Chapter Text
There was an old pine tree on a hill that overlooked the lake. It was called Lake Simmons according to the sign nearby, after an English colonizer from a time Danny couldn’t remember. He sat high up in the branches, legs dangling and kicking lightly in the soft breeze. He forced a deep inhale, then a long exhale. Breathing wasn’t something he needed to do anymore, though his humanoid body allowed him the nostalgic pleasure. Closing his eyes, he basked in the sunrise, allowing the bright light to paint the insides of his eyelids a brilliant yellowy orange.
It wasn’t often he was allowed the privilege of simply existing. He’d long since given up on making these instances more regular, settling for sporadic instead. This morning in particular, Danny had successfully kept the Box Ghost from destroying the local FedEx (again). The ensuing fight had led him to this lake, where the birds sang softly and the breeze rustled the autumnal orange and red leaves. He couldn’t help himself from stealing a moment, even if it was small. And who could blame him? Things had been hellish ever since he’d assumed the mantel of the crown.
At the thought of his newly appointed position, the serene bubble around Danny promptly popped. He opened his eyes, turning his head away from the sun and instead looking out at the sparkling turquoise water. Allowing his transformation to wash over him, Danny shuddered at the light chill it brought. Where he once had been pajama clad, raven haired, and blue eyed, he now was floating in his spectral form. The once loose hazmat suit he donned had grown tighter in the two years he’d been only half alive. He had grown not only taller, but more muscled as well. It was time for a change of wardrobe, he knew that, though the nostalgia it afforded him was too delectable to turn away from. His fluffy, perpetually flowing white hair hadn’t changed much, and the only notable difference in his eyes was that they were sharpened into catlike slits. Their glowing emerald hue lit up dark rooms, shooting out light like car headlights.
“I guess it’s time to go back home,” Danny told no one, sad eyes scanning the beautiful scene once more. Eventually, he whipped around, flying quickly away from the lake and its peaceful nature.
“You’re up early,” Jazz greeted Danny the moment he appeared from thin air next to her at the kitchen table. She’d long since grown accustomed to his startling introductions, not even flinching as he assumed his spot.
“Yeah, Box Ghost tried to mess with FedEx. Again.” Danny let his head fall onto his crossed arms on the table, letting out a low groan. “At least it was quick, but he took me, like, thirty minutes away flying.”
“Oh?” Jazz asked, tone knowing and slightly pitying. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” Danny muttered his response into the table.
“Seriously,” Jazz contested his dismissal. “You have so much pressure on you. I just wish I could take some of it from you. Help you hold up the world so it’s not all on your shoulders.”
Danny pulled his head up just slightly, eyeing Jazz gratefully. “Yeah. Thanks. It’s alright, though. I don’t have to sleep as much anymore so…I should be fine.”
“Don’t ‘should’ on yourself,” Jazz reminded him, a smirk pulling on her lips.
“Oh, whatever,” Danny scoffed at her therapy speak, rolling his eyes and sitting back up, smiling just as softly as Jazz was.
“Do you want a ride to school?” Jazz offered. “I’m heading that way anyway for some canvassing, so we could hang out a bit before you have to be there.”
“Sure,” Danny agreed, nodding once as he did. “Thanks. I…just…thanks.”
Jazz stood up, leaning over and ruffling Danny’s raven hair. He playfully swatted her away, a small chuckle escaping him. “Anytime, little brother,” she smiled her words out.
The drive to Casper High was quick, a brief breath of fresh air for the soul. Danny allowed himself to bask in the positive emotions Jazz was throwing out, having learned in his time as a half ghost that the output of such feelings helped him feel content. Maybe even fed, if he was being honest. He didn’t love that idea, though, so he pushed it away and focused instead on the conversation himself and Jazz were having.
“So then, she slams the door in my face after calling me a demonic whore. Which, I have to say, is a new one,” Jazz finished her story, chuckling a bit as she did. Her gaze flicked to Danny, who was laughing a bit himself, then back to the road. “People can be assholes. But we persevere.”
“And thank the Ancients you do,” Danny added. “I can’t believe Vlad is trying to roll out more ghost experimentation measures.”
“Oh, I could believe that,” Jazz murmured, eyes hardening as she shook her head. “What I can’t believe is that he’s bringing in the Guys in White. They’re unpredictable, and a dangerous entity. He’s an idiot if he doesn’t see that.”
Danny hummed, looking out his window as the scenery zoomed by. “The thing is, Vlad’s no idiot. He may be a total fruit loop, but he’s a smart fruit loop.”
“Well, whatever he’s doing, there’s no way we’re going to let him get away with it,” Jazz decided, unwavering in her support for him.
