Chapter Text
While Bruce did his best to not bother Tim by reaching out again, stricken from the words he had listened into, he inevitably had to ask Oracle to do so on his behalf to Nightingale not too long after Tim started going out in costume out of Gotham.
Bruce didn’t know how Tim managed to get out of Gotham, whether or not he used Zeta Tubes, or who looked after his one year old daughter when he went out and he didn’t want to look into it closely in case his investigations angered Tim further.
Everyone was currently pulled into different places due to ongoing cases and the newest cult in Gotham needed to be apprehended before they did something irreparable.
Considering Constantine had been the one to call his attention to this cult, having followed it to Gotham from Minnesota of all places, Bruce felt justified in calling in Nightingale to supervise the sorcerer.
Whatever Tim thought of him didn't matter right now. He still trusted his son to keep Gotham safe.
“Hey there, birdie,” John greeted the figure drenched in necromantic magic in front of him warily. Batman’s former bird either practised it in his free time or tangled with someone who did.
“Constantine,” Nightingale voiced evenly with a small nod of greeting as he fiddled with something in his gauntlet and motioned John to follow him.
John continued wondering about the magic as he trailed after Nightingale.
Well, no one had accused him of having sense before. “So, which one is it?”
Nightingale sent him a look in askance as they stalked into one of Gotham’s many sketchy warehouses that currently housed the cultists. He had done something John didn't want to know to gather the cultists into one place for them to take care of with, frankly, insulting ease. But it wasn't like the cultists were that much of a big deal for them to be wary of, so it was more than fine in his books. Less time wasted on hunting after stragglers was always nice.
John watched Nightingale as he silently walked up on the fire escape of the warehouse before following him. “Necromancer or involved with a necromancer?” John asked with a jeer, honestly curious of the answer.
He narrowed his eyes at the quiet mocking laugh he got as they quietly observed the cult under them from where they were standing. “Wow, Hellblazer, you not only don't recognise the magic of the Realms but miscategorise it as necromancy ? I know a lot of people who would be offended by that.”
John's hand suddenly went clammy and fumbled with the unlit cigarette in his hold at the implications of Nightingale’s words. He darted an incredulous look at the calm vigilante next to him. “Those people wouldn’t be Denizens themselves, would they?” John asked futilely despite knowing the possibility of a negative answer. Fuck, how the hell had Nightingale managed to get entangled with Denizens ?
Nightingale sent a small smirk at him before jumping down quietly and taking out the cultists under them without giving him an answer.
He cursed loudly as he followed him down with a spell on his lips and decided to not question Nightingale again.
He did have survival instincts, thanks.
And anything or anyone that dealt with Denizens wasn't good for his survival.
Of course, it didn't end there.
This time the situation they were under was more serious than the previous time as the Justice League sighted Brainiac and Darkseid’s advance into their solar system, causing a frantic call for all hands on deck.
Bruce would've loved to spare Tim, his son who had a baby at home, from it but he couldn’t. They needed everyone if they wanted to have any hope of survival and Tim was too good of a strategist to not be called personally.
Even with his reluctance, he still greedily drank in Nightingale’s presence in the Watchtower, shoulder to shoulder with Wonder Girl, Superboy and Impulse, as everyone prominent gathered together in the Watchtower for a plan of attack.
The changed costume suited him well, he thought, though Bruce would always miss the previous reds and yellows. The thing that pulled his attention, though, was the newest addition —or it might be just one he hadn't seen before, he wasn't sure— to Nightingale’s arsenal.
Bruce could barely make out an ice blue hilt of a sword nestled over Nightingale’s spine on a sheath that, even to him, had a recognisable magical aura. He wondered where Tim found it and whether or not he took necessary precautions against it since magical artefacts were notoriously fickle.
He didn't have the time to be concerned about it for too long before Constantine shouldered his way towards Nightingale as a lull fell over the crowd after their quick attack and defence plans settled.
“Hey, birdie, those people you know, any way you could call ‘em here?”
Bruce narrowed his eyes suspiciously behind the mask as Nightingale tilted his head in thought to that suspicious question.
“If I do,” he said slowly with consideration. “I’ll have to stay in the Watchtower and won’t be able to go to the ground to help in person.”
He scrutinised everyone with appraisal before seemingly coming to a decision. “I need space for this.”
Everyone obligingly took several steps back, curious about what Nightingale would do.
Bruce tried to swallow his apprehension as his son reached back to his sword and unsheathed it with a ripple of presence. The sword —a gladius from the shape— didn't have an ice blue hilt like he had previously thought but was completely made out of glittering ice.
Nightingale settled his one handed grip on the gladius firmly before drawing a line in the air by his feet with the now brightly glowing sword. Mist rose from his mouth and the air around them cooled, causing the heroes, especially the Dark members around them to share uneasy glances. Constantine looked both grim and nauseous as Nightingale called out with a melodic voice that echoed despite how crowded the room was.
“Fright Knight, to me.”
