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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

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Seasons of PD: Season 1: Lonnie Rodiger (A Jay Halstead + Halstead! Sister Imagine)

Any quotes from season one that I put in here, credit obviously goes to the writers of PD. For the sake of my story, Ben Corson was killed when he was 11 so you would've been 10.

Trigger warning for mentions of rape and murder.

Jay's age: 27

Your age: 13

Jay walked up the steps of the front porch of his childhood home. With how crazy gangs have become the past few weeks, it was hard for him to get a good night's sleep without his phone going off, let alone keep track of what day it was. So, when he walked into the district this morning and learned that it was the day of what would've been Ben Corson's fourteenth birthday, he was crushed. He'd learned how to deal with the pain because it wasn't his best friend, it was the little brother of his ex-girlfriend. But, he was your best friend and, despite the saying that time heals all wounds, this day was still hard on you. It was a bit better than when the night he was killed rolled around each year, but it was hard nonetheless. It was also hard because Jay had to see his dad, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"Hey, Jay. How's work?" Pat Halstead asked as his youngest son entered the house. He was seated in the recliner in the living room, catching the highlights of the Blackhawks game from last night.

"Please don't do that," Jay stated.

"Do what?" Pat asked as he muted the tv.

"Pretend like you care. Pretend like you were there for me when I was Y/N's age because we both know you weren't. Remember that fight I got--"

"Jay? Are we going to the Corsons?" you asked, popping into the living room and stopping your dad and Jay's conversation in its tracks.

"Uh, yeah, c'mon let's go," Jay faltered.

You smiled, but it was more of just tipping one side of your lips upward. Today was a day that didn't warrant full smiles, only half-smiles and maybe a few quiet giggles like when you, Jay, Gail, Danny, and occasionally Allie if she was home, told stories about yours and Ben's escapades when you were younger...when Ben was alive.

"Thanks. I made a card, too." You turned to your dad before you left. "Bye, Dad. See you tonight."

"Bye, don't let her eat too much cake, Jay," your dad replied.

"And just for that, you're getting two pieces," Jay whispered in your ear as soon as you were out on the front porch. You rolled your eyes. "Hey, don't use that teenage sass with me, missy."

"Shut up," you joked. "It's just funny because every time Dad tells you not to do something, you do it anyway. It's probably because it's more fun when you're not allowed to do it."

"Okay, fine, I guess you're right about that."

"Ha, you're wrong about something!"

"Technically, I wasn't wrong. I just said you were right. But, do not tell Will."

"No promises."

You walked up the porch steps and Jay rapped on the door of the Corson's. You took a deep breath, trying to forget the many afternoons after school that you'd do the same exact thing, impatiently waiting for Ben to emerge so that you could both play in the backyard together until one of you got called inside for dinner, not without promises to play with each other the next day.

"You okay?" Jay asked, noticing your change in demeanor from joking with him to solemn in a matter of seconds.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Jay, Y/N," Gail Corson said as she answered the door after you and Jay had each given her a hug.

You walked inside to the kitchen table, where Ben's dad, Danny, was just sitting, staring into space. "Hey, Danny," Jay said.

"Hi, Jay. Y/N," he replied.

You never knew what to say when it came to this day, so you just handed Danny the envelope. "I, uh, I made a card for Ben," you said. "I don't know if you want to open it and read it or just put it somewhere, I just--"

"I'll open it, sweetheart," Gail interrupted and then took the card from her husband.

You had made the card out of light blue construction paper and had used a navy blue pen to write in your best cursive handwriting, Happy 14th birthday, Ben!, since blue was Ben's favorite color. You hadn't known what else to write, because, what else could you write? Tell him what he was missing out on with being gone and cry so hard while making the card that that marker smudged and bled through the other side of the construction paper? No, you couldn't do that. So, you had resorted to printing out some pictures of you and Ben (some with you, Ben, Jay, Allie, and the occasional one with Will) on computer paper, cut them out, and glued them inside the card. You wanted the card to be filled with happy, funny memories, not sad, sappy writing.

Gail let out a sad laugh. "When was this one taken?"

You looked at the picture she was pointing at. It was a selfie no doubt taken on Allie's old flip phone. In it, Jay and Allie were making funny faces and you and Ben were both smiling proudly because of the work you had done.

Jay was supposed to be babysitting you and Allie was supposed to be babysitting Ben since your parents and his parents had gone out for dinner together. You both should have been in bed in your own separate houses since there was a rule about Allie and Jay not hanging out alone together at home when there were no parents around, but you had lost count of how many times they had broken that rule.

It was around 11 at night when Ben had woken you up with two black, Crayola markers in his hand and had told you that both Jay and Allie were asleep on the couch. So, as quiet as you could, you both tip-toed into the living room, uncapped your markers, and got to work.

You knew they had seen the trouble you two had gotten into when you heard running. You and Ben giggled to yourselves as you heard the water running from the bathroom.

Soon enough, Jay flung your door open. And, you guys just couldn't help yourselves and started to laugh even harder.

Then, to get you back, Jay had tickled you and Allie tickled Ben. Once you had all calmed down, Allie suggested that the four of you take a picture. And, the next time Allie and Ben came over when Jay was babysitting, he was sure to hide all the markers on the top shelf of his bookshelf in his bedroom where there was no way either of you would be able to find them, let alone reach them.

"So, you and Allie did hang out together with no parental supervision," Danny chirped. "Don't do stupid things like your brother here, Y/N."

"Hey," Jay started to defend himself. "We learned our lesson...to hide the markers."

"Do you remember when he got in trouble for pushing some kid on the playground, Gail?" Danny asked his wife.

"Oh, how could I forget that! I got a call from the school saying that Ben was in trouble and I knew on my way over there that he'd be grounded from the tv for weeks. But, then in the car on the ride home, he explained to me that some kid in his grade was telling Y/N she couldn't play with them since she was a grade below them. Then, he pushed him down and said that, yes, she could play."

"You never told me the full story of that, Y/N. What's this kid's name?" Jay asked.

"Jay, it was years ago! Give the overprotective big brother thing a rest, would you?"

"Would you kids like some cake?" Gail asked.

You swallowed. Chocolate on chocolate cake, Ben's favorite and yours. But, now on your birthday, you'd switched to marble just so that you wouldn't be reminded of how Ben would never see you on your birthday again.

Jay noticed your discomfort and how you probably didn't want to start bawling your eyes out just because you didn't want Gail and Danny to start crying, as well. Even though they'd probably done enough crying today as it was.

"Actually, we gotta run. I have to get Y/N home because she has homework to do and I have some police business to tend to," Jay answered, sensing your discomfort as the good detective he was.

"At least let me give you a slice to go," Gail suggested.

Abruptly, Danny stood up and shoved his chair under the table, and left the kitchen. You heard a door slam.

You widened your eyes for a split second and then quickly regained your composure. His son was dead and his killer was still on the loose; he had every right to lash out.

"This is always a tough day for him," Gail started. "He won't eat it. I just end up throwing it out."

Jay nodded. "Small slice." He turned to look at you. "And an even bigger slice for her."

Gail went over to a cupboard and pulled out two Tupperware containers and then two plastic forks from a drawer. Then, she cut two slices of cake and placed them inside the containers, handing you the one that contained the bigger slice.

"Thank you," you said.

"Yes, thank you," Jay agreed. "And, if there's anything either you or Danny need, please don't hesitate to call me."

Gail nodded and the two of you left the Corson's house, cake in hand.

"Happy birthday, Ben," you whispered when you were walking down the steps.

Then, when you got back to your house, Jay pulled out his keys and unlocked his car. "Hop in," he told you.

"Where are we going?" you asked. "I thought you had some police stuff to do?"

"You know how on Mom's birthday, we always go to the cemetery and plant flowers?" he asked. You nodded. That day was always full of crying despite how old you got. Hell, even Jay cried. It was one of the only times that he'd let his guard down and let his emotions take over in full force. "Look in the backseat."

There, sitting on the backseat on a towel so that dirt wouldn't get everywhere, was a carton full of Morning Glories. "Blue. Ben's favorite color."

"Yeah," Jay said, the volume of his voice almost a whisper. "We just have to make a quick pitstop first and then we'll go and plant them." You both buckled up and then Jay actually realized that he might have overlooked something. "You don't actually have a ton of homework to get done, do you?"

"No, even if I did, I wouldn't be able to focus on it." You took a bite of the birthday cake. "Does it get any easier?"

"Does what get any easier?" he asked, while still keeping his eyes on the road, his cake forgotten.

"You know, losing people. I know it'll be hard every year for Mom because she was our mom--"

"First of all, she's still our mom, Y/N. No one is going to replace her. Second of all, continue."

"Sorry, I know you got more time with her and knew her better than I did--"

"Listen, if you ever want to hear stories about Mom or Mom and Dad or anything like that, just ask me. I know you were just a kid, hell you are still just a kid, but you can always ask me about her. Always, okay?"

You nodded, feeling grateful that you at least had one brother who looked out for you. Lord knows Will didn't since he was barely home. You didn't hold a grudge against him or anything like Jay did, you just felt like he wasn't there. And, you knew that him not being there had hurt Jay, so it was hard for the three of you to all act like siblings when you felt like you'd need to jump in and stop a fight between your brothers at any moment. If it was just you and Will or just you and Jay, your relationship was great. But, when it was the three of you together, you could practically feel the tension between Will and Jay.

"So, does it get easier? Losing friends I mean. Like, when their birthdays come around or the day they died, does your heart feel like it isn't being ripped out of your chest every second of those days?"

You assumed that Jay had lost friends when he was overseas, which was why he came home from his second tour a year earlier than scheduled. That and your mom was sick.

"That's how you're feeling with Ben? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"I knew you had your own stuff going on with being a detective and all and I know you think you know who did it and I don't want you going to prison."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. My job will never be more important than you." It might be more important than Will, he thought to himself. But, you didn't need to know that piece of information. "But, to answer your question, no it doesn't get any easier. I mean it kinda does, because the pain of losing them isn't as fresh as the years go by, but the day still sucks no matter how many years it's been."

"Then how do you deal with? When those days of the year roll around?"

"Distract yourself to try and forget. But, pretend I didn't tell you that. Go talk to someone instead."

"That's not what you do though, is it? Talk to someone?"

"Do as I say, kid. Do as I say, not as I do."

"Will you ever stop calling me kid? I'm thirteen, Jay!"

"Nope, in my head you're still that four-year-old with the Build-A-Bear."

He pulled the car up to the curb. You looked up as Jay put it in the park. "Why are we here?"

"Just, stay in the car, okay? I'm gonna be right outside, but I just have something I need to take care of."

"Okay."

You knew this house. You weren't going to tell Jay, but you walked past it every day when going to school because it was shorter than taking the route your parents had taught you to take. Jay was the one who actually taught you to take this route three years ago when he had walked you to school after Ben's death. But, he told you never to take this way to or from school when you were alone. But, seeing as it was five minutes faster and you were a teenager and cherished every second of sleep, you didn't listen and took this way every single school day.

Jay got out of the car and leaned up against it. Then, he opened his container of chocolate on chocolate birthday cake and began to eat it. You knew what he was doing. It was the reason he had taken this route to school with you. He told you it was because it was faster, but you knew it was because he wanted to tail Lonnie Rodiger...which you assumed was the reason why he didn't want you walking here alone. Because a pedophile lived here. Well, technically he wasn't a pedophile yet because he wasn't convicted, but you had heard enough conversations between Jay, Gail, and Danny when they all thought you were out of earshot to know that Lonnie was the one who killed your childhood best friend.

You saw Lonnie peak out through the curtains of one of the windows. And, if it weren't for Jay's water bottle that was sitting in the cupholder that you quickly took a swig of, you would've choked on your bite of cake.

A patrol car pulled up across the street and a uniformed cop came out. It was the same kind of uniform that Jay had been wearing the night you ran over to the Corson's house when it became a crime scene. You quickly wiped the few tears away at the memory of that night. If Jay got arrested, you knew you'd have to go with him because you couldn't drive. And, you didn't want to be crying in the back of a cop car while Jay was trying to talk his way out of an arrest.

Jay resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, they called the cops! Of course, they did! They'd call the cops and arrest him for harassing a pedophile and a killer, but they wouldn't arrest Lonnie for being a pedophile and a killer.

"Can I see your driver's license?" the patrolman asked.

Jay lifted his shirt, revealing his badge and gun. Despite being off duty, he had it. He always had it when he came around the Rodiger house. If Lonnie struck first, then he'd have him on assaulting an officer...and have an excuse to kill the son of a bitch. It would be in self-defense after all. He feared serious bodily harm.

But, of course, that wasn't going to happen, not today anyway.

"Halstead. Intelligence," Jay answered.

"This is harassment!" Phil Rodiger yelled as marched outside and pointed at Jay, Lonnie right behind him.

"Just eating some birthday cake," Jay said, poking the cake with his plastic fork. "Today would've been a birthday."

You felt your lip begin to tremble.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you kept telling yourself.

But, it was no use. It was just those three words: would have been.

It would have been Ben's fourteenth birthday if he was still here and if he wasn't buried in the ground in the cemetery, a high collared shirt on to hide the strangulation marks that Lonnie gave him when he wrapped a rope around his neck and pulled, choking him to death.

If he were still here, he would've had a birthday party. It might have been small with only a few people. You might not even have been invited because you're in middle school and middle schoolers like to talk. And, maybe, if you had been invited, people would have said that he had a crush on you and teased him about it.

Maybe, the early stages of puberty would have hit Ben by now and he would have become what you deemed to be cute. Maybe, he would've had a crush on you and you would've had a crush on him if he was still around. But, he would forever be stuck in your head as your best friend, no romantic feelings whatsoever, since he only lived to be eleven years old.

"Arrest him!" Phil Rodiger yelled, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Get him out of here!"

This was it. Maybe the patrolman wouldn't notice you were in the car and you could sneak back home in a few minutes and call Erin, get her to talk to Voight about getting your brother out of lockup. (Yes, you had Erin's number because you needed questions answered that would make your dad and Jay uncomfortable. Even though Will was a doctor, there was no way you would ask him about girl stuff, even though you were pretty sure he had heard and seen it all in New York.)

"Sorry, pal," the patrolman said.

Okay, so you wouldn't be dragged into the back of a patrol car and also wouldn't have to help Jay beat a charge. Thank god your brother was a part of Chicago's famous Intelligence Unit.

You set your cake on the dashboard. You couldn't take it anymore. If Jay wasn't going to say it, you would.

Jay heard the passenger side door open and whipped his head around. "Y/N," he warned. "Get back in the car."

"He killed my best friend, Jay!" you yelled, tears running down your cheeks. "What do you want me to do? Sit in the car and watch him just get away with it?"

The patrolman's eyes grew wide. Seeing that made you realize what you had just said.

You just accused Lonnie of murder.

"Y/N!" Jay yelled. You looked up to see that he had thrown his cake on the ground. "Get back in the car!"

Okay, so Jay's scary when he's angry, noted.

You made your way around the car and into the passenger seat. Then, you just watched as Jay talked to the patrolman, trying to sort this all out.

You didn't mean to do it. It just came out.

You fucked up. Maybe you were going to be the one arrested this time. And, since you weren't a cop, there'd be no way to easily get out of those handcuffs.

You put your head in your hands and changed the radio station, trying your best to make sure you didn't hear the conversation between Jay and the patrolman.

Soon, the patrolman sped off. You were safe. But, Lonnie and Phil were still standing across the street, outside, watching Jay, watching you.

"Get outta here!" Phil yelled.

Jay was almost to the car when he turned around, rage painted on his freckled face. "Three years ago today, Lonnie! Three years! He would've been fourteen! Fourteen!"

"I'm gonna call my lawyer! I'm getting a restraining order!" Phil promised.

"Yeah? Well, I'm gonna give you a reason to need one someday! You and your sick-ass son!"

He slammed the door shut, but you didn't look at him, just kept your gaze on the world outside the passenger side. Jay turned the key and his car roared to life. You heard him sigh, but didn't say a word.

"Look, I'm sorry," he began as he started driving.

"So you get to confront him but when I try it's all get back in the car, Y/N?" you quoted his words from earlier using a mocking tone.

"Lonnie's fu- he's messed up in the head, okay? I don't want him to have any reason to come after you. We both know what he did to Ben and I wish we could nail him on that, but right now, with the evidence that there is, it just can't happen. I'm sorry, I just wanted to keep you safe. I couldn't live with myself if that psycho did anything to you."

"I guess you have a point."

"I always have a point."

Ten minutes later you pulled up to the cemetery. Jay grabbed the small bag of tools and you carried the flowers, not without being warned every thirty seconds not to tip them at all so that they didn't fall out. It was the same thing as when you'd plant them at your mom's grave: you'd always be the one to carry the flowers, but they'd always warn you to be careful with them and then say that you weren't carrying them next year...and then they'd forget they'd said that and the process would repeat itself.

"I'll dig up the first bit of dirt and then you can help me. The top part's always the hardest," Jay said once you had made it to Ben's grave and he started rummaging through the tools.

"Okay." You didn't know what else to say. You just stared at the headstone. You wished he'd just come back to as a ghost or spirit or something for a minute--literally just sixty seconds--so that he could tell you that Lonnie did it.

Twenty minutes later, you and Jay stood up and admired your work. There were flowers there already from the Corson family, but the blue gave even more color to the normally dismal place.

"I'm gonna go find a trash can," Jay said as he picked up the empty plastic pots that the flowers came in. "Give you some time alone."

You nodded, not knowing what to say. Even when Jay left you had no idea what to say. It had been three years, so you didn't feel like you needed to talk to Ben. After all, if he was in heaven, he was looking down on you and knew what was going on in your life, so there was no reason to tell him about it. And, he was a kid, so he had to have gone to heaven, right?

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

You heard thunder rumble from above, which drowned out the sound of your choked sobs. The grass beside you started to get wet from the drizzle that had just started, but by how many seconds there were between each clap of thunder, you knew a downpour was just a matter of minutes away.

So many things could have gone differently that night. If Ben had come over to your house to spend the night, he'd still be here. You knew you couldn't change anything. Hell, you didn't even talk about having a sleepover that night, that week, or even that weekend. And, the night he was murdered was a school night, so your dad wouldn't have let Ben spend the night anyway. There was nothing you could have done.

Despite how many years passed, you wondered if you wouldn't have fallen asleep so fast that night if you would have been able to hear screams and called 911 for help. Maybe he'd still be alive if you couldn't fall asleep that night. Maybe, if Jay was off-duty that day and if there was a Blackhawks game on that night, he would've come over and you would've insisted on staying up late and ended up falling asleep on the couch. But, because of Jay being very observant, maybe he would've seen something, heard something, or even just felt that something was very wrong and could've stopped it and arrested Lonnie before it ended tragically.

You felt something wrap around your arms and looked up to see that Jay was back. You felt goosebumps on your body and that's when you realized your hair was sopping wet and water was dripping down the side of your face and was soaking your jeans and shirt.

You heard the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the large umbrella that Jay usually stowed in his trunk and pulled Jay's jean jacket that he just laid over your shoulders tighter around yourself.

He picked up his tools and turned to you. "You ready? Can't have you getting sick."

"How long have I just been crouched here?" you asked. You knew your thoughts sometimes got the best of you and before you knew it, an hour could've passed when your mind was focused on one subject.

"Until I thought you were going to freeze to death and get sick. And, it's only been about fifteen minutes. I ran to the bathroom and then grabbed the umbrella out of the car. You ready?" he repeated.

You wiped your eyes, not knowing if it was dried tears or dried raindrops on your cheeks. "Uh, yeah."

Jay picked up the bag of tools and you walked back to the car, the umbrella being big enough for both of you to fit underneath.

Once in the car, you slipped off Jay's jean jacket and tried to hand it back to him. "No, at least wear it until we get home. Dad'll kill me if he sees that you're sopping wet and then he'll think that I just left you out in the rain."

"Brother of the year." And, despite the circumstances, both of you laughed.

***

Math homework is due tomorrow...why does math have letters anyway? I'm never gonna need this in life. Snap out of it, Y/N. You can focus on that later. Just focus on the walk home. You have to be careful now since you're walking by their house.

You tried to turn your attention to the world ahead of you, or more accurately, the road and houses in front of you. You needed to be on high alert since you were about to walk past the Rodiger house. And, they saw you now...hopefully, they hadn't filed a restraining order against you, too. As far as you knew, it was just Jay, but you didn't need to have Jay get you out of trouble today.

Your eyes darted across the street to the house, while you tried to make sure you didn't cast your glance there too long as to be suspicious. It was Jay's job to be suspicious while walking past this house. It was your job to get to and from school safely when walking past this house. You'd leave the detective/spying/surveillance stuff to Jay.

You tried to focus on the road straight ahead of you, but it was no use when you saw movement out of the left side of your peripheral vision.

You turned and gasped. They turned too, and now you were frozen in place.

He widened his creepy eyes and stared back at you, like a deer caught in the headlights, like a criminal caught in the act because right now, that's what you assumed he was.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, neither of you breaking eye contact.

Then, you took off running. No way in hell were you telling your dad what just happened. One time he caught you walking home this way and said if he found out that you walked to or from school this way again that you'd be grounded for an undisclosed amount of time.

No one needed to know that you had just seen Lonnie Rodiger with duct tape and rope, the two things everyone assumed he had used to kill Ben Corson. No one needed to know. Just shut your mouth and don't tell anyone and everything would be fine. You would be fine.

***

Jay was sitting across from Antonio at Molly's, slowly sipping on the bit of whiskey left in his glass. "You knew the family?" Antonio asked him.

"He's the younger brother of a girl I dated in high school. Was Y/N's best friend, too. And his parents, Danny and Gail, they came to my graduation from the academy." When my dad wouldn't because he hates all my life choices. Probably hates me, too, Jay wanted to add but stopped himself. "I still see 'em on what would be Ben's birthday. Y/N comes too and god, you know what she asked me this year, Antonio?" Antonio shook his head. "She asked me if their birthdays or the day they died gets easier when it rolls around every year. She's thirteen! She shouldn't have to remember his birthday. Ben should be alive and Y/N should be seeing him on his birthday. But now all she probably remembers on his birthday is seeing his lifeless body lying in the grass...that's probably what she remembers." He took another sip of whiskey.

"Wait, you're saying your little sister saw the body at the crime scene?" Antonio asked.

"Uh, yeah. Me and my partner were first on scene. And...I see a shoe. I push the reeds back because Gail used to have this huge garden with really nice grass, reeds, flowers, other things. And, now she doesn't because it reminds her too much of that night.

"But uh, anyway, I pushed those reeds back..." He swallowed and tried to keep the tears at bay. He couldn't cry. Not in front of his mentor; not in front of the detective who got him into Intelligence in the first place, even if it was only because he caught a bullet in the process of trying to help Gabby and everyone's favorite after-shift hangout spot, Molly's. "And there he is. I still see his face."

Antonio took a swig of his beer. "How'd your sister find him?"

"My dad told me later that she had heard and seen the sirens and went to wake him up and then they came over to see what was going on. She was only nine, hell, she even had her teddy bear with her when they came outside. She was small and easy to miss. Before anyone could stop her...she, uh, she ducked under the crime scene tape and she saw him. I will never forget how she screamed out Ben's name.

"Then, I ran over to her and tried to block him from view, but you know as well as I do, Antonio, that seeing a body like that, well the damage is already done. So, then I just took her home and my partner explained the situation to my sergeant so that I didn't get in trouble for just leaving a crime scene. I never told her about the rape, just that he was dead. She probably put the pieces together that he was raped since she's gotten older, but I didn't heave the heart to tell her."

Antonio nodded. If he was in the same position as Jay was and Gabby was in your position, he knew he'd do the same exact thing. "I remember his dad alibied him out," Antonio stated. "But, they never had anything on Lonnie. Nothing?"

"No," Jay scoffed. "They caught him jerkin' it outside an elementary school a week prior to finding Ben. They found fucking kiddie porn on his computer. A-And secret pictures that he'd taken of Ben."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Nuh-uh. We all knew Lonnie did it. But, you know, his dad lied." Jay shrugged. "And, uh, they got a good lawyer for that sick of a bitch."

Jay took a sip of his whiskey, blinking back tears. Antonio sighed and looked at the young detective. "Hey, be careful. You hear me?"

"I know, I just--" Jay was cut off by his phone ringing. He looked at it. Why's Dad calling at 11 o'clock at night? Why is Dad calling me at all?

He declined the call.

"Who was that?" Antonio asked.

"Not important. Anyway, I'll be care--" His phone started ringing again. "Dammit," he muttered and then pressed the answer icon. "Yeah?"

"J-Jay?"

"Y/N? What are you still doing up? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"I didn't want to tell you because you and Dad always tell me not to walk there by myself, but I saw him and he saw me and I thought I'd be fine but now I can't sleep and--"

"Whoa, whoa. Take a breath, okay?"

You took a deep, shaky breath as few tears slipped down your face. You tried not to think about your encounter with Lonnie earlier today, but as you tried to sleep and the darkness took over the world, you couldn't stop your thoughts from running rampant. What if he was going to use that duct tape and rope on you now because he had seen you? Kill all the witnesses so that there wouldn't be a trial and he wouldn't get convicted?

"Now, tell me again what happened," Jay said calmly, all his cop instincts taking over and talking to as if you were a victim for the time being. "This time slower."

"I took the way home from school that you taught me to take and tell me to never take alone--"

"Y/N," Jay wiped a hand over his face. "Me and Dad told you not to go that way by yourself."

"I know, but I saw Lonnie and he had supplies and he saw me. I thought it was fine but now I can't sleep and--"

"Y/N," Jay started again. "Slow. Down. You saw Lonnie?"

At the mention of that name, Antonio looked up.

