Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue: For Humanity as a Whole

On the surface the meeting would seem to be quite above board.

It was late afternoon. The sky outside showed the faintest hint of gold, the sun traced its way towards the horizon. Light seeped through the glass windows, illuminating the meeting room high among the skyscrapers of New York. A plate of pastries and two emptied coffee cups occupied the centre of the table, surrounded by immaculately laid out manila folders, business contracts and blueprints. Plans were discussed, prices negotiated and deals made. Advanced access to a prototype for a discount on a large software package. A contract for the transfer of staff members between the research and development laboratories of their respective companies. A 10 percent share in a company in exchange for additional project grants. Polite small talk. A recent win by the Green Bay Packers. Coming and goings in the city of Metropolis.

All in all it was a typical meeting. Just two powerful businessmen with the potential for joint projects. All completely above board.

But anyone who kept their eyes and ears open to the whispers of the respective underworlds would know that this meeting was definitely anything but ordinary.

As they regarded each other across the conference table, both men understood that the charade was drawing to a close. Signing off the final contract, the older of the pair decided to broach the topic.

"I must admit to being surprised Mr Luthor. While I am honoured that you would deign to meet with me in person, New York seems quite aways for someone as busy as yourself to come for mere bonds and shares."

"Not that much further than a trip from Wisconsin, Mr Masters. And I always value a chance to meet my esteemed colleagues."

"But of course."

A short expectant silence gathered in the room before the other man continued.

"Now that you mention it, I do have one more… proposition, before we finish. Outside of my own personal businesses, I belong to a small, selective cohort of… influential individuals. My colleagues and I wish to benefit mankind. We envision an evolved, enlightened humanity. A species fit to stand tall, to take our rightful place in the greater cosmos."

"An admirable aim indeed. And where does a mere man such as I belong in this grand vision?"

"You see, Mr Masters, throughout history few things have puzzled humanity more than life itself. The mystery of our own mortality and… what comes after. What say you?"

"'The last enemy that shall be defeated is death'. But I'm unsure as to why you think I can help with this puzzle."

"From what I have heard you are somewhat of an expert in this… particular field."

"I dabbled a little. It intrigued me when I was younger, but after an… unfortunate accident… I decided that I would be best served turning my attentions elsewhere. A profitable choice, as you can see."

"Quite understandable. But you do have information."

"And?"

"And we'd like to propose a deal. A contract of sorts."

From the briefcase at his side, Luthor withdrew a thin black file, sliding it delicately across the table. The elder opened it curiously, raising an eyebrow at the contents. A photograph of an attractive woman with cropped auburn hair featured prominently. He carefully examined the text that accompanied the image, eyes widening slightly before he regained his composure.

"You are a lucky man Mr Masters. Blessed with opportunities that come to only a rare few. But there was always one opportunity that evaded you - the greatest of them all. We would offer you that opportunity. A second chance… with a few undesirable variables removed."

The grey-haired businessman frowned thoughtfully as he contemplated the contents of the folder. It was a hugely valuable offer. Once in a lifetime perhaps.

"And in return?"

Lex smiled thinly. "Information"

Masters nodded to himself, seemingly reaching a conclusion.

"The beings you seek are… elusive. Powerful and mysterious, but difficult to find. They reside within their own plane and the rifts that form between our worlds are few and rarely last more than a moment; hardly long enough to support an expedition. But there is another option."

From his breast pocket Masters withdrew a slim smartphone, calling an image of two humanoid figures onto the screen.

"A rare breed. These are the only two I have encountered; possibly the only two in existence. Perhaps more useful to your research as they closely resemble humans and favour life on our side of the veil. Needless to say they can be energetic, powerful, wilful and supremely uncooperative. I can provide you with some of the equipment needed to take them into captivity. The government's paranormal investigation unit may also be of service. Not the field agents – they are notoriously gung-ho – but certain members of the research division might be persuaded… for the right price of course."

"And we will have your full co-operation in this?"

"Naturally. I will provide you with whatever you desire, be it within my power."

"Then we are agreed." Luthor extended his hand, smiling as Masters clasped it with a firm cool grip. "To a successful endeavour."

The elder man smiled thinly in return before pausing. "If I could ask a favour?"

Luthor raised a brow at the request.

"It's nothing serious. Forgive an old man's sentimentality but once you have the beings in your custody… You may do whatever you wish with the female, I have no interest in her. However, the male was the first of his kind that I encountered and, though he is wild, I will admit to having developed a certain fondness for the boy. So I would ask that, once you have discovered what you need, you would allow me to take possession of him; that is, if he is still in serviceable condition."

Lex nodded. "An interesting request. We will consider it."

"That's all I can ask, old friend."

Luthor's phone chimed gently. "I'm sorry, but I have another appointment to keep." He smiled apologetically at the older man as he placed files back into his dark case. "It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Masters. I'm sure we'll be in touch soon."

"I assure you Mr Luthor, the pleasure was mine."

Vlad turned towards the window as his enhanced hearing detected the departure of the elevator from his floor. The view was truly spectacular. Looking down at the black folder in his hands, Masters had to admit that the pieces had fallen into place perfectly. Only three things in life had escaped his grasp and within the space of a business meeting two were practically in the palm of his hand. Not that everything was guaranteed to work out. He had no illusions about Luthor's capacity to double-cross him. But while Lex may stand on par with Vladimir Masters, and occasionally be capable of outwitting a certain blue boy scout, he was a far cry from playing in the same league as Vlad Plasmius. It really was too bad that the existence of a third 'rare ghost' had slipped his mind during their talk. And as for his little badger…

He smirked. Luthor and his 'associates' were playing exactly into his hands. No doubt Daniel would eventually come to him seeking protection from his pursuers. And if not, well there was a high chance that his new colleagues would agree to relinquish the boy into his custody. After all, he could be very persuasive.

The sun dropped below the horizon, sending red and orange rays across the city. Taking in the skyline, Vlad allowed a true, cruel smile to claim his face. No trick of the evening light could disguise the scarlet glow in the businessman's usually blue eyes.

Now, if only he could get the Packers on side.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Chance Encounters

Looking down the deep shaft of the high speed elevator – a shaft that was conspicuously absent from the 2 story building's official blueprints – the three young heroes had to admit that there probably was something to the Batman's suspicions about Project Cadmus.

Then again, investigation was why they were there.

As he descended the shaft, feeling the vibrations in the cable as Aqualad and Kid Flash swung themselves down after him, a small part of Robin fumed internally. So they were 'not trained', 'not ready'; supposed to 'stay put' like good little kids while The League handled the big scary jobs. What a load! Yes they were young, but they definitely weren't some greenwood rookies who needed to have their hands held! And that was why they had come to Cadmus. To prove themselves. To beat the League at their own game; solve the case before their mentors even started looking. Sure, Bats was going to be less than whelmed when they got back, but if they did the job and did it clean then what was the harm? Besides, he smirked; it wouldn't be fun if they weren't a little reckless.

But back to business. They had bizarre genetics lab to investigate.

Reaching the end of his rope, Robin swung himself towards the shaft door of Sublevel 26, alighting on the ledge. Activating the holo-screen of the computer in his glove the Boy Wonder tapped into the local network, diving into the coding separating them from the facility.

"Bypassing securing… there. Go!"

"Welcome to Project Cadmus."

Things were definitely pushing the far boundaries of weird. The large elephant-troll-like creatures that had nearly stepped on Kid Flash hadn't done anything to convince the three heroes that Cadmus was normal. Even stranger was the feeling of shifting fog that had filled their heads at a look from the small, gnome-like beasts on the trolls' shoulders. The fact that they hadn't been in the building for more than 5 minutes before being spotted wasn't helping either.

As they moved towards the large metal door at the end of the hallway, the Boy Wonder had to admit that the fire above ground was a perfect diversion. With eyes drawn to the emergency at street level, there would be fewer people on alert for movement in the deep lab. With luck they would be able to get in, find what they needed and get out without causing an incident.

A few more lines of code on the holo-screen and, once again, the door lay open. The team gaped at the sight of the room. Glass cylinders stretched to the ceiling, the glowing creatures within buzzing and crackling as they supplied power to unknown machines. The eerie blue light cast deep, distorted shadows around the room, nearly concealing the computer bank at the centre. And the smallish, black-and-white clad figure standing there, typing quickly but furtively at the keys.

Looks like someone else had had the same idea.

The heroes froze, stepping back into the shadows. Contact with another person was definitely something to avoid, though the individual was currently occupied by the screen. Robin gave him a quick once over. Young, probably the same age as themselves. Pure white hair, fair skin and a black jumpsuit - possibly a chemical protection suit - accented by white gloves, collar, boots and belt. A faint white glow seemly surrounded his person, although that could have been trick of the strange light.

"Great," the mystery figure scowled at the screen "not only do the Fruitloops chase us all around the country, now I'm playing 'Where's Waldo?' with samples in a freaky lab."

He glanced upwards, scanning the room nervously. 'So, he's not meant to be here either' Robin noted, keeping as still as possible. Neon green eyes pierced the gloom, locking onto the Boy Wonder. They both froze, stiffening as they waited for the other to take action. The stranger stayed rigid, his eyes flickering away, picking out the silhouettes of Kid Flash and Aqualad. Robin noticed another flash of white - some kind of symbol on his chest. The boy suddenly exploded into action, twisting to the screen, rapidly opening and closing files before ripping a small thumbdrive from the console. Eyes wide with panic he sprang away from the computers, vanishing into thin air. The three heroes felt a gust of wind, something passed them at great speed.

Then he was gone.

Robin exhaled shakily, torn between relief and greater anxiety. He shared a nervous look with the others. If they were going to investigate Cadmus they had to do it now, before any more unpleasant surprises showed up.

Kid Flash looked around the room, searching for a place to start. The speedster gestured towards the electrical, beetle-like creatures in the glass tubes.

"This is how they hide this massive underground facility from the world. The real Cadmus isn't on the grid. It generates its own power using these… things. Must be what they're bred for."

Robin nodded. Cadmus was the mission. The mystery boy could wait for another time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Shadow of Doubt

"Do you have them?"

"Yes."

"Closing in now."

"Good. Stay in pursuit. Do not engage unless necessary. We must discover the source, along with any and all other participants involved."

The three heroes moved quietly to follow the pair of figures as they walked into an abandoned office. Slipping to the ground, Aqualad cautiously entered through an emergency exit. Robin remained on the outside, leaping silently from the scaffold of a nearby building to manoeuvre his way along the sculpted ridge that wrapped below the windows. Artemis took her position on an adjacent roof, long-range microphone primed as she moved stealthily from window to window, maintaining a clear shot.

The mission was unusual, but straightforward. Over the past two weeks an apparent 'wave of depression' had swept a large corner of Portland, Oregon. The 'wave' had overtaken the majority of the people in the region, evidenced in falling school grades and work productivity, rising absenteeism, increased reports of mental episodes, suicides; despite stable economic conditions. Usually the League wouldn't take active interest in such matters – leaving it to local authorities and services – but the encounter with Starro-tech at New Year's increased the priority of any reports of large-scale abnormal behaviour. Especially suspect was the fact that the 'wave' occurred in a city where Zeta-tube access was currently disabled; a combined product of poor weather and a systematic upgrade of the whole network in attempt to increase security following the aforementioned incident with Vandal Savage and his 'Light'. A team was sent in, taking the bioship to investigate. The parameters were simple: identify any common denominators, discover the source of 'the wave' - should it exist – and, if possible, apprehend the responsible individuals.

Selection of teammates was one of availability. Dr. Fate had reluctantly called for Zatanna's aid in investigating a new lead on the whereabouts of the witch boy, Klarion. Rocket was off-world, assisting Icon on personal business. Wally, M'gann and Conner all had civilian commitments. Which left Aqualad, Artemis and Robin to investigate; though Batman informed them that Superman and Martian Manhunter were standing by if needed.

After four days they had identified what looked to be a pair of key players in the outbreak. Investigation, both as civilians during daylight and in full capacity after dark, had flagged a common point among the worst affected areas. One Penelope Simmons and her assistant, Bertrand Rossi. Employment records, surveillance photographs and witness statements described a tall, leonine woman, red hair pulled into a professional bun, accompanied by a stocky, grey-haired gentleman. The pair had been sighted working as therapists and councillors at a number of schools and free clinics frequented by the effected population. Some casual hacking by Robin revealed a more disturbing detail: no record of the duo existed beyond the levels needed to pass the background checks for their positions. There was none of the incidental evidence that came with a real person. Undercover operatives seemed likely. Security footage had captured the pair coming and going at unusual hours of the night - presumably meeting other partners who supplied the chemicals or technology that kept the population under their depressive control.

With this information the team had opted to follow the supposed 'therapists' on their nightly venture. The teenaged heroes moved quietly as they tracked the pair through the long-emptied cubicles and conference rooms. Artemis patched the conversation registered by her microphone to the com sets of her teammates.

"Do you think we have enough yet?" A polished male voice – 'Mr Rossi' – asked in clipped tones.

"Oh, my dear," a smooth female voice – undoubtedly 'Ms Simmons' – replied with a laugh, "of course we do. By why stop at a slice when we can take the whole cake?"

"Planning to expand their operations?" Aqualad murmured quietly into his com.

"Sounds like it," Robin whispered back.

"The big question is," came Artemis' voice down the link "how're they doing it to start with?"

"Oh, Bertrand?" Simmons spoke casually to her assistant as the pair moved into a large workspace, "It seems we're being rude. Would you be so kind as to greet our guests?"

The pair outside heard a shout from Kaldur's position as a growl sounded from the building. Robin vaulted over the window frame, dropping in quietly to assist his friend. A crash from the opposite wall told him that Artemis had had the same idea, rappelling through the glass to aid their downed teammate. Neither was fully prepared for what they saw.

The grey haired gentleman – Bertrand – was nowhere to be found. Instead, Aqualad had hit the ground, rolling out of the way as a glowing green, bear-like creature with iridescent red eyes charged the fallen Atlantean. Robin frantically gestured for Artemis to assist their comrade, running to distract Simmons, who was watching the struggle with an amused smile. He heard the twang of bowstrings as the archer launched her assault, reaching into his own belt to hurl a smoke pellet at the smirking woman. He flung a set of bolas as the dark fog erupted, seeing the weighted cable spread as it entered the cloud. Robin waited for the sound that would tell him that the ties had successfully entrapped their target, but it never came. Instead, Simmons strode calmly out of the smoke, smile even wider than before.

"Now, is that any way to treat a lady?"

The Boy Wonder recovered quickly, firing the cables of his taser to deliver a small electric shock; enough to put the woman out for an hour or so. His eyes widened as her form became transparent, the sparking barbs passing cleanly through her body. 'Martian?' he wondered, changing tactics. This time he launched a low-level explosive disk – strong enough to generate heat and stagger a person, but not enough to severely injure. Even if she was Martian it would definitely give her something to think about.

He was stunned when, instead of dodging, the woman carelessly caught the device, allowing it to detonate in her hand. Robin's throat tightened as the smoke cleared to reveal an inky black shadow with merciless red eyes. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't human. His eyes went to the green creature, immediately drawing the connection between the beast and the short grey man. 'What are these things?' From the sound of it, Artemis and Kaldur were having similar difficulties against their opponent, but with slightly more success. Robin quickly turned back to the shadow, launching his more heavy-duty projectiles. His attempts were unsuccessful, the creature either fading into her - its - seemingly intangible state or dissolving into formless mist as it allowed the weapons to pass harmlessly by. Gritting his teeth Robin drew the escrima sticks from his belt, relying on the fact that M'gann and J'onn had to stay solid to strike at close quarters. He leapt back with a startled shout as the being fired a flame-like energy blast from its hands, moving in quickly to close the distance before it could resume fire.

The Boy Wonder dropped low, trying to sweep the thing's legs out from beneath it; only to have his kick pass cleanly through as the being turned transparent again. Rolling onto his back, Robin drove both feet upwards at the shadow's chest. This time he connected, knocking it back a step. It growled deep in its throat, lashing out as he regained his footing. He sidestepped, dodging the swipes and bolts of cold fire as he aimed for specific points found on humans, atlanteans and aliens, hoping to discover a weakness. He skipped away from a claw, deflected a kick with a gloved hand, threw himself over its head in a flip as it lunged bodily. The creature twisted with inhuman speed, racing for him as he landed.

Robin crouched defensively, absorbing the blow with the exposed skin of his triceps. Icy fire trickled through his veins. Acid churned in his stomach, his throat tightened and a prickling mix of dread and despair swept through him as the creature continued to grasp at his bare arm. He wrenched himself away from the contact, staggering slightly as his heel caught on the uneven floor. The place where the shadow had grabbed him stung as though burned or frozen. The thing broke into an unpleasant grin as it watched, eyes gleaming curiously.

"Oh, but you are interesting," it purred, stalking forwards. The Boy Wonder flung himself backwards, wary of the malignant, poisoned touch.

"Robin!" The Atlantean had seen him stumble.

"I'm fine, keep going!" He called to Kaldur, watching his friend dodge a blow from the corner of his eye. "Take him down; I'll hold this one off!" He flung another disk, this time aiming for ground in front of the creature. Victory was short lived as the shadow prowled unharmed from the blast, reaching toward him with a twisted hand.

"And how are you going to do that hmmm, little Robin?" The creature's soft voice was filled with poisoned malice, "Tiny, tiny birdie all weighed down by chains, so afraid…" the last word was drawn out with relish, barely reaching his ears. He lashed out, letting training take over, raining down a flurry of precision blows in attempt to drive the shadow back. It laughed breathlessly, "Oh look at you trying so hard to fight, to play at hero… but you can't. You can't. Knowing all the while you're going to fall…" its eyes glowed, "just like they did." Robin's breath hitched and suddenly he was nine, standing on a platform, watching… No. No. He was fourteen. He was on a mission, his team needed him. He kicked with all his strength, horrified as the creature simply wavered into dark smoke before advancing. An arrow and a rope of water flew harmlessly by, and still the creature moved forward, whispers unceasing. "One... two... three... four… five," Robin tried to back away, tried to shut out the words, but they kept coming. "You were there little bird. Could have tried. Could have, should have, would have… didn't. You'll never forget, never forgive yourself." A cruel smile spread as it leaned forward to speak, almost lovingly, in his ear, "And more importantly: They'll never forgive you." Dick staggered, reeling. Iron filled his throat, bands tightened around his heart. Memories and darkness flooded in, unerring, unstoppable. Merciless. No. He wasn't. He couldn't. He didn't. No-nononono he didn't want. Didn't mean to... A kick ripped across his torso, flinging him away. Something slammed into his back and he slid to the floor. He fumbled for his belt, fighting the dark clouds, desperate for anything, anything, knowing all the while that it was hopeless. He was going to fail. He already had.

The creature smiled cruelly. "Such a scared little boy. But now my toy is broken. Guess I'll have to find another."

Robin watched helplessly as it turned on Kaldur and Artemis. His friends had almost subdued the green beast, which was slinking backwards, outline ragged, but the shadow was too strong. He struggled to shift the fog, to push himself upright as they engaged the monster. He felt rather than saw the blows, hearing them stagger, hearing cracks and crashes as they lashed out blindly, trying to hold the creature back. He shivered at the sound of the whispers, feeling the ragged pain, the torment they promised for his friends. Artemis gasped and he heard Aqualad's grunt of pain as a body hit the wall.

"Ooooh," the shadow taunted, voice delighted. "If I'd know all teenage goody-goodies were such waterfalls of misery I'd have done this years ago. Maybe I should keep you hmmm? You'd make such nice pets."

Robin fumbled blindly for the spare com on his belt, unsure if he'd be able to get the words out; to tell the League just how badly they needed backup. He heard Artemis hit a desk, crashing through to the floor. The creature loomed victoriously. It raised a clawed hand and-

The shadow was thrown backwards, away from the downed teens. The creature hissed as it hit the floor, gesturing to its partner. The green being's form wavered as it morphed into a large cat-like beast. It crouched and growled, lunging at something unseen, only to be shunted forwards by the unknown force. The puma was suddenly lifted and carried cleanly through the wall, leaving no damage in its wake. Furious snarls and what could be a detonation erupted from outside.

The shadow rolled to its feet, expression irate. "Ecto-brat! Can't a gal have a little fun?"

"Sorry Spectra," The voice came out of nowhere, echoing through the chaos. A blast of green fire flew from the corner, striking the creature, "I don't think they want to play." Robin pushed himself weakly to his knees, searching for their unexpected ally. The shadow released a wave of energy in the direction of the fire. Someone huffed as an unseen object collided with the wall.

"I need your help."

Robin started as the echoing voice spoke softly beside him. He shivered, trying to push away the crying doubt as he glanced in the direction of the unseen speaker.

"She," Robin assumed the voice meant the shadow, "has to stay tangible to hit you. And she can't do her mist trick properly if she's distracted. Back me up?"

Memory of the pain roared in his mind, urging him to hide. Robin swallowed shakily against the sudden fear, nodding as he watched the being stalk towards the corner.

"Hiding little pest? You always were the coward," the creature called, head turning as it searched the room. It lashed out at Robin's attempted movement sending a wave of energy towards the Boy Wonder. He rolled away weakly, feeling it graze his stinging arm. Something slammed the shadow again, making it stagger. It laughed mercilessly.

"You think you can save them hero? Ha! You can barely save yourself."

A low growl sounded in response, green fire flying at the shadow, who passed through it like water. The monster smiled cruelly, reaching out to grasp an unseen throat, pinning it to the wall.

"Please, you think you can win? You couldn't protect your family, couldn't save your friends… why would this be any different?" Robin fumbled for a batarang, throwing it clumsily at the creature's back. His aim was off but it had the desired effect. The shadow whipped around, face twisting with anger. Fixated on him, it didn't see the glowing energy that welled up against its chest, flinging it away from its would-be victim.

"Why all the invisibility hmm?" the creature taunted as it climbed to its feet. "Afraid that your new playmates will be horrified by your hybrid self? That they'll reject you like the freak you are?"

More green fire, this time accompanied by thin spines of ice. The creature wavered into black mist, steeping lithely out of the way as it continued.

"How convenient for you little halfa, everyone dying like that. You'll never have to worry about their reaction. Safe to pretend that they'd have been able to love an abomination." The shadow's form solidified as it lashed out again. Robin took his chance, flinging an explosive disk towards the monster. This time it saw the projectile, wavering out of tangibility and firing a concentrated ball of flames his way. The Boy Wonder threw himself desperately to the side as green light flared in front of him and a shockwave rippled through the air. Robin saw a pair of white-booted feet flicker into visibility, hearing a grunt as a body hit the wall. Then the creature was speaking again.

"Oh… how sad. And you never got to tell her. How you felt." It snorted derisively, voice full of sadistic glee. "As if she could ever love you." A black and white blur and a snarl answered as their newly-visible ally launched at the shadow, hands alight with green flames. The creature snarled in return as it grappled with the figure, throwing it into the metal lockers at the side of the room. Robin watched in mute horror as they fell, smothering their would-be rescuer, hiding him from sight. The monster tossed a few fireballs into the wreckage, outline blurring as it turned dismissively away. He had weakened it. But the shadow was nowhere near gone.

"That's it? Oh well." It turned back to the team, eyes shining coldly as it prowled towards the Boy Wonder. His throat closed over. "Now you on the other hand. I was almost tempted to keep you, but you've been a very bad boy. And I can't stand loose ends…" Cold fire lit its hands once more as it stepped forward. Robin struggled backwards, falling, mind going blank as dark clouds flooded in. It smiled. "Are you afraid?"

"Hey Spectra…" the shadow whirled back to the twisted metal, coming face to face with a green and white mechanical cylinder. The device hummed, emitting blue-white rings that encircled the creature, compressing it fluidly into the tube. A silver cap was slammed over the open mouth by a white-gloved hand. Their benefactor smirked tiredly, leaning heavily against the ruined lockers, "…beware."

Broken silence filled the room, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of four teens.

Robin stared up at their unexpected saviour, stunned. Pain dragged him down, fogging his vision. His mind was whirling, chest and throat burning… but the figure before him was unmistakeable. It was the boy from Cadmus. He was thinner, more ragged than Robin remembered; white hair long and shaggy. But there was no denying the glowing neon eyes or the distinctive black and white suit, despite the rips and charring that decorated the latter.

The boy walked over to Aqualad, stumbling slightly as he shifted nearby rubble to make room for the Atlantean. Artemis' bow was gently retrieved from the mess as the shivering archer rolled away from the splintered table.

Robin pushed himself upright, approaching their mysterious ally. His chest throbbed, eyes prickling unpleasantly. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the broken smallness out of his voice as he spoke.

"Hey. Thanks for the save." He extended his hand in greeting. It surprised him when his fingers didn't tremble.

The teen jumped slightly, twisting round to face him. His green eyes were haunted, but he forced a small grin of his own before reaching out hesitantly to shake the proffered appendage.

"Glad I could help. Will you be okay?" The stranger's voice had an odd echo, carrying the same aching edge that the Boy Wonder had tried to conceal in his own.

Robin hid a flinch at the question. At that moment he felt anything but. He nodded, supressing a shudder. "Yeah, we're good."

"We thank you for your assistance." The boy stepped swiftly backwards, turning to face Aqualad as he climbed to his feet, soft voice dull. "I am sorry, but we do not know your name."

"I'm nobody special," the boy replied quietly. He gave a faint, mysterious smile, "just a ghost."