The figure that rose from the audible magical crack caused by Nightingale’s sword was a hulking being that radiated fear with his mere presence. They, Fright Knight, were wearing dark, mediaeval armour with a helmet wreathed by purple fire that reached to mid-shin and looked like a tattered cape. Their right hand had a glowing green claymore in its grip.
And more importantly, their left hand was cradling a baby to their chest.
Elaine, to be exact.
They all froze as Fright Knight carefully handed the baby dressed as a strawberry and a cheerful baby bag they pulled from somewhere to her father.
The juxtaposition between fear inducing Knight and cute baby was enough to jar the frozen heroes. But then the Knight fell to a respectful kneel by Nightingale's feet before they could say anything.
“If any of you wake up my baby with your questions I’m sending Fright Knight back,” Nightingale threatened the heroes preemptively before any of them could voice their questions as he cradled his daughter against his chest.
Bruce obliged his son for a change and swallowed his questions with some difficulty. He quickly buried his emotions deeply before they took over him. This was the first time he was seeing his granddaughter and it was after his son summoned an unknown being, a being that was trusted with his daughter when they weren’t, into the Watchtower recklessly.
Constantine was the one who broke the silence ensued by Nightingale's threat.
“Do you use the Spirit of All Hallows’ Eve, the second-in-command of the High King of Realms Infinite, as a babysitter?” He asked in a shrill but quiet voice.
“Maybe so,” Nightingale answered with a imperious sniff and motioned the Knight at his feet to rise. “As you’ve heard, this is the second-in-command of the High King of Realms Infinite and the Spirit of Fear,” he echoed Constantine. “Yes, alongside Halloween, no, I won’t explain what the Realms Infinite are,” he added dryly as one of the speedsters raised their hand in question. “He will help Earth against its current threats, starting from Darkseid,” he said towards the silent Knight everyone had warily inched away from. The Knight didn't give any indication of having heard what sounded like their orders and instead stood in attention silently in front of Nightingale. “Now, everyone needs to move if they don’t want to be late for the party.”
Fright Knight disappeared right in front of them at Nightingale’s dismissal, leaving behind the copious amount of fear they radiated.
Bruce watched with clenched teeth as Nightingale leisurely walked towards the control room of the Watchtower with his daughter, making no move to answer the questions their colleagues yelled at his back.
“Nightingale is correct,” he barked out to his colleagues in the room. “Everyone knows their positions. Move. ”
John could hardly believe his eyes as he fought on the same field as Fright Knight.
Admittedly, fought was an imprecise description as what the Spirit was doing was more on the lines of decimation.
The Knight had, at first, ran his sword through Darkseid with the fucking Soul Shredder and then continued to annihilate any attacker in his path without discrimination. His presence and participation was enough to turn the tides firmly to their side, which John was thankful for. It looked like they would win and win without too much loss for once.
John was also trying very hard to not think of the baby in the arms of the second-in-command of the High King or the way he knelt and accepted orders from Nightingale.
He was very firmly not thinking about it.
Thankfully, the clean up efforts he joined in helped him bury himself further in denial.
The invasion had ended in their favour after Brainiac had firmly turned tail and ran when he calculated that the possibility of a win was lower than he found acceptable.
Tim watched as the heroes gave a weary cheer and immediately turned to relief efforts to clean up the wreckage to save the civilians that had been caught in the crosshair. He calmly directed emergency lines and ordered first aid tents to be made from where he was in the Watchtower.
He might not have been able to fight or help with a baby to look after but he could still be their guy in the chair and assist from where he was.
He spared an absentminded glance at the dejected form of Fright Knight kneeling by his feet, where Lyra was playing and hovering on a soft blanket then turned back to directing the heroes.
Normally, Lyra would be at home with his duplicate but prior experiments showed that she didn’t like his duplicates when she was left alone with them and preferred the original him, so he couldn’t have called Frighty to him and simply leave her with the duplicate.
He also couldn’t have sent a duplicate into what he thought was going to be a serious fight in case it got dissolved in front of so many heroes and exposed his powers.
It took him a few hours before he took a break to snack on something and fed his daughter with some pre-prepared food he took out from the baby bag.
Some members of the Justice League; notably Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman, Captain Marvel, John Constantine and Zatanna, Zetated in and came into the control room just as he was wiping Lyra’s dirty face and hands with a damp cloth.
They, considerately, stopped about four feet away from him. Tim was glad for it as he didn't think Fright Knight was in the mood for allowing them to come closer, what with the inexplicable mood he was in.
“We, the Justice League, would like to thank you for your assistance during the invasion as the defenders of this Earth,” Wonder Woman thanked Fright Knight with a regal bow the rest, some halfheartedly, echoed.
Tim sent Frighty a concerned look when he didn’t react to the thanks and continued to watch Lyra and fuss over her silently with his aura. “Fright Knight?” He asked with a frown.
