@rays-of-gold
Some night, he flew above the twinkling lights of Blüdhaven’s buildings, wind rushing through his hair and the feeling of weightlessness pushing at the curve of his back.
There were a multitude of things that Dick Grayson appreciated, loved, Bruce for. One of those things would always be that his adopted dad allowed him to fly once more, even after his parents’ wings were cut.
In the air, he was home.
In the air, Dick Grayson felt like he was living up to, flying alongside, the Flying Graysons. Every flip, every trick he used to go faster, to fight better, felt like his parents were there guiding his every move.
Time healed his hurt, but still, the hole in his heart remained.
So when one of his best friends, a ghost vigilante by the name Phantom, asked him if he wanted to see his parents, he froze like a deer in bright white headlights.
“What…?”
Phantom did a flip in midair. “Wanna see your parents? They’ve been asking if they could talk to you.”
“My parents… are ghosts?” That was the least pressing question he had right now, but it was all his mouth could speak.
“Kind of. It’s complicated,” Phantom side-eyed him. “It would require going into the zone.”
And just like that, Dick understood. After the Amity Park came onto the map and the Justice League fixed the human and alien and meta rights violations that were happening right under their nose, Phantom had permanently closed all access to the Zone. Save, of course, for himself and a few magic users, who all refused to anger the King of the Dead.
“The only way you’re getting to my people now, is through me. Should anyone try to get into the zone, without my permission… I will make sure that you and your family’s afterlives will pay the appropriate price.”
No-one wanted to test his threat. The afterlife is something few fucked with and came back whole.
The Phantom they’d seen on the news then was incredibly different than the one in front of him now. Dick knows, understands now, that it was because Phantom trusted him. After years of being denied help, years of struggling all by himself to keep reality from collapsing while avoiding getting experimented on by humans understandably closed his heart.
“You’d take me into the Zone?” Dick didn’t know what he was feeling. Hope, fear, trust, touched, happiness, something.
A lot of things.
Danny shrugged. “Yeah. I trust you,” he said as he glanced back at Dick-at Nightwing. “Only you, though. No one else.”
The question that remained was whether Dick trusted Phantom too. And considering the fact that the ghost king ironically saved his ass from being killed a couple of times meant, “Yeah. I- I’d love to.”
Danny smiled, all pointed teeth and solemn trust. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Now?!” Dick stood up anyways, his heart in his throat. Danny held out a gloved hand.
“Yeah, now. Haven’t you heard that death waits for no one?” At Dick’s concerned look, Danny added, “Don’t worry. You won’t actually die. You’ll come back whole and alive, I promise.”
“Oh, okay. Let’s go, then!”
——
Clark Kent threw himself out of the window, Superman suit already on.
Seonds later, he was hovering in front of Bruce’s shadowy form on top of a gargoyle.
“Clark,” Batman greeted in his gravelly voice, irritated. “What.”
“Batman, Nightwing’s heartbeat- it disappeared!”
Bruce’s heartbeat stuttered.
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Welcome Back Home
Phic Phight Fic for Avi!
Danny may have been a superhero. He may have been annoying. He may even have been ‘practically an adult.’ He was still Jazz’s little brother. The one who had once begged her for play time and increasingly baffling milkshake combinations. The one who helped her fight reanimated turkeys every Christmas. The one who painstakingly researched what books to give her for her birthday.
So, it wasn't so much a choice to throw herself between him and her parents’ newest and most worrying weapon as it was a reflex. If any thought crossed her mind while she dashed across the parking lot and into the path of the beam, it was either this is going to hurt or I hope I'm fast enough.
Well, it didn't hurt. It did drop her in the Ghost Zone. Immediately, She whirled, trying to find the portal.
Way back, when she and Danny had come clean about their respective secrets, Danny had sat her down for what he called his ‘Ghost Zone Survival Guide.’
“Okay,” he'd said, spinning in his spinny chair, “Ghost Zone survival, part one. Don't go there.”
Tucker had snorted. Jazz, who had taken out a fresh notebook and her special note-taking gel pens, glared at him.
“I'm serious,” Danny had defended himself. “The Zone isn't a good place for humans.”
“Why?”
“Do you want some reason other than it operating under different laws of physics and being full of super-powered people who don't care if they kill you by mistake? The radiation, maybe?”
“Never mind. Go ahead.”
“That's what I thought. Anyway, if you wind up going through an unstable or temporary portal, the first thing you need to do is go back through that portal. Like, forget about anything else that's going on. Fights, escapes, your car, other people, get yourself back through.”
“That seems a bit callous,” Jazz had said.
“Well, maybe. But the Ghost Zone is huge, and natural portals and temporary portals aren't just unstable in space, they're unstable in time.”