And before they could say anything else he darted away, passing through the wreckage that filled the room. The trio slowly and painfully gathered, negotiating their own way carefully to the bioship. It was not a good night to be a hero.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Scars

The squad flew back to the cave in shaken silence. They had failed. The threat had been contained, but not by them. They had never felt so powerless. The beast had beaten them with no apparent effort, toying with them until their mysterious ally had arrived; drawing its attention and trapping it in that strange device. All three had faced failure before, but this was different. Of the team, they were among the most emotionally controlled. Yet, somehow, that had all been compromised during the night's loss. How had it known? How had the shadow known exactly what to say - the precise words that would reopen old scars, drag dark fears into the light, leave them weak, small and utterly alone? The tearing pain had eased with the disappearance of the creature, but the wounds it left lay bleeding; and so the quiet was filled with untold torment. The snap of a rope and the cries of falling bodies echoed across the years. A nine year old Artemis watched her sister slip away, family falling apart. Once again Aqualad felt the hands of his beloved pull from his as she told him that her heart belonged to another. Memories whispered behind half-closed doors.

The silhouette of Mt. Justice rose from the horizon. The feelings it brought, of safety, trust, home, reached out to the heroes. A collective sigh breached the silence as the night's turmoil began a slow and reluctant retreat. Dark clouds remained, but a sense of calm and purpose touched the teens, drawing them back to the present. Three questions murmured to Robin.

Who was the mysterious figure? Why had he run? Where was he now?

"Regardless of how other aspects of the mission played out, your team fulfilled its primary objective. The threat has been removed. Your performance was satisfactory." Batman was being generous. The mission had gone badly. But looking at the already subdued trio, he felt no need for a harsh reprimand. Robin stood shamefaced; smile forced, shoulders almost imperceptibly slumped, devoid of quips for the first time in months. Artemis' greeting had been overly cheerful, never reaching her eyes. She chewed her lower lip as she listened. On the surface Kaldur'ahm seemed his usual calm self, but faint lines around his mouth and the nervousness with which he curled his hands told the Dark Knight that the team's leader was equally rattled. Something had happened.

"I apologise, but I must protest." The Atlantean countered their supervisor. "Though we tried, our performance tonight was not satisfactory. We failed. It was not us who detained the creature."

"Explain."

"We engaged the being, but our attacks were ineffective. It had nearly overpowered us when a," Batman noted the split-second hesitation before Aqualad continued, "civilian intervened. It was through his involvement that the creature was captured. We were… inadequate."

"And the civilian?"

"Injured, but not severely. He left before we could question him. I am sorry." Artemis and Robin nodded in agreement, eyes downcast. Batman frowned behind his mask.

"Very well. Analyse the information you obtained. If there are others creatures like this, we must be prepared to face them. Report back to the League with your findings."

"We will. But there is something else. Information regarding an older, more personal, matter. May I speak with you privately?" Batman suspected that the 'personal matter' was related to the younger hero's earlier hesitation. He nodded.

"I have some time. Aqualad: with me. The rest of you: dismissed. Get some rest, you need it. Report for training at 0600 hours."

The trio dispersed as the other members of the team joined their friends in the main room. The remaining two began to relax, safe in the warmth of familiar company.

Kid Flash looked over to his friend with poorly concealed concern. Robin had been abnormally quiet since his return from the mission. Actually, all three of them had been. Artemis hadn't called him 'Baywatch' even once. Something was off.

"You feeling okay Rob'? You don't look so hot."

"…hm?" The speedster's question pulled the Boy Wonder from the dull veils of doubt and grief. The pain of the shadow's words was fading but their echoes still haunted him, just like he knew they did Kaldur and Artemis.

"Oh, yeah yeah KF, all good." Robin gave his friend an easy smile – one that would have fooled Wally if the speedster didn't know Dick so well. "Bummed that the mission fell through, but not much we can do, right? Still… lots to think about. Feeling a little overwhelmed at the minute." The younger hero headed for the zeta tubes, keying in the code for Gotham. "I'm gonna go play detective for a bit – there's something I need to check out. Later, dude."

Recognised: Robin. B-01

Kid Flash sent a half-hearted glare in the direction of the tunnel, worries lessened but by no means gone. Overwhelmed. Robin had said overwhelmed. Whatever had happened, it was big.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Phenomenon

From his place among the rooftops of Seattle, Robin frowned as the phenomenon of the previous few nights repeated itself. He waited and, sure enough, within seconds a dark-haired boy in a hooded jacket appeared in the shadows of a nearby alley; exactly the same place where the signal from the tracer had cut out mere moments before.

Robin was grateful for all the years working with Batman. After the encounter with the shadow creature - 'Spectra, wasn't it?' - he would have written himself off as non-functional, but somehow training had kicked in and, almost by reflex, he had accosted their mysterious benefactor, using the handshake as cover to coat the young stranger's glove with micro-tracer gel. Not, he frowned, that tracking the signal down had been easy after that.

The Boy Wonder would admit to feeling less than astrous when the first attempt to locate the tracker had resulted in a glaring 'no signal' alert. Disappointment had quickly turned to confusion - the residual gel on his own glove was functioning just fine, but if the tracker wasn't on the blink then what was happening? Then, after two days of radio silence, as Robin was beginning to worry that their only solid lead had somehow slipped away, the tracer came online in the dead of the night, now one state over. Relief was short-lived when, after only a few hours, it went off-line again. The signal continued to sporadically appear and disappear over the next few days, a pattern quickly becoming clear. Every night, sometime after sundown, the beacon would come online, moving through the city. Then, in the early hours of the morning, before sunrise, it would vanish. Clearly their new 'friend' was almost as nocturnal as the Bat. Better yet, the signal seemed centre itself around a particular place. Plotting the points where the beacon had appeared and disappeared, Robin traced a rough circle. A dead zone of approximately three block radius in a more industrialised part of town. With this information, an excursion was in order for Gotham's infamous duo. The hunt was on for an elusive quarry.

Down in the alley, the boy was on the move. Robin shook himself out of his musings as he followed silently from the rooftops. This too was part of the pattern. They would follow the tracker around the city, which their target seemed to invisibly patrol. They would head towards the 'dead zone', where the signal would vanish. And then the boy would appear, apparently out of nowhere, always in the cover of deep shadows or other obstacles. The deep hood of his baggy jacket and the dark glasses he normally wore made it hard to see his face, but from his height and build Robin guessed that he was young. Probably in his mid to late teens; even early twenties if he was a late bloomer. The boy walked the streets with the casual wariness of someone out late in a rough neighbourhood. Or at least, that was what a civilian would think. Robin's trained eye picked up the tighter shoulders, the small motions that betrayed that fact that this person was on high alert. Their target continued to wander, path seemingly random, but Robin knew from experience where the trail would lead. The boy was heading for the storage lockup near the centre of the zone. Every night, the boy's walks eventually led him to the business, either to the front door or down the alley to the side, upon which he, much like the tracker, would vanish. Robin made a note to canvas the building and hack its systems once the night's patrol was finished.

He frowned, considering a possibility that had occurred to him the previous day. The tracker would vanish whenever the boy appeared. Always in the same place, and within seconds of each other. Not that there wasn't such thing as coincidence, but the same coincidence night after night? Definitely suspicious. Obviously their normally-invisible friend was connected to this other stranger, but how closely? Apart from height and build, the two looked little alike. Then again, neither did Billy and Captain Marvel. Was the same thing possible here? He didn't know. Something told him his guess was right, but it instinctively felt off, wrong even. There was just something about the white-haired kid that the dark-haired boy didn't have. He shrugged mentally. Either way, the new boy was a much more tangible lead than their current target. If they didn't make contact soon, the kid would probably get a visit from the Bat.

Even compared to the unbelievable things Robin had done with the team, this particular mission was nudging onto the strange radar. But then again, if he had guessed correctly, the person they were dealing with definitely didn't fit any known description of normal. He shook his head disbelievingly, thinking of the 'research' that had led them to their current stakeout.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Ghost Stories

It was really getting ridiculous. In his years with Batman and months on the team, Robin had met with lords of order, chaotic demon children, clones, aliens, deep sea dwellers, androids and more. He had even been lucky enough to kiss a certain sorceress at New Year's while in orbit on a secret satellite. But never did the young detective think that he would ever be forced to take the urban legends of a small town and cuttings from paranormal blogs as the most solid leads on a case. By now he should know better than to expect the universe to make sense.

As soon as he had had a spare moment in the chaos that followed the Cadmus incident, Robin had tried to identify the mysterious figure from the power room. But, to his surprise, all leads had come up blank. The person didn't work for Cadmus; employment files and statements from Guardian confirmed it, if the boy's reaction to being discovered hadn't been evidence enough. Next Robin had searched all League, Arkham, Belle Reve and other records of superhumans and nonhumans for anyone who fitted the stranger's estimated age range and physical description, could turn invisible or shapeshift. Once again, there was no match – whoever this person was, they weren't in the system. In mild desperation he had contacted Guardian to pull the video feed from the power room on the night of the fire. If he could get a freeze frame of the boy he could run a broader facial recognition sweep. But that led to another problem. Someone had somehow modified the tapes, replacing the figure with scrambled pixels in every image. They had done a surprisingly thorough job too, resisting all attempts to peel back the distorting code. Whoever it was, they knew their way around computers. With that thought, the Boy Wonder tried to follow the activity on the computer used by the stranger; if he knew what the boy had been searching for he might be able to work backwards. But the terminal records were blank – there was no evidence that anyone had touched the machine from the time the fire was reported. Each and every lead he tried ran cold. It was as if the boy didn't exist.

The enigma continued to occupy a small corner of Robin's mind during his first month as part of the League's new covert ops team. Something to return to when things were quiet; poking and prodding the issue like an impossible Rubik's cube, looking for the one angle, slant or twist that would shift everything into alignment. But as time passed, new members joined and more important cases had come to light, the Boy Wonder put it out of his mind - much like Wally and Kaldur had done long ago.

Then the mysterious figure was suddenly thrust back to the forefront of their attentions. Robin had been driven to pacing the Batcave in sheer frustration - how was he meant to find a new lead when he had already exhausted every option! There was no video feed of the fight and, although none of them would admit it, he, Artemis and Kaldur were all too shaken by the shadow creature and its words to remember many useful details. He had planted a tracker but - much like any semblance of logic on this mission - it had fallen through. The stranger himself had been less than helpful with his cryptic… wait. "just a ghost". That's what the boy had said. Robin had laughed at the thought. But what if…? Common sense had already jumped ship; that was painfully clear. So perhaps an illogical approach, "a truly dumb idea" as they had once put it, was the answer to solving this case.

"You have a new lead." The Batman's voice echoed faintly through the duo's headquarters as he moved silently to his protégé's side.

"Yes and no. I've found something, but it's not exactly tangible"

"In what way?" Robin could almost hear Batman's eyebrow lifting. He smirked internally, knowing how his mentor would react to the next revelation.

"What are your thoughts on ghosts?"

Batman frowned. Dick may have a love for the cryptic and dramatic, but the young detective certainly wasn't one for childish fantasy. Obviously he had found something important, and at the moment the Dark Knight wasn't in the mood for their usual games.

"What did you find?"

Robin grumbled mentally at the blunt reply, allowing his gloved hands to dance across the keyboard of the control panel. Files and blurry photos filled the largest screen, mostly news articles and paranormal blogs. Batman noted a small handful of government watermarked documents in the mix.

"Kaldur told you about the 'help' we had on the mission, when he met with you after the briefing?" The Dark Knight nodded in affirmation though he knew it wasn't really a question. "I don't know if he mentioned this as well, but we've seen that boy before. A while ago - Independence Day - at project Cadmus." Another nod.

"After our first encounter I tried to find out who the kid was. I looked down all the normal routes and then some, but couldn't find anything. No records, no photos, videos, nothing. He wasn't on any League or other lists of known super's. He even managed to hack the Cadmus system and blur his own image on the video feed, as well as wiping any trace of his activity from the computers. Did a whelmingly good job too – I couldn't bring back the originals no matter what I threw at them. I followed all the other leads I could think of, but there wasn't anything solid out there to find, so I let it drop." Robin chuckled humourlessly "I probably would have called hallucination if KF and Aqualad hadn't seen him too."

"And when he reappeared?"

"I went been back over all the old data with the new intel, but nothing useful stood out. I thought I might have a new lead, but it went dead fast. I planted a tracker," Robin made a frustrated gestured to a screen off to one side, still resolutely blank, "but it's been offline ever since. We're stuck at the status quo – he doesn't officially exist."

"Except for the fact that you've seen and made contact with him on several occasions."

"Exactly. Then I remembered something he said before running off. He mentioned being a ghost. I thought he was just being cryptic, but then I wondered. After all, invisibility, walking through walls? So I started looking up stories. One in particular got me."

Robin gestured to the main screen, filled with headlines - 'Invis-O-Bill Strikes Again', 'Danny Phantom Saves Kids', 'A Phantom Menace?' ,'Ghost-Boy to the Rescue'.

"An urban legend, the 'Phantom of Amity Park'. Apparently protects the town. According to the myths, he takes the shape of a young boy or teenager, with white hair, green eyes and a black and white suit. Description matches our mystery man almost perfectly."

"Why didn't the League know about this?"

"Because, from what I've read, Amity Park has a long-running reputation for ghost stories. Locals have been claiming sightings for decades now, though 'reports' only became common around 2 years back. The league sent someone to look into it a few years earlier, but with no solid evidence of paranormal activity it was pretty much written off as a tourist grab. It did attract a number of so-called ghost-specialists and hunters to the town, but no-one heard much on that front either. The people of Amity seem to take it as their calling card. They released statements claiming ghosts were responsible for some major events – remember the plant fiasco and freak storms the year before last?"

"There was a jailbreak at Arkham. Poison Ivy was one of the prisoners to escape. The source of the storms was never traced – presumably a natural disaster."

"Well, rumours from Amity claimed that ghosts had a hand in both. The plant incident was never given a name, but supposedly a being called 'Vortex' was the cause of the bad weather. In both stories, the person who stopped the ghosts was this 'Phantom'. The league didn't investigate because other, genuine, villains were coming forward claiming credit. Amity's ghost stories did, however, attract the attention of the former government paranormal investigation unit – codenamed 'Guys in White'. They were shut down just under a year ago, due to a long record of spectacularly failed missions and generally poor conduct. Massive property damage caused, as well as severe injury to a number of bystanders in one case - which lead to the fatality that ultimately sealed their fate. A few of the higher-ups went private after the incident, and the files were mostly wiped but I did manage to retrieve this."

The Boy Wonder pulled up one of the watermarked files. A pair of images depicted a black-clad, white-haired teen around Robin's own age, apparently glowing and floating in the sky. One showed the boy seemingly on patrol over the town, while in the other he was engaging with a large robotic being, flipping backwards over the creature's head. "Based on the meta-data, these pictures were taken a year and a half ago or thereabouts. I've run them through the normal programs, but there's no evidence of doctoring. Apparently the ghost-boy is legit."

"That has implications of its own. We investigated but…"

"Exactly. The 'ghost king' incident. A whole town doesn't just fall off the radar. Locals and legends claim that an ancient ghost tyrant - 'Pariah Dark' - pulled the town into his own private dimension as the start of some sort of undead invasion. Once again, 'Phantom' saved the day. Naturally, the official story was a lot more routine."

"A local research laboratory, Axion, reported a generator overload in one of their chemical storage compounds." Batman recalled, "It caused an EMP surge that knocked down communications in the town and surrounds while the blast damaged a containment unit and some filter systems. An experimental chemical - Ax915p - contaminated the water supply, and was also released as a vapour. Fortunately harmless, but with apparent psychoactive effects. They were in the process of clean-up when our own team arrived." The Dark Knight's eyes narrowed as he continued. The cover-up, if there was one, was disturbingly elaborate. "The evidence was sound. Our team found trace amounts of chemical in the town water. The generator and facility showed damage reflective of an overload. Zatara personally searched for residual mystic energy and found levels only slightly above average, no indication of a large paranormal event. The ghost stories were attributed to mass hallucination and the town's natural superstition."

"But now?"

"That's a League matter. We will investigate and members of the delegation we sent will be questioned. You have other priorities. 'Phantom' is clearly a person of interest. If he lives in Amity-"

"That's part of the problem Bats. 'The Phantom' isn't in Amity Park anymore. According to the stories, he disappeared last year, after a series of disasters damaged the local school and levelled the home and business of the town's most prominent ghost researchers-come-hunters. Reports of ghost attacks dropped off around that time too. Some people think he was sent to guard the town in its time of need, or as a warning of the coming catastrophes. Others claim he went home – or back to wherever ghosts come from. We have no idea where he is."

"Perhaps you do." A light had flickered into being on the smaller screen. Robin nearly went weak with relief. Finally, a lead among the legends. He grinned at his mentor.

Batman looked up at the newly active tracer beacon with the barest hint of amusement. "It seems we have a ghost in the machine."

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Brave Faces

Danny ran his hand through overlong black hair, scrubbing wearily at his eyes as he walked to the back of the storage unit that had been 'home' for the last 10 days. 10 days… he'd have to move on soon, it was risky to stay more than 2 weeks in any one place. Dusk was falling over the city outside. At this point he'd usually be preparing for a night's patrol, waiting until the shadows were deepest before setting out invisibly to scour the town for danger, any clues about his pursuers. But tonight…

Exhaustion seeped into his bones, casting a grey veil over the world. He was well-acquainted with the feeling; constant tiredness was a natural consequence of nine months of running. Tonight though, it was different. It all felt wrong, off-kilter somehow. The shadows were darker, the bite of the air colder. The world was a vast, unfamiliar place and he was facing it alone.

He wished Cujo was still there. The tiny green guard dog had dug his way out of the Zone within a day of settling into his current hiding place. The pup's hyperactive, happy presence had been a major concern - it was difficult enough to keep hidden on his own - but the sheer fact that someone was waiting for him 'at home' had been an immeasurable comfort. Entertaining his playful companion was a welcome distraction from the dark clouds that had been building since his encounter with Spectra and the junior Leaguers. He regretted having to send the puppy back to the other side, but the risk of discovery was too high and Danny couldn't bear the idea of his small friend being hurt or captured.

Now he was alone again, and the silence was deafening. For three months he had managed it, operating almost on autopilot, staying hidden, chasing down new leads. But life kept building and building, and sooner or later it had to come crashing down. That was why he had sent Danielle away. No matter how he tried, he couldn't keep being strong, couldn't keep putting on the same brave face he had managed before the accident. 'Jazz, Tucker, Sam…' even though they were on the run the five of them had been together, one team, one family. Unstoppable.

Unbreakable.

' Why did they have to be on that train?'

Hopefully Dani was safely in the Far Frozen with Frostbite by now. He couldn't protect his cousin anymore, not on his own. Couldn't keep her safe, couldn't provide for her properly… definitely couldn't stand the thought of making her worry. She deserved better than that. The polar ghosts would take care of her, train her, keep her happy.

The half-ghost settled in the corner of the bunker, draping a blanket loosely around his shoulders. He had an ice-core, but it was January and the floor of the storage locker was cold. He leaned into the wall, drawing up his knees as he tried to shut out the memories that had been whispering to him since the fight.

His Dad's booming victory cry and Mom's gentle laugh echoed in his ears. His sister's fingers reached out to tweak his nose. His shoulder twitched from a playful shove, best friend's eyes flashing wickedly behind his glasses. Sam's hand gently folded around his in a rare show of comfort. His heart ached under the weight of questions unanswered and words left unsaid.

Alone in the darkness, far from everything he held dear, for the first time in many months Danny Fenton allowed himself to cry.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Expectations

The tracker hadn't come online.

The Gotham duo crept silently through the storage facility, an undercurrent of tension lending urgency to their calculated movements. The beacon had been online every night since they had picked it up. Suddenly the pattern had changed. And, while neither would admit it, the change made the pair very anxious. It was too similar to the time directly after Robin planted the tracer. The signal had skipped over cities before activating. The same thing could be happening now. It could have already happened. They might lose their lead.

Which meant it was time for another approach. The dark-haired boy was now their primary focus. His nightly wanderings always brought him back to the locker business.

9… 8… 7… the duo counted down the numbers on the storage vaults as they approached their target. They had hacked the company's flimsy network the night before. One of the larger lockups had been hired out just over a week ago. By a 'Damien John Ferguson' who, according to the ID on file, was 18. Robin had his doubts about that last part. The photo on the licence showed a young man with raven hair and solemn blue eyes. Possible match.

They had reached unit 4. Robin smirked. Deliberate or not, the Chinese number for death seemed a fitting place to end the ghost chase. Batman was already working on the lock, picks in hand as he teased the tumblers into alignment. The Boy Wonder drew a small canister from his belt, spraying lubricant along the tracks of the door. The last thing they needed was for a squeaky joint to give the game away. He activated the holo-screen of his computer, calling up the thermal scanner. Three signatures. Him, Bats and one other. Looks like their mystery man was inside… 'weird - his reading is way low, even with the door blocking the signal'. Acting in unison teen and mentor lifted the door and slipped in quietly, closing the entrance behind them.

It was dark. The lockers had no internal lights and – were it not for the faint sounds of the city – the blackness could have passed for the void. Robin pulled out a light stick, twisting the top to activate the mechanism. A dim glow slowly began to fill the bunker. As it brightened, the Boy Wonder half-expected to see a chemical lab, computer banks, even a séance room – something befitting a secretive 'haunt'. Clearly he'd been spending too much time at the cave. The light finally reached the back corner. Robin paused, allowing himself to process the scene. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't this.

The bunker was largely empty, the glow from Robin's lamp highlighting the starkness of bare walls and cold concrete floor. Two dark bundles lay at the far back. The pair stepped forward, stopping as the contents came sharply into focus. A traveller's backpack leaned against the wall near the centre, a black sports bag lying open beside it. A faded sweater peeked through the zip, along with a large bottle of water and what looked like the remains of a loaf of bread. A few smaller bottles had tumbled out to lie on the ground nearby. But it was the other shape that commanded the duo's attention.

It was the boy. Slumped in the corner and obviously asleep, a ragged blanket hanging from his shoulders. Robin eyed the blanket with concern; even in his insulated suit he could feel the chill radiating from the ground. The deep hood had been pulled back, revealing his face for the first time. Neither of the duo were happy with that they saw.

The teen's clothes were clean but in need of repairs - ill-fitting and rough in places, verging on worn through in others. His blue jeans were too long for him, hanging down onto faded, peeling, red-and-white sneakers. The arm that poked from his sleeve was hard-muscled but bony. Not starved, but nowhere near healthy. The white shirt and ever-present red hoodie hung on his slim frame in a way that Batman did not like.

A mop of shaggy black hair fell across the boy's face and into his eyes. The eyes themselves were closed but deeply shadowed, hung with tired circles and webs of lines that spread outwards from the corners. His cheeks had the pinched, slightly hollowed look that came with a growth spurt, a lack of food, or both. He hugged himself slightly as he slept, curling loosely as though to hide from the world. Silver tracks ran down his face, reflected in the light from Robin's hand.

He was crying.

The sight of the thin figure in the corner set something aching deep in the Boy Wonder's chest. Glancing at his mentor Robin knew that, beneath the Batman's trademark impassivity, Bruce felt the same. He frowned as the desire for answers fought with the beginnings of shame – what place did they have, disturbing any small peace this person had found? He sighed internally. Regardless of how they might feel, a possible lead on 'the Phantom' was too important to overlook. Sharing a brief look and a nod the dynamic duo slowly and quietly advanced towards the boy.

Something had woken him. Danny wasn't sure what or why. It could be nothing, just the end of another nightmare. Or it could be everything. He hadn't bothered to open his eyes but by habit born of months of running he was alert, listening, feeling, wary of the possibility of a threat.

Silence…no, not quite. Breathing, heartbeats, quiet footsteps. He tensed minutely. Something, someone was in the locker with him. Two people. Definitely human… or at least mortal, partially. Ghosts didn't have heartbeats. Definitely two people. One smaller than the other by the sound. Too quiet, too purposeful to be lost, too professional for a common thief. Getting closer. Them?

Only one real way to find out.

Danny pushed himself upright, springing into a crude defensive stance, eyes scouring the storage unit, ready to run, fight, hide, to escape. The intruders had frozen as he moved, standing like statues in the gloom. The smaller one was holding what looked to be a souped-up glow-stick, gently illuminating the corner of the bunker. He seemed young; Danny's age, maybe a few years below. Messy dark hair, a black and white domino mask, red and black short-sleeved jumpsuit, black gloves, black and yellow half-cape... 'No way'. A glance to the older man confirmed what the half-ghost already knew. Black and grey combat suit, full-length dark cape, face hidden beneath a cowl adorned with small, horn-like ears. Danny swallowed, eyes widening. The Batman and Robin. Were here. In his lockup.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Questions

Robin blinked in surprise. They were supposed to be silent. He could barely hear Batman at his shoulder. They had trained that way. To be deathly quiet - or as close to it as humanly possible. Even with the sharpest ears a normal person shouldn't notice their approach until they were only a few feet out. But somehow this boy had sensed them, rolling upright and into a semi-defensive position when they were barely halfway towards him.

His immediate thought was that the kid was a fighter. It was there in the way he bladed his feet, the bend to his knees, the balance of his weight. In the angle of his neck, the slant to his hands, his stance – tight but loose-jointed, light footed, ready to move at speed. There was a martial flavour to it; probably self-taught, but with some training too. Robin didn't doubt that the teen could pack a punch. This was a seasoned opponent.

The boy's eyes told a similar story. They were blue. Light crystalline blue, cautious and hardened. Calculating, measuring. Suspicious. Far too old for the face that held them.

Robin watched the eyes sweep the locker, taking in corners and angles before settling onto him. They lingered, travelling from his face to his hands, feet, knees, elbows, shoulders… in that moment the Boy Wonder knew he'd been assessed as a threat. Recognition flickered in the blue and they widened, jumping from protégé to mentor. The teen swallowed visibly, rocking back onto his heels as hostility left the fighter's stance. Confusion and anxiety touched his face as he surveyed the intruders in his home.

