Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A shrill alarm wakes Tim up from what had been a pretty decent nap. 

He ignores his body's protests for more sleep, figuring he's probably had enough if he's feeling like this. He has a lot of work to do anyway. Standing next to his bed in Wayne Manor, Tim stretches, his back giving several satisfying cracks as he sighs in relief. He's itching for a pot of coffee right now so he makes his way to the kitchen. 

The lack of sound is the first sign that something is wrong. 

When Tim first moved in with Bruce, he hadn't known it was possible that people could make a house feel alive with just their presence. Back at Drake Manor, Tim had always been alone, only receiving the occasional visit from a housekeeper every couple of days and his parents every few months. One light isn't enough to keep a whole house warm. 

Tim may have been the only child living in Wayne Manor at the time, but he was far from alone. 

Dick had warmed up to him by then, even if it was out of a sense of misplaced guilt, dropping by every other week when he managed to get time away from Blüdhaven. Alfred was practically everywhere and nowhere all at once, always there when you needed him but never when you're expecting. Bruce was a little more complicated, splitting his time between his study and the Batcave and a little bit at his office in Wayne Enterprises. 

As the years went on, the house gained more members. Tim met Cass, who had technically been there before he had and the two of them slowly drew up a close dynamic. Jason came back and, despite their nearly fatal introduction, he eventually started making visits to the Cave, occasionally making it upstairs once in a while. Duke had his chaotic introduction and, though Tim wasn't there for much of his beginning, he was trying to be there now. Damian was last and his relationship with Tim left much to be desired and involved more injury than Tim was comfortable with but they were working on it. 

The point is, at some point or another, Wayne Manor has always been alive with its inhabitants. 

Instead, it's almost as quiet as back in Drake Manor and it sends a shiver done Tim's spine. His heart starts to pick up speed. 

Tim's footsteps are muffled by the carpet as he walks down the hallway. Each look into a bedroom feels like looking into an old photograph, frozen in time without any sign of present life. Arriving at the staircase, he looks around, hoping that someone, anyone, will come running up to greet him. Something to prove that he's not as alone as he feels. 

Nothing happens. 

The dimly lit lights seem to mock Tim as he walks down the stairs. His footsteps are the only source of sound, right after the sound of his heart beating fasting and faster the more he finds nothing. 

Downstairs shows more of the same thing. The kitchen is empty but the table has been set for a meal that hasn't happened yet. The living rooms and libraries look like they haven't been touched in a while yet there's no speck of dust. There's absolutely no sign of life in a house that used to be brimming with it. 

As a last ditch effort, Tim rushes to the study. Surely, if there's going to be people anywhere, it would be down there. It's as relieving as it is unsurprising to find that the grandfather clock is still in its place but he can't be blamed for doubting it. Tim knocks on a wood panel next to the clock, a familiar hollow noise telling him all he needs to hear. It's with that small comfort that he pulls open the glass that covers the clock face and moves the hands to the appropriate time. 

The grandfather clock clicks open, bringing with it a rush of cold air and the sound of voices rising from below. Tim's heart speeds up again, a heady mix of fear and excitement. 

Static runs up his spine when Tim moves to take a step in. He hesitates, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The sense of something wrong magnifies itself by ten, something screaming in the back of his head there's something wrong here this is wrong don't go down there. 

But... there are people down there, someone aside from Tim to fill this empty house. And there's something in him that feels so alone, so lonely, that he's willing to risk whatever is in store for him down there if it means he'll find some other company. Damn the risks. He takes a deep breath and begins to creep down the stairs. 

"We can't trust him anymore, B!" 

That's the first thing Tim hears when he gets close enough and it sends another shock of static through him. He recognizes that voice. That's Dick, sounding not just upset but genuinely angry. It makes Tim uneasy as he halts midstep, just outside the doorway, dusting off unwanted memories. 

"And why not?" Bruce sounds in different, simply fishing for information. About what, though? Who can't be trusted? 

"Did you not hear a word I said?" Jason asks. "The kid is dead, and didn't even finish the job. I know I'm not one to talk, but there is something extremely fucked up about that. We need to do something about him." 

Tim's heart speeds up. Who's halfway dead? Is that even possible? 

Damian clicks his tongue, a harsh noise in the tense atmosphere. "You should have done something about him years ago. I tried but, unfortunately, he always managed to evade my attempts." 

"He's still your brother, Damian." 

"Not by blood," Damian snarls. "And definitely not by choice." 

Bruce sighs. "So, what, exactly, are you guys saying we do about this?" 

"It's simple." Dick says. "we need to fully kill Tim." 

Tim's breath catches. For a second, he chokes on air and in the quiet atmosphere of the Cave, it rings out like a scream. He covers his mouth, cursing his own functions, but he knows it's too late. There's no way they didn't hear him. 

Because Tim definitely heard them. And they were just talking about trying to kill him. For not being fully dead. What does that even mean? How could Tim be half dead? Wouldn't he know if he was? Tim doesn't remember dying, hasn't even come close to it since his stabbing in the desert and then his fall from the tower. But why would killing him be the final answer? Surely, there are other options. Bruce has the whole no killing rule, even if Jason and Damian get special privilege around it sometimes. Nothing explains why his family is suddenly out for his blood. 

Shuffling noises come from the next room. Tim imagines they're trying to straighten themselves out, trying to appear like they weren't just arguing over the literal end of his life. 

"Tim?" Dick's voice is lighter, forcefully cheery despite the last words he said. "Is that you?" 

Tim doesn't answer. He's scared what will happen if he does. 

"It's okay, sport," Bruce says, all faux warmth and comfort. He doesn't buy it for a second. 

Hand still over his mouth, Tim takes a few steps back. If he's quick enough, he can race back upstairs and pretend this whole thing never happened. Maybe he can call Barbara or Steph. He's not entirely sure what Cass or Duke are up to but it has to be better than whatever is happening down here. 

Tim bumps into something solid. He doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. 

"Sorry, Replacement." Jason says, sounding not at all apologetic. A rough hand covers Tim's own over his mouth, bringing with it the smell of gunpowder and leather. Another wrangles around Tim's front, crushing Tim in an unrelenting hold despite all of his squirming. "Gotta do what we gotta do." 

Tim rams his head backwards with more force than he meant to, freeing himself from Jason's hand and hitting his nose with a satisfying crack. Jason lets out a grunt of pain, his arm squeezing around Tim's middle in a painful retaliation. He adjusts his hold, fixing his hand over Tim's mouth again despite Tim kicking at his legs. 

Jason forces him to walk into the light of the Cave and through his struggling, Tim can make out where Dick, Bruce, and Damian are sitting around the meeting table. Despite the past few minutes, they all look calm and composed. It makes his stomach twist again and something sharp sparks in his chest. 

For a second, no one says anything. 

Tim takes the opportunity to yank his head out from under Jason's hold and immediately jams an elbow into his ribs. Jason lets out a wheeze, the surprise making him retract his arm so Tim can slip out and duck around the man as he runs towards the staircase. 

He hardly gets three steps in before something snags around his ankle and Tim gets a flash of déjà vu. A rooftop in Gotham, glowing green pooling at his feet as he walked away from two foggy figures. More glowing white twisting around his ankles and dragging him towards an unknown fate like a soul damned to hell. 

The momentary lapse in awareness is all Jason needs to slam Tim into the ground, his chin banging into the floor with enough force to bruise. The déjà vu rings its head again but Tim refuses to acknowledge it this time. 

"You're not going anywhere, Little Red," Jason says. One hand presses between Tim's shoulder blades, pinning his upper body. His right food crushes Tim's wrist to the ground while his left leg kneels against the back of Tim's legs. The only free limb is Tim's left hand but there's nothing he can do from this angle. "We have something to talk about." 

"I have nothing to say to you guys." Tim spits out blood. He must've bitten his cheek when he hit the ground. It tastes different than normal but Tim hardly notices it. Hopefully, the dramatic works in his favor. 

"That–" A small hand grabs a fistful of Tim's hair and yanks up, putting awkward strain on Tim's neck as a knife slides into the free space. "–is a lie," Damian hisses. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." And he doesn't. Tim really, really doesn't. Last night, he remembers they were jumping over rooftops, stifled laughter filling the air between crimes and busts. Everything was normal. And then Tim wakes up to an empty manor and walks down here to find them planning his murder and he has no idea why or what changed. 

Static runs up his spine again, mixing with the sound of his blood pounding in his ears. How fast can his heart keep beating before he passes out? He feels the knife slide away but not without a sting of pain that lets Tim know there's a new cut there. Typical. 

