#and i SOMEHOW keep pulling through. literally failed two modules last year and STILL got a 2:1 average

[hella1975]

ive got an essay due at 3pm tomorrow and ive not even looked at it i am so so unserious about my degree and by the grace of some higher being i somehow keep managing to crawl through it's actually getting a bit funny

[andromedasstarship]

faceless, nameless - chapter 2

photo credit - unknown 

pairing - kylo ren x reader

warnings - canon-typical star wars violence, torture, fighting, angst. 

summary - You took a moment to examine this guy and that’s when it hit you, FN-2187, a stormtrooper was wearing Poe’s jacket and you could’ve sworn you saw red.

blog rules

a/n - i dont claim any ownership over dialogue pulled directly from the films :) this chapt is like 3.5k so buckle up!!! 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here 

chapter 1 // next chapter 

-----

the stars

Present Day 

Starkiller Base. 

A few months ago, you had given everyone on base a lesson in First Order torture techniques. Personally, you thought it was a rather pointless activity, knowing full well that none of them would ever be even slightly capable of standing up against Ren. Poe blabbed on about ‘hope’ and ‘they need to be able to find comfort’ and other random ‘good guy’ optimism nonsense. At the end of your lesson you stressed that the best chance they had of keeping their mouth shut was to find a memory- a good one-, and latch onto it as tight as possible until the Order was finished with them. 

Poe was really glad he talked you into giving that lesson, seeing as your advice had helped him withstand the past few hours of near constant torture at the hands of the Order. Various troopers and officers had come and gone, all failing in their attempts to extract what he had done with the last piece of the map to Skywalker. 

Around hour three his body began to give out and all he could think about was how you certainly hadn’t been lying in your constant complaints about how cold Starkiller was. As he faded into unconsciousness, he silently prayed you weren’t having a full blown breakdown and that BB-8 had somehow managed to find you on Jakku. 

When he woke again, no clue how much time had passed, he was greeted with a deep modulated voice from the other end of the room. Ren. 

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board.” Ren stated, voice flat. “Comfortable? 

“Not really.” Poe responded, voice equally as flat. Behind his mask, Ren was staring quizzically down at him. Ren was more than used to the feelings of intense hatred that his prisoners projected towards him- if anything it was the expected response-, but there was something so different about the emotions Poe was projecting, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was so... personal. 

“I'm impressed, no one has been able to get out of you, what you did with the map.” 

It didn’t take a genius to know what was coming next. Not bothering to respond, Poe started to slip back away into his happy memory. In his mind, you were there, back turned to him but he could still hear you laughing as the two of you ran through the field by his childhood home 

He was forcibly removed from the memory when Ren reached outwards, slamming Poe back against the chair, with the Force. “I see.” Ren said darkly, twisting his hand ever so slightly, watching in enjoyment as Poe began to strain against the pressure building in his brain. 

Poe’s mind was panicked, trying in vain to hide the memory of you, but it was too late, as Ren had already caught the tail end of it. 

“Is it a girl that holds the last of the map Dameron?” Ren taunted, forcing his way deeper into Poe’s mind. 

Poe’s face was scrunched up in agony, desperate in his attempts to shield your identity from Ren. Ren mistook the admirable struggle as proof that it was this girl who held the key to the map, rather than Poe’s personal attempts at keeping you safe. Ren continued his mental assault, breaking down every mental wall Poe tried in vain to put up. 

A flash of your masked face. Ren was getting closer. 

Then there it was, you- unmasked, no disguise-, staring up at Poe in his memories. 

Poe in his panic started thinking of every single thing he could- what he ate for breakfast before he left, the color of his favorite shirt, the list of chores he had to do on base-, anything to try and divert Ren from you. 

It was like time stopped, the mental probe retreated only for an instance before Ren was back in Poe’s head with a new unrelenting force, pulling up Poe’s most recent and clear memory of you. 

“I don’t like the idea of this.” You said quietly.

“Have I ever let you down Princess?” Poe said with a grin. When that didn’t seem to amuse you, he put a hand on your cheek, angling your face up towards him. “Three days, I’ll see you on Jakku then. I promise.” 

And then the memory was gone. 

----

Jakku. 

It had been two years since Poe and blondie- you later learned his name was Leokai-, had stumbled upon you bleeding out in the sand. Adjusting to Resistance life had been difficult and for months you thought you’d never gain their trust. It wasn’t until you had accompanied Poe to a Resistance ‘recruitment’ meeting and noticed a First Order operative slinking around the crowded room. You had quite literally dragged Poe as far away from the building and off the planet in a matter of minutes, effectively saving him from giving a ‘we’re right here’ speech directly to the Order. After that, the general opinion about you among Resistance members turned positive. 

You still donned a disguise for their safety, lest their mind was ever blended up by Ren. It was incredibly simple, a well designed wig and different colored contacts. Natural enough that you’d never attract undue attention, but still enough that unless Ren had specific intel to look for this version of you, he’d never double check a fleeting memory that might include you; luckily no one had been unfortunate enough to test this theory. During any official Resistance business or battles you donned a plain white mask that wrapped securely around your face. 

When you first got the mask, you and Poe had had a field day with it, trying to figure out how much movement it could handle before falling off; Leia had actually caught the two of you trying to tie yourself to Poe’s X-Wing to see if that would finally get the thing to move. 

All in all, life with the Resistance was treating you pretty well. Except for right now, as you anxiously waited for Poe in a small nondescript ship on the outskirts of the Niima Outpost in Jakku. Poe, you had quickly learned, was one of the biggest idiots you had ever met. You weren’t exactly sure how he had talked you into splitting up for this mission. Splitting up was never a good idea, how had every horror HoloNet show not taught him that already? But Poe had made an undeniable point, the First Order- the Knights of Ren specifically-, were hot on his trail for the last piece of the map to Skywalker and you couldn’t risk being caught up in that fight. 

So, you agreed to split up. But Poe was late.  Late enough to warrant the uncontrollable worrying. Ever since ‘the incident’ you had developed a horrible case of ‘abandonment issues’; everyone reassured you it was a perfectly reasonable response, but you hated it, the complete lack of control over your own brain drove you nuts. You were pacing back and forth, doing your best to calm your nerves. Wherever Poe was, for his sake, you prayed he had a damn good reason for being late. Knowing that you were full of nerves,  Poe had even given himself a very wide arrival time so you wouldn’t worry. But here you were, worrying . 

Unable to wait around any longer, you decided to gear up and make your way to the outpost. If you were lucky, maybe someone had seen him or maybe you’d even find him yourself. You pulled your hair tight to the back of your head, clipping it in place, before sliding your mask on. As you headed out the doors of the ship you grabbed your staff, slinging it around your shoulder. A year ago, you managed to finally access funds that you had left behind on your home planet. Not only did it help purchase a lot of life saving supplies for the Resistance, it also meant you were able to buy and build a brand new staff for yourself. It wasn’t as advanced or sleek as the one you used in the Order, but it did the job just as well. 

The trek to the outpost would only take less than an hour, giving you adequate time to try and calm your nerves. You made a list as you walked, you made a lot of lists these days, having found it greatly helped in controlling your anxiety. 

Poe was just a bit lost, his sense of direction was never as good on the ground as it was in the air. 

Poe was being his charming self and chatted up someone a little too well and lost track of time. 

You still had your ship and if he wasn’t back by the end of the day you’d be going back to D’Qar and putting together an official search party. 

You struggled for a solid fourth item, but by then you were just reaching the outpost. It was loud and dirty and unlike anything you’d ever been to before. No one gave you a second glance, which you were grateful for. As you made your way through the many stalls you were growing more and more antsy, none of the people you saw being Poe. 

Nearly two hours had passed and you had thoroughly walked through the entirety of the outpost, not that there was much, at least ten times. Just as you were about to turn around and head back to the ship, a familiar shade of orange and beeping caught your attention. You almost fell to your knees in relief when you saw BB-8. Except he wasn’t with Poe, but rather a...scavenger girl? It was like BB-8 could feel your eyes on him, because he turned around to look at you and began beeping excitedly. The girl beside him turned to face you as well and without thinking you got a better grip on your staff and ran at her. 

The girl’s face morphed in confusion, but quickly put together what was happening and got her own staff into position, giving you one last look before she turned and started to run as well. Her hesitation and your own speed meant you easily caught up, swiping at her legs which sent her topping down. She hit the sand hard, not letting it stop her as she rolled to her back and instinctively pushed her staff upwards, expecting yours to come down. 