"Yeah," you answered, trying to slow your rate of speaking. "He had- he had rope and duct tape. And- and he saw me. I'm scared. I'm so scared, Jay. What if he comes after me now?" You covered your mouth with your hand to stop your dad from hearing your sobs. You assumed he was sleeping, and if he wasn't you hoped he didn't notice that you were on the phone. All he had to do was pick it up and see line in use and then you'd be in trouble for walking that way.

"Y/N, listen to me. I'm not gonna let that happen. I'm gonna leave Molly's right now and then be over there. Are you in your room?"

"Yeah."

"Is Dad still up?" Jay asked.

"I-I don't know."

"Okay, just stay put and I'll be there as soon as I can. And, we can explain it to Dad together, alright?"

"Okay. You promise you'll be here soon?"

"I promise. I'm leaving Molly's right now."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Okay, bye Jay."

Jay ended the call and started putting on his jacket. "What was that all about?" Antonio asked.

"Y/N took the fastest route home from school today, which goes by the Rodiger place. She said she saw Lonnie and he had duct tape and rope with him. He saw her, Antonio."

"Shit." Antonio pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table. "I got it. I'll be right behind you."

"Thanks, man."

***

Jay slowly turned the key in the lock and opened the door, Antonio following him. "Dad?" Jay asked.

"Jay?" he answered from the living room, sounding as if he had just woken up from falling asleep in front of the tv. "What are you doing here?"

"I can explain if you wanna go check on Y/N, Jay," Antonio suggested.

"Yeah, yeah that'd be great. Thanks, man."

You heard knocking at your door, causing you to draw in a deep breath. "Y/N? Open up, it's Jay."

You set Beary down--yes when you were scared you still liked to have your Build-A-Bear in your hand because it gave you comfort--and then stood up from your bed to open the door.

"Jay." You launched yourself into his arms before he could even comprehend what was happening. "I'm so scared. What if he comes after me?"

Jay wrapped his arms around you and ran his hand up and down your back, just like he had done a few years ago when he had brought you back home after you had seen Ben's lifeless body lying in the grass. "Shhh, shhh it's okay. You're okay." Now he was most definitely using the tone he used when talking to child victims.

"What if he- what if he comes after me though, Jay?" you asked, soaking his shirt with tears of fright.

"Hey," he pulled away. "Look at me." You looked up at your older brother. "I will not let that happen. Ever. You understand me?" You nodded. "Now, how about you pack a bag, and then you can stay at my place until this all blows over."

"Why?"

Jay sighed. "Just, please do it."

You pulled out a peach-colored duffle from your closet.

"I'll be right downstairs if you need me."

He walked downstairs to see your dad still sitting on the living room couch with Antonio sitting in the chair across from him. "I'm taking Y/N to my place for a few days until this whole thing gets sorted out," Jay announced.

"She was walking that way because you taught her how to take it!" Pat Halstead bellowed as he stood up off the couch and pointed an accusing finger at his youngest son. "If you had never walked that way when you took her to school, then we would never be in this position!"

"We?" Jay asked rhetorically. "I don't recall Y/N telling me that you were with her when she saw that sick son of bitch walking home with his weapons of choice! It's Y/N that's in this position! Not me, not you, not us, Y/N."

"She's my daughter!"

"Yeah, I gathered that," Jay scoffed. "At least you care about her...unlike how you weren't there for me and Will. Or, if my memory serves me correctly, it was when I was in my early teens when you stopped caring. So, I expect in the next two years that you'll stop taking good care of Y/N and stop showing up to her games, like you did for me and Will. Oh, and you'll start questioning her life choices, just like you did almost every damn day to both me and Will."

"It's not my fault that you made a stupid decision with your life and Will decided to leave and waste all his money and to do what? To go to Sudan and then to New York?"

"There you go again, same old same old. You want us to be here, but whenever we are, we just end up fighting."

"Okay, okay," Antonio butted in. "How about we all take a breath and then talk about what's gonna happen next."

Jay took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Your dad sat back down on the couch and crossed his arms in front of him.

"Good," Antonio began. "Y/N give you anything else about what she saw upstairs other than what she told you over the phone?"

"No," Jay answered. "She just told me that she's really scared that Lonnie's gonna come after her. Noting more about what she saw."

"Jay?" you asked as you poked your head into the living room, duffle bag slung over your shoulder. "I'm ready."

You said goodbye to your dad and then followed Jay to your car. He explained that Antonio was going to come to his apartment just for a little while so that they could discuss how they were going to proceed with the information you had given them. But, that you should go to sleep when you got to his apartment because it was a school night.

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?" you whined as you set your bag down next to the couch...which would also be your bed until all this was cleared up.

"I know you're not going to get a lot of sleep, but yeah, as much as it sucks, you have to go to school tomorrow."

It was nearing 12:30 and you had to be up for school at 6:00 since school started before 7:30 in the morning. You'd be lucky if you managed five hours of sleep.

"Please, Jay," you begged. "My first two classes are just choir and gym, so I can miss those. And, I'm pretty sure if you called me in it'd count as an excused absence. Please?"

"Fine," Jay conceded. "But just because I think it's stupid how early school starts."

You heard a knock on the door. "Be right there, Antonio!" Jay said, trying to keep his yelling voice at somewhat of a normal level since people in the other apartments were sleeping.

"I'm gonna go grab a blanket," you told Jay.

You grabbed a blanket and threw it on the couch as Jay went to answer the door and let Antonio inside.

"Jay, I'm stealing one of your pillows," you told him as you entered his bedroom area.

"Actually, you can take my bed for tonight," he suggested.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. In all the nights you had spent at Jay's apartment in the past few years when your dad had to work late or went out, you had always slept on that couch. And, it was because it was actually comfortable. (Jay's reasoning was that he didn't want to get one of his nightmares that happened a handful of times per year and break his hand from hitting the coffee table in his sleep because he was thinking that it was an enemy because he thought he was back in Afghanistan. But, of course, you didn't know that.)

"It's just because I need to talk to Antonio and I don't need you having easy access to the conversation."

You nodded, tiredness overtaking you. "Alright." You yawned. "I'm going to bed. 'Night guys."

Jay and Antonio both said goodnight and then you walked into Jay's bedroom area and slid the sliding doors closed. During that time, the two detectives each took a seat at the kitchen table.

"We can put a patrol car out in front of Lonnie's house," Jay suggested.

"You know we can't do that," Antonio told him.

"Well, why not? You know he's gonna kill again!" Jay resisted the urge to slam his fist down on the table.

"You have no solid proof. I know you believe Y/N, and I do, too, but we don't have proof. If we had cam or pod footage, we might be able to do that. But, as far as we know, we don't have that. Nothing's been reported or called in. Hell, for all we know Lonnie's doing a DIY project."

"So get his credit card records and security footage from the store," Jay growled.

"You know as well as I do Halstead, that we can't do that without a warrant. And for a warrant, we're gonna need sufficient evidence. And, the word of your sister just isn't gonna cut it this time. Sorry, man."

Jay sighed and put his head in his hands, then looked back up at Antonio. "I just can't let him do it. I can't let him kill another kid."

"I know. Believe me, neither you nor me want that, but for now, we just need to wait until the right time. And you, need to get some sleep."

"I guess you're right. Maybe sleep would help me figure out how to solve this thing."

***

Jay had just dropped you off at school--he had called the school and excused your absences from your first two classes--and was walking out of a small coffee shop a few blocks away from the district when his phone rang.

"What do you got, Jin?" Jay asked. Benefits of working in Intelligence and having a tech guy for the unit: getting him to dig into things under the table.

"That Lonnie Rodiger credit card you wanted me to track," Jin started on the other end of the line, "Just got a hit from a toy store downtown."

"Text me the address."

A few seconds later, Jin had texted Jay the address and he jumped in his car and made his way into the heart of downtown Chicago.

Then, he sat in his car and stared at the store, waiting for the scrawny, creepy-ass pedophile slash murderer to make his way out of it.

When Lonnie walked out, Jay just stared at him. If he got made, so what? He was in his car. He could say he was doing surveillance for another case that he couldn't talk about right now because it was an open investigation. But, he wouldn't be able to blame surveillance of an ongoing investigation for strangling Lonnie to death, killing him the exact same way as he had killed Ben Corson three years ago.

Lonnie was carrying a bag full of what Jay assumed were toys. The toys, the rope, the duct tape, Lonnie was going to strike again. And, Jay had to act fast to ensure that another kid didn't get their life taken away just because this bastard had sick, twisted fantasies.

Jay was about to call Jin back, see what else he could pull up on him, anything that gave him an excuse to call Atwater and Burgess to arrest him. But, his phone rang.

"Go for Jay," he answered.

"Where you at?" Voight asked on the other end of the line. "I know you came in late because of your sister, but I need you now."

"I'm on my way in," he lied.

"Good. We're in Chinatown. I'll send you the address."

"Oh, Sarge?"

"Yes, Halstead?"

"Do you mind if I leave for a bit around 2:15ish? It's just, Y/N has a doctor's appointment and my dad's working and I don't want her taking the bus--"

"Jay," Voight interrupted, "Take your sister to her appointment. I'll just send the address of where we're gonna be if we aren't at the district. Just, keep your phone on."

"Thanks, Sarge."

Of course, that appointment was a lie; Jay just wanted to pick you up from school and then drop you off at his apartment while he went back to work so that you wouldn't be at home where Lonnie could find you. But, Jay had to push that out of his mind right now because he was on another case with his unit that needed solving, his side case on Lonnie Rodiger needed to be put on the backburner...at least for the next few hours.

***

"Lonnie Rodiger's credit card," Jin said as Jay entered the tech room.

"Yeah, I know, I'm working on a court order so I don't get my ass handed to me by Voight, I know," Jay replied.

"Okay...you deal with that. All I was gonna say was that another hit came up from his card at a Home Depot in Humboldt Park. He bought..." Jin clicked some keys on his computer until the list of things Lonnie purchased popped up. "A two-person tent, a kerosene lamp, and some bug spray. A rapist-murderer planning a camping trip? Not much you can get him on with just that."

"Any chance he purchased rope and duct tape?" Jay asked.

Jin scrolled through the list of items again. "Not that I see here. Why?"

"Not important. Thanks for the help, Jin."

Jay walked back into the bullpen, about to grab his jacket and head into the locker room when Voight emerged from his office at the same time. "Halstead, my office."

"I told you to let the Rodiger thing go months ago," Voight told Jay when the door was securely shut.

"I have...for the most part." I have...until my sister got involved and told me he bought duct tape and rope and now she's staying at my place so that I can protect her from that sick-ass son of a bitch.

"If you're not straight with me, I can't protect you."

"You? Protect me? I don't need protecting, Sarge, but thanks for the offer. I'll keep it in mind if I ever go off the rails and kill someone."

"Jay, listen to me! What the hell is going on with you? You got here later than usual today, which I know you said is because of your sister, but you look exhausted like you haven't slept in days. And don't think I didn't notice that you've been constantly checking your phone when we weren't out in the field."

Jay sighed. "I think Lonnie's gonna kill another kid."

"Jay, I know that kid's family was like your own. But, you gotta be careful. You've got eyes on you. And, it's not just me this time."

"Copy that." Then, Jay exited his sergeant's office, grabbed his jacket off his chair, and headed to the locker room. Damn, did he really want to go home after that conversation with his boss.

"You headin' to Molly's, Jay?" Adam asked as they grabbed their stuff from the locker room.

"Nah, man. I got some stuff I gotta take care of," Jay replied. "Maybe another night."

"If you say so."

***

You were sitting on the couch reading a book when you heard a knock at Jay's apartment door. "Y/N, it's Jay, open up."

You got up and unlocked the door, letting him into his own apartment. "Why didn't you just unlock it yourself? Or, did I get your only key?

"Nope, you got my spare. I have mine." He pulled his keyring out of the front pocket of his jeans and set it down on the counter. "Just didn't want to scare you is all."

"Thanks, greatly appreciated. What are you hiding behind your back? And what smells so good?" you asked, seeing as Jay hadn't moved his left hand from behind his back and was trying really hard to make sure you didn't see what was there. Even when he had walked inside the apartment from the hallway, he still somehow hid it behind his back and out of your view. And, the smell of greasy food was starting to waft around the apartment so you had a pretty good idea what he was hiding.

He pulled a takeout bag from behind his back. "I got us Arby's!"

"Really? Did you get me mozzarella sticks?" you asked trying to grab the bag from him, but he held it out of your reach.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "Yes, I got you mozzarella sticks. Now, let me get this out of the bag and you can get the game set up?"

"Okay!" You sat on the couch and turned on the Blackhawks game that was going to start in five minutes. "It's ready!"

"Be right there!"

A minute later, Jay passed you a plate which contained an original roast beef and cheddar sandwich and of course, your precious mozzarella sticks and a few packs of Arby's and marinara sauce.

"Uh," Jay groaned as he lowered himself onto the couch.

"You're getting old," you laughed.

"I am not!" he protested.

"Yes, you are! Only old people sigh like that when they go to sit down!"

"Well, excuse me for having to chase psychos around the city for a living." You reached over and grabbed a few curly fries off his plate, hoping he was distracted enough by your old Jay comment that he didn't notice...he did. "Hey!"

"Oops." You squirted some Arby's sauce on your plate and dipped a curly fry in it. "Good." Jay just continued to stare at you. "Fine, here," you said as you handed him a mozzarella stick.

"You're not gonna offer me any marinara?"

You tossed him a pack. "Better?"

"Better." Both he and you turned your attention to the tv. "Remember, end of the second period, it's bedtime."

"Jay," you whined. "Please can I stay up and watch the entire game?"

"No, because I am not calling you in late tomorrow and getting to work later than usual because of it." Luckily today we didn't catch a case until around 10 o'clock this morning, so it didn't matter that I was late and tailing Lonnie anyway. "And, you're gonna be a grouch if you don't enough sleep."

"Jay! I am not grouchy!"

"Yes, Y/N, you are! Whoa, a fight!" And while your attention was quickly focused on the tv, Jay stole some of his curly fries back.

***

Jay walked into the district the next morning to be met with Erin and Alvin. "Did you guys catch the game last night?" he asked them as he slipped off his jacket and slung it over his desk chair. "Eighteen seconds into overtime, Kane scores a backhander. Guy's on fire this season."

Despite Jay telling you that you needed to go to bed after the end of the second period, the game was so good that he let you stay up to watch it all...the one caveat being that you had to get up in the morning with no complaint. And, you didn't complain one single time even though you almost fell asleep with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth when you were getting ready this morning.

Neither Erin nor Alvin had said anything, they just stared at Jay with worried looks on both their faces. "What's with you two?" Jay furrowed his eyebrows and walked closer to them.

"Halstead," Voight said after he opened his office door.

Jay's eyes widened. Shit, what'd I do now?

"Commander," Jay said as he saw Commander Perry standing in Voight's office. So, even when I'm a grown man, there's still a version of the principal's office. Who knew? Except, this principal controls my job...which means he controls my money. Whatever he thinks I did, it wasn't me.

"Halstead. Have a seat," Commander Perry told the detective.

"I'll stand." Jay placed his hands on his hips.

"Okay then. Where were you last night after shift?"

"Home. Why?"

"So, you're telling me you didn't go out at all last night?"

"I started to drive home from work, but then I turned around because I thought my little sister might want Arby's for dinner. If you want to count a drive-thru as going out, then yes I went out."

"And after that?" Commander Perry prodded.

"Me and my sister watched the Hawks game and I was in bed by midnight."

Commander Perry picked up some black and white photos that were taken from traffic cam footage and held them out to Jay, pointing at specific a specific car. "This was taken last night, right as you pulled into that Arby's. That's Rodiger and that's you, right behind him."

"Okay, so I happened to be getting my takeout behind a pedophile. Maybe he just wanted some curly fries, Lord knows Y/N did when she stole some of mine last night."

"Halstead!" Voight barked. "This isn't a laughing matter! Now shut up and listen!"

Jay clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, Detective, your alleged pedophile was found dead this morning."

"What?"

"So until this is straightened out, I suggest you find a better excuse than just watching a hockey game and eating fries with your impressionable little sister. Until then, you are officially stripped. Expect a call from Internal Affairs. They'll want to interview you as soon as possible."

"You mean they'll want to interrogate me as soon as possible."

"Jay!" Voight's voice boomed off the walls of the small office.

"I'm the one who wanted to stop that freak! And now I'm the target? Unbelievable!"

Jay flung open the door and was about to storm out when the Commander stopped him. "Halstead!"

"What? I tried to save my sister from this psycho because she saw him buy duct tape and rope and he knows that she saw him! So, excuse me for trying to make sure that my sister stays safe and doesn't end up like Ben Corson!"

"Y/N saw something?" Voight asked. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you."

"I told Antonio, but that's only because we were at Molly's when Y/N called me freaking out. And that's why she's staying with me because Lonnie knows where we live and I didn't want to get a call saying that my sister was murdered and--"

"Halstead, if that's the truth then this isn't just based on your word. We have a witness now. So, I'll talk to Detective Dawson and you go pick up your sister from school. We need her here for questioning. But, you are still stripped until we get this all sorted out."

***

"Can you please send Y/N Halstead to the office please?" the office secretary's voice came over your classroom intercom. "She'll be leaving for the rest of the day."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Leaving for the rest of the day? What? The last time you had to leave for the rest of the day unexpectedly was when your mom died.

"I'll send her down," your teacher replied.

"Alright, thank you." Then, she turned to you. "I'll have your missed work ready for you on Monday, Y/N, and I can email the other teachers you have today that you'll be missing their classes as well if you'd like?"

"That'd be great. Thank you."

"Have a great weekend, Y/N."

"Thank you. You too."

Then, you grabbed your books and made your way to your locker. Once you put everything you needed into your backpack, you made your way to the office. At least you were missing math and science class...you hated both of those subjects. Will got the brains when it came to those two.

But, your relief was short-lived when you saw Kim Burgess and Kevin Atwater standing in the office. You frantically pulled the door open. "Did something happen to Jay? Is he okay? Did he get hurt?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Kim quickly reassured you. "We just need to bring you down to the district is all."

"Why?" you asked, drawing out the word.

"It's better if your brother and Voight explain this to you. But, you are not in any trouble, Jay's not in any trouble, and he's fine," Kevin answered.

"Okay..."

They quickly signed you out and the three of you made your way to the parking lot where their squad car was parked. "Ever been in a patrol car, Y/N?" Kevin asked.

"No," you answered, opening the door to the backseat and throwing your backpack in.

"Well, today's your lucky day. We'll even let you control the music." The three of you got in and Kevin turned on the car and started fiddling with the controls on the radio. "Just tell me to stop when you hear a song you like."

***

"Jay!" you yelled as you ran up the stairs to Intelligence, your backpack bouncing up and down with every step you took. Jay walked out of the break room. You ran to him, narrowly missing Commander Perry. "What's going on? I didn't know I'd need to leave school and then Kim and Kevin came to pick me up and I thought you might be hurt but they said you weren't and--"

"Whoa, whoa," Jay cut you off. "Y/N, slow down. I'm okay. Everything's okay. Voight and Commander Perry here just need to ask you a couple of questions."

"But, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You're not in trouble, kid," Voight said. "Like your brother said, we just need to ask you a few questions and Jay will be with you the whole time."

Since neither Jay nor Voight could get ahold of your dad to get permission to talk to you, they had allowed Jay to sign off on it. And, since you were a minor, the person who signed that paperwork had to be in the room with you the entire time they were talking to you.

"You hungry?" Commander Perry asked as you sat down and Jay stood behind you. "You can grab a snack from the vending machine before we start if you'd like."

It was only 9:00 am. "No thank you," you replied. "I had breakfast a few hours ago and I'm still full from that. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome." He and Voight sat down across from you. "Now, you're probably wondering why you're here," Commander Perry started. "Your brother mentioned that you saw Lonnie Rodiger buy rope and duct tape?"

Your eyes widened and you drew in a breath. "Is he after me? Did he try and break into mine and Dad's house, Jay, because he was looking for me?"

"No, it's nothing like that," the commander interjected before you got worked up even more. "We just wanted to ask you what you saw is all."

You looked to Jay and he nodded, giving you the go-ahead to tell the two men what you had seen when you were walking home from school a few days ago. So, you did just that. You told them about walking home from school and seeing Lonnie with rope and duct tape and him seeing you.

"And you told your brother this?" Commander Perry asked.

"Uh, yeah, I wasn't going to tell him because I didn't want him to freak out or anything, but he always told me that if I saw anything off with Lonnie to tell him. And, I couldn't sleep that night, so I called him really late and he and Antonio came over."

"And what happened next?"

"Jay said that he wanted me to stay at his house until this all blew over because Lonnie saw me. He saw me. And, he knows where I live."

"So, Jay was trying to keep you safe?"

You nodded. "He's even been picking me up from school because he doesn't want me going home--to mine and my dad's place that is--to wait for him to pick me up after he's done with work. He's worried about me."

"Did he do anything else? Take you anywhere in the two days you've been staying with him?"

"No, nowhere other than school."

"Do anything fun?"

"He brought home Arby's last night and he let me stay up late and finish the Blackhawks game! Dad never lets me do that! And, they even won in overtime! And, I stole some of his curly fries."

"Do you know if he left last night after you went to bed?" Commander Perry asked.

"No, he didn't."

"And how can you be so sure about that? You were sleeping weren't you?"

Jay clenched his fists at his sides. You were a kid and this wasn't a trial, it was just getting a statement from you, not putting you on the witness stand.

"Jay never leaves me when he watches me at night. Never has and probably never will. Even when his girlfriend called when he watched me when I was little, he'd either make her come over to our house or would tell her that he was playing with me."

Voight chuckled at how you were spilling bits and pieces of Jay's life before he became a cop and entered his unit. He knew that Jay would never tell him these things, so it was funny hearing how protective and soft the big-shot detective of one of the most elite units of Chicago was with his little sister.

"Okay, thank you," Commander Perry said. "Do you know why we're asking you these questions?"

You shook your head, no.

"Halstead, you want to explain this. We'll butt in if needed," he said. He didn't know how much you knew about this alleged pedophile and murderer, so he figured it would be best to hand Jay the lead on the explanation portion.

Jay sat down in the chair next to you. "Y/N, you're not in trouble. I promise you that."

"You already told me that," you pointed out.

"I know, but I wanted to tell you again."

You furrowed your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side. "Then, why are they asking me questions about Lonnie and about you? Did he kill someone again? Like he did to Ben?"

Jay swallowed. He wasn't about to tell you the details of how someone murdered Lonnie Rodiger. Despite knowing the details of Ben's murder, you didn't need more gruesome pictures of murder in your teenage mind. "Um, Lonnie was found dead last night."

"And they think you did it, don't they?"

Jay's jaw dropped, all his years of being a stone-faced Army ranger and detective flying out the window as you quickly put the pieces together of why you were being talked to by his sergeant and commander. "What? How- Why would you assume that?"

"Dad's not good with turning his Law and Order down when he watches it at night so sometimes when I can't fall asleep, I'll listen to it and I'll hear the interrogation or trial scenes." You shrugged. Then, you turned your attention to Sergeant Voight and Commander Perry. "If you think my brother did it, I can tell you that he didn't because he was home with me all night. I even woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and he was asleep on the couch with his mouth open and he was drooling." You scrunched up your nose in disgust at Jay's sleeping position last night.

"Alright, Sergeant, your unit can investigate this one. But, Halstead, not that I don't believe your sister, but you're still stripped until this gets all sorted out. Go home."

Jay nodded. "C'mon, Y/N. We can go grab lunch or something."

Jay ushered you out of the break room and you grabbed your backpack. "Halstead, what's going on?" Antonio asked, catching you and Jay on your way down the stairs.

"Just, give this case hell for me, Antonio, will you?"

***

"Is it wrong?" you asked Jay when you were driving away from the district. "That I'm glad Lonnie's dead that is?"

Jay sighed. "Listen, I know we shouldn't be glad about someone being dead, but in all honesty, kid, I'm glad he's dead, too."

"Because the world's a safer place?"

"Yeah." And because justice was served for the Corson family, but I'm not gonna talk to my little sister about killing someone for justice...I don't need her to turn into the female version of Hank Voight in twenty years.

"So, were you and Mouse glad when you killed the bad guys over in Afghanistan?"

Oh no, no, no, no, no. I am not about to have this conversation with her. I'm not about to have this conversation with anyone for that matter, much less with my very impressionable, middle-schooler, little sister. "What do you want for lunch? Mcdonalds? Burger King? Wendy's? Pizza Hut?"

"You never answered my question," you told him.

"And you never answered mine. So, what do you want for lunch?"

"Hmmm...I really like the chicken alfredo from Pizza Hut, so can we go there?"

"Pizza Hut it is."

"What are you gonna get? Wait, lemme guess...meat lover's pizza?"

"And, you would be correct."

You arrived at Pizza Hut, which was only half a block away from the Corson's. And, since it was also so close to your school, some high school seniors would come here for lunch...not that you had an open campus at school, but they'd dip out for lunch and then get back unnoticed before their next class. You wondered if you'd be brave enough to do that in high school. You didn't know and you had a few more years until you got to that grade anyway.

"Hey Detective Halstead," a woman greeted Jay.

"Oh, hey Rachelle," Jay said as you both walked up to the counter at Pizza Hut. "How's school going?"

"It's going great actually. And who's this?" she asked, motioning to you.

"This is my little sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is one of my best CIs, Rachelle."

"You're a CI? That's so cool! So you help my brother solve cases? He never tells me about anything he does, so what do you help him with?"

Jay placed a hand on your shoulder. "That's confidential information, kiddo. And don't go blabbing about her being a CI either, because she could get in trouble."

"Got it. She's just someone I know from coming here so much. I have no idea what you're talking about, Jay."

