i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.
He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.
And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.
And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.
Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.
Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."
There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.
It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.
Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.
At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.
"Do you like to do anything?"
Nothing. Just silence.
Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.
Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.
Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.
And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.
He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.
Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.
So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.
"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"
"Don't."
He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.
Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"
"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."
It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"
The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."
Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."
And they fall back into silence.
Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."
He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.
(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)
At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.
Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.
("Tucker told me once--")
("Tucker?")
("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")
(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)
(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)
It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."
The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."
The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.
When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.
Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.
"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."
When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.
Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.
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So, I was thinking about Dick Grayson, specifically Dick Grayson's head... when he was 7 he climbed up the stairs in the circus tend to get to the trapeze but slipped and fell down [Nightwing #114] A very funny way to get your first concussion, right? Of course, many more followed over the years (that's what happens when you become Robin!) Then, in his early 20s he was shot in the head — not as fun as a concussion. Now, that alone would be enough to ban him from any dangerous sport or activity for the rest of his life, but of course, Dick Grayson is Dick Grayson, who also happens to be Nightwing. So he kept doing his usual stuff, leaping from high buildings, doing acrobatics, punching — and getting punched — every damn night... all with just his domino mask covering his face (I mean, he got a damn head injury, you would think he would be wearing some kind of head protections, right? Wrong, because that would at least partially cover his amazing curls, and to Dick Grayson that would be equal to commit war crimes, so it's out of question) And of course he keeps getting hit in the head and getting concussions. Which leads us to our scenario:
It's a usual night out patrolling, and Dick and Tim are fighting some crooks. Nothing too big, until one of them hits Dick in the head (for the nth time!) It's a good one, but not hard enough to knock out a Batkid. Except, Dick Grayson's head is slightly more fragile than his brothers’, and the punch hits the point where he was previously shot. He gasps, and everything goes black for a moment. Dick Grayson falls, head spinning violently, his vision blurring as colors and sounds fade together. He hears Tim's distant voice calling him, to which he promptly replies with an unsteady "I'm fine", except of course he's not fine. He holds himself against the wall, his face crunched in a pained grimace, trying to stand up because Tim needs him and no way he gets knocked out so easily. But Tim shouts back, punching another guy in the face, "Stay there! Don't move!" followed by some swearing because dammit, Dick!
When the bad guys are fixed, Tim rushes to Dick, who is still miraculously awake.
"Jeez, you're bleeding."
"Am I? I didn’t realize it."
"Yeah..." Tim holds two fingers up. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Dick smirks. "I'd say three, but there’s four of you now, so maybe a couple more?"
There's a moment of silence. Tim sighs. He opens the comms.
"Red Robin here, I'm taking Nightwing back in. He's injured. It'd only be dangerous for him to keep patrolling."
Bruce's steady voice croaks in their ears. "Copy, Red Robin. What happened?"
And Dick, leaning against his brother as they reach the batmobile, darts a pleading look at him. It's almost working, until Tim speaks again over the comms: "He got hit in the head."
And all the Bats know what that means. A chorus of sighs raises:
"Again?!"
"You never learn, hm?"
"Is he unconscious? Do you need backup?"
"You're incorrigible!"
"Please, just take my helmet next time. I'd paint it blue if you want, but take it! — I have an entire stock at home, anyway."
And Dick, stumbling with his eyes half-closed and one of the worst migraine of his life, just smiles sheepishly. "Sorry!" he manages to crack over the comms as Tim rolls his eyes next to him.
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