What she definitely didn’t expect was the electrical end of your staff, on and buzzing, pointed straight at her face. 

“You stole this droid.” You hissed. 

Before she had time to respond, BB-8 was rolling up to the two of you, beeping like hell. It was a funny mix of ‘I’m so excited to see you’ and ‘please don’t hurt this girl’ and ‘I’ve got so many stories to tell you’ and ‘I promise this girl did not steal me’ and other random beeps. He was talking so fast and your head was still clouded with adrenaline, so it took you longer to process what BB just said. As soon as you realized the girl hadn’t just not stolen him, but rather saved him, you turned the electrical current off and pulled your staff away from her face. 

You stuck your hand out, glad she was unable to see the look of pure embarrassment on your face. “I um, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have chased you like that, I just saw BB and…,” you trailed off, unsure of how to explain yourself. 

Luckily, the girl grasped your hand and lifted herself off the ground. “I would’ve done the same, I think.” She replied, giving you a tentative smile. 

You still had so many questions unanswered, but before you could say anything BB-8 started beeping like crazy again; saying something about how he could see a man up ahead-staring at the three of you-, that was wearing his master’s, Poe’s, jacket. 

Not bothering to apply any of the lessons you had just learned from storming the girl, you switched the electrical end of your staff back on. A quick look at the girl told you she had the same idea, both of you getting better grips on your staffs. Both of you took off in a sprint towards the man and you  almost  felt bad for him- you were clearly taking him by surprise, the way his eyes widened like saucers-, but he was wearing Poe’s jacket. 

His attempt at escaping was short-lived. The girl swung out in front of him, shoving him to the ground- quite similar to what you just did to her-, and you quickly took up the rear, positioning the electrical end right at his throat.  

Everyone was breathing heavily, no one had expected to do so much running today. You took a moment to examine this guy and that’s when it hit you, FN-2187, a stormtrooper was wearing Poe’s jacket and you could’ve sworn you saw red. You pressed the tip of your staff to his chest, not enough to seriously hurt him, but enough to send a shock through his body. 

“I’m only going to ask once,” you started, glaring up at him from behind the mask, “where, did you, get that jacket?” Punctuating each pause with the lightest of electrical taps. 

“Ow! Ow! Quit that! I’ve had a pretty messed up day, alright? I’d appreciate it if you stopped accusing me-” 

“Liar!” You yelled, putting the end back in his face. “You stole it from his master,” you said, tilting your head towards BB-8 who was beeping in agreement, “I’ll give you one more chance to answer honestly.” 

FN-2187 raised his hands up in surrender. You studied his face for a moment, searching for any signs of deception; there weren't any, but that explained nothing. “I swear! I swear, his name is Poe. That’s right? Poe Dameron.” 

At the sound of Poe’s name your shoulders relaxed a little bit, but the relaxation was short lived as you FN-2187 continued. 

“He was captured by the First Order.” 

No. 

“I helped him escape okay, but we crashed a little further out,” FN-2187 was silent for a moment, “Poe didn’t make it.” 

No No No No No No No No No. 

“You’re…, you’re lying.” You said angrily, unable to accept that as truth. When all FN-2187 did was give you a look full of  pity, you hit the switch on your staff, pulling it back to your body. “You’re lying…” You repeated, much weaker this time, glad that they were unable to see the tears forming behind the mask. 

“I’m sorry. I really am.” FN-2187 said quietly, in a voice that was just the right amount of sincere to be true. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw BB-8 start to roll away, you couldn’t let him get lost now. “If you even, think, about running away while I go get the droid, you won’t live to see another day.” You threatened, quickly turning on your heel to go catch up with BB. 

In your absence, the girl and FN-2187 were both still quite winded. At least you had gone into the outpost knowing there was potential for action, the two of them were completely caught off guard. 

“Are you with the Resistance too then?” The girl asked. 

A fleeting look of confusion appeared on FN-2187’s face before he jumped up and nodded. “Yes, yes I am. I am part of the Resistance. A Resistance member.” 

“I’ve never met a real Resistance member before. And now in one day, I’ve met two.” The girl replied, with a gentle smile on her face. 

By the time you managed to get BB and ‘drag’ him back to where the other two were standing, they had finished their conversation. FN-2187 tensed up when you reappeared, something you were okay with, not wanting him to feel too comfortable around you. 

No one had time to say anything before the sound of blaster fire diverted all of your attentions. A quick look up at the sky confirmed your one of your worst fears, the First Order was here. FN-2187 grabbed both of your hands and started pulling.

“Don’t grab my hand!” You and the girl both shouted out, but running alongside him anyway. The three of you weaved your way out of the Outpost, doing your best to avoid the unrelenting fire of bullets and bomber shots the Order was raining down on you. 

“They’re gunning for me!” FN-2187 screamed, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“They’re gunning for all of us, especially the droid. Now keep up!” You yelled back. It didn’t take much mental strain to understand that if Poe had really been captured and had really crashed on Jakku after escaping, that the Order would’ve followed him here. Your feet pounded the sand, pushing yourself ahead of FN. 

“We can’t outrun them!” FN-2187 called out from behind you. 

The girl was ahead of you and she pointed out towards a quad jumper. “We might! In that quad jumper.” All of you running towards it as fast as you could. 

Of course, as soon as the words left her lips, the TIE fighter tailing you blew the thing to smithereens. All three of you seemed to pause for a moment before the girl started running towards a hunk of,- oh my god was that the Millenium Falcon-  junk to her left. 

“Hey! We still need a pilot!” FN-2187 screamed, still running a few paces behind you. 

“I can pilot anything!” You yelled out, not bothering to look at him over your shoulder. The three of you, plus BB, raced up the walkway of the ship, slamming the door shut behind you. 

“Gunning position is down there.” Rey said hurriedly, pointing at a set of stairs. She didn’t look back as she rushed ahead to the pilots seat. 

Just as FN-2187 got ready to mount the stairs you grabbed him by the back of Poe’s jacket and yanked him around to face you. 

“Not the time-”

“If you do anything down there to make me believe you’re still working for them, FN-2187, I won’t hesitate to come down here and gouge your eyeballs out myself.” You spat, relishing in the way his eyes widened at the use of his official call number. You didn’t give him the chance to reply, just let go of his jacket and made your way to the front of the ship to co-pilot. 

The girl was already pulling the ship into the air by the time you made it up there. You wasted no time, quickly throwing yourself into the chair beside her. Both of you fumbled to pull on headsets as you worked the controls. “Stay low.” You ordered. 

She gave you a confused look. “What?” 

“Stay low,” you said more urgently, “it confuses their tracking.” 

The girl went low and you were glad you were strapped in. You didn’t expect the smoothest of rides, but it was certainly  jerky . 

The constant sound and feel of blaster shots hitting the exterior of the ship were making it difficult to focus. “What are you doing down there!” You screamed into the headset. “Shoot back!” 

“I’m trying,” FN screamed back up, “are the shields up?” 

You blindly reached over and smacked a button. “Yes! Now shoot !” You yelled. 

Where FN-2187 was lacking, the girl was making up for it tenfold with her piloting ability; this girl was good. Internally, you knew you were being unreasonably hard on him; it wasn’t so far fetched to believe that someone would defect from the Order, hell you defected- even if it wasn’t necessarily your choice-, and your position and relationship to the Order had been much more intimate and substantial than a ‘trooper. Pushing those thoughts to the back of your head, you focused on helping the girl pilot the ship. The two of you working in unison to attempt to shake the TIE’s trailing you.

“Hold on!” She shouted and in the background you could hear FN asking what for. The girl pulled on the steering hard and you went veering to the right before she rolled the ship around, giving FN the perfect shot at the last TIE. You internally promised yourself, that if he missed this fighter you’d be fulfilling your eye gouging promise. Luckily for all of you, but especially FN-2187, he blew the TIE fighter right out of the sky. 

“Wooo!” In the rush of the moment, you weren’t exactly sure who was whooping and hollering, it might as well have been all of you. 

Once you felt the ship was out of imminent danger and safely gliding through space, you relaxed back into your seat. Looking over at the girl you smiled, even though she couldn't see it, you hoped she was able to read the emotion from your eyes. You think she could, by the way she smiled real big back at you. 

She stuck her hand out and said, “My name is Rey. The guy downstairs said he’s Finn and he’s with the Resistance too.” 

-----

a/n - im having so much fun with this yall dont even know. likes/replies/reblogs always appreciated and if youd like to be tagged just ask! 

taglist: @egguuuu​ @sunflowersandotherthings​ @clarizuliani10​ @kylorendrip​

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own star wars or any of the character involved in it. 