Jay laughed. "Alright, what can I get started for you two?" Rachelle asked.

"Actually, since you're here, I have a quick question for you."

"Okay, let's go around back," she replied, thinking he was going to ask her if she knew anything that might help them with a case.

"No, it's nothing like that. I was just wondering if you'd watch Y/N for a bit while I go run a quick errand? It'd be for twenty, thirty minutes tops."

She looked around the restaurant, it was practically empty. "Yeah, no problem. I can keep an eye on her."

"Awesome thanks. And, uh, she'll have the chicken alfredo and I'll have the meat lover's pizza."

Rachelle rang it up and then told Jay the total. He pulled out his wallet and paid for their food, not without placing a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar. "You didn't have to do that," Rachelle said.

"You're watching Trouble here for a bit, so yeah, I do."

"I am not trouble!" you protested. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll be back soon."

"But--"

"Hey, Y/N. You want a chocolate chip cookie? I think they just came out of the oven." You frantically nodded your head up and down. "Well, c'mon back here and I'll grab it for you."

She opened the piece of the counter that flipped up and you walked through. Then, she motioned for Jay to leave before you pressed him for more answers on where he was going.

***

"To be honest, I don't feel any sympathy," Danny Corson told Jay as he sat at the kitchen table next to his wife with Jay across from him. "Do the police have any idea who did it?"

Jay had come to the Corson household to tell them the news that Lonnie Rodiger was dead...and to ask Danny some questions that would not go on record.

"We're still trying to piece that together." Jay turned to the red-haired woman. "Gail, do you have ay milk for this?" he asked, holding out his coffee cup."

"Oh, yeah. Let me get it for you," Gail answered.

"Thank you," Jay said to Gail's retreating back as she left the table. Jay turned back to Danny. "They suspended me. They think I did it. So, if you did something, Danny, I need you to tell me now so that we can figure this out together."

"Jay, I have been fantasizing about it for years, but I didn't do it. After all you've done for this family though, if you need me to confess, then I will."

"No, no you will not. I will not let you, or me for that matter, go down for something neither of us did."

"So, you have no idea who did it?"

"At the moment, no."

Jay's phone rang and he held up a finger to tell Danny he'd just be a second. But, then he looked at who was calling him and he practically froze.

"Jay, you okay?" Danny asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He accepted the call and placed his phone to his ear. "Rachelle? What's going on? Is Y/N okay?"

"Physically she's fine," she answered. "But, there's this guy yelling at her asking where you are and--"

"Tell me where he is! Your brother! My son is dead because of him!" Jay heard through the phone.

Phil Rodiger.

Jay drew in a breath. "I'm on my way."

He hung up and then turned to Danny and Gail. "I gotta go, I'm sorry. If I find out anything, you'll be the first to know." And then he ran out the door and ran as fast as he ever has to the Pizza Hut half a block away.

***

"He didn't do it!" you yelled. "He was home with me all night!"

"Yeah right! He probably told you to say that!"

"Y/N! Don't say another word!" Jay sprinted over to the booth where you were sitting, your pasta halfway eaten.

"You! You killed him!"

"Phil, we're in a public place. The cops can get called for a disturbance." Jay flicked his eyes to Rachelle and she nodded, picking up her phone.

"Fine! Then let them call the cops! I'll tell them that you killed him! You killed my son!"

He took a step closer to the side of the booth that you were sitting in and Jay quickly placed himself between you and Lonnie Rodiger's father. "You know what? I may have not killed him, but whoever did, did everyone in this world a real favor! Killing a pedophile and a murderer? I'd like to give the guy who killed your sick-ass bastard of a son a medal when they find him!"

"Jay!" you yelled, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it so that he would turn his attention back to you.

"Y/N, this is grown-up stuff. Butt out!" He turned back to Phil. "Lonnie brought this on himself and you know it!"

You saw a few people from the Intelligence Unit walking up to the building out of the corner of your eye. "Jay, shut the hell up!"

"You killed him!"

"For the last time, I didn't kill your sorry excuse for a son!"

"Police! Break it up!"

Jay was yanked away from you by none other than Antonio Dawson. Adam and Voight had each grabbed one of Phil's shoulders to keep him at bay. Erin knelt in front of you.

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"What the hell, Halstead?" Antonio yelled.

"Wre're taking you in," Voight told Phil Rodiger.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, we just have some questions about last night we want to ask you is all. Why? Should you be under arrest?"

"No, but he should! I know you did it--"

"We'll talk to him," Voight said. "Don't you worry about that." He turned to Antonio. "You and Lindsay got this, bro?"

"Yeah, we got this," Antonio answered.

Voight nodded and then he and Ruzek escorted Phil Rodiger out of the building.

Antonio waited until Voight's car was safely out of the parking lot, before trying to lead Jay out of the building.

"Dude, I don't need a police escort. I can drive my car back home just fine," Jay protested.

"Jay, just come on. Or do I need to put you in cuffs?" He pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket and allowed them to dangle off his pointer finger.

"Tony, not here," Erin warned. "Not with Y/N watching."

You gasped. They weren't going to arrest Jay, were they? No, they wouldn't. They couldn't.

"Let's just go out to the car," Antonio said.

Once you were all in the car, Antonio driving, Erin in the passenger seat, and you and Jay in the back, did Jay finally address the elephant in the room...or, well, the elephant in the car. "Just so we're clear, I didn't kill Lonnie Rodiger. If I was gonna kill him, I would've done it the night he raped and murdered an eleven-year-old Ben Corson! I was this close, too!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You had assumed he had been raped, hell you had heard Jay talk about it with Gail and Danny, once with your dad, when they thought you were too far out of earshot to hear or thought that you were asleep. But, hearing Jay say it out loud, right in front of you, made it more real than hearing it when you weren't supposed to. And, hearing Jay say that had thoughts about killing Lonnie before...you didn't know how to feel about that. You had wanted him dead, just like Jay had (and how the Corson's probably did as well) but you never thought Jay would actually admit to wanting to kill him, much less say that he had been close to doing it.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm sorry I never told you about that," Jay said, his voice much quieter now. "I just, I didn't know how to tell you and you were ten, so you shouldn't have even known what rape was and I didn't want to explain it to you under those circumstances--"

"I knew," you told him.

"What?" he gasped as he furrowed his eyebrows. "How?"

"I heard you talking to the Corson's once when you thought I couldn't hear you and once when you were talking to Dad when you both thought that I was asleep."

"Well, either way, I'm sorry you had to hear it from me like this. And, I'm sorry he had to go through that."

"Me too," you whispered.

Erin leaned back and handed Jay a file folder. He raised an eyebrow.

"Lonnie Rodiger's homicide file," Antonio told him. "If anyone asks, no ones knows how you got that."

"That goes for you, too, Y/N. As far as you're concerned, you don't know what a homicide file is."

"What's homicide?" you joked. "I don't even know what that is."

"Works for me," Erin said as Jay flipped open the file.

***

"What'd he say? Jay asked, cornering Antonio in the locker room.

"Not here," Antonio told him and led him to the basement.

Once the two detectives were safely in the basement, Antonio let Jay in on the statement that Phil Rodiger had just given the Intelligence Unit about Lonnie Rodiger's murder.

"Can I run something by you?" Jay asked.

"Shoot."

"So, Phil Rodiger gives his statement, and he says...that his son never came home that night," Jay took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't going to get in trouble for saying this. "But I know he did. I may have not gone straight to my apartment after I got takeout for me and Y/N before we watched the Hawks game together."

"I'll talk to Voight. But, I think Y/N needs some help with homework, so go be the good big brother and do that." Antonio clapped Jay on the back and then started up the stairs.

***

"We're good to go," Antonio told him. "But, we got a problem."

"Which is?" Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They kicked him."

"The hell do you mean they kicked him?"

"I mean, they don't think he did it. But, Jin's getting a location on him." Antonio's phone binged. "And here is that location. Erin, you riding with me? Halstead will follow. I got the photos."

Erin picked up her coat. "Ruzek, watch the kid, okay?"

"You got it," he answered, walking over to the break room.

"Ruz, please do not corrupt my sister."

"I'm hurt Jay, really. That hurt, man," he joked.

The three detectives left the district and made their way to a bar where Phil Rodiger was sitting and drinking alone. The three had agreed that only Jay should go in so that he wouldn't get spooked and try to run off.

Jay entered the bar and took a seat next to Phil. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but started Jay on his reasoning anyway. "In the statement you gave the detectives, you said that you didn't see Lonnie after 10:00 pm, that he went for a drive and he never came back." Jay placed a photo on the bar in front of Phil. "I was following Lonnie that night, and not long after these pictures were taken, I watched him walk into your house. Lonnie got tired of hunting, so he went home. And according to the time of death, he was killed an hour after I took this photo." Phil Rodiger just stared at the photo as Jay turned his attention away from it and onto Phil. "Your son wasn't killed in the park, was he?"

Phil stood up and brought his face close to Jay's. "You got no idea what you're talking about."

Then, he started to walk away, but Jay got up and followed him. Jay was pretty sure his cop instincts were right once again. "Phil, where you going?" Jay paused and looked at him. Phil was looking at the floor and avoiding eye contact the way only a guilty man would. "You killed him."

"He was sick."

Yeah, we all knew that. Took you long enough, Jay thought to himself.

Then, Erin and Antonio rushed in and put Phil in cuffs.

***

Half an hour later, Jay was standing in front of the one-way window with Voight, watching Erin do her thing in the interrogation room.

"I found some pictures on his computer," Phil told Erin. "Boys, same age as the Corson kid. Then I- I confronted him."

"How did you kill Lonnie?" Erin asked, straight to the point. The faster this got straightened out, the faster Jay'd get his badge and gun back.

"We fought. I picked up a belt, and I just- I just kept choking him." Phil tried to keep the tears back, but he couldn't. What kind of father would kill their own son? But then again, most fathers didn't have sons who were monsters.

"And then you dropped his body in the park?"

"Yes."

Jay walked out of the interrogation room the minute he heard those words. He knew Voight had heard the same things he had. So, when Voight motioned for Jay to step into his office, this time, Jay didn't hesitate.

Voight pulled open a drawer and grabbed Jay's badge and gun. "Good to have you back."

"Thanks, Sarge."

"Now, go and get your sister out of here. I think she's bored out of her mind."

Jay chuckled and clipped his badge onto his jeans and holstered his gun. "His dad did it?" you asked, exiting the break room.

"How did you know that?"

"Ruzek told me!"

"Dude! I told you not to corrupt her!"

"Technically, I didn't corrupt her. I told her the truth," he defended.

"Fine, whatever. Mind giving us a ride so we can go get my car back from Pizza Hut?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"I call shotgun!" you yelled and started to race down the stairs.

"No fair!" Jay exclaimed as he chased after you.

***

You and Jay were crouched in front of Ben's grave, the flowers you had planted four days ago brightening the dismal place up a bit. "They got him, Ben, they got him," you explained. "Jay almost got in trouble for it, but it turns out that Lonnie's dad did it." You paused as if waiting for Ben's reaction. You knew he would be saying something along the lines of no way where he was. "I know, no way, right?"

"You okay?" Jay asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

You had stopped talking after you asked that rhetorical question. You had no idea what to say now. Ben was still gone.

"I guess it doesn't feel as good as I thought it would," you said, turning your attention to Jay. "It's as if I thought that finding who did this would bring Ben back. I feel relief, but that's it."

"Hey, no matter what you're feeling, it's okay. The way this went down today and the past few days don't matter. We got justice for Ben and that's all that matters. You got justice for Ben. You were the one who saw Lonnie with that rope and duct tape and told me. You were the reason this entire case got off the ground."

"Really?"

"Really," Jay confirmed.

"Well, at least it's justice."

"At least it's justice," Jay echoed.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing feedback on the first installment of this series I posted a few days ago! Your comments really got me motivated to write this one! But, I have some bad news, which is that since I have exams in a week and a half, I won't be posting for at least two weeks, probably closer to two and a half.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and please vote and comment! Reading your comments really gets me motivated to write...even though the next chapter will have to wait a while since I have exams.

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07

#jay halstead #will halstead #chicago pd #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead sister #halstead sister imagine #Halstead brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #imagine

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datawyrms · 3 years

Text

Happy DannyMay everyone! i say while dropping this. For day one, Memories. sorta kinda sequel to this Half a Decade Late

He said he’d never hate them. Back when he thought it would only be a matter of time until he found a weakness, a flaw and squirmed free. He always had before. He didn’t like being captured, and he certainly didn’t like getting shoved into cages, but it was always temporary. A terrifying inconvenience. Something he’d shrug off eventually and forget. Lately he was starting to realize he’d forget that he ever considered thinking charitably. Just like all the other things he couldn’t quite remember.

They took everything. His freedom, his limbs, his skin, his voice. So many things he had the misfortune of learning he could recover from with enough time. Really broke the idea that anything about you was special. Did it matter that they ripped him open when the green slime he was made of would eventually cover the hole without even a sign of the pain it caused him? He just stopped caring. Ghosts didn’t feel pain. Maybe if he believed that enough, he wouldn’t need to feel it. Hurt was just a matter of perspective.

He was changing, apparently. The spectral copies of his human organs they stole over and over again stopped being perfect copies. Sloppy. Apparently his body was forgetting what the real ones were like. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been human anyway. That was fine. It was the only real way he could bother them now, being ‘less useful’. Obviously he didn’t need them that badly. He envied some of his fellow prisoners. They were just green inside. Nothing the vultures wanted, nothing for them to mutter and prod at while he struggled uselessly.

He didn’t really know why he still bothered to do that. It never worked. Some impulse. Just better than keeping still. He never really was a human, was he? Humans didn’t treat other humans like this. So he wasn’t one. So why did he ever think he was?

Tie was weird. Maybe having a soul made you act all funny. He’d been tempted to change her name, to no-mask or just face, but the words didn’t feel right, sort of caught on his tongue. Even when he didn’t have one sometimes! Tie just slid off easily. Like he’d said it a lot, or something like it.

So the newbie remained Tie. And Tie was weird. A good kind of weird? She didn’t just tell him to shut up, anyway. Most of them were boring like that. Though not getting shocked into unconsciousness did make the days tend to drag a bit more. She did make his head hurt sometimes, with all the weird reactions Tie made. It always passed though.

He kept playing with the lights up there so they would flicker and crackle, just to check if it was a Tie day. Sure, that got a good amount of shocks when it wasn’t Tie, but they were always grumpy after he’d lost a limb or two. It was almost amusing again. That was the word. Maybe?

“You don’t remember Amity at all?”

Frustration and anger that was directed at him, but also not. Tie was super strange like that. “Why would I?” His response just made her eyes narrow more, but she didn’t do anything to take it out on him. It was hilarious.

“That’s where you’re from.”

“News to me.” Might be a lie, might not. Gun grunts said lots of weird stuff. He shifted position, watching her while upside down didn’t make it easier to tell if humans were lying or not, but did make her scowling funnier. “That’s where you’re from then? Or that other name you keep using.”

“You can’t actually be him. Fuck.” She was rubbing at her forehead, looking away at nothing. “You remember ghost hunters but not Amity Park?”

“Hey! Names are hard, Tie. Isn’t like you know the name of every town you’ve ever been in.”

“No, but I remember the one I lived in most of my life!”

“Good for you! I’d clap but I’m kinda under armed for the task.” Under armed. He snickered as she only rolled her eyes at his joke, but it only made him think of another one. “Isn’t like a ghost lives anywhere.”

“You’re in here for hell knows how long and you can’t get better jokes?!”

Tie’s irritation just made it funnier. “These are gold! Way better than the stuff you guys laugh at.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know.” The humour of the moment passed as he got back up, wondering if he should give the old ice trick another go. The noises were fun. “Like how the ghost won’t eat, but ghosts don’t breathe either. So the ghost can’t do much to stop ya.” As if Tie didn’t know. She still made the weird pinched expressions though. Why bother? It didn’t really matter if she actually had a soul still. Those ones just quit and then there’d be a new newbie. “Lots of you think that’s reaaaaal funny.” He stuck out his tongue, gagging. “Gross gun grunts.”

“That’s not funny either.”

“Try breaking your funny bone a few times. That’ll fix it. Or was that computers?” He frowned, rubbing his fingers against his chin. Computers. What was it about computers again? Re-re-something? Like with bones when you...did something…

“Phantom!”

That jerked him out of his considerations. “Still not him!” Now that he checked, Tie looked like she’d been trying to get his attention for awhile again. That, or she’d figured out how to teleport closer to his cage. Both were very possible. Probably.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you.”

“You were talking?”

“For someone who says he isn’t Phantom, it sure gets your attention fast.”

He shrugged. What did Tie expect? So what if he noticed it? It didn’t mean anything to him, personally. It was like comp-whatevers. “You could say the coats were coming and I’d do the same thing.”

“Doubt it. You remember Jack and Maddie maybe?” Tie hesitated, as if saying something to him actually mattered. “Your parents?”

“I’m a ghost. And possibly a starfish. Since I do the whole regenerating thing.” He’s pretty sure it’s starfish that do that. “I don’t think they’re big on families.” He thought that was pretty amusing, having like. Little voiceless things that cling to rocks as parents. Actually had a bit in common if you thought of his cage as a rock? Tie didn’t agree, based on how he was biting at her lip and clenching her fists. Still no shooting. Still super weird.

“Be a mercy killing at this point…” Tie wasn’t actually speaking to him, but it was interesting. Killing what? One of the other ghosts maybe. “Sam, Tucker? Any of them ring a bell?”

He certainly didn’t have a bell in here. “Sam...and Tucker are names?” He guessed, shuddering a little. Weird names. Made the gooey mess of ectoplasm he was made of wriggle when he said it. Like when he was struggling to digest something, uncomfortable and heavy and just making him want to move when he couldn’t. Though he could this time. Zipping up to the top of his cage helped shake the feeling off, at least. He wasn’t saying those again, no thank you. “You have weird tricks, Tie”

“They’re just names. I didn’t do anything to make you fly up there. I half thought you couldn’t do that anymore.”

Tie did have a bit of a point. When was the last time he’d flown up here? “Think I forgot I could?” He didn’t really move much in general. Not like he had anywhere to go, his cage didn’t really change.

She just looked tired. “This isn’t fixable.”

He wasn’t really paying attention, poking at the edges of his cage with his feet was pretty entertaining. It tingled a bit when he got pushed back, but flipping over in the air was easy. Why didn’t he float more? “Gun grunts don’t fix things, so Idonno why you care.”

Tie wasn’t paying much attention to him either, muttering to herself. “Manson would kill me for doing it. No way she’d believe you’re like this. Let alone the Fentons...”

Well, that was boring. He busied himself with counting how many seconds it took for the shock to stop coursing through him when he touched the walls. Though it was a bit tricky to keep track between tries.

“Skulker? Ember? You at least remember the ghosts, don’t you?”

“Are you just making names up now Tie?” They just sounded silly. The thought of someone named ‘Skulker’...who was also very tiny. Now that’d be funny. Kinda liked that idea actually.

“Probably don’t even remember the guy who put a million on your head…”

“A million whats? Questions? That’s more a you thing, Tie.”

“No, Vlad. The mayor?”

“The what?” Things weren’t funny anymore. He wasn’t cool and passive. That word, there’d been others but he didn’t even care what they’d been. The V had been enough to set his core to a furious pulsating heat of fury. His ice claws clung to the wall even as the buzzing in his skull grew stronger as the field tried to shove him back. “WHERE” He snared, not caring how his throat burned from the partial wail trying to scrabble out of his throat. Tie didn’t matter, nothing mattered and he actually missed his arm since not having it made it harder to keep his grip and snarl at the one backing away from his prison. “WHERE IS HE?” Oh he’d order anyone, and they’d listen or he’d shred them as soon as he got through- but his claws were cracking- green and red staining and corrupting the fine edge he’d honed so often. Why did he care? He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, he just had to act and now, just in case. The chance might slip away and he wouldn’t, they’d pay they’d pay, they’d PAY.

“Danny! Stop hurting yourself, he’s not here!” Tie was blathering, but at least backed away when he shrieked at her. Stupid Tie. Didn’t know anything. “Hell. You don’t even know why you’re mad, do you.”

He kept slamming the ice back in place, even as his arm weakened and started oozing. He didn’t need his legs, he didn’t need arms, he didn’t need anything. Just OUT. NOW. He snarled and snapped at the metal that grabbed his back and slammed him hard to the ground of his cage. It ignored him and the awful warmth that had consumed everything. He never won against it but now he had to keep trying because-because the anger? Because of something. The metal easily ignored the green surging pulses of electricity, just kept pressing down on him until he wasn’t solid enough to struggle, not strong enough to scream at it. The awful stabbing feeling in his core wanted him to act, but he couldn’t even defiantly flick his tail as he grew colder and slipped out of consciousness.

Everything hurt and it wasn’t even Friday. At least. He didn’t think it was? He’d have to ask Tie about it...if Tie showed up again. Something about her gave him a stab of unease. Might have something to do with all the green stains in here. Didn’t remember getting shot though. Strange. Must have done something. Maybe. Didn’t really matter.

#Danny Phantom #Dannymay2021 #dannymay #valerie gray #many terrible implications #i couldn't help it i had more pondering #vals no good day mark 2 #now to endlessly not decide if i should make a compilation on ao3 #or just stick things to the ends of the phic phight stuff i'm doing

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marlasomething · 2 years

Text

Jonmartin Week 2022 Day 3: For My Roomate Is...

Hello there!

As said in previous one-shots of this week, I cannot see a "challenge" and let it go so...Jonmartin week 2022 here we are! The idea is "forcing myself" to write piece of under 1K (NOT THIS TIME, HAHA SORRY) in different universes, let's see how it goes.

This was written for the prompt of day 3: Roomates/Road Trips and it is set in the AU in which I set one montly story.

Also: I will try to end all one-shots with the line of the finale "One way or another. Together". Here there is a teeny tiny bit extra afterwards, but I did it!

As usual, do please forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

AO3 Edition!

Rest of the AU!

Whole week Masterlist!

If there was one thing for which Jon had unlimited capacity, it was for scoffing.

He couldn’t for dear life understand why his parents had insisted he had to live in the residential part of college, instead of just…buy him a small flat in Oxford, or rent it; not that money was exactly a problem.

“You have to get used to other people, as much as they are most times rather unpleasant, they are a necessary …evil” his father had said, while Gerry gave him a sympathetic smile.

Yes, of course he would, because he totally got it, not as if he had moved within six months to the smallest apartment in history of humankind with his boyfriend, all payed by the bloody Fairchild family.

The worst part? He couldn’t actually share a room with Danny, the only person he knew that was also studying at Oxford because a), he was moving in with Nikola (who he couldn’t stand for dear life) and b), it was to his grandmother’s house and it would have been…just too bizarre and uncomfortable.

So, here he was, about to meet the person with whom he was likely to share a room for, he scoffed again, four years.

“You have to be kidding me” he muttered behind his breath. He knew the person in front of him, if only by word of mouth. “You are two years older than me” he said, accusatory.

This took his new roommate by surprised as he…blushed? What on Earth?!

“Uh, yeah, I guess. After I got adopted I re-did that school year (thought times) and then I took a gap year to make up my mind properly…” he stared at him from behind his, kind of nice looking, glasses. “You are the Magnus’ younger kid, right? Jon? I’m Martin” he tended a hand to him, which he didn’t pick.

He didn’t shake hands with anyone related to The Web; he had principles.

Kind of.

“Right, Cane” he removed uncomfortable his light curly hair at the once again accusatory tone.

“Well, I haven’t used it in a while, and my biological parents were… something else, but if you prefer Blackwood I guess I could work with that, since we are going to live together. Wouldn’t want to make things harder.”

“I’m not going to stand, nor trust, you more if I call you by birth name, spider.”

“Oh, ok, fine. Paranoid much, I guess it tracks…”

“I am not controlled by The Eye.”

“I’ve never said…”

“I know what I heard” after this outburst, he stormed to the bathroom.

These were going to be a very long four years (because he was far too proud to ask for a change of room; he’d rather die).

“I like you grey highlights!” he heard Martin said, in a calming manner, from outside.

“They are natural!” he replied, while hugging his own legs.

Definitively, very long years.

Had four years really passed already?

Jon climbed from behind the sofa, clinging to Martin’s neck, who scoffed in a fashion far too similar to the one the other young man had been cultivating since a very tender age.

“I have a final test tomorrow, and you know I am awful at Pharmacology…”

“You are dreadful at all memorising-based-exams subjects, just as you are great at passing them thanks to your other resources.”

“Is it that weird that I want to pass my last batch of tests in a more fair way?”

“As much as we had been sleeping in the same room for almost three years…yeah, it is. That things are not contagious, being a bookwormis my thing; and you had always thought exams were just badly made.”

“BECAUSE THEY ARE! I am almost certain The Spiral had something to with it, you could ask Michael, since he has that weird thing going on with your sister and your best friend’s brother” Jon rolled his eyes.

“Please, don’t talk about that. See, my dad (remember? Actual unapologetic murderer?) was traumatised when he first jumped into Mike and Gerry; but what I saw while believing Sasha was being murdered…just to find out if she was okay…I just hope it was a one-time thing.”

Martin, being merciful, dropped the topic and pointed at a place next to him in the couch they had totally paid for, big enough even if Jon had been bigger than Martin.

The Eye-aligned soon-to-be university graduate jumped there on the spot, and rested his head in Martin’s should, just making sure before not a single spider was to be seen.

“Did I really hate you?”

“Oh, you did. You even cooperated with Nikola just to make my first exams round a living hell.”

“Well, they had to be useful for something.”

“Terrorising your future husband?” if Jon’s skin had been paler, right now he would have been red as a danger signal.