The pressure leaves Tim's back. It's a momentary reprieve before his body is roughly hauled up to a standing position. Tim refuses to be helpful, letting his body hang with his dead weight even when Jason kicks at the back of his calves. He settles for dragging Tim up to the head of the table. 

Damian takes his place next to Dick. There's the barest hint of a smirk on his face whereas Dick looks like he's trying to keep a neutral face. Despite not currently wearing the cowl, there is no doubt that Bruce is currently in Batman mode. Combined with the bruising grip Jason has on his wrists, Tim is feeling very much not safe right now. He wonders if they'd kill him now just to get it over with. 

"Tim," Bruce says in his usual low grumble, "do you have anything that you've been meaning to tell us?" 

Tim shakes his head, desperate for them to believe him. "I swear, I'm not hiding anything." 

Damian makes his -tt- noise. "Another lie, Drake? Really? There's no use when the evidence is literally dripping down your throat." 

Tim pales. What evidence? How is his blood evidence? What's so different about it now? 

Jason shifts behind him, moving his wrists into one hand as the other sweeps in front of Tim, roughly swiping across the fresh wound on Tim's throat. He flinches at the touch and then again when he sees what's on Jason's fingers. 

It's green. Tim's blood is no longer a deep, dark red but instead a bright neon green. 

Without his permission, Tim is seized by memories again. 

The hotel, the Fenton's, the ghost portal. Dying and coming back, only halfway for both. Danny Fenton, no, Danny Phantom. Lightning green scars that race up and down his body, vibrant yellow eyes and glowing white hair. Learning about his new biology, stopping a break in with his powers, learning how to use them properly with Danny's family and friends. Jason finding him after a month and bringing him back to a safe house only for them all to get swept up in someone kidnapping Danny and Jazz's parents, the same people who made Tim what he is now. 

He remembers. But there's still something missing, something to explain what happened between then and now to get Tim to end up here. 

Tim comes back from his memories with a gasp. In his disappearance, it seems his fami– no, his captors did not wait for him. he find himself strapped down to a medical gurney in the Med Bay. Bruce and Dick stand on one side of Tim while Jason and Damian stand on the other. They're all wearing medical masks and the sight makes Tim sick with what Danny had once said. 

"My folks... they hate ghosts. They say they love him but sometimes I think they hate Phantom more. They already talk about how they want to tear Phantom to shreds, molecule by molecule. If they ever found out about me, I'm not sure their love for me could pit against their hate for Phantom. Let's just hope it never comes around to that." 

Tim tries to squirm on the table but the straps are pulled taunt, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. They're pulled tight across his chest and hips along with two on each arm and leg. 

"Guys, this is just a misunderstanding. Let me explain." 

Jason tuts, waving a marker in the air. "See, where was that enthusiasm a few moments ago, Replacement? If you had just cooperated earlier, we wouldn't have to do this." 

"Do– Do what?" Tim can't help but stutter. 

A pair of scissors and a scalpel appear out of nowhere. "We have to see what we're working with, obviously." 

Tim's disbelief turns to anger now that he remembers Jason's new role in his life. He thrashes wildly on the table, possible injuries be damned. "You told them, didn't you? You told them what happened to me?" Jason doesn't even bother to look ashamed, simply shrugging his shoulders, the scissors and scalpel and marker still in his hands. "I trusted you! You told me you cared!" 

"I would have told you anything if it meant I could drag you back here, Replacement. Besides, between you and me," Jason leans down close until he's right next to Tim's ear, "I care more about my place in the family than I care about yours." When he leans back, Tim can practically see the sadistic smirk behind that paper mask. 

Tim growls and he feels something burst to life behind his ribs. The spark from before catches fire, leaving behind a crackling storm that fills Tim's veins. It's the only warning he gets before some kind of green energy bursts from his hands, burning holes in the wall across. 

Stunned silence follows. 

Jason reaches across Tim's bound body to punch Dick in the shoulder. "I fucking told you! There's something wrong with him!" 

Bruce hums. All eyes turn to him. "Damian, get a paralytic." 

Damian nods, his head disappearing from Tim's perspective. 

Tim looks at Bruce. He doesn't know what expression is on his face but Tim can read the clear indifference in Bruce's. It's the same one saw when he was thirteen-years-old and the years that followed. The same one Tim still sometimes thinks he sees in Bruce's eyes today when he looks at Tim. It makes him a little desperate. "Bruce. Please. Let me explain." 

Bruce continues to stare. Then he looks away. Tim's heartbeat increases to an even heavier thump ba-thump ba-thump. He's not sure how none of them hear it. 

With the straps already holding him down, there's nothing to stop Bruce from injecting the drug into Tim's system. It burns, another memory trying to force itself to the front of Tim's mind but he fights against it. Around Tim, his brothers, his family they were supposed to be his family, watch him writhe around in pain. 

As a last ditch effort, Tim takes a deep breath, allowing his memories of Danny and the warehouse to fill him before the paralytic can. With all his might, he screams– no, he wails at the top of his lungs. He hopes Danny would be proud. 

The entire room shakes with the sound, like standing in the center of an earthquake. Above, the hanging lights rattle before they crash to the ground, plunging the room into near darkness. There's only the lights from the main section of the Cave and a greenish tint coming from Tim himself. All the glass and shelves shatter as cracks in the foundation start to appear and crawl their way to the ceiling. Outside the medical bay comes the sound of more crashing and metal crunching but it's deafened by the sound coming out of Tim's lungs. 

He doesn't know how long he goes on but by the time he finishes, Tim is heaving for breath with his eyes closed, refusing to look at anyone. He tries to get his breathing under control but now that he's started, it's like he can't stop and every breath is shorter than the last. his heartbeat is rising with it. He might be on the verge of a panic attack or already in the throws of one. 

Desperately, Tim lets out one last wail and feels his heart stop and his lungs give out as he succumbs to darkness. 

Tim wakes up confused, his body sore and chest still heaving like it was in his... dream? 

What was that? 

He tries to even out his breathing, the action much easier now than it was a few seconds ago. Though, things in real life are often easier than they are in dreams or nightmares or whatever that was. It felt more like a nightmare, everything feeling not just realistic but crossing over into too much too far territory. Every emotion, every injury, even the wails at the end and the static in his veins felt like they were dialed up to twenty. 

Now that there's oxygen reaching his brain, or, at the very least, flowing through his body, Tim feels like he can think a little more clearly. He realizes he recognizes this sensation. Maybe not this particular strain, but definitely something similar. 

Tim sighs, letting his head hang against his chest. "Fear Toxin." 

It's been a while since he's come into contact with Fear Toxin. That must've been what was injected into him by whoever when he drank that tea. What was in that tea? It didn't feel like a poison Tim had come into contact with before, hadn't affected him like anything he knows of. having so many unknowns with himself at the center of them is really starting to become frustrating. 

"You are a fascinating subject." 

A light flickers on across from Tim, who lifts his head up. There's a crick in his neck, an ache like he fell asleep in an uncomfortable position. It's only now that Tim registers the wooden chair he's sitting in, the softness of upholstered cushions against his back, butt, and arms. For the most part, he's not restrained, not like in his dream. Instead, there's only a thick metal surrounding Tim's wrists, bounding him to the wooden armrests. 

Across from him, lounging in what was probably the same chair as Tim, was Scarecrow. A burlap sack covers his face, a gas mask fitted into place where the mouth is. The rest of his clothes are how Tim remembers them, practical neutrals that most definitely hide other tricks and weapons under their sleeves. The most unusual thing is that he's got a clipboard in one hand, the other hand lazily writing things down as he continues to look at Tim. 

"Are you studying me?" Because there's no other explanation for what's going on here. The only answer he gets is the scratching of pen on paper. He is. Scarecrow is sitting across from Tim, who had previously been injected with Fear Toxin, and is taking notes on his reactions. What the fuck is going on? 

The pen clicks. Scarecrow's attention turns back to Tim. "Did you know that, for just a second, your heart stopped?" 

What? "What?" 

"I've seen it happen before. Some people's systems aren't built to handle even the smallest amounts of my Fear Toxin. They simply give out at the slightest hint of too much emotional stress. Other people, the luckier ones, last much longer. I've also found that personal experiences can greatly affect the duration and effect of my Fear Toxin on people." 