[d3-iseefire]

@strictlynofrills​ - Here you go! I’ sorry it took so long! I was writing it on work breaks and after I got home! hope you enjoy it! :D

"Look out!"

Bilba barely had time to register the words before a short, hyperactive blur darted across her path. She sucked in her gut and twisted, simultaneously lifting the two full trays she'd been carrying in each hand.

As she did she crouched ever so slightly, trying to keep her movements as fluid and seamless as possible. On the trays two full glasses wobbled and Bilba tensed. Then they settled and she let out a slow breath in relief.

A smattering of applause came from a handful of patrons and Bilba took a careful, partial curtsey in gratitude. A few feet to the side, the small boy that had nearly caused her to trip had the good manners to look embarrassed. "Sorry."

"That's all right," Bilba said, keeping her voice modulated and soft. "Let's just leave the running for the playground in the future, okay?"

He nodded and resumed his trek toward the bathroom, still moving quickly but no longer in a full out run.

Bilba shook her head, struggling to ignore the way her legs wobbled beneath her, and resumed her trek into the restaurant's dim room. She'd never particularly cared for mood lightning before but was grateful for it today as the bags under her eyes were especially dark and makeup had done little to cover them entirely.

No one wanted  a waitress who looked like she'd stepped out of a zombie movie.

She wound her way around glass topped wooden tables and chairs wrapped in plum colored leather, navigating pushed out chairs and sprawled personal belongings with ease.

Many of the tables were occupied with regulars and she greeted each with a bright smile as she set down appetizers, entrees, desserts and drinks. Quiet, relaxing music played over the low, steady flow of conversation and she saw more than one female guest slide off uncomfortable looking heels to sink sore toes into the plush carpeting.

Shire had been designed to be both upscale and cozy. Patrons could expect a high-class experience, but one where they also felt comfortable and relaxed. It was a place to bring a date, hold a business meeting, or just come and relax over a glass of wine after a long workday.

It'd be a perfect place to sleep too, Bilba thought, gazing with longing at the padded booths. She sighed and forced her eyes away, focusing instead on a familiar figure in a darkened booth at the back of the restaurant. Bilba saved him for last, in the hopes of being able to spend a minute or two speaking to him. As she sat his plate down he smiled up at her fondly. "And how are you doing tonight, my dear?"

Bilba glared at him. "Don't give me that, Gandalf."

The elderly man raised an eyebrow innocently. "Is there a problem?"

"You know darn well there is." Bilba gave into her fatigue just a little and slid into the booth across from him. Her head was pounding with the promise of a headache and she had that all over ache that was her body's way of telling her she should have gone to bed days ago. It had become almost a part of her over the past year and there seemed to be no getting used to it no matter how much coffee she drank.

She lowered her voice to a low hiss, not wanting to disrupt the other guests. "You didn't tell me everything about the new maitre d'."

The older man's other eyebrow slowly raised. "Did I not?" He lifted his wine glass and took a sip. "I'm certain I was quite thorough."

Bilba's glare deepened. Gandalf was an old family friend, and also one of the most prominent lawyers in the city. He'd been the one to convince her that trying to run Shire completely alone, filling the role of owner, manager, and maitre d' was simply insane. He'd offered to find her someone trustworthy and reliable to help with some of the workload, and she'd reluctantly agreed.  

A few weeks later he'd brought her a name. Fili Durin. Bilba had recognized the last name as belonging to the past owners of Arkenstone, an internationally known, high end restaurant. At its height people were making reservations a year or more in advance and, those lucky enough to get in and actually afford something, would be guaranteed to find themselves in the midst of the world's most famous and powerful people.

The last Durin owner, Thrain, had made a series of increasingly bad business decisions that, ultimately, had resulted in a hostile takeover by Smaug Drakestone. He was the owner of Drakestone Barbecue, a retail federation of chain, fast food restaurants. The day he'd taken over, he'd turned Arkenstone into the flagship for his chain, much to the public outcry of the culinary world.

The Durins, driven into near bankruptcy according to rumor, had faded from the public eye and gone unheard of by anyone for years, or at least before Gandalf had held up that slim file. Bilba had been impressed with his education and degree in both culinary arts and hospitality but had been far less enthralled with his lack of experience.

When she'd pointed that out to Gandalf the man had simply chuckled. "Are you sure you're the one to be making that judgement, my dear?"

The words had brought a flush of red to her cheeks, as well as an ego check. Bilba had never wanted to work in the restaurant industry and had taken little interest in Shire as anything more than a way to get free gourmet food whenever she wanted. She'd been going to school for a degree in creative writing when...everything had happened.

It had been a trial by fire for her, trying to learn what she needed to know to ensure her parent's dream didn't die with them, and there were certainly days where she couldn't say for sure if she was sinking or swimming.

Most days she was pretty sure it was the former.

"What the boy lacks in experience he makes up for in passion," Gandalf had said gently to ease the sting of his prior words. "Much like someone else I could name. Give him a chance. I have a feeling you won't be disappointed."

Bilba had agreed, trusting the other man to not steer her wrong.

It was a decision she both loved and deeply regretted at the same time.

"Has the boy not been doing a satisfactory job?" Gandalf asked now, brows pulling together in concern.

"On the contrary," Bilba mumbled. "He's done an amazing job."

More than amazing, really. Fili was the first one in and often the last one out. He manned the front desk, managed the staff, kept schedules up, and still somehow managed to learn the names of their patrons as well as their likes and dislikes. He had the uncanny ability to gauge a person's personality after a few seconds of speaking to them and organized the seating to ensure people were not seated next to personalities that would clash with their own. Shire's approval scores had gone up over 15% since he'd started, and the pressure on Bilba's shoulders had gone from crippling to simply overbearing.

Hell, she'd been averaging almost five hours of sleep a night, not taking into account this past week when Fili had been gone.

"Well," Gandalf asked in confusion. "If that's not the problem, my dear, then wha--"

His voice trailed off as a presence fell over them. Bilba felt her gut clench. Oh no. She'd forgotten he was supposed to be back that night.

"Ah, Mr. Durin," Gandalf said cheerfully. "What a pleasure to meet you again."

"The pleasure is mine," a familiar bass said and Bilba's insides literally begin to do a full on, Olympic style gymnastics routine. Bastards. "Miss Baggins--"

He didn't get a chance to say anything else as Bilba jumped to her feet, planning to...do...something...only to feel her hand smack into the tray she'd set on the edge of the table when she'd sat down.

The one she'd collected a few empty dishes and sets of cutleries on, intending to take it back with her.

In almost slow motion she watched as the entire tray flipped off the edge of the table. The loud clatter of knives, spoons and forks hitting the ground ripped through the serene atmosphere of the dining room, along with the unmistakable shattering of glass as the carpeting failed to save the three plates and near empty soup bowl as they impacted.

Most restaurants had tile floors for just such situations, Bilba found herself thinking irrationally as she watched the remnants of dark liquid soak into the tan covered fibers. Her parents had liked the carpet, insisting it gave a homier feel to the place. They hadn't minded having to deep clean the carpets on a near weekly basis to ensure they stayed looking their very best.

Bilba minded, very much. Particularly since, as of late, it had all been thanks to her that they needed to be cleaned to begin with.

Total silence fell over the restaurant, and Bilba felt her face catch fire. She focused on Fili's shoes, the black leather marred by drops of soup, and her heart sank.

"Sorry." She started to drop to her knees, only to stop as his hand closed lightly over her arm to stop her.

"Careful," he said mildly. "You don't want to kneel in broken glass."

Bilba's eyes flicked to his really intense, blue, eyes and an almost electric charge surged right through her. She straightened, fighting a wave of dizziness, and focused on the ground. It was the only way she could to avoid noticing his dark blond hair, or chiseled features, or the way his body filled out his suit -- and, really, who the hell decided maître d's had to always wear suits? Okay, so it wasn't like she minded, much, but she was like five seconds away from having a heart attack at any given moment so that was a problem and -- what was she doing again?

Oh, right, broken glass and humiliation and he was still touching her.

She jerked her arm free with a nervous laugh that she prayed didn't sound borderline hysterical or insane like it did in her head and knelt more carefully.

To her surprise, he knelt next to her. For the first time, she noticed he held the tray in his hand and she realized she hadn't heard the loud clang of it hitting. "Did you catch that?"

"An acquired trait," he said dryly, as he picked up utensils and the larger bits of broken glass. He sounded amused, or at least Bilba hoped he did.