Ghosts Can Feel, or GCF, was a group founded by some of Danny’s classmates, specifically the ones who bullied him the most, which was…ironic. They canvassed for basic human rights for ghosts, firm in their belief that ghosts could experience emotion and pain just the same as people could. Jazz found a way to use her time canvassing to bolster a project in one of her classes at the nearby university. Of course, she had to lie to their parents about what causes she was canvassing for. That was alright, though. The siblings had grown accustomed to white lies to keep the much needed peace.
Despite most of the town’s conviction in the fact that ghosts deserved basic rights and protection from experimentation, the law was slow to follow. Vlad was the sole reason, despite his own half ghost status. What he could be up to, Danny couldn’t say, but he needed to find out, and soon.
When Jazz pulled up to the drop off zone, she put the car in park and turned fully towards Danny. “I need you to stay safe, alright?”
Danny offered a feigned smirk, trying and failing to put his sister at ease. “When am I not?”
Jazz rolled her eyes. “Let me count thy ways.”
“Ugh, fine,” Danny relented. “I’m trying, it’s just so hard when…you know…”
And she did. They’d talked about it so many times, Jazz had to know what he meant. Danny’s protective obsession went beyond a hindrance; it was a fatal flaw, having almost fully killed him many a time by now. Sometimes, when there was a lull in ghost attacks, his crystalline core ached with such ferocity it throbbed in his chest where it lay. After some time, he’d grown accustomed to patrolling in the early hours of the morning, if just to soothe the pain. The ritual resulted in squandered petty crimes throughout the tri-city area. He worked to stay anonymous anytime he was outside of Amity Park, as he feared the larger towns and cities’ connection to the federal government. The same government the Guys in White worked for.
“I know you’re trying your best,” Jazz startled Danny from his thoughts. “I’m just worried is all. Sam and Tucker and I…we can’t be there all the time. You need to look out for yourself sometimes, too.”
Danny nodded, solemn and quick. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll try harder.”
“That’s not what I meant—“ Jazz tried to placate the emotions swirling within him.
“It’s ok,” Danny interrupted, effectively stopping her. He offered a sad smile, reaching out an ice cold hand and squeezing Jazz’s comparatively hot one. “See you after school. I love you.”
Jazz nodded, pursing her lips as her brows drew close together. “I love you, too.”
With that, Danny let go, exiting the car and shouldering his backpack. He watched Jazz drive off with a wave of the hand before turning and walking into the concrete school building.
Entering the halls of Casper High was a different experience for each teen. For Danny, it was somewhat hellish. Not the worst he’d faced in his sixteen years, though certainly not a walk in the park, either. Immediately, Dash bumped into Danny from the side, causing the latter to stumble, barely catching himself.
“What the fuck, Dash?” Danny muttered, not bothering to raise his voice above the small sound.
“Scoot, bitch,” Dash chortled as he spoke.
“I’m not…you know I’m a boy,” Danny argued, chancing a look up into Dash’s eyes. That only seemed to anger the jock more.
“If you’re really a guy, then it shouldn’t be a problem if I rearrange your face,” Dash smirked his words out, pressing a closed fist into his palm in a threatening gesture.
Before Danny could find a response, Paulina waltzed between them, effectively shoving him away from Dash. “Dash! I’ve been waiting for you by my locker,” she scolded her boyfriend.
“Babe, I’m just finishing up with Fentina,” Dash protested, turning his full attention to his girlfriend. Danny took the opportunity to scuttle away, not so much as chancing a look back.
“Dude, you’re so lucky Paulina kinda likes you,” Tucker greeted Danny with a statement that certainly didn’t feel true.
“Uh, no, she doesn’t,” Danny vocalized his suspicion. “I’m pretty sure she just doesn’t want to see her boyfriend beat up a girl.”
“You’re not a girl, dude, you’re—“ Tucker started.
“I know, I know,” Danny cut him off. “But she doesn’t see me that way.”
Tucker hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know, bro. She has a soft spot for you, I’m pretty sure.”
“Ok, whatever,” Danny rolled his eyes, sarcasm coloring his tone. “Where’s Sam?”
“Hanging up GCF posters in the gym,” Tucker explained her absence away with a wave of the hand. “Between her and Jazz, there’s enough brain power and will power to make some sort of change. Don’t you think?”
“I hope so,” Danny half agreed. “But it’s Vlad. He’s wicked smart, and he knows what he’s doing. Meanwhile, the GCF board is made up of high schoolers and recent grads. There’s no way they’ll outsmart him. So it’s up to us.”
“Wow, somber convo, don’t you think, boys?” Sam spoke from behind Danny, having approached while the other was talking.
“Hey,” Danny pivoted his body as he greeted Sam. With the three now in a triangle in front of their lockers, there was a semblance of privacy.
