(A/N: Song Recommended for a Better Reading experience: Eternity – Alex Warren)
[Third Person POV]
The scream that tore from Danny's throat seemed to last forever, echoing across the darkened skyline as rain began to pour in relentless sheets. The heavens themselves wept with him, lightning crackling violently overhead, casting jagged streaks of white across the black clouds. His voice was raw and desperate, filled with every ounce of grief, guilt, and fury he'd been burying inside.
As the scream faded, the blinding beam of energy that had erupted from his mouth flickered and began to shrink, growing thinner and weaker until it finally disappeared completely. The air was left humming faintly with residual power as Danny fell silent, trembling in the cold rain.
His voice was ragged when he tried to breathe again, his throat burning as though he'd swallowed fire. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rainfall that poured mercilessly over him. The thunder rolled across the sky, drowning out the broken sounds of his sobs, but not even the storm could hide his pain.
Ember and Klemper refused to let him go. Both of them knelt at his sides, holding onto him as tightly as they could, their spectral forms shivering with worry and helplessness. Danny was on all fours, his body shaking, the tears refusing to stop. For the first time, he didn't just feel like a ghost—he felt like a monster. The thought consumed him: What kind of son would ever choose anything else over their family?
He'd had them again. Every single one of them. His mom, his dad, Jazz—all there, right in front of him. And yet even then, with a second chance handed to him, he couldn't save them. He couldn't save anyone.
He had lost his family not once, but twice. And both times, it was his fault. Every choice he made, every mistake he tried to fix, only ever seemed to destroy the people he loved most. The weight of it all crushed him until he could barely breathe. He wasn't a hero—he was a failure. A disgrace. Someone who could save the world a hundred times over and still fail where it mattered most.
He thought helping Desiree might fix something inside him. Maybe, if he helped her, he could fill that empty void eating him alive. But now he saw it for what it really was. He hadn't done it for her—he'd done it for himself. To pretend he was still good, still someone who mattered. But all it did was make the emptiness worse.
'I hate it… I hate all of it,' Danny thought between choking sobs. 'I hate myself most of all… Why? Why was I ever made into Danny Phantom? Why me? I'm no superhero. There's nothing super about me at all. I don't deserve this power. I never did. I don't even deserve to exist. Everyone would've been better off if I was never born… Maybe it'd be better if I just…'
Slowly, his form began to shimmer and fade. His glowing hands vanished beneath the rain, his soaked clothes turning transparent as his entire body slipped away into invisibility. Within moments, he was gone—completely gone—from Ember and Klemper's hold.
"Danny?!" Ember cried out, nearly stumbling backward as her hands passed through empty air. Klemper, startled, lost his balance completely and crashed into a puddle, sending water splashing everywhere.
"Danny, where are you?!" Ember shouted, spinning around as panic gripped her. "Damn it!" she cursed, scanning the rooftop for any sign of his outline, any flicker of light in the downpour.
"Danny, please!" Klemper called, his usually soft voice echoing with desperation. "You're our friend! Don't run away! We just want to help you!"
"Danny, please!" Ember yelled again, her voice cracking. "You're seriously worrying me—just come out, okay?! Talk to us!" She cupped her hands around her mouth, trying to project over the storm as she searched frantically across the rain-slick rooftop.
She lifted herself off the ground, floating upward for a better view—but before she could even look far, she slammed straight into something solid.
"Oof—" Ember grunted, stumbling back, clutching her forehead. When she looked up, her eyes widened in shock. Towering over her in the rain was a figure cloaked in darkness, a pair of piercing white eyes staring down at her from beneath a horned cowl.
Her heart leapt. "Batman!?" she gasped, relief flooding her voice as she reached out and grabbed at his cape. "You're Batman, right?! Please—you have to find Danny! He can't be alone right now! Please, I'm scared he'll do something to himself if we don't reach him!"
A smaller figure landed beside the Dark Knight—Robin—his expression serious and his sharp eyes scanning the chaos around them. "What happened to Danny? And why isn't the Penguin in custody?" he asked, his tone tight, suspicious.
Batman's gaze didn't waver. The rain slid down his cowl as he extended a gloved hand to steady Ember. His voice, low and commanding, cut through the storm.
"Start from the beginning," he said. "Tell me everything."
…
Batman was running at full speed across the rain-soaked rooftops of Gotham. The storm raged around him, wind whipping at his cape. His dark silhouette cut through the curtain of rain, vaulting over rusted air vents and leaping the chasms between rooftops with predatory precision. Every motion was deliberate, controlled.
