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Johnny grips at his own hair and looks down at the dirt. His shadow pools beneath his boots: spiraling, churning, uneasy. From the corner of his eye and under a flickering highway lamp post, he sees Kitty pace, sits down next to him, gets up, and pace some more. Her brows furrowed, and her lips settle into a twisted scowl.
Johnny opens his mouth, and tries to speak, but he can’t think of anything useful or new to say. They all saw it. They all saw how the Fentons had haunted Phantom down. How that mammoth of a man – Jack, that’s what his name was – shot Phantom out of the sky. They saw how the other – Maddie, they called her? – They saw her take Phantoms skull to the asphalt. And then – somehow this was the worst part. Somehow this was what unnerved him the most, despite the brutality, the wet crunch that followed, or the red that leaked onto the creases of the ground – was the grin Phantom had made when he jerked away.
Arms and legs jittering like a dying insect. Blood came down from the swelled gums and covered his teeth. His eyes were wide, wild, and terrified. But he had made that shallow grin, a hollow laugh, and gargled some ridiculous joke or pun that Johnny couldn’t remember as Phantom staggered and tried to crawl away like a butterfly that had its wings plucked.
To be honest, everything after Phantom’s grin came in a blur. Johnny’s thoughts were mudded, unclear. There were no words. There was no plan. Shadow’s form, black and like a fluid liquid became once more shapeless, and had the Fentons’ gadgets and guns fall apart in a single hot spark. Kitty pushed the woman, who was too busy being fascinated by the fact that Phantom had bled red to of had noticed her coming, and Johnny scooped up the boy – who wasn’t unconscious yet, but had half-lidded eyes - in one fell swoop. They piled onto his motorcycle and drove without turning back.
Phantom passed out, rings of light flashed, and they still drove. The sun had set, and they had then still drove. They pass the Amity Welcome sign, they passed unfamiliar highways and roads, and they did not stop until their surroundings were devoid of all life. Until they met the dead-end of a dirt road that only had a couple of odd logs as seats and a strange, misplaced, but functioning highway lamp post.
And they stayed there, because it was apparent on all of their faces and without exchanging a word, that they have no clue about what to do with any of this. Not on what to say, where to go, nor what they were going to with the still-unconscious, currently human boy that curled underneath Johnny’s jacket and with dried flakes of blood in his hair.
Kitty broke the silence first, when she stops mid-pace and stares at Johnny dead-ahead.
“We’re not going back.”
Shadow’s face makes an expression similar to sucking a lemon, something a mix of: No shit, Sherlock and incredulous at the mere idea that going back was in consideration to any degree or that she would think that he would consider it.
“No,” Johnny says slowly, “We are not. Not if we can help it.”
Kitty snorts. “There is no, ‘if we can help it.’ There’s no maybe, or ‘gosh, we’ll sure try our best’. We’re not coming back.” She points at Phantom, at Danny. “None of us.”
“They hunted him before, and he still came back.”
“Then we’ll stop him.”
“Can we?”
No, they couldn’t. And from the way her face twists, Kitty knew it. She opens her mouth, closes it. Clenched and unclenches her fists.
Phantom, Danny, whatever name he went by, escaped from labyrinths and ghosts that were far more clever, far more careful, and far more experienced than the three of them. Johnny, his Shadow, and Kitty. Danny fought like a cornered hound from hell, and worse, he’s a stubborn little shit that won’t listen if he doesn’t want to. If he wants to leave, and go back to that house with those people, then he’ll leave. Simple.
“I’m not suggesting that we let him go back,” he tells her. Kitty’s shoulders lose some tension, but only by a fraction. “I don’t want him back there anymore then you do.” He pauses, brows furrowing, considering his words and trying to say this right, because there’s no easy way to say it. “… But where is he going to go?”
“To the Ghost Zone. Or somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but there.”
“Ok.” Johnny scowls at the ground, frustrated that he can’t quite say what he’s trying to say. “What I mean is, who’s going to take care of him? Because otherwise, our big plan, our solution, is to throw him out into the world. Either he becomes some homeless kid here, with no support and far away from anything he has ever known, with only his powers that nobody can know about as help.”