“You really think that?” Sam challenged Danny’s prior statement. “I think we have a chance. Have you seen the polls lately?”
Danny looked down, unable to look at his friends as anger nearly overtook him. “It doesn’t matter. He can overshadow the entire town if it comes to a vote. He’s powerful enough.”
Silence fell between the three teens, only interrupted by squeaking sneakers against the linoleum and idle chatter in the background. Finally, after too much time elapsed spent in mutual contemplation, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the school day.
“Listen,” Danny started, gradually lifting his gaze up and looking between his friends. “I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. We’ll trouble shoot after school, alright?”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed the word out, bumping shoulders with Danny and sending him an endearing glance. “I’ll see you in third period.”
“See you in fourth,” Tucker chimed in, nodding at Danny.
“And I’ll see both of you in sixth,” Danny smiled, tone lighter as his friends oozed positivity and care.
With that, the three parted ways, going to their separate home rooms. Danny happened to have Mr. Lancer, who was sitting and silently reading some obscure classic at his desk at the front of the classroom. Having been the first student in the room, Danny had his pick of seat, something he tried to obtain everyday. It didn’t always go that way, on account of his ghost fighting duties, but that day he was lucky. He sat in the back corner nearest the door, just in case he needed to run out and address a ghost attack.
“You’re early,” Mr. Lancer’s monotonous voice pervaded Danny’s peripherals.
He quickly looked up at the teacher, head falling to the side as a questioning look fell to his features. “Uh, yeah?”
“It’s nice to see you,” Mr. Lancer didn’t so much as look up from his book as he responded. “I hope to see you early more often. It’s certainly better than having to give you tardies.”
Danny nodded, furrowing his brows and looking down at the desk in front of him. There was no way he could commit to consistent timeliness, so he didn’t. Instead, he pulled his notebook from his backpack and began to scribble little ghost speak glyphs. Since he’d acquired and accepted the mantel of the crown, the symbols and their meanings began to pour into his mind. Sometimes, when upset, he would slip into the ancient, spectral language. He would usually feign going silent and retreating, when in all reality he had so much to say, but nobody could understand him. Not until he calmed down, and whoever he was talking to had claimed a sort of dominance over him and his reactions.
It was halfway through homeroom that Danny was pulled from his thoughts and doodles by his ghost sense. He let out a muffled groan, raising his hand mechanically.
Knowing what Danny was going to ask, Mr. Lancer didn’t even call on him before responding. “It doesn’t matter what I say, I know you’ll leave anyway, Mr. Fenton.”
A small swell of appreciation rose within Danny at Mr. Lancer addressing him by his preferred gender. Not having the time or audacity to thank him, he instead nodded and rose from his seat, rushing out and into the hallway.
It was Skulker, though the hunter ghost seemed…different. He didn’t make remarks or move with his usual nonchalance. Instead, he was just as robotic as his outward appearance. Pink flames grew from his head instead of blue, and the usually green glow of his eyes was a deep magenta, light in the center and nearly blinding to look at. Danny looked around, ensuring nobody else was in the corridor, before transforming into his ghost form.
“Skulker…?” Danny chanced a conversation, trying to assess just what was going on.
“Target detected,” a mechanical voice spoke, not in response to Danny but instead a strange sort of coincidence. There was no way this was really Skulker.
“Dude, snap out of it,” Danny warned, edging away from the ghost — or maybe just his suit? He wasn’t sure, but he needed to find out, and fast. “Are you in there, Skulker?”
“Target responsive,” the thing in front of Danny spoke again. It raised a fist towards him, releasing a thick pink mist from a new accessory on the wrist.
“Wh— what the hell?!” Danny stammered, covering his nose and mouth and refusing to breathe at all.
That didn’t seem to matter, though, as he could feel the prickle of the noxious gas on his upper neck and face. His eyes widened with realization, desperately swiping at his exposed skin, though it appeared the damage was already done. He wobbled, landing on unsteady feet where he once had been floating with a spectral tail. Hands and arms, suddenly heavy as lead, fell away from his face and hung limply at his sides. He swayed from side to side, vision blurring as his eyes grew heavier, eyelids sliding closed slowly but surely before he forced them back up. Eventually, it stung to keep his eyes open at all, and with the fight having been drained from him, he closed them completely. With the lack of sight, he felt even dizzier, feeling gravity grab him by the shoulders and force him to the ground, onto his left side. His head hit the linoleum, ringing springing into his left ear as he made contact.
“Target detained,” that damn robotic voice stated. Danny tried to force his eyes open, to do anything but just lie there, but all he could do was growl, low and feral. When cool metallic arms grabbed under Danny’s arms and legs, he couldn’t find it in himself to fight to stay conscious. Not allowed the privilege of additional thought, he fell into a deep, drug induced slumber.
