Chapter Text
Grief enshrouded him like an early morning fog; heavy and hazy, clouding the mind with a nebulous pervasiveness that left him wondering how he’d fallen so deep into the clutches of its counterpart, death. Death, who bordered the outskirts of Danny’s life, ever present, ever watching.
Danny had countless things to grieve, but to dwell was to remain stuck in the past, and one thing Danny had to do was keep moving. Moving cities, moving states, moving forward - just keep moving. He couldn’t let the GIW catch up to him. No matter what.
Danny stepped off the bus, lugging his backpack over his shoulder. He took in the landscape surrounding him. Tall buildings littered the city’s skyline, hidden beneath a veil of mist that hung heavy around the tops of bridges, clinging to countless gargoyles.
The bus hadn’t ventured too far into Gotham; its violent reputation proved far too risky for out-of-city transport, leaving travellers on the outskirts of the city to make their own way into the hellscape.
Danny tightened his grip on his bag, which contained his remaining possessions, and made his way into Gotham. He’d been dropped off somewhere in the lower-middle section of the city, just beyond the bridge, near what he presumed was Gotham’s Chinatown, based on the colourful stalls and fragrant aromas heavy in the air, cutting through the city stink.
It was different from Amity Park, where the area was more residential than industrial, greener where Gotham was urbanely gothic. He tried his best to blend in with the architecture, merging with the darker pockets seamlessly.
Drawing attention to himself would be stupid, so incredibly stupid, especially in as volatile an environment as Gotham. Sure, Amity Park hadn’t particularly been gentle breezes and smooth sailing, but Gotham was different. Her buildings were gritty, and her inhabitants even grittier. Even the air seemed hostile. But hostility was nothing new for Danny, and the constant flux of Gotham’s ecto-atmosphere was perfect for someone like him, someone who needed to hide.
He made his way into a rather shadowy alley, which honestly wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had. Unzipping his backpack, he quickly took inventory of what he had left.
A half-eaten granola bar, two unopened ones, a bottle of water, a green quilted jacket, and $47.82. Oh, and a toothbrush, equipped with a half-squeezed dollar store toothpaste. Homelessness didn’t excuse dental hygiene, he thought wryly. After defeating King Dan, Danny found his gums to be more sensitive, aching at odd hours of the night.
He could’ve sworn he felt a tooth wobble.
This was dismal. Danny frowned – he was worse off than he thought. He had no means of communication, though that was probably for the best. Dragging himself across America from Illinois to New Jersey was a pitiful fate he’d wrought upon himself. To bring Sam and Tucker, or Jazz, along with him would have been unforgivable.
Despite that, he mentally ran through their contact information. Numbers, emails, and addresses were all drilled into him by his mother, who had seen fit to impress upon him the importance of staying connected. Now, what she had once deemed a necessary lesson haunted him, rattling around his skull as he self-tortured himself with the knowledge that all it would take to hear their voices again would be a phone call.
So, he deprived himself of the means. Without a phone, he was less likely to give in to the temptation coursing through him. Without a phone, he would be less likely to let the longing lift the words of regret from his lips. Less likely to set his parents off on his trail and hunt him down, like hounds sniffing out a fox.
He quickly zipped up his bag and started walking again. No point lingering in some dingy place where, with his rotten luck, he’d find himself in an even more unfavourable position.
Danny would have to locate the nearest library to research some local support systems for homeless teens. The only problem was he had no idea where the nearest library was, and daylight was fading fast. He’d managed to wander through to a more populated area, the bright lights illuminating the bustling streets. He debated asking someone, but anyone who wasn’t buying or selling walked away quickly with their heads down.
Danny spotted a couple of newspapers and posters plastered on a brick wall and moved closer to get a better look. Buried beneath a few missing pet posters, Danny saw several somethings resembling a geographic drawing.
Hope fluttering in his chest, he gently peeled back the glued-down layers, prying out what seemed to be a small, thin leaflet.
It read GOTHAM U: WE WANT YOU! on the front, with a cheesy picture of some college kids smiling broadly on the front. The leaflet was disturbingly generic for a place like Gotham, but what good was a university with no students to attend?
He flipped the leaflet over and almost jumped with delight. Some small amount of good luck had finally broken through the horrific streak of bad, and he saw the map that had initially caught his attention. It was a localised depiction of upper and lower Gotham, alongside Chinatown and Old Gotham. It pointed out the university with an obnoxious “you are here!” sign. Whilst it was nowhere near an exhaustive account of Gotham City, it was more than enough to get him started.
Danny allowed himself a small smile at this moment of fortuitousness, before setting his mind to his next task. It was already sunset and according to his newfound map, the library was a little further than he expected. It would be difficult to reach on foot before it closes, and he wasn’t quite ready to brave a new public transport system on his first day in town.