Johnny combs his hand through his hair, the lines in his face darkening. “Or, we toss him into the Ghost Zone. Another dimension, that he knows next to nothing about how things work or where the best sources are, never mind that he’s still technically human and needs stuff that the Ghost Zone doesn’t have. Like, you know, water.”
“We did it,” She says, “we left.”
“We were unlucky, and alone.” He reminds her, “we made mistakes, and we died for them.”
That’s when the anger leaks out of her. She deflates, and finally sits next to him. She opens her hand, and, as he always did and always will, he holds it.
Shadow looks between the two of them from the ground, equally as unsure as they were.
Johnny looks at Danny: the asshole that always wrecked his bike, never lets him stay in the mortal realm, and kicks his ass into the dirt every chance he gets. An asshole that helped him save Kitty from being split in the portal. A fourteen-year-old with a headwound from his mother because he decided to play superhero. A child that shouldn’t ever have to go back to a house like that.
No one should live like that, and nobody should die like that.
“What if,” Johnny says slowly. “What if we stay here, in the mortal realm. And we take care of him.”
Kitty still looks at the ground, unblinking. She must’ve been thinking the same thing. “We might not be very good at it.”
“We’ll be better than his parents. We’ll be better than yours or mine. That’s a good start.”
“This isn’t something short-term, or a one-time thing.”
“If we can take care of each other in all this time, then we can figure out how to take care of him.”
“It’s going to be awkward, for a while.” She says with the corners of her lips turning up. “You did date his sister.”
He rolls his eyes. “Well tough titty. He’s just going to have to deal.”
She laughs. It’s stressed, and there’s an edge of tension to it, but it’s a genuine one that he’s always chasing after, and with it Shadow crackles.
Everything stops, however, when fabric ruffles and they turn to Danny shifting under his leather jacket. Lethargic and sluggish, he slowly gets up with what looks like the effort equivalent to lifting several concrete bricks or preforming a great balancing act. He looks tired, in every way. With how the bags under his eyes were black and clammy, as though bruised, and how worn he looked.
Yet, Danny still straightens his back when he sees them. He glares with ferocity and stubbornness. Despite how his headwound was only starting to close, despite how his arms shook from lifting himself up, and despite the fact that he kept the leather jacket close like a shield.
“What am I doing here?” Danny’s voice is hoarse and dry, but he still holds his glare and doesn’t fidget.
Johnny looks at Shadow and jerks his head to the bike. Shadow understood immediately, when he dashed next to the bike, dug into one of the bags, and tossed a plastic bottle.
Johnny catches it single-handedly in mid-air and passes it to Danny. “Before you go and do something stupid like pour it out next to you, keep in mind that we don’t roll like that, and what are we going to do? Drug you to kidnap you some more?”
Kitty facepalms. Shadow sinks into the shadows. Danny, however, seemed to follow and agree with this line of logic as he grasps at the water bottle in Johnny’s hand.
Truly, it was impressive how Danny could still keep an eye on him and inhale the entire thing in a single shot.
Danny wipes his mouth dry with the back of his hand. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here.”
“You’re here because your parents beat the shit out of you and we, like sane people, hightailed the fuck out of there.” Kitty said.
“With me?”
She stared at him like he grew two heads. “Yes. Because they were beating the shit out of you.”
“That’s… nice.” Danny gets up only to hiss and put his hand to his head, sitting right back down. He closes his eyes and breathes.
“Which way is to Amity? My parents and my sister are going to kill me if I don’t go back to the house soon –”
“No.”
Danny looks at Kitty and his eyes narrow. “… No?”
“Look,” Johnny says, grabbing Danny’s shoulder. “We can’t stop you, and we don’t do things like this just to mess with you, so just hear us out.”
Truth was, Danny couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Not now, at least. Judging from earlier, he can’t even stand. Johnny knows, and he’s willing to bet that Danny knows that he knows, or at least he’s willing to listen. Given how doesn’t shrug or throw off his hand from his shoulder. Danny gives a short, curt nod.