“We haven’t…yet…”

“Oh my God, you are so adorable. No, for now, we’ll see how a trip together to Scotland goes; are you sure this Daisy person is okay with us being there? Don’t I have to make sure…?” Jon shrugged.

“Na’. She knows Basira and I are friends, and my father helped her to get a job after she left the Police Force, so she is kind of in debt. Also, she likes me, for some reason; because she hates my parents.”

“Wonder why” Martin mocked and, as much as Jon cared and loved Peter and Elias, he had to admit his partner had a point; they weren’t exactly pleasant people.

They kept talking about everything and nothing for a little while longer; just to eventually drop into a comfortable silence in which Jon started to nod off as Martin got back to his studies.

“Anyways…” half-asleep Jon muttered. “…one day…I am totally marrying you. Even if Eye and Web are supposed to hate each other and we have much more of an Orsinio-Viola dynamic rather than a Romeo-Juliet one…one way or another…”

“Together” Martin finished, as he covered with a blanket a now totally out-of-the-game Jon.

He was right.

They had rocked their Romeo + Juliet cosplay last Halloween, though.

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five-rivers · 4 years

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Mask

Danny slouched against the back wall of the ballroom, mask dangling from his fingers. He didn't want to be here. If his parents weren't out there having the time of their lives, he wouldn't be here, but someone had to keep an eye on them and keep them from getting sucked into whatever scheme Vlad had this time.

He sighed, tracking the bulk of his father across the dance floor. His mother was harder to see, but she was never far behind.

A masquerade ball. Really. Ancients, Vlad was so pretentious.

(Internally, Danny thought that a masquerade ball could be cool... except, well. Vlad.)

His mother briefly emerged from the crowd, caught his eye, and mimed putting on his mask. Apparently she was watching him, too. With a grumble, he put the mask back on. Vlad had given it to him, and although he couldn't see or feel anything wrong with it, he still felt that it was suspect.

"Did your parents make you come, too?"

Danny glanced over. A girl was standing a few feet away. Her dress was red and puffy, and her mask was golden. Her hair was done up in complicated braids. She was, perhaps, one or two years younger than he was, though it was hard to tell with the mask. She was certainly shorter than him.

The silhouette of her dress crumpled as she also slumped against the wall. "You'd think that a masked ball would be, you know, cool, but it's just a bunch of old people jumping around and trying to talk business with the 'great Vlad Masters.'"

"Ouch," said Danny. "At least my parents aren't trying to do that, I guess."

"Oh, yeah? What are they doing, then?" asked the girl.

"I honestly have no idea," said Danny, watching his parents gyrate across the floor again. "Dancing? You could call it dancing." He shrugged.

"Ah," said the girl. "My name's Ellie, by the way."

"Danny," said Danny. "Nice to meet you."

"Same. So, what do your parents do?"

"They're scientists," said Danny, not wanting to get into the whole 'ghost hunting' thing. This wasn't Amity Park. Most people didn't believe in ghosts.

Ellie bobbed her head. "Cool, cool. I kinda want to be a scientist. Like, finding out new things, it just sounds really awesome?"

"Yeah, it can be fun sometimes," said Danny. "I don't understand most of it, though." He rolled his shoulders. Actually, he understood a lot more of his parents' work than he let on, in some specific areas more than them, even. Admitting that wasn't wise, however. "What field are you interested."

"Astrophysics, definitely," said Ellie, firmly. "Space is the coolest thing."

Danny grinned. "Oh, yeah. There's just so much. I mean, have you ever looked at the Hubble Deep Fields?"

Two teens talking together and having a good time evidently had a magnetic property. Three other high school kids had come to join them, all boys.

One boy was very tall and broad. During their introduction, Danny reflected that if he was on Casper's football team, Dash wouldn't be the star player anymore. Unlike Dash, however, Dustin was quiet, barely speaking at all and always deferring to the others.

The second boy introduced himself as Damien, and he was also tall, but thin and skeletal, like a strong breeze would blow him away. He seemed to realize this, because he had a pair of small enamel pins on the lapel of his suit: a skeleton and a scarecrow.

The last, Dmitri, a redhead, was about the same size as Danny. He reminded Danny of Jazz, for some reason (clearly, her psychology-camp-induced absence was driving him a little crazy). And, less pleasantly, of Wes. He had... a lot of questions. Not quite to the point of being annoying, but still a lot. There was also something wrong with his mask. It was hard to tell, but it looked almost as if one eye of it had been filled in. Danny didn't want to mention it, and ruin the atmosphere, though.

There was an atmosphere. Shockingly enough, these kids liked him, and they were much cooler than Danny would have expected of kids who's parents had been invited by Vlad. Which, yeah, was maybe a weird prejudice on his part. His parents had been invited by Vlad, after all.

Danny liked them back.

"... and the names of the dark matter candidates, whoever thought them up was a genius," said Dmitri, waving his hands.

"Well, yeah," said Danny, grinning, "if they were allowed to pick the names, they probably were the ones to come up with the whole idea for it in the first place. But I think MACHOs might be more likely than WIMPs. You've heard about the exoplanets they found last year?" He let his eyes briefly lose focus. "I bet there are even more of them, that we just can't see yet."

"Yeah, but there have been a lot of tests for MACHOs," said Damien. "You'd think we'd have seen a least a couple. And what about dark energy?"

"I don't think those two are actually related," said Ellie.

"Sure they are. They both have the word dark in them."

"Yeah, but I don't think they actually have anything to do with each other," said Ellie.

"They just have similar names," said Dustin.

"We can look it up, later," said Dmitri.

"Speaking of related," said Danny, "how are you guys related?"

There was a pause. "How'd you know?" asked Ellie. "Like, I could understand if you could see our faces, but..."

Danny shrugged. "I don't know. It just... Felt that way?

"We're cousins," said Damien, leaning forward. His body language spoke of nerves.

Danny couldn't imagine why Damien would be nervous about that, but he probably had his reasons. Family drama, maybe. It wasn't Danny's place to ask, he was a stranger.

Even if he was rather wishing he wasn't. How often did he meet people who shared so many of his interests? Never.

(Well, they were mostly just talking about the one interest, space, but still. And Dustin had mentioned liking Dumpty Humpty.)

"That's cool," he said. He would have liked to have helped. Maybe he still could, somehow? He and his parents were going to be here for a few days.

If he focused, there was an aura of something being not quite right with the cousins. Nothing he could put his finger on, and nothing to do with them as people, but... something.

"Hey," said Ellie, "what do you say we raid the snack table? It can't all be super fancy stuff we can't name, can it? I mean, at least there's punch."

Danny followed Ellie's gaze to the refreshments table. When he'd been over there before, everything had been covered, and he hadn't felt like fighting his way back across the floor and potentially losing sight of his parents. He glanced at them now. They looked like they were having fun.

He lightly bit at his lower lip. He knew Vlad had to be up to something. Otherwise, why bother with all of this?

But... new friends... He liked friends, and Vlad was always up to something. Danny deserved to have a little fun now and again, even so.

"Sure," he said. "We can ruin our dinner."

Ellie snickered. "That's the spirit!" she said, patting Danny on the back and slipping past him.

He smirked at the pun, even if it was unintentional.

"Yeah, better do it now, before there's a punchline," said Dmitri. "Wouldn't want people to think we're in a joke."

Danny choked a little, trying to swallow a laugh.

"That was terrible. You're terrible," said Damien.

"Hey, our new friend seems to like it," said Ellie.

Danny's core did a little bounce when she said friend. He really did want to be friends. "What can I say," he said, shrugging. "Better a joke, than a fist?"

Dmitri smiled broadly. Damien groaned, arcing his long body back dramatically.

There wasn't a line for the punch, or even very many people around the snack table at all. What few people had been there moved off, glaring, when the five children descended on the table. He caught Ellie sticking her tongue out at a woman who was giving them a particularly dirty look.

They gathered cups of punch and piled tiny plates high with pastries before retreating to a nearby corner to resume their conversation.

Danny was having a harder time following it this time, though. He felt tired. Drained. A little overheated. He wasn't used to wearing this suit. He went back to refill his punch a few times.

Words started to blur together. The inside of his head felt staticky. But he also... really content... New friends... His core felt strange...

"Danny?" a hand on his shoulder made him flinch, which made him sway rather dangerously. "Are you okay?"

Danny blinked at Ellie. "I don't feel..." he mumbled. What? What didn't he feel?

"Did someone spike the punch?"

"There's a room back here, you can lie down."

"I'll go get Father, he'll know what to do."

He was gently guided out of the ballroom, most of his weight resting on Dustin. There was a reason he should stay in the ballroom, but he couldn't remember what it was. Was someone missing?

Wait, spike the punch? Was he drunk?

The thought was lost almost instantly. His core, and therefore his mind, was lost in delirium and delight. New friends! But they needed his help, there was something wrong with them. But he could help! So, everything was good, and he loved his new friends very much.

The place they took him to was darker and quieter than before. They laid him down on something soft and squishy, and he giggled, weakly. They were talking. They might have been talking to him, but he couldn't understand aaaaaaaaanything.

He was so happy, helping his new friends.

The light changed as the door to the room opened. Music and other noises from the party briefly grew in volume, and were muffled again as the door swung closed.

"Well, that was faster than expected."

Vlad's voice briefly pulled him back into lucidity, and he struggled to sit up before collapsing again. No, all his energy had to go to his friends. They needed it. No time for Vlad.

Still, he glared up at the older man as he leaned over him. There were two Vlads. Was that because he was seeing double, or because Vlad had split himself?

The question was answered as Vlad picked Danny up. Danny was distressingly limp. He couldn't redirect any energy to his muscles, and thinking was hard. There was a thunk, and one of the walls opened up, revealing a hidden staircase. Vlad carried Danny down, but that was okay, because his new friends came with them, and- Oh!

There was another new friend down here!

Danny's core reached out to his newest new friend.

He came back to himself with only the sensation that something was wrong wrong wrong. He jolted up, only to be stopped by a pressure across his chest and shoulders. He squinted, trying to see. His mask was gone, and the clothing he was in felt different, looser.

"What'd you do with'm?" he demanded.

"They're just in the next room, Daniel," said Vlad. "Calm down. I had no idea you'd get attached to them so quickly. I had a whole program for this week for you to get to know them."

"No," said Danny. He finally managed to get his eyes open. He was in Vlad's lab, lying on something padded. He'd been strapped down, and there were various IVs running into his arms. One of them was a lurid ectoplasmic green.

"No?"

"Won't calm down. What did you do to me?"

"Nothing."

"This isn't nothing." He finally managed to find Vlad with his eyes. The man was sitting almost behind him. It was difficult to bend his eyes to look that way.

"Oh, very well then. I increased the energy levels in your core, allowing you to wake up and us to have this lovely conversation. The rest, my dear boy, was all you. An instinctive reaction on the part of your core, although you, as usual, took it too far."

"What?"

Vlad walked around the tube, to a position where Danny could see him more easily. "This will require some explanation. I realize this situation isn't intuitive, to one such as yourself." Vlad waved a dismissive hand.

Danny scowled, but had the presence of mind to bite his tongue. He needed to know what was going on. He was beginning to suspect that Vlad had drugged him, put something in the food or punch that only affected ghosts and half ghosts, but he had a feeling that wasn't quite right.

"After you and Jasmine blew up my football field, I came to the conclusion that you would never accept me as a father," said Vlad, with the air of someone narrating a tragedy. "I was forced to reconsider my methods and goals. You see, Daniel, all I really wanted was to be loved."

In Danny's personal opinion, that was a load of crap. Vlad, more than anything else, wanted control, he wanted power.

""To be loved," continued Vlad, "and understood." He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "And who could understand me, but a fellow half ghost? So, I decided to make one."

"Wait, wait, hold up," said Danny, beyond horrified. "You made someone a half ghost? You killed someone?"

"What? No, don't be ridiculous, Daniel. I cloned you."

He pointed at something behind and to the left of Danny, and Danny craned his head back to see a tall, vertical tube full of ectoplasm. Inside floated a boy who looked just like Danny in Phantom form. The boy's eyes were closed, and there were tubes and wires connected to his body.

"That's just as bad. Oh my gosh, Vlad, you can't just clone people! Why didn't you clone yourself?"

Vlad's face twisted like he had just bitten into a lemon. "I had attempted to do so, initially, however, my ectoacne and other instabilities in my makeup precluded me from doing so. Cloning you was my only choice."

"We cured your ectoacne," said Danny.

"Yes. But I had already started this project. It did take time to grow your brother into maturity, Daniel. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, David was unstable."

"David?"

"The name given to him by your other siblings. Do keep up, Daniel."

"Other- You made more clones? Why?"

"I had done some research," said Vlad. "Into how ghosts normal reproduce and stabilize children. I discovered that family members, those ghosts with similar ectosignatures and core properties, play a major role in stabilizing and providing energy to newly formed ghosts. My ectosignature was too different from David's, but I thought that if I could just make one stable clone..." Vlad trailed off, the look in his eyes almost haunted. "I tried everything. A mix of your DNA and ectosignature and mine, extra DNA from your sister, your mother, even your father. Nothing worked!" Vlad threw his hands up, angrily. "They are all more stable, but none of them are completely stable!"

It took Vlad several seconds to calm down, during which Danny put a few more puzzle pieces together.

"Ellie and the others, they're all clones?" That hurt, for some reason. Did they like him at all, or were they only being nice to him because Vlad told them to.

"Yes," said Vlad. "Danielle is the most stable." He smoothed down the front of his lab coat.

"So, you need me to stabilize them. That's why you drugged me?"

"I didn't drug you Daniel. Your collapse was a surprising to me as it was to you. Based on my readings, I can only conclude that your core recognized Danielle, Dustin, Damien, and Dmitri as family, registered their instability, and attempted to rectify it by boosting your ectosignature and sending them energy. Unfortunately, the effort overwhelmed you. You are only a child yourself, and..." Vlad trailed off, almost sheepish, "it is my understanding that they process is usually undertaken by multiple adult family members, and with only one child at a time."

"Great," said Danny. "And you didn't plan for that to happen at all."

"I had believed that you would bond with them more slowly," said Vlad. "That your reaction wouldn't be so extreme."

"Well, it was," said Danny. "But they're stable now, right? So, you can let me go." He tugged against the restraints again. He hoped they were stable. He had heard his parents talk about what happened to destabilized ghosts.

"Sadly," said Vlad, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, "that is an incorrect assumption."

There was a long pause.

"I want to make a deal with you, Daniel," said Vlad.

"You- Are you asking me for help?" Not that Danny could refuse. For one, he was tied up, for another...

"I suppose. For my children. They are children, Daniel, and they will die if they aren't stabilized. Painfully. Perhaps not today, but within the month."

Danny's heart clenched, and his core shivered. Even if Ellie and the others had been tricking him, he didn't want them to die. He would do what Vlad asked, if it stabilized his... cousins.

He was going to go with cousins for now. Siblings felt a little too close at the moment, and 'clones' was sort of dehumanizing. They were the ones who had started it, calling each other cousins.

But even if he was going to cooperate with Vlad, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to get as many concessions out of Vlad as possible. True, he wasn't going to get very many, Vlad was holding the cards in this game, but he still might be able to get something.

"What kind of deal?" he asked, cautiously.

"You cooperate with stabilizing the cores of my children," said Vlad, "and I will make sure your little town stays safe and protected. Fail to cooperate, and not only will Amity Park be exposed and helpless against any ridiculous poltergeist that comes through your parents' portal, but you will be unconscious. As demonstrated earlier, you do not need to be awake for your core to be at work."

Danny frowned. Apart from the threat (honestly, Vlad was borderline pathological) that was a pretty good deal. Heck, Danny wasn't even supposed to be back in Amity Park until the end of the week.

It was a good deal... too good.

"Exactly how long do you think it'll take, anyway?" he asked. "To stabilize all of them?"

"I don't know, Daniel, this hasn't ever been done before."

Danny scowled. He hated it when Vlad said his name with that supercilious tone of voice. "Fine. How long does it take with ghosts, Vlad? You said you researched it, didn't you?"

"The time varied based on a number of factors," said Vlad.

"It takes a long time, doesn't it?" asked Danny. "I want a cover story. One that doesn't make me disappearing for Ancients know how long my fault. I want to be able to talk to Sam, Tucker, and Jazz whenever I want. And I want to be able to veto anything too invasive or dangerous."

"You're hardly in a position to make demands."

Danny made a shrugging motion, hoping that Vlad wouldn't call his bluff.

"I can do the first," said Vlad, finally, "but if you want it to hold up, the second is impossible. The last is ridiculous. Cooperation means full cooperation, nothing less."

That was about what he had expected. "If I can't communicate with them, they'll just show up here, guns blazing. You know that."

"I think I can handle three human teenagers."

"Sure, but do you want to have to?"

Vlad frowned. "I will consider the merits of your suggestion," he said. "I'm impressed, actually. I didn't think you had it in you, to bargain with lives on the line." Danny swallowed to keep himself from gagging. "But in the meantime, do you agree to cooperate, or no?" He drummed his fingers on something Danny couldn't see.

Between Danny's Obsession, and what were apparently ghostly family bonding instincts, there really wasn't any way for him to say no. "Yes, fine, whatever. I'll cooperate. You can let me out of these things, now." He pulled at the restraints again.

"Oh, no," said Vlad, smiling, then moving out of Danny's line of sight. "Those are for your own protection. You see, your core isn't really mature enough to cope with sustaining five other cores, so we are going to have to significantly supplement your ectoenergy levels."

There was a small click, and the table Danny was on started moving backwards. After a few inches, it angled up, until it was vertical. Danny discovered that there were little platforms under his bare feet, and other supports to keep him upright in his new position. Directly to his left, floated the clone, David, in the glass tube. Danny's core seemed to strain in that direction. His eyelids fluttered.

Vlad walked back over and pulled something with two tubes attached to it from the space over Danny's head. "Open up," he said.

"Why?" asked Danny.

"This is a breathing mask," said Vlad. "It will supply you with oxygen and atomized ectoplasm at three times the levels generally available in the Ghost Zone. But this part," he tapped part of the mask that was fitted with something like a bite guard, "needs to go inside your mouth."

After a moment of hesitation, Danny opened his mouth, and Vlad inserted the breathing mask. Almost at once, Danny could tell the difference. The air coming through was just so much richer.

Vlad pressed the cup of the mask over Danny's mouth and nose and sealed the edges with tape.

"Now," Vlad said, as he began pulling other things from the ceiling and attaching them to Danny, "in a few minutes, I'm going to start giving you instructions. I want you to follow them. Cooperate, do you understand? The first thing I want to do is stabilize David enough that he is no longer dependent on the containment chamber to survive."

Danny was getting a bad feeling. Many of the wires Vlad was attaching to him mirrored wires attached to David. Vlad attached a few more wires, and inserted several needles. Danny tried to hiss at those, but the mask acted as an effective gag. Finally, Vlad inserted two small plugs into Danny's ears and stepped back, half smiling.

As Danny had almost expected, a curved glass barrier sprang from behind him and encircled him, trapping him in a chamber much like the one David occupied. Ectoplasm began to bubble up from below, from a source Danny couldn't see.

"You will be submerged shortly." Vlad's voice rang clear in the earbuds. "This will allow you to intake ectoplasm through your skin. You will also be in the same environment as David."

The ectoplasm hit the soles of Danny's feet, and he flinched. It was rising rapidly.

"Do try not to panic," said Vlad. "Now, I want you to focus on David."

It was at Danny's knees, now. He took a deep breath, reassuring himself that the mask was in place. He wasn't going to drown. He looked over at David. What did it even mean, to focus on him? Danny had no idea what he was like, not really. Like him, he guessed, but not?

"With your ghost sense, Daniel," said Vlad. "Not your eyes."

Danny scowled at him, trying to distract himself from the fact that the ectoplasm was up to his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to do... that. It wasn't something he normally did and had no idea how to go about it but-

Ah. Oh, there it was. There he was, Danny's new friend. That was easier than expected. Danny's core began to purr, some of the euphoria from earlier in the night returning.

The ectoplasm closed over his head.

"Good," said Vlad, his voice slightly warped. "It appears that you have connected. Now, I am going to stimulate and amplify that connection. I want you to stay focused."

Of course Danny would stay focused. He was helping his friend, wasn't he? He always stayed focused when it came to that.

Several of the places Vlad had attached wires began to tingle. His core jumped and he twitched. Everything briefly took on a very severe cast.

It was very hard to think, after that.

Vlad smiled at his readouts. Securing Daniel's cooperation beforehand had been worthwhile. Had he been struggling, it would have been difficult to establish the connection to this extent. David's energy and stability levels were increasing slowly but steadily. Despite the measure he was taking, Daniel's were dropping. Some of the data concerning his human half was less than ideal. That would be troublesome to deal with later on.

He took a moment to check in on his duplicate upstairs. The party was going well. Jack and Maddie hadn't noticed Daniel's absence yet. With luck, they wouldn't until the next morning.

Overall, tonight had been fruitful. With Daniel, he would be able to stabilize all five of the clones, and, perhaps, he would even be able to win over Daniel. He had seen the relaxed smile on his face when he had been with the clones. Vlad knew how powerful ghost instincts could be.

He stood up and walked over to the room where he had asked his children to wait. They should be told that their elder siblings would make a full recovery shortly.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 24

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janekfan · 4 years

Note

Hello friend!! I thought of a prompt, and if you like it, it's yours!! What if Tim was kidnapped by the circus with Jon?? They're having a bad time together; Tim is hostile. Eventually, Jon starts to get quieter, and Tim thinks he's in a mood. Jon complains of a headache, and Tim thinks he's being a baby. Until he finds out he's burning up and was just too afraid to say anything because he didn't think he could take Tim telling him he didn't care 😭 (but, begrudgingly, he DOES) 💖

oooooooh this prompt! Had me feeling things! Thank you @taylortut!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400745

It was Tim who woke up first, unsure of where he was, still with the residual anger he’d had on his way to confront Jon about all of this nonsense still burning incandescent. Hindsight being 20/20, he probably should have taken the anonymous tip on Jon’s location with a grain of salt and a fistful of caution but he was just so angry it was filling him up like a poison, overflowing with nowhere to go, and it was so much easier to focus on his boss because it was his fault they were in this mess.

It was his fault Sasha was gone.

It was his fault they were all trapped.

“T’Tim...” Barely an exhale and if the room they were contained in hadn’t been dead quiet, he’d ignore Jon. Still might. Let him sit in the guilt and shame of having inflicted whatever this was on yet another assistant.

If he even cared.

“Where...are we?” There was some light to see by, but not nearly enough to determine the answer to that even if he’d wanted to speak to him in the first place. Based on his own headache, Tim assumed that Jon had been knocked unconscious as well and corroborated it with the hiss of pain drawn sharply between his teeth.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Snapping callously and surprising even himself at the harsh bite in his voice, Jon flinched hard, turning with it to examine the space.

“We’re tied up.” He remarked, nonplussed, and Tim heard him pulling at his bonds. It wasn’t rope, but something softer and before he could think on it further a shaft of light fell upon Jon as a being, not quite a person, stepped through a door. “Nikola.”

“Well acquainted are you?” Tim scoffed.

“Not by choice.” And he didn’t look anywhere except straight at the thing he’d named, vitriol in his eyes, in the firm set of his jaw.

“Oh, Archivist. Don’t be like that.” Her smile was inhuman, too many teeth, not quite right. “And please do stop frowning like that.” Jon turned away from the fingers claiming his chin and Tim had once been so close to him that he knew he didn’t like to be touched unless he trusted you. Like Tim had trusted him. “I want you in pristine condition for the show.” She snapped once and several mannequins surrounded and released Jon from his bonds. They tried to drag him through the door and Jon fought like a beast possessed, wild and feral and loud and no match for their sturdy yet gentle grip as they carried him off against his will. It left Tim alone in sudden silence, a little stunned and more than a little worried and he’d take that to his grave, thank you very much.

With nothing else to focus his attention on, Tim could only think of how awful Jon looked illuminated in that cold beam with that monster leering down at him. Could only think about how hard he fought before he was hauled away in cold, plastic hands and wondered if that was the last of him.

But he was returned, quiet and haunted, still and silent when they tied him back down and resisting the water they held to his lips until they forced it on him by holding his nose, sputtering and hacking as they poured it down his throat. Calm, Tim took his ration, puzzling over his strange behavior and trying to get a closer look, but Jon just hid behind his overgrown hair, using it like a curtain to shield his face and visibly shivering.

“Given up already?” He sneered, trying to get a rise out of him.

He failed.

Time waxed and waned, strained and stretched, dilating like a pupil in the dark whenever Tim tried to keep track of it. Eventually, he gave up. It didn’t seem like there was any rhyme or reason regarding when they took Jon, but he assumed it was at least once a day. Each time he raged against them with everything he had and each time they overpowered him like he was a child and hurried him off to god knows where. Each time he was tied back down he had an odd blank look in his eye that gradually cleared until it didn’t, trembling finely and Tim used it as a way to needle him, goad him, tried to make him do something, anything. Without a response he didn’t know if he was getting through to him, but it made him feel better to take out his frustration on Jon.

Days passed. Inexorably slow with nothing to do save yell at his sole companion. Jon still tried to make his taking as difficult as he could, but he was slowing down, losing strength on a diet of bread and sips of water. Now when he returned he shook with the effort of weeping without sound, turned away as far as he could and spilling sorrow down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, little Archivist.” Nikola purred one day, lifting his face with a delicately placed fingertip. “Do you know why he hates you?” A new game they were forced to play. Because they were held captive by the Circus. And the Circus had taken Danny. And Tim screamed himself hoarse demanding answers from Jon when he'd been told.

“You’re lucky I’m tied down, Jon! I would take my answers by force if these fuckers would let me!” Jon never said anything other than apologies and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fair and when Jon cried it made him that much more furious because what right did he have to be upset when he was the one doing all this to them!