A painfully expectant silence gathered in the hold.

"Damien Ferguson?" The Dark Knight's low baritone seemed to ground the boy. He gave a slow stiff nod, straightening as he relaxed out of his defensive crouch. Or rather, he appeared to relax. His feet and eyes betrayed him.

"You live here?" An obvious question given the duo's nights of observation. But it was somewhere to begin. Damien shook his head.

"No. I just crash here sometimes. When I need some space." Which could have been convincing if not for the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. A person didn't keep food, water and blankets in an otherwise empty locker if they had somewhere better to go. This was 'home', Batman concluded. The teen was a runaway. Had been for some time if his stance and the state of his clothes were anything to judge by. The Dark Knight frowned beneath the cowl. He had never been comfortable seeing youth on the streets, but now wasn't the time or place for sentimentality. The boy was a potential witness on a case.

Robin had noticed something else. There was something familiar about the way he spoke. The teen's accent was clearly American, but lacked the characteristic drawls or twangs that would point to a specific region. Almost generic – possibly from the Midwest or Great Lakes. The Boy Wonder hadn't been in much of a position to remember, but it sounded remarkably similar to 'the Phantom's'. Maybe they came from the same place. Either way it was clear that the kid hadn't been raised on the west coast.

"Where are you from?" He wondered. Damien seemed vaguely surprised at the question.

"Not really from anywhere. My family…" the teens' voice dropped slightly, "we travel a lot." He raised a hand to his face. Embarrassment flickered across his expression as he rubbed dried tear marks away, tucking fists quickly into his pockets.

The duo frowned at the evasive answer. The boy was obviously skittish about his personal information. If the information was real at all. Batman strongly suspected the identification used to rent the locker was false. After all, 'Damien Ferguson' had been practically non-existent until a few months earlier. The quality of the photographs was almost deliberately poor – just enough to avoid facial recognition. And then there was the teen himself. The boy was definitely not a legal adult, regardless of the date on the license. Even the name was doubtful. People react a certain way to hearing their names and 'Damien's' was ever so slightly off. It had been there in those eyes, fast enough that anyone else would have missed it. Relief. The boy believed his real identity was safe. Which presented an unusual dilemma. Everyone had secrets – the duo knew that better than most. And to some extent people had right to privacy. But this teen might be the key to finding 'the Phantom'. Privacy wasn't a luxury they could afford.

"Who are you? Really." The boy's eyes hardened momentarily, shoulders tightening. Then he shrugged.

"Damien Ferguson. You already know that." He wasn't a bad actor, Robin conceded. But it was all a bit too chalant to be honest.

"That's not your name," Batman interjected firmly, "or your age. You're not eighteen"

For a moment the boy looked as though he would deny it. He tensed, eyes roving from mentor to protégé, searching their faces. "Does it matter?"

"Is there a reason why you're hiding it?"

'Damien' hesitated, seemingly debating something. "It's easier this way," he muttered.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Easier to do what?"

The teen glanced at him, registering the thinly veiled accusation. "Nothing illegal, I swear. It's just safer to keep to myself." He cleared his throat, looking down.

'Safer…' Batman considered the statement, pieces slowly falling into place. 'Damien' was jumpy, afraid to let people close. He had money but he chose somewhere low-profile to stay. Somewhere a normal person wouldn't think to look. He wandered at night, easy to lose and difficult to follow. The Dark Knight's eyes returned to the small bottles lying beside the sports bag. Vitamin supplements. The boy was keeping himself in shape, a fighter…

"Who are you running from?"

'Damien' almost twitched at the question. Eyes widened faintly, alarm flickering in the blue. Robin thought he saw a faint flash of green, gone almost before he noticed it.

"I'm not running," he replied quickly. Too quickly.

Batman stepped through the lie, getting straight to the point. "You use a false name. You're staying somewhere no one would think to look. You don't trust others, watch all the corners of a room and are ready for a fight. Someone's chasing you. Who?"

The teen paused, fidgeting slightly under the weight of the duo's stares. He hesitated again, shutters closing behind the eyes as he appraised the Dark Knight. His jaw clenched, gaze flickering around the room. "Nobody good," he admitted, "but I'm guessing that's not why you're here. What did you want?"

Something told the duo that pressing for answers wouldn't make the boy any more willing to talk about 'the Phantom'. But there were a few too many things out of place for them to simply let it pass.

"I want to know how old you really are. Then we'll talk."

'Damien's' gaze sharpened. He evaluated the duo before relenting with a short, testy sigh. "Fine… Fifteen. Sixteen in a few months." Robin's brows crept upwards. He hadn't expected the boy to be so young. The detective wondered what 'Damien' had seen in his life. Then again, it was probably better that he didn't know.

Batman nodded. He reached into his cloak, withdrawing one of the government watermarked photographs.

"We're looking for someone." The Dark Knight stepped forward, ignoring the teen's sudden stiffness, as he held out the picture. "Phantom."

The reaction was instantaneous. The muscles in 'Damien's' neck tightened. His breath seemed to catch minutely, eyes flashing with a strange mix of fear and panic. For an instant Robin thought he caught the same flicker of green. Less than a second passed before teen was back in control, reaching out to take the paper as though nothing had happened. He frowned as he studied the image, apparently lost in thought.

"You know him." The boy's response hadn't gone unnoticed. 'Damien' nodded distractedly, gaze fixed on the paper.

"I know of him," the teen looked up, eyes guarded. "He's meant to be a myth." Robin thought he heard a faint note of warning behind the words. A caution. He pressed on.

"What do you know?"

"Same as most people I guess," 'Damien' shrugged, "The ghost-kid from… Illinois? Amityville or something. Protector-of-the-town and all that." Robin doubted that was all the teen knew. Why else would he have reacted to 'Phantom's' name?

"How do you know that?"

"One of my friends i-" he stumbled briefly, voice slightly tighter, "was, a goth. Loved dark stuff. I've heard a lot of ghost stories."

Batman's eyes narrowed. He wasn't telling them the truth. Parts of what he said were real – the Dark Knight didn't doubt that 'Damien' had a gothic friend – but it sounded ever so slightly false. The pausing. The way he said 'Amityville' instead of 'Amity Park'. The teen knew the answers, but was trying to seem like he didn't.

"'Phantom' is not a myth. And you know a lot more than just stories." Batman allowed the full weight of authority to ring in his voice. "Start talking."

'Damien' bristled at the change in tone, expression cooling. "No one believes in ghosts." Again Robin heard the faint warning. He thought about the teen's reaction to the name. The constant attempts to keep the undead mythical. The way 'Damien' only appeared when 'Phantom' was absent…

"Is 'Phantom' the one chasing you?" The Boy Wonder doubted it, but he wanted to test a theory.

"No." This time 'Damien's' response was genuine. The boy's lip twitched unwillingly, a faint gleam barely touching his eyes. Robin got the feeling that they were missing some internal joke. He bit back a grin of his own. This kid definitely knew something.

"Is Phantom running with you?" He stressed. The teen shot the young hero a quizzical glance, one that made it clear he thought the Boy Wonder insane. But it wasn't a denial. Something neither Bat nor Bird missed.

"He's your partner." Batman concluded. 'Damien' looked down, a slightly bitter expression twisting his face. Robin allowed a small victorious smile to break through the mask. 'Finally.'

"You work with him," pressed the elder hero. The teen continued to avoid their eyes, biting his lip before letting out a resigned sigh.

"Wouldn't exactly put it that way…" Still evasive. But at least they had a chance at some real answers. The young detective seized it.

"Last time you saw him?"

'Damien' gave the Boy Wonder a flat look. "I don't ever really see him." Robin struggled not to roll his eyes skyward. Invisibility was 'the Phantom's' gimmick, but he was not going to play that game.

"When?" Neither, apparently, was Batman. The teen withstood the weight of the glare for a full second before relenting.

"Sometime this year." The detective perked up at that. His team had encountered the shadow barely a week after New Year's. 'Damien' could have had contact since.

"Where?"

The teen shrugged, "Around. He travels a lot."

"Specifically." Robin could hear Batman's patience thinning. Honestly he was impressed that the boy had lasted this long. Most civilians would have caved.

"West Coast," came the short reply, "he might have moved since." Perhaps it was his imagination, but the Boy Wonder could have sworn 'Damien's' eyes flickered his way. 'Does he know about what happened with the team?'

"You met with him in Portland," he guessed. 'Damien' raised a brow in return. 'Yeah. He knows.'

"Where is he now?" The Dark Knight stepped in, regaining control. The teen's face hardened, iron entering the blue eyes. Tension that had eased away during the talk made its return. Sharing information was one thing. Handing over your partner was an entirely different story.

"What makes you think I know?"

"You're his partner," Robin reasoned, "You have to keep in contact."

'Damien' shook his head. "Not how it works." He eyed the duo suspiciously. "What do you want with Phantom anyway?"

"We need information."

"What kind of information?" There was something almost accusatory in the teen's question.

"We'd prefer to discuss that with 'Phantom' directly."

"Sorry," 'Damien's' voice was like ice, "Can't help you."

"Can't?" Robin couldn't entirely help the cool edge that bled into his own tone, "or won't?"

"Whichever," he responded testily, "I'm not giving you anything unless I know why."

"Why are you so determined to protect him?"

"There's a lot of people who'd rather some ghosts stayed buried," the teen gave a barely noticeable shudder, "and more who want live test subjects." Robin cringed internally at the last. Supposedly dead or not, 'Phantom' was still a person. The reluctance to talk suddenly made a lot more sense.

"The government's paranormal investigation unit has been shut down," the Dark Knight attempted to diffuse the tension. "The Anti-Ecto Acts are no longer enforced. 'Phantom's' status isn't a cause for prosecution. Not anymore."

"Maybe in theory," the boy hadn't relaxed, "but that doesn't mean they're not still there on paper. And the people didn't just vanish with the division. Ghost-hating isn't exclusive to the Idiots in White."

"If 'Phantom' is in danger, then you need to tell us. We can help," Robin offered. "The League has put people under protection before." 'Damien' shook his head, unconvinced.

"The League works under a charter," he pointed out. "You only get to be here so long as the Feds let you. I don't trust the government." The teen paused. " 'sides," he mumbled quietly, "they were the easy ones…"

' Easy?'

"What do you mean by that?" A vaguely guilty look flashed in 'Damien's' eyes.

"Nothing."

Robin frowned, glancing sideways at his mentor. If the teen was being honest, 'Phantom' was in a lot of danger. The ghost obviously had more enemies than he could cope with. The Boy Wonder appraised the person in front of him. He doubted such people would go easy on a human if they found out that 'Damien' had information. Even if he wasn't in contact, association would put the boy squarely in their sites. No wonder he was running.

"We may be able to stop the people hunting you," Batman opened negotiations, "But only if you give us information." Hope flickered briefly across teen's expression before dying. The light in the blue eyes dimmed.

"It's not your problem," he replied quietly. 'Damien' frowned, expression hardening as he changed tack. "Look, is Phantom under arrest or something? Do you think he's involved in a crime?"

Robin shook his head, hoping to reassure the teen. The other boy's jaw tightened.

"Then I don't have to tell you anything." His tone was one of absolute finality. The Boy Wonder mentally kicked himself. This could not be happening.

"We just want to talk." He allowed his voice to soften slightly, hoping to bring the teen back on side. 'Damien's' eyes narrowed.

"Heard that one before. And no. So long as there's no broken law I'm not obliged to tell you." Robin groaned internally. They couldn't lose this now. Not when they were so close. He counted as he exhaled, voice determinedly calm.

"We want to help. But you need to help us first."

'Damien' shook his head firmly. "We don't want or need help. The best thing you – or anyone – can do is leave us alone."

Batman took charge. "That's not going to happen. We need the information. And we'd prefer that you co-operate."

"And if I don't?"

"You've committed forgery. And it's technically illegal to sleep here."

The teen glared at him, fury and desperation mingling in the gaze. "You'll put me into the system? Give me to the people who want to rip us apart 'molecule by molecule'? They want me gone. Permanently." The boy made a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl, running a hand through his hair. His voice dropped to nearly a whisper, "A year... I've spent almost a year keeping away from these guys and you want to dump me in their lap."

The revelation gave them pause. A year was a long time when you were fifteen. A very young age to be in such serious trouble. Not that youth automatically made you innocent. Robin and his team had definitely managed worse. But false license aside, 'Damien' wasn't a criminal. If anything he was a victim. And 'Phantom' had saved them. The idea of an arrest didn't sit well.

"League custody or League protection," it was a generous offer, especially from the Bat, "Your choice. But only one keeps you free."

"Or you can talk now," the Boy Wonder added, "and we'll let you go, no questions asked."

The teen scowled in return. The young detective could sense him coming to a decision, and he knew it wasn't one they would like.

"Look," Robin entreated, "we're not here to fight. Phantom got me and my team out of trouble and I'd kinda like to return the favour. His information could help us keep other people safe. And we can help you. But only if you let us."

'Damien' met his gaze, unmoved. Tension crystallised in the room, showing its teeth as resolve turned the blue eyes to stone. The boy's jaw was firm with determination. In other circumstances it would have been impressive. But right now… a vague sickness gathered in the Boy Wonder's stomach. He could feel the doors closing, keys turning in the locks. They'd lost, he realised. The teen wasn't going to talk, not willingly. It was out of their control and only going to get worse.

Robin clenched his hands, waiting for the inevitable 'no'.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Interference

Danny opened his mouth to answer the heroes. Maybe they did 'just want to help' but it wasn't a risk worth taking. Whatever the consequences of refusal, it was still better than what would happen if they caught him. At least the dynamic duo had morals. There were lines that no hero would cross.

A cold, heavy weight settled against his chest. He knew what he had to do. The heroes stood ready, silent and utterly still, costumes blending into the shadows as they waited for his reply. Unmoving – not even the billowing capes stirred. Almost as if they were…

He reached up to his neck, hand encountering the smooth metal of a familiar medallion.

"Hello Daniel."

"I thought you weren't meant to interfere?"

The purple spectre nodded, red eyes kind. "Correct. I'm not. But I would give some advice."

The halfa gave the spirit a tired look, cool edge not entirely leaving his voice. "No games this time Clockwork. I can't handle that right now."

The ghost gestured towards the duo. "This is a valuable opportunity."

Danny narrowed his eyes. He had a sneaking suspicion where this was going. Not that he didn't trust the time master's judgment, but after everything that had happened…

The spirit watched him intently. "The decision you make tonight could have far-reaching consequences. Do not squander it rashly."

The young ghost shook his head. Any advice was good advice compared to what he'd managed in the last few months. But riddles had to come at the worst possible moments.

"You cannot help but be human." The statement was probably meant to be kind.

"Half human," Danny shot back, unintentionally petulant. After all the problems his 'status' had caused he wasn't going to see it glossed over that easily.

"And that is the half that matters," came the even reply. "Far more than ghosts, humans are social creatures. They need companionship, friends. They are meant to trust." The spectre gave him a pointed look, "You've already seen what isolation does to your kind."

"No." The halfling fought off the urge to growl. Plasmius was a neurotic psychopath, having friends wouldn't have changed that. The situation was entirely different. Danny wasn't running for his life because he felt like it. He was in danger. Any person who came near him was in danger. He couldn't afford the chance. Not after what had happened to… no. He wasn't going to go there.

A slight frown touched the time master's expression. "You put on a brave face, but you are no Atlas. You can't carry the world on your own Daniel. Nor are you expected to."

"I'm fine."

"The last three months would suggest otherwise."

Danny flinched slightly. The statement hit a little too close for comfort. Try though he might the halfa could feel the cracks spreading. He was just so tired of it all. Tired of lonely nights. Tired of silence. Tired of being hungry and cold and scared all the time. Part of him desperately wanted somebody to step in, to take the load. But that wasn't how it worked. This was his mess. He couldn't just shove it off onto someone else because he wasn't up to the challenge.

"It's my problem. I'll deal with it."

"Indeed you will. But you don't need to do so alone. Many hands make light work," the spirit glanced at the frozen heroes, "and they have offered. You would not be forcing them."

The half-ghost was already shaking his head.

"Like it or not, you are part of a larger world. Running can only prolong the inevitable."

"What do you want me to do?" Danny asked dejectedly. His vision flickered for a moment, adrenaline fading fast. He swayed, too tired to be bothered hiding it.

"Your choice must be your own. But consider a little faith. Trust can be a valuable thing. And you are certainly not the only one who would benefit from a friend."

Trust. The halfling ran a hand through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of all the things to ask for. Secrets were a fundamental part of life; they had been ever since the portal opened. Get up, go to school, do your homework, patrol the town, keep the secret. Even when everything had fallen apart and they'd started running, the secret had remained. One of life's constants. He'd never told anyone. 'Not even Mom and Dad.' To let go of it now…

"You're sure about this?"

The ghost nodded calmly. "I cannot blame you for being cautious. Not after everything you've seen. But good still exists in the world. Allow yourself to trust - a second chance, as it were."

Danny chewed on his lower lip, rubbing the back of his neck in attempt to still his trembling hands. Could he? After all this time, was it worth trusting someone? He couldn't deny that he wanted to. But nine months of experience made a convincing case for the negative. And they were members of the Justice League. Whether that made it worse or better he didn't know. Danny sighed. It was time to face facts. He was tired of running, and it wasn't getting him anywhere anyway. He examined the duo carefully, studying the frozen faces. They said they wanted to help. Could that be true? He still wasn't sure. Then again, he didn't have to throw down all his cards right away. He could take it slowly, make absolutely certain... Maybe it would be worth it. He'd always believed in the benefit of the doubt. Everybody needed a second chance.

'Everybody…' A question throbbed through his heart. No. He knew better than to ask. No matter what the answer was the outcome wouldn't change. He wasn't ready to accept that, not yet.

"You have a question." It was pointless really, trying to hide things from someone who knew everything. Danny's eyes prickled. Memories hung in the air.

Laughter. Loyalty. Homework done late at night, the smell of tofu and greasy takeout. Analysis from behind a thick textbook.

"If everyone deserves a second chance," he whispered, "why didn't they get theirs?"

Regret flickered in the ancient eyes. "The universe must unfold as it should… much though we wish it otherwise." The spirit sighed, remorse touching the usually impassive tone, "It was not my place to act."

Reluctant though he was, the halfa understood. Clockwork was powerful but even a master of time was bound by rules. No matter how much he might want to, he couldn't intervene. Not unless the world was in danger. The smallest change could send the future in an entirely different direction – the ecto-acne incident had showed Danny that firsthand.

All was as it should be. But that didn't mean he could like it.

The ghost had returned to watching the heroes. Danny took the opportunity to wipe his face, banishing a few rebellious tears. He nodded, letting the cool mask settle back into place, hoping the simple gesture conveyed everything he wanted to say. The purple spectre turned to face his charge, favouring the boy with a rare smile.

"Now I believe your friends are waiting for an answer."

A hand touched Danny's shoulder before the medallion was lifted from his neck.

"Okay."

Robin struggled not to gape. He was so convinced that they'd be turned down. The Boy Wonder had been prepared for hours of conflict to reach even the smallest glimpse of an answer. Suddenly all the fight seemed to have left the older boy. He was still wary, eyes still hard, but the seasoned warrior had vanished, replaced by someone tired. Maybe a little lonely. Maybe even a little scared. 'Damien' blinked, shifting slightly as he watched the duo. The difference was disarming – Robin could believe this person was only fifteen. But what had made him change his mind?

"You'll talk?" Batman recovered quickly, taking command of the situation.

The teen hesitated. He swallowed visibly, eyeing the heroes with unease. "Not tonight. I will, I promise… but not tonight. I have some… things to sort out first. I'll be here for a couple more days at least."

The Dark Knight's eyes narrowed. The boy seemed sincere, but after the way he had been…

"How do we know you'll stay?"

'Damien' ducked his head slightly, shamefaced. He peeked at the vigilante from beneath heavy lids. "I guess you don't," he admitted, "but I don't break promises."

The Boy Wonder raised an eyebrow, torn between the urge to smile and the desire to frown. Less than a minute ago they had been facing someone hardened, jaded and defiant. The person in front of them now seemed earnest, almost meek. 'Talk about one-eighties'. Not that Robin was going to complain. Given how things had been going this was probably the best possible outcome. But a normal person didn't – couldn't – change so completely in such a short time. One more thing to ask about if they got the chance. And speaking of asking…

"Will you tell us your real name?"

He got the sense that the teen was genuinely considering it. 'Damien's' mouth pulled into a contemplative frown.

"Maybe later." Well at least it wasn't an outright refusal.

Further questioning was halted by a near-imperceptible vibration from the timepiece in Robin's glove. The Boy Wonder made a tiny gesture by his side, receiving the smallest of nods from his mentor. Morning was on the way. The night would soon be over, and they had appearances to maintain. Which meant they had to make a choice. They could take the boy at his word or bring him with them. It was difficult. There was no guarantee that the teen wouldn't disappear if they left him alone. On the other hand, forcing him into custody could destroy any chance of cooperation. In the end it was Batman who decided.

"Tomorrow night. Same place. Same time." It wasn't a request.

"I'll be here."

The Dark Knight examined the boy carefully, studying his body language. Relieved, but truthful – he meant what he said. Batman turned over a final question in his mind. He already suspected the answer, but for the sake of professionalism he needed to ask.

"Do your parents know where you are?"

The teen watched him for what felt like the longest time. Cracks spread through the tense blue, pain fluttering on broken wings as 'Damien' looked away. Bruce paused, struck for the first time by how much the boy resembled his young ward. The teen slowly shook his head, avoiding the eyes of the duo. The silence told them all they needed to know.

"Tomorrow," Batman reaffirmed, unable to entirely help the faint softening of his tone.

"I know. I promised."

Robin sent the teen a sympathetic look before following his mentor out of the locker.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Social Commentary

" A 'Ghost Zone'?"

" Basically. It's like the flipside to our world – the human world. They live there."

" Another earth?"

" No. It's not like our side at all. It's chaotic. Has its own laws… and rules. Everything's sort of… fluid. Things change, move around a lot. It's easy to get lost. Dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."

" You've been there?"

"… Once or twice. Not a great place for humans."

" So there are ways to pass between them?"

" Not really. There are… natural portals, but there's no way of telling where the next one will open. Or when. So you can't really use them for travel."

" But that's not the only way."

"… Yeah. There are others, but they're either really complicated or dangerous or – well, there are a couple of ghosts who can open one, but getting them to work with you…"

" Is that how you started working with 'Phantom'?"

" I… Sort of. It's complicated."

" Then explain."

" I… I can't. At least, not yet."

So it had been for the past few nights.

If there was one thing Robin had learned early on it was that every answer usually came with a new question. On this case it was more like every answer came with three.

He looked up briefly, gaze wandering over the smooth stone walls. He was back at the mountain. Lying upside-down over a couch in the rec' room to be precise. Batman's orders – apparently he needed to take a day off. The fact that the Dark Knight was concerned about his social life would usually raise a few warning flags, but in this case the Boy Wonder was more than happy to ignore them. He flicked his fingers, staring at the screen on his wrist as he sorted through the information. It was definitely one of the stranger investigations he had taken on. He wasn't expecting to not be surprised by it anytime soon.

The timestamp on one of the older files caught his attention. Two days. It had been two days since their first encounter with 'Damien' at unit 4. Two days since the tracker went almost permanently offline. Two days since they had exacted a promise that the teen would be there for questioning. Not that their new lead was getting them very far on the main case. 'Phantom' – and by extension 'Damien' himself – remained largely a mystery. But the meetings were proving profitable in other ways. While talk of a certain ghost was off the table for the time being, ghosts in general were not. And after the unmitigated disaster that had been the 'Spectra' incident Robin was grateful for any information that wasn't third-hand.

Though in some cases ignorance might have been bliss. The idea that the Amity 'ghosts' were genuinely the spirits of the deceased wasn't exactly one he was comfortable with. In their line of work it was easier for the dead to be dead. For it to be over, the end. That there could be something more… it raised several personal, philosophical questions that Robin honestly wasn't prepared to deal with just yet. 'Okay, moving on.' Apparently there were categories of spirit. Not all ghosts had originally been alive and humans – or mortals of any description – only came back from beyond in rare circumstances. Something about emotion and obsession, though 'Damien' refused to go into detail. Undeath wasn't absolute. Which was probably a good thing. With an estimated 6.8 billion on Earth alone the afterlife would get very crowded if everyone passed over.

As for the rest of the myths... it quickly became apparent that, while correct on the 'undead' factor, the other details left a lot to be desired. Lucky charms, salt, silver and iron, fire, burial rites... a ghost would be amused at best. Automatically 'lost', 'vengeful' or purely 'evil'? Also a no. Short-tempered at times, and perhaps prone to overreaction, but there was a spectrum; spirits could be anything from benevolent to malevolent, from selfish to altruistic. Naturally the 'ghost hunters' claimed otherwise; but then again, a shoot-first-ask-questions-later approach hardly ever brought out the best in anyone. And having met 'Phantom' – however briefly – Robin was inclined to take 'Damien's' side. Even if the spirit was rumoured to have had his own moments of… questionable behaviour, the idea of a 'good' ghost was comforting. Given how powerful their species was, it was reassuring to know that there were at least a few who wouldn't attack on sight.