“Danny,” He asks. “Do you want to go back.”
“I have to go back.”
“No.” Johnny doesn’t mean too, but he tightens his hold on his shoulder. “Do you want to go back.”
“I don’t see why this is important –”
“They’re beating you, Danny.”
“They don’t know it’s me!” Danny hisses, eyes a radioactive green and anger making deep lines onto his face. The flickering lamp post only highlights his expression. “They don’t know that I’m Phantom. They think Phantom is something separate, they don’t think ghosts are people. They don’t know.”
“Does it matter?” Kitty asks, voice dangerous and unusually cold.
Danny’s face immediately slackens to confusion as he looks to Kitty. Johnny doesn’t turn to her, and only focuses on Danny.
“What?”
“Does it matter, that it’s you?” She says. “Does it matter if somebody other than you was Phantom? If Phantom wasn’t their son, what difference would it make? Would they stop haunting you because they realized you were still a person, still somebody’s kid. Or would they keep going because you weren’t their kid.” It’s not a question. “Or, even as their kid, would they keep haunting you.” She gestures to the blood in his hair, “keep doing this until they caught you.”
“… They –”
“Why haven’t you told them you’re Phantom, if that’s what it takes to get them to stop?”
Danny’s chest is stuttering, his eyes are glassy. He keeps his glare, tries to, but it’s faltering.
“Do you want to go back.” Johnny asks again.
“The ghost attacks. The Town. School. My friends. I can’t just – up and leave like that.” He inhales, a long deep breath. “And I don’t want Vlad to kill my dad. Or marry off my mom.”
Johnny scowls. “That’s not what I asked. We can eventually figure something out for all of that, but I asked if you want to go back. If you want to go back, sit down at the table like nothing happened, and fall asleep in a house where no one acknowledges that anything happened. Then do that until… yeah.”
“Or?”
“Or come with us.”
“For how long?”
“For as long as you want. Forever.” Johnny finally lets go of his shoulder and shrugs. “Whatever.” A pause. “I know we’re not… the best choice. But we’re an option you can choose.”
“Why?” Danny asks, “Why do you care? Why offer something like that?” His back is still straight, his eyes are still glassy, but his harden stare remains. “I don’t want this if you’re offering just because of pity –”
“It’s because,” Kitty says, “we had homes like yours. And we died running, granted, but it was better than dying there.”
“Minus the whole super-hero factor, naturally. But yeah.” Johnny clears his throat and stares at the ground. “Nobody deserves that. And if we can get you out of this, then maybe everything from before will have its place.”
Johnny can’t see Danny’s face, and he doesn’t want to look up if his hair and the shadows aren’t covering his own. But Danny isn’t saying anything.
He’s not trying to leave, either.
“… I want to pick up some stuff,” he hears Danny say, “I want to wash the blood off, I want to destroy the portals, mine and Vlad’s. And I want to say goodbye to my friends, and Jazz. But… no. I don’t want to go back.”
“Ok…” Johnny nods, “ok. We’ll do that.”
They climb back on the motorcycle. They go back on the road, with Danny sandwiched between them, and judging from how limp he is, somehow, he’s asleep.
It feels like a loss, going back at all. But Johnny knew how his some of his less impulsive, luckier siblings used to slowly move things out, almost one at a time, until they and their belongs disappeared like they were never there. Without a word or address. Not that Johnny could blame them. The last thing they needed was for someone at home to say where they went so dad could fuck off for a bit.
At least Danny doesn’t have to keep coming back like that.
“Pack light,” Kitty tells Danny when they stop a block or so away from the house. “And make sure they don’t see you.”
Danny gets off the motorcycle and starts walking to the house. “I know.”
“Make sure you get everything you want to bring and do what you need to,” Johnny says, “Because we’re not coming back.”
Danny stops, head tilted in the direction of the Fenton Works bright neon light, shoulders slack.
“I know.”
He starts walking again.