“We can’t have that, Tim.” She would smirk, placing her hands over his shoulders in a mock massage, tone soothing and so understanding. “We need him to be perfect.”

“Perfect.” Tim spat. Perfect. And Jon shook harder at Nikola’s cryptic words until she turned her machinations toward Tim because, after all? If he’d kept a closer eye on his precious family, would he have lost him at all?

“It’s really your fault if you think about it.” Tim tried his damndest to get closer, grappling so hard with his bonds he fell over and still tried to take a chunk out of her with his teeth. She merely laughed, ridiculing them both.

“Leave off!” Jon shouted, Tim’s chest was heaving against the floor as he twisted and bent himself into all manner of shapes in a fruitless attempt to attack her again, blind with rage and hate.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Nikola caressed his skin and Jon bit his lip until blood ran in rivelets but she left.

“I’m so sor--”

“Save it. Don’t think this changes anything.” Uncomfortable and sore and still seething, Tim laid there until they came for Jon.

Whatever they were doing was taking a visible toll and Jon’s resistance began tapering off and he became too tired to put up a fight. He’d developed a cough that kept them both awake. It began small, chronic and dry, but no less obnoxious and only Jon could find more ways to make this captivity more difficult.

“Stop it.” Clipped and bitter.

“Sorry, sorry. Smoking, you know.” Tim didn’t answer and Jon’s attempts to stifle it were sorely lacking, bursting from his chest like a gunshot.

“You know what they want, don’t you.” Surprised, he looked up, nodding slowly, brow furrowed. “Well?”

“It’s. It’s.” Real fear raced across his face before he could stop it and he swallowed thickly.

“Lemme guess. It involves you.” Tim’s ire began to rise because of course it did.

“Yes.”

“And you won’t just give it over to save us?” Jon looked away, eyes shut tight.

“No.” He tried to take a deep breath and it lodged somewhere in between. “But it’s becau--”

“Save it. Coward. It’s enough that you won’t consider it.” Resentful, Tim again wanted to get his hands on him because of course he’d refuse. There wasn’t a more selfish man in the archives. “So this is it then? We go the way of Sasha?”

“I--”

“Because you didn’t help her either. Didn’t even notice.” It was his turn to hide because he’d be damned if Jon saw him cry. “Maybe if she’d been the Archivist, it would have been you.”

Jon didn’t, couldn’t fight this time and was more lifeless than any time before when they secured him which seemed to please Nikola and she praised him, dragging fingers through his messy hair, pulling sharply on the tangles.

“Ah, you’ve finally learned, Jon." And she tapped his cheek, sickeningly tender, before finally leaving him alone.

“Giving up so soon?” Tim scoffed; ‘so soon’ being weeks into their capture when Jon was clearly exhausted, sleeping more and more in between waking enough to hack up a lung. He could hear the wheeze on his breath from where he was across the room. “Figures.”

“Jus’… m'head hurts.” Laughing bitterly, Tim told him to keep it to himself. Dealing with Jon when he was in a mood or whining for the sake of it hadn’t made it onto his agenda. But the part that cared, that he’d tried to stamp out and fill with hate, reminded him that they were both dehydrated and hungry.

Reminded him that Jon was getting quieter and quieter, going long stretches between speaking and this time when he was carried away, he was frighteningly lax and loose, head thrown back and gasping, overbright eyes half lidded. This time, when they dragged him back and tied him up, he was crying openly, shaking fit to fly apart and eerily quiet. But the tears were there, streaming down his face and gathering on his chin before his trembling got the better of them.

“Jon?” If anything, he sobbed harder, the sound choked off as he tried so, so hard to be quiet.

“Please s’stop, Tim.” And his whisper was so broken, so small and sad, that Tim shut his mouth, because Jon was at his breaking point and he’d helped push him to it.

Now Tim couldn't stop looking at Jon and it made the other man self conscious when he was awake enough to notice, trying to keep his head turned away when he had the strength and it wasn't thrown back over the chair while he gasped like a fish out of water.

The few times Tim caught him looking his way were fraught with weariness. Jon's red rimmed eyes, bruised and ringed with shadow, held a constant question and reminded him too much of his paranoia. Truthfully, the stare was heavy and he was uncomfortable with the weight of it leveled across his shoulders.

"What're you staring at?" But it was a half-hearted attempt at inflicting hurt and Jon shrugged, blinking and a few times as if to clear his vision.

"You okay?" It sounded like he'd been swallowing gravel, rough and low and painful.

"What do you think?" And Tim couldn't stop responding in anger, swearing to himself that Jon's defeated expression meant less than nothing.

Jon wasn’t well.

He’d been unconscious for the better part of a day and Tim hadn’t been able to rouse him; shouting at him from the other side of the room wasn't enough but he tried once more out of desperation.

“Jon, buddy. Jon!”

“Mmwha'Tim?” Cracked right in the middle, it was forced through a deep wet cough that sounded bad. Really bad. The effort left his narrow chest heaving with every difficult pull for air, like he was breathing through a straw.

“Oh, thank god.” Even with the distance between them Tim could see his face twist up in confusion. “You weren't answering me.”

“Talkin t'me?” Panting and pale in the weird light, Jon’s features seemed carved from shadow and sweat.

“Yes, who else??” More than used to Tim’s frustration and annoyance, Jon just let his chin tip forward on his chest. “Jon, what's wrong.”

“Head hur's.” Slurring badly, Jon gave up words altogether in favor of letting his dark lashes flutter closed.

“You've said! What else?” Yelling and angry and helpless, the guilt rose in him like a slow and deadly tide when he saw tears slipping down his face. Tim was scared and he was mean, shouting and demanding, because of it. Because he thought he was done caring about this paranoid menace who had posed as his friend and gotten them into this mess. And he wasn't, oh he wasn't and something was seriously, seriously wrong and he was tied to a chair two meters away and couldn’t do anything about it. “Jon! Don’t, hey! Don’t go to sleep!” But it didn’t matter, he was already gone.

“Well, don’t you look tetchy.” Tim ignored Nikola’s jab the next time she and her clowns came to visit and through a surge of protectiveness he hadn’t felt in so long for anybody, he spoke on his behalf.

“Please. Jon, he. Something’s wrong.” She didn’t look impressed.

“He’s stopped his fighting.”

“Let me check on him. Whatever you need him for, he won’t be any use if he’s dead, right?” Nikola laughed, cruel smile striking fear into Tim’s heart for the first time.

“It wouldn’t matter, truly. But. Well," grabbing a fistful of hair, she forced his head back and forth to get a good look at him. "I just don’t think he’s done yet. And that would be a shame--I do so wish to look my best.” Tim was no closer to figuring out what was happening but it didn’t matter anymore. “I assure you, if you try to run.”

“I won’t.” Swiftly promised, they’d escape another time. Somehow, someway. “Untie us?”

“Us?” She chuckled and in the end, only released Tim but it would have to do, and once he was sure she was well and truly gone, he stumbled on numb legs to stand over him.

“Jon?” Gently, like he might break under the weight of his hand, Tim laid it over his forehead, brushing back through his tangled hair when the heat of it met his palm. He was a furnace, burning away to nothing and very sick. “Jon?” He tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt, wiping away the sweat because there was nothing else he could do until he finally came around. “Hey, Jon.” Jerking away with enough force that Tim had to catch the chair, he coughed with his shoulders hunched around his ears like--

Like Tim was going to strike him.

“Oh, no, no.” What a mess they’d made. “Hey, none of that.” When he went to apply the compress again, Jon flinched, shaking, muttering breathlessly:

“Don’touch, please, don’touch me any’anymore. Pl’please.” So now he was free, free to see up close the terror and fear, faced with it plainly enough to question that Jon wanted any of this at all, or if he was just as caught in it’s spiraling web. He wore himself out, body slumped uncomfortably where he was tied as he lost consciousness and Tim was at a loss as to what to do. He wasn’t able to pick apart the knots, didn’t have anything to slice through his bonds. No medicine, no water. Nothing, and so he finally relegated himself to pounding on the door, shouting, pleading for water because Jon was out of his mind with fever and wouldn't let Tim touch him. Of course it went unanswered, and instead he found himself sitting crisscross at Jon’s feet. “Don’...don’touch…”

“I won’t, I promise. Not, not until you say I can.” Wringing his hands, remembering every time they'd helped each other through a sick day at the institute. Remembering when he was free to touch and free to comfort. Jon ruined that. But it shouldn't mean he was afraid of him.

“T’tim?” The whimper of recognition made the fist around his heart squeeze. “They...they’re. My skin. Take it. G’g’gonna take it.”

“Calm down, you’re not making sense.” And shaking so hard with chills his teeth were chattering.

“It’s going to, to hurt. She, Ni-she.” Worked up, Jon was hyperventilating, barely getting any air between his coughing and rambling but he wouldn’t listen to Tim. “It’s, it’s. I, I, I don’wan’to h’hurt anymore…” Delirious, he had to be, paranoid and ill and delusional and he said as much.

“Okay, Jon? That’s not going to happen.”

“Why Tim!” Nikola’s delighted voice rose up behind him and he startled. “He didn’t tell you? This ritual requires a special ingredient, a costume! Of special power and distinction and you,” she tapped his forehead sharply, “just don’t fit the bill!”

“Costume?”

“Of course!” When she clapped her hands together it made a sharp plastic clatter. “Our Archivist here will have the most lovely skin when we’re through with him.” Tim felt sick to his stomach. Jon. He’d. He’d called him a coward. Wished awful things on him and maybe it would be impossible to be friends again but, but they’d been friends once. Been close once. And.

“Please. He, he needs water.” His voice shook. “His--” skin “It’ll be better if he’s had enough water.”

“A wonderful idea!” She turned away from where she was tracing lines over his body, “to think I wanted to kill you upon arrival, when you’ve been so useful in keeping our mutual friend in line!”

“Slow, slow Jon.” He pulled the cup away when it seemed he’d try for the whole of it at once, “you’ll make yourself sick.”

“T’Tim...need.”

“I know, be patient.” Jon’s brown eyes were piercing even glassed with fever, all his limited focus directed at Tim.

“N’no.” He paused to get enough breath to speak. “Run. You n’need to run.” Days ago, Tim would have done so in a heartbeat but the thought of abandoning him now. He couldn’t.

“I cant.”

“Tim”

“No, not without you.” His gaze was devastating and he dropped his head.

“Why?” He didn’t have an answer and thankfully didn’t need one because at that very moment a yellow door appeared where one had never been before and through it stepped a man who both was and wasn’t, face ever changing, limbs elongating in strange intervals and he had to look away.

“I’ve come to kill you, Archivist.” A distorted echo that was also not an echo filled up the room.

“Get in line, you’re not the only one who wants a piece.” The being seemed taken aback, tickled that a human would even dare, and Jon used the gap in their conversation to draw its attention.

“Michael.” The thing that was Not What It Is shifted focus, oil on water. “Tell me.” And while Jon couldn’t say anything more than that, he did and instead of killing the archivist, Helen saved him, using sharp fingers that warped and writhed to slice the bonds and send him sprawling to the ground. Or would have, if Tim hadn’t caught him. He wouldn’t respond to Tim’s shaking and shouting and when Helen offered to grant them both safe passage as a favor to her favorite Sims (her only Sims, Tim figured) he lifted him into his arms and stepped through the door.

And into his own flat.

“Do tell him I say hello, would you?”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Course.” Awkwardly, he waved with his arms still full of Jon. “Thanks.” When he was sure his flat had only the same number of doors it came with, he laid his burden down on the couch, heading to the medicine cabinet for any fever reducer he could find and filling a glass with water on the way. It took too much time to wake him and he wasn’t aware enough to parse the instructions Tim was trying to explain, that dreadful whistling almost deafening this close and the crackling in his lungs like dry leaves in autumn. So he propped him up against his shoulder, body blazing through their clothes, and slipped the pills onto his tongue one at a time so he could swallow them with small sips. Replacing himself with several pillows shoved behind him, Tim wrung out a cool flannel and smoothed it over his forehead, ignoring the sluggish, enquiring gaze until it disappeared behind heavy lids and his face relaxed into sleep.

There wasn’t anything in the fridge that survived his absence save for the bicarbonate of soda and beyond that, Tim didn’t want to take a chance opening anything. The bread was moldy, but a packet of biscuits with peanut butter helped dull the hunger and, though he would never admit it, gave him a reason to stay up to watch over Jon. Flushed and fevered, he mumbled nonsense in his sleep, and Tim recognized enough that he soon decided not to listen, the horror of it too much to bear just yet. He fell into his own bed, relaxing sore muscles and glanced at the clock blaring too bright numbers that he didn’t want to read, his last conscious decision that they’d been gone this long, what was one more night before telling everyone else they weren’t dead.

The sun, blessed sun, fell across his face and he let himself have a lie in until he remembered who was passed out on his couch and he dragged himself towards responsibility, a knot of apprehension tight in his throat, relaxing when Jon looked, well, not well, but better. Apparently sensitive to being watched, their eyes collided briefly before ricocheting away and Tim was irritated by it and the way Jon was avoiding him again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were that sick?” Though Tim stood over him, Jon continued to look at his hands, tracing a finger over the rough scar spanning his whole palm. He took his time, thinking, so long that when Tim shouted “well?!” he jumped, eyes wide, breath catching.

“You. You said.” Coughing into his elbow, he needed a moment to recover. “Said t’to keep it to myself.”

“When you were complaining about a headache!” Jon shrugged with one shoulder, curling into himself small and fragile, somehow more so in the late morning light.

“Didn’t think--”

“No, you didn’t, you never do, Jon!”

“--you’d want to know.”

“Jon.” But would he have wanted to know? Would he have ignored it like he had his anguish? What reason had Tim given him when he’d used everything he experienced in that room and out of it as a weapon against him? Jon was looking up at him, wan and pallid, waiting for whatever Tim had to say and he knew he would take it like he’d taken it in their captivity. He sat on the low table in front of the couch. “Jon. I’m. You know I’m angry with you.” He nodded. “I’m sorry for, I took it too far. But, I’d still have wanted to know.” He pressed the next dose of medicine into his unblemished hand and made sure the water glass was within reach. “Take those.” Before he slipped into the kitchen and away from their shared mistakes, but he could still hear.

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Oh,” he popped his head back into the sitting room. “Helen says hello.” And chuckled when Jon threw an arm over his eyes with a groan.

#Tma #the magnus archives #sick jon #Jon Sims #tim stoker #Headache #Fever #non con touching #Kidnapping #Threats of bodily harm #Prompt

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years

Text

Doppelgänger (6/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{13}

“He had a living shadow,” Sam was explaining as the trio made their way through the fairgrounds. “It was pretty cool, until the stupid thing managed to release the ghost snake and I had to spend another hour chasing it down. Though, it would have been a lot easier if I wasn’t alone.”

“Sorry Sam,” Danny said, leaning into her side. “Apparently, Dad put in a fingerprint scanner to lock the portal and wanted to show it off. I had to convince my dad to stop before he let the whole ghost zone out, not to mention try to figure out how to get you guys access.”

“How’d that go?” Tucker asked.

“Dad took forever to stop, but once he did it didn’t take long to add you guys. Jazz helped.”

“Really?” Sam said. “Why?”

Danny shrugged. “She’s been weirdly helpful since Spectra. She’s been helping keep mom and dad off my case and everything. Maybe she’s worried I’ll stop hanging out with her again?”

“Maybe.” Sam nudged Tucker. “So that’s why Danny couldn’t help. What’s your excuse for ditching me?”

“Mom asked her friend’s daughter to tutor me in history. I had to leave to meet her at the library then walk her home.”

“Did you flirt with her?” Danny asked.

“How bad was the turndown?” Sam added.

“You’re both terrible partners.”

Danny pulled away from Sam to cuddle up to Tucker, kissing his cheek. “You know we’re just teasing.”

Tucker wrapped his arm around Danny with a glare. “You’re too adorable for your own good.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up. “I’m not adorable.”

“You are. It’s not fair when you use it against us,” Sam said.

“I’m not adorable. And I don’t use it against you.”

“Not on purpose,” Sam agreed with a smirk. “You’re too oblivious for that.”

Danny rolled his eyes and pulled away. His eyes caught on where his sister was waiting for him by an art stall and he smiled. “Alright, I’ll catch up with you guys later. Jazz!”

“Hey Danny,” she greeted. She stared at a painting of a clown as he ran up to her. “What does this say to you?”

“It says My name’s Joe. Why? What does it say to you?”

“I’m serious,” she huffed.

“So am I.” He laughed and ducked away when she tried to mess with his hair. “Come on, I want to kick your butt at Ring Toss.”

“You’re on, little brother!”

Jazz ended up winning at Ring Toss, but Danny beat her at darts. The two were heading towards the Skee-Ball booth for a tiebreaker when screams sounded overhead. They looked up to see the roller coaster train had jumped the tracks. Danny spotted Sam and Tucker carrying the train’s passengers to safety, but the train was heading straight for the siblings.

Danny grabbed his sister. He was about to use his intangibility, secret or no, but then suddenly they were next to a booth and the train smashed to the ground ten yards away.

The siblings gaped at the crash, then turned to each other.

Danny started panicking, sure that he had just done… something to get them out of the way.

Jazz gave a shaky laugh. “Wow, that was crazy. I was sure it was headed for us for a second there. Guess fear really does mess with your head.”

“Y-yeah.” She didn’t notice! Danny didn’t know how she didn’t notice, but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

He nodded and looked back to the train as his ghost sense went off. What just happened?

That stupid shadow ghost is back! Sam said.

“Are you alright?” Danny and Jazz turned as a guy on a motorcycle came up to them. He smiled at Jazz and looked her over. “That looked close.”

“We’re okay,” Danny said, then frowned when the guy gave him a quick annoyed look before focusing back on Jazz.

“I think you dropped this.” The guy handed Jazz the stuffed owl Danny had won her -- Jazz had won a teddy bear covered in stars for Danny -- with a smile and wink. “The name’s Johnny.”

Danny blinked. Was he… flirting with Jazz?

Gross.

“Thanks. I’m Jasmine. Jazz.”

Danny smirked and leaned towards her. “Should I give you two some privacy?”

She elbowed him.

“I’m glad you’re okay. You look cold though.” The guy pulled a scarf out of his jacket and held it out. “Here.”

Danny shivered and felt Jazz do the same. He looked around with a frown as she said, “I couldn’t.”

“It’s fine, take it.” He smiled as Jazz hesitated, then took it from him. “I bet you’ll look great in it, Kitten.”

“My name’s not Kitten,” Jazz said as she put it on. Then her smile widened. “But you can call me that, if you want.”

Wait, was Jazz flirting back?

Double gross.

“Ride home, kitten?”

Jazz gasped and moved to climb onto the bike.

Danny caught her arm. “What are you doing? You don’t even know this guy.”

She yanked her arm away with a glare. “Lay off. I can handle myself.”

“What about us-time?”

“I want to go home. I know you can get home on your own.”

“Ja-”

“Bye, Danny,” she snapped, climbing onto the bike and putting on the helmet.

“Bye,” he said as the bike took off. “Wow, and I thought I was an idiot with my crushes… I shouldn’t follow her… She will definitely kick my butt if she finds out…”

Danny transformed and followed the bike invisibly.

Thankfully Johnny did take her home, if on a bit of a circuitous path. She seemed happy about it though so Danny couldn’t hold it against the guy.

He left them at the door and headed to the lab. He couldn’t go to his room without raising questions, so he figured he might as well clean up the lab then head into the zone and check on Cujo and the blobs.

He had just put away the last beaker when someone opened the door to the lab. He quickly changed back as Jazz and Johnny came down the stairs, his sister wearing a red leather jacket he’d never seen before.

“Danny? What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, uh, hey Jazz! Just, uh, doing my chores. Yeah. Nice jacket.”

She smiled and turned to her date. “Johnny gave it to me.”

Okay, a scarf was one thing, but a jacket? “Right. What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for some privacy. So scram,” Johnny said.

Danny was slightly surprised -- and hurt -- Jazz didn’t react to his rudeness, but pushed it down. Instead, he gave her an incredulous look. “You wanted a secret place to make out and you brought him here. To our parents' lab. Where they spend almost all their waking hours.”

Jazz frowned and looked around, confused.

“Don’t you have better things to do than bug us, kid?”

Danny ignored the older boy and set his hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “Seriously, do you want mom and dad to walk in on you? I thought you were smarter than that. Take him up to the Ops Center, at least.”

She pulled away from him, but his hand caught on the scarf, causing both to slip down her shoulder. Both began to glow green.

Before Danny could react, Johnny grabbed him and yanked him away. “You know what, punk? We’ve had just about enough of you.”

Sam had mentioned a biker ghost was controlling the shadow. Danny’s ghost sense had gone off just before Johnny had ridden up.

I’m an idiot, Danny thought. “You’re a ghost!”

“Scared?” Johnny chuckled, aura flaring up.

Danny closed his eyes to hide the flash of red as he reached into his Space Fold behind his back and pulled out the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. He opened his eyes and smirked. “Dude, my parents are ghost hunters.”

Then he hit the ghost in the head with the ectoplasm saturated bat.

Johnny dropped him with a yelp, grabbing the side of his face. Then he shot Danny a deadly glare. “Shadow.”

The biker’s shadow lifted off the ground and growled at Danny.

A throat cleared and the three turned to see Jazz glaring at the ghosts, the Fenton Ghost Peeler wrapped around her. She aimed the gun at the shadow. “Hands off the little brother,” she said before blasting it.

It shrieked under the light, writhing as the darkness was peeled away to nothing.

“Oh, no! My Shadow! My Power!” Johnny shouted and froze when Jazz turned the gun on him.

“In you go, creep,” she said, gesturing to the portal with her head.

Smiling, Danny walked over and opened it, bat bouncing against his shoulder.

Johnny sent him a poisonous look. “This isn’t over, kid.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at him.

“And take your junk with you,” Jazz said, kicking the scarf and jacket.

Johnny grabbed them and left.

“Don’t come back soon,” Danny called as he closed the portal. He turned to Jazz as she disengaged the peeler. “That still looks weird.”

“Yeah.” She pulled him into a hug. “Thanks. Who knows what that ghost would have done to me if you hadn’t been here.”

“I just hit him with a bat. You’re the one that blasted the shadow.”

She pulled back to look at the bat. “I thought that was just an ordinary bat that mom slapped a sticker on. How’d it hurt him?”

“Oh, I, uh, soaked it in ectoplasm.” And by that, he meant he let a ghost dog slobber all over it and use it for fetch. “I’m just glad it was close enough for me to reach.”

“Sure.” She kissed the top of his head. “You’re the best little brother.”

“Ugh! Gross, Jazz!”

{Public Enemies, Part 1}

“I’m exhausted,” Danny moaned.

“What is going on in the zone? We’ve never needed all three of us out all night,” Sam said, leaning against Tucker.

“At least most of them are all low levels. They’re more annoying than anything,” he huffed. “I need a nap though.”

“- over to Principal Ishiyama, who's here to inform you of some exciting rules and restrictions,” the mayor was saying as the trio tuned back into the assembly.

“This is going to end badly,” Danny muttered.

“I swear if they make it harder for us to transform, I’m just going to leave them to the ghosts,” Tucker said and both his partners elbowed him. “Ow! I was just kidding!”

“Due to the continuing and escalating ghost threat,” the principal said as she came onstage, “here's the way we're going to limit your freedom: One, students are to have no contact with these spirits.”

“You heard her Sam, get off,” Tucker joked and tried to nudge the tired girl off his shoulder.

She jabbed him in the side, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Two, all students will be escorted directly to their homes after school. And three, by order of the Mayor's new security advisor, a nine o'clock curfew.”

“A curfew?” Sam hissed.

“An escort?” Tucker groaned.

“OK, who's the idiot security advisor that came up with those lame ideas?” Danny huffed and leaned into Tucker’s other side.

The door to the auditorium slammed open and Danny’s dad yelled into a megaphone, “Fear not, young ones! We're here to make sure this school is prepared for any ghost emergency!”

Danny whined and hid his face in Tucker’s neck.

“You must be cautious! At any time one of these ectoplasmic malefactors -- Hi, sweetie! -- could appear out of nowhere!”

Danny didn’t want to know if his mom had singled him out or Jazz. He really didn’t. “Time to sit in the back where nobody can notice us?”

“Time to sit in the back where nobody can notice us.”

The three sluggishly got up and slipped to the back of the auditorium, ignoring Danny’s parents as they went on and on about how terrible ghosts were.

Then their ghost senses went off.

“Oh no. You have got to be kidding me. Here? Now?” Danny asked as Sam grabbed both their arms and started dragging them towards the doors. The crowds were making it impossible to get out together, though. And then a werewolf ghost was grabbing them by their linked arms.

“Servi!” it growled before Danny’s mom blasted it away.

They tried to chase after the ghost when it fled, only to come face to face with Lancer as soon as they were out the door.

“Bridget Jones' diary, kids! Stop your screaming and get over there into the safe area!”

They all scowled, but allowed themselves to be shoved back towards their classmates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Our parents invited the A-listers over to be trainee ghost hunters,” the trio said as Danny met up with Sam and Tucker. He handed them each a thermos then they split up. “We’re surprised Paulina would risk her hair like that. We’re more surprised they’d want to spend time with our parents. They always make fun of them. We can’t wait to toss that blabbering hairball who started this back into the ghost zone. We don’t think it was blabber. We think it was Esperanto.”

Danny and Sam frowned as the information floated from Tucker to them.

“Do you think we could look up more of the language to figure out what he was saying? Or talk to our fellow nerds? We can try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three ran towards the trees after the wolf ran past their lunch table. They froze when they saw Jazz hiding there.