Danny figured he could sequester away in some abandoned building or rooftop for the night before making his way to the library tomorrow.
Finding a place to occupy for the night, Danny was thankful that his period of homelessness had struck him during late spring. The weather was beginning to warm, though Gotham seemed to carry a perpetual chill, and the idea of not having to spend the night out in the brutal winter lifted his spirits.
He would have to find more stable shelter by the time the cold came around, but an old building would do just fine for tonight.
He sized up what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse complex. Danny estimated he was somewhere between lower Gotham and the financial district and looked at the dank, decrepit infrastructure. It was brutally urban, lacking the softer shapes and curves of Amity Park.
It felt cold - different from all those ghosts he’d encountered. More so, it felt empty, which was perfect for his current needs.
Danny hesitated before phasing in. He had tried his best to avoid using his abilities since leaving Amity, not wanting to risk drawing unwanted attention to himself or giving away his location. Once, early after he’d left the Fenton’s home, he’d been caught on a hidden traffic camera, phasing through a woman’s purse. He had been desperate for money, food, anything and had been too lax with his surveillance of his surroundings.
After that, the GIW had been hot on his trail, following him in a panicked frenzy, his parents at the head of the force. Danny vowed from that moment to never use his powers for his personal gain if he could help it. How quickly he shed the skin of a hero and devolved to petty pickpocketing to satisfy his avarice.
All it revealed was everything Danny knew to be true. Everything his father had whispered harshly into his ear the last time they spoke.
That Danny was no hero, he never was. All he was, all he’d ever be was collateral damage. A sacrifice to the hunt.
Nothing more. Never anything more.
Danny decided to find an alternative route. He took some steps back and spied a fire escape. After some wiggling, Danny found himself in his new abode for the night. Laying down his jacket and using his bag as a makeshift pillow, Danny rested his head to sleep, though he knew it would evade him.
These days, sleep was a commodity, and one Danny could rarely afford.
More often than not, he’d close his eyes and lay there, running through his roll of memories on repeat. And the times when sleep did find him, he would be more likely to jerk awake, heart pounding and hair curling at the base of his neck from nightmare-induced sweat, than sleep through the night despite the bone-deep tiredness he carried with him.
He’d still try though. He’ll never stop trying.
***
He could feel their gazes burning into his skin, the harsh fluorescents beating down on him. Hazmat-covered bodies circled him somewhere, out of sight, but the knowledge of their presence was enough to set him on edge.
The room was cold. The hard, medical gurney he was lying on left an odd ache in his back. He could hear the clatter of instruments. The air felt thick and viscous – had they pumped something into it in an effort to restrain him?
Danny could feel his lungs constricting, his alveoli narrowing, blood vessels tightening. He was going to die in this godforsaken room, under the discerning eyes of his parents who were more watchful now than they had ever been in his childhood.
He licked his dry, chapped lips, “Please,” he whispered.
His voice came out cracked and brittle, whether that be with thirst or desperation, Danny wasn’t sure.
He tried again.
“Mom. Please I-” Danny paused. He didn’t really know what he was begging for.
A figure moved closer into his field of vision. Danny turned his head as far as he could, trying to keep the person in his sights. He could tell from the enormous build alone, it could be no one other than his father.
“Dad, Dad, Dad. Please look at me. It’s just me, Danny. Your son.”
His father replied without turning. He’d always been more vocal than Maddie.
“My son died the day we opened that portal.”
Danny felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, which would have been an astonishing feat considering he was laying horizontal but was so distracted by the words Jack had spoken. He could feel an almost burning sensation taking over, consuming him from the inside out. In just nine quick words Jack had essentially disowned his only son.
In his parents’ eyes, Danny Fenton was dead.
All that remained was something inhabiting his shell. Maddie moved to join his father, and he looked into both their eyes now. He could see that they didn’t view him as their child, a boy of sixteen whom they’d raised in their home with as much love and tenderness as they could manage.
No, all they saw now was a ghost. The phantom.
And at that moment, a realisation crept up on him; Danny Fenton was dead for him too.
***
He turned over on his substitute bed, desperately reaching for the water he’d stashed away, trying to quench the thirst that had followed him from his dreams.
Rays of sunlight peaked through the chipped paint, a sad attempt at blocking out the windows of the dusty building.
Danny gathered up his belongings, and quickly made his way out. Staying too long in one place made him nervous. He still noted down the location of the building in case he ever needed to return - he’d found it was always better to prepare where he could.
Circumstances, in Danny’s experience, tended to take a turn for the worse.