'Strength, flight, energy blasts, density shifting...' the Boy Wonder was grateful that ghosts chose to stay on their own side. A land of the dead – definitely not on his vacation list. The presence of other dimensional planes wasn't a new concept, but it did explain how the spirits had managed to exist for so long without major contact. And given that the portals allowing passage between the two worlds were liable to randomly strand a prospective traveller along the space-time continuum it was easy to see why most ghosts avoided the temptation to holiday in the land of the living. Amity Park was apparently an exception – a supposedly stable gateway used to give free access to both sides. Robin would be lying to say that he wasn't relieved. Close encounters of the dead kind might be less than turbing, but at least the natural rifts couldn't support the kind of trans-dimensional turf wars that had reportedly plagued the town.

He tapped the screen, opening another file. Putting facts to the fiction was good but information on their major target might as well have been six feet under. Stories of 'Phantom' numbered into the hundreds, and while the details were interesting they didn't reveal much of use in tracking the ghost down. 'Damien' was their best chance on all fronts. Unfortunately, the live teen was almost more difficult to investigate than the dead one. 'Why can't I find this guy?' 'Phantom' had reportedly worked with humans from time to time but there was no solid evidence for a partner. Let alone one who knew ghosts as intimately as their source did.

More typical research methods were also throwing blanks. There'd been no significant matches in the missing persons reports for Amity Park or Illinois State. He'd even taken it as far as nation-wide, but still no result. With so many unknowns and variables it was difficult to find new places to start. Raw observation and speculation could only go so far – he needed details. A real name, a date of birth, even a hometown... somehow the teen had contrived to avoid almost all personal information in the nights of questioning. Not that they'd pressed too hard. Yet. Antagonising their only major lead would be the opposite of helpful – especially when the target could quite literally disappear off the face of the earth. Though he might need to re-check the definition of 'cooperation'. If the ghosts weren't enough of a mystery 'Damien' definitely was.

Needless to say both members of the Gotham duo knew how to profile a target. It was a necessity in their line of work. But there was a difference between analysing a criminal and a civilian. Villains had means, motives – they had endgames. As for 'Damien's' endgame... well, he wasn't sure. Everything contradicted. On one hand there was the unyielding determination they'd seen on the first night. Then the apparent change of heart, the shift to something more earnest, more compliant. The teen was working with them. Just not in the way they expected. Information was doled out slowly, the answers honest and precise… while at the same time telling them as little as possible. The boy seemed to consciously pull himself back – as though he had intended to say more, but reconsidered at the last minute. They were very carefully talking around the topic of 'Phantom', moving along the edges without ever truly breaching it. The kid could dodge questions with the best of them. No denying that he was cautious. Watching, waiting. Something was expected of them, Robin felt certain of that. There was a missing piece, final card that needed to be brought to the table before the truth could come forward. But what? If only he knew-

"Dude!" The exclamation jolted the Boy Wonder out of his thoughts. A flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye. Robin flinched, twisting and swiping to grab the soft, squashy something that came flying at his face. A couch cushion. He pulled it to his chest, narrowing his eyes at the offending individual. Kid Flash glared right back.

"Were you even listening?!" The speedster demanded. He shrugged, hiding his embarrassment with an impish smile. In truth he couldn't remember when Wally started talking. The redhead rolled his eyes, making a gesture of vast exasperation.

"Sheesh Rob', what is with you today? I know that Bats is your mentor and all but you've been doing the brooding thing for hours. Lighten up!"

"Someone's not feeling the aster."

Robin flicked his wrist, launching the pillow at Conner. "Hey!" the detective protested, hearing it connect with a satisfying 'puff', "That's my thing!"

"Well sorry," Artemis strolled in, hair damp from the showers, "but someone had to do your thing seeing as how you weren't." She dropped onto the sofa next to the speedster.

"Um, Robin?" the tentative question came from the kitchen. M'gann's red hair appeared behind the bench for a moment before she ducked back down. "Don't take this the wrong way but you haven't really been… yourself lately. Is everything alright?" The scent of vanilla filled the room as a baking tray clinked on the countertop. Wally almost cricked his neck as his head whipped towards the smell, earning a reproving elbow from the blonde.

He ran a hand down his face, reluctantly switching off the screen. "Sorry guys. I'm working on a case and it's driving me nuts."

"Really? We could not tell." Robin chuckled sheepishly at the Atlantean's wry comment. Had he honestly been that bad?

"Guys?" Another voice joined the conversation as Zatanna entered from the dorms, "I thought I heard voices. Is something going on?"

"The Boy Wonder's finally decided to join us," Artemis smirked, rolling her eyes at the team's youngest member.

She smiled. "Welcome back."

Robin smiled at the sorceress, feeling more than a little guilty. He hadn't been all that... there since the Portland mission. And after what had happened at New Year he probably should put in a bit more effort. Though whether or not they could actually be considered together... He stretched, ignoring the archer's knowing look as he raised his arms over his head, allowing his hands to rest on the floor.

"Okay, okay. I get it. You win. What's up?"

"The roof?" Wally was still a little sour. The assembled heroes groaned. Superboy threw the cushion at him.

"So," Artemis leaned forward curiously, "what's this case you're on anyway? Mind telling us?"

The Boy Wonder frowned, weighing his options. Batman had some fairly explicit rules about bringing the team onto private missions. But in truth, this wasn't really the Dark Knight's case. He had opened the investigation, had done most of the research… he had brought his mentor on board. And, like it or not, the team was half-involved already. Wally, Kaldur and Artemis had all seen 'the Phantom' with their own eyes. Though, given the redhead's chronic scepticism, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to bring up the more 'ghostly' elements of the story.

"We're… having some trouble with an informant."

"So?" Kid Flash seemed amused by the idea, "Throw in a couple of glares and hang him off a roof as usual. Problem solved."

Robin snorted, rolling his eyes. Wally was never going to let him live that down. "He's a civilian KF. Besides..." he trailed off with a frustrated sigh. The case felt impossible at times, even for him.

"A civilian?" M'gann joined her friends in the lounge, bringing a fresh batch of cookies with her. "That's..."

"...Weird," Artemis finished, snagging a sweet as the plate passed by. She held it teasingly out of the speedster's reach. "So, what's going on?"

Robin adjusted his glasses, stalling for time. It was difficult enough to explain the teen for himself, and that was after spending two nights in a locker with the kid. Describing the situation to someone else – even Bats might find it a challenge. The detective mentally catalogued the information, shifting on the chair until he was seated sideways.

"Batman and I are trying to track someone down. We've found a guy who might have a lead – a connection – to the person we're after but…"

"He doesn't want to talk to you?" Zatanna guessed. He shook his head.

"See, that's the thing. I think he wants to but he just won't for some reason. He's already agreed to help."

"I'm not getting it." The Boy Wonder couldn't help but privately share the young clone's sentiment.

"Could be a diversion," offered the archer. "You know, stall you long enough to tip the other guy off?"

"I thought about that, but I don't think so..."

"Oh?" the Martian tilted her head, "Why not?"

"We've been talking to him for days and the other guy's great at disappearing acts." That was putting it mildly. He was still trying to figure out how a ghost could disable the tracer. "If he was going to skip town he would have done it by now. And like I said, it feels like he wants to talk – something's just getting in the way."

"Perhaps he fears retribution?" Kaldur suggested, "Traitors are not well-accepted in most circles." It was a reasonable conclusion. But 'Damien' clearly saw 'Phantom' as a comrade, a friend rather than a master.

"That's not it either. He's protecting the other guy, not afraid of him."

"Protecting?" It was Wally's turn to be confused. "From what? Wait… just how bad is the other guy?"

"He's not."

"Okay dude, you've lost me."

"He's not a criminal." The detective attempted to explain, "He's... I don't know, on our side I guess. But he's in hiding."

"And you're after him because...?" The redhead's eyebrow rose to meet his fringe.

"Information. He knows something important."

"But then," M'gann's face pulled into a concerned frown, "why's your... informant protecting him? I'm mean, if I was in trouble the League would be the first people I'd go to. They're the good guys. We're the good guys." Robin let out a tired sigh, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I know. It's like he's waiting for something but I don't know what. We've offered protection, information – I'm drawing blanks here."

Zatanna rubbed at her neck, "Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes on this?" The Boy Wonder reluctantly shook his head. Another perspective would definitely be nice, but he doubted 'Damien' would tolerate more new faces.

"Thanks for the offer, but no. Bats and I can barely get near him as is. He'd bolt if we brought in someone else."

"We could always help from here," Miss Martian gently pointed out, "Can you tell us about him?" She hesitated, "If that's okay?"

"It's complicated..." he paused, trying to sum up the situation in a way that made sense, "It's like he's taking note of everything we say... evaluating all of our questions, all our answers. Half the time we'll ask something and get a question back instead. Once he knows why we want the information and what we're doing with it he's usually fine, but he's definitely avoiding something. He keeps editing, telling half-truths. Knows a whole lot more than he's letting on. Not just about his partner – whatever it is, it's big. He tries to hide it but I see flashes sometimes, or it's like we're missing some inside joke." Robin made a frustrated gesture, "I don't know... it feels like he's playing a game, leaving hints. He wants something from us, needs us to bring whatever it is before he can talk, but he never asks for anything. I can't figure out what else we have to bargain with."

"Sounds like the Riddler's got competition," Wally noted, words somewhat muffled by a mouthful of shortbread. Artemis rolled her eyes again, 'reminding' the speedster of his manners as she rescued the plate from his grasp.

"Are you sure you're not overthinking this?" M'gann toyed with her hair as she thought, "I mean, it doesn't really sound like he's trying to negotiate. Maybe he's just trying to get a feel for you – find out if he can work with you?"

Kaldur nodded his agreement, "He may simply be assessing whether you are people his friend would be willing to accept."

"Or maybe..." Zatanna frowned contemplatively, "is your informant part of a group? Or is he doing this solo?"

"Solo. Definitely solo. He's a bit of a loner."

Kid Flash snorted, "You're playing games with a lonely old guy now?"

Robin coughed back a laugh at the thought, "He's actually pretty young for this gig." The realisation sobered him. Fifteen, soon to be sixteen... He looked over the familiar faces of his friends. 'Damien' was same age as they were. It was so easy to forget sometimes.

"Oh, so Captain Marvel then?" The speedster was still joking.

"Not that young KF. Anyway, what are you thinking Zee?"

"I'm not sure but... what if he wants something you can't bargain for? I mean, if he's used to doing things on his own... and whatever this information – or this secret – is, if his friend is in hiding over it then it must be big. Maybe he's trying to work out if you can be trusted. People might have tried to play him for it before."

"So... just give him time? That's it?"

"It would make sense," the Atlantean mused, "If the secret is as important as it seems, both could stand to lose much if their trust was misplaced. Perhaps as he adjusts to you – comes to know you – he will confide more."

The detective toyed with his watch, considering. It would fit with the teen's behaviour. They definitely seemed be working up to the bigger topics.

"But why wouldn't he trust you in the first place?" M'gann seemed troubled, "You're heroes."

"He may have learned not to rely on what others say," Aqualad reasoned. "After all, there are many who would also consider Lex Luthor a 'hero'." The explanation was met with an irate snort from the Kryptonian.

"Apologies friend."

"It's fine..." Conner huffed, glowering slightly at the mention of his 'other father'.

Robin frowned, only half-listening. Years on stakeout had proven the value of patience, but the idea of doing nothing grated at him. Staying still in order to move forward... he definitely preferred a more proactive strategy. Especially when their quarry was also pursued by other, less friendly, parties. He and Batman might have been the first to find the ghost's partner, but there was no guarantee that 'Damien' would remain undetected for however many nights they needed to get the full story.

"Something wrong?" Zatanna noticed his preoccupation.

"Time mightn't be on our side here..."

"I'm sure you'll work something out. After all," the sorceress' smiled turned teasing, "it's what you do."

The Boy Wonder felt his mouth pull into a familiar cheeky grin – he'd heard that before. "I'll try to stay whelmed." She winked, earning a small laugh. Wally gave the detective a conspiratorial look, waggling his eyebrows slyly. Ironic seeing that the speedster been trying and failing to catch the eye of a certain pretty blonde archer all day. And he thought things had been bad before New Year's.

"Hey," speak of the devil. Artemis leaned around her would-be boyfriend, expression serious, "did you ever find anything on our mystery guy?"

"Which one?" Robin lowered his voice, discomfort prickling across the back of his neck. With the mission he was on he could only think of one person. 'Please let her be talking about someone else.'

"You know. From Portland." The archer's voice dropped to match his. He shifted, suddenly uneasy. From the corner of his eye he saw Kaldur sit up, leaning discretely towards them.

"Wait, Portland? What guy? What even happened there?" At least Wally kept the questions quiet. And was that a touch of jealousy in his tone? Robin's lip twitched but the small amusement did nothing to alleviate the growing awkwardness of the situation. They had come to a mutual consensus to avoid talk of that particular mission. There were too many personal issues, too many hidden demons for anyone to feel comfortable opening up about it. Although it was a bit too much to ask for the speedster to ignore a conversation he was sitting right in the middle of.

Artemis explained in a whisper, "There was a new super. A kid – white hair, green eyes, bunch of powers. Helped us out, then ditched as soon as we were done. Tell anyone and we'll deny it." She smirked slightly, "Too bad you weren't there Baywatch, you could have helped catch him." Robin swore silently as recognition dawned on Kid Flash's face. Of course Wally was going to remember. It had been their first proper mission together – he had bugged him about it for weeks afterwards. The speedster's head whipped towards him.

"That sounds like… dude, is that the same guy? The one from C-"

"Maybe," He cut his friend off before he could continue. The others were starting to give them curious looks. If Superboy heard the word 'Cadmus' there would be no stopping the team from getting involved. He couldn't afford that. Much as he appreciated their advice, he couldn't compromise the investigation. Not when they had so little control over it to begin with. He took a deep breath, turning back to the archer and speedster.

"I've done some digging," they had to lean forward to catch the quick, quiet answer, "but there wasn't much to find. It's all rumours - the guy basically doesn't exist. Bats and I are still looking but there's not a lot to tell. You already know most of it from last time. I'll keep you posted, but I've gotta focus on this other case right now okay?" Robin swallowed a small pang of guilt at the deception. It was necessary, he reminded himself. He'd find a way to make it up to Wally later.

Fortunately a Martian intervened before any more questions could be asked. "What are you three up to? Is something wrong?"

"Nah, we're good Miss M," He smiled a huge, devilish smile at his best friend, "Just planning the engagement party." Kid Flash spluttered. Artemis choked. Both turned scarlet, the speedster nearly falling off the sofa as they scrabbled apart. The Boy Wonder cackled, receiving a matched set of furious glares. He'd have to watch his back for the next few days. But the look on Wally's face... it was totally worth it.

"So, I was thinking," M'gann fought down a fit of giggles at her friends' predicament, "the Happy Harbour Cinema is having a marathon special this weekend. Does anyone want to come? School isn't too busy yet and it sounds like they've got some good ones on."

"Sounds nice," agreed Zatanna, "it's been a while since we've had some normal fun." She laughed, "I've actually kind of missed it. What are they showing?"

The green-skinned girl practically beamed at the sorceress. "I'll get the program." She darted out of the room, returning with a flyer. The others quickly picked out their favourites, conversation rapidly dissolving into comparisons of plots, actors and bickering over different remakes. Artemis began to summarise a major series for Conner and Kaldur, cheeks still slightly pink. Robin bit back a snicker.

The detective slouched comfortably into the chair as his friends conferred. He absently studied the metal whorls on the ceiling, mind drifting back to the case. To their earlier discussion. Caution, adjustment... was the answer really that simple? He'd need more time to know for sure. But it did fit. 'Someone who wants to trust... but isn't sure that it's safe to.' It would explain the contrary behaviour. In fact, it was probably one of the better theories. He yawned, sliding fingers deftly beneath the glasses to rub at his eyes. The question was, how to act on it? Trust was a hard market to barter in. As Zatanna had said, it wasn't exactly something they could negotiate. 'Actually...' there might be a way. But the cost of doing so...

He shook his head, re-joining the conversation. They had decided to put it to a vote. He glanced quickly down at the options on the poster, raising a hand with the others as M'gann called out the titles. Chances were it was never going to happen. Knowing their luck a mission would come up as soon as they planned something. But it was still fun to go through the motions.

All in all it had been a productive afternoon. A few laughs, a soon-to-be movie night and a possible new lead. Robin grinned.

Bruce had been right – a day off was exactly what he needed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Trade Secrets

Black-clad feet tapped lightly against the floor. Anxiety found a small fingerhold in his stomach. As he prowled the now-familiar dark corridors, Robin was struck by a strong sense of déjà vu. It was just like the first night.

Except that it wasn't. For one thing Batman wasn't here. In fact, the Dark Knight didn't even know he was making the trip. Which was a very deliberate decision on his part. The Boy Wonder didn't doubt his mentor would have had a few choice words to describe his current course of action.

Theories, plans and arguments swirled through his mind. Positives. Negatives. The truth was they couldn't allow things to continue as they were. With the recon, the interrogation – not even counting long days of research – the investigation was well into its second week. Longer than they could afford to spend on a lead that was shaping up to be as dead as all the others. The League, the Team, Gotham City, the Light, the sixteen hours… Robin hated to admit it but 'Phantom' just wasn't that high of a priority. They couldn't put their other duties on indefinite hold for the sake of two teens. Especially with progress all but ground to a halt. Logic told them to cut their losses and leave; to find a new approach before they lost any more time. But the young detective couldn't bring himself to do it. And, going from the fact that he hadn't brought it up yet, the Dark Knight wasn't too keen on the idea either. They'd become too involved to just abandon the ghost and his partner. Especially when-

Metal rattled at the end of the hall.

Robin whirled around, a warning growl working its way up his throat, drawing a batarang as he spun to confront– a rather cold, disgruntled pigeon pecking at the window bars. The detective tucked the weapon quickly back into his belt, growl giving way to a soft, nervous chuckle. The Dark Knight's protégé jumping at shadows, so not astrous. Wally would be on the floor if he'd seen it. He shook himself firmly, readjusting his cape before continuing past the numbers. He shouldn't have over-reacted like that. Three days ago he wouldn't have.

And therein lay the second problem. People on the run weren't meant to stay in one place. There was only so long 'Damien' could linger before it became dangerous and Robin knew that, at some point in the last few days, the threshold had been crossed. Darkness lurked on the horizon, gaining ground with each night. It was unspoken, well-hidden, but they could all feel it. Clocks were running down on both sides, swinging pendulums undercutting the meetings. Their game of 'Twenty Questions' was taking too long.

Which was exactly why he was here. His new theory could be the break they were looking for.

It didn't make him any less nervous about it though.

Robin crouched beside the door, tugging the handle experimentally. 'Damien' might have kept the bunker unlocked for their meeting but he didn't expected it to stay that way after 'visiting hours'. The detective slipped the picks from his glove, quickly tripping the pins. He paused, thumbing over the logo pressed into the metal. 'These doors aren't designed to lock from the inside.' The Boy Wonder briefly examined the setting. It wasn't exactly high security. And the teen ran with ghosts. Who knew what tricks he'd picked up?

He hooked gloved fingers under the metal ridge, sliding into the enclosed darkness. Light swelled across the concrete as he twisted on the lamp, navigating his way towards the back corner. Robin gauged the distance carefully; stopping at what he hoped was edge of the teen's apparently sensitive hearing.

Again he was struck by the similarity to the first night. 'Damien' was asleep, a bundle of blankets and hoodie curled into the junction of walls and floor. But tonight's scene lacked the tiny semblance of peace that had softened their first encounter. Faded cloth rippled from the small stirrings of the figure beneath it. Restless, even in dreams. Robin paused, half-tempted to turn around. To leave well enough alone. They'd already kept the teen up for more than half the night and, from what he saw, the kid needed every hour he could spare. Though if the Boy Wonder was honest there was another reason for his hesitancy. He was stalling, delaying the moment when he'd have to put his plan into action. The possible consequences... but it was for a good cause. Hopefully. The young hero watched the figure a few seconds longer before gently clearing his throat.

A viper prodded with a burning branch. Cloth was flung aside as 'Damien' sprang upright, rising onto the balls of his feet faster than the detective would have thought possible. Metal gleamed in the teen's hand, hostility radiating from every pore. Robin took an unwitting step back, instincts hissing a warning. 'Dangerous' breathed a small voice in his mind. He slowly raised his hands, acutely aware of how close he was to being attacked. Something in the blue-green eyes promised a painful surprise for anyone foolish enough to test the individual in front of him. The young hero kept his stance as non-threatening as possible, meeting the fierce gaze with an air of forced calm.

Several heartbeats passed.

"Robin?" Confusion was clear despite the hardness of the teen's voice. The Boy Wonder gave a slow nod, wary of provoking aggression. It was with no small relief that he watched 'Damien' relax out of the fighter's crouch, blade vanishing up his sleeve. Blue eyes squinted against the light from the lamp, blinking tiredly through the gloom. "What...?" The boy grimaced, shaking off the last traces of sleep as he tried again. "Why are you here?" His gaze wandered the locker, searching for an absent second figure, "Where's...?"

"He's not here. It's just me."

"Okay?" The word was drawn out with slow incredulity. "Why?"

Rather than answer, Robin chose to cast an analytical eye over the teen. The shadows under 'Damien's' eyes were starting to looked inked on. He gestured to the floor. "Can I...?"

The teen's brow furrowed before he realised what was being asked. "Sure?" The detective sank fluidly to the ground, crossing his legs beneath him. 'Damien' watched for a moment before moving to sit cautiously on the other side of the light. Cold seeped through the Boy Wonder's protective layers, sending frosted fingers up his spine. He concealed a shiver, savouring a newfound appreciation for the frigid temperature of the locker. 'Damien' seemed unaffected by the icy conditions, though Robin doubted the thin jeans and jacket offered much insulation. He would have to be completely numb by now. That or very used to it.

"Are you alright?"

'Damien' started slightly at the question. "Yes...?"

"It's cold." He clarified.

The teen shrugged it off. "I don't really feel it." He rubbed the back of his neck – a nervous tic the detective had picked up on throughout the meetings. "So," he regarded the Boy Wonder curiously, "why are you here?"

Robin leaned forward, folding his hands over his ankles. "You don't trust us." His voice was gentle, a statement not an accusation. 'Damien' looked down. Even in the dim light of the lamp the Boy Wonder could see his ears reddening. "And I was kind of wondering why that was?" The teen bit his lip. He opened his mouth, paused, fumbled, then closed it awkwardly. Raven hair fell to hide the blue eyes as he silently shook his head. Robin wondered if the boy even knew the reason. Perhaps it was just instinct at this point.

Denim chafed the concrete as the teen shifted in place, continuing to examine his knees. Robin sighed. "Look, we're not being fair." 'Damien's' attention snapped back to him, eyes narrowing faintly. The detective watched him bristle at the perceived challenge, sensing the arguments to come. He held up a hand, "Just listen first, alright?" A sharp nod. "You're 'Phantom's' partner. That means that we're going to need to work with you – both of you – in the future."

"And?"

"And Batman and have been asking a lot of questions. Personal questions." The Boy Wonder took a breath, nudging into dangerous waters. "But we haven't been giving much..." a pause, "in return."

"So?" The reply was guarded, confusion written in the lines of 'Damien's' face. Clearly this wasn't the way he'd expected the conversation to go.

"So," Robin shaped the words with care, bringing his idea to the table, "let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"A trade," the detective tightened his grip on his ankles. "We know practically nothing about you." 'Either of you,' he amended silently. "So let's swap," Robin tried to ignore the apprehension crawling across his skin. "You tell me yours and," he hesitated, "I'll tell you mine." He watched the older boy's face, gauging his reaction. "Deal?"

"I suppose..." Robin could see him examining the words, searching for any hidden deceptions. "Depends on what you want to know."

He cast around for an easy question. "Favourite colour?"

'Damien' shot him a dubious look, "Blue."

The Boy Wonder nodded encouragingly, "Red." The teen's eyes flickered down to his uniform. Robin shrugged – it was sort of obvious now that he thought about it – searching for other innocent topics. Better to start harmless, let the kid get a feel for the arrangement. He had to convince the teen that he could keep his side of the deal, let him trust that he would play by the rules. Push too hard, too soon and the door could snap shut. "Sports?" 'Damien' shook his head. "How about Hobbies?"

The other boy's eyes turned distant for a moment. "Astronomy..." He glanced upwards.

Robin followed the teen's gaze to the dim, heavy ceiling. The weight of it pressed down on the acrobat. "Gymnastics," he returned, drawing 'Damien's' attention back to him. "Do you play board games?" A nod. "Have a favourite?"

'Damien' rubbed at the back of his neck. "Anything that isn't chess."

The young hero gave a quiet chuckle. "Monopoly." Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but the teen's answers seemed to be coming with more ease. He tried again, "Videogames?"

"Have you heard of 'Doomed'?" The detective nodded. The name rang vague bell... a small online multiplayer; some kind of fantasy shooter if he remembered right.

"Mario Kart." Robin's lip twitched, suddenly struck by the ridiculousness of their game. The most experienced member of the team, sitting in a locker at some ungodly hour of the night playing trivia with a ghost's partner. He held down an unexpected laugh – it was beyond ludicrous. A small smirk broke through, "Cats or Dogs?"

The older boy made a tiny noise at the back of his throat, eyebrows lifting incredulously. The detective shrugged – 'Why not?' 'Damien' leaned forward, resting his arms on the tops of his knees. "Dogs." The Boy Wonder's grin widened.

"Tell me about it. Cats are a drag." A spark played in the back of the teen's eyes, mouth lifting into what could almost be a smile. Shoulders relaxed as the boy ran a hand through his hair. Robin studied the change in posture, taking in the mood of the room. Time to chance a move into more sensitive territory. He kept his voice conversational, selecting the next question with a flutter of trepidation. "Birthday?"