Some unknown time later, Danny felt as though someone threw him into a concrete wall, startling him into wakefulness. His eyes flew open, entire body shivering and soaked in almost frozen sweat. He could feel the heavy lock of metal cuffs wrapping around both his wrists and ankles, arms secured behind the back of the metal chair he was sat in. Looking down with a wild gaze, he found he was in the clothes he’d dressed himself in that morning. He was in human form. And whoever — or whatever — had sent Skulker’s possessed tech suit had seen him transform, not only at the beginning of the encounter, but also after the drugging.
“Ah, it’s awake,” a sinister, sly voice grabbed the entirety of Danny’s attention, his head snapping up to look. “I don’t suppose you know where you are, or who I am.”
The woman before him spread her arms wide, smooth shoulder length grey and white hair swaying just slightly as she did. Her hazel eyes pierced Danny to his core, malicious smile almost mocking. He opened his mouth to respond, only to hear nothing but staticky ghost speak.
“Oh, poor thing,” the woman cooed, sarcasm dripping from her words. She reminded Danny of Spectra. He shivered where he sat, somehow even more aware that he was restrained with thick metal cuffs, no way to escape. “I’ve been told you have a tendency to lose speech capabilities when a threat is posed.”
Danny furrowed his brows at the mystery woman, emitting a guttural hiss and growling menacingly. The woman only feigned laughter, stepping closer to him and crouching to his level once she was near enough to touch. She reached out with the speed of a viper, grabbing under his jaw and moving his face from side to side. Danny tensed hard at the move, trying to pull back but finding himself still weighed down by whatever that gas was.
“I’ll make this quick, so we can get down to business.” The woman moved Danny’s head so he was looking directly at her, fingers coming up on either side of his face and squishing his cheeks just tightly. “This is how things are going to work,” her tone turned stern and cold. “You will behave, or you will be electrocuted.” She held up a small black remote in front of Danny’s face, and he shook his head weakly and as much as he could with her hand around him. “Yes. I will not tolerate disobedience. Understood?”
More ghost speak spewed from his lips, all scrunched up from the way the woman was holding him. Danny couldn’t bring himself to nod, to admit he was afraid. He also couldn’t make himself defy her, as he was admittedly terrified. So instead, he shut his mouth and stared on at her as her grip tightened steadily. Just as he started to squirm at the pressure, she let go, standing from her spot and staring down at him.
“My name is Agent Alpha,” the woman continued on. Her face was veiled in shadows at this angle, her form backlit like a terrifying angel. “I work for the federal government. All other information is classified. If you question me, you will be shocked. Understood?”
Danny still refused to move, only shaking against his will just slightly. Agent Alpha smirked, the move sending a shiver down his already chilled spine. She subtly pressed the button in her hand, and Danny died all over again. Electricity shot through him, causing him to go rigid. His head was thrown back as a cry was ripped from his lungs. Even as the pain ceased, and he knew he wasn’t being electrocuted still, he couldn’t get his muscles to relax. It took time, tears, and strain to bring his head back down enough to look at Agent Alpha, and when he did, he nodded so fast, he didn’t know what he was doing.
“You understand?” she questioned again. Danny continued to nod, growing more and more emphatic. “Good. Now, we will begin with a blood draw. Then, a CT scan and an MRI. All in both this form and your true nature. Finally, when you are able to talk again, our interrogation will begin. Understood?”
With tears springing to his eyes, Danny nodded. It was coming true, all of his worst fears, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
The tests dragged by for what felt like an eternity. Anytime Danny hesitated or took too long to respond, Agent Alpha sent more electricity through his system. Eventually, Danny sharpened his senses enough to keep up with the woman. It was difficult, as the long lasting effects of the mystery gas still clouded his mind, but the constant torture was enough to wake him up, evidently. When the interview began, Danny was regulated enough to speak, though barely. Agent Alpha stared him down, bringing a chair into the room and sitting across from Danny’s own seat. Initially, she simply stared at him, not uttering a single word. All the while, Danny refused to breathe or move, going still as a corpse. He couldn’t chance another electrocution, he didn’t know if he could take it.
“Your name is Daniel Fenton,” Agent Alpha began after a long stretch of silence. “Or, it was, before you became the thing you are now.” Danny shivered against his will at her words, though if she noticed, she didn’t show it. “You are responsible for the opening of the first portal in Amity Park. Since, natural portals have sprung up as a direct result of the ectoplasmic concentration you have caused. Is this all correct?”
Danny refused to cry, instead blinking the moisture from his eyes as he nodded once. “Yes,” he whispered, voice hoarse from being shocked over and over.
“Good,” Agent Alpha nodded as she spoke the single word. “You have been appointed the mantel of ghost king, correct?”
