The sky was clear and the streets of Gotham City were full. Masses of people moved along the sidewalks, some with children at their hands, some with full bags of food and other supplies. Some wore casual clothing, some wore sportswear. And some wore suits. One of those suits belonged to none other than famous billionaire Bruce Wayne, who, at this pace, was going to be late for one of his charity events. Bruce was a rather broad man and therefore could not simply slip between the people around him. Although he might be moving faster on foot now than he had been able to with the car, the journey was still agonizingly slow. The few people that recognized him and stared or tried to ask weird questions did not exactly help either. His faithful butler and friend Alfred Pennyworth was a great help in keeping most curious pedestrians off his back, but since Bruce was walking first, he had to fight his way through the crowd on his own. By the time they finally rounded the last corner and their destination came into view, the sidewalk was milling with remarkably less people and Bruce and Alfred could pick up their pace. They were only about two blocks away when something, or rather someone, caught Bruce's eye. Brows furrowed in confusion, he caught up to that person, grabbed their arm and spun them around to look at him.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asked, tone hard and slightly accusing.

The person, a boy with raven black hair and bright blue eyes, seemed beyond surprised at the man's actions. Eyes wide, he quickly tugged his arm free and put a few feet of distance between them.

"Hey, leave your hands off me!" he protested, shocking Bruce and Alfred, who now stood almost directly next to Bruce.

Both decided not to comment on it for now and deal with the more urgent matter. Just what was he doing here?

"You're supposed to be at the manor, remember?"

The boy was obviously even more perplexed after that.

"Look," he said. "I don't know who you are, and honestly I don't care, okay? So if you would just leave me be-"

"Wait," Bruce interrupted. "Do you see that?" he asked Alfred, gesturing to the boy's face.

If you looked close enough, you could notice the older man's face light up along Bruce's.

"Dick has a birthmark, right there." Bruce pointed towards the left side of the boy's face, close to his ear. "Which means this is not Dick."

This left all three of them confused, for different reasons. The boy's gaze moved between Alfred and Bruce as he seemed to contemplate just running away and staying as far from these weird people as possible. Bruce sighed and gave the boy an apologetic look.

"I am sorry. I confused you with someone else."

"Um, it's alright, I guess," the boy - that was not Dick - replied akwardly.

The two adults shared a glance, Alfred silently telling Bruce it was time they showed up at their destination, Bruce telling Alfred it would have to wait. He held his hand out for the boy to take and politely introduced himself.

"My name is Bruce Wayne."

The boy eyed his hand and, after a moment, hesitantly shook it.

"Danny."

It was so small, Bruce almost did not catch it. For some reason, the billionaire had the feeling this boy was incredibly uncomfortable just talking to him. Sure, they were complete strangers, Danny had said so. But then again, to Bruce it seemed so normal talking to the boy that looked almost exactly like his ward, his son.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Danny."

"Yeah, you too."

Bruce would have been amused if it had been anyone else giving him that answer, but he was so used to Dick's confidence that it left him completely stunned seeing this Danny kid act the way he was.

"Master Bruce. I do not wish to interrupt, however you are expected to speak at your party. If you prefer not to miss it I suggest we continue on our way, sir." Alfred reminded.

Bruce nodded and gave Danny a last friendly smile.

"Alright, Danny. I have to go."

Danny smiled back weakly.

"Goodbye, Mr Wayne." he said and was gone so fast Bruce did not get the chance to reply.

"Well, that was interesting."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

Dick Grayson was a smart kid. He may have been only twelve years old, but he surely was not an ordinary twelve-year-old. Which meant that there was no way he could ignore the weird looks Bruce was giving him. It had started two days before, after he had come home from a charity event Dick had been banned from due to his week long house arrest. It was not like he liked those kinds of events, quite the contrary. All he ever had to do there was smile and play the nice, obedient ward of Bruce Wayne. But if it meant he knew what was going on with his guardian, he would not complain. Because to be honest, it was staring to really freak him out how every time Dick would enter the room Bruce would look at him really intensely, as though he were looking for something in his face, and then get this odd thoughtful kind of look right afterwards.

At first Dick had shrugged it off and thought nothing much of it, but when Bruce had kept it up for the rest of the day he had decided to ask him about it. All he had gotten out of the man was that he had met someone interesting while he had been out and that Dick should not worry about it. The way he had said it indicated that he had not been speaking of a woman. Naturally, Dick's worry and curiosity had only increased after that. He had asked the one other living occupant of Wayne manor for advice on the matter and gotten virtually the same answer Bruce had already given him. Being that Alfred was probably the most responsible out of the three of them, Dick had deemed it safe to wait out another day to see if it got any better.