The smile faded, unease flitting across 'Damien's' face. Tiny creases appeared between his brows. Conflicted. But maybe, with the right push... "How about I start this time?" Wary blue eyes glanced at the detective. He swallowed a twinge of anxiety, "December first."

The teen gave a small nod, biting his lip as he regarded his own hands. "March twenty-fifth." Robin gave the boy a grateful smile, absorbing the new information. Sixteen this year so... 1995. 'File and Save.'

"You travel a lot, right?" The detective pulled a titbit from the first night, moving them back toward the trivial. 'Damien' was clearly uncomfortable with the previous line of questioning. "Have you been overseas?"

A shrug. "Not really."

"That's a shame. Where would want to go, if you could?"

"Never really thought about it. 'Sides..." Robin caught the well-disguised sadness behind the word. The teen knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"I'd like to go back to Europe." The statement received a curious glance. "I was born there," the Boy Wonder explained, easing into the next question. "What about you?"

"Lived here my whole life."

"Do I get to know where?" He pried gently. The other boy gave him a flat look, wary once more. "Come on," he kept his tone light, "are you really going to make me guess?" It wouldn't take much. A state or even just a region could narrow down a list. And combined with a date of birth... but from the look in 'Damien's' eyes the teen knew exactly how easy it would be to retrieve a name. The blue gaze was becoming analytical, shoulders hunching slightly. Closing off. The boy rubbed the back of his neck again, expression pained. Could he answer? Would he? The detective didn't know. And even if he did, what could he say in return? Everyone knew that the Batman's territory – his territory – was Gotham City. It wouldn't be a fair trade.

Robin bit the inside of his cheek, running through his other options. Maybe the direct approach would be best. He was here for information, not to dance around the issue like they always did. There was another card to play, even if the thought of doing so made him nauseous. Better to just pay the price and get it done.

Still, there were only a few small steps between compromising and being compromised.

He sighed audibly, "This isn't working." 'Damien' glanced up at the change in tone. "Look, I get it. You're used to doing things on your own, and if there was a dissection table with my friend's name on it I probably wouldn't trust people either. But is this really where you want to be?" He ignored the teen's wince, gesturing to the barren emptiness around them. "Stuck in a box? It's dark, it's cold, you can't see the sky... I don't think you want to be here. And I know it's not safe for you to keep being here." He met the teen's gaze, holding the focus of the bright blue eyes. "You're worried. Fair enough. But we're not going to rat you out." The memory of Superboy's Cadmus pod flashed though his mind, leaving a sour flame behind. "I have a friend who was raised as a lab experiment. Batman and I would never send anyone back to that. Do you really think we care that 'Phantom's' a ghost? I mean, half of the League technically aren't 'humans'." A myriad of emotions contorted 'Damien's' features. Robin took a breath, reaching the crux of the matter. "So-" a thought sent a swooping sensation through his stomach. "Confirm something for me?" The teen cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "You do know where 'Phantom' is right now don't you? You could contact him if you wanted to?"

"Yes."

The detective allowed the assurance to wash over him. "I'm going to make you an offer." He was here, he'd already committed to the plan. Might as well go through with it. "One time deal only." He paused, "Tell me your name. Your real one. Get in touch with 'Phantom', try to get him to talk to us. Set up a meeting if you can."

The teen leaned towards the suggestion. "Okay, and in return?"

"Like I said," Robin swallowed hard against the chills that crawled up his spine. He shaped the offer precisely, laying it on the table in a voice that was almost treacherously casual, "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

The walls echoed from the absence of sound. 'Damien' gaped at him, expression almost comically stunned. He stumbled, mouth opening several times before finding his tongue. "You're," The teen's voice cracked in disbelief, "You're not serious."

Robin wished he could agree. Part of him wanted to grab the words and bury them far away. To take them back. What he was proposing wasn't just dangerous, it was insane. Hugely, enormously reckless. And Batman... granted Bruce wasn't all that upset when Wally found out – not that he been pleased either – but that was Wally. Kid Flash. A respected and trusted hero. 'Damien' was a total stranger. An unknown factor. But that was the whole point. A show of trust. A leap of faith. If there was one thing he felt sure of, it was that the teen was loyal. And if he was going to gamble he'd at least do it on someone who'd saved his life.

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't." The Boy Wonder tried to believe his own conviction.

Silence fell in the locker, chasing the shadows around the walls. Robin swore he could hear the snow falling on the roof outside. The other boy was frozen in place, face hidden by a hand that tangled through his fringe. A small voice stirred in the Boy Wonder's chest, gaining strength with each passing second. It was going to be okay. The kid wasn't going to answer. He didn't have to go through with it.

Time slowed.

"...Danny."

The teen seemed surprised to hear his own voice. He shivered; whether from fear, exhaustion or cold the Boy Wonder couldn't tell. A shaky breath was released, hesitation clear. "My name's Danny. Daniel James Fenton." Robin didn't need to be a psychoanalyst to understand the struggle it would have taken to say the words. The boy – Danny, Danny; he finally had a real name – scrubbed his face with the heel of a hand, looking everywhere except at the young hero. He gave an encouraging nod, mentally filing the precious information. Blue eyes flickered his way. The teen had paid the price.

So.

It was his turn.

Cold sweat dampened Robin's hair, plastering raven strands to the back of his neck. For a second the Boy Wonder was tempted to lie, to throw out a false name and protect his alias. He had what he came for – did the truth really matter now? The thought was sickeningly low. Incredibly compelling. He swallowed.

"Richard..." The weight of secrets pressed against his tongue, "Richard John Grayson." He dragged teeth over his lower lip before adding, "Friends call me Dick." Robin dropped his gaze to his interlocked fingers, unable to look the other boy in the eye. Hands were squeezed together tightly, counting each breath to keep them steady. He felt small. Vulnerable. Knowing that another person held that kind of power, actually giving it to them... He could sense Danny watching him, fitting the name to something beyond the mask; something more than a costume and a symbol. The detective ignored it, focussing on his protesting fingers, relaxing each from its grip as his heart slowed.

Eventually he steadied enough to glance upwards, earning an awkward cough from a teen not expecting to be caught in the act of staring. Danny looked quickly away, hand lifting to his neck. A spider-web crack divided the wall near the corner. Robin fixed his attention on the small flaw, allowing his thoughts to settle. Moving out of the over and into the whelmed. He had a few new pieces for the puzzle. But their deal had also included another.

"And 'Phantom'?" The Boy Wonder broached the topic carefully, "You'll talk to him?"

"Yeah," Danny gave a slow nod. "Tomorrow... can you get here early tomorrow?" Robin nodded quickly, running through the schedule in his mind. An opportunity to meet the ghost – he'd find a way to make time. "I'll explain everything then." The detective's eyes narrowed slightly at the change in conditions.

"And he'll be there?" An oddly uncomfortable look flitted across the boy's face.

"We'll see. Hopefully yes." The teen frowned, appearing to debate something, "Could you do me a favour?"

Robin's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Depends on what it is."

"It's just... Danny Fenton's been gone for a while now. If someone suddenly starts looking into his case..."

"...it might tip the wrong people off," the detective realised. "I'll be careful. Can I ask one in return?"

"I guess."

"I probably don't need to say this but," the Boy Wonder put as much authority as he could into the words, "my identity, Batman's identity – they need to stay secret. People could get hurt if they knew." He thought for a moment, "If you have to tell 'Phantom' to get him to show then I guess...but only him and only if you have to. You can't tell anyone else." He scrutinized the other boy's reaction, relieved at the seriousness on Danny's face.

"It won't leave this room. I swear." Robin allowed himself to relax slightly.

A newer, more comfortable silence made its way into the vault, both boys watching each other across the pool of light. Danny raised a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling in a failed attempt to stifle a yawn. The young detective held back a reply of his own, suddenly feeling the sleepless hours. His eyes were sandpapered behind the mask. Robin flicked on the holo-screen, wincing at the readout on the clock. Even by his standards it was exceptionally late – or rather, early. And with the time difference to Gotham...

"I should go." He pushed himself stiffly from the ground. The older boy mirrored his action, rising to his feet with the Boy Wonder. On impulse the detective stuck out his hand, rewarded with a cold but surprisingly firm grip. Robin could feel his knuckles through the glove.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

He turned to leave.

"Dick?" The Boy Wonder pulled up short at the sound of his real name.

He glanced back to the teen, "Yeah?"

Danny gave him a tired grin, the closest thing to a genuine smile he had seen in the long nights.

"Thanks."

Robin sent a mock-salute over his shoulder, making his way out the door.

Creeping silently through the fire exit the Boy Wonder took to the rooftops, heading for the Seattle Zeta port. He swung across the skyline, blood thrumming with a strange mix of pride, excitement and trepidation. Against all odds and idiocy his idea had paid off. The coming day could bring their search to a close. And in the meantime he had some research to do.

Assuming he survived whatever training regime Batman would assign when he found out, of course.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Answers

Grayson... who would have thought the world most mysterious teen would have such a public identity? The tinkle of a bell drew Danny's focus away from the monitor, eyes snapping up to canvas the interior of the internet café. One of the other customers had left. He rolled his shoulders, settling into the small corner seat. Going out in public was a risk, and it paid to be careful. The halfa turned back to the screen, typing a few new keywords into the search engine. Nine months on the run had made him remarkably diligent when it came to his 'homework'. Mr Lancer would have been proud. 'Though really it was Tuck' who did most of the work...' Danny bit down the pang, fixing his attention on the news clippings he'd found.

It was surprising how many results he'd managed from just a name. Usually Googling someone pulled up one or two useful hits, but apparently the dynamic duo had the most public private lives in the history of herodom. Now that he knew what to look for it was fairly easy to pick out the slim, neatly dressed, blue-eyed boy standing beside Gotham's most influential socialite. A domino mask and some gel could only hide so much. Though he was hardly one to talk. At least Robin hadn't used his first name as part of his alter-ego. Danny was grateful that most people chose to overlook that particular mistake when referring to his ghost half.

Anyway, Richard Grayson. The son – or more accurately, ward – of multibillionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. Taken in by the businessman after his family's trapeze act went terribly wrong. Nine years old, foul play suspected. Familiar tightness seized the halfa's throat; a sudden prick of sympathy for the younger boy. Robin always seemed so assured, so happy next to his mentor. He never would have guessed... Danny quickly closed the tab, moving on to other topics. As far as the rest of the world knew, Dick Grayson lived the typical life of the city's somewhat eccentric upper class. Didn't spend a lot of time in the public eye but occasionally made headlines at national Mathletics competitions – of all things – or attending charity balls at the elbow of his guardian.

'Bruce Wayne.' Just when he though the Batman couldn't get more intimidating. The 'King of Gotham' – even without the masks the dynamic duo had half the city under their thumb. Not to mention the rest of the world. Wayne Enterprises was enormous. Global spread, footholds in manufacturing, health sciences, transport, entertainment, advanced technologies... even his parents' business – which prided itself on original tech – carried the W.E. logo on the few generic components it outsourced. The halfa whistled through his teeth, struck by newfound respect for the cowled figure. Impossible, absolutely impossible...

But at the same time it made a lot of sense. The suits, the huge array of tech and vehicles, even the way the Justice League funded itself... the ultimate hiding in plain sight because the idea was so stupidly ridiculous. What sane person would expect the two most reclusive heroes to be headlining in the Gotham Gazette every other day? That the dapper, polished duo standing with easy grace and casually refined smiles for the cameras could hold their own against some of the world's worst villains? Sam would have been mortified. The Dark Knight and his apprentice were the closest thing she had to a 'favourite' hero – not that she'd ever admit to liking something so 'mainstream' – but when it came to 'those superficial upper-class flakies who swan about with their PR smiles and token charity groups and never do anything to solve the real problems'... even her violet gloss would have turned red. Tucker would freak. He'd totally geek out at the idea of knowing any Leaguer's identity – Dani joining in. And Jazz... Jazz would have been ecstatic. The idea of meeting other people who lived double lives – she'd have gone overboard with the psychoanalysis, asking questions, wondering which mask was the 'real' one, if they'd ever had the same issues as her 'little brother'... Danny shook his head violently against the sudden stab of pain. 'Jeez Fenton, why do you do that to yourself?' He needed to think clearly, which meant not thinking about them. About the fact that they were... 'Okay, stopping that thought right there.'

The halfa traced the table top with a fingernail, ignoring everything except the non-existent patterns in the cheap finish. In hindsight the whole thing felt foolish. All the caution, the evasion... Clockwork was right. It was safe. He probably could have told himself that a few days ago but something had always held him back. Had urged him to wait, even though he really didn't need to, even though he was running out of other topics. He definitely hadn't expected Robin to come and find him on his own. To make that offer. Danny rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the dark circles. How long had it been since he'd actually talked to someone? Had an actual conversation, not just the necessary few-minute exchange to get food and shelter? He was really truly, hopelessly out of practice with other people wasn't he? It was going to be okay. And just in case he needed more proof, there were no links between the Waynes and red flags like Axion or DALVcorp. No Danger. No Vlad. Besides, the Boy Wonder had put his neck on the block for him. Even if he wasn't sure, that kind of gesture deserved something in return.

He'd just have to hope they'd understand.

Fenton, Daniel J.
Age: 15
Date of birth: March 25 1995
Appearance: Caucasian/ Dark Hair/ Blue eyes/ Thin Build
Official Status: Deceased.

Which actually explained a lot.

Robin sighed, reaching up to massage his temples. Somehow the idea that the ghost's partner could also be 'dead' had managed to slip right past him. It was almost embarrassing. He carefully retraced his steps through the databases, being sure to erase all signs of his search. Not something he usually would bother with – even skilled hackers had difficulty following his trail – but if the people he was up against were willing to stalk a teenager for nine months then it paid to take extra precautions. The Boy Wonder finished backdating the entry logs, turning his attention to the small pile of newly 'acquired' information. Daniel Fenton's life might seem average at a glance, but the more abnormal parts were definitely noteworthy.

Fenton. The name had felt familiar as soon as he heard it. Amity Park's most prominent 'ghost hunters'. A small family– parents Madeline and Jack, older daughter Jasmine. Danny was the youngest. As far as the rest of the world knew, all four members had been laid to rest in the Amity Park Cemetery. The victims of the two worst non-ghost-related tragedies in the town's recent history.

He started with the second incident, the one that linked more directly to his case. Four faces appeared on screen. Jasmine, Daniel and two family friends – Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley. The teens had disappeared within a week of the first disaster; declared dead after the family home and business – Fenton Works – was destroyed by an explosion. Exact cause unknown, attributed to improper storage of volatile chemicals in the on-site laboratory. Occupational Health and Safety had raised concerns about the building before. No bodies recovered – the blast had all but vaporised the basement and the rest of the house apparently wasn't much better – but sufficient forensic evidence and witness statements were gathered to place all four children on premises at the time. Local authorities had pursued the case a little further than normal in light of recent events, but no-one in the town had pushed for added information. A knot of empathy tied itself in Robin's chest. There'd been no push for the truth because nobody had been there to do the pushing. The teens' parents were confirmed deceased less than a week earlier. The first tragedy. Another explosion – reportedly due to a dysfunctional boiler – at the local school, Casper High. This time there was little room for doubt; the accident had claimed the lives of Madeline, Jack, Angela and Maurice Foley, Pamela and Jeremy Manson and vice principle Edward Lancer. A parent-teacher meeting gone horribly wrong. The detective winced. He'd already suspected the truth, but to see it laid out so starkly... Eyes in different shades of blue, green and violet watched him from the monitor. Danny was still very much alive, so maybe, just maybe... but the sour feeling in his stomach and the air of loneliness that surrounded the older boy warned him not to hope. The teen had obviously been flying alone for a while.

He shook away the thought, highlighting one of the photos. The face was younger, a little rounder, cheeks a little fuller, shorter hair, brighter smile – but still definitely the boy from the locker. So what was the connection? The appearance of 'Phantom' had heralded the town's great streak of hauntings. Both events supposedly linked back to a somehow stable portal to the other side. And at the same time, Danny Fenton's life had been turned upside down. A well-behaved, polite – if geeky and somewhat clumsy – high B average student had become a complete anarchist almost overnight. Barely passing, sleeping in class, tardiness, ditching school completely... and the nurses reports. Unexplained bruises, cuts, claw marks, burns, occasionally something more serious... all with flimsy excuses, and apparently only reported when concerned teachers forced the teen into going to the school office. No-one had been able to understand why. Bullying was considered and discarded, subtle enquiries into the teen's home life indicated that the family were their usual, eccentric but supportive, selves and the town lacked the big-city gang, fight or drug cultures that could otherwise cause the change. Eventually it had been decided that Daniel suffered from a debilitating phobia of the paranormal. His behaviour reportedly worsened when ghosts were about and he was almost never present during attacks.

Gloved fingers drummed the keys in agitation. It would all have been consistent with someone moonlighting as 'the Phantom's' partner, but no matter how the Boy Wonder looked at it, he couldn't make that theory stick. For one thing, the kid was a Fenton. A member of the family so frequent vocal and actively aggressive in opposing the ghost that they had made it into the urban myths. Even as scientists, their research centred around the 'inherent evil' of the spirits, detailing creatures that were as lacking in their capacity to feel pain and emotion as they were to be fully sentient. It didn't make sense for someone raised in that environment to even approach a ghost, let alone strike up an alliance with one. And even if the individual members of the family had never been named in the stories, how was it that no-one had made mention of the supposed 'partner'? The teen had to have been doing field work, and frequently too. So why had nobody ever seen him? He was still missing something. There had to be a connection, some fact he was overlooking, a fundamental assumption he was making. Robin pulled up the file containing what little solid evidence they had gathered on the ghost, fully intending to pick every inch of the information apart-

And froze.

It was one of the few clear images he had recovered from the government files, taken within weeks of the dark-haired teen's class photo. One of few files to feature a full-face shot of the spectre. He enlarged the image, lightening and enhancing, laying it next to the picture of the other boy. The ghost's aura altered the shadows enough to escape a casual glance, but the angle of the cheekbones, the shape of the eyes, the line of the nose and jaw, right down to the haircut...

A fundamental assumption. Two equal and opposite forces, two concepts that were so absolutely defined that no-one would think to look. Like a catalyst the thought sparked a chain reaction of memories. Small inconsistencies, abnormalities that meant nothing on their own but taken together... The tracer. Never online when Fenton was present. A door that couldn't be locked from the inside. The abnormally low thermal reading. Faint green flashes in the blue eyes when the teen was threatened or pushed too close to dangerous territory. The vague, two-way answers. "He's your partner." "Wouldn't exactly put it that way"... "I don't ever really see him"... "It's complicated"... "That's not how it works."

And another detail. When the ghost had first claimed a name for himself it had had two parts. The first had faded out over the months but it appeared too often to be a random embellishment.

The penny tumbled, hitting the ground with a clang that shook reality.

Phantom. Danny Phantom. Danny.

'How is that possible?'

If Miss Martian had set up a mindlink right now, she probably would have gotten a headache. Robin's brain felt like it was in overdrive, trying to make sense of the new realisation. The world was full of grey areas, of middle grounds – most of the work he did with Batman fell outside of the black and white. But some things had to be defined, had to be cut-and-dried... didn't they? He kept looking for the alternatives, for other evidence... but everything he found only seemed to add strength to his epiphany. Exactly what was Daniel Fenton? A human with ghost-like powers, passing himself off as one of the undead? A ghost who'd taken on a human form, the same way Martians and other aliens concealed themselves to blend in on earth? Or was his theory completely wrong?

Hopefully he was about to find out.

The inside of the locker looked the same as it did every night. Robin carefully scanned the room, taking in any possible differences. Danny stood in his usual corner, presence seeming to emphasise the lack of an expected second figure. Realisation nudged the young hero again. The teen rubbed absently at his neck, looking up at the sound of the opening door.

"Hey." A mutter and a nod answered the Boy Wonder's greeting, hand dropping to toy with the hem of his sleeve. The detective's gaze wandered the walls. Invisibility was a definite option, but from the way the other boy was acting... Danny already fidgeted more than 'Damien' ever had. "So," he studied the teen carefully, "will he be here soon?"

The same oddly uncomfortable look flashed across the older boy's face. He glanced down, tugging at his collar. "I... um, look. About that..." he swallowed nervously, "there's something... the truth is..."

"You're him." Robin finally let himself admit his suspicions.

Danny froze. Surprise. Fear. Guilt. They danced across the teen's face before settling into resignation. He sighed, biting his lip as his head dipped in affirmation. The detective's first theory had turned out to be the right one. The idea that he had, until a few hours ago, discarded on the grounds that it was too improbable to be real.

And yet, here they were.

Robin raised an expectant eyebrow, making a gesture of invitation. Danny seemed to force himself to meet the young hero's gaze, glancing back down as hesitantly stepped away from the wall. He paused, arms hanging loosely by his sides.

A spark flared.

Cold white light bloomed around the teen's midriff, splitting into two rings that swept outwards from his core. As they moved they changed, pulling smooth black fabric over loose-fitting street clothes, pouring electrified green into the pale blue, turning fair skin dark as colour bleached from the raven hair. A faint, misty glow joined the lamp's dull yellow, the already cold temperature dropping noticeably. Reaching the floor and empty air, the light flickered and died.

A familiar ghost watched from where the boy once stood.

The detective appraised the difference, scientific curiosity drawn to the paradox. The transformation had inverted the teen's colours – all except the eyebrows, which, for whatever reason, remained dark in both forms – but in build and body shape everything else remained the same. Clearly still Daniel Fenton, just more... spectral. Neon eyes shone with unearthly light, a fainter glow from the white hair adding to the dim aura that cast pale shadows over several feet of cement. Unfamiliar dark fabric – possibly a form of latex – stretched over a frame that was taller, more sharply angled than the photos of Amity Park's self-appointed protector. Older, thinner; someone who had seen harder times than the confident fourteen year old from the pictures. He... seemed really nervous, the Boy Wonder realised. Shoulders hunched slightly, leaning away from the analytical stare. Unexpected fear lit the brilliant green, an almost pleading edge to worried glances. Uneasy. Probably not of an attack – the Boy Wonder was painfully aware of how underpowered he was compared to a ghost – so there had to be something else, something that worried the spirit more than... 'Oh'.

Robin sent the teen an apologetic smile. "So, you're a ghost?" He kept his voice casual, acting as though it was the most normal question in the world. A small amount of tension bled out of the older boy's frame, fear softening to caution as he nodded.

"When I'm like this, yes." The Boy Wonder blinked, grateful for the mask that hid his surprise. He'd forgotten the strange, faintly hollow echo that layered the spirit's voice. The ghost sounded haunted.

"And you go by 'Phantom'?" They hadn't been corrected on their use of the title, but after the number of times people had butchered Kid Flash's name he felt compelled to check. The spectre dipped his head. "Wait..." Robin paused, noticing a difference in the previous answer "when you're like this? What happens the rest of the time?"

Phantom tugged at his glove, hand lifting to his neck in a familiar motion. "I'm... human." His mouth twisted ruefully. "Well, half human anyway." Robin's brow furrowed. A human with ghost powers was understandable. A spectre that could take on a human appearance made sense. But a... part-ghost?

"How?"

"I'm what people call a halfa. A hybrid," the spirit elaborated. "Half a kid, half a ghost." He glanced his way, seeming to anticipate a question, "And no, we're not born like this." Robin grimaced – an idea he could definitely have done without. Besides, all records suggested the Fenton's were one hundred percent human.

"Then how?"

The ghost ran a thumb over his chin, seemingly unsure of how to approach the topic. "How... How much do you know about my family?"

"They were researchers," The Boy Wonder stepped lightly, knowing he was walking potentially sensitive ground. "Specialised in ecto-biology... ghost science." He'd picked up a few of their papers out of interest. The high level physics and chemical spectra involved were more Wally's territory, but he'd got the gist. "Inventors," the business had supplied most of the publicly available ecto-tech in Amity Park, as well as some clean-energy modified pieces further afield. Then there were the urban legends, "and hunters."

Phantom tucked his chin, eyes turning distant. "Yeah..." he shook his head slightly, refocusing on the younger hero. "I told you that Amity Park's ghost problem was because of a stable portal, right?" Robin nodded curiously. "Well, what I didn't tell you was that it was our portal." 'Wait what?' The ghost sighed. "My parents' big project. They were trying to open a permanent door to the Ghost Zone – get real data to work with. They'd been at it since their college days and when they tried this time... well, it flopped again. Or, at least that's what we all though. I was down in the lab with my friends a couple of days later. They wanted to see it... and I got curious enough to go inside." He grimaced, "There was an internal backup switch."

The detective's stomach turned over. "You mean you were...?"

"Standing in the portal when it came online." The ghost shivered, rubbing his arm. "Not exactly a party." Robin's skin crawled. Trapped inside something designed to punch through to another dimensional plane, exposed to who-knew-what kind of warping forces. The sheer amount of energy... forget dying, anything caught by that should have been obliterated. The idea made his throat clench. Phantom was lucky to even be half alive. 'Half alive.' The Boy Wonder blinked, suddenly registering another, bizarre, implication of the teen's status.

"Do you know what happened?" The ghost gave him an inquisitive look. "Physiologically," the detective clarified. "How does the 'halfa' thing work?"

"I... have no clue," he admitted. "Halfas... let's face it, we're freaks." Phantom's mouth twitched in a self-depreciating, almost bitter smile. "There's only ever been, what – three of us? In all of history. We're not really supposed to exist, so it's not like there's any information out there." He sighed tiredly. "The best we we've been able to guess is that my DNA is... fused with ectoplasm from the Zone. Or coated in it, or made of it – I don't know for sure. It's not like I can just walk into a hospital or a lab and get it checked." The ghost shrugged the words away with a dismissive noise; an attempt at nonchalance that couldn't quite hide the loneliness in his eyes. Robin wondered how many sleepless nights Phantom had had over the same question.