“Danny, Sam, Tucker, hi. Are you hiding here?” Jazz pointed down, looking over the three. “I'll go hide over there.”

“That was weird,” Tucker said as she ran off.

“It is Jazz,” Sam pointed out.

“No time for that. Let’s go ghost.”

The three transformed and shot off towards the wolf.

“Walker,” they growled as Sam pointed at the ghost police following the wolf. Then they scattered to dodge a green blast. It shot past them and hit the guards, sucking them through a portal.

“Whoa! Portable ghost portal? Oh great. Can we get one of those? Too clunky.”

They continued the chase to see the remaining guard fire a gun that shot out ectoplasmic ropes to catch the wolf’s tail.

“He’s hurting him,” they said as the wolf was electrocuted. “We have to help. If Walker's goons are after him, he can't be all bad.”

Tucker flew past the goon, shutting down the gun with a wave of his hand and leaving his partners to fight him off as he intercepted the wolf. It glared at him and he held up his hands to show he wasn’t armed. “Friend. Uh, amiko?”

The wolf sniffed him then licked his cheek. “Ugh, why couldn’t the dog person deal with this. We’re the only one who can sort of understand him.”

“Alright nobody move!” Tucker turned to see Danny’s Dad standing in a bush, tangled Fenton Fisher in hand. The man frowned when he realized what was wrong and started tugging at the line. “As soon as I get this thing untangled, you two beasties are going down.”

“It’s okay, he’s not a threat,” they said quietly as Sam and Danny came closer, having run off Walker’s goon. “It’s our mom you have to worry about.”

“Vere?”

Danny spotted his mom in a tree, targeting the wolf, and all four quickly fled. They landed on a nearby building.

The wolf glanced between the trio and growled something in Esperanto, but they could only pick up something along the lines of not and one.

“You mean us? Yes, we’re not one.” They all transformed.

“Guess it’s a little more obvious with animal instincts,” Danny said.

“We need to find somewhere you can stay,” Sam said.

“Tuck, think you can do something about that collar?” Danny asked.

The wolf growled and Tucker held up his hands. “It’s okay, no touching is needed.” His eyes turned purple. “Wow, this is kind of complex. Okay, I think I’ve… Yes!”

The collar fell to the ground.

“Mi libera!” the wolf barked, hands going to his neck.

“Of course you’re free. You -” The wolf ran off. “You're welcome!”

"Follow him,” Danny said, grabbing two thermoses out of the fold and tossing them to Sam and Tucker. “I need to go get the spare thermos I hid in my locker. Mom stole my other one. It’s probably going to be another long night.”

They nodded and transformed. Sam and Tucker followed the wolf as Danny went back to the school. He’d just grabbed the thermos when he heard voices.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #Doppelgänger au

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littlemisswolfie · 4 years

Text

A Midnight Run

AO3

The woods are dark, this late at night. Sam knows the moon above her is full, but its light is hidden behind the leaves of the trees looming over her. Her legs burn from the force of her feet pounding over the grass and dirt, and her lungs ache with all the air they’re pulling in and pushing out as she runs, but she can’t stop running. Not now. Not yet.

A few hundred yards to her left, someone yelps and something else growls. Heart pounding, Sam veers right and pounds her legs harder. She thinks that was Tucker. That means she’s the last one standing. The realization sends a shot of adrenaline through her system.

He wants a chase? she thinks. I’ll give him a chase.

There’s a creek nearby. Maybe she can hide her scent if she runs through it. That’s his primary means of tracking, after all. She has a chance if she can take away his sense of smell. If only she hadn’t left her bag in the truck; she has all sorts of nifty plants in there she could have used.

But there’s no use dwelling on that now. She has to keep moving.

The sound of running water hits her ears. She’s close to the creek. The ground is uneven here, and though all she wants is to sprint to the water, she has to take it slow. Tripping and falling would make too much noise, and then all hopes of escape would be dashed. And she refuses to let him win this time.

Her boots hit the creek with a splash. She bends at the waist to scoop water up and wet her face and arms as well. The water is freezing, but she can deal. In a few minutes, she’ll either be back in the warm truck, or she’ll be caught. Either way, she won’t be cold for long.

She backtracks a little to muddle the scent before taking off again. Sam knows these woods as well as she knows her bedroom by now, and she doesn’t need light to navigate. If she can make it back to the big pine tree they parked the truck by, she’s home free. Getting to the tree means the chase is over. And it’s less than a quarter mile away.

She takes one more deep breath to steel herself before she runs. She runs faster than she’s ever run in her life. Hell, she could outrun Dash Baxter. She’ll run as hard as it takes to get her to that tree. Because the tree means she wins.

She can just see the trunk of the tree when a twig snaps behind her. Her spine goes hot, burning white like a supernova, and that’s all the warning she gets before she’s being tackled to the ground. A hand comes up to keep her head from hitting the ground, but the rest of her body absorbs the shock, and suddenly there’s something heavy and warm over her, and a set of teeth pressing at her throat. Not biting, but the threat is there in the points of the fangs. “Gotcha.”

She groans, irritated, but rolls her head to the side in submission. “Only because you won’t let me use any of my herbs, you ass. Not all of us have night vision and super speed like you do.”

Danny chuckles, the sound much darker than it is during the day. Suddenly, Sam finds herself shivering from something other than the cold. “Are you, Sam Manson, saying you need help to beat me at something?”

“You wish.” She puts her palms against his chest, feeling fur where his shirt is ripped, and nudges, and he sits back without protest, though he’s still straddling her hips. She can’t see much of him in the low light, but she knows he can see her, so she wipes at her face to get some of the dirt off. Sam never used to be so aware of her appearance. In fact, she openly mocked girls like Paulina and Star who were so obsessed with their looks.

But that was before Danny changed.

They’re still not sure how, exactly, the change happened. It wasn’t like he was bitten or anything. It was probably something they messed with in his parents’ lab last September, but they’ll never be sure, now. What matters is that Danny isn’t human anymore. Sam can’t see him now, but she’s seen him often enough in the past few months to know exactly what he looks like. His body is larger, taller, more muscular. Black fur sprouts from his skin. His nails are sharper, more claw-like. His ears have moved to the top of his head, now pointed and fuzzy. And his eyes, usually the color of the sky on a clear day, are like liquid mercury—silver and burning.

“Now that you have me,” Sam says with a quirked eyebrow, “what are you going to do with me?”

Danny growls low in his throat at the obvious provocation and dives in, slanting his lips over Sam’s in a heated kiss. His hands, large and hot, grab her wrists and pin them above her head. She moans into the kiss, and though she very much enjoys his weight on top of her, she wishes she could wrap her legs around him to hold him to her. But when Danny’s like this, more wolf than man, he has to be in control. He has to have the leverage. “Part of the curse,” he’d grumbled once. “The wolf would rather die than submit.”

Lucky for them, Sam found herself more than happy to submit, if only to Danny.

“Tucker?” Sam asks when Danny pulls back to let her breathe.

Danny leans down to kiss and lick his way down her neck. “He went back to the truck to watch our phones. The woods are all ours.”

Good enough for Sam. She cranes her neck up to kiss Danny again, and he releases her hands so his can nudge her jacket away. “Next run,” he says against her lips, “try shedding some layers. It muddles your scent.”

“Giving me advice now, wolf boy?” Sam asks, trying to pretend he’s not leaving her breathless.

His fingers work their way under her tee shirt and brush against her belly. “Yes. The sooner you get away, the sooner you’ll let me mark you.”

One of Danny’s many new instincts is the drive to claim anything that’s his. In the day to day, he does it in both human and animalistic ways. He writes his name on the tag of all his clothes and scribbles on the covers of all his notebooks and he has a million decals on his cherry red motorcycle. He’s constantly touching Sam and Tucker at school, and he’s scent marked them at least once a day since their first run in with Skulker, a rival alpha who thought Danny would be easy pickings when he first changed. He’s drawn the line at peeing on things, thank god, but the one way Sam hasn’t let him claim her yet is by marking her.

Marking is permanent. Danny marking her would result in a bruise that would basically telegraph “Mate of Danny Fenton” to any supernatural creature in the immediate vicinity. And it’s not that Sam isn’t ready for that commitment—she’s been in love with Danny for years—but she refuses to be a damsel in distress any time some hunter or rival supernatural wants to get one over on Danny. So Sam decided she would refuse his mark until she could get away from him on a full moon on her own merit. If she can outrun a werewolf on his own turf at the time he’s at his strongest, she can do anything.

And Danny, the wonderful guy that he is, respects her decision, and he never holds back.

Just like he doesn’t hold back now.

Forty-five minutes later, they return to the truck. It’s Sam’s truck, a sixteenth birthday gift from her grandmother, and it’s the group’s primary form of transportation aside from Danny’s motorcycle. Tucker’s sitting in the passenger seat, blaring Ember’s new album over the Bluetooth radio, and he gives him an impressive eye roll when he sees their rumpled clothes and tangled hair. “Next month,” he says when they’re situated in the cab, Sam on the hump and Danny behind the wheel, “I’m asking Ember to come, too.”

“She’s gonna be in Mexico on her tour next month,” Danny reminds him.

“Damn.”

Sam leans her head on his shoulder. “Buck up. Maybe I’ll get away next month.”

“You guys will just be even worse if you do.”

Neither of them brings up the option of Tucker simply not coming at all next month. Danny wouldn’t stand for it. He needs them both on full moon nights. No exceptions.

Danny puts the truck into drive.

Tucker gets dropped off first, and Danny, as he always does, waits until he’s safely climbed the fire escape up to his window before driving away. Sam could move over to the passenger seat, but that would mean moving away from Danny, so she stays put until they get to her house.

They climb out of the truck and Danny cups her face with his hands and pulls her up for one last kiss. “Text me when you get home,” she tells him, even though he’s probably the most dangerous thing in Amity Park, at least for the moment.

“I will,” be promises, laying his forehead against hers. “I love you, Sam.”

Butterflies explode in her belly. “Love you, too.”

She feels Danny’s eyes on her as she clambers up the flower trellis leading to her window, and when she’s safely inside, it’s her turn to watch, silent, as he lopes off into the night.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #fanfic #ao3fic #amethyst ocean #my writing #my post #mine

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monochromemedic · 4 years

Text

This isn’t finished and probably wont be but i wrote alot so

Benny Benny Benny Benny BENNY I shifted the revolver in my hands, moving it from hand to hand as I moved with Arcade and Boone, trying to track down Benny after I tried to let him go. Forgive and forget. Be the bigger man. Turns out Benny was a lying asshole and sent in his cronies as he left for god knows where. And when raided the Legion I saw him tied up with the asshole in charge himself but when I went to get him after it all he disappeared. It was becoming a trend. I see him, Benny fucks me over and runs away. When I saw him in the Tops I noticed how he talked, how he walked, how hot he thought his shit was when actually he seemed like a dork. I joked about it with my friends, trying to cover the anger and frustration I felt but we all knew how upsetting it was. But we always seemed to find his trail. Then again it wasn’t that hard since he constantly kept his checkered suit on. And now we were following the trail again. After everything in Vegas... after Hoover dam, we still hadn’t found him. And so I took my two best friends, and traveled with the Followers of the Apocalypse, abandoning them for a moment at the sound of a smooth talker in a checkered suit. Usually Arcade would stay with the Followers, trying to guide the group or halt them until I came back. Or guiding them to where I heard Benny had went. After all, America was fucked and they could use help everywhere, so it didn’t take much persuasion. Meanwhile Boone and I ran ahead, the urge of vengeance driving us both. Why Boone was so pissed off as well was weird, since it was my problem, but it seemed like he was just as eager to put a bullet in his head as I was. But this time... the trail was strong. Arcade was getting sick of us chasing ghosts and wanted to end it as much as I did and followed us. Benny was hold up at some... pleasure house. One for real fancy rich folks and had been there for a while under some alias but slipped up one too many times with saying his real name. It was enough for me but when we learned that he kept favoring one girl in the club and took up a more permanent room we knew it was our chance. He’d be there for a while or at least planned to. We needed to move when he was settling down The three of us stood in the lobby of the hotel, women and men walking by in seductive get ups, some lounging on couches and beds beckoning a few of us to join in for the right amount of caps. I walked to one of the men who, rolled his hips seductively to the low music playing from a jukebox not too far away, a smile on his lips. “Hey baby, you looking to relieve some tension? Those boys of yours not fufilling you’re needs? I got you... Name’s Johnny Flood. You wanna know how I got that last name?” I cleared my throat and stared at Johnny, concealing the small revolver in a pocket. “Not today, but I do need you for some information.” “Hmm and what would man like me know?” I looked over Arcade who stepped up beside me. “Do you happen to know a man of Danny that’s been staying here recently? Black hair, strange way of talking like he’s trying too hard to be cool. Owns a black and white checkered suit?” “I’m sorry but that’s the Temptation Palace’s secret, we can’t give out that kinda information to just anyone.” Johnny teased “What if we paid you?” “Well... maybe i’d be willing to let my lips squeak out a bit of info...” I pushed my hands in my pocket and held out a bag of caps to Johnny, shaking it slightly so he knew that it was legit. “200 caps. Just for anything you know about the guy.” Johnny’s eyes widened as he took the bag and opened it, smiling at the sight of the shiny caps within before pocketing it and begging us with a finger to follow him. He lead us to a spare bedroom, closing the door behind us as he sighed and sat on the bed, his flirtatious facade fading a bit. “I do know a bit about him. Not alot but, i’ll be an open book about what i know baby. What’s he to you? He’s your husband?” I shook my head and eyed the room, checking to see if it was really secure. Boone was already doing the same, so I knew that he’d keep a look out while me and Arcade chatted him up. “No... he might as well be with the amount of times he’s fucked me.” “Can we not say that joke in front of strangers?” Arcade interjected before I continued. “He did some bad things to some people, and I just wanna talk and settle the score. I don’t want him hurting anyone else.” Johnny face fell a little, rubbing his face nervously. “Damn... well... alright. What I know about Danny is that he’s been hanging around Peaches way too much. I mean I was happy for her that she was getting a steady job but now that your saying that I guess I have noticed he’s a bit weird. I wear i’ve seen a gun on him but I always thought it was just for a little protection but It’s kinda big.” “Is it engraved?” “I couldn’t tell you, I never got that close. Just sort of seen the handle peaking out of the hem of his pants at times so I just assumed it was a gun in his pants and not his dick.” I looked at Arcade who, gave a tired sigh before continuing “Is he still here?” “Danny? I think so. Then again it’s hard to tell who comes and goes when you’re in and out of bedrooms. But he does seem to have a little room to himself that he rented. Only hardcore costumers do that so, I’d assume he planned on staying for a while longer. If you wanna talk to him he’s on the 3rd floor, I think it’s room 307. You might need a key to get in if you wanna... do anything.” I gave a slight nod and headed for the door, giving Johnny thanks for his information. Boone already had the door open. He got the information he needed. “W-wait.” I turned to Johnny, who became a bit nervous. “Listen I don’t know what you’re gonna do to him, probably nothing good but... this place is good and Peaches is a good girl. Make sure she’s safe and... if your gonna ... kill him then try not to be so loud. The Temptation Palace is suppose to be a place for people to relax and murder is one thing that turns alot of people off.” Boone only gave a quick, “No promises” as he left as I gave a more helpful answer. “I’ll keep her safe. And believe me, i’ll be as quiet as a mouse.” I stood outside with Arcade and Boone at my side as we kept silent, walking up the stairs to the third floor with one mission in mind. Even though we didn’t speak, we know we didn’t have to. There wasn’t anything to talk about that wasn’t what we already from talking about the situation night after night. I felt the goosebumps begin to form on my skin, and a shutter of adrenaline fall over me. I wonder if he could feel it too. The dread... the anticipation. When we got to the door it was locked but a few tries with a bobby pin caused it to open, a small creak from the hinges as we entered the dimly lit room, seeing Benny in his underwear, drinking at a small bar full of liquor. I could feel the scar begin to ache at the irony of it all, how similar this all was seeming. Just like the first time. “You’re like a damn cockroach you know that babes? I keep on stomping you out but you just keep on coming back no matter where I head.” Benny’s voice seemed to echo in the darkness. I raised my pistol at him, anger filling my mind and my body. All I wanted was to pull the trigger and end it, but I forced myself to stop. I still had questions. I always did. “Hard to hide when you never change your look from that dumb suit you wear. You really gotta try harder, it’s like you wanna be found.” “Maybe I do... maybe I do.” He took a swig of what was left in his glass and began to poor a half empty bottle of whiskey to refill it, before turning to me. As soon as he turned Boone and Arcade raised their concealed guns as well, causing Benny to chuckle. “Damn baby, you got that whole gang back together. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered about the reunion but you caught me in my birthday suit. I wouldn’t go and try to chum me up or else I might just start turning red.” “Jesus can you shut up already. Jenna take the shot and just end this.” Arcade barked out “We have him, we can’t let him get away again, just end it.” “Arcade stay out of this.” Boone growled back, “You don’t know what it’s like?” “What wanting to shoot an idiot? Because if that’s the case then you’re mistaken because I want to do that every day.” Benny sipped his whiskey and laughed, placing the glass on the counter with a smarmy grin on his face “I always love to see two broads going at each others throats... all just for me, i’m flattered.” “Shut up Benny” They both barked back, turns fixating back at the man I walked forward, inching closer and closer to Benny’s body until I was just a foot away. He looked a little weathered but otherwise the same. It seemed that running away from the constant mob of people chasing him was taking it’s toll. Good. “Why? I gave you a chance back at the Tops and you threw me under the bus. You think I wouldn’t be good for it? You never thought that sometimes people can be the bigger man and forgive? Now look at you. Alone, no casino, no chip, in a random sleezy hotel miles from home because you couldn’t accept the fact that I wanted to give you a second chance. Now i’m all out of chances Benny and i’m pretty fucking pissed.” “No one gets out scott free, not you, not me, not no body. I couldn’t take the chance of a backstab when I had the cards in play. It was just precaution, nothing more. You think too hard, i’m surprised that you haven’t broken that head of yours with all that thinking you must be doing, thinking there’s some bigger meaning. It’s a dog eat dog world, and sometimes killing friends is the best way to insure the dog’s don’t bite the hand that feeds, you dig? You’d probably do the same if you were where I was sittin.” “‘Maybe Khan’s kill people, but I ain’t a fink, you dig’“ “Dirty. Using my own words against me like that.” Benny said, a bit of venom in his tone. “So now what. You gotta pull the trigger and put me in a shallow grave? Cause you better do it quick or i’ll finish this entire bottle of whiskey while you’re mulling it over again.” My finger that hovered over the trigger began to quiver as I pushed it down against the smooth metal of the gun. Just a simple reaction, a little push and it’d be over. Benny would be dead in front of me. So why the fuck couldn’t I do it? I tried to force my finger down but the more I tried the more my hand tensed up, the harder I felt it getting to swallow. He ruined my life, my memory, everything who I was before the bullet. He deserved it right? “Come on doll face, just do it.” He urged, making me try again only to no avail. I took a step back, my head aching and my eyes beginning to tear up. I couldn’t speak, it all felt so wrong, so... bad. I was so tired of chasing but so tired of the blood constantly on my hands. “Jenna...” I turned to Boone, a look of concern on his face. “C...craig.” I whimpered back, shame overcoming me as Benny gave a somber exhale. “Can’t even do it. That’s sad pussycat, real sad.” Benny muttered, starting to get up only for Arcade to jump forward and hit him with handle of the gun, causing him to yelp and fall against the ground, a stream of blood coming from his temple. “Stay down or I will put a bullet right between your eyes.” Arcade growled, keys focused on Benny. He gave a cautionary glance at me before speaking. “We can’t play this game forever Jenna. You either have to be the one to do it, or we will. I don’t know how it’s difficult for you since this guy is a major pain but... it needs to be done. It’ll be better for everyone if we just bookend this.” “You can’t just take that away from her. You either let her do it, or let her decide who gets to.” Boone told Arcade

#fallout nv boone #fallout nv arcade #benny gecko #Self Insert

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

Text

King Stansort AU - Shermie

During a break from working on my thesis defense, I opened up my Stansort AU doc on a whim to reread some stuff, like I often do. And I stumbled across something I had written but never finished, so never posted. So, naturally, I finished off the thing (it was almost done anyways) and here it is: Shermie finally showing up in the AU where Stan marries a foreign princess and becomes a king consort. Think of it as something to tide you all over until I update “Recoil” next week.

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“Mr. Pines?” Shermie looked up from the stack of homework he was currently sifting through. He beamed at one of his favorite students, Devin.

“What’s up, Devin?” he asked kindly. Devin chewed on his lip.

“I, um…” Devin took a breath. “Do you have a brother named Stanley?”

“…Yes, I do,” Shermie said. He leaned back in his chair. “How did you know that?”

“Well, for Social Studies, we have to bring in a current event every week and explain it,” Devin said, talking much faster than he usually did. Dread began to mount in Shermie’s chest.

If Stan’s on the news, that can’t be good.

“And my mom, she was helping me find a current event to bring in,” Devin continued. “She likes following royal stuff, even royal stuff from places like Denmark or whatever. Not just England, like most people.” Shermie nodded silently. “So she told me to- to use this.” Devin dug a piece of paper out of his backpack and placed it on Shermie’s desk. “I thought that the guy looked sorta like you, and then I read that he had the same last name and was from New Jersey like you are and is- is that your brother?” Shermie stared down at the piece of paper. It was a printout of a news article from online, with a large image at the top of the page. The image was a picture of two people dressed in fine clothes being showered with petals. And one of the people was unmistakably Stan.

“Yes, that is my brother,” Shermie said in a thick voice. He cleared his throat. “Do you need this back or-”

“No, I’ve- I’ve got two copies. Just in case you wanted to keep that one,” Devin said. Shermie nodded. “Are you upset?”

“What? No! No, I’m not. Just surprised.” Shermie smiled in a reassuring manner. “And thankful. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Devin nodded jerkily. “You should probably go if you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

“Right! Okay, bye, Mr. Pines!” Shermie waved at Devin as he raced out of the classroom. He looked back at the article resting on his desk.

“American Pauper Marries European Princess”? That’s…how did Stan do that? I doubt any of us would be able to marry royalty, but Stan seems the least likely. He’s not refined at all. Shermie picked the piece of paper up and stared intently at the picture. There was no one else it could be, other than Stan. Stan seemed well-groomed, well-kempt, and euphoric as he beamed at his new wife. Guilt trickled into Shermie. Stan had been kicked out while Shermie was deployed and was long gone by the time his tour ended. It was something that weighed on Shermie; the wondering of whether things might have gone differently if he’d been there or gotten home sooner or even tried just a bit harder to find Stan. Clearly, I didn’t need to, if he married a princess. But still…

“Hi, Mr. Pines!” A voice shocked Shermie from his thoughts. He forced a smile at the flood of students entering his classroom.

“Hello, Bethany,” he replied, unable to see her in the mass but recognizing her voice. He shook off the guilt and regret.

I have to focus. My students don’t deserve to lose out on English class just because I found out where my brother is. He managed a half-smile. Even if they’d prefer to spend the whole period doing anything but learning.

-----

When he arrived home, Shermie dropped his bags by the front door, kissed his wife Amelia and their young son, Caleb, and made a beeline for the desktop computer. A quick search on the internet for “Stanley Pines” resulted in dozens of hits about Shermie’s younger brother, almost all linked to his relationship with royalty. Specifically, the royal family of the small European country of Lirone.

Lirone? I’ve never heard of it. Shermie clicked a few links, trying to get as much information as quickly as possible into Stan’s current circumstances. Then again, I’m not a geography teacher. He spent well over an hour diving into articles on Stan, Lirone, and the Lirone royal family, only stopping when his wife called him for dinner.

“In a minute, love,” he said absent-mindedly, still focused intently on an article detailing Stan’s wedding. Amelia walked into the living room and propped a hand on her hip.

“What exactly are you doing?” she asked. Shermie tore his gaze away from the computer screen.

“I know where my brother is.”

“Well, yeah, so do I. He does research in Oregon.”

“No, not that brother. My other one. Stanley,” Shermie said. Amelia frowned, confused. “He made a big show of being allowed to drink champagne at our wedding.”

“Oh! And then, because he was talking about it so much, got told he couldn’t anymore?”

“Yep. That’s him.” Shermie looked back at the computer. “I don’t know if you remember, but he got kicked out while I was on tour. I tried to track him down when I came back and- and I couldn’t.”

“But now you know where he is.”

“Yes. One of my students gave me a news article today about him,” Shermie said. Amelia sucked air between her teeth.

“Oh, that can’t be good.”

“No, it’s- honestly, it’s better than good. It’s astounding. Stan married a princess.” Amelia’s jaw dropped. “That was my reaction, too.” Shermie clicked on another link, this one leading to contact information for the Lironian royal family. “I need to talk to him.”

“Honey, I don’t know if you should,” Amelia said gently. Shermie froze in the middle of filling out a form. “He married a princess and never told you or Ford or your parents. If he wanted to talk to you, he woulda sent an invite to the wedding, right?”

“I…” Shermie’s hands fell away from the keyboard. “…You’re right.” A weary weight settled on his shoulders. “He has resources available to him. If he wanted, he would have been more than able to contact me. But he chose not to do that, even when he got married.” Shermie hung his head. “I can’t- I can’t really blame Stan for not wanting to talk to me. I shoulda tried harder to find him, I-” Amelia walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself. You did what you could.”

“Yes, but-”

“Maybe he just needs time. I’m sure he’ll reach out when he’s good and ready.”

“Maybe,” Shermie mumbled. Crying began to emit from Caleb’s playpen, which was set up in the middle of the living room. Shermie got up from the computer. “I’ll take care of the little stinker if you want to serve up dinner?”

