[Third Person's PoV]
"Like you've said, I may be able to control a lot of things in your life, but I can't control everything. That's something I agree with you on. That's why I wanted to know how you felt about the matter before pushing anything on you," Bruce finished, staring at Danny as if waiting for an answer.
Danny held Bruce's gaze for a long time, unsure of how to respond.
Finally, he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before gathering his thoughts. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do for me. Trust me, I understand, I really do. But I don't need therapy. I think you've misunderstood something. I might not fear death, but that doesn't mean I want to just throw my life away or that I have some kind of death wish.
"I still have a lot I want to do, a lot I want to experience. When I do die—when my time finally comes—I want to be able to face my parents, wherever they are, and tell them incredible stories about my adventures.
"So, while I may not fear death, what I do fear is dying an unsatisfactory death. One that feels meaningless. If I can die saving just one life, then I can stand before my parents and my sister with pride, knowing I did the right thing.
"The reason I seem so indifferent about death is because, in the end, it comes for all of us—whether we want it to or not. I know that might sound unsettling coming from someone my age, but it's a truth I've come to accept." Danny explained, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked down, a faint but sincere smile on his face.
Bruce didn't react immediately. His expression remained unreadable, but after a few seconds, he closed his eyes in quiet acceptance of Danny's words.
Then, without a word, he leaned forward and ruffled Danny's hair softly. "This world truly is an unfair place…" he murmured.
Bruce said nothing more. He straightened up and began heading toward the door.
"Get as much rest as you need, Danny," he said as he exited the room. "Sorry for keeping you up past your bedtime."
Danny ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix the mess Bruce had made, a puzzled expression on his face. "What was that?" he muttered.
Shaking his head, he left the office and made his way through the long, winding corridors toward his room. The moment he saw his bed, his eyes grew unnaturally heavy, and his body instinctively gravitated toward the soft mattress.
He didn't even bother changing out of his clothes before flopping onto the bed. Exhaustion took over, and within seconds, he was fast asleep.
---
Date: February 2nd
Time: 4:11 PM
Location: Wayne Manor – Danny's Room
Danny groggily opened his eyes, turning his head to glance at the clock on his bedside table. "Wow… I slept for more than twelve hours," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep.
Still unwilling to get up, he slid off the bed and sprawled onto the floor, face down on the carpet. "Alfred!" he called out in a muffled voice.
Silence.
"Be a dear and carry me to my duties… I'm feeling too lazy to move," he mumbled to himself in lazy amusement.
After a few seconds, he let out a dramatic groan, finally pushing himself off the ground. "Fine…" he muttered, dragging himself toward the bathroom for a much-needed shower to wake up and start his day.
…
An hour later…
Danny sat in the Batcave, enjoying a light snack Alfred had prepared. He glanced at the butler with teary eyes and said, "You know the saying, 'Not all heroes wear capes'? Well, I fully agree. Sometimes, they just need a three-piece suit with a magnificent tie."
Alfred smiled and bowed elegantly. "I appreciate the compliment, young master Daniel."
Bruce spun around in his chair, fixing Danny with a stern look. "Alright, let me make one thing clear. While I won't stop you from doing your hero work, I'm not allowing it while you're injured. Once you're fully healed in two days, the prohibition will be lifted. That is the one thing I will not budge on."
Danny nodded. "That's reasonable. I'll comply."
Nearby, Dick was in the middle of his workout when he looked over and asked, "You know you should be resting, right? So why are you here?"
"For training, obviously," Danny retorted, dusting off his hands before placing his empty plate back on the trolley.
Dick sighed. "What part of 'you should be resting' are you failing to understand? Your injuries could heal wrong because of how fast you're regenerating. Moving too much could mess that up."
Danny smirked. "Ah, you misunderstand me. I'm not training my body—I'm training a new power I unlocked."
Dick and Bruce both frowned, exchanging a look before speaking in unison. "New power?"
Danny turned toward Alfred with a deadpan expression. "Are we sure Dick is adopted?"
Alfred chuckled, but Bruce cut in before it could go any further. "What new power are you talking about? Did this happen during your fight with the ghost hunter?"
Danny hesitated, blushing slightly as he looked away. "It happened when Dick got hurt…"
Dick chuckled in amusement. "Now, who's the one that loves who?"
Danny groaned. "Stick a sock in it."
"Ew, stop blushing. That's gross." Dick scoffed.
"I'm not blushing because I want to, alright?! I'm just embarrassed, that's all. It doesn't mean anything," Danny shot back defensively.
Bruce, uninterested in their banter, cut straight to the point. "Demonstrate."
Danny exhaled, calming himself before shifting into his ghost form. He clenched his fist, focusing. Green ectoplasmic energy flared around his hand, growing wilder by the second—until suddenly, his fist combusted into vibrant green flames. A flickering aura of fire surrounded him as he concentrated.
"When Dick got hurt, I got really angry, and my ectoplasmic energy responded accordingly," Danny explained.
Bruce studied him carefully. "And do you remember what happened when you first used it?"
Danny nodded. "Yeah. Skulker exploded… or at least, I created an explosion the moment my fist touched him."
Bruce hummed in thought. "We'll need to run some tests. We don't know how these flames behave or if they're even safe to use. They could be dangerous—they might even burn a person's soul."
Danny tilted his head in consideration. "I don't necessarily think so. I mean, theoretically, I could affect someone's soul, but right now, I think I'm relatively safe."
Before they could question him further, Danny continued. "My regular ectoplasmic attacks already have some heat to them. All I really did was increase that temperature. Since my standard attacks don't burn souls, these flames shouldn't either.
"But don't get me wrong—I'm not saying we shouldn't test them. We definitely should, just in case. I could be wrong. But… it feels like I'd need to make them burn way hotter—hotter than I can currently control—to actually damage someone's soul. As fragile as a soul might be, it has a kind of resistance, too."
Dick, still doing pull-ups, glanced over. "So, it's just an instinctual feeling? That your flames can't burn a soul?"
Danny nodded. "Kinda? Like I said, I feel like if I really wanted to burn someone's soul—to hurt their essence—the fire would need to be way hotter than what I can produce right now."
As if on cue, his flames flickered out, and his fist returned to normal. Danny frowned slightly, flexing his fingers.
Bruce watched in silence, already analyzing possibilities. "We'll see."
Bruce watched with interest as Danny held out his palm outwards and held his wrist with his other hand and concentrated.
He began to tremble as his eyes narrowed in concentration. With a small whoosh, a tiny candle green flame materialized in the middle of his palm.
The candle flames swayed as Danny concentrated, his brows knitted together before the flames flickered out of existence, making Danny click his tongue. 'I tried to summon them without covering my hand in ectoplasma first. It's much harder than I thought… Although I think I did good for my first time'
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