"You know," he offered, "the League has contacts in some high-end research labs. If you ever wanted to find out... we'd make sure the information stayed safe. They're already used to dealing with supers and aliens so you wouldn't have to worry – they know not to ask too many questions." The teen gave him a startled look, smile warming into something more genuine.

"I'll remember that."

The Boy Wonder's gaze drifted to the white glove that covered the spirit's right hand. The glove he had coated with tracer gel. Batman had known he was planning to head out early, but his mentor should have seen the signal come online by now. And depending on when he'd responded to the beacon... Robin glanced over his shoulder at the door.

It didn't go unnoticed. "He'll be here soon, right?" The detective nodded, shifting his position so that he could see the entrance. Phantom shifted as well, sending the young hero a concerned glance. "Um... does he know? You know," the halfling gestured towards himself, "about this?"

"Probably," he hadn't exactly told Bruce his new theory, but he had left the new files prominently on his desk before leaving. "He'll have figured it out by now."

Phantom stiffened, eyes darting to the steel tracks of the door. The ghost straightened, setting his shoulders as the handle clicked and a second, darker shadow joined them in the vault. The Bat seemed completely unsurprised by the presence of the spectre, moving quietly to stand with his protégé. Robin sent a faintly smug grin his mentor's way, receiving a slight upward shift in the lines around the Dark Knight's mouth before the elder hero slipped back into business mode.

"Daniel Fenton?" Batman appraised the young ghost, directing a questioning glance at the Boy Wonder. Robin dipped his chin in unspoken answer. "Why didn't you tell us?"

The spirit hesitated. "About that." He exhaled, "I... owe you an apology. I've made this way harder than it needed to be. I guess I'm out of practice trusting people – and I'm not all that great at taking advice – but still…" Phantom shook his head, moving his hand in a gesture of peace, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I should've been straight with you to begin with." A smile crept onto the Boy Wonder's face. He could sense Batman's surprise beside him; apologies – at least, genuine ones – were rare on the job. Especially from the person they were investigating.

"How much of what you've told us is true?"

"Everything. I might have left some parts out but I wasn't lying."

"Then why hide the truth at all?"

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly? I've never been good with secrets. Even back in Amity there were times when I should have told people – when I owed it to them – but…" he looked down, melancholy regret burning behind his eyes before they were obscured by the shock of white hair. He quickly brushed the bangs away. "And the way things have been going, if something had leaked – if the right information got into the wrong hands… well, it would be bad. For everyone. Humans and ghosts."

"Good reasons to hold back. But you understand that..."

"You have questions. I get it. So," the ghost watched the duo expectantly, "what do you want to know?"

The Boy Wonder flicked an incredulous look the Dark Knight's way. After so long on the case there was something almost laughable about the idea of just asking for information. Batman reached into a pocket of his uniform, unaffected by his charge's amusement as he withdrew a number of printed pages. It was unfortunate but, by necessity, the topic they had to start with was an unpleasant one.

"You've had some bad press." The majority of the myths seemed to be positive, but there were a substantial number of critics amongst the fans. Many simply opposed the idea of a ghost, but some of the specifics were... disturbing to say the least. Robin gave the articles a dubious look. More than half of what he'd read had to be borrowed straight from old-school horror stories – word for word in some cases – and he couldn't see the Danny showing the kind of cold-blooded cruelty other rumours wanted to paint on him. But the allegations were severe enough to warrant following up.

The spectre thumbed through the file, expression morphing from curiosity to distaste. He glanced up at the elder hero.

"Where did you get these?"

"The same places that gave us our initial information. Obviously we can't put credence in the source," the sites were riddles with misinformation, as they had found throughout the nights of interrogation, "but as you can see some of claims are very serious." The Dark Knight fixed the teenager sternly in his sights. Phantom didn't seem like the criminal type... but then again, neither would most of the people they faced.

"That's not saying we believe them," Robin was quick to add, "but we need to hear your side of the story. Routine practice, you know?"

The ghost nodded, turning a few more pages. He paused on a particular article, wincing as he rubbed his chin. "Okay to start with, this one's completely wrong. The Red Huntress is real, but she's not trying to avenge anyone. I never touched her family."

"Then what happened?"

Phantom sighed. "There was this ghost dog – Cujo. He used to be a guard dog for the company where Red's dad worked but when they went electronic all the dogs, well..." he trailed off, making an indicative motion. "Anyway, Cujo kept going back to the lab to get this squeaky toy that was buried in the kennels. He'd wreck the place, I'd try to stop him... her dad was head of security. He almost got fired because the system couldn't keep him out. They lost a lot."

"That doesn't explain the grudge against you."

A vaguely exasperated look crossed the ghost's face. "Red thought Cujo was my dog. That I owned him..."

"...and that you were setting him on the building," Robin finished. That would explain her reportedly specific loathing of the town protector. "She thought you were trying to destroy her father's reputation."

"More or less. Once it was over, I tried to explain but..." he made a defeated gesture.

"She still holds you responsible."

"Exactly. Blames me, hates me for it... she thinks ghosts are nothing but trouble." Phantom looked down at the paper with repulsion, "But I swear I never hurt her Dad. I was trying to fix things between us." The same tired regret flickered in his eyes, hand waving helplessly towards the page. "I have no idea where that story came from."

The Boy Wonder nodded sympathetically. It wouldn't be the first time a hero – or villain for that matter – had fallen victim to the rumour mill. Even the most publically active League members couldn't completely escape the speculations of the general public. Themselves included. Both he and Batman had encountered some truly appalling attempts to detail their origins and motives; the tip of the iceberg compared to the stories that circulated around their super-powered colleagues.

"Okay, that makes sense."

"But there have been other allegations." The Dark Knight glanced at the file in the teen's hands. The violence of the 'Huntress' myths may have been overblown but they were only one slice in a thick stack of claims. Phantom made a face as he turned to the next story.

"Before you ask, I never kidnapped the mayor, or anyone else. That was a set up."

"By who?"

"Another ghost. Walker. He's the prison warden."

Robin raised an eyebrow, "The Ghost Zone has a jail?" They'd briefly touched the Flipside's geography and social hierarchy, but its legal system hadn't been something they'd considered. The ghost nodded.

"Yeah, and laws to go with it."

Batman's eyes narrowed, not liking the implications. "You broke the law?"

"In a way..." Phantom's mouth twisted strangely, "But not really."

The Boy Wonder's mask creased, trying to make sense of the statement. "What's that supposed to mean?" You either broke the law or you didn't. Courts didn't typically have halfway points – unless the afterlife worked by a different process.

"Well, different regions of the Zone have their own laws. Most are pretty standard – don't kill, don't steal, don't start pointless fights, that sort of thing – but Walker is... crazy. In his corner he's the lawmaker, enforcer, judge, jury, jailor and the executioner all at the same time." The Bat held back a snort. No system based on a single, unquestionable power remained 'fair and just' for long. Apparently some things were constant even in death. "He has rules for everything and anything – loitering, possessing real world items... right down to the colour of your socks. Every time I come back, he's added a new one." Phantom grimaced at a memory. "A thousand years is his idea of a lenient sentence, and that would be for something small. He had half the ghosts I know locked away for basically no reason."

It didn't take a detective's skills for Robin to see where the story was headed. "I'm guessing you..."

"Broke out, yeah. Obviously he didn't like that very much and decided to get revenge."

"By making it look like you kidnapped the mayor?" A small amount of scepticism bled into the Bird's tone.

"He said something about 'making the human world into my own personal prison'." The ghost rolled his eyes, clearly in agreement with the Boy Wonder's sentiment. "He and some of his goons overshadowed-"

"Overshadowed?"

"Possessed," Phantom clarified. "Took over their bodies." Unease prickled down Robin's shoulders; he'd half-hoped that particular power was a myth. "Anyway, they overshadowed the mayor, some of the students, the head of the school... put everyone on lockdown. Turned the town against me," the frustration in his voice was clear. "Made it seem like it was all my fault. Walker was controlling the mayor personally."

"You tried to stop him." It was easy for the Dark Knight to connect the dots.

"Yeah, but what everyone else saw was 'Danny Phantom the town menace' attacking 'Mayor Montez'. Walker made sure we had an audience." He snorted irritably, shaking his head. "Grabbed hold of me on camera and pretended I was holding him hostage." It was clear that the incident still carried a bitter taste. "Took a long time for anyone to believe I was on their side after that."

Disturbing though it was, the Boy Wonder had to credit the warden's plan. 'Go back to ghost-jail, or be hunted by humans.' As revenge schemes went it sounded remarkably thorough. And believable. It was strange to only have one witness but he'd easily take Danny's word over the hate and propaganda of the anonymous authors. The counter-stories fitted with everything Robin had already seen; not a villain but a fellow hero – albeit one apparently suffering from bad publicity, clever enemies and a chronic case of wrong-place-wrong-time.

"And the thefts?" he asked, sensing the pattern, "Similar story again?"

Phantom's gaze drifted down to the floor. He scuffed a boot against the cement, shame flickering across his face as he reached a hand to his neck. "...No. Those... actually happened."

The confession struck the young detective like a slap, stomach dropping as he stared at the ghost.

"Explain. Now." The Dark Knight's words came out sharper than normal.

"A... circus came to town. Sort of like a gothic, freak show carnival." The spirit swallowed nervously. "We didn't know it at first, but the main performers were actually ghosts. The ringmaster, he had this... staff. We're not sure exactly what it was – magic, a ghostly item, hypnosis... whatever it was, it could control us, make us compelled to do everything he said. Even seeing it on a screen was enough. I..." he paused, remorse twisting his features, "I honestly don't remember most of what came next. I know I did a lot of bad things – some really bad. They told me afterwards... he sent me out to steal with the others. And... other things too." He shivered. "My friends were able to stop me, to get through to me somehow. They helped me fight it, managed to get the staff away from him. Broke his control. The other ghosts got free as well and he was arrested. Turns out there'd been robberies all along the circus' tour route." Phantom shuffled in place, staring resolutely at his feet.

Tension uncoiled between Robin's shoulders. "You weren't in control."

"No." The ghost's eyes flickered guiltily to the young hero. "But that doesn't change the fact that it was me doing it."

Relief washed over him like a wave. The Boy Wonder slowly shook his head, smile breaking through the anxiety. Just another misunderstanding. More serious maybe, but things weren't as they appeared. Phantom continued to flip through the file, avoiding the gazes directed his way.

"I don't have anything on the rest of these... I mean, the ghost fights caused a lot of property damage but I tried to keep them away from the town. I definitely don't go out breaking things for fun." He frowned, "Other than that, I can't hypnotise people, Aragon's the only one I know who's ever taken a human captive and ghosts don't eat souls."

Batman evaluated the spirit. "And there have been no other incidents?"

"Apart from the ghost attacks? No..." Phantom's face fell slightly, brushing a hand distractedly over his hair.

"What?"

"It's just... When we were on the run..." His eyes darted to the Dark Knight. "We didn't unless we had to... and if we could we left money, but sometimes we... couldn't get things the proper way... or we had to go places that we weren't allowed."

"Such as the false licence."

Phantom sighed, dipping his chin in resignation. "I'm not proud of it." It was clear that the admission pained the teen but Batman appreciated his desire to be honest. A way of making up for the many nights of half-remarks and cryptic answers. And allowances could be made for extenuating circumstances. The Dark Knight would never condone illegal activity but there was an obvious difference between the people who broke the law for petty reasons and those who did things that they otherwise wouldn't in order to survive. He surveyed the concrete vault. With his powers it would have been easy for Phantom to take up residence in an owned locker rather than renting one.

"That's a different situation. Desperate times..."

The ghost blinked at the elder hero. His shoulders straightened, gratitude making its way onto his face as he gave the duo a small, relieved smile. He rifled through the papers a final time, stacking them neatly before offering them back to the Dark Knight.

"So, was there anything else?"

"Why were you in Portland?" It was something that Robin had wondered about since the ghost re-appeared in their lives.

"That was a huge coincidence. I'd been going southeast and needed to change direction before they started getting ahead of me." Phantom shrugged. "My ghost-sense went off – figured I'd find out what it was." He shook his head disbelievingly. "Who knew."

"What happened to the creatures?" The fate of the perpetrators had been one of Batman's principle concerns upon learning they had escaped the Team.

The spectre glanced his way. "Spectra and Bertrand? They're gone. A natural portal opened up, so I dumped them back into the Ghost Zone."

"How likely is it that they'll return?"

"Not very." Phantom frowned. "I mean, they'll try, but without the Fenton Portal it'll be hard for them to get across. They won't be back for a while."

The Dark Knight nodded, the mention of the name bringing up another, more difficult question. "Fenton Works." Two detonations involving the same family already flagged the investigation. The presence of a survivor raised both hopes and concerns. Phantom stiffened slightly at the words, rubbing the crook of his arm.

"What about it?" His voice was carefully controlled.

"We were wondering what really happened." Robin delivered the query as gently as he could.

White-gloved fingers tangled in the snowy fringe. "It... we..." the ghost took a breath, shaking himself. "We needed to disappear. All of us and everything Fenton as well." A small spark of hope flared in the Boy Wonder's chest. They had considered a targeted attack, but if the destruction of the business had been set up to cover the teen's tracks...

"I take it that Jasmine, Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley went with you." Batman had recognised the same possibility. Phantom's head dipped in a slow nod, lines tightening around his mouth.

"So then..." now that the option was there Robin couldn't let it go, "If you all got out. Are they...?"

The ghost shook his head. "They..." A ripple passed down his throat as he swallowed, "a lot's... happened... since then." His fingers bit into his arm, clenching his jaw as shoulders curled inward. Phantom fixed his gaze on a point beyond the heroes, eyes burning with a broken look that was horribly familiar. A sympathetic pang gripped the Boy Wonder's chest as he watched the ghost blink rapidly. Green eyes closed briefly, face settling into a well-constructed semblance of calm as he drew a long breath. No other explanations were required.

"I'm sorry." Batman and Bruce Wayne spoke together.

Phantom's mouth twitched weakly, rubbing his face with a mumbled, "What for?" False bravado perhaps, but the Dark Knight couldn't help but be impressed by the teen's outward control. It may not have been complete – jagged edges lingered in his eyes – but on the surface Phantom appeared to be holding together.

Robin's eyes drifted back to the teen's right glove. "Wait," he remembered. "Could I borrow your hand for a moment?" Confusion marked the spirit's expression but he complied, offering his palm to the young detective. The Boy Wonder gripped the cold, ethereal wrist, lifting a small canister from his belt. The arm suddenly slipped out of his grasp, Phantom eyeing the cylinder warily.

"What are you doing?"

"Just trust me." He caught the bony limb again, ignoring his mentor's slight disapproval as he doused the hand liberally with the contents. The ghost studied the wetness on his glove for a moment before turning the appendage translucent. Robin reached into another pocket, pressing a small circular device into the now-dry fist as it returned to tangibility. Phantom regarded it curiously, levelling a questioning glance at the Boy Wonder.

"What was that about?"

"The spray was a solvent-"

"For?" The ghost raised an eyebrow.

Robin sighed. "For the tracer gel I tagged you with. What?" he defended, noticing the spirit's suddenly narrowed eyes, "We needed to talk to you, and you didn't look like you were going to stick around."

"And this?" Phantom held up the new device, a faint note of suspicion colouring his tone.

"A different type of locator – in case you need to get in touch. More secure signal. Plus I figured you'd prefer not to have the tag on you." The ghost turned the tracking device over with a frown.

"We understand your reluctance to carry a tracer, but we'd appreciate it if you held onto it. Rest assured the beacon can only be accessed by us." He nodded slowly, slipping the coin-sized piece of technology into a concealed pocket.

Quiet rolled into the vault, conversation breaking for the first time that evening. Phantom took a half step back from the heroes, shooting the Bat a nervous glance. Robin blinked as pale rings washed over the teen again, reverting his cloth and colours.

"So," Fenton watched them cautiously, voice thinner in the absence of the spectral echo, "what now?"

What now indeed. Batman regarded the boy, taking in his clothes, the shadowy bareness of the vault, the events that had, and were occurring outside of the concrete walls.

"We have some things to consider." The situation needed to change, but the change needed to happen properly. To be thought through, weighed up to choose the best option. The Dark Knight wasn't going to gamble someone's future on a snap decision. "How long can you continue to be here?"

Danny scratched the back of his neck. "I should have left two days ago." Batman frowned behind the cowl, feeling the schedule push forward.

"Can you stay another night?"

"I can try..." his eyes were concerned, "after that I'll have to move though."

Twenty-four hours. Not as much time as the Dark Knight would have liked, but hopefully enough to come up with a solution. Now that the idea had struck him, Bruce wasn't going to let it go. He knew from experience how hard a road, how unhealthy a road, the lone wolf act could be. Daniel Fenton was obviously capable, a survivor, but it didn't change the fact that he was only fifteen. Age might be little more than a number in their game, but the kid needed a support network, some semblance of safety to fall back on. And with ghosts a very real – if rare – threat, Phantom's knowledge and skills would make him a valuable ally... if he could be persuaded to work with them.

The Bat nodded.

"It's possible that we may be able to help each other."

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Propositions

Empty.

The storage unit was empty.

Finding the door locked had been a bad sign, but Robin was prepared to write it off as precautionary behaviour. Now though... the young detective stalked away from his mentor, moving to the corner usually occupied by the teen. Nothing. Not even Danny's bags were there. Part of him hoped that that it was some kind of twisted prank. That the ghost was just invisible and intangible – a practical joke in spectacularly bad taste. The Boy Wonder paced the locker, searching for cold spot, electricity... a pointless exercise, he knew. They didn't have enough knowledge or experience with spirits to be able to detect one outside of conventional methods. Besides... call it a 'sixth sense' but there was a difference between a room with someone in it and one that was empty. Apart from the shadowy presence of Batman somewhere behind him the vault felt deserted. Robin snapped on the holo-screen, activating the thermal scan. Two readings. He tapped into the frequency of the new tracer. No signal. Wherever Danny was, he was human and he wasn't here. The young detective tilted his wrist, turning the display towards his mentor.

"I should have left two days ago." The memory whispered in the back of their minds, threading unease through the Boy Wonder's gut. He glanced up, seeing concern mirrored in the Dark Knight's frown. Every night was a gamble for the ghost. High stakes, dwindling odds. Their request for one more could have been one too many. If something had happened... Batman examined the concrete. Unmarked, no scuffing, no obvious signs of a struggle but... the elder hero drew an ultraviolet light from his belt, carefully running the bluish beam over the floor. Aside from a few small flecks in the corner where the teen slept there were no dark spots, nothing to indicate bloodshed. The Dark Knight dropped to a crouch, dragging a glove across the concrete. He rubbed the grit between his fingers, lifting the hand to his nose. No scent of solvents or other chemicals that could have been used to scrub away evidence. So then...

"Door seems fine." Robin darted back from the entrance as Batman rose to his feet. "No signs of forcing. Lock looks normal as well." The younger detective's brow furrowed. "Do you think someone...?"

"If they did, it was clean." The Dark Knight frowned. "Very clean." The attack – had there been one – had to have been fast. Phantom wouldn't have gone quietly and, from what he'd read of the ghost's powers, Batman doubted he would have been easy to subdue in a fight. A confrontation would definitely have left marks. Which meant the culprits had to have struck before teen had a chance to respond. His eyes narrowed. With Daniel's high vigilance and enhanced senses it seemed unlikely that the boy could be caught so completely off guard. Even less so that he would vanish without a trace. A fight was the most probable scenario, but the lack of evidence was rapidly pointing towards another, more disturbing, explanation.

"It's possible..."

The Boy Wonder bit his lip, hearing the unspoken end of the statement. Yes, it was. The chances were slim, but Danny could have left willingly. The question was, why? Danger might have forced the halfa to relocate – but if that was the case, wouldn't he have contacted them? Left a note? Signalled them somehow? It didn't make sense for the teen to just disappear. Unless... there was another option, one Robin really didn't want to have to consider. An option he couldn't bring himself to believe. Phantom had saved them from Spectra. He'd continued to stay each night, had answered their questions, had shown them his powers. The teen hadn't even wanted to talk them at first – except that suddenly he had. Except that now he knew things about them that almost no one did. The kind of information that was hugely valuable on the other side. Was it possible that...

"Sorry."

The duo started, hands dropping to belts as they whipped to face the voice. Green eyes shone hazily from the shadows of a deep hood, a transparent figure sliding silently through the wall. Danny glanced over his shoulder before pulling down the jacket's cowl, colours solidifying as the ectoplasmic glow faded to its usual blue. He looked briefly at the door, meeting the scrutinising glares with an apologetic expression.

"Where were you?" The accusation in the Dark Knight's voice was barely concealed.

"I..." He swallowed audibly, "Someone was following me." A breath hissed silently through Robin's teeth. "I ditched them eventually, but it took a while to get back." His eyes darted to the entrance again, tracing an anxious path through the sharpened air. The Boy Wonder unconsciously mimicked the action, scanning the already cleared walls. Whelming as it was to see the ghost unharmed and on their side, the news brought a much larger problem.

"Did you manage to get a good look at whoever it was? Can you describe them?"

The teen rubbed the back of his neck, "Not sure. He was... tall-ish. Brown hair. Blue jacket. Wore a baseball cap. Didn't seem too old... thirties maybe?" He shook his head, "I don't know. Sorry."

"Did he have any distinguishing features?" The young detective committed the description to memory, "Tattoos, scars, any injuries, that sort of thing?"

"I really couldn't tell you." Danny fiddled with the zip of his jacket, "I only caught a couple of glances. Didn't exactly hang around to find out. Not worth the risk."

Batman pressed his lips together. "Talk us through what happened."

"Right. Um..." The teen frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I went out to get some things. Supplies were getting low – figured I should top up before moving."

"Where are your bags?" Robin suddenly registered the absence of packages from the older boy's person.

Danny blinked at him. "Oh. That. If I could just..." he slipped past the duo, moving to a patch of cement that seemed just as unremarkable as the rest. Green flared in the teen's eyes as he sank to a crouch, plunging a translucent arm through the ground. The limb vanished to the elbow, oblivious to the duo's faint shock as he rooted around below the slab. A strap emerged, black sports bag coming to the surface. The bulk of the traveller's pack quickly followed. "There's a space under the floor," he explained as he set them aside. "I leave them there when I'm going out."

"You were saying?" prompted the elder hero.

"... So I went to get supplies," The halfling refocussed, wiping palms distractedly on his jeans. "There's a convenience store a few miles from here. Bit of a walk but," he shrugged. "I was almost there when... you know that feeling you get – like you're being watched? I changed direction, went a couple of streets over, came back a different way..." his eyes flicked to the door again, "couldn't shake it. After that I started moving. Tried to go with the crowd, stick to public places – too many people for anyone to try anything. First saw him around then."

"The man you described?"

The older boy dipped his chin in confirmation. "I think... I remember cutting through a park. I kept looking for somewhere to turn invisible, but there were always cameras or people around or he was too close–" he broke off sharply, shaking his head. "A bunch of kids were getting on a bus and I managed to get on with them. Lost him after that. Found somewhere quiet to disappear and... hid," embarrassment coloured the word, "until it felt safe. Headed back once it started to get dark." Robin saw his fingers quiver before they were buried in the pocket of the hoodie.

"What time did this happen?" Batman honed in on the details. A battered watch was revealed as the teen pulled back his sleeve.

"I left here around... one o'clock, I think. So I guess it might have been two-ish? Maybe a bit before."

"Can you identify the route you took? Would you be able to name any landmarks?" Danny's gaze drifted up and to the left, fidgeting his left cuff into place as he frowned.

"I don't know. I'd probably recognise the names if I heard them... might be able to point them out..." he bit his lip, nose wrinkling in frustration. "I was too focussed on the other guy to notice much."

Doors shook, metal rattling on their tracks. The teen flinched, dropping halfway into a fighter's stance as he skittered back, wide eyes snapping to entrance. The sound came again, this time accompanied by a low hum. A rush of air brushed against the Boy Wonder's ankles. Wind. It was just the wind. For a moment Danny stood frozen, locked in frightened rigidity before shoulders slumped, joints loosening as his face dropped into his hand. Something that could have been a weak laugh or shaky breath escaped, sarcastic mutter muffled by his palm. He ran the hand jerkily through his hair, inhaling deeply as he forced himself to relax out of the tense lines. Robin unclenched white knuckles inside his glove.

"I- look," the older boy shivered slightly, "I can't stay here anymore. Maybe today was just some regular creep, but they're here." The Boy Wonder didn't need to ask who he meant by 'they'. "I can feel it. I don't know how," he shook his head, "but they're here. In town. I need to leave."

"Do you have a plan?" Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but the Dark Knight was curious as to what the teen would do.

"Not really." Blue eyes turned calculating, "Don't want to leave the country, so... probably head south again. California... San Diego maybe? Find a new city to disappear." Danny rubbed the side of his face, sending them an imploring look, "If you still have questions... I mean, I don't want to run out on you, so if there's somewhere you wanted me to go...?"

"Actually," Robin surprised the older boy with a cheeky grin. He glanced up at his mentor, "we were hoping to talk to you about that."

"You're kidding." The words tumbled out almost before they finished speaking. Danny seemed to realise what he said, ears flushing pink as he clamped his mouth shut.

Batman raised an eyebrow. "We don't 'kid'." The flush darkened, gaze dropping to the floor. He looked back up with stunned incredulity.

"You want me to live... with you?" Robin nodded. Confusion twisted the older boy's features, "...Why?"

"Why not?" countered the Boy Wonder.