Tim knows all this. He's seen it quite a bit over the years, experience it for himself too. But Scarecrow doesn't know that, because Tim was kidnapped and drugged as a civilian and, as far as the general public knows, Timothy Drake has very seldom, if ever, come into contact with fear toxin. So, he nods his head, playing along to see where it gets him. 

"It's not the first time I've seen a heart give out as a reaction. It is, however, the first time I've seen one restart. It makes me wonder what would have had to happen in your personal life to allow my fear toxin to kill and then revive you." Scarecrow leans forward in his seat. "You're not entirely human, are you?" 

He does not flinch, despite how the question reminds him a little too much of his nightmare. He tugs his wrists against the metal cuffs, just to remind himself that he's here, not there. "What do you mean?" 

Scarecrow settles back down in his seat. He moves to rest the clipboard and pen on the same table as the lamp. All of his attention is on Tim. "Do you want to know how I escaped that wretched asylum?" 

Surprised at the sudden change in topic, Tim nods. 

"I was wasting away in my cell, planning my next escape, when I got an unexpected visitor. He flew through the walls without setting off any alarms only to fly into my cell only. He required me for a plan, you see, and needed my expertise in toxins and biochemistry. When I asked what was in it for me, do you know what the man told me?" 

Tim shook his head. Even behind the gas mask, he could imagine the wicked grin that spread on Scarecrow's face. 

"He promised me a new test subject, something beyond what the citizens of Gotham could offer me. Something not quite dead and not quite alive. I had to admit, I was equal parts fascinated and doubtful. I expressed these things and presented my own ultimatum. If he could get me out of Arkham without alerting the guards, I would work for him. Do you know what he did?" 

Scarecrow certainly was asking a lot of questions. Who did he think he was, Riddler? Tim shrugged anyway. He didn't like where this was going. 

"That man possessed me and I had to watch from the passenger seat as my body turned invisible and flew through Arkham like it was nothing. I am a man of my word, however, so after I was free and he provided me with the necessary materials, I to work. I've never made a poison from a flower, something I'm sure Ivy would have my head for, but it was fascinating to try to turn it into something palatable. I don't know the specific properties of the flower, but based off your reactions, I'd say it was quite successful. 

"I've never worked with a ghost before, let along a supposed 'half-ghost.' I didn't even know such a think existed. There's a first time for everything, I suppose." 

"You believe in ghosts?" Tim deflects. He takes the brief break in monologue to try and tap into his core. It wouldn't be wise to use his ghost power right now, not with Scarecrow so readily watching him. But if Crane really believes in ghosts, then maybe he could use the information to his own advantage. 

To Tim's surprise and sudden panic, he finds that he can't reach his ghost powers. He can't reach into his core at all. Sure, he can just barely feel that it's there but it's like the energy — warm and buzzing — has been locked behind some kind of wall. It leaves him feeling suddenly helpless and then immediately disgusted at himself for feeling like that. He went years without powers and now with only a month, had he really become so dependent on them? 

His eyes catch the gleaming metal of the cuffs and unfortunate understanding dawns on him. 

"I believe in evidence," Scarecrow says, unaware of the dilemma that Tim is facing. "And if evidence shows the existence of ghosts, then I am not going to argue that. In fact, I will greatly use that to my advantage. Starting with you." 

"What are you going to do to me?" 

"Experimentation, obviously. I had previously thought that I reached the human limit for human fear. But you, you present something entirely new, something untapped by science and curiosity." Crane reaches over, picking back up the clipboard and pen. "Based off my findings of you so far–" 

Tim waits for Scarecrow to continue, equal parts curious and terrified at what he might say and reveal about Tim. When only empty air fills the space, he opens his eyes, not realizing when he had closed them. 

In front of him, Scarecrow looks like he's been paused, his body still and his arm frozen in the air, clipboard and pen still in hand. Tim stares, confused. The hair on the back of his neck raises, his skin prickling as Tim coughs out a burst of yellow smoke. 

Scarecrow makes a choked noise as his body tenses up. It looks almost unnatural, as if he doesn't have complete control over his actions. He makes a few more gestures, each one more unnerving than the last. The final one before he slumps in his chair is a gloved hand reaching out for Tim. Not dangerously or threateningly, but almost strangely like a cry for help. The clipboard and pen clatter to the ground and Tim still looks on confused. 

"And that's enough of that." 

Tim looks around the room at the sound of the voice, unnerved at the sight he just witnessed, but he finds nothing. The rest of the lights turn on, stinging Tim's eyes at the sudden. brightness. When they adjust, he finds that there's someone standing behind the chair in front of him, someone who definitely wasn't there a second ago. 

With the rest of the lights on, Tim can finally see that he's in some sort of living room. It's not a hotel room, though, which he feels like he's had enough of for the next few years. It could be an apartment, or maybe even a penthouse, but he doesn't know who would bring him there or why. 

He takes a closer look at the new arrival. The first thing he notices is that the man is tall, likely around Bruce's height. The second is the jagged scar that crosses diagonally over his nose, starting under his left eye and dragging itself to break up the beginning of his right eyebrow. His hair is long and grey, tied back into a low ponytail at the back of his head with sparse streaks of black. He's wearing a suit, making Tim all the more aware of the sweatpants and Superboy t-shirt he was taken in. 

"Who are you?" He seems almost familiar, but there's still something about him that sets Tim on edge. 

The stranger waves a dismissive hand. With the other, he grabs the back of Scarecrow's chair and tips it forward, spilling the villain's unconscious body onto the floor with a painful thud. Tim stares on with something akin to shock at the carelessness as the man settles into the seat. "All in due time, my boy. For now, I'm much more curious about who you are." 

Tim looks down at where Scarecrow is crumpled next to the man's shoes before jumping back to the man, who watches Tim with amusement in his eyes. He does this two more times before deciding fuck it, he'll go along with this whole thing. It's probably the safer option. 

"Shouldn't you know?" Tim asks. "You're the one who kidnapped me, after all." 

The man lets out a half chuckle. "I suppose I did. Then let me tell you what I know of you." The man's previously polite voice sharpens like a knife. "You are Timothy Jackson Drake, son to the late Jack and Janet Drake. Since their passing a handful of years ago, you've been living with Bruce Wayne and have recently become the CEO of Wayne Enterprises yourself. Might I say, that is very impressive for someone of your age. But I don't care about all that, though it does serve to make you more interesting. Rather, I'm much more interested in the people you have decided to surround yourself with recently. You and I, Timothy, have mutual... companion of sorts and they appear to have taken a liking to you. You'll have to excuse me for wanting to see what all the fuss was about." 

Ignoring that the man seems to have done his research into Tim, which sends up so many red flags, he focuses on the last part. Because a mutual companion? Tim's been off the grid for a month, the only people he's really come into contact with lately being Jason, Danny, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker. Maybe someone Danny knows then? Was this a ghost? But he looked so human. Unless... 

"You're the other one, aren't you? The other halfa?" He almost relaxes at having solved one thing but Tim's still uneasy because he doesn't know why exactly the other half-ghost would search him out or how he did it. But it makes sense, this being the other halfa. The air around the man has an undercurrent of power, both the same one Tim's felt from Danny and the one Tim feels standing next to Batman. 

Danny had once described Vlad as a 'cheeseheaded fruit loop.' Tim didn't know what that meant and didn't have the time to ask before Danny threw another ball of ice at him but looking at Vlad now, he thinks he understands. 

Vlad brings his hands together to rest in his lap, completing the look of a stereotypical villain. All he needs is a cat and more sinister lighting. "You've heard of me. That's good. It would have taken Daniel much longer to figure that out. It'll make everything else considerably easier from here on out." 

He doesn't appreciate the dig at Danny's intelligence but he keeps his mouth shut about it for now. It's only years of experience that keeps his voice neutral despite feeling like he's only made of nerves and energy. "Vlad Masters, right? Danny called you Plasmius." 

"Correct." Approval shines in Vlad's eyes and Tim doesn't like it. "As a wealthy socialite myself, we may have run into each other at a gala or two in the past. If only I knew then what I knew now. I would have tried harder to get to know you." 

Tim grimaces. "You have to know that's creepy, right?" He decides then and there that Vlad and Ra's can never meet. Undoubtedly, nothing good could come from that. 

Vlad frowns. "Yes. Daniel tells me that I often come off as unsettling. I've been trying to work on it." 

He's not sure he trusts those words. "What are you doing in Gotham anyway? I thought you weren't currently running Amity Park into the ground?" 