Frozen in his spot, Danny hesitated. How did she know so much? Who was her informant? As a result of his hesitance, Agent Alpha pressed her little black button again, sending agony through Danny’s synapses. He clenched every muscle, gritting his teeth and trying hard not to put his pain on display.
“Let me ask that again.” Agent Alpha leaned in, button held between her fingers as she stared Danny down. “Are you the king of the ghost zone?”
“Yes,” Danny ground out, trying to keep the venom from the response lest he be punished further.
“Good.” Agent Alpha leaned back, a small smile ghosting her features. “Now, tell me, who else is aware of your little secret?”
“Nobody,” Danny’s response was immediate. “Just me. It’s just me.”
Agent Alpha’s smile grew. “You’re lying.”
Again, electricity coursed through Danny’s veins. There was a little whimper in the air, and he knew it was his, though couldn’t stifle it. He knew she would keep going. He was aware that this was going to be painful. But he couldn’t expose his friends and sister. He would rather die again and again and again. As a result, he did, Agent Alpha’s will stronger than he thought possible. After losing count of how many times she’d pressed the cursed button, Danny couldn’t help his head from lolling to the side, vision going blurry, and not from tears this time.
“Oh, looks like I broke the thing,” Agent Alpha chuckled as she spoke. “We’ll try again later. For now, rest up. You’ll need your strength.”
Danny did not, in fact, rest up. He instead let himself breathe, just for the comfort of it. Eventually, the breaths turned into hacking sobs, wracking his body and causing the chair he was in to creak against the ground. He knew he was being filmed, though he couldn’t make himself care. Let them watch. He didn’t have much left to lose.
When Agent Alpha returned, Danny figured it must have been at least a few hours later. She still had that damned button in her hand, plain black jumpsuit from before swapped out with an expensive looking navy blue pantsuit. Had it been longer than a few hours? Was it the next day? Danny couldn’t be sure.
“Have you decided you’re ready to talk?” Agent Alpha’s voice was taunting and knowing.
“No,” Danny’s voice broke over the single syllable. He didn’t dare look up at her, though he could feel her mood sour by the energy in the air. The acrid flavor almost made him gag.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Agent Alpha sighed her words out, feigning disappointment. “I thought we could work together. Make this easier for you.”
“Make it hard,” Danny spat, still not looking up at the woman before him. “See if I crack. I won’t.”
There was a long stretch of silence, during which Danny was sure he was going to be electrocuted once again. Instead, the slow patter of footsteps drew nearer to him, and Agent Alpha crouched down in front of him. With careful gaze, Danny looked up at her, meeting her striking hazel eyes.
“I know that now,” Agent Alpha explained cryptically, voice and face eerily stoic. She pocketed the black button, and Danny relaxed just slightly. “But there are more secrets you have yet to tell. For one, there’s the complexities of your anatomy.”
Danny stiffened at her words, eyes growing wide as he shook his head violently from to side. He didn’t want to understand what she meant, though she left him no choice as she continued to speak.
“You will be vivisected. We will take samples of each internal and external organ. We will track regrowth and repair, and then we will put you back together just to do it again, if need be.” As tears sparkled in Danny’s eyes, Agent Alpha’s voice seemed renewed, her energy shifting to that of morbid fascination. “Oh, don’t cry. It won’t do any good. I know it’s all an act.”
“I can tell you,” Danny muttered his proposed compromise. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know about me. You don’t need to do that.”
“Oh, I’m afraid we do,” Agent Alpha’s voice lilted a bit as she spoke, as though she was thoroughly enjoying herself. “There are things we can discover that you could never articulate. This will be a medical and metaphysical breakthrough. And you’ll be a part of it.” She smiled sweetly, watching as Danny sputtered and sobbed before continuing. “Your case will be in countless medical journals around the world. Your capture will mark a new understanding of ghosts and the metaphysical. You should be honored, really.”
Before Danny could try to dissuade her further, she pulled the black button from her pocket once more, twisting the small knob on the side before pressing down. Danny’s vision went dark, pain enveloping every sense. He could smell it, taste it, see the dense sensation dancing across his blackened vision. It sounded a bit like his own screams. Possibly, he was just hearing himself, though he was unsure. Because the pain was messing with him. The moment it hit him he couldn’t think or move, his eyes straining to shut but unable. They were dry. He couldn’t do anything about it.
When the searing hot fire ebbed from his consciousness, Danny was trembling. Or possibly twitching. He wasn’t in the position to discern any information like that. He was laid out on a table, arms pinned to his sides by thick metal cuffs. His legs were held together by the same kind of restraints, and he could feel more than see the same material wrapping around his neck. There was no way out, no way he could escape the hell he’d found himself in.