He determined that it was roughly mid-morning and made his way towards the library.
***
Danny had eaten his remaining half of the granola bar on his journey across Gotham, but that didn’t stop his stomach from making the most obnoxious growling sound when talking to the librarian.
He could feel his cheeks burning. The young man, slightly older than Danny perhaps, tall with dark skin and even darker eyes, smiled politely at him.
“So, you’ll just need to head around the corner and then you’ll see the computers. Honestly, they’re hard to miss.”
The man – Duke, according to his name tag – bent down and wrote the guest user ID on a neon pink post-it. He held it out for Danny to take, smile impossibly widening even further.
Jesus, this guy was like sunshine personified. He attempted to smile back, pulling back his dry lips to show off his teeth in what he hoped was a passable attempt at a friendly smile.
“Thanks, dude.”
Duke’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and his smile seemed just a little more strained.
Danny figured his smile was probably more deranged than disarming. He hadn’t had a lot of practice these past three months, sue him. Deciding to put them both of out of the misery of this increasingly awkward encounter, Danny walked through the library to the computer section.
The library itself was fairly empty, albeit ridiculously gothic-looking. This city was crazy hardcore about sticking to its themes, huh? The computers themselves seemed to be in moderate condition, slightly outdated and clunky but evidently still functional.
Danny sat down at one, immediately logging in and searching up Amity Park on local news outlets.
Nothing.
Well, nothing about ghosts. There were plenty of mundane articles about local charity events and school fairs. Speculations about which music festivals may be visiting the area that summer.
Boringly ordinary.
Danny sighed. No news was good news, right?
He opened a new tab, this time searching for information about Gotham. Local shelters and kitchens for the homeless, as well as what free clinics may be available.
The Martha Wayne Foundation, funded by the resident conglomerate Wayne Family, supported various charity initiatives. One of the Martha Wayne Homeless Centres was located closer to the east of the city, bridging between Old Gotham and ‘Crime Alley’. The name didn’t sound particularly appealing to Danny. ‘Crime Alley’ sounded like something lazy out of a bad comic book or action movie. However, if there was anywhere he could stay and not be found, it would be the ‘Crime Alley’ of the most notorious city in America.
With his new location decided Danny decided to peruse the local vigilantes. From his own stint as Danny Phantom, Phantom Ghost King: protector of the innocent, butt-kicker of rogue ghosts (as Tucker liked to call him), Danny was well aware that not everyone who claims to be a hero is one.
He had some knowledge of the Batman and his Robins - who didn’t? The man was infamous for cycling through them like used tissues or something. He and Jazz looked into the Batman as a possible Ghost or even a liminal like them.
“Come on, you’ve heard how he practically melts into the shadows. Tell me it doesn’t sound like someone else we know.”
She levelled a pointed look at him.
“Honestly, Jazzy, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He laughed, “God forbid, a man has hobbies- oof!”
Jazz snorted as the pillow she launched connected with his head.
“Shut up, dummy, and help me look into this.”
They hadn’t gotten very far though. Soon after that, Danny had been on the run, and any reminders of researching vigilantes with Jazz or goofing off with his friends quickly became too painful to ponder on.
“You’re a fan?”
Danny whirled around. His heart stuttered in his chest. A woman with glasses and red hair sat in a wheelchair, one eyebrow raised as she smiled softly at him.
For a moment - just a moment - she looked glaringly similar to Jazz.
He looked closer at her appearance, noting down the differences to reassure himself that she, indeed, was not his sister who’d tracked him down to some creepy library in an even creepier town.
The woman’s hair was more auburn than ginger, her eyes leaning greener than Jazz’s tealish-blue. They lacked the slight tinge of ectoplasm that would have been barely visible to anyone not liminal, but to Danny shone like a beacon in the night. Her overall appearance from the slope of her nose to her more rounded ears calmed Danny.
It suddenly felt easier to breathe at the knowledge that this was just some random ginger-haired woman.
She coughed lightly, her brow furrowing when her eyes passed up and down over his person. No doubt she was taking in the thin layer of grime that clung to him no matter how many gym showers she snuck into, and his well-worn clothes that clearly had seen better days.
“No, not so much a fan,” Danny replied, “just trying to get some research in. Y’know for a school project?”
The woman smiled. “A school project?”
“Yeah, you ever heard of one?” Danny snarked. He didn’t need people poking around any more than he needed a three-piece hot pink tux.
The woman laughed, “My name's Barbara. I’m head librarian here. If there’s any way I can help with your,” she paused, pushing up the rim of her glasses, “research, then let me know.”