There's a brief second where Vlad's face sours, his eyes narrowing as his mouth pinches into a frown before it quickly smooths out. He crosses his legs, waving a dismissive hand. "In time, my boy. Are all of the bats in this city this eager or is it just you?" 

If his heart wasn't already fucked, Tim's sure it would have stopped. As it is, the question shocks him enough that he feels a literal shock come from his body. It comes from his core, of that he is sure, and it's accompanied by a quick flash of intense pain. Tim gets just the barest hint of static moving through his veins that leaves a bitter metal taste in his mouth as a glimpse of yellow electricity sinks into the metal cuffs. He feels the barrier between him and his powers weaken ever so slightly. 

What the hell? "What?" 

Bored, dark blue eyes catch on Tim's rigid posture, misinterpreting the reason behind it. Tim forces himself back into the present, back into the information Vlad dropped. A smirk makes its way onto Vlad's face. "Oh, yes. Didn't I tell you? I did some research into you when I found out you became a half-ghost, too. Not to mention a little checking up. I know all about you and your little nightlife." 

"And the rest of them?" Tim prodded. Are they still safe? 

Vlad rolls his eyes. "I couldn't care less about the other winged creatures that infect this place." 

That's good news for the bats but bad news for Tim. He's tempted to ask what makes him so different but Vlad's deflected all other questions like that. So, he picks a new angle. 

"Why him?" Tim nudges what he thinks is Scarecrow's elbow with his foot, much more gentle than he should have given their past. 

"I recognize his skill and talent. There are some things even I am incapable of doing. Biochemistry is one of them. Jonathan Crane, on the other hand, excels at it." 

"He's a serial killer who got booted from his university because he turned his students into test subjects. He's not any better now that he uses the citizens of Gotham instead." Tim feels another spark come from his body, followed by the same flash of pain. The wall weakens even more and he gets an idea. 

Vlad scoffs. "I'm not praising his actions, Timothy, merely his talents. There's a difference." 

For a second, Tim feels like a scolded child. He shoves the feeling away as quickly as it came. He looks down at Scarecrow's form again, noting that he hadn't moved at all since he last looked, only the barest hint of movement to indicate that he's breathing. "What did you do to him?" 

"He's still alive, if that's what you're wondering. I didn't see a good reason to kill him, but I wasn't about to let him hurt you more than he already has." 

Tim's about to ask what exactly he did to Scarecrow to practically get him comatose when he catches what Vlad says. He compares it with something Crane had said before, when he was monologuing. 

Crane said that a ghost broke him out because he knew about biochemistry. He said he had to make a poison for the ghost that Tim had ingested somehow. Vlad alluded to knowing Crane hurt him and he was, in fact, a half-ghost. It all made too much sense. 

"The tea. You had Scarecrow make that and somehow slipped it into my apartment." It's an accusation, not a question. 

"I did," Vlad shamelessly admits. "It took him quite a while to make something that I thought was satisfactory. Getting it into your apartment was easy work. Tell Jazz that she improved on her form, by the way, and that I'm impressed." 

Tim would absolutely not be telling Jazz that but he would be telling Danny that he had apparently been spied on for the past few days, if not weeks. "He was working for you? You broke him out of Arkham? Just to get to me?" Another flash of electricity and a flare of pain, more crumbling walls and Tim feels a little stronger and a little angrier. 

"Don't think yourself so special, Timothy. But in a sense, yes. Sometimes drastic measures have to be taken in order to achieve something great," Vlad sits up a little straighter, proud at admitting that he broke a villain out of the asylum, contracted him to create a poison, and then slipped that and some fear toxin into Tim so he could kidnap him. What a fruit loop. 

"What was in that tea, anyway? Scarecrow said he used a flower or something." 

Vlad huffs. "The tea is made primarily from Blood Blossoms, a type of flower that acts as a natural ghost trap. I doubt Daniel would have seen it fit to teach you something as important as this before letting you out of his sights. It can be very hard to find nowadays but that's what the Infinite Realms are for. They can be quite harmful to ghosts, practically lethal, even to half-ghosts such as ourselves and young Daniel." 

"And you made me drink it?!" It's routine now. Electricity, pain, falling walls. It must only be a matter of time now before the cuffs lose their power and then Tim can finally tap into his own. Then he can punch Vlad's teeth out for trying to kill him again. 

"I didn't make you do anything," Vlad defended. "All I did was put the tea in your cupboard. It was your decision to choose that one amongst all your other drinks and to take the first sip and every one that came after. Just as it was my decision to stop the Scarecrow before he could hurt you any further." 

"And it was your decision to break into my apartment and inject me with fear toxin while I was in excruciating pain so you could kidnap me easier. It still sounds to me like I suffered because of you." Tim's voice is icy. He's starting to feel both drained and energized. He wonders if he's glowing with anger. 

"Now, now, Timothy, calm down. It won't do either of us good to pass the blame. Besides, you survived, just as I knew you would. Daniel had survived his own encounter with the flower many years ago and he was simply surrounded in a circle of them. The fact that you were able to survive ingesting them near directly is impressive and quite a testament to your power." 

"So, you tried to kill me and now you congratulate me on not dying?" 

"As if death means anything to beings like us." 

When talking with Danny, Tim never minded when he would refer to the two of them as being the same. As much as it reminded Tim of how different he was now, it also served to act as a bonding point for him and Danny, one that they were equal parts grateful and unnerved by. 

Hearing Vlad do the same makes Tim sick. 

"What are you going to do with him now?" Tim asks instead, ignoring the smirk on Vlad's face. "You broke him out of Arkham just for his brain and now that you're done with him, what happens next?" 

Vlad shrugged, as if the answer wasn't important to him. "Maybe I'll pop him back into his cell. Maybe I'll send him into the Ghost Zone for a bit, let the man experience what true fear is like. I haven't decided yet." 

Tim hums, not quite sure how to respond to that. He's tempted to try for another jolt of electricity but the conversation has become too calm for him to try that. Instead, he tugs his wrists against the restraints, purposefully drawing Vlad's attention to it, equal parts misdirection and a test. "And these?" 

"A precautionary measure. The tea should have been enough to incapacitate you for a couple house, making it beyond painful to simply exist, let alone take a breath. Those cuffs, on the other hand, work to target your powers and core directly, rendering you as useless as any other human. I would advise against trying to use your powers while wearing those, as the resulting shock would not be worth the effort. With those two working together, I can guarantee that you are not a threat." 

Tim hides his smirk at being underestimated. He is glad to have confirmation on what the cuffs were doing. Vlad was right about one thing, though; Tim's body feels like he has a bleeding live wire under his skin, the pain getting sharper with every use of his electricity and subsequent shock of pain after. He's not entirely sure how he's able to access his powers despite having practically two anti-ghost things around him, but he's not going to question that right now. He'll take what he can get, and if that's en eventual way out despite being in pain, then that's fine with Tim. 

"Any chance you're willing to let me out of these?" 

"So you can attack me the second I let my guard down?" Vlad looks at him like are you kidding me? "Please. I've fought with Daniel far too many times to fall victim to a simple trick like that." 

Tim shrugs, sore. It must only be a matter of time until the cuffs fully power down. "Worth a try. Are you ever going to tell me why you're here in Gotham? Why you decided to come after me?" 

Vlad crosses one leg over the other, sighing as he places his arms on the armrest in a parallel to Tim. "I suppose you have been rather patient with me. You see, I have an interest in you, Timothy." 

Both of their faces screw up at the phrasing. Tim says, "Ew." 

"Poor choice of wording, Vlad amends. "I didn't meant it in that way. What I meant to say is that I think the two of us could be very beneficial to each other." 

True meaning: Vlad wants Tim to join his side, whatever that may be. 

"Beneficial how?" Tim asks instead. 

"You and I, Timothy, are more alike that you think." Tim resists the urge to make another face at that. Vlad takes his silence as a sign to continue. "Obviously, we're both half-ghosts. But I was the first, and I've been one longer than you and Daniel combined, longer than either of you have been alive. There are even things that I could teach you that even Daniel doesn't know about, things he couldn't hope to learn." 

Now where has Tim heard that before? He nods anyway because it's probably true. Danny said that Vlad was turned in his college years and the main sitting in front of him looks well into his forties, although the grey hair makes it hard to tell. In terms of experience, Vlad definitely wins over Danny. 

"We are both very acquainted with wealth and know how to handle it." Wealth that Danny told Tim was acquired through less than legal and moral means. "Not to mention our experiences with the business world. Just imagine the influence we could have if we worked together." 

