is why he's under the table where he knows we won't reach for him. And you should praise him a lot because..." Suddenly the acrobat was blinking tears from his eyes and he grunted angrily as he hid his face behind another kleenex.

Bruce frowned, a new claw of shame and guilt sinking into his soul. Dick should never have been here alone with Danny, Bruce should have expected retaliation from the GIW. While it was true, Dick was growing up, beating his own bad guys with his team all on his own. But this, this was too much for him. The emotional stress for caring for anyone with severe trauma was intense at best, at worst it gave its own form of trauma. Dick was only 13, he was mature for a 13-year-old, losing one's parents often lost one's childhood innocence as well. But that was no excuse, that didn't mean he didn't have limits. Bruce had limits, no matter how much Gotham tried to prove otherwise.

Bruce reached forward, not to hug, but to brush his hand against his ward's shoulder, Dick's red eyes looking up to meet Bruce's. "It's alright, we can handle this," Bruce said softly and with as much conviction as he could put into soft words. "Danny is going to be okay."

Dick swiped at his eyes again, blinking rapidly and nodding silently.

"I'm going to go in there now. You need some rest, you've had a long day," Bruce said with another pat of his hand, the Bruce equivalent of another hug. His tone was dismissive, suggesting the boy tap out and let Bruce handle this because it was clear the acrobat was at the end of his rope.

"It's not even lunch yet..." Dick argued in a mumble as he looked down. Bruce noted Dick wasn't fully fighting him yet, a testament of the boy's tiredness. The kid had been through too much in the past 12 hours and it showed. Bruce was sure he could blow on the boy and he'd tip over and not even complain. He'd probably just snuggle against the ground or even latch onto Bruce's feet like he had when he was younger to avoid going to bed. Bruce almost smiled at the mental image of a small nine-year-old Dick Grayson under his desk, curled up against his legs and fast asleep because the tiny hero was adamant he could stay up just as long as Bruce could.

Dick had grown out of that habit, his introduction to the vigilante world giving him ample reason to look forward to his bedand fight with different tactics if he wanted to abstain.

"Correction," Alfred sprang into the conversation with an extra loud bubbling of boiling homemade chicken noodle soup, "It is thirty-four minutes past lunchtime and I'd rather you all have full stomachs and patched up wounds."

"But Danny—"

"Him as well Master Dick, which I have no doubt the two of you can manage him while I tend to him. Right, Master Bruce?" Alfred's raised eyebrow of expectation pointed at the billionaire and the man nodded quickly.

"Of course."

"Then I suggest you get started, or I fear lunch may get cold." Alfred huffed. Alfred would never actually do that, he cared too much (especially about bone-thin Danny), but the prompt for haste was not wasted on Bruce.

"Right." Bruce turned slightly and looked at his ward. "You sure you want to come Dick?" The boy's tears had dried up but he still looked worse for wear.

And still, he nodded. His head lifted and he put on a strained smile, snarky voice returning but even that sounded hollow. "You said no one was doing this alone B, we're partners remember?"

Bruce chuckled lightly, smiling fondly as he ruffled the boy's hair again. "Alright. Together then."

Keeping Dick's advice in mind, Bruce attempted to calm himself before he went into the dining room. Laughing with Dick definitely helped, though he wasn't sure if that showed in his... core... however that worked. The detective made a mini-plan in his head, making sure to hit all the points Dick talked about. Like calming a civilian after a near brush with death, this was doable.

Bruce made his way into the dining room, walking on the outskirts of the table until he could find the best place to sit down and talk with the child underneath. He gently moved some chairs out of the way, noticing the change in Danny's cries when it was evident someone was with him. Whines had added into the cries, it was quieter but had a quality of begging in it that crying lacked.

Dick came in behind Bruce, wide-eyed but determined as he sat down first. The acrobat sat oddly, legs splayed in what Bruce knew was uncomfortable position fro someone like himself but Dick's bendable body handled it fine. Bruce sat down as well, sitting criss-cross so it was clear he wouldn't be able to move quickly.

Bruce took a deep calming breath and looked over to Dick with Danny's hybrid cry-whining in the background. Bruce hated that it wasn't actually that loud, that it was so broken and scared. It was hard to listen to, even if Bruce himself had heard countless people crying in his vigilante days. Usually he was able to make them stop, weather with an antidote to fear or joker gas or the classic: punching the cry-inducing problem in the face.

Then he actually looked over the poor halfa.

Danny was rocking back and forth, shivering with his head ducked between his knees and his hands far back behind his head, clawing at his neck and shirt. His feet were black with what Bruce could see was a culmination of blood, dirt, and... burnt skin. Ribbons of burnt skin and angry red lines crossed over his left leg and ankle, something that couldn't possibly feel good while rocking back and forth like that. His arms held new bruises and something white peeked out from under his pant leg. That reminded Bruce Danny already had a wound on his leg, that giant gash Alfred had to do an impromptu surgery on. It made him a little bit sadder, knowing he wasn't even fully healed from the last time the GIW decided to hurt him and Bruce hasn't been able to protect Danny to keep it from happening again.

"Danny." He spoke softly, hating that the child felt most secure underneath the kitchen table. That was Bruce's fault, the boy felt safest in the first place Bruce confirmed they would NOT enter. It should have been his room, or just anywhere else more comfortable. Bruce had messed up so much for this boy, he didn't deserve a messed up home after the Hell he went through. That's why he stayed away, tried to find someone else more qualified, but even that only hurt the boy he was trying to save. But Bruce couldn't get mad at himself right now, Danny wouldn't know it wasn't directed at him. "Danny you're okay, the GIW is gone now."

Bruce felt at a loss when Danny just continued to cry and rock back and forth, not even attempting to listen. So that's what Dick meant.

"I'm not angry at you Danny," Bruce added, "You are safe here."

The child choked on a sob, bunching up the back of his shirt in his hand before rhythmically relaxing and fisting his grip on the fabric. "Red!" He shouted in barely recognizable English through the warbling sobs. It was accusatory and the child sucked in a few shuttering breaths to whine and sob some more.

While Bruce was still figuring out how to respond to that, Dick maneuvered up to his knees almost eagerly, taking a glance around as if that would give him some answer. "I'm pretty sure we're all blue here Danny. Remember? We're sad when you're hurt—"

"No! S-stop!" Danny cried out over him, speaking between open sobs. "S-stop, p-please! Sorry!"

"What's wrong Danny?" Bruce spoke gently in a break in the small halfa's pleading, seeing as Dick was put off by his comfort being mistaken for attack. "We want to help you Danny, what should we stop doing?"

"Stop it!" Danny yelled, fists pulling at his shirt all the way over his head until it covered just his messy white hair. He pulled at his shirt more and more, not to move it anywhere, just in the action of pulling at something, of moving his fists and grabbing. "Sorrysorrysorry—Stop it Stop— Stop!"

The boy moaned in agony as more tears traveled down his face, the child leaning so far forward his shirt-covered head hit the floor (thankfully gently, though there was an audible 'thump'). His now bare back shook with fresh sobs, but they were unnervingly quieter.

"Danny, please," Dick said, looking a bit close to tears himself. "I know you get confused by kindness, but can you please just listen to us?"

"S-stop it, stopit stopitstopitstopit." The boy whispered quickly, "I-I t-try... p-please I-I try! STOP GAME! SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY!"

Bruce leaned back a little, making eye contact with Dick. Game? Dick was confused as well, his lips forming a tight line as he took a deeper breath through his nose.

"You're doing a great job, Danny," Bruce said, "You're trying and that's good. But we don't understand what you are asking, we're not playing any games."

The small halfa ducked his head even farther, wrapping his arms around the top of his head and he whined.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease, how make keepers yellow, pleasepleaseplease yellow. No...no n-no red no red, bAd red, forever red p-please please I good make yellow." More whispers came, varying in pitch and volume, stress adding differently each word. "Bad game, end game, pleasepleaseplease end game, dead game—dead game. Stop it stop iT stoP iT, please end no more game bad game."

The frown that was etched into Bruce's face deepened, this type of rambling reminded Bruce of some Arkham patients. The patients that were amitted because Crane's toxin wasn't administered in time and the patients' mind was lost in the madness of fear. What was this 'game' that drove Danny to such lengths of fear?

"Wait, I have an idea," Dick said in English next to Bruce, the acrobat getting to his feet and dashing out of the room before Bruce could wonder what it was.

Bruce wasn't able to ask him if he knew what Danny meant by game, but it was clear Dick was correct in his findings. Danny wanted to please his captors, and that made Bruce's insides twist uncomfortably. The child was still rambling on about this 'game' he wanted to stop and occasionally mentioning he wanting to make 'keepers' yellow. Bruce wasn't sure if he should interrupt, this was a high strung situation and Danny was probably well on his way if he wasn't already in a full-on panic or anxiety attack. Bruce wanted to stop him from ripping up his shirt, he kept pulling at it and it worried Bruce. Too much of it reminded Bruce of innocent citizens lost to Crane's gas. "Danny, buddy, you need to calm down and breathe."

The child whimpered, hands landing over his ears as his back shook. "Black, black blackblackblack bRoken! Why keepers broken?! Black kind and safe and speak good things but what do I do?! What is want?! Need h-hitting, need white and ow and and—" the white-haired experiment cried wetly, back bouncing as he sobbed with long hiccuping breaths. "End game! Please!"

"No, Danny. We will not hit you. You do not need it," Bruce said almost automatically, but then winced as the boy cried out in fear.

"Sorry! Am sorry! Am try! I try! Please! I try!" He whined and suddenly cried quietly, hands digging at his shirt again and he pulled at it until it was taut over his neck. "Game n-never stops, game is forever, I know. Am sorry I say stop game. Bad, bad choice. Wrong, evil, ghost, scum. Am yours, am keeper's, keeper orders keeper orders keeper orders is safe."

Clearly there was some trauma here, labeled by Danny as 'game' and Bruce and Dick weren't fitting in with his twisted logic and that was causing panic.

Then Bruce blinked, having a stupidly startling epiphany.