The response earned him a flat look. "But," Danny frowned, "isn't that really dangerous?"

Robin supposed he had a point. Even senior League members avoided Gotham where they could. Although, "We're not asking you to come on patrols. Just to stay."

The teen shook his head, "That's not what... I mean, there are people after me. If they connect me to you..."

"Precautions can be taken against that." The Dark Knight was well-aware of the risks. "Our headquarters and... residences... are well-defended against the use of surveillance and tracking equipment. You would not be making public appearances. We can devise additional strategies as necessary." Concern slowly began to fade, the look of puzzlement refusing to leave. He appraised the duo with questioning hesitancy.

"Okay but... why? Not that I'm not grateful," he added quickly, "but two weeks ago you didn't even know me."

There were, Batman realised, any number of answers for that question. They'd considered a multitude of factors; protection, education, opportunity, publicity, age, skill, experience... and many less rational, more personal reasons. The Dark Knight settled on the most logically sound argument.

"You need somewhere safe to go. Staying out in the open is no longer an option – what nearly happened today should make that clear. Arranging protection through the League would require us to make a number of other people fully aware of your situation and status – something we assume you would prefer to avoid. You already know our civilian identities..." Robin's neck prickled. He fought the urge to squirm, feeling the disapproving gaze bore into his back. It may have been the point that sealed their decision, but Batman's reaction to the revelation had been... well, underwhelmed was putting it lightly. Time constraints had spared an immediate reprimand but the Boy Wonder knew he was soon to be treated to a stern – and largely one-sided – discussion in which the words 'reckless decision', 'unacceptable risk', 'potential repercussions' and 'suspension of privileges' would no doubt feature heavily.

"...and we need your help," the young detective took over, moving swiftly away from the topic. Surprise flitted across the older boy's face. "Supervillians, criminals, aliens... we know how to deal with those things. But we don't know ghosts. Not the way you do." Danny made a small noise, glancing away self-consciously. "We can't fight them the way we normally would. Spectra wiped the floor with us when we tried," Robin winced internally. "We need someone who knows their strengths and weaknesses. Someone who knows how to stop them, to contain them... someone who can handle this properly." The teen's ears were scarlet by the time the Boy Wonder finished. He coughed, shuffling his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"And you think that's... me?" A hidden spark of pride played behind the uncertainty.

Batman regarded the boy calmly. "You're the most reliable source we known." Danny ducked his head again, lips twitching into a small smile. "Consider this a probation – a trial period. If it doesn't work we can make other arrangements."

The smile faded, becoming solemn once more as the teen considered. He ran a hand down the side of his face. They could almost see the gears turning, the consequences being weighed up. Fear. Safety. Loneliness. Trust. Hope. Despair. Familiar danger, uncertain opportunity. The devil he knew or the one he didn't. Danny flicked the heroes a cautious glance.

"You're sure about this?"

"Like I said before," Robin braved his mentor's displeasure, sending the older boy a tiny smirk, "we wouldn't have offered if we weren't."

The halfa exhaled, fingers raking through dark bangs before travelling down to scratch absently at his neck. The hand moved to his brow, small creases appearing as a thumb and forefinger rubbed his temples. His head shook slowly – but not in negation. Disbelief marked his features; wry, slightly dazed amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. Danny set his shoulders, resolution finding its way onto his face as the hand dropped back to his side. Their watchful gazes were met with equal parts excitement, wariness and acceptance.

"Okay. I'm in."

The Boy Wonder's smirk broadened into a full grin. Everything was about to change, he could feel it. Almost tangible – a near-imperceptible shift in the way the world turned. A faint sense of vertigo seized him. It would all be different... but in some ways exactly the same. Robin kept the smile as friendly as he could manage, trying to put a voice to the jumbled mess of exhilaration and apprehension. The Dark Knight intercepted him before he could speak.

"And you're sure?" There was a half beat pause before Danny nodded. "Then the details can wait. We can finish this once we're somewhere more secure." Batman tilted a hand towards the exit.

As the teen stooped to gather his bags, the young detective surveyed the locker's oppressive greyness for what he hoped was the final time. A creature of the night he may be, but at heart the acrobat was still a bird and – while certainly no stranger to even tighter corners – he was grateful for the wider spaces of their usual haunts. The concrete box would not be missed. Robin shifted onto the balls of his feet, suddenly eager to be gone.

Danny tightened the last of the pack straps, shouldering their sizeable awkwardness with practiced ease. The vault's key was fished from a pocket, hood raised to shade his face as he fell in step behind the Bat's protégé. The now trio padded carefully into the openness of the night, teen's footsteps ever so slightly louder in the wake of two trained shadows. A thought pulled at the Boy Wonder. A ghost. They were bringing a ghost. To the Batcave. Robin groaned silently.

As if Wally needed any more ammunition for bad jokes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Constants

The thin glow coming from beneath the door lit his silent approach. He carefully pushed it open, panel swinging smoothly on well-oiled hinges.

"Danny?"

A smirk tugged Dick's mouth at the older boy's jump. It was immature, he knew, but there was a certain childish pleasure to be had in startling the ghost. For days he'd been 'experimenting' with the perceptive range of the manor's newest resident. It had become something of a game, trying to see how close he could get before being detected. Danny gave him a small grin, shaking his head ruefully.

"Late night?"

"Not really." Routine more than anything was keeping him awake. A standing ban on all patrols, casework, team activities and any training deemed 'non-essential' ensured that the bird had plenty of free time. But, while the added sleep was hardly something to complain about, there were only so many hours his nocturnal conditioning could take. The teen's room had become an inevitable stop on the subsequent after-dark wanderings. Though, when he thought about it, having the same body clock as a semi-undead fugitive might not be the healthiest of signs.

In truth, the acrobat wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about his new housemate. Yes, he'd been the one to push the suggestion; yes, the manor was big and occasionally empty; yes, there were times when he'd entertained the idea of having someone else with him on the days when Bruce was away on business and Alfred was busy - but there was also a part that he wasn't convinced he could share. Their secret night lives, swinging from the tallest building, stopping crimes, working in the cave... that had all been his. Sure, Wally and a few others knew the full story, but really it had just been the three of them. Him and Bruce and Alfred. That was it. And, much as Dick Grayson liked new friends, a small part of Robin wanted it to stay that way.

But, as in all things, change had come. There'd been very little fanfare; no public announcements, none of the media storm that had surrounded his own addition to the Wayne household. To the rest of the world Daniel Fenton was dead and, with Phantom's hunters still at large, it was best that the declaration remained uncontested. Instead the ghost had moved quietly into one of the more unobtrusive guest rooms, a smallish space along what was once the servants' wing. The whole thing had been mercifully simple; an extra presence in the halls, a fourth plate on the table at mealtimes, a new voice that occasionally joined the conversation and merged training sessions from twos to threes. It wasn't entirely plain sailing – potential dangers, ghostly powers and a messy past all had to be navigated – but overall the transition had been... easy. Well, at least, easier than he expected. Thanks in no small part to Danny himself.

Dick opened the door widely, moving to stand next to the teen at the desk that occupied most of one wall. Not for the first time the acrobat was aware of his shorter-than-average size – at almost two years older Danny stood more than a foot taller than he did. He appraised his companion from the corner of his eye. If they'd passed in the street he mightn't have recognised the person beside him as the same one who'd accompanied them back from the locker. A haircut, a few solid meals and a couple of decent nights' sleep had made a staggering improvement to the halfa's appearance. Danny seemed to notice the silent assessment, glancing his way with questioning concern. He quickly dropped his gaze to the papers on the table. A mix of research articles and blueprints, all bearing a familiar ghost-shaped watermark.

"New project?"

"Sort of..." The teen lifted a stack of pages. "I was thinking it might be a good idea to build a ghost sensor. Like a warning system – in case anything comes too close."

"Sounds like a plan," the acrobat studied the diagram. Defence against spectral entities was high on their priority list. Shields were the most obvious solution but large-scale ecto-outputs apparently had a very distinctive signature. A new system coming online was almost guaranteed to catch the ear of every hunter in range. On the other hand, detectors and tracers were supposed to register on the same scale as everyday tech' and, with a little tweaking, might be able to pass as standard surveillance equipment. The advanced notice would be a huge advantage – possibly their biggest until they found a way to silence the footprint from larger devices.

"Yeah, but..." Danny frowned, tapping a pencil on the sheet in front of him.

"Problem?"

He sighed, rubbing the edge of his jaw. "More of a pain really. It was designed to go off whenever it detected any ghostly energy. Doesn't matter if it's Pariah Dark, the Box Ghost..." he rolled his eyes, "this thing could go panic stations over an ectopus."

"And you, I'm guessing."

The halfa made a face as he nodded. "Not when I'm human – so I guess whatever's up there doesn't hate me completely – but yeah, I'm not getting anywhere near this in ghost-mode. Even using my powers too much can trigger it."

"Figure that one out the hard way?" the acrobat raised an all-too-innocent eyebrow.

"Let's just say it was a good thing my parents had a symposium that weekend." Dick snickered quietly. The answering grin froze on Danny's face, gaze losing focus slightly as his hand stopped over the Fenton Works logo.

"So, is there a fix?" the bird cut in, hoping to draw the teen out of whatever memory he'd fallen into. He could guess where it would lead - neither of them needed to go there tonight.

"Maybe." It was with relief that he watched the blue eyes clear. Danny pulled out two more schematics, lining them up with the first. "This," he traced the lines on one diagram, "was meant to measure how powerful a ghost's energy was, and this one," he moved to the other, "is supposed to record and remember their unique ecto-signature." The teen rubbed his neck thoughtfully. "Not sure if they ever actually used that..." he shook his head. "Anyway, if we can couple them up..."

"...we'll be able to tell how strong they are, if we've seen them before and whether they're a threat." Dick leaned forward, scanning the pages intently. The idea was definitely worth considering. 'Heavy on the aster...' and not just for them either. If Danny could get it to work...

"Basically yes," the older boy smiled at his enthusiasm. "And we should be able to set it to ignore me. Maybe even figure out a system for the others – a way to tell the friendly guys from the dangerous ones, something like that." He squinted at the writing on the blueprint, scribbling a few marks and a line of messy cursive underneath.

"Okay, I'm officially whelmed." The word earned him a look of resigned amusement. "Seriously though, this could be big. You should run it by B' next time you see him. Oh come on," the bird grinned at the uncertainty on teen's face, "he's not that scary." Having someone with first-hand knowledge was a significant asset, even if Batman didn't say so out loud. Ecto-technology was complex and, while they probably could have figured it out on their own, it would have taken years to handle it with the same born-and-bred familiarity that Danny did. The halfa gave a small cough, rolling his shoulders as he turned away from the table.

"So... what's new with you?"

"Not much," the acrobat shrugged. His current grounded status was making sure of that. "What about you? Have you," he lowered his voice, "made any progress?" Technically he wasn't supposed to ask. Robin had officially been taken off of all investigations and, after how badly he'd broken rule number one, it was best not to push his luck. Then again, it wasn't like he could be in any more trouble where Phantom's case was concerned.

"No," the halfa sighed tiredly. "Batman tried something with the... traffic cameras, I think. He got video from that day – you know, when I was being chased." Dick nodded. With the number of cameras being installed in public places he'd be more surprised if they didn't get a visual.

"Did you manage to...?"

Danny shook his head. "No dice. I mean, we've got the guy on tape but you can't really see his face. He's either not looking or the picture's bad and the stupid hat's in the way the rest of the time. Batman took some stills, so maybe he found something...? No idea what though. Apparently there are way too many brown-haired thirty-something-year-olds in the criminal underworld." He brushed a hand through his recently-cut fringe, looking almost as disappointed as the acrobat felt.

"Hey," Dick nudged the elder boy's arm, "don't sweat it. We'll find him, alright? We just need to look in other places." An absent nod was the only response. The bird trailed into silence, picking at the edge of the table as his eyes wandered the room.

"Are you settling in okay?" There hadn't been much of an attempt to personalise the space. No move to claim the area, nothing that gave a sense of the resident. Not that the Danny had brought a lot with him. Outside of a handful of chipped, well-travelled pieces of ghost hunting equipment and a bundle of taped-together flash drives containing what seemed like the entire digital history of Fenton Works, the boy's worldly possessions boiled down to a few sets of clothes, a blanket, the standard first-aid-come-survival kit and an odd collection of eclectic, somewhat random items that Dick guessed he kept for sentimental reasons. But despite several offers from himself and Alfred to help with decorating, the teen seemed content to leave the room just as plain as it had been before he arrived.

"Yeah. I'm... good." A strange, almost melancholic note belied the words. Danny glanced away from the questioning look, hand lifting to the back of his neck. He sighed apologetically, "It's just... it's weird, you know. Staying in one place. Not having to figure out where to go next..." He chuckled weakly, "Not like I didn't do that for fourteen years or anything. It's weird that it feels weird. Not having secrets..." His fingers rested on the desktop, eyes focussed on something far away. "I don't know, I guess I just... figured I'd always be running. Until they quit, or I ended up in the Ghost Zone with Dani or got... caught. But this? Here? Now? Everything..." the teen snorted suddenly, shaking his head. "Okay, I'm officially not making sense. I'll stop." He tucked his chin, peering sideways at the acrobat with a smile that was sheepish and more than slightly embarrassed.

Dick nodded, pretending not to notice the moment of near-vulnerability. Much as the teen's appearance had improved, the half-guarded look was all too familiar. Though he didn't need to think very hard to understand the cause. Life at the manor could take a bit of getting used to. He wouldn't exactly call it the epitome of a warm family home. And even if it had been... things weren't going to magically fix themselves overnight. As much as they trusted each other to have their back, as far as he could search through the records, the facts didn't change. A month ago they had barely known the other existed. A fortnight ago they had been potential threats, a witness and his pursuers. A week ago they were strangers. In a lot of ways they still were. It wasn't really surprising that Danny chose to keep a comfortable distance; that he'd hold his problems close to his chest. There were certainly things from his own past that Dick wasn't lining up to share yet. So when a small voice urged him to push for details he squashed it. It went against his instinct but right now chasing answers was the worst thing he could do.

"No, I get it. It can be... strange" He kept his gaze fixed on the blueprints, feeling the teen shuffle beside him. "All very new and intimidating..." With an impish glance the bird changed tack, "A billionaire and a gypsy - not exactly what you were expecting, huh?" A startled cough cracked the gloom. Dick's grin broadened, giving Danny's shoulder a playful push as he continued, "No skulls, no crypts, no blood sacrifices - you must be so disappointed." The older boy rolled his eyes, victory flaring as a snicker slipped past his guard. The acrobat's tone softened slightly, "You'll get used to it, I promise." He leaned his weight into the bench, moving away from sore subjects with a speculative look. "You know..." he tapped his chin in mock-contemplation, "a little bird told me that B's going to be away on business for the next few days. And the makers of Doomed released a new game last month..."

"Whatever it is that you're planning Master Dick, I would advise waiting until you're more firmly in his good graces." Subtle tension rippled through the half-ghost as both boys turned to face the door. Dick offered a small smile, the silhouette resolving itself into the efficiently genteel grace of an Englishman.

"Hi Alfred." A second, quieter greeting sounded from the teen beside him.

"Good evening young sirs."

The acrobat titled his head, "Is everything alright?" While it normal for the butler to be up just as late - if not later - than they were, he rarely chose to seek them out once they were in their rooms. Unless there was a problem. He knew he shouldn't, but Dick would be lying to say a small part of him didn't hope it signalled some serious Batman-related issue for which Robin's presence would be urgently required.

"Everything's fine sir." From the glimmer in Alfred's eye, the Englishman knew exactly where his thoughts had been. "I simply happened to notice that your room was empty," he watched the pair with fond sternness, "and wondered if I might find you here." If the butler had heard their previous conversation he gave no sign of it.

The bird shrugged it away, "What else is there to do at night?"

An eyebrow was elegantly raised. "Many would consider sleep an ideal pastime at this hour. Speaking of which," Alfred coughed lightly, gaze turning vaguely pointed, "it is quite late and need I remind you that you do have school in the morning." Dick dipped his head, conceding with a silent sigh. Sadly that 'duty' did not fall onto his list of restricted activities. "And while Master Daniel cannot attend with you he does have his own studies to keep up." The acrobat kept his eyes forward, holding back a sympathetic grimace as red tinged the halfa's ears. Danny's education - or nearly two year lack thereof - was a slight point of shame for the older boy. Although, in Dick's opinion, the ghost had a fairly solid excuse for his lack of classwork. Himself on the other hand...

"I guess you're right," he stretched, raising his arms. "It's hard enough to stay awake in calculus on a good day."

"Indeed." The eyebrow climbed higher. The Englishman paused, drawing a pocket watch from his vest. He consulted it briefly. "If I'm not mistaken, Master Bruce should be finishing his 'errands' within the next hour or two. I believe it would help your case if you were to be seen at least attempting some rest before then."

"Mmm. Point." Tempting though it might be, he knew haunting the study clock for his guardian's return wasn't going to work. No amount of wheedling or bribery would get him back onto cases before his 'sentence' had been served. Besides, if Bats wasn't going to be back for another two hours... he might be awake now but being found asleep on the desk probably wouldn't help the 'responsible partner' argument. His nose itched as if to support the statement, a small yawn working its way past his hand. Alfred afforded him a wry glance, amusement playing about the butler's mouth as his attention shifted to the older boy.

"Master Daniel?" Dick noticed the faint softening of his voice, the familiar tone calling back to his first few weeks in the manor. Strange nostalgia swept his thoughts as the halfa straightened to watch the butler with polite curiosity. "I was planning to bring it up over breakfast, but on the off-chance... As you know, Master Bruce has been called to deal with a... rather unavoidable situation at one of his companies. He's scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow."

A careful nod. "I know." Faint anxiety touched the teen's face, Danny seeming to hesitate before asking, "Is my... Is there going to be a problem?"

"Not at all," the Englishman raised a reassuring hand. "However preparations may keep us quite busy. I expect it won't be necessary, but would you be willing to continue your work unsupervised if needed?"

"Oh," the teen blinked, expression clearing. "Yeah. Sure. Of course."

"Very good sir." Alfred twinkled kindly at him. "If there's anything you need...?"

Dick glanced up at his companion, noting the slight, shy smile as Danny shook his head. "I think we're good. Thanks Alfred."

"Then, I suppose I shall see you both in the morning." Perhaps it was his imagination, but the acrobat could have sworn he heard a mild warning directed his way. 'Note to self - make sure alarm clock is set.' "Goodnight sirs."

"Goodnight Alfred."

"'Night."

Both teens were silent for a moment, listening to the footsteps that faded down the hall. Out of sheer habit the bird darted to the door, peering in the direction the Englishman had vanished. How Alfred managed to move so quickly and quietly without running was a mystery that had remained unsolved for the last five years. And probably always would. Paper rustled, drawing his attention back to the desk. Danny was rolling up the blueprints, building a pile at one end of the table. A second yawn fought for escape as he watched the halfa gather the rest of the pages into stacks. Bed suddenly looked a lot more appealing.

"I should probably head off."

The older boy sighed, dropping the last of his work onto the mound. "Yeah, probably." He ruffled his hair, glancing at the acrobat with crooked smirk. "Wouldn't want you to miss school or anything."

"That would be tragic," Dick grinned right back. Classes could be a bit of a drag - at least compared to doing the applied versions under gunfire - but there were a lot of reasons to like Gotham Academy. Babs and Artemis to name two, even if the latter was still unaware of his 'connections'. Though in some ways that made it more fun. "See you in the morning?"

"'Night dude."

Light followed the bird on his way, shrinking to a thin shaft that flickered out as he padded down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder, oddly aware of the person moving to sleep in the room behind him. Having someone else in the loop was... different. Strange and new and not altogether unpleasant. It was still early days, risks to be taken, prices to be paid but he was surprised by how much he was actually enjoying it. Then again, it had been much the same when he first met Wally. And later Kaldur and Roy, founding the team, meeting Artemis, Raquel, Zatanna... who knew, this might just work out. And the rest - well he could figure that out tomorrow.

Change was one of life's constants, right?

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Roads to Safe Places

He hesitated, handle cool against his skin as he closed the door. The night air swirled beneath his hood, tugging at his hair as he stared up at the building that had been the centre of his life. The bricks were dull in the moonlight, windows dark and empty. The Ops Centre perched on the roof, geometric, majestic in a whimsical ridiculousness that belied the reinforced steel and advanced weapons tech within. The start and end of so many misadventures. Creaks sounded from the orange and green arrow as it swayed in the gentle breeze, devoid of the neon light that had illuminated the town for almost as long as he could remember. It hung in darkness now. Just as it had for the last week. Ever since... He turned the key in the lock, eyes clinging to the scene like a drowning man to a plank of wood.

An invisible hand tugged at his sleeve.

" Come on dude," his best friend's voice was a murmur in the silence, "we've gotta go."

He nodded, the gesture going unseen as he adjusted his grip on Tucker's wrist, wrapping his powers more firmly around them. They moved to join a patch of empty air by the gate, the others entering their awareness as his influence melded with Dani's.

" Is everyone ready? Got all the things you wanted? Have your ticket?" Jazz checked for the final time, receiving whispers of assent. "And... are we sure?" Her answer came in frightened eyes and nervous pauses.

" Okay... then, let's go."

They set off through the sleeping town, keeping to the shadows and alleyways, hands linked to share the protection of invisibility. Eyes darted to every corner, twitched at every movement. Danger lurked at the margins, breathing with small gusts that broke the stillness of the night. No words were spoken until they reached their destination. Far on the outskirts, at the edge of the highway, under the grimy light that announced the small bus stop. Their way out.

Tucker swallowed nervously as they flickered back into sight beneath the sign, pulling a small device from a pocket. It changed hands, green button accusatory under the dim light of the stars. He shivered, feeling the weight of the metal in his palm. The weight of the choice they were about to make, the terrible sacrifice needed for the plan to work. His thumb hovered over the circle. He looked to the eyes of his friends. Buried deep within hoods and behind dark glasses. Jazz's distinctive red hair tucked out of sight beneath her beanie. She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his, sharing in the responsibility. Sam, Tucker and Dani hesitantly joined them. As one they paused. Breathed in. Breathed out. Pressed down.

Even from far away they could hear the sound. Feel the shockwave that rumbled through the night, rousing the citizens of Amity Park from the depths of sleep. Voices began to drift on the winds, faint cries of alarm and panic reaching their ears. It was time to leave.

Twin lamps pierced the gloom as the bus arrived at the station. He shouldered his bags, refusing to look as he climbed aboard, presenting his ticket with the others. They pulled smoothly away, wheels carrying them into the unknown. He glanced out the window, the city already reduced to a shrinking silhouette on the horizon. Then it was gone, swallowed by the darkness of the night.

There was no turning back.

Blue eyes fluttered. He shifted against the weight of the vision, reality threading through the veil of dreams and memory, reeling him in by inches. For a moment rough cloth chafed his back, swaying and bumping with the curves of the road... no, wait. He was lying down, surrounded by softness. In bed. A motel? Probably not; it felt too comfortable, too familiar for that. So then... where? He struggled to focus, blinking through the images of slick, winding pavement. The ceiling was dark and dim, empty of his constellations, his hanging models and posters and... too high somehow? He pushed himself blearily onto an elbow, trying to make sense of the rest of the room. Again, bigger than expected, oddly familiar. Moonlight peered weakly through a curtained window, throwing just enough brightness to make out the shape of a shelf, something that was probably a wardrobe, a couple of dark pieces hanging on the walls and... a desk maybe? He shook his head, forcing his befuddled brain into gear. The where was sitting just out of reach, but maybe if he could work out how... A ghost. There'd been a ghost attack. People in danger and after that he'd run and... there'd been a locker. Someone had found him. No, not someone - Batman. Batman and Robin. Robin who was Dick and... Bruce...

Wayne Manor. He was in Wayne Manor. Amity Park was months and miles away.

Danny flopped back onto the mattress, ruffling his hair as he tried to rub the old ache away. Past and present had separated themselves but the memory burned, dredged up by his subconscious and shunted to the forefront of his mind. For a while he stared at the shadows, picking abstract shapes from the dark, before rolling onto his side, eyes closing in the hope of falling into better dreams. A black, moonlit highway rose to meet him. He jerked away, pulling the sheets higher as he turned over. A locked front door loomed over a once-known town. The halfa groaned, ducking under the covers to bury his face in the pillow. Wheels, alleyways, a pull towards a place that no longer existed. Like a train arriving at the station the vision rolled in, dragging with it a string of other moments, voices, people, places, old fears and gut-twisting worries he'd tried hard to leave on the road. Every bump and fold in the mattress amplified excruciatingly. He sighed in defeat, kicking off the blankets. Sleep was clearly a dead loss.

The half-ghost allowed his feet to hit the floor, padding across to the window. Fabric weighed against his back as he ducked under the drapes to peer outside. A dusting of snow lay over the secluded corner of the grounds, painted charcoal by the night. It had to be late. He slid back into the room, squinting at the hands of the clock. Correction - early. Sometime between three and four a.m. if he was reading it right. Late enough that everyone should be asleep, too soon to get up for training. He grumbled softly, unease driving him back to the other wall. Agitation curled in his gut, the memory refusing to leave his mind. 'Who's, 'why's and 'what if's prickled through his chest. He paced a circuit of the room. Then another. And another. The space seemed to shrink around him.

Carpet rustled underfoot at his abrupt stop, kneading his eyes with the heels of his hands. He dragged fingers resignedly through his fringe, resting his forehead on the wood of the door before twisting the handle, suddenly desperate to be out of the room. Eerie silence met him in the hall, quiet stillness rising from the length of dark corridor. He hesitated on the threshold, eyes flicking back inside before stepping out, shaking his head with a small sardonic noise. A dull hollowness gently squeezed his chest as crept down the passage. His throat was oddly tight. He felt... he wasn't really sure how he felt. He just... needed some air. Some water would probably help as well.