“They could spit you out in my first life, the middle ages, a thousand years in the future, you name it,” Tucker had helpfully added.
“First life?”
“Don't worry about it,” Danny had said.
“Pharaonic Egypt,” Tucker had answered.
“The point is,” Danny had continued loudly, “you don't want to take a chance with portals unless you know they're stable or have the Infi-Map.”
“Or time grandpa has your back.”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Who is–”
“It doesn't matter. He doesn't have your back. He doesn't have anyone's back.”
Tucker had made a noise of negation. “He has your back.”
Danny had responded by beaning his friend with a pillow.
Somehow, despite being genuinely informative, Jazz had come away from the ‘lesson’ With more questions than answers. None of which were pertinent to her present situation.
She turned on the spot again, surveying her surroundings in more detail. It didn't help. No matter which direction she turned in, there was no portal.
So. Step one: failed.
Onto step two.
“What if I can't get back through the portal though?” Jazz had asked.
“Well, if you aren't being actively attacked–”
“You should definitely take care of that first if you are.”
“If you aren't under attack, see if you can spot any landmarks. If you can see one, you'll at least have a general idea of where you are. Mostly.”
“We're making a map,” Tucker had said, “but it sucks.”
“That's not a comment on our self-confidence or whatever,” Danny had said before Jazz could interject. “Stuff moves in the Ghost Zone. It's kind of like trying to make a map of the solar system. If you're sitting on Jupiter, you know where the sun is, and you've got a pretty good idea about the inner planets, but unless you have a model you can put the time into, you're not going to have any idea where Pluto is.”
“And you wouldn't know the right time, either,” Jazz had said, contemplatively.
“Exactly. But landmarks are still good. They'll give you your general area, at least. And maybe what else is around, too.” He'd given her a photo album full of Ghost Zone landmarks, then, and they'd spent the next half hour going through them.
Jazz was on a floating island. It was medium-sized, perhaps a dozen or so acres square on this side, full of softly rolling hills covered with purple grass and pale green flowers. As far as Jazz could tell, there wasn't anything else on it, although that didn't mean there wasn't. It didn’t look like any place she'd seen or heard of.
Offshore, the Zone was a moderately-familiar green-on-green. Foggy ectoplasm and the lack of anything like a horizon made it difficult to judge distances.
There were a few other islands Jazz could see. Something like a mountain range, a floating sphere, and, just on the edge of her vision, a slightly more regular conglomeration of shapes that could have been a town.
Bingo.
“If you don't recognize anything, do your best to head towards civilization.”
Jazz had raised an eyebrow at that. “Despite the super-powered people who don't care if I die?”
“She’s got you there, Danny my man.”
“Ugh, why couldn't Sam have been here?”
“Gasp, don't tell me you forgot the mega-ultra-turbo grounding already? How could you?”
Danny had thrown another pillow at Tucker. “You're so unhelpful. Anyway, people are dangerous, but they're also the only place you're going to get directions.”
“And if I see something, how do I get there? Considering everything is a flying island.”
“That’s a bit tricky.”
Jazz bounced on her the balls of her feet, staring down the green void between herself and her destination. She’d never done this before, and despite Danny and Tucker’s attempts at an explanation, or even Sam’s later on… Well, she felt like she should’ve convinced them to bring her to the Ghost Zone to practice.
There was nothing she could do but try. She closed her eyes and jumped into the air, believing she could fly with all her might. Her feet hit the ground again. Damn.
One, two, three, she tried again, and again, and again, and then, finally, when she got mad, when she got frustrated, her feet left the ground and stayed off the ground. She was flying, like only a human in the Ghost Zone could fly.
She opened her eyes and looked over to the distant probably-town. It was just as distant as before. And now she was exhausted from jumping. Both the jumping right now, and the jumping into the line of fire she’d done earlier.
Well, no time like the present to get going. She took off.
The little details of Danny’s advice hadn’t stuck with her - he’d really waxed poetic - but she was still able to move forward. She also spent a lot of time moving down whenever her concentration slipped. Of course, she knew it wasn’t really down, thanks to those same conversations with Danny. It was just the direction she perceived as down, or something like that.
Danny liked flying like this. Danny liked every method of flying to ever exist. Jazz, personally, hated it. A lot. Every minute that passed, every time she slipped, she was terrified that she would go plunging into the murky depths of the Zone, never to be seen again.
Danny hadn’t been wrong about the Ghost Zone not being good for humans.
Thank goodness the town really was a town. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if it wasn’t.
“If I do get to civilization–”
“--or what passes for it–” Tucker had said.
“--what do I do then? Be polite, I assume, but what’s polite for ghosts? What are the cultural touchstones? The social norms?”