“Sure thing,” Amelia said. She kissed him on the cheek. Shermie walked over to the playpen and picked his son up. He glanced back at the computer.

Amelia’s right. I need to let Stan make the first move. But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him and what he gets up to. I am still his big brother, after all.

-----

Shermie turned on the news. For four years now, he’d been following the actions of the Lirone royal family. Perusing pictures of them at events, watching speeches translated into English, and being moved to tears by announcement of the princesses’ birth. He was still heartbroken that Stan had yet to contact him, despite being a father now.

But that’s not what’s important at the moment. What’s important is that Stan’s wife was shot and they still haven’t caught the would-be assassin. Shermie sat down on the couch to wait for any updates. The phone rang.

“Amelia, would you mind?” he called. The phone stopped ringing. He could faintly make out Amelia asking who was on the phone. The news segment changed.

“In international news, we’re receiving word that the royal family of the small European country of Lirone had a visit this last month,” the newscaster said. Shermie leaned forward. “The news of the visit was public information in Lirone, but kept out of international news organizations, due to the country’s unique privacy laws. However, now that the visit is over, we can retroactively inform an international audience that it occurred.” A picture appeared on screen of Stan and his daughters walking in a garden. Shermie smiled. “Apparently, the visit was from none other than the king consort’s estranged twin, a Dr. Stanford Pines.” The picture zoomed out, revealing Ford walking with Stan and his daughters. Shermie’s smile was wiped away.

What?

“Shermie,” Amelia said, walking into the living room. She held out the phone. “It’s for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure I-” Shermie started, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

“It’s Stan.” Shermie’s head whipped around. Amelia nodded. “So are you gonna take it, or should I tell a literal king that you’re too busy watching TV to talk to him?” Shermie held out his hand. “That’s what I thought.” Amelia handed him the phone. Shermie swallowed and held the phone up to his ear.

“…Stan?” he croaked.

“Yeah.” At the sound of his younger brother’s distinct voice, Shermie could feel tears welling up. “Yeah, it’s- it’s me. Look, I, uh-” Stan took a breath. “I figured it’s about time you knew what I’ve been up to.”

“I know.”

“Wait, you do?” Stan asked. There was a muffled commotion on his end of the call. “Danny-” Stan said something in a foreign language. A high-pitched voice asked a question in the same tongue. “Non.”

“Apr-”

“Non,” Stan said, more firmly. He barked out an order, still not speaking English. There was another muffled commotion. “Sorry about that,” Stan said. “It’s a little bit crazy over here.”

“I know. Being a father is difficult.”

“You know about-”

“Yes, Stanley,” Shermie said. “I know you married a princess, who became a queen. I know that you have twin daughters. And I know that your wife was recently the subject of an assassination attempt.” Stan was quiet for a moment.

“How?” he finally asked.

“One of my students stumbled across an article about you when you were married. I’ve been keeping track of you since then.”

“I…” Stan seemed at a loss for words. He finally let out a small laugh. “Well, there goes the whole little speech I had planned.” Shermie smiled. “Ford had no clue.”

“Stanford is brilliant. But he tends to focus his observational skills on things other than human interactions.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Stan cleared his throat. “So, uh, Ford, he- he actually visited us here in Lirone.”

“The news just mentioned that.” Shermie leaned against the back of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you invited him.”

“I didn’t. Turns out his research partner is my brother-in-law, Fiddleford. Ford saw what happened to Angie on the news and convinced Fiddleford to let him visit.”

“Really? During such a tumultuous time?”

“Yep. It didn’t go well. I, uh, I actually kicked him out. But that’s not- that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling to…” Stan took a breath. “Invite you to the castle.” Shermie sat up straight.

“Wait, what?”

“It’s- my kids, they deserve to know my side of the family. I shouldn’t keep them from meeting you and Mom, just ‘cause I don’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

“But you don’t want them know Pops?”

“Oh, hell no. If Pops shows up, he’s getting kicked outta the country right away.”

“Smart move.”

“But yeah, I- I want my kids to get to know their Uncle Shermie. They really liked Ford and he’s not half as good with kids as you are, so I know they’d love you.” Stan paused. “And…I wanna see you, too. It’s been a long time.”

“It most definitely has.”

“So you’ll visit?”

“Of course!”

“That’s- that’s great.” Stan sounded relieved. A muffled voice said something on Stan’s end of the call. “I gotta go. But, uh, I’ll have my people set it up, okay?”

“You won’t be-”

“I don’t really have the time to set it up myself,” Stan said. Shermie’s heart sunk.

Right. He’s a king consort. He has more important things to do.

“We’ve got the best people working here, though, and they’ll call you to iron out the details. I really- I really gotta go. There’s a debriefing and-” Stan cut himself off. “You don’t need to know about it. All right, bye.”

“Bye,” Shermie said, barely getting it in before Stan hung up. Footsteps sounded. Shermie looked up. Amelia had joined him in the living room. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” she asked. Shermie let out a long sigh.

“It looks like I’m going to Europe.”

-----

Shermie nervously drummed his fingers on his lap as he stared out the window. His luggage was packed in the trunk of the town car that had come to pick him up from the airport.

“I’ve never had a chauffer before,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. The driver glanced at him but didn’t say anything. “Not a talker, then,” Shermie mumbled to himself. He looked down at the bag sitting by his feet containing gifts for Danny and Daisy. His mouth went dry.

That was a mistake! Why did I bother getting presents for literal princesses? They can get anything they want. He took a deep, calming breath. Relax. It’s going to be fine. He resumed looking out the window. While he’d been distracted, the car had turned down a long, winding driveway leading to a castle. Shermie swallowed.

The town car came to a stop. Before Shermie could even reach for the handle, the driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for him.

“Thank you,” Shermie said. The driver merely nodded. Shermie grabbed the bag with his nieces’ presents and stepped outside. He turned to the driver. “Do you know where Stan is?”

“The king consort got caught up in a meeting,” a voice said. Shermie turned around again. A man strode over. He was short and slender, wearing fine, tailored clothes. The man stuck his hand out for Shermie to shake. “The name’s Lute.”

“Lute…you’re one of the princes?” Shermie asked. Lute grinned.

“Yep.”

“I recognize the name. As well as, to be honest, the nose.” Lute laughed.

“I’m not offended, don’t worry. The royal nose is large and distinctive.” He blew his dark bangs out of his face. “It’s also one of the first things both your brothers mentioned when meeting me.”

“That sounds like my brothers,” Shermie said. Lute raised an eyebrow.

“You mentioned it as well.”

“Fair,” Shermie said lightly. The driver set Shermie’s items on the ground next to him. Lute looked down and caught sight of the bag containing Danny and Daisy’s gifts.

“What’s in there?”

“I-” Shermie rubbed the back of his neck. “This is stupid, but I brought Danny and Daisy some presents.” Lute was silent. “I just- I felt bad about missing their birthdays and- I’ll bring them back.”

“Why?”

“Well, Danny and Daisy are princesses. They can get whatever they want.”

“Pfft.” Lute snorted. “Not quite. Do they have access to more than the average child? Yes. But Angie and Stan don’t want their daughters to be spoiled. Not to mention, they rarely get American items.” Lute smiled reassuringly at Shermie. “Trust me, they’ll be happy just to meet you. When you give them gifts? They’ll be – ah, what’s the phrase – over the moon.” Shermie smiled back hesitantly. Over Lute’s shoulder, he saw the large main door open. His mouth went dry. A man exited the castle and walked over to Lute and Shermie.

“Uh, heya, Sherm,” Stan said awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. Acting on impulse, Shermie abruptly embraced Stan. Stan stiffened in shock at first, but relaxed and returned the gesture. Shermie broke off the hug.

“Hello, Stanley. It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, uh, you- you too,” Stan mumbled. He cleared his throat. “Um, come- come inside. If the girls don’t see you in the next five minutes, they’re gonna riot.”

“That’s the only reason you want me inside?” Shermie deadpanned. “You’re not concerned that if I stay out all night I might freeze to death? Or be attacked by bears?” Stan rolled his eyes. “You don’t want me to come in because you want to catch up with me? No, it’s because your daughters will be upset? Sure. Whatever you say.” Stan punched Shermie on the shoulder playfully.

“Shut up and get your ass inside the castle.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Shermie said slowly. Stan let out a laugh. Shermie beamed, glad that his tactic to make things less awkward had worked. “Don’t worry, I’m as excited as your daughters are.”

“That’s a high bar, Sherm. They loved it when Ford was here. I think they’re expecting someone that looks just like him.” Stan looked Shermie up and down. “They’re gonna be disappointed.” Shermie rolled his eyes. Stan turned around and began to walk back to the castle. “No use delaying their disappointment! C’mon, Sherm.” Lute and Shermie exchanged an amused look. Stan stopped at the door to look back. “I’m a king, Shermie. I can have you court-martialed.”

“You may be a king,” Shermie said, picking up his luggage, “but you’re also my little brother. If you court-martial me, I’ll have no choice but to tell the press all about Mr. Tummy.” Stan grimaced.

“Fine.” He sighed in an exaggerated manner. “I won’t court-martial you.”

Shaking his head to hide his smile, Shermie followed Stan and Lute inside.

#King Stansort is technically a variation of my main Stansort AU #they're basically the same but the timelines are slightly different #with Ford finding out where Stan is much earlier in main Stansort than in King Stansort #I highly encourage y'all to check out my King Stansort tag if you haven't heard of this AU of mine #it's one of my faves. lots of good stuff in it.#(btw if you're wondering why Stan seems not quite as rough around the edges and maybe slightly more polite #esp when he's on the phone with Shermie #it's bc of all those diplomacy things that were hammered into him when he married into a royal family)#King Stansort AU #Shermie Pines #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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chrismerle · 6 years

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i asked @nicxan how down dan would be to make out with shai and she said he’d be stupendously down. so here we are. see, dan is married to alex, and while they’re emotionally committed, the relationship is physically open. shai’s polyamorous, and also has a crush on their best friend. (it’s not subtle at all, but largely because dan’s fucking oblivious so they aren’t bothering to hide it.)

anyway, this was right after the cave of the nadir. in their shared canon, dan did the shit with the missionary and the firebrand, so shai’s reasoning for going into the cave was to forget about the hints they tripped over to mr. eaten’s name.

also more second person practice

(casual reminder that i have a ko-fi)

It’s a good dream. There is wine. And food. The company is bland in that way that most not-quite-real people are, but they know your name and your work and they fawn over you like you’re important. You’re pleasantly tipsy and sort of high off the attention when you run out of honey; the dream fractures and fades and you find yourself on your study’s daybed again.

Danny is waiting for you, sitting on the couch, looking sort of concerned and unimpressed. You’re pretty sure you cause that a lot. You’re only occasionally sorry. Right now, you’re mostly still tired. You get to your feet regardless, arms stretching over your head before you set to pacing.

“Intruding,” you point out blandly. There’s no heat to it.

“Marjorie let me in. And I have a blanket invitation,” he argues. “You went there alone.” He sounds a bit accusatory. Honestly, you might be a little offended. You weren’t completely alone. You had Turritopsis and Beryl with you. And it’s not like you didn’t take his advice, but you aren’t exactly going to let him crack open your journal and read it as proof. Really, shameless you may be, but you do draw the line somewhere, and no one is interested in your ramblings anyway.

“I feel fine.” God, but that is a stupid argument. You know if as soon as it leaves your mouth, and you guess the thought shows on your face, since Danny doesn’t call you on it.

‘I feel fine.’ Really? Oh, yes, truly, you can definitely keep track of whether or not you’ve forgotten anything. That isn’t how forgetting things works. ‘I feel fine.’ Fuckssake.

But still, you’re positive you’ve at least held onto everything important. You know you unfortunately held onto that niggling kernel at the back of your brain that sent you on your expedition. It’s less bothersome now, though. Less like you’re constantly tonguing at a loose tooth. Whether the Cave and its colors rounded its edges, or whether you’re just too frayed at the seams to care, you aren’t sure. You suppose you’ll find out later.

You tip your head back to stare at the ceiling as you admit, “There was something I was chasing off, before my curiosity could get the better of me. Don’t give me that look.” You don’t actually need to look at him to know he’s giving you That Look regardless. Still, it gets something of a laugh out of him. You suppose that’s a success.

But still, he is indeed giving you That Look when you look at him. Like he’s concerned. There are so many other things he could spend the energy on, and you’ll never understand how you wind up on that list as often as you do. You’ve learned not to mention those sorts of things to him. He tends to just give you That Look even harder.

“I’m fine, Danny,” you insist, because it seems like the thing to say. “I think someone would have noticed if I’d forgotten something important.”

He’s still giving you That Look, though, and he mutters what sounds like, “You always do that.” He doesn’t offer to elaborate, though, and you’re not entirely sure you want him to, so you don’t ask. You let the comment pass unexamined.

He catches you by the back of your vest as you pass, and you jerk to a halt.

“What?” It comes out a bit more frazzled than you mean it to as you turn to face him. “What do you want me to say? I’m fine, Danny. I’m always fine.”

He rolls his eyes, and you feel…oddly stung, for just a split second.

“Can you just tell me what was such a big deal that you had to go there, of all places? And on your own?” He pauses and shakes his head briefly. “Just—you could have talked to me about it.”

“I did.” You shrug, keeping the motion bland. “And it helped. But it didn’t make the nagging question go away. And I…reacted on instinct.” You grin, sharp and impish. “We know what my instincts usually lead to.”

He’s smiling finally, twisty and reluctant but you’ll take it.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, and he sounds like he’s finally willing to kinda-sorta leave the topic alone.

“Should I swear on my honor?” You shake your head. “Wait, no, that wouldn’t mean much.” You don’t give him time to protest. “You are such a worrywart. Do you know that?”

“I might worry less if you ever relaxed for more than a few seconds at a time,” he argues, and he sounds amused as he says it.

You hum thoughtfully, tapping one knuckle against your chin as you do. “Maybe I should find a way to relax, then.” You have a terrible idea. “To put your mind at ease.” You already know it’s a terrible idea. “It’s only fair, after all.” Most of your ideas are terrible, after all.

You’re still sort of tipsy. And you’ve sort of wanted to do it for a while. And really, he sort of goaded you. You blame that delightful combination for the decision to catch him by the ponytail and tug his head back—carefully.

You have to stoop to kiss him, and he makes a noise that would be hysterical in any other circumstances. It lasts for only a moment, and when you straighten back up, he’s gaping at you. You can almost find it in yourself to be embarrassed, before you decide that’s really not worth the effort. You settle, instead, for watching him expectantly, the hand in his ponytail instead settling on his shoulder.

He needs a moment to gawk, like some sort of zee-monster. You can wait.

Finally, he comes to his senses, shaking his head and reaching up to grab your wrist. “You—I’m married. You’re—attractive, yeah. You know th—everyone knows that. But it—this—“ He’s gesturing between the two of you now. “This can only be…physical.”

You’re tired. And a little tipsy. And you suppose you’ve left your tact in your other trousers, because you roll your eyes so emphatically you can feel it in your shoulders, and you tug your wrist from his grasp, to instead plant your hands on your hips.

“Really? You don’t say. I completely forgot about your husband. See, the two of you have just been too subtle for me. That aspect of your relationship just never even occurred to me, I’m sad to say.”

And just like that, he’s stammering at you in fits and his face is bright red. It’s a bit endearing, except—ah, yes, there it is. Now you feel like an asshole.

“…Sorry.” You withdraw, turning partially away and pinching your nose between two knuckles. “I’m not having a very good day.” You can practically feel how hard he’s staring at you. Irrational though you know it is, you can’t really look at him just yet, out of some lingering idea that it’s pity on his face.

He takes a few steps, and finally you look, only to nearly jump out of your skin when you find he’s right there. He catches you by the elbows before you can retreat.

“Maybe I can make it better…? Your bad day, I mean.”

You’re pretty sure he means it to sound…suggestive? Probably? But really, he mostly sounds sort of unsure. Regardless, you’re charmed—he’s better at that than you’ll ever let him know—and you find yourself grinning slowly.

“Something in mind?” you ask, because you can never resist teasing him at least a little. He scowls up at you, and with the air of someone trying to make a point, he pushes you back to sit on the bed. Standing between your knees, he gets to be taller than you for a change. He hesitates for a second longer, but you don’t get a chance to take matters into your own hands before he decides to beat you to the punch. Once he tips his chin down, you scarcely even need to lean up to meet him.

It’s…softer than you expected. You are softer than you expected. But there are fingertips sliding along the edge of your jaw and a hand in your hair, and for once you can’t bring yourself to be impatient.

You need to open your eyes when he leans back, though you don’t remember closing them. All things considered, he looks a bit too serious, still.

“We’re not done with…that conversation,” he points out, and he bumps your noses together. “We’re still finishing it later.”

Those sorts of conversations are always so serious, and you’re not really a fan. “…Yeah.” But you’re smiling with exasperated fondness, and for the moment it’s easy enough to simply agree. “Yeah, alright. A conversation for later.”

#fallen london #fallen london fanfic

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galactic-aesir · 7 years

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Dodge This

Or “Three Things Danny Fenton Failed to Dodge in Time”

Rating: Gen Type: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I’m honestly not quite sure Read it on AO3

The students of Casper High stood in awe at the scene in the gymnasium before them. On one side stood the star players of the football team. On the the other were the three losers of the school, none other than Sam Manson, Tucker Foley and Danny Fenton. The name of the game was dodgeball and the incredible thing was that the losers were winning.

The class had started like any other gym class, with Danny changing in the locker room alone and resigning himself to another day of humiliating torture by Dash. When he ran out of the locker room he was pleasantly surprised to find that he’d been picked team leader by Ms. Tetslaff. I mean, sure he was going up against Dash but since he, Sam and Tucker were always picked last in gym they would always get separated. At least now they could play as a team. The teams were picked and the game began.

It was a normal game with both teams losing and gaining players though Dash’s side was clearly winning. It went along, players dodging and catching and dying until the loser trio were left on their side with nearly the entirety of Dash’s team left intact. Most of the out students on Danny’s team assumed a lost but still they watched. At the very least Dash would probably trash the nerd and that would made for a good laugh.

“2 o’clock Danny!” Tucker screamed.

“11!” Sam yelled.

Two balls flew in the air, tossed hard and fast by the star throwers. The red balls blurred moving faster than the audience could react but Danny, with an impressive amount of speed, dodged the balls. The two balls hit the walls on the other side of the court and Tucker and Sam were now armed. The crowd gasped. How did he do that?

Danny grinned, a rare confidence setting in the usually meek kid’s features.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to hit me.”

And so the real game started.

Sam and Tucker stayed at the far end calling whatever attacks they could on Danny (because of course Dash would instruct his team to wipe the smile off of Fenturd’s face and ignore the other two) and moving in for attacks once the ball hit their side of the court. They knocked down A-listers like it was their mission. Sam threw her shots with the same zealous energy she usually reserved for protests. She went for the big players, slinging the balls violently at the opposing team with surprising strength.

“Aw she’s protecting her boyfriend!” someone in the crowd awed.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Tucker meanwhile, would hold onto his shot for longer. What the geek lacked in power he made up in strategy. He went for the weak players, the ones who thought they were safe at the back. He waited for an opening and took it when it presented itself. He threaded the needle between the players and always got his mark. He could almost hear the sweet, sweet “EXP Gained!” jingle at every successful hit.

But Danny, he was the one who captivated the audience--all eyes were on him. His hair wisped in the air as he glided across the gymnasium floor, feet barely seeming to touch the ground as he sidestepped and rolled and dodged out of the way. And he did it grinning, not even breaking a sweat. He moved fast almost seeming to phase through the balls as they passed him by a hair’s width. He joked and laughed, riling up the other team even as he ducked and dodged.

“My grandma throws better than you!”

“What were you shooting at? The moon?”

“No wonder the Ravens lost the last three games! You guys can’t hit the broadside of a barn!”

What’s more is that he eventually began leading the balls to his friends. He’d leave himself open and dodge the ball at the last second and have it come barrelling right into Tucker or Sam’s waiting arms.

The rest of Danny’s team decided to stay on the sideline, feeling they would just end up getting in the way. They cheered and laughed in disbelief. Even coach Tetslaff was impressed! Tucker complained so much during gym you’d believe exercise would kill him. Sam, though athletic, thought the class was pointless and didn’t give any effort in it. But Danny, he couldn’t do a full circuit without collapsing at the beginning of the year and now here he was running and jumping and dodging and wow did he just do a flip like he could do it all day long.

Even Dash’s out teammates were cheering on the losers. The gathered crowd “ooh”ed and gasped whenever Danny dodged or did a feint in order to lead the ball to his teammates. That cinched it for Dash. There was no way he would recover A-lister status if he lost this game. It was time to play a little dirty. The game was never going to last forever.

Kwan went down a little bit too easy but the trio didn’t notice it. They also didn’t notice him move through the crowd and whisper something into Star’s ear.

“GHOST!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Body bursting with the energy and adrenaline usually reserved for ghost fights, Danny ducked another volley as Star cried out. High strung, senses on alert, he stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapped at the noise.

“Where?”

There was laughter in the crowd. Everyone knew Danny Fenton was afraid of ghosts.

Danny tilted his head, a question on his face. He didn’t see Dash winding his arm back. Only when the crowd’s eyes shifted from him did he turn around… right in time to see the dodgeball an inch from his face.

He yelped, the squishy ball hit like a punch to the face and knocked him straight down on the gymnasium floor.

“Haha! Dodge that Fenturd!”

Back in English class, Danny nursed his aching face with a pout. Dash’s suckerpunch left a bright red imprint on his face. It stung, but the giggling a few seats back from the A-listers somehow stung more. He folded his arms over his desk and tried to hide his face, wishing desperately that he could just phase through the floor and disappear. If he wasn’t as keen about keeping his powers a secret he’d actually do it.

He’d been so close to getting one over on Dash too! Oh, well. It was probably for the best, he thought as Mr Lancer came in through the door. After all, a scrawny loser could never be Phantom. No matter how much it chipped at his pride.

The last of the class trickled in and Mr Lancer started his lecture and Danny could follow along for once. Last night he’d somehow managed to, not only, get home before his curfew but miraculously also had time to catch up on his homework. He was still a few chapters behind in Cue for Treason but he found himself actually liking the book. He understood Kit’s situation though his alter ego was a bit more… ghostly in nature.

The lack of ghost he’d faced last night was concerning. It was the calm before some massive ghost storm or whatever nonsense that would surely come to ruin his life in a bit, but for now he’d take full advantage of it.

The class moved on at its regular, dreary pace. Danny took down the notes for the later chapters and Mr Lancer seemed pleasantly surprised to see him attentive for once. He’d even given him a small smile as he passed. Danny was kind of weirded out.

Of course, that was the time a siren began blaring through the intercom and honestly Danny should have expected it because days couldn’t just be normal now could they?

Startled, Danny jumped a foot in the air. His knees hit his desk with a bang as everyone turned to the intercom and listened. What was that? He didn’t sense a ghost nearby and that wasn’t the fire alarm. The students immediately began murmuring about phantoms and ghosts and “not again”s before Ashley spoke up from her seat.

“That’s not the ghost alarm…”

Nods of agreement and worried whispers followed and Danny turned to look at his friends. He shook his head at their silently mouthed “is it a ghost?” They looked worried. Ghosts they could face but something felt off about this.

The intercom buzzed in before they could start brainstorming a way to get out of the class and a calm, automated female voice began speaking. The classroom listened with rapt attention.

“Casper High School is currently on lockdown. All students and faculty members should barricade themselves in their classrooms and wait until an Amity Park official comes to open the door. I repeat,” the eerie voice droned on.

The students were taken back, listening to the warning again because they must have heard wrong. A lockdown? Like, some guy with a gun, here? In Amity Park? That was something for big cities. The students reeled as their teacher swore and dived for the door.

“Everyone! Get to the back wall of the class! Now!” he yelled as he slammed the door shut but a hand came up from the other side and forced it back open before he could turn the lock. Lancer struggled with the door but the man on the other side gave it a hard shove. The man stepped inside and in one smooth movement smashed the butt of his rifle against the teacher’s nose.

The teacher screamed, stumbling backwards and cupped a hand around his bleeding nose. He placed himself between the man and his students, who stood stock still in shock.

All eyes were on the man who just entered. Danny couldn’t help but think the man looked familiar though he couldn’t pinpoint from where. He had unkempt brown hair and a scraggly beard. His eyes were brown, ruling out possession. His clothes looked dirty and worn, like he hadn’t taken them off in days. He probably hadn’t. In fact, Danny could smell the stench from where he stood. But what really had their attention was the large, and now bloodstained, semi automatic rifle he held nonchalantly in his hands. He swept the room with it and the students cowered.

“Everyone back against the wall. Side to side,” the shooter said in a gruff voice. Like gravel and smoke.

“Do as he says,” Mr Lancer said through his broken nose. He didn’t lose eye contact with the man even as he motioned his students to the wall.

The students, still in shock, were motionless. The shooter tipped his gun to the ceiling and fired, raining bits of ceiling tile as broken lights spurted and crackled. It sent them running until a mass of screaming and crying teenagers stood trembling at the far wall.

The man had the audacity to laugh. “Aha, that’s more like it. Move it gramps,” he said to Lancer who was still trying to stay between the shooter and his students. He got a barrel jammed in his chest for his effort and was forced to move. The gunman shoved the teacher to the wall and began walking down the line, breaking up scared groups of friends who were clutched together. Backs against the wall, no talking and hands where he could see ‘em, he instructed. Easier to see if anyone was going to try any funny business.