It wasn’t until the first incision that Danny realized Agent Alpha was in the room. Upon feeling the deep, stabbing, slicing pain, he threw his head to the side, coming eye to eye with her. She was watching on in awe, no longer putting on a mask. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at the only true emotion he’d gotten from her, not when it was so teasing and taunting.
There was a long stretch of time between the beginning of the incisions and the end of making them. He kept his head turned, eyes closed, fists clenched at his sides. When he felt them peel back his skin, he grunted, unable to stop himself. Nobody so much as acknowledged the sound. It was like he was invisible. Everybody was in that room because of him, and yet he was unseen.
Now, to someone who had never been through what was happening to Danny, the following sentiment may not have made any sense. He could handle someone slicing into him, prying him open, and even digging around inside him like they were searching for treasure. What he couldn’t take was when they tried to remove a part of him. It felt like his chest, but when Danny opened his eyes, and dared to look, he saw that one of the scientists had pulled his lungs just out of their usual place. They were trying to take away his lungs. The organ he used to do the thing he didn’t really need to do. But breathing meant so much more to him than survival. It was a reminder that he could choose to live. It was proof that Danny wasn’t powerless. He wasn’t invisible — he refused to be.
The places the metal was touching Danny’s skin began to burn with such intensity and volition, he had a hard time wrapping his head around it. In a blink of the eye, the room was painted green, and for a horrifying moment, Danny imagined it was his own ectoplasmic blood. A second later, he realized it was just him. He was glowing, the space in his chest where his core was emitting a defensive hiss and vibrating dangerously. Another blink of the eyes, and Danny was somewhere entirely different.
Gone were the restraints he’d grown somewhat accustomed to. Instead, the blinding green glow dimmed until he found himself lying in a puddle of deep red blood, streaks of glowing green swirled within. He’d long since forgotten if he was in human or ghost form, and when he heard footsteps running nearer to him with each passing second, he couldn’t help but be consumed by the thought. He hardly managed to push himself up to wobbly elbows, looking quickly around to find himself in a dark, damp alleyway. Danny then looked down at himself, finding he was in his human form, stripped of clothing expect for a pair of briefs. Instead of looking up as the footsteps grew nearer yet, he found he couldn’t pull his gaze from the carnage that was his upper body.
The thing about being transgender was that Danny was used to being told the surgeries he wanted were ‘mutilation’. These people would change their tune if they saw real mutilation, like the mess of a chest that was left after the scientists’ careless incisions. Immediately, Danny’s vision clouded, his head feeling as though it was stuffed with cotton as ringing started to drown out the patter of approaching footsteps. Time slowed just as he forced his head up, coming eye to eye with a man. His crimson gaze was lit up, long black hair coming up to float around his face. Shakily, and with what little strength he had left, Danny held up one of his hands, letting a weak ball of ectoplasmic energy form there.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man’s accent was unlike any Danny had heard before. He held up his hands in a placating manner, his face betraying his confusion as his hair slowly fell and his illuminated eyes dimmed. Danny refused to lower his shuddering arm, trying and failing to blink tears from his eyes. “What happened to you?” the man asked, the accent still sounding strange to Danny, though he pushed the fact aside.
“Go away,” Danny hissed out, though the words were no doubt ghost speak if the man’s expression was anything to go off of. “Leave me alone!” he yelled now, startling the man. The fear dropped into the air like blood in the water, and Danny being the shark he was, he picked up on it immediately. The pang of strong emotion caused just enough of a shock that he lowered his arm on instinct, curling in on himself as the energy ball dissipated.
“American?” the man asked, accent suddenly gone and replaced with hesitancy. Danny nodded, eyeing him with distrust and apprehension. The man crouched down closer to Danny’s level, moving subtly towards him as he did. He held out a steady, trained hand, placing it on Danny’s leg in a sort of comforting gesture. “I am friend.”
Danny shook his head, tears clouding his vision further as he tried and failed to pull himself back with his arms. “No. I can take care of this myself. Really, I’m fine! Just go, leave me alone, please,” he begged, voice ragged and pleading. When the man before him simply continued to stare, he knew he was in trouble; there was no way this guy was leaving. Danny couldn’t blame him, either. This was a scene from a horror movie, and this person just wanted to help.
Maybe…maybe it would be alright to accept the assistance being kindly offered to him. This man’s aura screamed of concern and warmth, even if it was buried under falsified stoicism. Surely, Danny had learned to trust his instincts by now, and this time they were telling him to trust, to just let go. So, he did, slowly lowering himself back to the ground and staring up at the night sky as he did. There, the stars glittered, though he was having a hard time tracking the constellations he knew so well. It must have been in his head; surely the stars hadn’t changed.