There was a lot to unpack from Danny's newest ramblings but the most obvious was one Bruce should have anticipated. Danny was getting overwhelmed by his freedom, what he needed was order, something to calm the chaos he was unceremoniously thrown into. Hence Danny's sad whispered precious truth to himself; Keeper orders is safe. Which would be the first time Bruce heard Danny vocally or even acknowledge any type of safe at all. And what was it? Orders. He needed someone in charge of his every move. Someone in charge of whatever game he was talking about.

Bruce should have taken things slower, built the boy up to making his own decisions considering how small he was and the trauma he endured. But where was Bruce? Not there, letting Dick do all the heavy lifting because Bruce didn't know what to do with the halfa.

Had Bruce been thinking about other people who could take in Danny? Of course. Batman couldn't keep every being he saved. He got them on the right path, to the people who could really help them. Neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne could devote so much time and effort into a single case.

Then his mind drifted to Dick and the argument dropped like led in his gut. Maybe if he ignored it, that note of argument would go away.

"Danny you are not evil," Bruce spoke as gently as he could, hoping his softer tone would be more genuine instead of the roar that wanted to escape. "I don't know what game you are talking about but if the game means you get hurt we are not going to play it. You are safe here."

Danny went silent, sobbing in his arms. The poor kid probably didn't know what to do with his words, as Dick had pointed out, he only trusted actions. 

Bruce was in deep thought when he heard the patter of feet on the hardwood floors, he looked up as Dick ran over and slid to his knees next to Bruce.

"Here Danny!" Dick spoke excitedly (if not a little out of breath), holding... his Robin cape. The acrobat shifted awkwardly in his seat, ignoring the quirked eyebrow wondering how he got past Alfred with that. "Danny look, its a blanket, it's black on the outside and yellow on the inside. Can I put it around you?" Like a shock blanket, his glance at Bruce said. The man nodded minutely. Danny needed all the comfort he could get right now, as much comfort as he could accept from his perceived abusers.

"Why choice?!" Danny wailed, seemingly curling up even more. "Choice not in game! Game hitting game scum, game scared and bad. Hit hit hit and hurt and pain and white and bad badbadbad."

It was clear enough that Danny was expecting to get hit or some type of punishment for this, for... everything. That must be terrifying. The 'game' was pain, and according to Danny, there was no choice of if pain, only when. There was no end, it just was.

That... that was devastating.

This child had no hope. He still thought there was no hope.

How was he still fighting?

Something cold lumped in Bruce's gut. This wasn't Danny fighting.

Danny was trying to please them by being bad so he would get hit and then when they were done they would go away.

This boy... this child, this soul created by humans who loved him, this spirit utterly torn to pieces barely after it began. He was so thoroughly broken.

Bruce was going to change that, starting with Danny's ability to choose. Danny needed to be in control over something in his life, but he wouldn't be able to accept that right away.

Bruce is going to have to make most of his decisions for him at first because the poor kid didn't know how to make them himself. He would probably refuse to because he didn't know what choices would make his 'keepers' happy. Danny's sense of agency had been completely obliterated and all that was left was what they brainwashed him for. Obeying. Danny didn't know how to make choices for himself, to make choices with his own interests in mind instead of someone else's. Unfortunately, it was clear that for Danny, this problem wouldn't be solved by complete emersion— he'd drown.

Most victims of physical abuse relish their freed agency, spread their wings and have almost the opposite problem of being too controlling, fearing their newfound freedom to be taken again. Psychologically speaking, emotional abuse was a lot harder to get through. Most are domestic abuse cases, one person (husband, wife, Boyfriend, girlfriend, regular friend, child, it didn't much matter) manipulating the other by undermining self-esteem and demanding (under the pretense of love) that they could only ever listen to or depend on was the controlling person. It made trusting anyone else that much harder, because anything could be hidden behind a smile.

(Bruce would know, he worked with all kinds of masks. Not to mention the literal definition that was The Joker.)

Danny's case was a complicated cacophony of both. He was brainwashed educationally (that is to say- tortured) for years on end where the positive reinforcement was not getting beat. Then because he was so young, he was also looking for someone to look up to as any type of authority figure to please, because to his young mind maybe that would make the hurting stop. And if Bruce was understanding this correctly, Danny thought this was how every authority figure worked. Danny was convinced that it wouldn't end, the 'game' that was his conditioning.

With that thought, Bruce had to take a deep breath and hold it before letting it out slowly. He should have punched those monsters harder.

There was no telling how to fix Danny, the combination of the abuse was in a way that the solutions for both types of abuse contradicted each other, therefore ineffective. Bruce would have to tread carefully, they all would. This was the most Bruce had ever seen the boy speak, though it was not the first time the boy sought safety from his perceived tormentors. How many times had Danny tried to escape the GIW? How many times did this small sickly child latch onto anything and everything just for a few more seconds away from his abusers when he knew it was futile? Then turn around and try to please them, to run away because it pleased them? Because in his experience his pain in the way they wanted it would satisfy them and then it would be over.

How many times would Danny try that tactic with Bruce before he learned and trusted that he was safe?

Bruce was getting ahead of himself. He needed to calm Danny down in the here and now, but at least he had a starting point. If anything, giving Danny his agency back would be top priority in the upcoming years (because yes, Bruce was optimistic this was going to take years). Bruce would have to introduce it to him slowly, get his feet wet and work his way to the deep end.

Next to him, Dick swallowed thickly. Poor Dick was taking this very hard but was still trying his best.

"Remember Danny? I'm asking because if you don't want something you have to say no, and if you do want something you have to say yes." Dick explained desperately, it was practiced verbiage and Bruce felt bad. Dick's method wasn't terrible, but giving Danny a sense of self was too high on the docket.

The child went quiet, well not totally, but quieter. "I-I...I..." He sounded confused and out of breath. "I dunno... wh-what want... i-if not game... w-wh-what m-makes k-keeper's y-yellow?"

Bruce felt another stab in his gut at the information. It was only confirming what he knew, but having it said so plainly was... terrible. This child was convinced he needed to get hit to make his captors happy, which would stop the game. This boy was trying so desperately hard to stop the pain that he would offer himself up so it would be over quicker.

Bruce was thrilled he cracked that code, hopefully, but now all he felt was anger towards the GIW. Dick continued to speak as Bruce leaned back as he tried to rein in his overwhelming anger caused by this poor boy's abuse.

"Remember Danny? Guardians, not keepers." Dick said. Then they both winced as Danny recoiled as if he got slapped, "I just mean... We are here to guard your yellow, to keep it safe. We will be yellow when your yellow is safe, but we can't find your yellow right now. Will you help us?"

Bruce wanted to hug his kid again, Dick was brilliant. Dick must have figured out the 'game' code on his own and found the best way to explain themselves to the kid in terms he would understand.

The child started leaning back, sitting up in a small huddle where he cried softly. He had his elbows on his knees, hands still behind his head kneading at his shirt still bunched up around his neck. "G-Guardian game... b-but... white," Danny spoke brokenly, just a simple phrase whispered as tears streamed down his blotchy face.

Bruce looked to Dick for an explanation for the color, the boy himself wearing a sad look. Bruce would tell him about the new gameplan for Danny's recovery, but Dick was creating miracles right now so he let it play out.

"Yeah, you got pretty hurt..." Dick said gently and sighed before he continued just as softly if not more genuinely. "I'm sorry I was a bad guardian. But I promise Danny, me and Bruce are going to take care of you, you're going to be safe. Like this blanket, it may be broken on the outside, but it's happy inside. You can show us when you're happy, and when you aren't you can protect yourself with black."

Danny sniffed and ever so slowly shifted in place, a physical manifestation of nerves that wasn't crying or whimpering. "N-no touch... p-please...?"

"We won't touch you when you don't want it," Bruce affirmed, grabbing the cape from Dick as he continued to speak. "I'm going to put the blanket around you now, I won't cover your face and I won't touch."

Dick looked a bit alarmed, Danny hadn't explicitly confirmed he had wanted the cape but Danny remained still and Bruce took that as a green light. The man shook out the cape and leaned into the darkness under the table, gently throwing the cape around the small child who quietly sat still. He tugged the cape into place, letting it drape around the boy who's shirt was still bunched around his neck with his hands buried inside the folds. Bruce then retreated out from under the table.

Dick was staring at him with what looked to be a weird mix of confusion and alarm. Bruce gave him a look and said quietly in English, "Choices make him nervous, we have to slowly introduce him to choosing for himself."

"But what about what HE wants?" Dick countered, gesturing towards the child huddling under the cape with suspicious quietness.

"He has had every aspect of his life controlled by someone who wanted to hurt him. He's been brainwashed to associate anything deemed 'safe' as something painful to please his captors with. He's not comfortable having a 'want' when he still thinks he has to please his captors. I don't like it, but he's overwhelmed right now. As hard as it's going to be, we need to gradually introduce him to thinking on his own. Which means right now he needs us to make some of his decisions for him or he'll never feel comfortable enough to actually heal." Bruce explained, already seeing the distaste sour his ward's face.

"I don't want to order him around." Dick complained, "That doesn't feel right. We're supposed to be better than the... those monsters."

"And we are," Bruce said a bit too harshly, he hated the idea of being like them even a little bit. "We don't have to be cruel about it, we just have to be aware. We can't leave him in the deep end like he is now, he doesn't know which way is up and he's too confused so he focuses on what he does know for a fact. And right now that's pleasing his superiors with his pain. We can show him he has value, that his wishes and wants are just as valid as anyone else's. He'll understand eventually but he needs time and exposure."

After a few quiet moments of thinking, Dick reluctantly nodded and glanced over to the halfa still tucked under the table. Bruce followed his gaze and clenched his jaw. This poor boy was abused so badly.

Danny wasn't crying anymore, or at least if he was he wasn't making any obvious noise about it. He was moving slightly, shifting his arms and hands out from the tangle of his shirt so his small fingers could clutch at the dark cape. He kept it tight over his boney body and let it bunch up around his face but also made sure it didn't quite cover his ability to see. His green eyes stayed low, but they flicked up every now and then, checking on their cores— Bruce assumed by the lack of eye contact. But the child tensed up when Bruce actively saught his eyes. His entire fragile boney body would stiffen and his face would contort in a wince before quickly looking down or squeeze them tightly shut.

Danny was flinching at eye contact.

Eye contact.

Bruce agreed with Dick, he hated the idea of telling the kid to do something he didn't want to do.