He stood, and Bilba rose with him, closing her eyes this time and breathing through her nose to try and keep her feet. Fili handed her the tray with no small amount of trepidation. Bilba focused on broken bits and pieces of dishes on the tray and, before she could embarrass herself farther, spun and returned to the kitchen, past one of the other servers who was already headed to the area with a vacuum to finish cleaning.

***

Fili watched the young woman until she vanished through the swinging doors of the kitchen. She looked exhausted. She normally looked exhausted, but far more so tonight. Mentally, he kicked himself for having stayed away so long. He should have tried harder to get back earlier.

He sighed and turned back to the booth. He completely ignored the roar of the vacuum as it made quick work of the remaining broken glass and, around him, the rest of the room slowly followed his lead and returned to their own meals.

Once the clean up was finally done, he flashed a smile at Gandalf. "As I was saying, it's good to see you Mr. Grayson."

The older man looked positively delighted by something, and Fili's eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to figure out just what it was.

From the kitchen a second, loud, crash rang out and Fili closed his eyes, counted to five, and then opened them again. "I'm almost afraid to see how much we lost the last five days I was gone."

"I have a feeling you'll find it to be nothing at all," Gandalf said with amusement. "Bilba happens to be the best waitress Shire has."

Fili raised an eyebrow. "Is she?" he asked doubtfully.

"Indeed," Gandalf said. "In fact, she took over your place while you were gone."

There was the slightest hint of censure in his voice and Fili nodded with a grimace, remembering again the deep bags under her eyes. "My grandfather passed away unexpectedly and the funeral was out of town."

He'd been worried over even asking for the time off, funeral or not. He'd e-mailed, believing he could sound calmer and more professional, or at least that's what he'd told himself. In reality, he'd been cringing at the thought. He'd been there a month and was already asking for four days off? He'd expected his request to be rejected out of hand but, to his surprise, the response had been there when he'd awakened the next morning, granting him a full week off, with pay.  

"I wanted to thank you," he said now to Gandalf, "for taking a chance on me. I'm in your debt."

His entire family was. It had been a struggle after...everything had happened. They'd needed jobs, and fast, whatever was available that could keep them from losing the last few things they had. Fili had managed to get through college on grants and scholarships, hanging everything on his uncle's conviction that, one day, Arkenstone would rise again. His mother had been against it, having never loved the restaurant to begin with, but Fili had been raised hearing about Arkenstone and his uncle's dreams had quickly become his own.

It was only recently, very recently, that they'd had the luxury to begin thinking about the culinary and restaurant world again. Fili was the first to get a foot through that door, and the hope that had flared to life on his uncle's face upon hearing the news had made every moment of school, and every late night so far at Shire, worth it.

"While I'd like to take credit for it," Gandalf said. "It was Bilba who ultimately took the chance."

"Yes," Fili's eyes flickered toward the kitchen where the silence was beginning to worry him. A working kitchen was no place for someone as exhausted as she clearly was. "In any event, I'm grateful to you both."

"So it would seem." Gandalf's eyes narrowed in contemplation, and then he nodded toward the kitchen. "What do you think of Miss Baggins?"

Fili frowned. "She needs to take better care of herself," he said without hesitation. "She's no good to anyone, least of all herself, if she's near dead on her feet."

Again, a flash of guilt raced through him. Part of the reason he'd been hired was to take the burden off her. He made a mental note to work even harder to make up for the extra load she'd had to take on while he'd been gone.

"She cares deeply for her parent's legacy," Gandalf said. He seemed about to say something else but thought twice about it, and simply gave Fili a slight smile.

Taking the hint, Fili nodded and took his leave, not wanting the man's food to get cold.

He spent the rest of the evening managing the room, speaking to guests and politely ignoring the flirtatious grins of at least three young women. Once the last customer had left he oversaw clean up and closing, before walking several of the female servers out to their cars to ensure they weren't harassed in the parking lot. Security was on his mental list of things Shire could use but he hadn't felt it was his place to suggest it just yet.

Bilba hadn't reappeared since the incident earlier so, after he'd locked the front door, he headed toward the back hallway. The door to the main office was shut but there was a light shining out from underneath.

He hesitated, and then knocked lightly on it. When there was no response, he cleared his throat and said, "I just wanted to thank you for granting my time off request and assure you I don't plan to abuse the privilege. I know you took a chance on hiring me, and I intend to make you happy you did."

He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. Happy you did? Mahal, could he be anymore cringey? He started to say something else, decided he'd said enough already, and nodded at the closed door. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

Mentally, he hoped she was in there taking the opportunity to catch up on sleep. He personally doubted it, but one could always hope.

***

On the other side of the door, Bilba stared down forlornly at the glass of wine she'd knocked over when Fili had knocked on the door. She hadn't realized anyone was still there so late, let alone him.

Talk to him, her internal voice had scolded as he spoke. It's not hard. Just open your mouth and say something. Preferably not inane. Or cringey.

That thought unfortunately conjured the memory of before he'd gone on vacation, when she'd managed to spill and entire pot of, thankfully, cold soup that had been on its way to being thrown out. On him. She'd managed to spill it, on him. Then she'd gone back to the larder to get some more...something...and walked in on Fili mid shirt change.

"Sorry," he'd said, with a low swear as she'd stumbled to a stop. "The only other place is the bathroom, and I didn't think patrons seeing the restaurant's maître d changing would be that professional."

Bilba was pretty sure the sight of him without a shirt on would cause a minor health crisis, but it would probably have not been the most professional thing to say.

Her eyes seemed to superglue themselves to his chest and, as much as her mind screamed at her, they were determined to stay just where they were.

Look away, Bilba's voice had screamed at her as her eyes had laser focused on his chest. Look away! Or better yet, leave!

She'd done neither, because she was a walking HR complaint, and he'd cleared his throat and slowly pulled his shirt closed.  

"Do you need something?" he'd asked and it had taken a lot for her not to tell him that, yes, she needed him to take his damn shirt back off.

Bilba groaned as the memory faded, along with Fili's footsteps as he walked away from the closed door.

She was a terrible boss. She wasn't her parents, or her grandparents before them. She had no training in how to run a restaurant, manage payroll, balance books or anything. Gandalf had helped her as he could, but he had his own business to run. He'd recommended she hire a new team after the old one had up and quit but she'd been hesitant to try. She literally knew nothing. If she chose the wrong people, they could literally destroy Shire, run it into the ground, steal it out from under her and she'd never known until it was too late.

Still...she chewed on her lower lip absently.

Gandalf had recommended Fili and, in the short time he'd been there, he'd been a godsend. Okay, he also looked like a god, which was not helping her heartrate or her supplies budget but, really, he'd taken such a massive burden off her just in the jobs he'd taken up.

She'd recognized it all over again in the week he'd been gone. When suddenly it was up to her once more and the full, crushing weight, had fallen back on her. She was so tired from it that she'd started crying on three separate occasions for no reason.

She didn't want to go back to that, wasn't sure how she'd done it for a year, and now she found herself desperately wanting to continue on the track she was on. To have less pressure, less work, more ability to sleep, or relax or enjoy...anything that wasn't work related.

She'd been mulling, just a little, about the rest of the Durin family. She remembered the stories, how one of the Durin children had nearly managed to save Arkenstone, would have in fact, had Smaug not swept in and cut it all out from under them. The whole family had been involved in the business, from childhood in most cases, and if even a fraction of them were as talented as Fili was...

She chewed on her lower lip and then opened her email. She'd hesitated to do it while he was gone at his grandfather's funeral, but perhaps now? She might not be able to talk to the man without tripping over herself, but she could at least email him, right?

Hopefully.

Dear Mr. Durin,

She paused. Was that too formal? It was probably too formal.

Dear Fili --

Nope.

Mr. Durin,

She sighed, deleted the email and closed the laptop lid. If she couldn't even figure out a salutation there was no reason to go any further. She crossed her arms and dropped her head on them with a groan. She was freezing cold in spite of knowing the temperature was perfectly temperate in the building, and she felt ill.

She was exhausted, in over her head, and couldn't even speak to her own damn employee.

God, she was pathetic.  

***

Fili didn't see Bilba when he arrived for work the next day. The light was still on under the office door, however, and he found himself hoping she hadn't been there since the night before. He had no idea how the girl managed to run the restaurant, work a shift and take care of the rest of her day to day life.

Then the memory of the deep bags under her eyes from the night before hit him and he realized the answer to his question of how she did it was probably simple. She didn't.