Same words, different weird, creepy older man vying for Tim's attention. Same answer. 

"So, you want us to be business partners?" Tim clarifies. 

"Business partners, apprentor and apprentice, what's the difference?" Vlad uncrosses his legs, leaning forward in his chair. "What do you say, Timothy? Would you care to join me?" 

"What's in it for me?" 

Vlad smiles, thinking he's won Tim over. "Lots of things. We could combine our wealth and take over Gotham if you wanted. I'd offer Amity Park but I think we'll find less resistance here. I can show you all the tips and tricks I've learned over the years, including how to use your powers for more beneficial means. I'll even teach you all about the Ghost Zone and show you how to connect your portal here with your adjacent one in there." 

"Portal?" Tim questions, stooped. "I don't have a portal here." 

"Of course you do. The one that killed you. It's not like the Fentons need another portal and I could easily help you establish it as your own." 

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up a step." Tim moves his hands in an attempt to emphasize his stance. "Are you saying you know where the portal is?" 

"Know where it is?" Vlad looks at him like he's stupid. "Of course I do. I'm the one who took it, after all." 

Tim bluescreens. He tamps down a tangle of emotions, ranging from relief to confusion to anger, as he gets out, voice tight, "And the Fentons? Jack and Maddie?" 

Vlad draws his shoulders in, annoyed, before forcing himself to relax. "If you're implying that I took them as well, you would be correct. As of now, they are relatively unharmed." 

He thinks back to the state they found their hotel room in. A flash of yellow and a jolt of pain. "Then what was that mess they left behind?" 

The other half-ghost looks confused for a second before he remembers. He draws his arms back towards himself. "Oh, that. I injected them with the fear toxin, same as you. Their reactions were much more volatile than yours were, likely unhelped by the weapons that were in reach of them." Vlad huffs out a laugh. "It was quite amusing, if I do say so myself." 

Tim opens his mouth to ask what the couple did to deserve that but closes it when he realizes the answer. Remembers his own accident and the story Danny had told him of his and the little he heard of Vlad's. Remembers the little truth bombs Danny and the rest of them have dropped about what the Fentons have done, intentional or not, and the consequences that followed. 

If he's being honest, Tim doesn't know how to feel about the Fentons. Not because the emotions are complicated but simply because he hasn't let himself think about them since their initial interaction and when Tim first came back as a half-ghost. It just... didn't seem necessary to dwell on people who would otherwise have no influence on Tim's life. So, he put them in the box in his head that holds things that would make him go insane if he thought about them too much and chose not to think about it. 

Maybe that's why he hasn't freaked out earlier about all this. With a fist, Tim subtly knocks on the wooden armrest. He's not entirely superstitious, but sometimes it's best to be safe. 

When Danny first called to say his parents were missing, Tim engages himself as someone helping out his friend. Another case to solve. For a moment, he forgot what these people had done to him, the scars he now bares as evidence. 

Thanks to Vlad, he now remembers with startling clarity. And he doesn't know what to do with the emotions that brings up. Electricity comes from his skin, sinking into the cuffs yet again but Tim hardly pays it any thought this time. 

"Why?" Tim finally bites out. "Why hurt them? Why kidnap them at all? Why take the portal?" 

"You already know he answer to that, Timothy. The fear toxin was something I suggested when I heard what Scarecrow could do. I took them in order to draw yours and Daniel's attention away so that it would be easier to kidnap you. As for the portal, I was waiting for Jack and Maddie to finish making sure this one actually worked this time. Then I took it because I decided it would be better off in my hands than theirs, or in any of the villains that roam your streets. And so that I could offer it to you." 

Anger flares at Vlad, at how boastful he is of his powers, assured that anything he does with them is just because it's him who's using the powers. It turns inwards, now angry at himself for not seeing the clues so easily before, for letting himself get drugged and kidnapped, for being so powerless right now that the only thing he can do is hurt himself so that he could have a chance to escape. The emotions manifest as more painful electricity. 

"Why?" Tim asks again. "Why go through all of this, just to get to me?" 

"Because you have untapped potential, Timothy." Vlad's voice softens and Tim prepares himself for something manipulative to come out of his mouth. "You are already strong and capable and have years of experience of heroics. But I could make you stronger, make you powerful in ways you can't yet imagine. Doesn't that sound grand? Wouldn't you like to see what you could become by my side?" 

Tim knows a trap when he hears one and this is undoubtedly a trap. He shoves his emotions to the side, knowing they won't help him here. He pretends to think but his mind is already made up. It has been since the beginning. "No." 

A minute twitch of Vlad's face, the edges of his scar rippling just slight enough for Tim to catch. Tim tries to hide his own reaction, settling for letting off another volt of electricity. He's surprised to see the lights on the cuffs dim, indicating their deactivation. He looks up to see if Vlad notices but the man is too busy glaring daggers at Tim. He'll wait for an opening then. 

"You would be wise to rethink that decision, Timothy. As powerful of an ally I could be, I can be just as formidable as an enemy." 

"So can I, you're not special." Vlad's eyes flash red and he looks like he's going to protest so Tim quickly barrels on. "Look here, Vlad Masters. I appreciate the offer, really I do. But I've heard it all before. A speech like that would've worked much better when I was younger, maybe, or maybe not at all. I know for a fact that it didn't work on Danny. Besides, why would I want to work with a man who has tried to kill me and probably wouldn't hesitate to again if push came to shove?" The nightmare replays in Tim's head but he pushes it back. "I think you need me more than I need you anyway. In my experience, a powerful man such as yourself never reaches out for help unless he's truly desperate. 

"The point is, you waster your time, old man. I won't be joining you or anyone else." 

Maybe Tim was laying it on a little thick. Maybe he pushed harder than he meant to. Maybe he went a little too far because it barely takes a second before there's a flash of black light and Vlad turns into Plasmius. He crosses the space in the blink of an eye to wrap a hand around Tim's throat and lift him in the air, chair and all. More yellow smoke escapes Tim's lips. 

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase–" Vlad's eyes flare a brighter red again, a noted lack of pupils as he glares at Tim and squeezes his hand tighter "–don't poke the bear? Especially when you can't even fight back." 

Tim can't help his slightly manic grin. "And haven't you ever heard the phrase, don't watch the mouth, watch the hands?" 

Tim phases his hands through the wrist cuffs, the chair falling back down to the floor with a crash. He's quick to activate his flight, only faltering for half a second at the sharp, shooting pain that follows the action, so he isn't just dangling in the air by Plasmius' hand. He brings his own hand up, channeling ecto-energy at the last possible second, despite the pain intensifying when he does, and punches Plasmius in the face. 

That's one off his bucket list. 

His neck is released, Vlad stumbling back while Tim nearly collapses to the ground. The aftershocks are stronger than he expected, nearly enough to keep him down but he brings himself to a defensive crouch instead. Out of habit, he takes a deep breath, but there's no relief in the action. When Vlad turns to look back at him, Tim feels a lick of satisfaction at the green dripping from his mouth. Guess fangs weren't such a good decision after all, huh? 

For the most part, aside from the pain, his powers seem to be back. They're not quite as strong as before, his core likely drained from all the electricity earlier. The fact that he can use them at all and isn't passing out feels short of a miracle but he'll take what he can get. he just needs to incapacitate Vlad and then he can find the Fentons, find the portal, call Danny and maybe sleep for a week. 

Easy peasy, right? 

"I have to give it to you, Timothy. That was very good." Vlad summons a handkerchief from nowhere, wiping his mouth and then flicking it away into nonexistence. "I didn't even see that punch coming, let alone you somehow finding a way to use your powers despite the cuffs you were wearing. You show some promise." 

Tim grimaces, hands shaking. "I tell you off, break your stupid tech, make you bleed, and you're still trying to get me on your side? Do you ever learn?" 

"I can be very persistent." With that, Vlad's form ripples, matter leaking from his body until there are five copies of Plasmius surrounding Tim. 

Two can play the ghost game. 

Tim brings his hands together, cracking his knuckles and reaching into his sore core to shift into his ghost form. A flash of yellow and a wave of pain and then there's two half-ghosts in the room together. 

"Hmm. It seems Daniel taught you his flair for dramatics." 

The fifth copy lunges for Tim at the same time as the second while the third aims a glowing pink hand his way. It's years of experience and reflexes kicking in that allow Tim to dodge the upcoming arm, yanking his bo-staff and sweeping it under the legs of the two advancing copies. They both crumple to the ground as the ecto-blast grazes his upper arm. 