“Dunno,” Danny had said. “It’s not like ghosts are just one big group that’s all the same. But if you get to a group of ghosts, like, I don’t know a village or something, they’ll all probably be fairly tolerant. To live together without fighting, you know? Normal politeness will be fine. Probably. Assuming they can speak English.”
She managed a landing at the edge of the town. She hit too hard, and her knees buckled. A few ghosts stopped what they were doing - she didn’t know what, couldn’t spare the attention while flying - to stare at her. With an effort she smiled at them. Closed lips. Many cultures considered smiles with teeth to be aggressive or rude.
“Hi,” she said. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Kio? Kio ŝi diris?”
“Mi ne scias, mi ne parolas la francan.”
Ah. She should’ve taken up Tucker’s offer to teach her some basic Esperanto. Danny was never going to let her live this down.
“Okay, so, what do I do if they don’t speak English?” she’d asked.
“Get good at charades? You probably won’t be able to get good directions without speaking the language - I have no idea how you’d do the portal in charades - but you can trade stuff. Bargain, barter, whatever you want to call it.”
“For food? Supplies?”
“Eh, not food, actually. Ghost Zone food is mostly ectoplasm. Not good for humans.”
“Then what? Well, you’ll think it’s crazy, but…”
Somehow or another, she got the idea of marketplace and trade across to the ghosts. Apparently the Esperanto word was related to the English. Cousins. Brothers. Whatever, it didn’t matter.
What did matter was what she was going to trade to the ghosts. All she had was her purse, and for a teenage girl, she traveled light. She had her wallet, parking change, a small handful of coupons, number two pencils, a pencil sharpener, a pen, various hygiene products, lipstick, laser, lipstick laser, sunscreen, the universal pocket psychology guide, granola bars, a screwdriver, a couple of bolts from the Peeler - if only she kept that in her purse - spiked bracelet from Spike, phone, and, okay, she didn’t pack that light. There should be something in all this that the ghosts here would probably like.
The ghosts who had seen her less-than-stellar landing ushered her to a colorful, cloth-covered stall, the contents of which looked like the detritus of a million flea markets. The ghost… manning it? Ghosting it? Haunting it? What was the terminology in this case? Whatever. The ghost at the stall was pale green and nondescript except for the swathes of polka-dotted cloth wrapped around their body.
They stared at her with wide eyes. “Ĉu tio estas homo? Viva homo?”
She smiled, forcefully. That didn’t sound like a hello, but she’d take it. “Hello,” she said. “Do you have any boxes?” She made the shape of a box with her hands.
“The Box Ghost? You’re saying that if I can’t get directions, my next step is to try to summon the Box Ghost?”
“Hey, believe it or not I’ve got an agreement with a lot of the regulars. If they bring back lost humans, they get, um. A nonlethal free day. In Amity Park. I can get you a list. And even if you end up in a weird time, like, before I made the deal or something, the Box Ghost is pretty easy. Worst case scenario, you can even let Walker catch you. He always sends humans back.”
Jazz sat on the edge of the town, a cardboard box in hand, purse lighter by a novelty pencil sharpener and the spare screws and bolts. “Oh, great and powerful and completely terrifying Box Ghost,” she said, feeling ridiculous. “I have an offering for your awful, terribleness. It’s cubical and cardboard-ical. Cardboard. Whatever.” She sighed. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”
“DID SOMEONE CALL UPON THE FRIGHTENING AND FRIGHTFUL BOX GHOST, MASTER OF RECTANGULAR CARDBOARD PACKAGES?”
Jazz shrieked and almost fell off the island.
The Box Ghost blinked down at her. “Beware?” he said.
“Hi,” said Jazz. “A gift?” She held up the box.
“THE CARDBOARD IS MINE!” He leaped on the box and held it to his chest like a baby. “What do you want from the HORRIFYING BOX GHOST?”
“So, uh, I know you have a deal with my brother?”
“WHOMST?”
“My brother,” repeated Jazz. “Danny. Phantom?”
The Box Ghost stared at her blankly.
“To get humans back to Amity Park?”
“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT KNOW THE REALM OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?”
That wasn’t good. The opposite, really. If the Box Ghost didn’t recognize Danny’s name…
“What if I am in the past?” Jazz had asked.
“Get back to Earth anyway, and survive. Find a way to get a message to the present. Between the Infi-Map and, um, other contacts I have–”
“Time grandpa,” Tucker interjected.
“I should be able to go get you if I know where and when you are. But I need to know when and where you are.”
Then, Jazz had asked why he couldn't just pick her up at the exact moment she'd arrived, if he was going to time travel anyway, and that had spurred a migrane-inducing argument about paradoxes. Jazz had gotten the impression that the real reason was more along the lines of ‘Danny isn’t allowed to have any more paradoxes’ than ‘the universe won't let paradoxes exist.’