As he took up his position behind the front desk he snagged the attention of one of the other servers, an older woman named Carla. "Hey, is it true that Bilba ran the desk while I was out?"

She nodded. "She did it before you were hired too and did a fantastic job of it if I may say so. Only hired you because Gandalf convinced her to get someone before she passed out from exhaustion." She sent a concerned look toward the back office. "Girl takes far too much on her own plate. Her parents had a full staff, but she does it all by herself."

Fili frowned. "What happened to the staff?"

Carla huffed in annoyance. "Most refused to work for someone young and inexperienced, a couple others claimed it was too hard to work here without Belladonna and Bungo, as if it were a piece of cake for Bilba to do it." She shook her head. "Assholes, the lot of them."

Fili found he quite agreed. He settled into his role as the doors opened, and fell into an easy rhythm, one that wasn't interrupted until the sound of shattering glass from the bar signified Bilba had left her office.

A hand patted his and he raised an eyebrow at the elderly woman he'd been checking in. She was one of their regulars, coming in almost every day to simply enjoy the company of others. "You know, young man," she said in a voice shaky with age, "you really should do that poor girl a favor and take her out already."

Fili's eyebrow arched higher. "I beg your pardon?"

The woman nodded toward the bar. "Poor thing only gets shaky when you're around, you know." She patted his hand and winked at him from under her hat. "She's a good girl. Not like those hooligans that live across the street from me with their loud music."

She nodded again and wandered past him. Her companion, a man a few years older than Fili's uncle, smiled after her with affection. "Don't mind, Mother. She likes to play matchmaker from time to time is all."

Fili chuckled. "I don't mind at all, Sir. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your seats."

The man nodded, and Fili led them to their table. As he returned to his desk he hesitated, and then deliberately veered toward the bar where Bilba was picking up a tray. It was ridiculous, he thought. She didn't get nervous simply because --

Bilba glanced up, spotted him and proceeded to drop the drink she'd been picking up. It hit the tray, which caused the other three drink to fall and crash onto the bar, liquid flooding the top and leaking down the sides to the floor below.  

Huh.

***

Bilba sat on a stool at the bar, head resting on her folded arms. She was in that state halfway between being asleep and awake where her body was heavy, and she felt like she had a bad case of the flu. The restaurant had closed a half ago earlier but the thought of trying to go home, or even just to her office to get started on paperwork was excruciating.

An arm slid around her waist suddenly, and she looked up with a frown just in time to see Fili as he slid an arm under her legs and proceeded to lift her straight up off the chair.

Bilba wrapped her arms loosely around his neck without thinking and shook her head in a futile attempt to clear it. She was so damn tired. "What an odd dream," she mumbled. She relaxed against him and shut her eyes again. She was dimly aware of being carried, and then settled into the seat of a car. "Noooo," she whined, reaching out. "I have to do payroll."

He knelt, one hand on the open door and the other on the edge of her seat. "You need sleep. You try to do payroll now and you're likely to pay everyone in Monopoly money."

Bilba giggled at the absurd mental image, and then groaned as her head began to pound. "I feel awful."

"Because you push yourself too hard." He stood up and shut the door. Through slitted eyes, Bilba watched him walk around the front of the car, her car, and slide into the driver's seat.

"Are you kidnapping me?" she asked suspiciously.

He chuckled, a low rumble, and then turned the key in the ignition, sending the engine roaring to life. "I'm taking you home." He grinned at her. "It's my job to ensure everyone has a pleasant experience at Shire, and that includes my boss."

Bilba grumbled and sank back into the seat, noting absently he'd somehow managed to buckle her in without her noticing. "I'm a sucky boss."

To her horror, her vision blurred, and she shook her head, trying to dispel them the threatening tears. She wasn't usually a crier. It's just a dream, she told herself. Figures she'd managed to screw things up with him in a dream.

"You're not screwing anything up," Fili said as they pulled onto the road. "You're too hard on yourself."

Bilba frowned at him. "Since when can you read minds?"

He chuckled. "You're talking out loud."

"I am not," Bilba grumbled. She sagged back in her seat. "I don't even know how to do payroll."

Fili's eyes flickered toward her, surprised. "Then how have you been doing it so far?"

"Google." Bilba raised a hand to wave through the air. "Google knows all."

"That it does." Fili focused on the road for a few minutes. "I might know someone who could help you in that."

"I'm sure you do." Bilba tried to focus on the road in front of them but it shifted in and out of focus. "I don't know anything about restaurants," she blurted. A few tears escaped on their own and she lifted a hand to wipe them away. She felt cold and shaky and, god, but she just wanted to sleep. "I'm such a screw up."

Fili grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You are not a screw up. A screw up wouldn't be able to keep a restaurant like Shire running for as long as you have, knowing as little about the business as you do. You're just overwhelmed."

The walls of her gated community came into view and Bilba wondered idly how he'd known where she lived.

They pulled up to the gate, and a light shined on them as the guard inside stepped closer.

"Miss Baggins, are you all right?"

"Hi Bard," Bilba managed to mutter. This dream just kept getting weirder. She tried to curl up against the door, but it was next to impossible to get into a comfortable position and, damn it all if that didn't make her want to cry all over again. "I wanna go home now."

She heard a quiet conversation between Bard and Fili and then the guard opened the back door and slid into her car. Apparently, in this dream, she was collecting people like lost puppies.

She heard Fili laugh again but tuned it out in favor of dozing. She was vaguely aware of the car stopping, and then of being carried again. Her house alarm beeped and, when Fili set her on her feet and supported her, she hazily punched in the code to turn it off.

Then she was being carried again and then, blessedly, the sheets of her very own bed were under her. She felt her shoes being tugged off, and then the blankets were drawn over her.

She was sound asleep before they had fully settled.

***

Fili wordlessly followed the guard downstairs again, reset Bilba's alarm and then followed the other man out, locking the door and pulling it closed behind him.

He and Bard walked in silence back to the gatehouse and then Fili headed to the sidewalk just outside the gate pulling his phone out as he did. He dialed, and bit back a grin as a gruff voice answered. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"That I do," Fili leaned against the stone wall, bracing one foot behind him and shoving his free hand into his jacket pocket. "I need a ride."

"Why?" his uncle asked, already sounding more awake. "What happened to your car?"

"I had to give my boss a ride home," Fili answered. "I left my car back at Shire."

"Your boss?" Thorin questioned. "This the one you won't shut up about?"

Fili rolled his eyes. "You know she's trying to run Shire completely by herself?"

"She's insane then?" Thorin asked. "Your mother will be thrilled."

"She's not insane," Fili said, defensively. "She's just in over her head. Anyway, I think she might be open to hiring some more people. You know, people with actual restaurant experience. Managerial, bookkeeping, so forth."

"You talk to her about it?" Thorin asked.

As he did, Fili heard him grunt and swear under his breath as he struggled to get dressed and, most likely, find his shoes. He was always throwing them every which way and taking forever to locate them again. After a minute the phone call cut off entirely as his uncle hung up in frustration. Fili slid the phone into his pocket and leaned back against the wall to wait for the other man to arrive.

"No, he whispered, to no one in particular. "I haven't talked to her about it."

Not yet anyway, but he planned too. Maybe tomorrow, over a cup of coffee if she was willing.

Plastic cups of coffee.

Definitely plastic, and with a lid.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

HAPPY NEW DECADE MY DUDES! IT IS WODENSDAY AND I BRING YOU GHOSTS!

Nerds chat, big sisters are consulted, ghosts are fought, magick is performed

“You know, Danny, one day you have to do something that isn’t mind-blowingly awesome,” Tucker said.  “One of these days it’ll happen. You’ll say something plain and boring, not ‘I’ve been to the moon’ or ‘I found the ghost that was haunting my locker and made fast friends with him’.”  Tucker didn’t really mean that of course, he wasn’t sure Danny was capable of doing something that wasn’t impressive. Then again that might’ve just been because Tucker thought everything Danny did was impressive.  They were flying over Amity Park on hoverboards controlled by their gloves, all because of Danny.

“Tucker, please,” Danny scoffed, “It’s not that what I say will be something dull and normal, it’ll just be what our new normal is pretty soon.”  Danny had his hood up, somehow, and didn’t both wearing his helmet. Unlike Tucker, he didn’t actually need it to keep safe in the air. He wove around Tucker in circles before diving for the park, a cheer on his lips.  Tuck dove after him, and soon enough a monochrome figure came into view, blurry at the edges but his face matched his yearbook photo easily enough. The two skidded to a stop and hopped off their boards - which took more effort than was convenient, he’d have to figure out a way to fix that - and Danny held up a hand for a high five.  Sidney flinched back a bit and Tuck cleared his throat.