"A weapon?" The fourth one shouts out. "You didn't tell us that this brat came weaponized!" 

"At least this one knows how to use something other than his hands," the first one says. "It's a welcome reprieve from Daniel's constant choice of brute fighting." 

Tim doesn't give them any more time to chatter. He reaches into his utility belt, pulling out a handful of exploding birdarangs and trowing them at the three copies. Grunts of pain echo around the room as the metal embeds itself into flesh (ghost? Ectoplasm? Oh, that is a breakdown for later). There's hardly a second for them to react before Tim is aiming a gloved hand, hitting each target. The combined force of the ecto-blast and the exploding metal is enough to take out the three Plasmius copies. 

A blast hits Tim in the back, forcing him to stumble forward. He shifts his stance, making sure to keep the remaining clones in his peripheral while remaining on the defensive. He's not entirely sure which of the two are the real Plasmius but it has to be one of them. 

"A backstabbing shot? Really? Isn't that a little too on the nose, Plasmius?" 

Something like a growl escapes the Plasmius to his right but it's the one to his left that initiates an attack. A glowing pink fist flits at Tim's face but he's quick to slot his bo-staff underneath the nearby coffee table, flinging it up just in time to act as a shield. A black and pink flash shatters the wood with minimal effort, sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim sees something move and instincts lead Tim to turning his body intangible, dodging out of the way. A good thing too, because a glowing pink sword swings right where Tim was, the tip passing harmlessly through his body. He waits a bit, only releasing the intangibility when he's sure the sharp weapon and both copies are far from him. 

His core flares angrily at his overuse but Tim ignores it. Now is not the time to take care of himself. And when did Vlad get a sword anyway? He adjusts his grip on his bo-staff as the three of them come to a brief standstill. 

Vlad sees the surprise on his face and a low chuckle escapes the one with the sword. "Like what you see?" 

The whole thing is a glowing neon pink, the same as his ecto-blasts, the blade itself being made of flaming ectoplasm, likely able to solidify as needed. The handle is the only thing that looks completely solid. Plasmius gives it a twirl before he swings it at Tim. A green sword joins the gray, built similar to the other one in all but color. It slashes at Tim, cutting a rip into his cape. 

"Ecto-energy," the other PLasmius copy says, "can be used for much greater things than powerful punches and quick blasts." Both swords come down on Tim at the same time. 

Tim raises his own bo-staff to block. At least this, this is something Tim is familiar with to some degree. Even if it's a two-versus-one fight. He doesn't give Vlad a response besides narrowing his eyes behind the mask. The other half-ghost is all too happy to keep going. 

"Timothy, I can teach you so much more than Daniel can, things that are actually suited to your needs as a growing ghost." Tim parries the next attack, channeling any remaining strength in creating some distance from the other two. 

"I can be for you what no other has been," the other Plasmius continues. He creates an ecto-shield against Tim's next attack, firing an ecto-blast that hits Tim in the shoulder. "We can be an unstoppable team, you and I. Take whatever we want, rule over whoever we want." 

"Has it ever occurred to you," Tim says as he lunges with a strike towards the closest Vlad, pivoting on one foot to the kick the other in the chest, channeling an ecto-energy there at the second for an extra boost, "or to anyone else that I don't want a mentor. I don't need someone to help me or guide me or corrupt me in any way. I am doing just fine on my own!" 

Tim's tired core, no doubt well past exhausted, gives one last burst of power. Something flares bright and burning, a surge of energy that he feels move out from his ribs to where his hands are still clutching at his bo-staff. A bright yellow-green light erupts from the point of contact, ecto-energy carving out a space for itself between the grooves in the metal. In the blink of an eye, Tim's bo-staff has been turned into an impromptu ecto-weapon. 

Despite that being a whole what the fuck just happened moment, Tim doesn't let that slow his movements. Vlad, for once, is speechless. The one in front of him is opening starting at the gleaming metal in Tim's hands and he uses that advantage to blink invisible and fly forwards. He releases the invisibility at the same time he runs the staff through the copy's stomach, running electricity through the metal at the same time. 

With a crackle, the copy seizes before melting off Tim's staff. There's just enough time for Tim to grab that copy's green sword and turn towards the remaining Vlad. 

"You are full of surprises, aren't you, my boy? I didn't know you had it in you." 

"Don't call me that," Tim snarls. "We don't know each other and most importantly, you don't know me." He points the sword at Plasmius, the bo-staff resting at his side but ready for when he needs it. 

"And why not?" Vlad sidesteps Tim's lunge, floating into the air. He grabs Tim's hood, which would have choked him if it wasn't connected to the shoulders of his suit. Still, it's enough for him to be able to yank Tim close only to kick him in the back, knocking him to the ground. The pink sword swings in an arc above Tim's head and he narrowly avoids rolling out of the way. The sword embeds itself in the ground where Tim was. 

"I think I know you pretty well." Vlad continues. "I know you're young and have been through more than your deal of life. You've only had your powers for a month and you still don't know their full potential yet. You haven't even seen the Ghost Zone yet or met a real ghost aside from me or Daniel. You've completely isolated yourself because you're terrified at what you have become." 

"You sure you're talking about me, old man?" Tim blocks Vlad's next strike with the bo-staff, jabbing the sword into the other ghost's thigh. "'Cause it sounds a lot like you're talking from experience." 

Plasmius hisses in pain. His form flickers before vanishing completely. Tim spares a second to stare at the empty space. Another copy? Then where was the real one? 

He turns in circles, keeping his guard up the whole time and trying to fight the déjà vu. This won't be like the last time. It won't be like his nightmare either. 

Tim misses the pink that shoots out from a dark corner. It catches his hand, making him curse and drop the sword. He aims his own glowing hand in return but he's cut off from firing as something wraps around his neck from behind, pulling him up to the tips of his toes and squeezing. 

"I've gotten quite tired of this back and forth, Timothy." The real Vlad says. He must've hid somehow after he made the copies. Tim curses himself for not noticing. 

It's the only warning he gets before his neck erupts in pain, stronger than any that he's felt tonight. The hands encompass all of Tim's neck and the ecto-energy burns through the suit right to his skin. Pain erupts from the contact and Tim drops the staff, reaching his hands up to try and pry Vlad off him. The pain only intensifies and Plasmius tightens his grip, cutting off his air supply. 

He doesn't need air per se, especially not in this form, but it was at least nice to have the option. It doesn't really matter anyway because he's still choking and the ecto-energy being forces into his already exhausted body hurts in a new way. 

Tim only realizes he's been screaming when a third hand clasps itself over his mouth, pulling his back against Vlad's front. A fourth hand reaches up from somewhere else, stroking Tim's hair in a disgusting attempt to create comfort despite their current circumstances. 

"I do hate to do this, Timothy. It hurts me more that it hurts you." Tim twitches in place and Vlad stops shocking him but continues to hold him close. He twists his hands where they're holding onto Vlad's wrists and then forces out a jolt of electricity for good measure. It's well worth the next shock of ecto-energy that leaves Tim feeling raw. "Well, maybe it does hurt you more than it hurts me. But you left me no choice. If you weren't so stubborn then we would never have come to this conclusion." The fourth hand retreats but the absence only puts Tim more on edge. "Now, come on. We still have much to discuss and I'd rather not be interrupted." 

The glove over his mouth is fixed tightly so Tim couldn't reply if he wanted to. He's tempted to bite him but the panic at feeling his body be dragged towards the nearest door takes first priority. Even if he wanted to talk, it wouldn't make much of a difference. His throat feels like he swallowed acid and then used it as lotion for good measure. He is not looking forward to seeing how it'll scar. 

Vlad moves them backwards through the penthouse and Tim musters up enough energy to start kicking and punching. It reminds him all too much of his nightmare and that hadn't ended well either. He's debating whether it's worth it to try his ghost powers again when a crash from the left gets their attention. 

The window shatters, a blur of black and blue tumbling through. It rolls for barely a second before straightening out into a crouched position across from Tim and Vlad. 

On any normal night, Tim would be grateful to see Nightwing. But he's been through a lot and he's exhausted and drained and for the first time he wonders if the fear toxin has fully left his system like he thought. He can't stop his body from tensing at the sight of the other vigilante. The Dick in his vision had been cold and uncaring once he found out about Tim being a half-ghost. He doesn't know how the real one will act and that scares him. 