The man let out a deeper breath, but steeled himself for what he was about to do.

"Danny please stand up," Bruce said, scooting backward to give Danny room before standing up himself. "I want you to sit on the table so Alfred can help your feet."

Dick followed Bruce backward but refrained from standing, Bruce understanding that he was going to sit to make himself less of a threat to Danny. His face was twisted oddly but Bruce understood that too. They both had a clear view of the kid's feet and honestly, Bruce didn't want Danny to use them at all. But he felt it was a risk worth taking because the boy wouldn't say no to being held when it was obvious he desperately wanted as much space between them as possible.

The child was heart-achingly quick to act on Bruce's words. Danny got to his knees and crawled out from under the table, keeping one hand close to his neck to keep the black cape in place. He leaned heavily to the one side, attempting to move his most burnt leg as little as possible. His breathing was loud enough for the duo to hear and his pain evident in his body language if the hitching in his breathing wasn't evidence enough.

Danny clutched at the table leg for support and started hoisting himself up to get his feet under him. But the second the halfa put any pressure on his left foot Bruce's anxiety spiked as sharp as the piercing scream that ripped through the air. The child crumpled to the ground, latching onto the table leg as he tried to keep himself up, leaving him to sag painfully to his hindquarters.

Dick was lurching forward to catch him in an instant, but a flash of green stopped his approach.

"I-I-I sorry! I s-sorry!" Danny sobbed behind the green dome that appeared around him, hugging, hiding behind the pillar. He used it again to lift himself up, quickly forcing his burned feet to support his meager weight. The child whimpered through the half-choked sobs, holding onto the table leg with white-knuckled hands. He shoved his head down, pressing it (in a position that could only be uncomfortable) against the leg as he murmured warbling apologies. "Sorrysorrysorrysorry."

"It's okay Danny," Bruce said, gently pulling the equally frightened Dick backward. "No one is going to touch you and you won't get in trouble for protecting yourself. If your feet hurt too much to stand on then you can fly okay? You can use your powers to help you sit on the table."

Danny sobbed quietly as the shield came down, standing gingerly on his hurting feet. Dick ducked behind Bruce, burying his face unto the man's back. Bruce grunted at the sudden presence pressing into his back but he was content to provide that much comfort for his emotionally taxed ward.

Meanwhile, the halfa trembled as he slowly let go of the table leg, rising ever so slightly off the floor and clutching at the cape slipping down his shoulders. Danny tried to be quiet but a sharp gasping breath broke out between his sealed lips that rocked his whole body, making him curl inwards as he rose higher into the air.

Alfred came in as the boy's rump gently rested on the tabletop, the old English butler holding a basin of what seemed to be water. "Master Dick if you could fetch the stool from the west lounge for me please, that would be most helpful."

Danny's shoulders scrunched where he sat, clutching the cape around boney shoulders and ducking his head as he paused his crying to sniffle wetly. Dick took a second but unlatched from Bruce's back and off he went at a brisk walk to complete his given mission.

Alfred set the basin next to the ailing child, looking back towards Bruce with an expecting raised eyebrow nod to the boy who started quietly crying again. "I need to gather the rags and burn cream." He mentioned and moved off back towards the kitchen, leaving the boy and Bruce alone.

Bruce sighed and felt his chest tighten. He walked a few small steps forward before he started talking to the poor child. "Danny, Alfred is going to help your feet, he's going to clean them and then put medicine on them. It might hurt a little bit now but it's going to help it not hurt later and heal faster. Okay?"

He didn't exactly get a response, but that's just as well, Dick came walking in with a stool. Bruce dragged the chair further out of the way as the acrobat placed the stool right in front of the boy, his charred feet barely touching its surface.

"It's going to be alright," Bruce murmured through their movements even though the child didn't seem to change at all. Bruce's eyes were on Dick anyway, and now more than ever he really wanted Dick to leave and get some rest, being here in the middle of this stress wasn't doing him any favors.

Danny, on the other hand, seemed to have checked out, and Bruce couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. He hated to say it made him more pliant, but he couldn't deny the sudden cooperation was a breath of fresh air. Even though it was more like the air tasted muggy and full of sickening poison.

Alfred came back at that moment, having some cloths draped over one arm and the bottles of burn cream and gentle soap in one hand and in the other he held some bandages from one of the many first aid kits. He nodded appreciatively to Dick's stool placement and placed his armful of things next to the boy who trembled with shiny tear streaks staining his cheeks.

"The soup should be done right about now, Master Dick if you could portion some of just the broth into a cup for Master Danny," Alfred mentioned as he set about the task of organizing his things for cleaning the young master's feet.

"Mhm," The young acrobat hummed as he quickly moved off to his next task keeping him occupied and thus not panicking over Danny's insatiability. Alfred always knew the right thing to do, Dick just had to keep moving, keep working, keep doing something. Because if he stopped he wouldn't be able to start again, if he stopped the poisonous air would get to him, he'd drown in the thick air that hung around the boy like a gallows.

Alfred moved the basin onto the stool and knelt down next to it, he gently ran his fingertips over the boy's knee to let him know he was there. "Master Danny, I will be starting now." Then he gave Bruce another look over his shoulder, one that meant he was supposed to be doing something.

Bruce was doing something, he was staring at the child, thinking and formulating. A barely perceptible whimper came from the boy trembling on the table, it pulled the man out of his thoughts. Not for the first time, Bruce was overcome with a heavy sadness (it was more like agony), the boy barely dared to vocalize whatever was ailing him.

Bruce squared his shoulders in what he hoped to be confidence, a kind one that promised safety and security and not anything threatening. He had a plan this time, and it was going to work.

"You're doing such a great job, Danny," Bruce praised firmly as he stepped slowly closer, even though Alfred hadn't even touched his feet yet. Alfred was getting one of the softer textiles wet while Bruce approached the child carefully with what he hoped was a good improvised plan in the 28 seconds he was allowed to conceive it. "Alfred is going to be gentle and clean your feet, he's going to make them feel better." Bruce again narrated, staring at the child who refused to stare back, "and I'm-" he paused for a brief second, finally something useful coming from the back of his brain. "I'm going to hold your hand, okay? If it hurts or you're scared, I want you to squeeze my hand."

Bruce didn't dare try to take one of the child's hands, he just stood there waiting with his palm low but outstretched, ready to hold. The halfa took his time but eventually reached out a shaky hand, putting it in Bruce's and holding on with a grip like a devil. Bruce nearly started in surprise at the tight grip but gently folded his fingers around the tiny hand reassuringly.

Not for the first time, Bruce marveled at the tiny hand clutching his, how small it was to his own giant leathery hands. Everything about Danny was just tiny and vulnerable, even his skin felt like the slightest pressure would make it tear. Bruce knew the only reason that would happen was either age, UV exposure, or medications. And since the boy was clearly not pushing 80 and had been stuck in an underground lab for who knows how long, drugs must be the reason the boy was this way. Or genetics, but Bruce would have to confirm that later.

(Danny's DNA was complicated enough as it is...)

Bruce wanted to hold him, to make sure he was actually there and not withering away like the ghost he was. The tiny hand was so tight on his he couldn't ignore it, but it was still so tiny. He was just so small.

Alfred started by faintly letting his fingertips drag down the boy's leg and twist around to the underside, letting him know where he was by touch. He didn't grab, but gently lifted and directed the leg into the basin. The leg twitched when his toes made contact with the water, muscles tense before the child forced them to relax and hang limply in the basin of water. Alfred copied this motion with the other leg, removing his hand from under the first to grab the cloth he had already soaked with cool water.

Danny was shivering, or maybe he was still trembling in shock and fear, but his hand remained tight on Bruce's while the other seemed just as tight fisting the cape near his neck. Alfred (despite having already gone through this process) dipped the cloth in the water, being careful not to touch the boy's shaking feet before wringing it out and folding the cloth over his right hand.

Alfred's free hand went up to the boy's knee again, gently tapping to let the boy know he was starting there. The British butler started gentle sweeps of the cloth, not really going anywhere that needed real attention in hopes of letting the boy get used to the feeling.

Danny didn't react much, he just sat and trembled, hand fiercely connected to Bruce.

"Good job Danny. You're doing very well." Bruce spoke softly, needing to shift a little to hide the fact he was about to reach out to comfort the kid on instinct. Bruce wasn't much of a physical comforter, but Dick had definitely rubbed off on him (almost literally). Danny was just so small and scared Bruce wanted to help in any way he knew how. It was a bit of a shock for Bruce himself to realize the hand holding wasn't enough for him. Usually, he didn't instigate any type of touch beyond a hair ruffle or maybe a brief side-hug. It was that exact moment when Bruce realized not being able to grant physical comfort when Bruce thought it was necessary was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

Danny's grip suddenly got tighter, if that was possible, and Bruce had to fight the instinct to hug and cradle even harder.

Alfred was at his ankle now, still with soft smooth and short strokes but the cloth was already a nasty color of brown and green. He had to switch sides of the cloth, laying a flat side around the boy's tiny ankle and squeezing just a little before resuming with the strokes. The leg was finished with a final swoop on the top of the child's foot, catching a few blades of grass that had clung to the blood and sweat.

The bottom of his foot, however, was a mess. Alfred didn't want to touch the reddened and burned ankle so he found a good hold farther up the boy's calf and lifted the leg to give him access to the underside of the foot.

Alfred hadn't even begun when the boy whined and seemed to curl up. The ankle twitched, the muscles under Alfred's hand spasming as the child half-heartedly tried to yank his limb back. It was a sad attempt, Alfred pausing for long enough to look up at Bruce with a face that only conveyed grief.

Bruce took that as his cue, again redirecting a rebellious hand that wanted to circle the boy's shaking shoulders. "You're doing amazing Danny, Alfred needs to get rid of the dirt and blood though. He needs to make it clean so it can heal, it's going to hurt right now but it will make it feel better later." Bruce didn't want to lie, it was going to hurt, and probably not a tiny bit, but he had a hard time justifying how it was going to be okay. Bruce wanted Danny to stop being in pain, to never feel it again, but that was irrational and impossible. "May I hold you? I know you're scared and I would like to help you feel safe, would putting my arm around you make you feel safe?"

