#and even if Danny's still 14 as a ghost he'll have more life experience and that would show up in his thinking and mannerisms.

[asjjohnson]

Immortality

(a ficlet written for Dannymay 2024 prompt 6: Immortal AU: What if Danny/Halfas couldn’t die?) Also on AO3.

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He actually didn’t know whether halfas were immortal or just lived longer than humans.

Now at around age 140, give or take a few years (what year was it now? he could calculate it), Danny was an old man in his human form—wrinkled skin hanging from his arms and face like unironed fabric; hunched over to half his original height, bones grated down as though left exposed outside over the past decades; eyes milked over; ears inadequate despite their larger size; mind fogged.

He had no one to look to. A few years ago, or maybe a decade or two ago, he’d searched the Zone for any sign or rumor of the existence of other halfas. He wasn’t sure how long he’d searched, talking to distant ghosts, visiting places he never could have imagined existed, the Ghost Zone stretching on and on, toward infinity, before he’d given it up as a lost cause.

Vlad (though only a few years older than Danny and thus wouldn’t have been of much help anyhow) never returns to his human form. Had stopped living as a human altogether once he’d realized he was ‘growing old’.

Of course, this had been before Vlad was anywhere near an old man. Back when he’d only been about 60 years old. A few wrinkles and thinning hair, and his vanity and pride had had him abandoning his human half completely.

Not to the extreme of extracting that part of himself, of course—he had known better by that age—but of denying its existence; living solely as a ghost.

Danny had grown fond of humanity, however. The light touch of gravity, an embrace that kept him tethered to reality; the life found everywhere he looked, in the grass at his feet, in the air around him, or even just walking by him—so unlike the void of the Ghost Zone, the vast empty space with small pockets of ecto-life scattered across its depths; even the ache in his bones, the proof that he was alive, still belonging to this planet. It was all fondness.

Even as his senses continued to fade—the details of leaves and faces blurring even with thick glasses, the chittering of birds growing silent even with hearing aids, the difficulty of holding objects (connecting with the world around him) with pain and trembling hands—he clung ever more to the human world and its small wonders.

And though all his human friends from over a hundred years ago might be lost, he wasn’t alone.

They were still here.

Alive and well, living echoes seen in their grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, and teenaged great-great-great-grandchildren. A town composed of familiar faces. And sometimes those echoes were so strong, he called someone by the wrong name.

Matilda wears a black shirt one day and, even with the pink floral patterns, Sam is so strong within her.

Derek tries out for football, and the way his smile pulls across his face is all Dash, even through the freckles and shaggy brown hair.

Nicky’s righteous glare is Valerie shining straight from his heart. Although the light in his eyes as he talks about psychology is all Jazz.

Danny was trying. Trying so hard to stay with them all, as they continued to live, fully alive, forever onward.

He didn’t know whether halfas were immortal.