When he came down to the dining room the next morning to find Bruce hastily handing Alfred the daily newspaper and telling the butler to "get this somewhere he won't see it", Dick immediately threw the possibility of any sort of improvement on the strange situation straight out of the window. Alfred only nodded and proceeded to leave the room, newspaper in hand, while Bruce turned around, instantly spotting Dick in the doorway. Aaaaand there was the look again.

"Good morning, Dick."

"Morning," Dick replied, eyes narrowed slightly and less cheery, which Bruce either did not notice or simply chose not to comment on.

They ate in silence for a while, the air missing the usual rustling of a newspaper in Bruce's hands. Alfred was still nowhere to be seen. Bruce was staring down at the table, obviously in deep thought. Dick was staring at Bruce, trying to figure out the mystery that was his guardian. When the billionaire-by-day-vigilante-by-night actually missed his mouth with the fork he was handling, Dick had enough. Sighing, he went to stand next to Bruce, taking the man's plate and shoving it slowly out of reach. It concerned the twelve-year-old even more when it took Bruce a few seconds to react. This had to be serious. When he finally looked at him, Dick spoke.

"Alright, Bruce. We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About what is going on," Dick felt like they were playing with reversed roles. "The person you met a few days ago, who was that?"

"No one important."

Bruce tried to wave him off, looking absolutely nonchalant. Dick would have totally bought it if he did not know how well his guardian could act and to not right out take him for real.

"Don't lie to me. I want to know why you are so troubled."

"I'm not troubled," Bruce denied.

"Yes you are. You're not acting like yourself. And you know exactly just how dangerous that can be in our field of work. Please, just tell me what's going on."

"I'm alright. There's nothing you need to worry about," was all Bruce said before he left the room and made his way towards his study.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

The only other times Alfred had seen Bruce like this had been shortly before he had decided to dress up like a bat and fight bad guys and right after the death of Mary and John Grayson when he had decided to take in their nine-year-old son. Considering those times and what he had read in the newspaper this morning, he thought he had an idea about what the man was planning. Alfred also knew it was going to be hard to convince Bruce to let go of his idea. As he wandered down the manor's upper hallway, he took notice of one particular open door, the door to Bruce's study. Quietly, Alfred entered the room to a pacing, deep in thought Bruce. He patiently waited for the other to notice him before he spoke.

"I believe I have seen all of this before, sir."

Bruce stopped behind his desk, sank heavily into his chair and tiredly ran a hand over his face. Coffee could only do so much to keep someone awake and alert. The man's eyes rested on the newspaper that was lying on the mahogany surface of the desk. It was the very same one Alfred had placed there that morning. The page it was opened to held two pictures. One showed a mostly destroyed building and a couple of people around it such as the police and men in white uniforms that Alfred did not recognize. The other image was obviously supposed to be a family picture. It presented two adults, one man and a woman, a girl, probably around fourteen, and a boy. A very familiar looking boy.

"Family dies tragic death in their own home, twelve-year-old son possibly still alive," Bruce read aloud.

"Are you sure it was indeed him, sir?" Alfred asked.

"This article says the boy's name is Daniel Fenton; Danny would be a very possible nickname. And except for the fact that his hair in this picture is slightly shorter, he looks exactly the same."

"And how would the boy have ended up in Gotham City? As I recall he lived in a small town in Illinois. Someone surely would have noticed," Alfred argued, making Bruce sigh in frustration.

"I don't know. But now everytime I think about our encounter I see his nervousness in a completely different light. What if... what if the explosion was not an accident? And now Daniel is running from whoever targeted him and his family."

"Master Bruce, do you not think that you might be jumping to conclusions?"

Bruce tried giving the older man a glare, only to fail miserably. He could not glare at Alfred.

"Maybe you're right. But there is also the chance that I'm not. I have to do some research. Excuse me."

With a determined look, Bruce left Alfred on his own. The butler sighed quietly as he walked over to the desk and picked up the newspaper. If this boy was indeed still alive, he must be broken hearted. Just like Dick had been, after witnessing his own parents' murder. It almost seemed like destiny's cruel idea of a joke that the two boys shared something other than age and looks. And Alfred had the feeling that destiny still had a lot more to dump on them.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

I do not own Danny Phantom or any of its characters. Neither do I own Young Justice or any of the DC Universe characters.

Hey there! I hope you all liked this chapter. :) I feel it's a little rushed, but I'm mostly satisfied with how it turned out. I would highly appreciate any feedback (and votes...) as always! Thanks for reading.

FaHa :)