Bruce wasn't sure if he worded it right, wording was apparently key. Danny was obviously adamant about personal boundaries but he was also prone to obeying commands regardless of personal desire. Danny also had no idea how to even conceive the thought of 'wanting' something for himself so between the two obeying his superiors was going to win nine times out of ten.  Bruce was trying to ride that line, to offer without sounding like an order, to coax choice while introducing the idea of 'wanting' subliminally.

Danny shook his head, so quickly and small Bruce thought it was just a particularly bad tremor, but since the boy curled up even more he refrained. Yet still the tiny hand in his reciprocated Bruce's hold tenfold.

"Okay, that's okay. You're doing so well Danny." Bruce praised, the positive reinforcement was imperative, he was honestly surprised the kid said no. Or maybe it wasn't surprising, Bruce just knew that the second Danny let him he was going to hold him close and tight.

Bruce almost missed it, but apparently Alfred was working on the bottom of the boy's foot, the sloshing of the water the loudest thing in the room. Danny was clearly in pain, but he wasn't vocalizing it so Bruce felt like that was a good thing so far. Maybe.

"Alright, that one is finished, Master Danny." Alfred let the limb go and Danny immediately curled it up into his frame, but the movement caused a whimper and a twitch. The limb struggled for a moment between staying up and going back down, the bottom of his foot obviously too sensitive to be put on the table.

Alfred gently tapped the knee, pressing gently to lower the clean limb. Danny allowed it slowly, thigh jerking in what was probably pain as the movement was agitating the raw skin of his ankle and shin.

Alfred then started on the next leg, going through the same motions all the way down to the bottom of his foot. This was his left leg, the one that was burned more heavily than the other. His ankle was almost completely charred, his shin had more red marks and grated skin like he'd gotten rope burn or even whipped. The bottom of his foot was horrendous, the blood and dirt seemed embedded and the skin quite literally blackened, giving Alfred a hard time of being both gentle and thorough in his cleaning.

One particular pass found a stone lodged in the open wound, eliciting a cry of pain from the little boy and startling everyone else.

Danny started to openly cry, twisting in his seat as he tried to escape the pain without actually pulling his hurting foot away from Alfred. His clean leg came up, but the pain from the bottom of this foot prohibited much movement and he lowered it again. But fear demanded he protect his soft belly, his leg hitched up and stayed suspended in the air, dipping and twitching something fierce. Danny pulled his hands close, finding he didn't care that Bruce's hand came with it. Bruce's arm was tugged along and Danny's head bumped into it and somewhere between Bruce's gut and chest.

Bruce was worried about a great many things, but at that moment he tried not to breach the 'no-touch' trust he was trying to lay down. Instead it seemed like Danny was instigating it. His small head of white hair bumped him again and Danny's other tiny hand came up to clutch at the man's shirt. Danny's crying face twisted in the fabric, hand tugging at the shirt almost like he was asking to bring him closer. Bruce stepped forward to fully give himself as a support beam for the tiny child clinging to him. Bruce knew he shouldn't get much closer though, besides Danny's touch issues he'd crowd Alfred who was working diligently to swiftly get this over with.

Bruce's other hand came up again, ready to cradle the boy's head or rub his back. Bruce kept it at bay though, just able to stave off the frozen limb hovering above the child. "It's okay Danny, it's okay. It'll be over soon. May I rub your head? I know you like it sometimes, it could distract you from the pain."

Bruce was trying to negotiate, but the boy just kept crying. He didn't know what movements were nodding or shaking, the child just continued to cower and cry. Bruce's furrowed brow looked down to Alfred who seemed to be on the tail end of cleaning off the foot, the offending rock gone now and at the bottom of the basin of dirty water. The water was murky at best, and absolute muddy at worst. The rings of unholy green swirling in the mix was unsettling.

Bruce was distracted when Danny clawed at his shirt, seemingly trying to find more fabric to grab or just needed some other way to express his pain. Bruce's free hand was quick, shoving his fingers right into the boy's wild albino hair. His fingers started raking and circling soothingly at the child's scalp. Bruce nearly startled when Danny instantly went limp, but it turned out his instantaneous relaxation wasn't all that relaxed. Danny was still taut as a bowstring, he had just let himself relax into a more defensive stance. 

Then Bruce noticed that Alfred had finished cleaning the foot and was getting ready to apply the burn cream. The butler gently lifted the wounded leg out of the basin (the other still twitching where it was brought up to Danny's chest) and dragged the stool out of the way. He let the leg dangle as he left to go wash his hands before applying the cream. That's probably why Danny felt more relaxed, Alfred had stopped touching and the hard part was over.

Bruce took solace that Danny could only go up from here, which was the only good thing about hitting rock bottom.

"Good job Danny, good job." Bruce murmured gently.

Movement made Bruce's head lift up, wincing as he realized Dick must have just been sitting there watching the whole time. The acrobat had a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him and a cup a bit farther away. The cup was clearly for Danny, and the soup for Dick, but he was barely acknowledging the food's presence.

Alfred came back and Danny whined, having had relaxed a little more while he wasn't being assaulted by the cleaning cloth. Bruce winced as he realized Danny was associating Alfred's presence with painful wound touching. This was twice, if not the third time Danny had his wounds be treated by the butler, and all those times Danny was in pain. Bruce gently hushed the crying child, trying to be soothing and not demanding. It didn't seem to matter, Danny went uncomfortably silent despite Bruce's good intentions.

"I promise Master Danny, this shouldn't hurt much at all," Alfred affirmed as he knelt down once more and grabbed the bottle of ointment. Bruce didn't have to watch to know exactly when Alfred started applying the burn salve, Bruce could have been blind and he would have known. Danny's entire body flinched on first contact, but not one noise escaped him.

"You're doing so well Danny, such a good job." Bruce spoke, rubbing one thumb over the boy's knuckles. He saw Danny's arm tense and abort an attempt to yank his arm away (even though he was definitely still holding on) so Bruce stopped. "It'll be over soon and then you can have some broth and get some rest."

Repetition, that was how trauma victims healed, almost rhythmic routines with no surprises or double meanings. Bruce took the boy's hand because he had before while helping him up the stairs. Hopefully, Danny would connect the two events, seeing as how both times the hand was there to help hold him and guide him. Danny would learn to expect it, to not fear it, and possibly to trust it.

But they were a long way from there.

"Nearly done, Master Danny," Alfred said as well. He was already done with the bad leg, moving on to the right leg that didn't need as much burn cream. Alfred was looking up though, eyes finding raw skin around the boy's neck. If it wasn't there already, a frown made it onto his face, he couldn't let the boy be in any more pain than he needed to. Which is to say; none.

Danny did seem much more relaxed as it clearly wasn't hurting as much anymore. He trembled in Bruce's side and his knuckles were white over both his hand and his shirt, but he remained silent. He just sat and shakily took in short breaths in the heavy air where Danny's head was ducked against the big man's side. Bruce wasn't sure he liked the silence any more than he liked the crying, he should have been more aware that Danny would take a gentle hushing so seriously. He hadn't meant to mute the boy, maybe he could fix it somehow, but he had no idea how to go about that any more than he knew how to comfort him.

Bruce moved his hand away as the boy started to lean back to put some distance between them. His tiny hand fisting Bruce's shirt let go and was noticeably shaking as it went straight to his neck to pull the black cape where it started to slip without its anchor. Bruce wasn't sure if it was fear or just comfortableness that led to that motion but Bruce still held onto the poor boy's hand, the small hand still clamped over his like a tiny clam.

"All done now Master Danny," Alfred said as he stood up, but his hand went back for the bottle of burn cream. "But if I may, your neck has some burns I would like to address."

Bruce tensed just as much as Danny did, his neck was much more vital and sensitive than his legs and feet. But Bruce then looked over the burns he could see, needing to glance around the boy's ducked head to find the area of concern. It was found behind him, the child's ducked head exposed the back of his neck, and while he covered the space with the cape it had since slipped and his attempts to tug it back were in vain. Bruce's eyes widened to find the exposed skin was an angry, irritated red and splattered with little lightning zig-zags over his skin. He wasn't sure it was quite like the Lichtenberg figure which happens after someone survives a lightning strike, this was more like the constant repetitive use of plain old electricity. Around his neck. And this wound was fresh.

In other words, Bruce wanted to punch something, preferably someone wearing white. It was a good thing Danny was sitting in front of him and wasn't staring at his core, Bruce didn't need to see cores to know Danny would definitely get spooked if he saw his right now.

Necks were one of the most sensitive places on the body, it was the easiest exposed sure-fire way of a quick death and was vital to most if not all bodily functions. Not to mention the base of the neck has the highest concentration of nerves. 

Actually, Bruce suspected the opposite was true, his neck might not be as sensitive, the nerves could be frayed from the electrical abuse. But Danny was clearly protective of his neck, always keeping something over it or his hand near it.

But to breach that level of safety the boy was trying to give himself in this new environment with lots of scary new things...

Bruce took a deep breath and nodded to Alfred, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. Danny needed this to heal correctly or else the nerves really would be shot. Bruce didn't want Danny in any pain, he was trying to show him he meant safety and comfort, which meant making sure the child was healing properly and not in pain. Like a thorn, it would hurt to take out but it would feel better after. Now if they could only convince Danny they weren't planning on pushing the thorn further in...

The old butler was smart though and waited for the right cue, possibly from Danny. Bruce slightly shook Danny's hand to grab his attention, trying to make eye contact even if the boy hastily looked away. "Danny, Alfred is going to help your neck now. He doesn't have to clean it like the feet, he's just going to put the burn cream on it. It's going to feel good. It won't hurt I promise."

Danny's face conveyed everything Bruce feared. Fear flashed across until it morphed into sadness and then acceptance. The fear didn't even go away, it wrinkled his little face horribly but a certain resign laid on top. That's when Danny arched his neck, barely shifting to hold onto Bruce's hand with two hands.

Danny was trembling again, his eyes had closed and it hurt Bruce all the more. He was straining, his instincts to protect his vitals were probably screaming at him, his muscles kept twitching and even his throat started bobbing like he was trying to swallow.

"I'll make it fast," Alfred promised Danny more than Bruce.