“Danny, high fives were invented around the ’70s.  Sidney is from the 50s.” Tucker slapped Danny’s hand to demonstrate and grinned.  “It’s just a greeting, like a handshake but faster. Hi, I’m Tucker Foley.” He held out his hand and Sidney stared at him.  “I’m the furthest thing from a bully.”

“Tucker is the geekiest guy in the world.”  Tucker stepped on Danny’s foot for that, grinning at the yelp he received.  “That’s a compliment you dork!”

“Sidney Poindexter,” he finally shook Tucker’s hand, and smiled.

“So, Sidney, how’s it been, finally being back on Earth?”  Leave it to Danny to ask the awkward question.

Sidney just lit up like a christmas tree though and spread his arms out to gesture at the park.  “It’s been amazing! Everyone looks so different and all the cars are so much faster and sleeker than before - colorful too!  I’ve never seen so many different kinds of people just hanging out with each other! Though there’s a lot I don’t understand, and I guess that’s just how the future is supposed to feel but goly these rectangles people are tapping on seem to do a lot .”

“Yeah, different time periods make for pretty different experiences,” Danny mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Speaking of experiences, what’s it like on the other side?” On one hand Tucker wanted to smack Danny with his hat for that, but on the other he understood wanting to know.  They weren’t exactly about to go through the portal to find out and get lost.

“Oh.  Well uh, for a while I was just floating around in the green void, passing through doors and islands and buildings and even other ghosts.  According to some Will O Wisps I wasn’t really a ghost yet, just a soul that got stuck in the Infinite Realms.” Danny had pulled out his journal, looking at Sidney intently and Tucker knew the look on his face.  Danny was hyperfocused by now. “That’s what it’s called, by the way, the Infinite Realms. Cause it goes on forever n ever and apparently anybody from everywhere can end up there. It felt like I was in there for years before enough of the uh…”

“Ectoplasm?”  Danny held up a hand and with visible concentration silvery green light jumped between his fingers and wrapped around them like a blanket.

Sidney snapped his fingers.  “Yeah, ectoplasm! Enough of it bonded to me that I could touch things around me again, which was swell!  It was pretty scary too, though, cause anything can become a ghost…”

“Huh… like dragons, and jersey devils and chupacabras?”  Tucker snorted at Danny, rolling his eyes.

“What, have you met bigfoot?”

“No, but I did meet the Fiskerton Phantom, and a komodo dragon that can turn invisible.”

“Like I said, scary stuff.  But uh, ghosts can make these things, places, called Sanctuaries where they can be safe, which is what most of the islands and stuff in the Realms are.  And I managed to make one, and I was safe from most of the more dangerous ghosts out there! But… that safety didn’t really last.”

“Did you go through a portal and end up trapped in your mirror somehow?”  Sidney flickered like static and laughed, a hollow sound that made Tucker shiver and his skin crawl.

“Oh wouldn’t that’ve been better?  No, I messed up. I hadn’t listened to the ghost with the blue dress and blonde hair that told me how making a sanctuary works - or I guess I didn’t ask enough questions about it.”  Sidney’s eyes flickered red and Tucker felt a tug in his hand, looking down to see his helmet was glowing green. “It was based on my memories .  The most recent ones too, so I ended up in my own Casper High with a bunch of… I dunno, echoes or shadows of the bullies from my life and by the time I realized what had gone wrong I couldn’t get out.”  Sidney wrapped his arms around himself and Tucker was absolutely about to lose hold of his helmet.

“Sidney, would you like a hug?  Cause you sound like you need a hug.”  Danny spread his arms wide open for Sidney, and over the din of insults and jeers and horrible laughter that Tucker could hear from Poindexter, he could hear the ebb and crash of waves on a beach coming from Danny.  Sidney blinked, looking up at Danny with wide eyes and for a few moments he didn’t do anything. Then he nodded and was being pulled into the inescapable warmth of Danny’s hug.  

“Dang, that sounds like a job for Jazz.  She can use her super psychology powers to help you out.”  Tucker set down his helmet, which was no longer about to fly away, and pulled the Fenton Finder™ out of his jacket - which Tucker had figured out how to add a porta pocket to while he was building the tangibility modulator.  When he looked up, Sidney was far more solid looking and Danny was staring at him like he’d handed him the moon and said it was his. “What?”

“Tucker Foley, you absolute genius! ”  Danny’s arm swung out and Tucker was dragged into the hug.

“Okay, I absolutely am a genius, but what did I say?”

“Sidney, I have an older sister named Jazz - who you cannot tell about my ghost half by the way, that’s a big secret - and like, a hug is good for a lot of things but having someone to talk to is way better!”

Sidney squirmed in the embrace and phased out of it, leaving Tucker to his fate of being pressed against his best friend like a teddy bear.  “I uh. I dunno about that. Last time I had someone to talk to it was the guidance counselor and that uh.  Well let’s just say my death was more than just bullies being too rough.”

Oh, Tucker did not like that at all.  “I promise you, Jazz is 500 times better than that.  She’d never hurt anyone that needs her help like that.”

Sidney still looked sceptical but Danny let go of Tucker and lowered his voice to something soft and sure.  “Sidney, Jazz is my big sister. She’s literally always trying to make sure I’m feeling as good as is humanly possible in the face of all the weirdness our parents have put us through.  When I was 7 and she was 9 the christmas turkey came to life and she fought it off because I was too small to fight at all and then she taught me what she knew about martial arts. There’s not a thing in the world I wouldn’t trust Jazz with, and you should trust her too.  But, I can’t make you trust her and I still have to ask her if she’ll do it.”

Sidney took a breath, fully opaque for once, and gave Danny a shaky thumbs up.  “Sure.”

“Awesome as that is,” Tucker said, raising the Fenton Finder.  “I need to scan you so we can make sure that the security system doesn’t shoot you if something bad happens in the school.”

If there was any one chore that Jazz would happily dump on her little brother were he there for her to give it to him, it was moving boxes of scrapped experiments to the shed.  Danny very clearly needed the exercise and Jazz didn’t, and it was tedious. She was a good older sister, she deserved a bit of pettiness. Besides, it meant that she could only give Spike half of her attention as he complained about his little brother cryptid hunting.  “Tell Wes that even if he’s right, he shouldn’t endanger the cryptids by trying to show them off to humanity. If you appeal to his empathy he’ll probably either actually stop, or at least stop coming to you about it so that you don’t try and guilt him for what he’s doing.”

“Wouldn’t expect that kind of manipulation from you, Jazz.  Is that what you do to get your brat to be quiet for five seconds?”

“First of all, I’m studying psychology Spike.  I know how people work.” She set down a box of broken tools and failed devices that would only see the light of day as melted down and repurposed scrap in some other experiment.  “Secondly, how dare you insinuate I don’t find Danny’s info dumps about space interesting. It’s adorable and he’s very informative.”

“Uh, rude?  I’m not cute, in the slightest.”  Jazz turned to see Danny pouting in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.  “I’m a total badass.”

“Badasses can carry all this scrap from the lab to the shed, shorty.”

“Heck, aren’t you clever?  Like, the best at thinking up any response to anything.  You know, I uh. I have something you might not have the perfect answer for.”  Danny’s hands were stuffed in his pockets now and his shoulders were hunched. This was important.

“Spike, I’ll talk to you later.  Remember, morality!” Jazz hung up and ruffled Danny’s hair, grinning at the pout he gave her.  “So?”

“So,” he said back, rocking on his heels.  “You don’t like, agree with Mom and Dad about ghosts, right?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to disagree they exist when I shot one off of you, little brother.  I’d be pretty bad at the scientific method if I ignored proof right in front of my eyes.”

Danny huffed a laugh and shook his head.  “No no, I mean like… what they think of ghosts.  You don’t think they’re all ‘evil’ for being ghosts, right?”

Jazz rolled her eyes.  “Danny there’s no such thing as evil.  I may have been… less than correct about ghosts existing but I do know that Mom and Dad know nothing about psychology.”  She watched some of the tension in Danny’s posture die down and poked his stomach.  “Why?”

“Right,” he said and took a breath.  “So, if I were to show you, hypothetically, someone in need of therapy who may or may not be a bit deceased-”

“Can someone only be a bit deceased but otherwise ok?”

“You’d be surprised,” he huffed.  “Enough that it’s obvious anyway? Would you, hypothetically, be able to help?”