It hits Tim, then, what he hadn't been wanting to acknowledge. Seeing Jason and hearing him out had brought it to his attention but seeing Dick forces him to realize what it really is. He cares about the Bats, he's known that for a while. And that means he cares about their opinion of him and he can't how much he's missed the rest of them over the past month. Watching the interactions between Danny and Jazz and his friends reminded Tim so much of what he used to have. Could have again if he was brave enough to tell them the truth. 

Call him selfish but he doesn't want anything bad to happen to him. Which is why, as Nightwing's masked gaze jumps from the unconscious form of Scarecrow to Vlad and Tim — and what a sight Tim must make, he realizes, with his white hair and yellow eyes, drenching in neon green goo and being choke from behind by a villain in a trashed penthouse — unsure which to address first, Tim makes a decision. 

With his last bit of strength, Tim phases his face through Vlad's hand. He forces his eyes to glow a brighter yellow, allowing just a little bit of the wail to infect his voice as he tells Nightwing, "Get out." 

Nightwing stumbles back a step at the sound. Vlad nods approvingly and the third hand doesn't reappear. "I'd listen to him if I were you. This doesn't concern you, so it would be in your best interest to leave us alone." 

Nightwing continues to stare. He finally gets out, "T– Red Robin?" 

There's something almost hopeful in his voice and hearing it makes Tim flinch, stumbling back the little he can move into Vlad. As much as he hopes Dick doesn't catch it, he knows it's a futile effort. Vlad also catches on. 

Behind him, Plasmius hums. He lowers his voice so only Tim can hear. "Is this what you saw when you were under that drug? The fear toxin? Some twisted version of your family? Did you tell them or did someone else? Did they turn against you once they found out the truth?" 

"Shut up," Tim hisses. He doesn't need to listen to this. 

"It's inevitable, you know. No matter what they promise you, the people you trust, the people you love, always turn against you in the end." Plasmius tugs him closer and Tim lets out a slight wheeze. "It doesn't surprise me that your people are no different." 

Tim shakes his head as much as he can. "No. You're wrong." 

"Oh, am I?" He feels Vlad tilt his head to the side. The third hand comes back to grab Tim's chin, forcing him to stare right at where Nightwing is still frozen, watching the scene in front of him in silence. "Then go on. Tell him. Prove it to me." 

He stares at Nightwing, conflicted. Tim could rip the bandaid off right now. Say that he half died and get it over with quick. Best care scenario, Dick believes him and maybe they fight Vlad together. 

Worst case scenario, Dick leaves and Tim is dragged away to who knows where with Vlad. Maybe his nightmare comes true, maybe another one becomes a possibility. There's too many unknowns with either side. 

Tim gulps, the action scratchy. "Nightwing, listen to me. Take Scarecrow and get out of here, somewhere far away as long as it's safe. Right now." 

The grip on Tim's chin tightens, as does the one around his neck. Tim gasps in pain. "Now, that wasn't what we discussed, was it, my boy?" 

"Do it now, Nightwing," Tim forces out instead. He lowers his voice, talking to Vlad only now. "Just let Nightwing take Scarecrow and leave. Neither of them need to be here longer than they have to, right? Then you and me can talk some more. Or fight. Whichever one you want." 

Vlad hums and Tim feels it through his back. "I doubt you're in much of a position to fight for much longer. But fine. The less other people are involved, the better." 

Tim practically sags in relief but it makes the pressure increase on his throat so he straightens back up as much as he can. The two half-ghosts watch as Dick gives a shaky nod, hesitant. He puts his escrima sticks away, carefully moving towards Scarecrow. Both Tim and Nightwing let out equally relieved sighs at the pulse Dick finds on Scarecrow. Dick carefully moves Scarecrow onto his back and Tim watches anxiously as Nightwing makes his way to the same window he came from. He spares one last glance at Tim and Vlad, clearly reluctant to leave. 

What happens next is almost too fast for Tim's already woozy brain to catch. 

Instead of shooting the grapple outside, Nightwing stutters forward and then just as quickly leaps to the side, landing on the couch. Out of the wall next to the window comes a blur of black and white. There's a split second where a familiar flash of green reaches Tim's eyes and then the pressure around his body disappears, Tim collapsing to the ground with a puff of yellow smoke. Instinctively, he takes a big gulp of air, wincing at the pain that comes with it. 

With curious eyes, he looks around the room from his spot on the floor. He's surprised at what he finds. 

Pinning Vlad to the wall is none other than Danny Phantom, his ghost form flared and powerful in a way that Tim has never seen before. 

His white hair is impossibly bright, flaming up to twice the size of his head. Though his body doesn't appear to have changed, his ghostly aura more than makes up for it as it comes off Phantom in powerful waves. Maybe he's seeing things but Tim swears he can see something made of a darker green orbiting around Danny's head. 

Most satisfyingly to Tim, one of Danny's white gloved hands is fisted in the roots of Plasmius' hair while the other hand is lit up with flaming ecto-energy, hovering threateningly at the exposed part of Vlad's neck. The rest of Danny is floating off the ground, legs and feet having combined into a wispy ghost tail. 

"Plasmius," Danny growls out. "Long time no see." 

"Daniel!" Vlad tries for a chuckle but it dies off as DAnny's scowl gets bigger and his hand gets closer to Vlad's throat. "What, uh, what brings you all the way out here to Gotham?" 

"Oh, you know, family things." Danny's voice is deceptively calm, contrasting greatly with the feral image he makes towering over the much older halfa. "Except my family just recently disappeared. The very same one you've held a petty grudge against for the longest time. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" 

Vlad shakes his head, hissing at the pain it brings. "No, none at all. You know I would never lay a hand on Jazz's head. Or Ellie's, for that matter." 

"You better not. But they're not the family I was talking about." Danny raises his hand higher up the wall, taking Vlad with it. "Where are my parents, Vlad?" 

There's a few seconds of intense eye contact, burning red meeting blazing green. Whatever Vlad sees must be much scarier than what Tim can see, or maybe it has to do with how terrifyingly powerful Danny is right now, but he lets out a sigh. His shoulders slump in defeat. 

"They're here, in this penthouse. One of the bedrooms, I can't remember which." Vlad waves a hand towards the nearby hallway. "I put them there after I injected them with fear toxin. I borrowed some power from Nocturn and they've been knocked out ever since." 

Danny snarls, leaning in close. "And the portal?" 

"It's here, too!" Vlad exclaims. "In another bedroom! And I've done nothing to tamper with it! I've had no time, after all." 

Yeah, because he was to busy trying to kidnap Tim. Phantom continues to stare Plasmus down before he leans back. His voice echoes between the three half-ghosts. "You're lucky we're in unfamiliar territory. Otherwise, you'd be in for much worse shit than I have in mind for you." 

His ghost form swells and Tim stares on in shock. He didn't think Danny could get more powerful or look more menacing. But as the ghost energy becomes stronger and a glowing green skull ring appears on the hand dug painfully into Plasmius' hair and the orbiting green thing above Danny's head turns into a flaming green crown, Tim thinks there are still a few things he doesn't know about his new friend. 

"Wow." 

It takes Tim a second to realize it was him who spoke, that the absolutely wrecked voice he heard was his own. He brings a hand up to his throat, wincing at the stickiness there from the drying ectoplasm. 

Danny's head whips around and Tim nearly gets whiplash from how quickly the other teen changes. In an instant, Phantom's form has softened back to what Tim is used to seeing and the cold ice in Danny's gaze instantly melts. 

He turns back to Plasmius, ice blooming from his hand to fuse his head to the wall in a manner that must be painful. Tim feels no sympathy. Danny leans in again. "Stay here. We're not done." 

There's burst of cold air and something knocks into Tim, nearly pushing him flat on the ground. When his brain catches up, he realizes it's Danny, literally curled around him with his arms and ghost tail in a hug. Tim can't help the startled laugh that makes its way out of him, wrapping his arms around Danny as well. he feels a familiar sense of weightlessness that indicates one of them has activated their flight. 

"Hey, man," Tim forces out. "How's it been?" 

Danny rears his head back, hair blazing for a second before relaxing. "Hows it been? You motherfucker! Do you always pull shit like this?" 

Tim does not want to answer this question. "I promise you, it's not on purpose." 

A glare is sent his way before Danny is laughing this time. He goes to wrap himself around Tim again but stops at the resulting wince. He pulls back, expression serious as his eyes zero in on the ectoplasm smeared around Tim's throat and dripping down his front and the odd flash of green on his suit from where Vlad got him. 