“I need to get you to hospital,” the man spoke slowly, as though thinking through each word. Translating. He wasn’t used to speaking English.
“No hospitals,” Danny seethed, blinking hard a few times before shifting his gaze to the man. “Please. No hospitals. I can’t.”
The man contemplated carefully his next move, aura shifting to reflect his reluctance. Eventually, he nodded, taking a device from a pocket of his long black trench coat and typing away. Danny took the chance to look over the man closer, still unsure if he posed any real threat.
His long black hair fell in loose, messy waves down to just below his shoulders. He had red eyes, though they were no longer glowing. Danny also noted that his ghost sense hadn’t gone off. This was a human, yet one who had been able to make his own eyes glow and hair float. The dark circles under those crimson eyes were pronounced, indicative of poor sleep. He was pale, tall, a touch lanky but not in a way that wasn’t athletic. His hands were calloused and bandaged, wrapped as though he was ready for a boxing match, but without the gloves. He was a fighter, that much was made clear before Danny even looked closer at his posture, which was lithe and agile, like a cat poised to attack.
When he looked up from the device and pocketed it, Danny tensed again, trying to pretend he hadn’t just been staring at the man. “A friend will meet us,” the man assured Danny, quickly adding, “No hospital!”
Slowly, Danny nodded, trying to wrap his fuzzy mind around the current situation. He looked back down at his chest, which was evidently a bad idea. The sight of his skin peeled back and slightly green glowing organs on display was nauseating, causing him to turn over and promptly vomit onto the pavement below. The projectile was bright green, hints of dark red speckled within. By the time Danny was done emptying the contents of his stomach, he felt so much worse than before. The open air grabbing hold of his internal organs made his head swim, and the sensation of his skin stretched to accommodate the hole in his chest made him want to curl up in a ball and cry like never before. Be he wasn’t alone, so he instead put on what he hoped was a brave face and looked back to the man.
“I’m Danny,” he said slowly, motioning to himself as he propped himself up on his elbows once more. He flinched as one of his elbows landed in the puddle of his own vomit, though recovered quickly and tried to ignore the vile sensation.
The man moved over to Danny, helping him sit up further. Together, the two managed to get him leaned up against one of the brick buildings, a few yards away from the mess he’d made. The man sat across the alleyway from Danny, studying his face with such intensity it was almost unnerving.
“You can call me Aizawa,” the man — Aizawa — introduced himself with a small nod. “Danny, what happened?”
Danny stiffened so hard, he could feel the pull of his skin and muscles. He winced as a result, looking pointedly at Aizawa as he felt weak and out of control and hoped he may seem intimidating. “Nothing.”
“Danny.” It was the same tone Jazz used when Danny was doing something selfless, though stupid. Aizawa stared him down, silently waiting for an answer that didn’t come. Finally, he broke the silence again. “I want to help. You need to tell me what happened.”
“I don’t need to do anything!” Danny snapped his response, tears springing to his eyes. He looked quickly away from Aizawa, though found himself unable to keep the tracks of moisture from pooling and falling down his face. “I should go. I can take care of myself.”
Danny tried and failed to stand up, causing his vision to tilt to the side and spin as he sat back down hard on his butt. His tailbone ached from sudden impact, and he blinked black spots rapidly from his eyes. While in his daze, Aizawa hummed softly, earning a low sound and a confused stare from Danny as his vision slowly cleared.
“My friend has a healing quirk,” Aizawa explained as if Danny was supposed to know what that meant. “She will be here shortly. Then, we can take you to police station and get you back to your family—“
“No!” Danny yelled, louder than he meant to though he couldn’t find it in himself to care at that moment. “No. They know now, they— I can’t go back I won’t!” He tried fruitlessly to scoot further back towards the wall he was against, eventually giving up and leaning his head back so he was looking up at the stars again. “They must hate me. After everything I’ve done for them, for everyone, they all must hate me.”
The energy in the air tasted like pity, and while Danny didn’t like it, at least there was a hint of understanding accompanying the emotion. “Alright. No hospitals, no police station.” Danny looked back down at Aizawa, who was looking on at him like an impossible to solve puzzle. “Do you know anyone in Japan?”
Danny blinked slowly at Aizawa, trying to comprehend the information presented to him. Somehow, he’d ended up on the other side of the world. Strange. “No.”
“Is there anyone in America you want me to get in touch with?” Aizawa continued his line of questioning.
Resisting the urge to look down at his chest again, Danny shook his head. No, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing him in such a state. Even Jazz, who had been with him through some of the nastier bits of being half ghost, wouldn’t be able to handle what had happened to him. “I’m sorry.”
Confusion dropped into the air, and Aizawa tilted his head just slightly to the side, continuing to study Danny’s face. “You do not have to be sorry. I am sorry.”