Danny had caught his teacher’s gaze as he passed. There was a familiar look in his eyes. One that Danny understood too well. I wish I could do more, it said. The boy’s clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

If anyone had bothered to look they might have noticed that Danny, Sam and Tucker had been a bit more subdued than their peers. They’d been in a few too many life threatening situations to not have a level head. Still, they’d never been in a hostage situation before. Their extra credit ghost hunting never prepared them for this. So many things could go wrong. So many people could get hurt. As they were shuffled into place, Danny managed to give both his friends a pointed look. He’d be ready to reveal his powers if it meant keeping everyone safe. They replied with a concerned frown and a nod. They understood, Danny would always put people’s lives before his secret.

The shooter sat on a desk and kept his gun trained on them. He flashed a smile at them, bright white teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights.

“Well, my little hostages. I think we’ll be here for a bit of a wait. Small time police won’t do shit until a negotiator gets here. Which gives me plenty of time to find out which one of you would give me the biggest bang for my buck,” the shooter explained calmly, laughing a bit at his own little joke. Then he pursed his lips, factors adding up in his brain. “Then again, they’ve been looking for me. Might take ‘em no time at all.”

His gaze swept across them critically. He could have looked like he was buying a car, leveraging pros and cons and options in his head. Like chest pieces on a board, finding out which one of them would make the next best move. He’d seen those eyes before. Vlad. Danny had to concentrate and force the green out of his, he was boiling over in rage. Vlad had those same eyes. The shooter wasn’t some crazed madman. This was a man with all his sanity that just didn’t care. He knew that he hurt people and killed people and he just didn’t care. A carelessness and apathy so bone deep that led him to believe that he could play with other people’s lives if he wanted because his goals were more important. The ghost boy wanted to pummel him into the ground.

He could feel Sam and Tucker tense up beside him, they could sense the sudden chill and the lights flickering wildly overhead. It was enough to ground him. To remind him that there were other people here and playing hero might not get everyone out safely. Instead of going ghost, Danny gave the man the hardest glare he could muster and watched him like a hawk.

The man’s gaze finally landed on Dash, a predatory grin on his lips.

“Hey I know you,” he said. “Saw you on the cover of the paper this morning. Star quarterback right?”

Dash couldn’t make his mouth form words so the man continued for him. “Known by most of the people in town I’m assuming. Maybe a bit of a town hero? Paper seemed to think so anyways. High profile. You’ll do.”

The students gasped and Dash backed up farther into the wall, stumbling over his words along the way. Lancer instinctively went to stand in front of his student but the gun flicked to him. The class stilled.

“No funny business Teach,” he said before turning to face Dash, gun still aimed at Lancer. “This is how it’s gonna go down, Dash, is it? When he cops get here, you and I are gonna go out and have a nice little chit chat with them. You’ll be a good little hostage and do exactly what I’ll tell you to do and you won’t open your damn mouth for anyone, got it?”

Dash’s mouth finally started working but what came out nearly got the trio to facepalm out of sheer disbelief.

“I’m not going with you,” he mumbled out. While there was no bravado behind it, it certainly wasn’t what the shooter was expecting.

He barked a laugh. “Relax. I’m not going to kill you. You’re more useful to me alive than dead.”

For some reason that spurred the bully back to his usual egotistical self. He smirked, arms folded and chest puffed out in his typical alpha male stance.

“Ha! You just said that you won’t kill me. So why should I go with you? You can’t do anything to any of us.”

The shooter’s smile fell and a dark looked crossed his eyes. A slow sweep pointed the rifle on Dash. “Never said anything about not hurting you though.”

It happened in a moment but Danny was in front of Dash before the man pulled the trigger. The ghost boy had trained himself to be ready at a moment's notice whenever ghosts showed up, he was ready to bolt the moment Dash opened his big, stupid idiot mouth. The idiot in question flinched behind him and the students cried out as the shot was fired.

Danny had been shot, stabbed, electrocuted and slammed into all manner of walls, buildings and roads but this marked the first time he’d been shot with a regular gun in his human form. It was the worst pain he’d ever felt. Pain erupted from his shoulder like a hot iron, hot and searing. His mind went blank, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move the only thing he was aware was the awful overwhelming pain. He cried out as the force of the blast sent him stumbling into Dash who cried out behind him. Had he gotten shot too?

The thought brought him out of his daze in time to hear footsteps and a hand grab the front of his shirt. He cried out again as the hand thrust him forward and jarred his shoulder. His hand flew up to protect it and he felt blood gushing under his fingertips.

“Aw, thought we’d be a hero huh?” the man said an inch from his face. “Fine then, I’ll show you wha -Oof!”

Danny, face squinting in pain, had seen his opening. He propped his foot on the nearest chair and using that as leverage, pushed upwards into a mean uppercut. The man was sent falling backwards, losing his grip on Danny and his gun. The young boy winced as he landed on his feet. He ran, wasted no time dashing for his backpack only for an iron hard grip to clasp his ankle and send him crashing onto some desks. He cried out as he landed on his bad shoulder and another wave of pain overwhelmed him. He coughed and cried out as the man came up and kicked him in the ribs before going to pick up his gun. A whimper made it past his lips but he plowed on towards his desk.

Danny reached it and yanked the backpack off his seat. His shoulder protested loudly as he began rummaging through it.

“Comeoncomeoncomeon,” he muttered, hand only falling on papers and books.

A shadow moved over him and the boy looked up. It had only taken a few strides for the shooter to reach him.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

Even with his powers there was no way to dodge in time. He twitched his leg upwards as the man pulled the trigger. The near blank range shot tore through his shin and sent Danny howling in pain. Blood and bone fragments splattered but the ghost boy grit his teeth and smiled a grimace. His hand found what he was looking for. With effort, he pulled the thing out of his backpack and threw.

The shooter’s face scrunched up in confusion as he saw the thing. It looked kind of like a grenade, a silver grey ball of metal with blue circles dotting its sides. Anyone in Amity Park would have been able to deduce it was a Fenton Works design. It sailed through the air and hit the shooter square in the chest. As soon as contact was made, metal tentacles zipped out of the blue circles and wrapped itself around the man, immobilizing him. Once he began to struggle the tentacles began gushing a light blue fluid from holes in theirs sides. The liquid solidified almost instantly and before he could react the man was cocooned in the stuff.

The man struggled, his face the only thing that wasn’t encased in the hardened goop.

“What the fuck is this?!”

“The Fenton Phantom Bolas. Patent pending,” Danny quipped through his teeth.

“Danny!”

Sam and Tucker yelled and sprang into action. Tucker shoved desks aside as Sam rifled through her pack for their medkit, it had been a blessing on those few occasions where they’d taken a nasty spill. Gently, Sam placed Danny’s head onto a backpack and her quick and nervous fingers began sorting through the bandages in their medkit. Sam was frazzled trying to find something to staunch the blood. In the end, Tucker sacrificed his shirt.

It was shirtless that Tucker remembered something. He looked back to see the class staring fearfully at the still screaming shooter.

“Hey, um, don’t worry everyone, he’s stuck in there for good,” he piped up shoving a thumb in the shooter’s direction. “Danny got stuck in that thing last week and it took the Fentons two hours to chip him out.”

It didn’t seem to put the class at ease but Mr Lancer trusted the Fentons’ inventions enough to assume it would hold. He ordered his students to stay calm and stay far away from the trapped gunman as he walked over to the trio. It was still nursing his bloodied nose that Lancer knelt besides his most troubled student.

“Canterville Ghost! Daniel, what were you thinking? Ms Manson, pass me that medkit.”

“Aha, is that a trick question?” the teen grunted as Lancer and Sam began dressing his wounds. Sam was secretly glad Mr Lancer was there to guide her. Her heart was pounding in her chest and a lump formed in her throat at the sight of so much blood on her best friend. They had never been too badly injured during their ghost hunting. Danny made sure to take most of the hits and his weird ghost constitution tended to absorb the damage like a sponge, leaving human Danny drained but physically unharmed. Their ghost hunting and high school level first aid did not prepare them for gunshot wounds. She calmed her breathing and did as Lancer instructed.

Tucker, sensing he’d only get in the way of Lancer and Sam decided he had a score to settle. He got up, went to Dash’s gym bag and began ruffling through it. The stunned football star barely gave a complaint as Tucker pulled out his sweaty gym socks. The geek marched over to the shooter’s trapped form, still screaming insults and threats and some rather indecent jeers at the teenagers at the far end of the class. He stopped as he saw Tucker walk up. What he said didn’t bare mentioning but Tucker smiled through it. Sure, he didn’t have super powers but that didn’t mean he couldn’t avenge Danny in some way. He took the socks and shoved them into the man’s mouth.

Tasting jock juice, the man immeadiately began to gag. He struggled to spit the horrid thing out but found himself unable. His face reddened with effort and he began screaming his head off. Barely a mumble came out.

Someone giggled and another joined and then another. Then the entire class erupted into a hearty laughter at the sight. Lancer and Sam looked up from their ministrations and joined in. Tucker saw Danny shake with silent laughter and give him a thumbs up. And though everyone was still reeling from shock and trauma, the horrible tension that hung overhead was lifted.

“Nice one Tuck,” the injured boy rasped as Tucker came to his side again.

Tucker offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Danny looked awful. He was hard to look at, covered in blood and half formed bruises. He was pale from blood lost, skin nearly reaching his ghostly tint and it did nothing but accentuate the semi-permanent bags under his eyes leaving him looking hollow. Every shallow breath drew out a small whine, his chest heaving his effort. He looked haggard and small. Fragile almost. Tucker was rattled at the thought of his best friend dying for a second time in front of him. His vision blurred as he latched onto Danny’s wrist to feel the pulse underneath.

Blue eyes snapped up to meet his gaze, then travelled to Sam who carried a similar worried expression, her eyes watery and lips trembling.

“Stop,” he paused to breath. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Look at you like what?” Sam asked softly.

“Like I’ve already got a foot in the grave.”

There was a pause. The corner’s of Danny’s mouth twitched up.

“DANNY!”

Before stretching into a full shit eating grin. He wheezed out a laugh as his friends groaned besides him, mortal peril completely forgotten. It hurt to laugh, every laugh jostling his wounds and ribs, but it was worth it. He couldn’t help himself, not with that perfect of an opening.

Mr Lancer looked lost.

“Was that a joke Mr Fenton? You’ve been shot and you’re making jokes?”

Sam spoke up before Danny could say another ghostly-alter-ego-comprising pun, “Danny says jokes when he’s in shock.”

“‘M not in shock.”

Sam gave Mr Lancer a pointed look.

“I’d be more surprised if you weren’t Daniel,” the teacher said getting up. “I’ll go get help, we can’t wait until the police come to open the door. Are you three sure he can’t get out?”

The trio nodded. Danny hissing in pain as he apparently forgot he’d been shot.

“Stop moving!” Sam scolded him.

“Do whatever Ms Mason says Fenton. Tucker, help Dash out with his wound,” he said to the trio then turned to the rest of the class. “I don’t want anyone antagonising Mr Durlopp here. Stay calm, I’ll just be stepping out to call the police. Do not leave this room. Star, you’re in charge.”

Their teacher took off but the students were put at ease. If the teacher was barking orders then everything was under control. Tucker brought Dash to Sam’s side to fix his wound, seemed like the bullet went right through Danny and embedded itself into Dash. The bully was looking at Danny with an indescribable expression, emotions mixed and unsure.

“You took a shot for me. You got yourself shot with a bullet to protect me. Me,” he said lamely.

Danny smiled, small and genuine and relieved. “All in a day’s work.”

Daniel James Fenton rested peacefully on the hospital bed, or rather, as peacefully as he could with a neck brace, a catheter and the steady, slow beep beep beep of the machine monitoring his heartbeat. It had been a long day.

Danny had fainted sometime in between getting put on the gurney and the ride to the hospital. He’d only woken up after the surgery to a distressed family. His mom and dad were crying tears of joy and it took every ounce of their self control to not just jump up and hold their boy and make sure nothing ever happened to him ever again. It was a bit embarrassing, how much they fussed, but Danny was too tired to put up the angsty teenager act. He cried along with them and held their hand with his good arm because it was all he could do with his left arm and neck immobilised. He didn’t even have the energy to cringe as his sister kissed his forehead, eyes brimming with relief and tears and worry. His parents switched between yelling at the shooter, yelling at Danny for doing something so stupid and beaming with pride.

They fretted and doted after him as the doctor explained his condition. Danny couldn’t follow the ten mile long medical terms though Jazz certainly listened attentively as the doctor droned on about nearly missed axillary arteries and blood loss and bradycardia. Jazz and mom could explain him the technobabble in layman’s terms some other time. One thing he did hear was “extended rest period” and boy, did that sound good.

But before he could sleep he needed to know what happened and his parents and sister were more than willing to give him the whole story. He’d been too out of it when they’d wheeled him around the school property on a gurney but the combined forces of the local police and national SWAT team had the school surrounded. Apparently the shooter, named Stanley Durlopp, was an escaped criminal with multiple charges of murder and armed robbery under his belt. He’d escaped from a prison bus after his trial and had made his way to Amity Park after an extended manhunt. The coverage had been playing everyday for weeks on every news channel but Danny, too tired from his ghostly encounters, hadn’t paid all that much attention to the bulletins. The man had been at the end of his rope and figured a risky hostage situation might get him the clean slate he wanted but now the police now had him in custody, all thanks to Fenton Works and Danny’s quick thinking.

Meanwhile, the school had been shut down for the day and the next. Principle Ishiyama had decided to let all the students and the faculty spend time with their friends and family as they dealt with the trauma of what could have been a grave episode. Only Danny, Mr Lancer and Dash had gotten hurt. They’d both been in the ambulance behind Danny. Mr Lancer had his nose rearranged properly though he’d have a crooked nose for the rest of his life and Dash got the bullet extracted from his shoulder. It hadn’t gotten far, barely went through a quarter inch, but he’d still needed stitches for it. Sam and Tucker hadn’t gotten hurt but they hadn’t been able to visit him either seeing as the only visitors allowed to see him now were immediate family. Thankfully, Jazz ferried messages between the teens. She let them know that Danny was safe and reassured her little brother that they would all hold down the fort while he recovered.

After learning that everyone had made it out alright and that the day was saved (and would continue to be saved), Danny finally let himself get hit with the full exhaustion the day had brought. Or it might have been the painkillers and sedatives. But either way he was sore and tired and drained by the time his family were ushered away by the nurse. A distant and enthusiastic “goodnight son!” from far down the hallway brought a smile to his face.

It didn’t take long after that for him to fall asleep. His ghost fights left him emotionally and mentally drained but this physical, human hurt was a different kind of exhaustion. His body felt heavy and cumbersome and his eyelids drooped and dropped, unable to fight the sleep his body desperately needed. He slept without dreaming, snoring softly. His doctor had said he’d be tired for a few days due to the massive amount of blood he lost and how it was best to sleep and rest for as long as he could.

The doctor hadn’t taken ghostly stalkers with a grudge under account though.

Danny shivered as he slept, cold fighting off the sedatives, and he woke up seeing his breath. He couldn’t move but he spotted the eerie glow of a ghost outside the hospital window. Outside of it, Skulker was looking at him with a perplexed expression which fixed itself once the hunter noticed his prey was awake. He phased through the window and peered at him.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here whelp?”

“Skulker. Here for my pelt again I’m assuming?” His tone was flippant and flat. If anything the boy sounded annoyed.

Danny knew he should have been scared, helpless as he was, and it might have been the painkillers but he just couldn’t be bothered by it. Even when the ghost slowly loomed over him, taking in the massive amounts of machinery plugged into him.

“I was,” the ghost said with that same echo he’d come to associate with the Ghost Zone. “But now I’m curious.”

Figuring it might get the ghost out of his hair Danny started.

“Some guy came into our school and tried to take our class hostage. Then an idiot opened his big mouth and got the guy mad. I took the shot for him,” he waved at himself with his good arm. “And here I am.”

The ghost seem to ponder Danny’s multiple wounds, no doubt filling out the rest of the story that Danny skipped over. He floated in place near the foot of Danny’s cot.

“Did you capture him?”

Danny puffed a laughed. “‘Course I did.”

The ghost shook his head, “You are a worthy opponent, ghost boy, but your morals make you weak. Look at you, you’re utterly helpless!”

He scoffed and made to phase back outside.

That got Danny's attention. “Hey where are you going? Aren’t you going to, you know, try and kill me and put me on your mantelpiece?”

Skulker laughed. “I can’t possibly hang a pelt with so many injuries on them! It would be unsightly, not to mention the mark it would put on my reputation! No, ghost boy, I hunt you for the thrill of the sport. You’re no use to me like this. I guess I’ll just need to wait until you heal to hunt you again.”

Before he could say anything the specter flew away with a final “until next time whelp!”

Danny was, to put it mildly, horribly confused. What was the guy’s angle? He was definitely faking. That macho laugh at the end there wasn’t fooling anyone but what could he be hiding?

He mulled it over for a bit but the exhaustion won over in the end. Besides, he thought as his eyelids drooped further and further down, Team Phantom could deal with whatever mischief the ghost had planned for now. Content that Amity Park was still safe, he fell asleep.

Danny was cleared for release the day after. The doctor explained to his parents that he wasn’t allowed to do any strenuous activity for three weeks and they recommended bed rest for the first week. Though the doctor said that knowing full well that it probably wasn’t going to happen. When she had walked in that morning to check up on the teen and she’d found that his friends had somehow gotten past security and were racing down the hallway in the boy’s wheelchair. The boy's father, because the parents had walked in at the same time as the doctor, had whooped with the kids and suffice to say the whole lot of them had been banned from touching the thing. At the very least the doctor hoped his sister and mother would get the boy to stay out of trouble. Exciting morning aside, the boy did perk up when she ordered bed rest, looking at her like she’d just given him the world. Maybe there was hope for his recovery after all.

Back home in his bed, the ghost boy was ready to get a head start on that week of sweet, blissful sleep but of course he had hovering parents and a worried sister to deal with first. Their concern was endearing but now that he was home and safe he thought they were going a little overboard with the whole overprotective shtick.

Once they’d been fended off for the time being, Danny finally got a ghost report of last night. Sam and Tucker and Jazz found that there hadn’t been that many ghosts out. It seemed nothing changed much from the previous days though it was still concerning. Hopefully the dry spell would last until he’d healed up.

They all left eventually. Sam and Tucker left to spend time with their shaken parents. Jazz left to find some psychology books at the library that she would no doubt use to psychoanalyze Danny for his latest misadventure. His mom and dad eventually left for their nightly ghost patrols and locked the door behind them. With no distractions or noises he slept peacefully, glow in the dark stars on his ceiling finding their way into his dreams.

Up until a sound exploded near his head.

He woke up with a start and a yell. The noise was unbearably loud, right at his ears, and he nearly popped the stitches in his neck as he turned to see what it was. He let loose another yell at the sight of the scene before him.

“What are you doing in my room?!”

“What’s it look like I’m doing, sugarpop?” Ember smiled and licked a few amplified notes on her guitar that sent Danny’s ear ringing. “Playing you a lullaby.”

She grinned and tore another rift, laughing like a chorus as she floated up higher to the ceiling. Danny clamped his hands over his ears, pain and noise blossoming into a headache. He did spot the amplifier though and stretched out of his bed to unplug the rock star's guitar. The “music” still played.

“Aw, you didn’t like that song? How ‘bout his one!” Another heavy punk rift blasted over the amplifier.

“No use ghost boy!” Technus shouted over the “song”. “I’ve upgraded it! Wireless! The way of the future!”

Danny’s head snapped to where the ghost was hunched over his console.

“Hey! That thing’s already broken, don’t make it worse!” he yelled, then paused. There were much more important things to yell about. “What are you even doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he boasted loudly, and man he really wasn’t helping that headache either. “We are here to disrupt any chance you have to ‘heal’”. Then we will be free to take over the world without you glitching up our plans!”

Something about that statement jumped out at him.

“We?” he gulped, desperately hoping he was right. “As in ‘I, Technus and Ember’?”

Ember smiled evilly at him. “No way, Danny boy. We’re all here. How ‘bout you come join the party downstairs?”

She hooked her arms around his chest and phased him to the kitchen. It was pure chaos. Pure, unbridled chaos.

The Lunch Lady was making a mess of his mom’s kitchen, little green demon boxes were chopping down on whatever Box Ghost was throwing at them, Kitty and Johnny were doing donuts around the coffee table in the living room. There was Youngblood jumping on the couch, Cujo chewing on Dad’s armchair, brainless ecto goop monsters racing around the house and some skeletons playing ping pong on the kitchen table with one of his parents’ inventions.

“What?!” Danny almost popped a vein and definitely popped some stitches, his voice climbing octaves as his hysteria rose. All these ghosts, almost everyone he’d ever fought, in his house and he didn’t even have his ghost powers. There were no words for the deep fear he felt as he watched them thrash his house.

Johnny came over and drove his motorcycle in circles around him.

“Surprised, punk? What do you think would happen after Skulker came back with the news?” he laughed. “Party at Phantom’s house! And you can’t do anything to stop us!”

“And we’re gonna make sure it stays that way!” Kitty laughed as Johnny revved his motorcycle and began driving on the walls and ceiling, angry black tire tracks left in his wake.

Danny took a shaky step forward and would have fallen over if Shadow hadn’t come out of nowhere and scared him, sending him tumbling backwards into a chair. It hovered in the air before seating him at the kitchen table. Lunch Lady set a bowl of… something in front of him. It was green and it boiled from within.

“Of course not!” the old lady shouted, green and monstrous, at the biker. Her voice and face turned sweet when she faced Danny. “We’re here to help you! And everyone knows chicken noodle soup is the best way to get better. Besides, you’re thin, boy. You need some MEAT on you!”

As she ranted one of the boiling bubbles burst and a tiny little ghost came out of it screeching. It floated into the ceiling and disappeared.

“Ummm. No thanks,” he said getting up.

He tried to fight them off, he truly did, but he limped on the set of crutches his mom left on the table and could never get to them quick enough. They’d just float up to the ceiling and keep doing whatever horrible, messy thing they were doing before. He wasn’t even a minor inconvenience to them like this! Some just floated around laughing at him and when he finally decided he’d use his parents weapon it was only to discover that the Box Ghost had already fed them all to his stupid feral boxes. He’d even taken the damn phones! A red blush crept up his face as frustration built up inside his chest. His stitches stung, his ribs and leg ached and he was just so goddamn tired. With every jeer and insult he felt himself getting closer and closer to losing it, until the feeling of helplessness swelled inside his core. The lights flickering around him went utterly unnoticed by the teen.

“ALRIGHT! THAT’S IT!” he yelled, finally having enough. He smashed his crutch down on the linoleum floor, punctuating his words. The ghosts turned their heads, finally paying attention to him. “I have two weeks where I don’t have to deal with any of you! Just two fucking weeks where I can sleep in peace! That’s all I’m asking for! So stop messing with me and GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Every door and drawer in the house slammed shut at his words, though the ghost boy didn’t notice it. His eyes were blazing green and every ghost in the house felt the sheer power behind his half-formed shout.

A pause. A picture frame fell off the wall.

“Does that mean we can’t prank your parents?”

“Ghost Zone! Basement! NOW!”

Surprisingly, all the ghosts seem to deflate at that and started moving towards the basement. Huh. He didn’t think that would have worked. The Box Ghost sighed and tossed one of his parent's invention over his shoulder.

“No wait!”

The ghosts paused on their way to the portal to watch the chain reaction unfold. The invention hit the floor and fired an ecto beam at the ceiling. It ricocheted off the non-ghost surface and began ping ponging between the walls. The ghost skeletons cheered and resumed their game as the ghost boy tried to stop them, the beam hit the skeletons and they were sent careening away. Lunch Lady’s stew went flying and sent ghosts running only to knock into the feral boxes who spat out their contents into the air. All ghosts managed to dodge in time but the ghost boy, still on crutches took the brunt of the kitchenware and gadgets and was sent sprawling to the floor.

Pain exploded in his shoulder and leg once again. Danny whimpered and threw off the whisks and ecto guns off of himself, each toss sending another wave of pain until he collapsed back onto the floor. He was so sick of feeling helpless in front of his enemies. Shame burned at his eyes.

“I just wanted to sleep!” he yelled.

“You want?” said a voice.

Danny opened his eyes. Desiree. Oh no.

“Enh, well, close enough.”

“Nononono wait!” She snapped his fingers.

And Danny went out like a light.

The ghosts had themselves a good laugh at the expense of the snoozing halfa. Kitty and Johnny grabbed him and floated him up to his bed, Ember trailing behind strumming a low bass version of Rock-a-bye Baby. Technus had finished fixing Danny’s busted console by the time they tucked him in. Lunch Lady came up and set a real bowl of chicken noodle and ginger tea on his bedside table and the Box Ghost made sure to clean up the mess they’d made downstairs.

Because, yeah sure, he was their enemy. The pesky little half ghost kid went around using his powers for good and got into everyone’s way. But for all their fights, he’d also been the most fun any of them had ever had since dying. So yeah, they’d tease him and not hold back the next time they fought but, for now, a truce. As much fun as haunting humans was, little Phantom getting in their way was so much better, almost as good as living.

Danny would wake up unsure of what happened the previous night. He’d wake up to popped stitches and a clean house. His console would be working and his parent’s gadgets would stop targetting him. Journalists would refuse to go near the house and his mom’s soup would be amazing for once. His room would even be tidy though he was sure it wasn’t when he went to bed last night, or was it?

Later still, he’d gaze at his bedside table and at the numerous thank you and get well cards sitting on top of it and notice something off amongst the gifts though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The new ghostly plants and green-and-yellow plushie would go unnoticed for weeks.

#Danny Phantom #fanfiction #gravityfallsaugalore #Danny Fenton #This thing sort of escalated #Danny Gets Shot #Don't worry he's fiiiinneeee #His enemies are sort of nice to him for once?#apologies for any oocness

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