The first touch to his neck elicited the first sound since Bruce accidentally muted him, and the sound tore at Bruce's heart. It was the quietest whine, followed up with a swallowed whimper and the shakiest breath Bruce had ever witnessed.

Alfred, true to his word, was fast but was also determined to be thorough. 

More sounds were escaping Danny, and they really were escaping. They weren't more than squeaks before he squashed them, barely recognizable sounds passed his parted lips. A full whimper leaped out of the boy's throat when Alfred reached behind and swept his hand across the base of the boy's neck. The broken sound was accompanied by a hard flinch, his shoulders came up and his head ducked as he leaned away from the offending hand.

Perhaps instead of dulling the receptors, the electricity only made them more sensitive.

"Almost done Danny, almost there." Bruce nearly forgot to praise, but after that sound he found the words coming out without forethought. "You're doing great, you're being incredibly brave Danny."

The child just continued to shiver and squeak, slowly giving his neck back out for Alfred. Bruce saw fresh tear streaks and he was glad the boy's eyes were closed, he wouldn't need to see cores to see how angry Bruce was. Danny cried silently until Alfred's hands finally left his neck. Bruce then realized he had no feeling in his hand, despite the tiny hand the circulation was cut off completely.

"Alright, it's over. All done." Bruce breathed out, unsure of when he sucked in or held. Bruce looked over at Dick for the first time in a while and he couldn't bring himself to smile. Dick was in obvious need of hugs, and Bruce had to admit Dick wasn't the only one.

Both of Danny's hands released him then, the boy shifting in his seat on top of the table as he was finally allowed to hunker as he pleased. Surprisingly his legs didn't come up again, instead, they were still as rocks. Alfred was starting to wind the bandages around the worst of the burns so they wouldn't get irritated by any brushing, and luckily Danny took to it well. Or as well as Bruce could see, the kid was going catatonic again.

His hands held the cape around his neck, he wasn't doing anything besides shivering. Bruce could barely even tell, the only give away was his hair, it was trembling where it dangled over the kid's face.

Alfred done for real now, taping off the bandages and stepping aside to gather his things.

"He's all done now Danny, are you still in pain?" Bruce asked.

The white-haired halfa just sat there, hands still tugging at the black cape around his neck while his ducked head trembled.

Bruce felt something stab his heart while he waited in the silence. Was it too much to ask for a response after such a traumatic event?

The child's legs finally gave a twitch as he slowly bobbed his head.

Bruce almost sighed in relief. "Dick will get some medicine for you, then there will be no more hurting." The words sent the acrobat off again, disappearing into the kitchen to be useful.

The small halfa curled inwards, still silent and legs still frozen over the edge of the table. 

"It's alright Danny," Bruce spoke, his big hand feeling especially empty and his heart aching at the sight. "The bandages will help your legs not get infected. Alfred made you a broth, I would like you to have some before you get some rest."

Danny did not react, his head only ducked a little bit lower.

A bit frustrated, but mainly saddened, Bruce slowly moved across the table to grab the cup Dick had left. He grabbed the straw too, extending it with the odd ripping popping sound and plunked it into the drink. He nearly set it in the boy's lap, but stopped at the last second, this time just offering.

It took a few long seconds that felt like minutes, but finally, a tiny hand reached out slowly to grab the cup. Bruce let go and the child pulled it close to his chest where he stayed the most curled.

"Good job Danny," Bruce felt the need to praise, then took a step back so the kid could have some space.

Bruce didn't like the sudden silence, Danny was shutting down again. It was so quiet Bruce could hear a tiny rasping sound coming from the small child, like breathing itself hurt. The poor kid, Bruce was such an idiot for thinking the GIW would just let them have the small ghost boy, and an even bigger idiot for leaving the traumatized child alone.

"Here," Dick came in, handing Bruce a small bottle of children's chewable Ibuprofen. Bruce looked over the bottle real quick. No side effects, wonderful. Danny should only have one and a half even though he was nine and therefore should have two and a half. But he was so underweight, Bruce didn't need a scale to tell him he was around 30-40 pounds instead of the normal 60-70 pounds nine-year-olds are supposed to be. (In which the table stated 36-47 lb child would be around 4-5 and have one and a half tablets, whereas the 9-10-year-olds were 60-71lb and had two and a half tablets.) (Did Bruce ever mention how small Danny was?)

Bruce opened the bottle and shook out two round purple chewable Ibuprofens, placing one on the table while he cut the other one in half with the pill cutter Dick had also provided. After the small 'shink' Bruce extracted a half and put the other half back in the bottle he laid out the one and a half chewables and handed it to the child on his flat hand. "This is Ibuprofen, its a drug, but it's going to make the pain go away and it doesn't have any side effects. Drugs have many uses and some are bad and some are good. This is a drug that's going to help, it's not going to give you pain or make you sleepy or have bad dreams. It's only going to make the pain go away, but you also can't have too much or it will hurt, this amount will not hurt you."

Dick stood next to Bruce as the child reached out with a shaky hand to take the chewable, then realized the kid might not know to chew it and might try to swallow it whole. "It's the kind you chew Danny, it's going to make things taste weird, but it's not a bitter or bad taste. I used to take them too when I was younger."

Danny only hesitated for a second before he brought it to his mouth and started chewing. Bruce and Dick exchanged helpless and worried glances. They weren't convinced Danny believed them, at this point Danny was just doing whatever they said because they said it.

"Good job, Danny," Bruce said as the kid started to sip at the broth, not showing any sign of discomfort of the weird taste the drug would make the broth. It was a bit awkward from then on, the two just standing there as the kid sat on the table and quietly drank his warm broth. Dick moved to the side, going to the seat where his untouched meal rested. Bruce just continued to stand and wait, wondering if Danny himself would stop drinking if he was full or would only stop when the cup was empty.

It was so quiet, almost uncomfortable, there was an obvious tension in the air Bruce didn't know how to soothe. He wanted to fix everything that was wrong so the kid could be happy and finally feel safe, but that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

Finally, Danny's straw made the telltale sound of sucking up the last bits of liquid, which actually spooked the kid drinking it. Bruce stepped forward, wincing as the kid flinched at the motion. "Alright, good job, good job. I'm going to carry you up to bed now so you don't hurt your feet."

Bruce crept closer and gently took the cup from the boy's hand and set it aside. Danny remained still and pliant as Bruce slowly wrapped his arms around the kid and lifted to his chest. He remained in bridal style as Bruce moved out of the kitchen, leaving Dick behind who went to the sink with the cup.

The vigilante briefly contemplated having the halfa sleep down in the cave in the med bay, but quickly discarded the idea. Sure, it would be closer to Bruce while he worked and was much more protected than the house, but the hospital-like setting was sure to set off more than a few nerves in Danny. Bruce was determined, he was not going to cause another panic attack and he would do his darndest to keep him from situations that would make him tense. The idea of putting Danny to sleep right now was to replenish his energy and help him heal, putting him in another stressful situation would do the opposite.

So Bruce plunged up the stairs, trying to make the travel upstairs both swift and soft. And with Danny's head curled against his chest, he had no idea how the kid was taking all of this. His tiny hands remained by his neck, gripping tight to the black cape huddled around him. The cape was a good idea, although it would have been better to get him an actual blanket that wasn't Robin's cape.

Bruce was reminded that his house had been damaged once he got to the top of the stairs. Dick would delight in having a sleepover in Bruce's room though, and Bruce wasn't averse to the idea either. One thing was for sure though, no one was going to be alone in this house. Which would make Danny's sleeping arrangments a problem, but luckily Bruce was somewhat thinking ahead.

Bruce entered the halfa's designated room, luckily spared from all the action the GIW and whatever beast had rampaged through his house. The billionaire shifted the boy to one arm as he approached the bed, his free hand tossing the blankets back so he could gently deposit the child into its comfort. Danny barely moved where Bruce set him down, head nuzzling into the pillow in what Bruce realize was not an act of comfort but to avoid Bruce himself. Bruce made quick work of pulling the blankets up, the nagging feeling in his chest pulling harder and harder as he realized that his presence alone was not something Danny deemed safe.

So he retreated to the edge of the room, hanging on the door frame as he loitered in indecision. He needed to say something, something to give Danny an idea of what would happen next. That way Bruce could communicate his want for Danny to be relaxed, so he wouldn't be scared the next time Bruce entered the same room as him.

"You did very well today Danny," He paused, that cold pit in his gut solidified uncomfortably as he felt he was talking to the room more than the child. His lips pressed in a firm line as he continued, the child remaining a tiny unresponsive lump under the giant bed covers. "Get some rest. I'll come to get you for some food when you wake up,"

With one last look around the room, noting a rather violent shiver from Danny, Bruce left. He closed the door gently behind him and waited there for a moment.

He gave himself that moment and only that moment before he was moving again. He headed down the stairs, looking down at his phone as he brought the security cameras up. The cameras specifically from Danny's room. Bruce entered the kitchen, finding Dick pitifully poking at his soup and another steaming bowl where Bruce sat.

Bruce looked up to Alfred who walked in, sensing his presence was needed like the awesome butler he was. "Alfred, we'll take these to go." He spoke, "And if there's any way you can stay in the west wing with us I'd be much more comfortable."

"Not descending below, Master Bruce?" Alfred's eyebrow arched as he set about his task of making the man's meal portable.

Dick was still poking at his food, slouching in his chair with a huff as Alfred took his bowl to place on a platter. It was not wasted on Bruce that Alfred refrained from correcting Dick's posture, his ward had been way over his head earlier and it was Bruce's job to fish him back out.

Bruce shook his head to Alfred's question, "The security has been breeched too many times, if I had my way we'd be packing, but we cant move Danny while he's in such a fragile state. So, for now, we're all under house arrest until I can figure out a more effective security system and fix our identity issue."

If Dick didn't look absolutely miserable then, he definitely did now.

"I'd like everyone to be within shouting distance, the GIW has made it clear they aren't averse to picking us off when we're alone and more vulnerable." Bruce continued, taking a glance at the live feed of Danny's room on his phone. "So I'm bringing work upstairs."

Alfred frowned at that, settling his usually immaculate utensil placing a bit harder than necessary. "Master Bruce—"

"I know Alfred," Bruce interjected as politely as he could, "but the GIW already know who we are, Danny is upstairs alone right now and I can't let the GIW do anything more to hurt my family. So until I figure out how to fix this we need to stay together."