But even he couldn't shut out the echo of Ember's trembling voice from moments earlier.
'When he broke Desiree's spell, he had to lose his parents all over again! He's hurting, so please—please find him! He always talked so highly of you… maybe you'll be a better help than we are!'
The words refused to leave him, echoing louder than the rain pounding against his armor. His white lenses flickered and shifted to a deep green hue as he scanned the rooftops ahead. The heads-up display revealed heat signatures, spectral readings, and faint traces of ectoplasmic energy dispersing into the rain.
He grunted softly, not out of frustration, but out of grim urgency. He knew that kind of pain—the kind that made you want to disappear, that made you believe the world would be better off without you. He'd been there once, as a boy staring at two lifeless bodies in an alley.
He wasn't going to let another child drown in that darkness.
His cape flared behind him like the wings of a shadowed beast as he launched himself off another ledge, gliding across the open air. Lightning illuminated his form, turning him into a dark flash against the storm. When he landed, his boots skidded across the rooftop, water spraying outward as he came to a controlled stop.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as his eyes caught the faint outline of a figure sitting along the edge of the building. A boy—small, soaked, and trembling. Danny sat hunched forward, his knees pulled tightly to his chest as though trying to fold in on himself, to disappear entirely.
Batman tapped the side of his cowl; his lenses faded from green back to their natural white tint, allowing him to see the transparent outline of Danny due to the rain. The boy wasn't hiding from him—he was fading from himself.
Quiet as the storm would allow, Batman approached, each step carefully measured, almost silent. When he was close enough, he reached out and extended his cape, draping it over Danny's shaking form. The heavy material spread like a protective shroud, blocking out the cold rain.
For a moment, the world seemed to still.
Danny's visibility slowly returned beneath the cover of the cape. His glowing eyes flickered faintly as he looked up at the towering figure beside him. His face was pale, his expression shattered—defeat and anguish written in every line. When he spoke, his voice was broken, hoarse from crying and screaming.
"...Bruce…" he whispered, barely audible over the thunder.
And then, without hesitation, Danny flew upward and buried himself against Batman's chest, clinging to him as though he were the only solid thing left in his collapsing world. Batman didn't move at first—then his arms came around him, enclosing the boy fully within the folds of his cape, sheltering him from the storm.
Danny trembled violently against him, his fingers clutching at the armored suit, desperate for warmth, for comfort, for anything. Batman stood there, silent and still, his mind racing but his voice absent. He didn't know what words could possibly ease that kind of pain. So instead, he simply placed a gloved hand on the back of Danny's head, steadying him, grounding him.
"I killed them…" Danny's voice was raw, almost inaudible. "I got them killed all over again."
Batman exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening behind the cowl. "I heard what happened from Ember," he said, his tone even but soft. "You didn't kill them, Danny. You were placed in an impossible situation with an impossible decision"
But Danny didn't seem to hear him. His words came faster now, spilling out in broken sobs. "What's worse… is that they didn't hold it against me. They weren't angry with me. I wanted them to. I needed them to. But instead they forgave me—they told me they loved me."
His voice cracked. "How am I supposed to accept that? How can I accept their forgiveness when I can't even forgive myself? I don't deserve their love either. How could they love someone like me? Someone who gave them up? I'm a monster… I don't deserve any of it."
Batman's grip tightened slightly, a silent reminder that Danny wasn't alone.
"Danny…" he began, but the boy's voice trembled over his own.
"I could have done something. I should have done something. I'm sure there was another way, I just wasn't smart enough to see it. If I'd been better—stronger—maybe they'd still be alive. Maybe they'd still have a chance to live the life they deserved."
The next words came out as a plea, barely held together by the faintest thread of hope. "...Bruce… please help me. I don't want to hate myself anymore. I just… I don't know how to stop it. I know they wouldn't want this for me, but I can't stop feeling it."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The rain fell harder, hammering against the rooftop,
Then Batman crouched down, lowering himself to one knee so that his height no longer loomed over the boy. He wrapped both arms firmly around Danny, holding him close, his cape falling around them like a black cocoon. His eyes shut beneath the mask, his jaw tightening as emotion welled silently within him.
He hated this—the helplessness. He hated how powerless he felt hearing that voice crack under the weight of despair. For all his training, all his intellect, all his strength—there were still moments like this, moments when even the Batman could do nothing but hold on.
Because no child, no matter how gifted or cursed, should ever have to carry the weight of hating themselves.
And as the thunder rolled across Gotham, Batman held Danny tighter, silently promising himself that this boy would not have to face his pain alone.
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