Danny swallowed around the newfound lump in his throat, closing his eyes and letting more tears fall. “Whatever.”
It wasn’t clear how long the two sat there, waiting for Aizawa’s friend. During the stretch of time, Danny secretly wondered if this man was some sort of maniac criminal, and him and his friend were getting ready to kill him and hock his organs on the black market. The thought almost made him laugh, though he kept both his skepticism and his twisted humor to himself. At one point, Aizawa lightly kicked one of Danny’s legs with his own, causing the teen to open his eyes and glare at the older man.
“Sorry,” Aizawa apologized, holding up both hands. “I had to make sure you were alive.”
Danny nodded slowly before closing his eyes once more, head still leaned back against the old, dirty brick. It was maybe five minutes later that Aizawa’s phone gave a few synchronized beeps, and he scrambled to his feet and towards one of the ends of the alleyway. Danny watched groggily from his spot, his focus slipping as a short blur joined Aizawa. The two indistinct shapes walked towards Danny, and in his hazy state, he forgot what exactly he was doing there. Driven by pain and fear alone, he growled low and feral, hissing and displaying extended canine teeth to the shorter blur beside Aizawa.
“Danny,” Aizawa’s tone was laced with the instinctual fear Danny knew he was causing. “This is friend. She is going to help you with your…wounds.”
The woman’s face came into focus above Danny, small and pale and wrinkled with mostly pulled back grey hair framing it. She smiled sadly at him, hands grabbing him by his shoulders. The teen worked hard not to hiss or growl, though a few did come through. She just continued to look at him, hands moving slowly and tentatively towards his chest. With quick precision, she folded the flaps of skin back over Danny’s chest, eyes hardly leaving his as she did. He grunted low and guttural at the sudden shift, though it did feel better immediately.
“Grab me some rubbing alcohol,” she demanded, not to Danny but to Aizawa. Her words were veiled in the same sort of accent Aizawa’s had held earlier, though he could still understand them and knew they meant more pain to come. He started struggling, at which point the woman placed strong hands on his shoulders once again. “What is the matter?” she asked, voice suddenly devoid of her accent.
“The rubbing alcohol,” Danny explained, wide eyes blinking a few times at her as he felt himself grow more frantic. “It’ll hurt, won’t it?”
The woman threw her head over her shoulder, talking to Aizawa with that same odd accent from before. “I thought you said he speaks English, not Japanese, Shouta.”
“Full of surprises, this one,” Aizawa responded, dialect and voice distinctly different than his words from before. “Here’s the alcohol.”
At the reminder of what was about to happen, Danny tried again to struggle away from the woman, who turned her attention back to him again. “Hold him still,” she instructed Aizawa.
Before he knew it, Aizawa’s hands were on Danny’s shoulders, holding him firmly against the wall. The woman pulled her own gloved hands away and readied a cloth with a healthy dose of alcohol. She looked at Danny, who was shaking his head and sending her a pleading expression.
“This will hurt,” she declared. “I am sorry, but I need to clean out the wound and stitch it up before I can use my quirk.”
Danny closed his eyes hard, nodding once and sniffling uselessly. The pain that followed was hard to describe, sharp and burning and inside of him, everywhere. When she was done, he was left shuddering and whimpering, eyes still squeezed shut as the stitches began next. He’d gotten plenty of sutures from Sam over the years, but none of them had been this deep. That meant the pain demanded a wider berth, demanded more of Danny’s strength to bear. He eventually felt a pull of thread and heard the snip of scissors, prying his eyes open and looking back at the focused face of the mystery woman. She looked at him again, smiling sadly and nodding her head.
“I am going to use my quirk now. It will help you heal at increased rate, but at the expense of your energy stores.” She took at Danny’s confused expression, though didn’t elaborate any further. Instead, she puckered her lips, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. He immediately looked over her shoulder at Aizawa, who smiled softly and nodded at him reassuringly. Deciding he had nothing left to lose, Danny let himself relax back into the wall as the woman pressed a firm kiss to his forehead.
In an instant, he felt better, but tired. The once sharp pain in his chest dulled to a throbbing kind that beat along with his arhythmic heart. He looked on at her as she pulled back, wiping her lips and looking down at Danny as though she was expecting something to happen. He blinked twice, looking back to Aizawa, who was suddenly a lot blurrier. One more slow blink of the eyes, and he was staring back at the woman, who had now grown hazy as well.
“It is alright, little one,” the woman soothed, tone even and steady. “You can relax now. All will be well.”
There was no reason for Danny to believe her. Hell, there seemed to be a million not to. But in that moment, all he wanted to do was trust, for once in his short half life. So, with nothing left to lose, he closed his eyes fully, feeling deep slumber wash over him in an instant.