Fright Knight answered in a form that was, from the reaction it got, painful to hear to the heroes in front of them. “The one that ran…”
“Who, Brainiac?” He asked with bewilderment before he understood the Knight's mood. “There’s no need to be despondent,” he sighed with fondness. “I wouldn't want you to chase after him anyway.” He smiled as Fright Knight subtly perked up at his words. “Just tell the Red Huntress to Hunt him later, she’ll have fun with it.”
Tim mentally gave Lyra a kiss and let go of her in the air, notably not after placing her on the blanket he had put on the floor. He snickered as she instinctively started floating to the surprise of the heroes. Fright Knight deftly grabbed his little Lady from the air before she decided to float up like she was so fond of doing lately.
Tim quickly put the things he took out back into the baby bag to hand it back to Fright Knight so he could bring Lyra back to his home. There was no reason for his daughter or Knight to stay here now when Tim would go back not too long after he answered the Justice League's inevitable questions. They didn't need to be with him for that.
“Who did you say your daughter’s other parent was, Nightingale?” Superman asked with a wince as the heroes all stared at where his Knight had been a second ago.
“I didn’t,” Tim said and turned to type some last things on the computer in front of him.
He silently scoffed. Clark thought Lyra was Kon’s? They might have fooled around before but that was a long time ago. There hadn't been anything between them since then.
And he was currently imitating Virgin Mary quite accurately right now, what with Lyra only being his and not made with the typical process needed for a child.
“Uh…” Captain Marvel called out tentatively as he looked apprehensively at where his daughter was a minute ago. “Are we, like, ignoring the Spirit of Fear that helped us now to question the parentage of Nightingale's obviously magical baby?”
“No, no we’re not,” Zatanna replied with a long-suffering expression and sent a cross look at her fellow heroes.
Superman sent an uncomfortable glance at Wonder Woman who was next to him. It seemed that Clark was willing to ignore Fright Knight in favour of learning about his daughter's parentage.
“Are you all idiots?” Constantine gestured annoyedly at the sword propped on some controls next to Tim in easy grabbing distance. “Am I the only one who knows his powerful magical artefacts here?” He asked in exasperation. “That's obviously Starfrost. You know, the High Prince of the Infinite Phantom’s sword?”
Both Zatanna and the Captain reacted by taking a step back with distrustful looks sent at his poor sword at Constantine's words.
Somehow, Tim both was and wasn't surprised that Constantine had managed to recognise his sword. He had acquired Starfrost not long after hitting eighteen as Danny, about when he had started to spend more time in the Realms than on his Earth. It had been a gift from Pandora, made by a famous swordsmith in the Realms for his use. It was an epic sword both because its maker was insanely talented and notorious and because it was his. The sword’s might was made to be proportional to his might at his strongest.
So it was a very formidable blade that was currently, annoyingly, stronger than him.
There hadn't really been a purpose behind taking Starfrost with him other than a faint ‘might as well’ when he was deciding on what to take back back to Gotham with him as he bickered with his Fraid. He hadn’t bonded to Starfrost like Fright Knight had bonded to Soul Shredder but it was still a familiar weight he took great comfort from nonetheless. He hadn't thought that it would get recognised because it was —compared to some other swords he could name— a newly made sword that didn’t have any history or importance other than being his sword. But it seemed that it had managed to get notoriety when he wasn’t looking.
“And that means..?” Wonder Woman asked even as she looked like she had a guess that she wasn't very happy with.
“Why would His Eternal Highness leave his sword and his second-in-command with a mortal?” Constantine threw his hands up to the air with a vexed expression before turning to him. “Good on you for managing to have a kid with the future Core of the Realms, birdie, I hope nothing bad ever happens to you or your kid because otherwise we will all fucking die as a result.”
Constantine stormed out after that cheerful remark and left him with the rest to be the receiving end of the heroes’ incessant questions.
He rolled his eyes hidden behind his domino mask at the dramatics. Tim knew he was the one who made Constantine come to that conclusion; what with mentioning the Realms, ordering Fright Knight around so obviously, wielding Starfrost and Lyra who probably looked eldritch as fuck to the magical users’ sight but really?
He did it knowingly, consciously, so that he wouldn't have to say I’m Phantom of the Infinite in the future or have to explain Lyra being his Mirror and what that meant. The assumption that Phantom was Lyra's other father was just as good and, more importantly, the truth.
Phantom was his daughter's father.
It was just that he was also Tim.
No one needed to know about his reincarnation and he could readily handwave the absence of Phantom as he’s an interdimensional Prince to the Bat Clan next time he would undoubtedly be questioned on his whereabouts or was seen with Phantom —shapeshifting was such an useful power— if needed but still.
He huffed to himself before deciding to take a page out of his beloved mentor's book and be a cryptic asshole instead of giving a straight answer.
Tim tried not to cackle as he mentally rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
It was going to be so much fun.
An unknown amount of time later, the Batcave echoed as a result of Dick’s loud screech.
“TIM HAD ELAINE WITH AN ELDRITCH PRINCE?!!”