Danny looked her over once more; she didn’t seem outwardly hostile. Rather, she appeared to have a genuine interest in helping him. Danny relaxed slightly, yet something persisted in his mind to stay careful, stay wary of this woman. Her assessing eyes belied a certain intelligence to them. Barbara didn’t even give the impression she was doing it on purpose.
He nodded, “Sure! I’ll let you know if I do. Thanks for offering.”
She smiled again, moving her arms to wheel off.
Danny quickly logged off, leaving the library to head towards the shelter. He didn’t want to lose out on a place after travelling all the way there.
As he passed by the front desk, Barbara called out to him again.
“Hey, I just wanted to give you this before you left. You seem like you’re new to Gotham.”
Danny turned, looking down at her outstretched hand. She was holding some sort of welcome pamphlet.
“Take it. It has basic info on the rogues. Might help you out with that research you were doing.” She winked, before carrying on, “Plus it’s better to know all you can about safety procedures and such. You wouldn’t want to be caught in an unpleasant situation.”
Oh, if only she knew the unpleasant situations Danny had found himself in before.
Instead, he took the pamphlet, plastering an embarrassed expression on his face.
“Damn, was I that obvious?”
“Your accent gave you away,” she said, “Gotham’s pretty distinctive.”
Danny laughed, “Yeah, I noticed. Thanks for this, by the way.” He raised a hand to the back of his neck, trying to amp up the sheepishness. “I’m pretty new. It’s definitely been a change.”
Barbara looked up at him, “Well, if you can I’d suggest getting out. You here for long?”
Danny could feel himself beginning to panic. He’d never been a good liar. It was a miracle he’d kept his secret as long as he had.
“Considering my dad just moved us out here for a new job, I probably won’t be leaving anytime soon.” Danny lied, before angling towards the exit again. “Wish me luck!” He joked, walking out without waiting for a reply.
Barbara’s expression was a touch more solemn than before. “Good luck,” she said quietly.
Danny still heard her.
***
Later that day, after the library had shut for the day, Duke made his way towards the small office on the first floor. Light was pouring through, though Barbara cast a large shadow on the wall from where she sat at the desk, typing on a computer.
He’d texted her earlier, during his volunteering shift when he’d assisted Danny, asking her to check him out if she got the chance.
“Hey Babs,” he started, “did you manage to meet that kid?”
She looked up, her hair shifting over her shoulder when she maneuvered to face him.
“Yeah, I did.” She tapped her finger on the edge of the desk, chipped nail varnish glinting in the warm, dim light. “I think he was lying. I don’t know what about, but something was definitely off.”
Duke spoke up, “Look, I know it’s weird, looking into a random civilian but I’m telling you, he was lighting up my ghost sense like a disco ball.” He paused, “He has to be some sort of meta or something.”
Babs hummed, “I can’t say for certain whether he was gifted or not, but his story didn’t seem to add up.”
“What do you mean?”
“For starters, he looks like those kids we see in Crime Alley,” she gestured with her hand, “you know like he’s seen things.
Who in Gotham hadn’t ?
“Maybe it’s a case of neglect or abuse, considering his clothes and appearance. The kid looks like he’s seen better days, for sure.” She ran a hand through her hair.
Duke interrupted, “He mentioned a father though, which suggests he at least has some place of residence.”
Babs looked at him, questioning silently.
“Sorry,” he explained, “I might have eavesdropped a little.”
“You were hiding behind the bookshelves, weren’t you?”
“Hiding? I was just stacking books, Babs. Being a good library assistant and all.” Duke replied grinning.
Barbara snorted, “Sure, whatever you kids call it these days.”
Her tone lost its humour, turning pensive, before she continued, “Duke, realistically speaking, there’s nothing more we can do unless he comes back to the library.”
“Can’t you track him down using your Oracle-ness.”
“Being Oracle isn’t some superpower I just turn on.”
Duke winked, “Come on, Babs. It practically is and you know it!”
She smiled, “Flattery gets you nowhere, Thomas.”
“But you’ll still do it, right?” He said.
Sighing, she turned back to her computer, “Tell you what, I’ll look into it for you when I have some free time.”
He let out a little whoop of triumph.
“Now, get out of here,” she laughed, “I’ve gotta log on for patrol.”
“Thanks, Babs!” Duke replied. “This is why you’re my favourite!”
“I’m everyone’s favourite.” She snarked.
Duke left Babs to her Oracle-ing, knowing she’d need her full concentration to watch over Gotham and its vigilantes.
In the meantime, he tried his best to put the guy out of his mind. His ghosts were some of the craziest he’d seen in a while, barring the metas on the Justice League.
But Duke kept that to himself for now. Until the kid proved a threat, Duke wouldn’t treat him as a hostile.
Everyone deserved a chance. At least one.