The temperature drops as Danny turns back to Plasmius, who is still frozen to the wall. At least he has the presence of mind to look sheepish for his actions, shoulders hunching in on themselves. 

"Now, Daniel, calm down. It isn't what you think." Plasmius brings his hands up, the gloves still covered in ectoplasm. "I may have just gotten a bit... carried away when we were fighting." 

"A bit?" Danny unwraps himself from Tim but he grabs Danny's wrist before he can move any farther. He shakes his head when Danny looks at him, both of them floating next to each other in the air. 

"Save it for later." Tim looks at Vlad, narrowing his eyes at the other halfa. "Whatever you plan on doing to him, I want in." 

Danny looks shocked for a second before an easy grin splits his face. "That can be arranged." 

Vlad has only a moment to fear for what his future has in store for him before a door slams open somewhere. 

Familiar heavy stomps mixed with muffled swearing echoes into the living room as the person gets closer to where everyone is located. "Stupid fucking ghost teens and their stupid fucking ghost shit. Flying up buildings and leaving the rest of us humans to walk up all these fucking flights of stairs. When I catch that kid, I swear I'm gonna–" 

From the hallway entrance, Red Hood makes an appearance, guns out of their holster and at the ready. 

Tim can't help but gawk. "Red Hood?!" 

"Don't tell me I missed all the action." Jason looks at him, giving Tim a head nod as he puts his guns away. "You look like shit. You okay?" 

Tim nods, lowering himself so he floats only an inch above the ground. He's sure if he tried to put any of his weight on his feet he would instantly collapse. The slight strain on his core is worth saving his pride. He's not as hesitant to see Jason as he was to see Dick, even though nightmare Jason was way worse than nightmare Dick. He'll blame it on the adrenaline leaving his system and his core being drained, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake. 

His "I'm fine"" is cut off with a wheeze as Danny gently elbows him with a glare. 

"He is not fine," Danny answers for him. "I don't know the full story yet but it looks like he and Plasmius got into a fight. When I got here, Plasmius was holding Tim up by the throat from behind. Dunno what happened before that, though." 

A pointed look is sent Tim's way but he ignores it. His eyes catch on Nightwing's frozen posture, still slumped on the couch with Scarecrow. "I'll explain the rest later. We have other things to worry about." 

Jason scoffs, the sound distorted through his helmet. "Yeah, like that?" 

"Nightwing and Scarecrow for one." Tim gestures at the two of them on the couch, drawing Jason and Danny's attention there for the first time. Danny tenses before relaxing just as quickly, something Tim would've missed if he wasn't still holding onto the other boy's wrist. "And I have just one more thing I want to do." 

Tim turns before any of them can question him. He looks for where he dropped his bo-staff, finding it still glowing only a few feet away from him. He floats over, holding his hand out above it and hoping he won't look stupid for trying this. Luckily, it works and the staff flies up to meet Tim's hand, the metal crackling upon impact. He floats closer to to Vlad, his mouth taking on a sinister look as he twirls the bo-staff. 

"This is for, you know, everything," Tim says before he fixes his grip and swings his weapon into Vlad's jaw. A sickening crack echoes around the room and Tim nods his head in satisfaction. He turns back to find Danny right next to him. 

"And, to make sure you don't go anywhere before we're finished with you," Danny trails off. He grabs something off his belt that wasn't there before, twisting the top off and aiming it at Plasmius. "We can talk more later. After you've spent a couple hours in the thermos." 

"A couple hours, a few days. What's the difference, really?" Tim lets off a grim smile as he repeats Vlad's words from earlier at him. 

Danny flicks a switch on the metal container, which Tim just recognized as one of the infamous thermoses. A white tunnel of light shoots out of the thermos, surrounding and capturing Plasmius with a yell. In seconds, the other half-ghost is nowhere to be found, only the melting ice that was holding his head. 

The cap goes back on and Danny turns to Tim with a pleased grin. 

"Is he going to be okay?" Tim asks, not really caring either way. 

"Hopefully not!" Danny replies cheerily as the two of them turn back to the others. "After what he did to you, and we will be talking about that later, he deserves more than a couple hours trapped in liminal space. And dude!" He holds his hand up for a high five that Tim gladly returns. "When did you learn how to make your staff glow like that?" 

Tim shrugs. "During the fight. I was getting really fed up with the shit he kept sating and it just kind of happened. But hey, remember that thing you said about core powers? I think I found out about mine." 

He holds his hand out, creating a ball of yellow electricity before letting it fizz out. His core protests at that and Tim thinks that's the last time he'll use his ghost powers for tonight. He wobbles in midair, causing a look of concern to cross over Danny's face. 

"Okay, enough with the ghost shit." Jason says, walking closer to the two half-ghost teens. "Tim looks like he just about died again and none of us want that to happen. We need to get him some help." 

"Jazz can fix him up." Danny tells Jason. He looks to Tim, wincing a little. "Just make sure you don't switch back until she's done. Scars and all, remember?" 

Tim nods, dizzy. "Uh-huh." 

"What the hell is going on?" 

The three of them turn to look at the new voice. Nightwing is standing up from the couch now and, despite the mask, Tim can read his confusion and fear at the situation clear as day. He stalks closer to the rest of the group, leaving Scarecrow splayed on the couch behind him. 

Dick points to Jason first. "Is this where you've been the past few weeks? Helping Tim cover up whatever he got himself into this time?" 

He doesn't give Jason time to answer, instead moving to point the finger at Danny. "And I don't know who you are but you're definitely not from around here. You better not be trouble." 

Danny gives a shaky nod as Dick finally turns to Tim. He prepares for the worst, he's definitely earned it after all. Tim closes his eyes and waits. 

Nothing harsh comes. Instead, two strong arms wrap around him in a hug. It's enough of a surprise to startle Tim into phasing out of the touch, moving backwards. It seems that was last call, though, because he shudders and falls towards the ground. 

"Woah!" Another arm, this one much colder and thinner than the last, wraps around Tim's waist before he can hit the ground. Danny throws Tim's arm over his shoulder and tugs hum closer as he takes most of his weight, resting both of their feet on the ground. "No more ghost powers for you until we can get some ectoplasm in you. It won't fix everything but it should make you feel a little bit better." 

"I don't even want to ask." Red Hood says, but Tim can hear the concern in his voice. 

"Well I do!" Nightwing exclaims. He softens his voice. "Tim, what happened to you?" 

Tim shakes his head. "Can we discuss it later? I feel like I've been fried from the inside out." 

"But you've been gone for a month! And when I finally found you, it's because I've been tracking down Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter with D–" Nightwing glances at Danny and corrects himself. "With Robin and Black Bat. And Scarecrow wasn't even the big bad here, it was whoever that was!" Dick gestures a shaky hand at the thermos in Danny's other hand. "And I just– I'm–" 

Dick takes a deep breath, his shoulders heaving with the motion. "I just want to make sure you're okay, Tim. I've been worried sick about you. Whatever happened to you–" and Tim just knows he's staring at his glowing white hair, the yellow lenses of his mask, and the green blood dripping from him "–we can, I don't know, fix it or help you get through it. Whatever you need." 

Tim continues to stare at Nightwing and then Red Hood. The ones from his fear toxin induced nightmare superimpose over them and Nightwing turns into an indifferent Dick, his cry of not being able to trust Tim and being the first to suggest trying to kill him. Red Hood turns into a Jason who had no problems killing him if it meant he get to cement his place in the family. 

But that was supposed to be his worst fear, not the reality. And the reality is that both Jason and Dick were worried about him disappearing, enough so to at least try to look for him. Maybe... maybe the same could be said for everybody else. Maybe it'll be okay for Tim to go back, at least to check if everything'll be okay. 

If it won't, well, Tim will burn that bridge when he gets there. 

He sighs. "Fine." Next to him, Danny tenses up but makes no comment. "But not here. Does the Batcave work?" 

"No way," Danny breathes out. "You guys actually call it the Batcave? I owe Tucker ten bucks." 

Tim cracks a smile, elbowing Danny in the ribs. 

"Yeah, sure." Dick nods along, an eager smile on his face. "Let me just go turn in Scarecrow and check up on Robin and Black Bat and then we'll meet you there." 

"Phantom's coming too," Tim interject before anyone can suggest otherwise. "And his tea. There's three others." 

Dick loos more hesitant here but doesn't argue. "Alright, but you have to explain to B why they're there." 

Tim nods. That he can do. That, at least, seems doable. The rest he'll have to wait and see. 

It can't be that bad, right?