Jazz rolled that over in her head a bit.  Danny had found a ghost that disproved their parents’ hypothesis - or prejudiced stereotype, a toss-up if any - and felt they needed psychiatric help but didn’t trust any Amity doctor not to call the Fentons or try to charge the dead a fee.  That or he was fucking with her, but Danny was bad at hiding his distress and the longer she stayed silent the more he fidgeted.

“So whose ghost are you asking me to help out?  I’m not Mom and Dad but I do have every right to worry about a stranger you’re inviting into your life.”  Danny sighed and relaxed more than he had in a while around her. Jazz couldn’t help but smile, even as she was crushed in a hug.  “Lungs.”

“You’ll be fine and his name is Sidney Poindexter.”  Danny squeezed her one more time before letting go.  “According to Tucker, he’s the guy who used to have my current locker.”

“You have a haunted locker at school… why am I not surprised?”  Jazz shook her head, covering her face with her hand. “Sidney Poindexter, that kid who reportedly suffered the most bullying in the history of the school and … ok, wow, he really would need therapy if he were to hypothetically come back to the land of the living.  I wonder where I might find him?” Danny didn’t need to hear any of the less pleasant details of that story unless Sidney chose to tell him.

“No clue.  When I finish coming up with that hypothetical part of the situation I’ll tell you.”  Danny fired her a pair of finger guns and backed away slowly, somehow not tripping over his own feet like the last time she saw him do that.  “Later Spazz.”

“Remember not to smear your weird UV paint all over your jacket, Picasso.”

“THOSE WERE NOT SMEARS, IT WAS ART,” he said, and Jazz held onto the door while she laughed.

“I’m worried about Danny.”  Jazz had to wait until lunch and sped through eating just to find him, but she’d tracked down Vice-Principal Lancer and he agreed to walk and talk.  “He’s been through a lot lately, what with tests and bring hunted by a robot like an animal and social pressures and I know it’s getting to him.”

Lancer arched a brow and sighed at her as they turned a corner.  “Have you tried talking, Jazz? It’s the staple of human survival, communication, and all kinds of relationships.”

“I’d talk with him if I could, Mr.Lancer, but I’m his older sister and I’m afraid Danny’s reaching a point in his life where you keep things from your family while you try and figure it out on your own to be more independent.”  If Jazz noticed Lancer giving her a pointed look, he hadn’t verbally acknowledged her glasshouse so she could throw as many stones as she so pleased. They stopped and Lancer fished out a ring of keys. “He wouldn’t talk to me about this, probably wouldn’t even listen when I try and tell him to open up to someone.  Also, why are we heading into the guidance counselor’s office? Have you gotten a license in that as well?” It was a joke among the upperclassmen that Lancer was at least vaguely equipped to substitute teach literally every class in their underfunded school.

Lance snorted and flipped through keys.  “No, Jazz, we’ve actually finally managed to grab a guidance counselor.  You know I can’t do everything around here.”

“You most certainly seem to.”

“Be that as it may, Jazz, he may listen to me and I’ll try talking to him but have you considered this all is- Great Gatsby!”  Jazz turned away from Lancer to see what startled him and felt every muscle in her body lock up in shock.  The room was a mess, burn marks reminiscent of Dad’s latest weapon going off randomly at home littered the walls, the desk was flipped upside down and acrid smoke met her nostrils nearly choking her.  Or maybe she had simply stopped breathing when her eyes landed on the figure in the center of the room, green light radiating from their form in all directions casting eerie shadows everywhere and wide green lights bright as torches shone from underneath a cloud of white and above a mass of black and white material.  They pulled a black hood up over their curly white hair and a masculine voice hissed out a quiet, forceful and slightly reverberating, “ Shit. ”

Holding up his hands, the figure’s eyes dimmed slightly and Jazz could make out bright blue skin tinged with a bit of green.  “Now I know what this looks like, but I promise there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”

“You’re a ghost.”  Jazz wasn’t asking a question, her voice pitched up in a desire to be horribly wrong more than curiosity.

“Lab Safety is important.”  The green light flickered, a blue face made indistinct by the light show and the shadows of the hood visibly cringed and Lancer gasped in horror in front of her.  “I know that maks this illogical by default.”

“That depends,” Jazz said slowly while reaching into her pocket and fishing for a small tube of what would look like lipstick to anyone else, “on why you trashed the room.  This does look pretty-”

“Jasmine what are you doing!?”  Lancer hissed, and while Jazz was certain he meant the talking in general, the light in the boy’s eyes shifted toward her hand.  He sucked in a superfluous breath and vanished from sight while Jazz let off a litany of swears in her head.

“I was trying to get some information from him, Mr. Lancer.  He had an explanation apparently and I wanted to hear it.” Jazz dropped the lipstick tube back into her pocket and crossed her arms.  “Didn’t you just tell me that communication is important?”

“Important as it is, Jasmine,” Lancer said with what Jazz recognized as a lecturing tone and decided that she already didn’t like what he had to say. “That was a ghost and I do believe the experts - your parents - have advised us all to avoid grabbing the attention of a ghost unless we want to become one.”  Of all the times for anyone to actually acknowledge her parents’ work and knowledge and it was now?

“With all due respect, Vice Principal Lancer, I think that of all things to listen to my parents about for once, their biased prejudice against all things ghost is hardly the one to believe.  If everyone that died was malicious then the second they got a way into the living world we’d be overrun and there wouldn’t be a living world anymore.”  Gesturing to herself and a staring Lancer she drawled, “I’d say we’re proof that my parents are wrong.”

While Lancer tried visibly to come up with an intelligent response to that, Jazz flicked on the lights and gave the room a closer look than she had before.  Walking around she noticed the tiniest drops of ectoplasm lingering near where the burn marks were, and just under the desk. Pulling out a vial or three and some cotton swabs, Jazz put away a few samples to check over later.  Even if she didn’t want to so much as acknowledge that her parents were right about ghosts existing, or fight them, she wasn’t going to bury her head in the sand and ignore all the evidence that said she needed to either get someone else to do something or do it herself.  What’s one more thing to steal my sleep away?

She turned to a puzzled Lancer and cleared her throat.  “It looks to me like a fight was happening here. A teenaged boy venting his anger over being d-” Breathe and don’t think about it.  “In his particular situation would go somewhere he probably won’t get caught, not a school with a security system made specifically to shoot until he’s a bubbling pile of green sludge upon activation.  I wish I knew what he was fighting and why but unfortunately he saw me reaching for a weapon and bolted.”

“Reaching for a weapon, Jazz?”  Heaving a sigh she met the arched brow on Lancer’s face with a very practiced look she gave teachers that tried to paint her as being wrong about something.

“Principal Ishiyama said that we can use them in emergency situations and while I hardly share my parents’ opinion that all ghosts are malevolent mindless creatures, a teenager made of thoughts and emotions that just finished fighting isn’t someone I want to talk to without an option to defend myself.  I’m safe around other human beings because I practice several martial arts, not because everyone is harmless.”

“That’s rather… pragmatic of you, Jazz.”  Lancer let out a breath and the tension left his shoulders.  He clasped a hand on her shoulder and Jazz was lead out of the destroyed room.  “I personally feel that you need to speak with someone about all of this as much as Daniel does.  After all, it is happening to you too.”

“I appreciate your worry, Mr. Lancer, but it’s not necessary.”  Jazz smiled at the man. “As much as I’m sure this guidance counselor will be great for the other students, I have someone I can talk to already.”

“That’s good, Jazz.  Still, if you need any help I’m certain that Ms. Spectra will be happy to give it to you.”

"She saw me.  She saw me in a busted up room with my hands glowing, and I shit you not, she reached for a weapon."  Danny paced in Tucker's room with his hood down and hands wildly gesticulating. “Now she and Mr. Lancer probably think I’m some destructive monster.  There’s no way I could’ve made a worse impression.”

“Well,” Sidney said from his spot reclined in the air and watching Tucker play God of War, “when I first met you I thought you were bullying someone.”

“Plus,” Tucker chirped as he attempted, fruitlessly, to fight a Valkyrie, “you could’ve accidentally shot them.  Much worse impression.” Kratos died on screen and Tucker growled to himself, lifting his controller to toss it and dropping it with a grimace instead.  “That thing really fucked up my arm, huh?”

Danny sucked in a breath and held up a hand, pulling out bands of silver and green light from his center, gathering it above his palm as best as he could.  It flickered and slipped out of his grasp every few seconds, like trying to hold water in a barely cupped hand. “I could try healing you?”