Jazz smiled thinly. “Can you get me to Earth?” she asked. “Please? It’ll be worth your while.”
“Worth the while of the GREAT BOX GHOST?”
“Yep. It might take a while, but you’ll get more of those.” She nodded towards the box in the ghost’s arms. “Consider it an investment in future, um, fear.”
“FEAR?”
“Yes. As in, um, fear me?”
“No, you shall FEAR ME!”
“Exactly,” said Jazz. “Just like that. Can you do it? Or… is it beyond the powers of even the Box Ghost?”
“NOTHING IS BEYOND THE BOX GHOST! I AM EXTREME IN EVERY WAY! THE BOX GHOST WILL SHOW THE STRANGE GIRL WITH GIFTS THE WAY TO HIS SECRET PORTAL!”
At least something was going right. “Thanks,” Jazz said. “That sounds great. I really appreciate it. Where is it?”
“FOLLOW ME!” The Box Ghost paused. “AND FEAR ME!”
He flew off, and Jazz struggled to keep up. Luckily, the Box Ghost was courteous enough to stop for her every once in a while. The flight seemed to go on forever, but, eventually, they came to a stop in front of a twisting, spluttering portal.
“Does this really lead to the Earth?” Jazz asked.
“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT LIE!”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just… is it always so sparky?”
“IT IS UNSTABLE! ONLY THE BOX GHOST IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO USE IT!”
Which meant that it could spit her out anywhere, at any time. But at least she’d be on Earth, AKA somewhere she could eat the food and drink the water.
“It doesn’t come out above an ocean, does it?”
“THERE ARE NO BOXES IN THE OCEAN. THE BOX GHOST HAS NO USE FOR IT.”
“What about crab pots?” asked Jazz.
“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT INTERFERE WITH THE COUNCILS OF CRABS.”
Jazz… wasn’t going to examine that too closely. She braced herself and flew into the portal. The transition this time wasn’t the smooth, blink-and-you’re-in-another-dimension it had been with her parents’ weapon. It had turbulence, and lots of it. It was like being in a washing machine. Or a blender. A really fast blender. One that pulsed and shook and sang a song while it was at it.
It spit her out ten feet above ground. It wouldn’t have been a problem for a ghost, but for a human… Well, at least she didn’t break any bones. Instead, she laid, winded, on the ground. Tall grass framed her vision on all sides. The sun was hot overhead. Which was… less than ideal. It had been Autumn this morning. However long from now that was.
Jazz rubbed her temples. All she had to do was send a message, satisfy Danny’s no-paradox rule, and then she’d be home. Until then, she would survive. She refused to saddle Danny with the guilt associated with her disappearing.
She got up. Looked around. There was a dirt road. She staggered over to it and flipped a coin to decide whether to go left or right. Left it was.
She grew steadier as she walked, but the heat was punishing. She took off her sweater and was tempted to take her shirt off, too. She was wearing a sports bra underneath. It wasn’t like it’d be indecent.
Unless she’d been dropped into the eighteen hundreds. Best not to risk it.
The dirt road became gravel, became poorly-paved asphalt, merged onto another, bigger road… A road with a recognizable name. Jazz wasn’t that far away from Amity Park. She could probably even call… home…
“I’m stupid,” she said out loud. She pulled out her phone. No service. Typical. She kept walking. And walking. And walking.
And then she saw the smoke. Right where Amity Park should be. She ran, then.
She crested the hill, passed the Welcome to Amity Park sign - something was off about it, but she didn’t stop to try and see what it was. She hit the top of the next hill and stopped.
That– That wasn’t Amity Park. At least, it wasn’t her Amity Park. The buildings were bigger. Shinier. Whiter, even. The logo for the GIW sat proudly on one of the tallest ones.
And so many of them were smashed. Burning. Green blurs swirled and fought with white ones. She sat down.
“And what if I wind up in the future instead?”
“I don't know, hope the rest of us don't cause the apocalypse before you get back?”
There was one more explosion, and then a high-pitched wail, a ghostly wail, threw all of the shapes back and away. The white ones didn’t come back.
Jazz… wasn’t sure what to do. She watched. She waited.
And then a familiar shape appeared out of the air in front of her. It was Danny, but… not. He was thinner. Sharper. There was silver and ice in his hair, and blood and ectoplasm on his face. “Hi, Jazz,” he said, smiling sheepishly despite the dark gleam in his eyes. “Well… it isn’t the apocalypse, so…” He spread his hands to either side, and the GIW building behind him fell over. “Welcome home?”
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