Alfred looked like he wanted to argue, but even he understood with such a situation as this, rules had to be broken for their survival. He nodded solemnly, eyeing the child next to him that drew his legs up into the dining chair that was not meant for that kind of sitting.

Bruce moved forward, stepping up to his ward and crouched so he was level with his kid. Dick glared and grumbled at the display, probably outraged by the 'kid gloves' Bruce was now handling him with. Bruce made it a point to emphasize Dick WAS a kid and was allowed to indulge in such things even if he didn't always need them.

"Alright kiddo, up you get," He twisted slightly, offering his back to his ward. A smile tugged at his lips as Dick's arms looped around his neck and his smaller body pressed up against his back and his legs locked around his gut. Dick's chin rested on his right shoulder, leaning ever so slightly to brush his head against Bruce's. Bruce got to his feet without issue and headed towards the stairs, arms supporting the kid's legs even if Dick's athleticism enabled him to hold this position for however long (within reason) he wanted. Again a display that Dick didn't have to do everything on his own, that it was okay to get help.

It was something Bruce himself was taught by the boy many occasions, Dick just needed a little reminding it applied to himself too.

The walk to Bruce's room was quiet, the first true calm after everything from that morning till after lunch. Then Dick broke the silence.

"You weren't planning on keeping him were you?" Dick asked quietly, but he was right next to the man's ear, making the soft question resonate.

Bruce sighed as he trudged up a few more steps of the grand stairs. "No, Batman doesn't usually keep what he saves." It was true, Batman doesn't stay for the rehabilitation of victims, he just gets rid of the prominent physical problem. He takes care of the city, he stops crime, he doesn't play therapist or doctor. That's what his parents did, and they did a great job, but it was Bruce's turn to do his part in the only way Bruce knew how. To stop it before it happens, so no one had to end up like him. But Batman had limits, and no matter how much good he does, there will always be evil. The burned side of the coin to match the clean.

"...You kept me..." Dick replied softly.

Bruce almost smiled, Dick's optimism never failed to give Bruce a new perspective. Dick was someone he failed as Batman, someone who chose the same path of justice against the world brimming with darkness. It was a dark path, going toe to toe with darkness does that, but it also made Dick shine brightest. "You didn't give me much of choice." He retorted, aiming for something lighthearted.

Dick's face buried in his neck in some sort of back hug or cuddle (or something to that degree). "Neither does Danny..."

Bruce entered the master bedroom as he took a deep breath and headed for his giant bed. "He'll get his chance, I just wanted it with someone who could give him the right chance."

"The right chance?" Dick asked as Bruce neared the bed.

"The chance to truly heal," Bruce said, pausing himself as he sat down on the bed so Dick could disengage. But the kid stayed on, arms and legs holding on tighter, but Bruce knew how to combat this.

Bruce flopped on his back, crushing Dick into the bed, a shrill yelp erupting with laughter as Dick flailed to get the heavy weight off of him. "Brruuuuuce! Get off!! Cant! Breathe!"

Bruce endured punishing hits from flailing limbs with a smirk, "You seem to be doing fine." Then he stretched out, yawning and broadening his form across the bed, Dick's half-laugh protesting being muffled as Bruce's heavy body completely drowned the boy. Bruce moved his shoulders, snuggling deeper into the bed as Dick's limbs flailed under him. "So comfy, mm, could sleep right here."

Bruce shifted to one side so Dick had enough mobility to breathe and free an arm. Bruce smiled as Dick shoved at his shoulder in an attempt to free the rest of him, face red and hair tousled wildly, but a smile spreading across his face. "Bruce you big fat oaf! Get off!" The words lacked venom, a light in his boy's eye Bruce welcomed since it disappeared with Danny. Instead of complying with Dick's request he went limp.

Dick shouted in indignation, yanking and pulling at his shoulder in an attempt to move him. A chuckle emanated deep from Bruce's chest, adding to Dick's huffing laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

When it was clear he wasn't getting anywhere with Bruce's limp 200+ pound body on top of him, Dick sighed and flopped back as well. It was silent for a few moments, each appreciating the other's presence. Just Bruce and Dick existing, not Batman and Robin or Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. No responsibilities other than breathing and staring up at the ceiling. Just Bruce and Dick.

Until, "If I'm a pancake tomorrow I'm blaming you."

"You had enough yet?" Bruce asked with a faint smirk, moving to roll over again, "Or do I need to smother you more?"

Dick yelped as he struggled to avoid Bruce's big body. The acrobat protested with a grunted as he tried to prop the man with his one free arm, wiggling the other to try to free it. When his struggling was for nothing he smacked Bruce's shoulder, sending a glare over the man's bulky arm. "Move you weirdo! Or I might actually lose my limbs!"

"What if I'm a bad guy?" Bruce asked innocently, "What if you're trapped Robin? Wadda gonna do?"

"I'll do this." Dick punctuated his words with a kick, landing close enough to Bruce's crotch that the man 'oof'ed and swiftly got to his feet. "Hah!" Dick gloated, sitting upright and curling his squished limbs close, massaging his calf in a show to return its blood flow.

Bruce shrugged, still wearing a small smile. It was worth it to see Dick happy again. At least he can do some things correctly when it comes to Dick. "It's effective alright."

Dick preened while Bruce moved off, heading for the desk he had in his room.

"So whats the plan B?" Dick shouted after him, sounding more alert when he saw Bruce moving.

Bruce reached his desk and opened up a secret drawer, taking out a thick nondescript laptop and from a different drawer a thin tablet. "I've got a job for you," Bruce said back, coming back over to the bed where Dick waited. He handed the boy the tablet, "Simple job. We can't leave Danny alone, especially now, so someone has to keep an eye on him while I make sure the agents can't get in here again."

He saw an argument forming in his ward's face, frown twisting and eyes narrowing into a glare. Dick had a certain dislike for stakeouts and boring things like sitting and waiting. Where his skill was apparently being 'wasted' and precious hours kicking butt were used instead for waiting for the right moment to strike. Bruce was going to remind him what this was for but it seemed he didn't have to.

Dick lost his angry look, his entire form wilting sadly but the fire in his eyes narrowed on Bruce. "Alright, for Danny." He took the tablet and gave Bruce a look, one that said if it were any other circumstance he'd be putting up a fight.

Bruce nodded his acceptance of that fact as Dick scooted backward until he was sitting against the headrest. "Thank you, Dick. I'll be at my desk."

Time seemed to warp after that, time at his desk usually did that. Alfred came in after a few minutes, setting Bruce's food next to him and Dick's food on the nightstand. Dick actually had an appetite now and dug in hungrily, while Bruce merely picked at his food while he worked. Dick was out like a light thirty minutes after.

Bruce quietly got up and was careful not to make too much noise as he pulled a bit of the blanket over his sprawled sleeping ward. Bruce sat back down at his desk with a small smile.

Get Dick to sleep. Mission: Accomplished. Dick needed that rest, and Bruce wasn't above tricking the boy into sleeping by letting him believe he was being useful.

Which he definitely was, Dick's help was still invaluable as it always was, but this time the boy's wellbeing was more important. Bruce still had his phone hooked up with Danny's room camera and Alfred was in the corner of the room reading next to the mini library and windows.

Bruce finally felt a trickle of content slide over him, for now he had all his bases covered and he was getting to the bottom of how the GIW kept getting in.

He had already decoded some of the files he acquired about Danny, but what he wanted was their technology. He needed to know what technology they were using, how it worked, and how to negate it. After finishing the encryptions on Danny's files it should have made the entire process easier, but it was like each file was being scrambled differently. Even when he left for the bathroom for two minutes the code he had JUST been working on was scrambled incomprehensively. He had an active hacker working against him, which should be impossible. It was like the files themselves were fighting back.

Bruce shot to his feet when the screen went black, knocking his chair back and Alfred almost did the same across the room. Alfred said nothing, the silence deafening, each of them taut as a bowstring.

Bruce stood very still as the screen remained black, sliding a Batarang into his hand.

The screen flickered green, an unholy glow poisoning the air. Bits of blue and white glitched onto the screen, black lines scratching through the glow. It flickered once more, flashing white and black and back to that green. A familiar green.

"We're being cyber attacked." Bruce spoke aloud, reaching forward with one hand to see if he could do anything about this. The second the pad of his finger touched a key the screen went white. Three big black and bold letters appeared, a dot in between them all.

G.I.W.

Bruce stiffened and lifted his voice for Alfred. "Check on Danny. Take Dick if you need to, it's the Guys In White." He spared a glance at Danny's room only to find that screen had gone white as well. One glance over to Dick and the discarded tablet there spoke the same story.

Bruce looked up at Alfred, seeing his old friend make the same observation with his own white screened phone in hand.

"Quickly." Bruce didn't need to urge the butler on, he was already out of the room.

His eyes went back to Dick on the bed, he should wake him up. Whatever sleep he was getting now would be laughable if he let Dick sleep through this, he would probably never sleep again in fear of something happening while he was unconscious.

Although, Bruce thought warily, Dick would probably already think that once Bruce woke him up right now. Either way Dick wasn't going to sleep well in coming days. Bruce would make sure he does, or Alfred, but right now they have a big problem.

Glancing over the screens again Bruce abandoned the desk, walking swiftly over to the bed to shake Dick's shoulder.

The acrobat roused with a roll of his head and a "Wha...?" He shifted his hands under him so he could sit up, face contorting as he picked up on Bruce's unease. "What? Is something wrong?"

"The GIW launched a cyber-attack, cameras are down, I sent Alfred to go check on Danny." Bruce explained sparsely, for some reason feeling the need to stay here with the electronics. Something wasn't right with all of this, a simple hacking seemed too mild for the GIW, it had to be a cover for something greater. The GIW weren't known to be avid hackers, they were more like military scientists, not tech support. This new attack threw Bruce off-kilter, he should have been prepared for anything the GIW might throw at them but he definitely wasn't expecting a cyber attack after every attack so far had been a physical fight over Danny.

Dick was up in seconds, muttering a word under his breath that would require money in Alfred's swear jar. "I'll be with Alfred and Danny." He said louder as he too bolted (rather clumsily) out of the room.

