Chapter 256 - 256: Welfare Check

[Third Person Pov]

Danny stormed downstairs, bare feet striking the steps harder than necessary. Bruce appeared from a side hallway just as he reached the bottom, dark coat still on from whatever work he'd been doing.

"What's going on?"

Danny only lifted a hand without looking at him, palm out in a clear stop. "Not now, Bruce."

A white ring of light flared around his waist. In the next breath he shot forward, vanishing into invisibility and phasing straight through the outer wall.

Bruce watched the trajectory for a moment, one eyebrow raised, but said nothing until Dick came down the stairs behind him. The younger man's expression was tight, exhausted, still carrying the weight of the previous night.

"I take it he found out," Bruce said evenly, "and isn't taking it well."

Dick let out a short, humorless breath. "No wonder they call you the world's greatest detective." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't think I've ever seen him that angry before."

Bruce rested a steady hand on Dick's shoulder. "Give him space. It's the best thing we can do for him right now."

Dick shrugged the hand off without looking back and kept walking. "The best thing we could have done for him," he muttered, "was be honest."

Bruce watched him go in silence. When the hallway was empty again he exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his neck, the only outward sign of the quiet frustration he rarely allowed himself.

—

Danny reached Fenton Works in a matter of minutes. The moment his feet touched the familiar ground he let the transformation drop. Human again, he clicked his tongue in irritation and began peeling the bandage wrappings from his face and torso. The adhesive tugged at already-tender skin; every pull left a dull, lingering ache.

He took the stairs down toward the basement lab and stopped at the threshold, lowering himself onto the steps. Knees drawn up to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around them, he simply sat and stared into the dim, equipment-filled space that had once belonged to his parents. Thoughts drifted without order—anger, grief, betrayal, exhaustion—none of them settling long enough to become clear.

Footsteps sounded behind him. The sound alone made his shoulders tense.

"I left because I wanted to be alone—!" He turned, ready to snap, then stopped short. "Huh?"

Death walked down the remaining steps with unhurried grace and settled beside him, close enough for comfort but not crowding. Her presence was quiet, almost gentle against the cold concrete and metal of the lab.

"Didi?" Danny's expression softened at once, the sharp edge of rage dulling into something more subdued. "Why are you here?"

She offered a small, kind smile. "You kind of swore on my name earlier. It was pretty hard not to be curious."

Danny looked away, resting his cheek against his knees. "Oh. Sorry. I'll be more careful."

Death chuckled softly and reached over, running a light hand through his hair. "There's no need. I'm not here to reprimand you for it. I don't mind in the slightest."

"Then why are you here?" he asked, quieter now. He lifted his head to look at her again. "Is something going on? Please tell me something's going on, because— as I'm sure you saw— I could really use the distraction and something to really punch."

"There is always something going on in this universe," she said, shaking her head with a faint smile, "but that isn't why I'm here either." Her hand lingered gently against his hair. "You can think of this as a welfare check from a close friend."

Danny snorted. "A welfare check from Death herself. I hope you see the irony in that."

Death's quiet laughter joined his. "It is pretty ironic. Nonetheless… I'm here. In case you need someone to talk to."

"Am I that untrustworthy that they couldn't just tell me?!" The words burst out of Danny before he could stop them. His voice cracked on the last syllable, raw and sharp. "What did they think was going to happen if they did tell me? I can't wrap my head around it—it doesn't make any sense!"

He dragged in a shaky breath and kept going, the frustration spilling out in a rush. "I mean, sure, it's not like I've been totally honest with them from the beginning either. I've kept secrets too, so it's pretty hypocritical of me to get this angry when they do the same thing. But the difference is that my secrets weren't just mine. They affected Bruce and Dick too. They weren't only about me."

His face twisted as the words tumbled faster. "Meanwhile every single one of their secrets only affected *me*. And fine—maybe I could've accepted it more easily if it had just been Tucker and Sam. If it was only them, I think I would've understood better. But bringing Dick and Bruce into it? And Ember on top of everything else? I just… I don't understand it!"

By the time he finished, he was left panting, shoulders rising and falling too quickly. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and refused to fall, held back by sheer stubborn force of will.

Throughout the entire outburst Death simply listened. She didn't interrupt, didn't try to soothe him with empty words, didn't move to stop the storm. She let him empty everything that had been crushing his chest until there was nothing left but ragged breathing and silence.

Only when she was certain he had finished did she speak, her voice soft and measured.

"Maybe if you don't understand it… try giving them a chance to explain."

Danny blinked at her, confusion cutting through the leftover anger. "What?"

"You said you don't understand. That you can't fathom why they kept you in the dark." She kept her tone gentle, almost conversational. "But if you never give them the chance to explain, you never will. All you'll be left with are your own speculations and assumptions. Everyone has a reason for the things they do. You said it yourself—you have your own secrets, and the reason you didn't tell them is because those secrets didn't only affect you. They affected the people around you. Don't you think it's possible they have their own reasons too?"

"I suppose…" Danny muttered, still looking displeased, the words reluctant.

Death gave a quiet chuckle and slipped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a careful, comforting embrace. "Right now you're hurting. You're angry. You feel betrayed by their silence. That's why you don't want to hear anything they might say—because it feels like nothing could ever justify making you feel this way."

Danny stayed silent for a long moment. His arms tightened around his own knees as he mumbled, almost too quietly to hear, "Am I wrong for thinking that way?"

"No," she answered without hesitation. "You're not. You feel like the people you trusted made a decision about what you could handle without ever giving you a say in it. Of course that hurts. It's perfectly within your right to feel exactly the way you do."

She gently squeezed his shoulder.

"But you owe it to yourself to hear them out before you decide they're wrong. You know what they did. You don't yet know *why* they did it. There's a difference."

Her voice softened further, warm against the top of his hair as she rested her cheek there.

"So don't punish them for an answer you haven't heard yet. Let them explain themselves. If you're still angry afterward, then be angry. If you still feel betrayed, then tell them that. But at least then you'll be angry at the truth rather than at an assumption."

Danny stared at the floor for several long seconds. Finally he looked away and mumbled a quiet, almost reluctant, "Okay," under his breath.

Death smiled faintly and settled more comfortably against him, still holding him close.

"Atta boy."

(A/N: thoughts?)

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