“Danny,” Sam drawled while putting down her book, “are you sure you know how to do that?  It looks like your ectoplasm is glitching through you instead of listening to you.” Danny observed his arm, focusing on the first plane of existence as hard as he could, and huffed a sigh in agreement that it did look like a patch of glitchy green and white around his hand.  “Hold out your hand, and Tucker hold out your arm for me.” The boys obliged and Sam held out a hand of her own, eyes closed, and pinched the ectoplasm haphazardly flowing around Danny’s hand. Danny’s eyes widened as she pulled the silvery light out of him and into her own aura, a few words being muttered in Hebrew as it flowed through her body to the other hand, and into Tucker’s arm.  When the light faded, Danny felt tired and hungry, while Tucker looked far more relaxed than he had in a while. “Viola.” 

Tucker looked from his arm to Sam and back several times, flexing and stretching the appendage.  “Sam, I cannot emphasize this enough, holy shit. ”  Sam grinned smugly at them while Danny, Tucker, and Sidney all stared at her in awe.  “How did you do that?”

“I put forth some effort and actually looked into this ghost stuff from an angle that wasn’t the Fentons’ research.  That lead to magick, which leads us to this.” Sam held up her book Magick: the Life Blood of the Earth.  “I had a feeling that using Danny’s ectoplasm might warrant immediate effects, especially since he was focusing on trying to heal Tucker.”

“Right,” Danny drawled.  “Next time ask me first? I feel hungry enough to eat a whole pig right now.”

“Mom ha-

“But with like, vegetables and stuff because I value my health.”  Tucker stuck out his tongue and Danny laughed.

“Tucker, do you have a flashlight?”  Everyone turned to look at Sidney and Tucker shrugged, pulling a miniature flashlight out of his pocket and handing it over.  Sidney turned it on and pointed it at Danny’s face. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Care to share that idea with the class, Sidney?”  Tucker picked up his controller and chuckled as he started up the fight anew.  “Is Danny supposed to photosynthesize?”

“Basically, yes!”  Danny blinked a few times and tilted his head.  “Ghosts are all made of ectoplasm, which drains pretty much anything of energy around it like a plant taking in sunlight, but some ghosts use particular forms of energy to sustain themselves, and when you were trying to heal Tucker everything got all dark, so I thought you might run better on light than just on the heat in the room.  Better for your body if your ghost half isn’t sucking all the life-sustaining heat from it, right?” Everyone stared at Sidney for a long beat, trying to process what he’d said. Danny held out his hand and pinched the beams of light coming toward him. After a moment of consideration, he imagined himself drinking the light and the flashlight immediately went dark as it flowed into his hand.  “See?”

“Sidney, you’re a genius!”  Danny pulled Sidney into a hug and beamed.  Then he started pulling on the strands of light racing through the air that he was sure no one else could see, absorbing what he was certain were the higher frequency gamma and uv lights around him.  In moments the room looked the way it had before he’d gained his new Sight and for a moment Danny felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. When he looked around the room however, he couldn’t help the pang of sadness that came with the lack of all those beautiful colors that only he (and Sidney he supposed) had been able to see.  “I think I’ll save doing that for when I’m desperate, but that’s awesome to know!”

“So not only are you ghosts, but you’re also plants.”  Tucker snorted. “No wonder Sam likes you so much.” Sam bopped him on the head with her book as he picked up his controller and he made an offending noise, which everyone ignored.

“Speaking of ghosts, I think I’ve just figured out a way for you to kill two birds with one stone, Danny!  If we go on patrol with the Fenton Finder™ to find the blob ghost that tried to kill us and catch it before it hurts anyone, we can capture an aggressive ghost and show the public - and your family - that ghosts aren’t all evil.”

Danny frowned, watching Tucker get his butt handed to him by Kara on screen for the 28th time, and considered that.  The shapeshifter was definitely going to hurt someone if they didn’t do anything about it and Danny knew his folks would jump on any amount proof that ghosts were all evil, likely to claim that this second malevolent spirit was a clear pattern of spiritual behavior.  They didn’t need more help sowing anti-ghost sentiments among whoever thought they weren’t entirely crazy, and he didn’t need more harassment from the asshats who thought they were and that he probably was by extension. Ugh. “Tuck, where are you on figuring out who the guy is?”

“Did you seriously think I could find out who this sentient blob of green slime with fangs and glowing red eyes that apparently shapeshifts is supposed to be?  With what, ghoulgle?” Sidney chuckled and Sam laughed, shaking her head. “I’m a genius, obviously, but I’m not a wizard, Danny.” Danny’s shoulders slumped and he sighed.  “Unless..”

“Unless?”  Sidney and Danny echoed.  Tucker looked at Sam’s book and so did the other boys, the idea sparked in their minds.

“Danny and Sidney combined aren’t going to have enough power to help me see through space and time to find out who this shapeshifter was.  If we really wanna know, we’ll have to catch them and ask them through the thermos.”

“Alright, that’s fair.”  Tucker lost in the game once more and turned the HorrorStation off.  “Y’know what, sure. Let’s go hunt a ghost. I’m up for a fight we can actually win.  Sidney, you in?”

“I-uh I’ll leave the fighting to you guys.  I’m gonna give this youtube thing a try and see what I can learn.”  He smiled and waved them off, and the trio shrugged, heading down the trap door to Tucker’s room and waving his parents goodbye.

While Sam and Tucker took their hoverboards to the air, Danny found the nearest alleyway and made sure no one was there to see him.  He took in the sight of the vivid indigo surrounding him and reached inside for the ectoplasmic green and pearlescent white inside of him, watching it unfurl over his body in a flash and carve away at the ties between him and the Earth.  He lifted off the ground and shook himself, sure that he’d never get used to it, before flying up to where Tucker and Sam were waiting for him with the Fenton Finder™ already out and his ectosignature blocked from it.  At his insistence, they decided to search together in a group since splitting up was for the idiots getting picked off in a horror movie.  Danny let himself slip into the space between spaces, where the background light of the world was blue and violet refusing to blend properly into indigo but just as intense as the indigo had been, if not more.

After an hour of searching, Danny saw a green dot at the edge of his full-body vision and the radar picked up on an ectosignature.  They all dove toward the music store where people were beginning to run while screaming their heads off, and Danny dove through the illusion people called a wall foot first, slamming into the shapeshifter mid snarl.  “Whoa there, flubber!” Danny ducked a swipe of claws and smirked. “I know jello can dance if you play loud enough music in front of it, but I didn’t know you wanted to. Screaming isn’t music unless it’s a Metallica song, man.”

Tucker and Sam burst through the doors and Sam opened fire, striking the blob while charging it like the crazy person she was.  It lunged at her, knocking over a shelf on its way, and Sam barely avoided a bladed arm cutting her head off, though her leg was nicked and she fell to the ground with a litany of swears that Danny couldn't understand.  Tucker shot the arm as it retracted into the shapeshifter and Danny dove between the angry monster and his best friend just in time for a fist the size of both of them to knock them into another shelf full of CDs. “Damn, we just fixed my arm and now my back is fucked up, Tucker groaned as he and Danny stood.  Danny saw red.

Light and heat and power gathered above Danny’s palm like a raging river into a whirlpool, while Sam shouted insults at the shapeshifter.  “Did anyone order a snot rocket?” His blast connected, knocking Discount Venom back into the help desk. An arm whipped out and caught Danny by his leg, slamming him into the ground and dragging him toward the ghost, bumping his already pounding head against every surface it could on the way.

“Aren’t you just the cleverest little bloodthirsty mutant?”  Well, they finally heard it’s high masculine voice and Danny already hated the sound of it.  “I actually felt that, you little freak.”

“If you think I’m the freak here, then you haven’t looked in the mirror lately,” Danny spat.  “I know it’s hard, but you have to acknowledge that some people have actual bodies.”

“Such a sharp wit to go with those sharp teeth, too!  Oh, but don’t worry, ghost kid, being a ghost isn’t what makes you so violent, clearly.”  Danny heard the whine of an ecto pistol and sucked in a gasp as he was chucked into the air at the same time that a blast was fired.  PAIN .  “Just ask your little murderer!  That’s twice she killed you now, isn’t it?  You really should let the other kid get a shot if you can, would-be witch.”  The blob’s voice grew distant and muffled as pain filled everything inside of Danny, and while he didn’t remember returning to human form, he knew that it was blood on his back, not ectoplasm.  His vision went dark, indigo, then blues and purple, then everything was a beautiful and impossible Lilac, and he could see and hear the stars calling out to him. He reached out and accepted their pull away from the pain in his body.