With that finished Bruce returned to his desk, freezing when he saw new text on the screen.

Mr. Wayne

The black text stared back at him, a cursor blinking at the end like it was being typed in real time. The next line negated that fact, they were full messages only being delivered slowly, not all at once like normal digital messages.

I believe we got off on the wrong foot.

Bruce fished out a small device from his belt, letting it magnetize to the metal and collect the data from the screen.

The text continued.

We hold no ill will towards you as you believed what you were doing was right. You have recently unleashed a power you do not understand, a power that will doom the entire world if not contained. You will see the error of your ways sooner or later. Although, fate may not be so kind in how that happens.

Bruce checked his other screens, no text besides the big GIW stamped at the top. Somehow they knew where he was, which screen he could see, but how? The GIW was one big 'how?!' and Bruce was getting tired of it quickly. But barely three seconds passed before more text scrawled onto the screen.

You are a smart man Mr. Wayne, we would have hoped you had done your research before making rash decisions with untold consequences. You may think your actions to free the monster to be noble and just, but you are just lacking in information. I'm sure you will come to the same conclusion once you are made aware of the risky situation you unwittingly put the world in.

Bruce was not offended by the verbal chastisement from the GIW. Instead, Bruce was still, going into Batman mode to soak in the information to later contemplate once he had all the puzzle pieces.

All Ectoplasmic beings of post-human consciousness, otherwise known as 'Ghosts' feed on human emotions, it fuels its power and as it grows stronger it becomes more dangerous. The abomination you liberated is the most dangerous of these ghosts, able to replicate the physique of a human child. It is disgusting, an imitation of our own vulnerable flesh used against us. It uses this disguise to manipulate the emotions of any human it comes across, going so far as to persuade an innocent human family to accept it into their home as one of their own. This ended in a sad, avoidable tragedy. Do not repeat their mistakes.

Bruce swallowed his anger, knowing exactly what tragedy had fallen the Fenton's and who's fault that was. But he kept calm as more words scrawled onto the screen.

Without a doubt, this abomination is the most dangerous ghost known to us. So it is easy to see where you were led astray.

You see a frightened child, but we know better. This ghost uses the emotions gathered from their human victim to further the illusion, dragging the human deeper into a sense of security before it strikes. You have seen it. You have been afraid at some point, caused by the abomination disguised as a 'child'. And you have seen it exhibit more human qualities, such as eating and drinking which it does not need. Ghosts do not eat or drink, they do not have the necessity to defecate but with enough power it displays the ability to do so.

Bruce wanted to slam his fist into the screen, he refrained from doing that, luckily diverting the blow to the desk instead.

But that correlation could not be avoided.

Bruce didn't want to think Danny as anything other than the small traumatized child that he was, but he knew he had to be wary to some degree. He had originally been looking for weapons, that was what the tip warned about, but he found Danny instead and without a second thought freed him from that hellhole. If Danny did survive this long with the GIW without food and water he really must not need it. But then that small malnourished body full of grotesque scars filled his mind and his scowl doubled. Bruce knew from their files that Danny was half-ghost, they knew Danny was only half-ghost. Maybe the ghost part of him was as malicious as the GIW warned, but so far Bruce had not seen anything of the sort.

He would keep an eye out, as he did with all metas close to his family. Danny was young, Danny himself may not know there was something evil inside of him —if that were even true. But nonetheless Bruce had to entertain the possibility for everyone's safety.

Our ways of containing the monster may be cruel to the uneducated, and they would be if the subject was human at all. Ghosts are expert liars, master manipulators, but they are not human. Ghosts do not have rights, they are monsters who need to be kept from wrecking havoc on the world. The GIW 's goal is to eradicate all ghost presence in the world, to keep humanity safe. We have learned from the subject you took, it is the only reason we have the ability to combat other ghost threats.

This is when Bruce nearly fell back, silent as the horror inside grew like Ivy's poisonous thorns with every line he read.

You have seen this in the files about the subject. We hoped our methods need no explanation, but as you acted upon misunderstood information we will enlighten you.

To keep the subject from gaining too much power from us while we learn from it we are sure to restrict its access to its physical powers of manipulation. We ensure its attempts of further manipulation are met with a lasting punishment befitting its weakness. We have found that every ghost has a weakness, usually pertaining to how the ghost's former life ended. This subject's weakness is electricity, we've used it liberally with other forms of punishment that are nearly just as effective. This, however, does not stop the ghost entirely, it will continue to try to manipulate you in the name self preservation until it has collected enough emotional energy to overpower you. We have never let it get that far but we also need to sustain it enough for our purposes. It is a hard line to walk, the key is which emotions you allow the scum to feed off of. Fear gives them the most power, the stronger the fear the more power the ghost has until it is unstoppable. We have found that feelings of joy sustain it but do not give it satisfaction, essentially starving it with food it cannot process. This system does well keeping the subject powered down, but again it will not stop until it reaches the satisfaction of fear that it needs. But, we have found that with long enough exposure to this system the ghost will forget it needs fear and will become a shell of its former self, much more controllable and safe. This is the ultimate goal with this system, to strip away the ghost's true power. The ghost you liberated has had four years of this system and we can only achieve this state a few times that do not last long. It has the most durability of any ghost we've dealt with. It is dangerous, too dangerous even for the likes of yourself Mr. Wayne.

Bruce felt sick, recognizing that line in the boy he had put to bed earlier. Danny had gone catatonic, he stopped fighting and responding, stopped being afraid and just let things happen. That was the broken Danny, a Danny who's spirit and will have faded, but according to this, it was not forever. Bruce's stomach rolled with the thought that Danny had gone catatonic in his home where he was supposed to be safe.

Bruce hated the itchy feeling in the back of his head, warning him that what the GIW was saying was actually making sense to some degree. The GIW ARE experts in the subject of ghosts and Bruce definitely was not. If he really thought about it Danny did abide by their explanations a little bit. He couldn't deny the possibility that Danny might have a monster sharing his body. A monster using Danny to lie in wait for the perfect moment to do whatever it does with Bruce and Dick and Alfred.

But it didn't add up, the facts were wrong. If Danny truly abided by these conditions the GIW explained then Danny should have done something evil by now. Bruce could only imagine one instance where he was happy with the boy and that had ended with Danny wanting to know what a smile was and erupted with tears for a reason Bruce could only now figure out. Danny must be scared of joyful feelings despite being so desperate to 'make his keepers yellow'. Danny was able to see emotions, that makes sense now if the GIW's explanation was to be believed. But other than that their explanation made no sense. If Danny really did feed off of their negative feelings then there should be no way Danny was able to go catatonic considering the 'conditions' needed for it was feeding him joy.

Bruce was not blind as to not notice they did not acknowledge Danny was only half ghost, currently in his ghost form. If this was the monster they spoke of, that frail scared child, then all Bruce had to fear was panic attacks and possibly power malfunctions. Danny was just a child, way too young and much too traumatized and weak to be thinking about world domination or whatever having 'too much power' meant like the GIW said he was.

Their conditioning, if it did anything right, only let Danny focus on making his captors happy. It should be what the GIW was hoping for, making Danny dependent on the wrong fuel. But again it didn't add up, Danny had been around negative emotions and didn't seem any more powerful than before. The goal was all wrong, the conditioning didn't end with catatonic Danny like they were hoping, it ended with... a weapon.

Danny was their weapon. Manipulated to pleasing his torturers, to obeying, to use what powers they allowed him at certain times to do their bidding.

Another voice inside Bruce whispered back.

This could all be an elaborate trick by Danny, you've only had him for a bit more than four days and he's only been awake for one of them. How much do you actually know about Danny? It all seems very convenient, a child weapon in the hands of the government would definitely grab the attention of a hero. They said he would try to manipulate you into feeling bad for him, to continue the illusion for however long it wanted. They said his ability to replicate human bodily functions was part of the illusion, a power. Danny could be pulling strings to keep himself away from the GIW where he knew he was thwarted. Maybe deep down Danny was malicious, but hid it expertly behind giant scared doe eyes. Even if it wasn't a conscious effort his mannerisms do hint at some form of need for destruction. He pulls at his shirt, grips too hard, nearly rips out his own hair.

Yeah, extreme traumas will do that to anyone. Bruce replied to himself. As for it all being a trick... well... Bruce didn't want it to be a trick, for now he would accept Danny's actions at face value, but he will be keeping an eye out for anything worse. A lot of the data, if not all, pointed to the GIW being wrong about Danny, he wasn't sure why they were telling him these things in the first place. Something bigger was going on here, so Bruce would continue with caution, he will act once he knew what was really going on.

Then a new line appeared on the screen. A short one.

We have decided you may keep the subject for now.

Bruce did not trust it, especially with words like 'for now'. Nor was it lost on him that they kept telling him how dangerous Danny was, how Bruce wouldn't be able to handle him. That was another checkmark in the 'weapon for the GIW' category if they were willing to part with the so-called 'danger to the world' for the sake of taking out an opponent. But that would also mean Danny might actually try to kill them if he thinks it makes the GIW happy...

But I would heed these warnings.

If you were to go public with this, not only would the abomination have more fuel than it had ever achieved before but you might find more than one truth known to the public in which you do not want to be known.

Bruce clenched his jaw and his fist, the threat obvious but only a little bit glad he had time to fix his identity issue if the GIW planned on keeping it to themselves for now. Though Bruce could not be sure the GIW would tell someone anyway, sell it to other villains.

Secondly, it is going to eat your soul if you do not know how to combat it.

We have taken the liberty to decode the relevant files and you will soon receive a package that will contain tools to contain the abomination if it ever gets too out of hand. If you do not wish to combat it yourself feel free to contact us and we will swiftly take care of the problem.

Bruce knew they needed to leave now, they couldn't stay at the manor, much too compromised. He had known this in the back of his head since the first attack he was made known of, but now he could only stare it in the face. For his family's safety, they needed to move out to one of their safe houses, possibly a brand new one that wasn't on the records yet, one not tied to either Bruce Wayne or Batman. They needed to lose the GIW's impossible tracking.

Then Bruce's gut sank even lower.

If you fail to use either of those options we will bide our time. If you do not make the smart choice and return the scum to us we will come contain it after you have been removed from the equation.

We will be watching and waiting.

Good luck Mr. Wayne.

Bruce put another tick mark in the 'unwilling weapon for GIW' in his mental T-chart of data splitting Danny being a victim and Danny being the villain. The victim side was winning.

Bruce barely blinked and suddenly the screen went black before returning to the open files Bruce had been decoding before the GIW hijacked it. A quick look told him they were indeed all uncoded and probably held some more horrible things that had been done to Danny in the name of 'safety'.

Something caught his eye though, a new file that wasn't there before. He hovered the mouse over it but didn't click, reading the file name that didn't previously exist. 'Fair Game', Bruce narrowed his eyes at the file's name, it didn't fit with the others. All the others were named things like 'Ghost Gloves', 'Specter Deflector', 'Ghost Sheild', and 'Ghost Peeler' each some sort of tool used against ghosts. What was the 'Fair Game' file and why wasn't it there before?

Putting that on the back burner, Bruce quickly digressed to more important matters. He looked back over his phone to see Danny's room with Alfred and Dick inside, the child himself still in bed. From what Bruce could tell the halfa wasn't too startled, but he was huddled protectively on top of a pillow with his back to the headrest.

Bruce texted Alfred, giving them the all-clear that whatever it was was over now and they should probably return to give Danny some space. He saw Alfred look at the text and bid Danny farewell, Dick doing something similar even though Bruce could tell Dick wanted to stay just in case. Bruce didn't think that was a bad idea either, but right now he needed to speak with both Dick and Alfred.

Soon enough they came back into the room, Dick frowning and loitering by the door like he was ready to bolt back into Danny's room at a moment's notice.

"The threat has been neutralized?" Alfred asked, his wise eyes scanning the room to find no trace of any physical fighting despite Bruce's worn-out look.

"The GIW sent a message," Bruce spoke and both stiffened as Dick's head snapped to attention. "They gave me some information, I'm not sure of the validity of it all but they wanted me to believe Danny is evil." Bruce held up a hand as he saw Dick gearing up to argue, luckily his ward closed his mouth but didn't stop an angry huff from escaping. "I know Dick, so far Danny hasn't shown any signs of being even the slightest bit evil, but I won't ignore there is a chance of some part of him being dangerous, maybe even without his knowledge."

"Bruce—" Dick started, hands fisted at his sides and doom written in the shadows of his face.

"There's more Dick, I'll be happy to argue with you once you have all the facts." Bruce stopped him, "They say they are going to allow us to keep Danny for now." That got a surprised jolt from the boy and Bruce nodded his agreement to the reaction. "They also said they were going to deliver us some of their technology, under the pretense of us being able to defend ourselves against Danny. So I've decided we need to move."

No one said anything for a few seconds before Alfred tilted his head, "Move, sir?"

"The GIW know this location, they know the secret and threatened to out it if we made Danny's case go public. I don't like the GIW knowing where we are, we need a new base of operations that isn't tied to either identity where Danny can still heal. I'd like for this to happen sooner rather than later, I don't like the GIW thinking they can pop in whenever they want and take Danny."

Dick was unnatural silent throughout this, but apparently no longer. "So we're abandoning the Manor?"

"We're not abandoning it, its a tactical retreat for now. It won't be forever, I promise." Bruce said, "Until the GIW is taken down and our secret and Danny are safe."

"What about the basement?" Dick argued, "What about the other people who need us?"

"I'll make sure our normal schedule is not interrupted much, this is for everyone's safety. I wouldn't be offering this plan if I didn't think it was necessary." Bruce replied, having expected this reaction, "It won't be immediate either, nothing is going to change too much too soon. We sill have to include moving Danny and I haven't quite worked out how to do that yet without crossing any lines."

Dick folded his arms and leaned up against the wall. "Yeah, I suppose. He wasn't exactly thrilled when we busted into his room earlier." He gave Bruce a little glare for that and Bruce felt it.

"We'll figure out a solution that everyone agrees on. If one of you doesn't agree to any detail of the plan we won't do it, including Danny." Bruce promised. It was a tall order, he could see the genuine surprise on Dick and Alfred's faces. But it was necessary, and not without its contingencies. "But if things head south fast I expect everyone to listen to whatever plan I have, is that alright?"

Dick scowled, grumbling under his breath before nodding. Alfred dipped his head too with a, "Understood, Master Bruce."

"Thank you." Bruce said, then tilted his head, "Was Danny alright?"

Dick shoved off the wall, walking over to the bed to grab the discarded tablet that had since returned to Danny's room surveillance. "Yeah, he wasn't too thrilled with us barging in, woke up right as we opened the door. I'm pretty sure he was expecting the GIW, he didn't try to hide but he made it clear he wanted to stay away from us. I tried talking to him a little, he was too spooked though."

Bruce nodded with a frown, moving to his desk to sit back down and work. "Better than a panic attack at least."

"Perhaps one of us should stay with the boy?" Alfred spoke, walking over to Bruce.

The man sighed deeply and shook his head. "I don't want to stress him out with someone's presence when he should be sleeping. He needs all the rest he can get and I want him to feel safe, even if it means being alone. We're keeping a good enough eye on him from here, if we're vigilant Danny doesn't have to."

"Then when might you rest Master Bruce?" Alfred probed gently, a worried furrow wrinkling his brow.

"When I can," Bruce answered sparsely, not meaning to be rude, but meaning to be efficient. Bruce can sleep when the situation grants him permission and not before. He looked down at his laptop, intending to figure out what that oddly named file meant and how it came to be on his computer when he certainly didn't take it. Another 'gift' from the GIW? Bruce wouldn't say it out loud, but he was glad to be getting some of their technology, if only just in case Danny was evil like they claimed. But that was a very very small part of him, he hoped Danny was just the scared child that he was. The main reason he was glad to be getting some of their technology was purely because of the detective and engineer inside of him. He wanted to know how all this ecto-stuff worked, how they were able to weaponize it and how to neutralize it.

He missed Alfred's disapproving frown, clicking away at the mysterious file that had no business existing. A diagram popped up, something that looked to be a watch, Bruce almost didn't take it seriously. But of course the GIW weren't that stupid, it must have some sort of—

"BRUCE! BRUCE! Danny is trying to strangle himself with the cape!" Dick's frantic shouting snapped Bruce out of his thoughts, the man already out of his seat at the word 'strangle'.

He didn't even remember exiting the room, leaving the toppled chair and the worry stricken butler in his wake. His mind felt in a haze, a familiar one at that, but a haze filled with the need to move faster, move faster, save Danny. He just remembered charging into Danny's room, throwing the door open and zeroing in on the little halfa stumbling in place. Danny's hands were fumbling with the cape, pulling on the ends and losing his balance as the the black and yellow fabric synched tight around his thin and scarred neck.

"Danny! No!" Bruce roared as he lunged forward.

Bruce didn't have time for Danny's full body flinch and frightened squeak. He was focused on keeping the ghost boy from tightening or otherwise impending Bruce's attempts to stop Danny from strangling himself. He wrenched each of the child's tiny wrists from the ends of the cape and collected them in one of his big hands. He held the hands down, the thin body connected to it breathing too fast and loud.

Danny was choking, making gasping rasping noises that made Bruce's anxiety rise. His free hand was already latched onto the cape that was too tight, trying to tug the impromptu noose looser both swiftly and gently. The rest of the boy was trembling, even the little hands he was gripping between his fingers. His entire body jolted every time Bruce's hand yanked on the cape, fingers grazing the fresh scars ringing the boy's sensitive neck. Deep in his mind Bruce knew he was probably scaring Danny the second half way to death but right now that was far from his thoughts. The immediate need was to keep Danny alive because the cape wasn't coming loose. The cape wasn't coming loose. Why isn't the cape coming loose?! Bruce could barely get a single finger into the loop, somehow Danny was able to knot the cape impossibly tight.

Bruce felt frantic as he searched for the knot, grabbing the boy's shoulder to twist him this way and that. When he spotted the mess of cape he dove for it, letting go of the boy's wrists so he could undo the knot without needlessly tightening the cape. After careful pulling and a frustrated sigh the cape finally unraveled and Bruce tossed it away. Bruce put both of his giant hands on the boy's boney shoulders to stare at the sweet innocent child that had tried to take the rest of his own life.

"Why would you do that?!" Bruce demanded of the child, only then noticing the boy's pale, bloodless face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks in twin rivers on either side of his small nose, his green eyes were dark and the widest Bruce had ever seen them. They were staring at Bruce, a complicated cacophony of fear, terror, and absolute horror translating through that stare.

Then a certain smell hit Bruce's nose and the boy's weight was suddenly in his hands. Bruce looked down at the same time Danny did, each ending at the same destination.

"Oh, Danny... I-"

Bruce didn't know what to say, the smell of urine and fear nearly palpable between them. Danny was hardly breathing, the dark stain spreading between the child's legs traveling down, changing the white bandages over his legs and feet to yellow.

A new type of horrible hole dug into Bruce's chest. He did that. He scared Danny so much he wet himself. Like Batman did to criminals.

Danny met his gaze when Bruce looked up. The tears were dry. Only horror shone on the child's face. Wide scared eyes were dilated, the green rim much less the toxic variety and much more a normal dark emerald green. They stared at Bruce, watching and waiting for more terror to be delivered.

Yup, go ahead, send the pitchforks and the knives and basically anything you can throw at me, send friggin Bill the dorito.

I have been thinking of this cliff hanger for mOnthS and yAy it's finally hEre which means I can do the nExt scene and yAy.

Ngl I can't promise a when, college sucks when you're trying to write, I'm going to start my math class tomorrow so idk how that'll fit into my schedule now but I WILL WRITE IF ITS THE LAST THING I FRIGGIN DO CUZ GOSH DANG IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO AND I PROLLY WOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN THIS FAR IF YOU GUYS HANDNT BEEN SO AMAZING FOR BOTH THIS STORY AND ALL MY OTHER STORIES AND THE ORIGINAL STORY SO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!GAH I LOVE YOU, I LOVE STORIES, I LOVE DANNY AND BRUCE AND DICK AND NUGGETS I LOVE FLUFF AND ANGST

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER YOU FUNKY INTERNET HUMANS