Ceilings arched high overhead as he stopped at a junction. Unbidden, his gaze drifted down another path, struck by an unexpected urge to talk to someone. But who? Alfred had enough to deal with. Dick would be asleep. And Bruce... he definitely didn't want to disturb Mr Wayne at this time of night. Besides, it was a just dream. A dream of a memory maybe, but he could handle it. They didn't need to hear it, didn't need to be woken up over something that couldn't be changed. He was almost sixteen; he should be able to handle a nightmare on his own.

The halfa shook his head again, setting his feet down their original course. Ornate wallpaper followed him on his way, past elaborate mouldings, antique oak pillars, intricate gas-lamps fitted with electric bulbs - all probably as old as the building itself even if they looked brand new. The occasional passageway broke the walls, heading off to parts unknown. He ignored them, resisting the faint temptation to distract himself with exploring. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to - Dick had already pulled him along on several 'expeditions' and Alfred said he was free to go where he liked - but the manor was so big. Twisting warrens of halls and service corridors, locked and unlocked doors, concealed entrances... his old house ten times over with room left for the neighbours'. A wrong turn here could mean hours of getting lost. And anyway...

The hall widened ahead of him, opening onto one of the mansion's sweeping staircases. Above a chandelier swung from the roof, crystals hanging like shards of ice. Danny shivered, crossing his arms against a chill that had little to do with the snow outside. He could feel himself shrink, reduced to a child by the sheer immenseness of the space. It dwarfed him with its size. The familiar ache returned as he stole down the steps, barefoot, clad in the long grey shirt and sweats that served as pyjamas. Everything here was too big for him - the manor, Gotham City, Batman and Robin, top-tier heroes... Sure, maybe back in Amity he'd been something special. Or at least, half of him might have been. But if months on the road had shown him anything it was that, in the eyes of the world, Amity Park was just another small, no-name town. Just like he was. Small-town. One foot in front of the other, three-bedroom houses and cramped, dingy motels. His 'everything' barely made the map. And-

He was being ungrateful he supposed. They could have just as easily passed him by. Put him into some form of protection, pushed him off into someone else's custody - or simply turned and left once they had their answers. But despite everything, the hassles he put them through, the obvious dangers... they'd invited him to stay. Offered him a place to live, clean clothes, the closest thing to safety he could get within four walls... had wanted to help, even with the risk to themselves. And... His lips twitched into something that on a better day might have been a smile. It had taken a while to notice. There was always an excuse; being bored, wanting to discuss homework, having news to share, there just-so-happening to be something that needed sorting or fixing or cleaning - somehow Dick and Alfred always managed to find reasons to be where he was. It had irked him at first - he knew the rules, knew how to take care of himself - until he realised what they were doing. Not supervising, not pushing at all, just... being there. Very subtly, very determinedly not leaving him on his own. And he appreciated it.

Even if it... wasn't... the same as...

'Cut it out Fenton.' The halfa jerked his chin sharply, hooking fingers into the fabric of his sleeves. He shouldn't feel this way, didn't need to feel this way. Not now. Not after so long.

But still...

Winter lingered underfoot as he slipped into the smooth, cool tiling of the kitchen. Light stabbed his eyes, pale blades streaming through the spotless windows, turning the room to a landscape of abstract blacks and greys. He paused, unwilling to fumble blindly through the dark but instinctively reluctant to turn on the light. It didn't make sense of course - the building was too large, rooms to far away from each other or the outside world to disturb anyone. Still... the hybrid sighed, reaching internally for the icy point beside his heart. Prickling cold surged through his veins, freezing his eyes as a familiar green-tinted glow lifted the shadows. Feet were placed carefully, tracing a cautious path around the benches. Glass clinked in his hands, ears distantly registering the hiss of the tap as water swirled to fill a cup. He shut it off, carrying his prize over to the stools by the island counter. The room faded, night rushing to reclaim the space as he released his hold on the ectoplasm. Liquid rippled in the glass. He raised it to his mouth. Tightness seemed to swell in his throat; pushing back against the water instead of being washed away. His lungs clenched. Danny exhaled, cradling the drink with both hands as a thumb absently traced the rim. Dull pressure crept along his jaw, spreading upward to his temples. Why? Why now? Why did it have to happen tonight, just when he thought...

Although it wasn't really that surprising. The date, the dream. He knew. He'd kept count - of course he had, it was all but habit by now. The clock had been running down for days, stewing at the back of his mind, jabbing his thoughts... setting him on edge, no matter how many times he assured Dick that it was nothing. That he told himself it was fine. Day fourteen. His two-week limit. The limit that he absolutely did not cross, that, until a few weeks ago, he'd never let himself cross. The point which meant either capture or committing to a place. He'd known it was coming. Their offer had been long-term after all, a permanent change, not just a pit-stop on the road. He'd acknowledged that, had accepted those terms when he'd chosen to come with them. But still, the difference between knowing and doing, between thinking about something and actually being there, living it... yet here he was, no routes planned, no new destination lined up, no contingencies. He lifted the cup again, water lapping up to the rim, an audible clack echoing as the base connected with the benchtop. Shoulders hunched, chewing his lower lip as a hand lifted to rub his face. So he was staying then? Was really going to take that risk? To hold his ground? Actually let himself settle? And if he did, could he ever... could he bring himself to call another place...

It was controlled chaos, the kind that made no sense to outsiders but had an underlying pattern, predictable because he'd spent his whole life surrounded by it. The walls were closer, the finishes cheaper, a not-quite-clutter always hanging around the edges... but comfortable, never cramped. There was the cool smell of metal, mixing with harsh tangs of ectoplasm and clinical detergents, the cloying sweetness of fudge, slightly-burned pancakes and the mustiness of old book pages. The loudness of four voices talking over each other, competing against the buzz of random inventions, psychology, core stabilisation, particle electronics, biology, English assignments, upgrades to the Fenton-thermos and blathering on about ghosts. The closeness of familiar hands, the distance that came from well-kept secrets.

He wanted to go back.

'Stop it.' Glass creaked against his fingers as the halfa clenched his teeth. That was enough. He'd known the cost of their choice when they'd made it. They all had. A one-way trip. It was always going to be. They'd talked about it for days, weighing all the possibilities, as many alternatives as they could think of. In the end they'd all agreed; a decision that wasn't really a decision. And if there were regrets now, well he just had to live with that. But pining over what had been... was stupid. Wouldn't bring it back. Couldn't fix things. Useless. Pointless. A colossal waste of everyone's time. He shouldn't-

"Master Daniel?"

It took all Danny's focus not to turn invisible then and there. As it was he twitched violently, hand slipping through the glass, nearly upsetting the chair as he twisted to face the door. The intruder seemed just as surprised - frozen, tray-in-hand with one foot over the threshold.

They stared at each other.

"Oh." Heat rushed to the halfa's ears. "Hi Alfred." He managed a strained smile, suddenly painfully aware of his crude defensive stance. With an awkward cough he forced himself back onto the stool. "Um, what..." Guilty thoughts flickered back to the trip along the corridors. "I didn't disturb you, did I?"

"Not at all sir." Belatedly he noticed the older man's crisp suit and polished shoes. One thing less to worry about. As for why he was sitting alone in a darkened room... somehow Alfred seemed to understand. Or at very least the butler chose not to question it, leaving the switch untouched as he stepped into the space with an ease that spoke of decades of practice. The tray's contents tinkled as they were set down by the sink. "An alarm needed resetting and I happened to find myself in the mood for refreshment. Although," he half-turned from the counter, "I must say I wasn't expecting company." The underlying question went politely unsaid. Danny shifted under the concerned gaze, eyes dropping to the glass in his hands. A moment passed in uncomfortable silence before the butler sighed, turning back to face the windows. "It would appear that the weatherman was right," he mused, staring out into the night, "The snow does seem to be blowing over." A glance came carefully over his shoulder, "I for one am looking forward to the start of spring. It will be good to see some clear days."

"Mm," the halfa nodded, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed by the Englishman's reaction. Emptiness rose again, tugging his eyes back to the older man. Alfred watched in return, expression unreadable before shifting, moving down the bench to a shadowed niche in the cupboards. Hinges squeaked almost imperceptibly, the faint chime of porcelain and tiny shifts in the dark betraying the elder man's motions.

A voice drifted back along the counters. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Danny shook his head. "I'm fine." There was still water in the glass and with the... way things were, anything else seemed like a bad idea. A pause followed before the voice returned; this time quieter, more measured.

"Are you really sir?" He knew Alfred wasn't asking about food.

"It's nothing."

Shadows made it difficult to see for sure, but something told him that the Englishman was looking his way. He ducked his chin, refocussing on his hands. "It must be a particularly strong brand of 'nothing'," the butler probed gently, "to have you wandering the halls at the witching hour."

He honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

For a while it was quiet, broken only by soft rustling and clinks from deeper in the kitchen. A spoon clattered against the countertop. Steam rushed with the bubbling of a kettle. Danny lifted the cup again, resisting the urge to glance into the dark. Waves rolled through the last of the water as he set it down, tilting the glass back and forward on its edge before draining it completely. It twisted in his hands as he lowered it, making a study of his fingers. A thin white line sliced through one of his knuckles. He frowned, unable to remember what had caused it. Odds were it was something ghost related, but even then... ever since he'd received his powers he'd healed fast. An ironic benefit of being half dead; most injuries wouldn't leave a mark unless severe or caused by specialised equipment. 'Or both.' An old throb pulsed down his collarbone. He pushed back a shiver, focusing on the faint, pale cut. His small handful of scars were memorable for exactly that reason. This one though... Movement jolted Danny back to the present, attention snapping upwards as a teacup was set down on the opposite site of the bench. Alfred settled on the stool, sliding a second cup and a smile across the table. The halfa accepted it gingerly, tugging the saucer towards him with a mumbled thanks. Steam rose from the surface in weird patterns, kind grey eyes surveying him through the tendrils of vapour. An unexpected lump formed in his throat. He looked away.

"Master Daniel?" Blue eyes peeked cautiously through the halfa's fringe, biting his lip as he forced himself to meet the butler's gaze. A look of steady calm answered, the same not-quite-questioning concern. Words rested on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them back, breaking contact with a tiny shake of the head.

It wasn't worth talking about.

Cloth rustled as the elder man leaned forward. "If I may," the dryness of his tone surprised him, "I find that hiding alone in the dark is rarely an effective way to solve the problem at hand - no matter what other members of this household might have you believe." Danny couldn't quite help the small snort that escaped. Amusement flickered across the Englishman's face, an eyebrow arching with something that, in anyone else, might have been mischief. His own mouth twitched reluctantly in answer.

"I couldn't sleep."

"I believe I've already deduced that sir," Alfred replied lightly. The smile faded, "Could I ask why?"

A lot of reasons. Feelings, thoughts, habits. Memories. "I... It was a dream." The simplest answer was the easiest one.

"'To sleep perchance'..." Sympathy laced the musing. A delicate pause followed. "Might I ask what of?"

That was the question. Danny wrapped his hands around the teacup. Hollowness crept back in, dragging guilt along with it. He didn't want to lie to the butler, but saying it just felt so... ungrateful. They'd taken him in from nothing. From pointless flight between cities, progress in inches if any at all. How else could it sound after that? At best the older man would be insulted. At worst...

"...Of the night we left. You know," the halfa kept his eyes on the table, looking everywhere except the butler, "Amity."

"Ah." Alfred's voice was almost too understanding. Danny flashed him an apologetic glance, relieved when the Englishman didn't seem too offended. More... expectant, really. Like he was waiting for something else. Heat prickled through the china to the halfa's palms. He lifted the cup mechanically, taking a mouthful to avoid having to continue. An attempt to delay the inevitable conversation. Warmth trickled into his chest.

"Is it really okay for me to be here?" The words were out before the young ghost really knew what he was saying.

Concern sharpened into something more serious. "Of course it is." Alfred frowned, gaze suddenly piercing. "Whatever would make you think otherwise?"

"Um," he winced, scrambling for the right answer, "it's - it's not that I'm not grateful. I appreciate all of this, really, I do - it's just..." What was he meant to say? Uncertainty hung in the air, echoing back from a space that seemed much larger than it was supposed to be. Past, present, questions about the future... it was all a mess, jumbling together, disconnected, alien and uncomfortably real. Where would he even start? The memory? The dream? The road, the accident, the incident, his time alone, Dani? The sense that he should still be out there, hanging on instead of moving forward, instead of turning the page like he knew he should. "It's a lot of risk to all of you." It wasn't a lie. But it was only a small part of the truth.

The butler was silent for a moment. "I suppose there is something to that. However," he straightened, fixing the halfa with a look equal parts solemn and sincere, "you must understand that - while undoubtedly perilous for a small group or individual alone - a situation such as yours is something we are well-prepared for. I know it may seem an odd comfort, but we are no strangers to threat - whether through Master Bruce's public position or his... other hobbies. Great pains have been taken to ensure that the manor and its," Alfred paused, "basement are protected, against both physical encroachment and even the most persistent of searchers." On that point Danny could only agree. One of the earliest parts of his arrival had been a security briefing. Batman style. Everything from the defence system, secret passages between the manor and the cave, hidden escape routes, protocols to ensure that neither Fenton nor Phantom would be exposed should either location be compromised... "As you know," he looked up as the elder man continued, "our plans and systems are regularly updated in order to stay ahead of new developments. It was little trouble to include a few additional pieces for your benefit."

"I guess..." It wasn't as though he could argue with that. Or that he really wanted to. Equipment, experience, a public presence... Bruce, Dick and Alfred were undeniably better able to handle things. Too many safeguards for anyone to get past easily. Too well-known to just 'disappear' without notice. That much he could believe. "It just seems like a lot." What was difficult was the idea that he could somehow fit in to that picture - to a place with some of the best protection in existence, where upgrading a multi-thousand-dollar security system in less than a week was 'little trouble'. "I mean, you have enough to deal with without..." the halfa flicked a hand in an explanatory gesture. "And I'm not," he snorted humourlessly, "you know. I'm just me."

Alfred regarded him curiously, eyebrows lifting over a bemused expression. "Well, considering it was your intervention that spared Master Dick and his companions from what, by all accounts, would have been an unpleasant fate - not to mention the information you've given Master Bruce regarding your ecto-technology..." He smiled, "I'd say a safe space to continue seems fair repayment."

"That-" The halfa could feel his neck burning, "that was nothing." He squirmed, scratching the affected area as heat inched towards his ears. "I mean..." Of course he was going to give them ecto-tech. Blueprints, research papers, discs of Tucker's programs, lists of the ghosts he'd faced... information was what they needed, and they could make much better use of it than him. Besides, wasn't that his side of the deal? Information? The proposal went both ways after all. Pretty much the only thing he could contribute. And considering what he'd got in return... he was the one who owed them. Not the other way around. Even if he had 'helped' Robin in Portland. That whole situation... he really wished Dick and Alfred would stop treating what happened like it had been some act of calculated heroism. He'd hardly even had a plan; find the ghost, hope whoever it was was friendly enough or smart enough to have news, kick anything dangerous into the thermos before it could cause trouble. That was it. Do the job, try to stay hidden, don't expect anything in return. Once it was Spectra... exposure risk or not, there was no way he could leave someone like that. He certainly hadn't been trying to earn points. Their costumes, what they meant - exactly who he'd shaken hands with hadn't fully sunk in until later. And sure, maybe he'd expected they would investigate - and maybe it was part of why he'd run - but he definitely hadn't expected that they'd care enough to bother tracking him down in person. Let alone what came after. That he'd be trusted with secrets, offered a place in their home...

He wasn't sure what his face looked like but Alfred seemed to see something in it.

"You know, sir," the Englishman's voice turned shrewd, "while admirable, I find it hard to believe that concern for our safety was enough to prompt tonight's venture. Or your own, for that matter." Alfred set down his cup, pinning the halfa with a steady gaze. "I understand that you may not wish to talk about it, but I feel something else is weighing on your mind. Or," he carefully scrutinised his face, "perhaps somewhere?"

A shiver arrived. It crawled through Danny's shoulders, wrapping fingers around his lungs as his stomach twisted. Guilty sickness churned, rising to a throat that was too hot and tight for the for the one-and-a-half cups in front of him. Stupid really, attempting to hide anything from anyone in this house. He managed a small, stiff nod in answer.

"I take it then, that the nature of your dream...?" Danny blinked in surprise. He'd expected a reprimand. Well, not exactly - it was Alfred after all - but some kind of judgement. A small frown, a note of disapproval. But no. It was... a little unsettling actually, to be met with the same patient sympathy as before. The halfa locked his fingers together slowly, weighing his options. Whether to respond. What to say. Politeness. Pride. The voice of hard-earned pragmatism or the familiar ache of old advice.

He closed his eyes.

"I miss it." Part of him hated the words, hated himself for the confession. "And I know that sounds ungrateful and I know I shouldn't but... sometimes I wish I could..." pain shook the halfa back to reality, "but I can't and then everything's different, and it's all happening so fast and I don't-" He shrugged helplessly. "I guess I don't know anymore."

Silence was deafening. It echoed around the room, deep, and brittle. Itchingly uncomfortable. Danny kept his eyes fixed firmly on the stone countertop, ears stinging in the wake of the outburst. Already it felt embarrassing. Weak. The pathetic breakdown of a kid spooked by a nightmare. He shrank slightly, wishing he could vanish under the weight of the piercing stare. He wanted to fall through the floor. If it had been anyone else - anywhere else – he might have given in to temptation, used his powers to do just that. A few agonisingly long seconds passed before he felt the stare lessen. There was the clink of a cup against a saucer, the gentle scrape of china being pushed to one side. He felt rather than saw the butler lean forward, the folding of hands on the benchtop. A moment of heavy, wordless consideration. What followed was softer, less reserved than before.

"Change can be hard Master Daniel. This house has seen its share and, even if they seem simple, such transitions always come with a period of adjustment. And after where you've been..." he heard the older man shift, "considering the circumstances I'd think it quite natural for you to have some difficulty settling. It was hardly a small step." The young ghost gave a lifeless nod, suddenly very interested in a crease near his sleeve. It was an argument he knew too well. One of Jazz's 'go-to's whenever things got tough on the road. Maybe it had been true at the start but it was old now. Leaving things behind, starting over... that was normal. He was used to it. Prepared. Or, at least, he thought. "But," Alfred was speaking again, "I hope you understand that we do not expect you to abandon yourself by being here. It's true that our... secrets make distance somewhat necessary, but who you are and what you've done is just as important as anything you may do now." He paused. "Obviously, there are a few rules to keep, but choosing to be part of this life does not mean signing our own away entirely. Master Dick keeps track of his circus. Master Bruce still communicates with certain childhood friends."

"And you?" Danny braved a look upwards.

Alfred smiled. "Outside of Master Bruce's circle? A few relatives in London. Though I would not say we are close." Knuckles tapped against the counter as the Englishman's mouth pulled into a pensive line. "In any case sir, what I mean to say is; please do not feel that you would be leaving anything - or anyone - behind by being here. And-" his voice was carefully gentle, "if you'll forgive my saying so - somehow I doubt that your family would resent your accepting outside help if they could not provide it themselves. It's not a crime to seek companionship. We certainly would not be so arrogant as to attempt to replace them."

His throat closed again. The halfa swallowed, faint shake suddenly loud in each breath. Something lingered in the air; painful in an oddly comforting way, sharp and delicate as glass.

"Now," the butler's words moved through the space without breaking it, "as for being a burden. As you know sir, the Manor was built to house more than a dozen. With his company, Master Bruce could undoubtedly fund several times more. A single new resident is hardly a strain on our resources." There was a long-suffering sigh, "Especially when you consider what our other housemates routinely manage to get themselves up to." The sheer resigned pride in his voice drew a weak chuckle from the hybrid. Alfred hummed quietly. "Besides… as you may have noticed, our duo is extremely resourceful. Had Master Bruce - or Master Dick for that matter - felt unwilling, or unable, to have you in our home then they would have devised an alternative." A lined, wise hand caught his wrist, grey eyes meeting blue with a soft smile. "The very fact that you are here shows that they wanted you to be. You needn't doubt that."

Breathing suddenly became a lot harder.

With a gentle squeeze the hand withdrew. "I know it may seem difficult. I dare say impossible at times but, in the words of Frost; life goes on. Even when we feel it perhaps should not." The older man watched him kindly. "I – we – hope that you would one day be able to consider this home; but only once and if you feel it is right. When that time comes – and even if it doesn't – we will be here. Until then… Sometimes it is enough to just make of things what you can. And trust that they will get better with time. Though," his eyes twinkled, "perhaps not always without effort."

Silence reigned as Alfred settled onto his chair, pulling the saucer back in front of him. Nothing more was said; the butler seemed content to sit in peace, finishing his tea as the halfa slowly collected himself. Danny rubbed the circles beneath his eyes, handling each word carefully as they shifted into place around him. There was a steadying, a gradual uncurling of the lungs, settling into the space, the cold tiles and not-quite-familiar rooms. The weight in his chest seemed lighter. Not gone by any means, but lessened - manageable rather than the near-crushing heaviness of before. Even the quiet was still. Not heavy. Not awkward. He didn't feel any need to say something; to excuse himself from the room or gloss over it with small-talk. It was fine. Not comfortable – not yet – but enough. They could just sit. Listen. To the silence. To the creak of wind against the windows, the post-snowfall stillness that came with knowing everyone else was asleep. The faint sounds of breathing. He realised that he didn't mind the butler being there anywhere near as much as he'd thought.

Somewhere deep in the house a clock chimed the quarter hour.

"You know," with a sigh Alfred rose to his feet, "I believe it's high time I was heading back to bed." He lifted the crockery with one hand, offering the hybrid a questioning smile. "Would you like me to..?"

"Oh. Uh… Yeah." Danny quickly drained the end of his cup, sliding it across the bench. "Thanks." The last part didn't really cover it but he thought the older man understood anyway.

"Not at all." China rattled against the sink and the bubbling tap as the Englishman turned, stacking cups neatly away. Hands were dried before he turned back, gesturing to the door with the same grandfatherly concern. "Please, after you."

The walk back was… different. They took the same path he'd used to get there, retracing steps up the sweeping staircases, down corridors just as long with ceilings just as high. Still, something had changed. Alfred was a warm, unspeaking presence at his shoulder, an occasional comment when he was confused at junctions or close to taking a wrong turn. He was grateful for that – it gave him time to think, to sort out the mess inside his head. Perhaps it wasn't the place itself but the atmosphere. Before there had been a presence – hovering in the weight and sprawl of the walls, the vast, spotless grandeur, shadowy modern-gothic vibe and ornate furnishings. A place steeped in long bloodlines and old money, a social class so far above his that he shouldn't even set foot in it, let alone think of staying. Now… it was a house. An enormous, old, stupidly expensive house but still – just a house. It had its own brand of chaos, people living their lives, following their own – admittedly seriously abnormal – routines. Walls were walls, doors were doors, corridors took them places. And yes, it was still a mansion, and then there was the cave – that would never not be weird – but he could deal. After all, Dick came from a circus and he'd managed it just fine. Maybe there was hope for a ghost-kid too.

Maybe.

Given how long the first trip had seemed, the halfa was honestly surprised to find himself outside his own door. For a moment he continued, taking two steps past it before a gentle cough drew his attention. The butler was no longer at his side.

With an apologetic look he doubled back. "Sorry. I was just-"

"-lost in thought?" The older man's question was plain but he could hear the smile behind it. "Quite understandable I think." He studied him for a moment. "Will you be alright?"

"I - Yeah… Thank you." The halfa put as much sincerity as he could into the words.

Alfred's gaze was careful as he nodded. "If there's anything you need, sir – anything at all - please don't hesitate to ask."

He shook his head slightly, reaching for the handle. "I'll be okay."

The butler began to walk away.

"Um - Alfred?" Actually, there was one thing. He'd been meaning to ask for a while, but now… if he really was going to be staying… "It's, uh," he rubbed his neck sheepishly as the Englishman turned. "It's Danny, please. No-one actually uses my full name."

Alfred's smile broadened. "Of course." He got the feeling that the butler was considering something more. There was a thoughtful pause. "You know, given the circumstances I would not be surprised if your alarm somehow failed to work in the morning." An eyebrow arched at the halfa's incredulous look. His eyes danced. "Have a good night, sir. And please, do try to get some rest."

Danny bit back a grin. "Right. You too."

The first few quiet footsteps faded down the hall as he slipped back inside.

It was pitch black – he hadn't bothered to turn the lights on before leaving – but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted enough to move safely. Reaching the bed, he flicked on the lamp, watching the warm yellow light it threw across the room. He flopped onto the edge of the mattress, considering the butler's suggestion before pushing himself upright to hit the mute button on the clock. For a while he sat, eyes roaming the blank, papered walls, the rows of empty shelves. On sudden impulse he rolled over, stomach pressing into the covers as he searched under the bed, fumbling for a travelsack that had remained half-packed despite the offers of help. The halfa reached inside, feeling his way past the ear of a stuffed bear, the corner of a PDA, cardboard tubes and other trinkets he wasn't ready to handle until his fingers closed on the cool metal curve he sought. He eased it free, carefully closing and stowing the bag before pushing himself back up. Light caught the strange metal boomerang as he turned it over, running a thumb over the familiar plate-work, the raised silver 'F' pressed into the centre of a small green ghost. With a click it hummed into life, a tiny light winking into being on the nose. Danny handled it a moment longer before standing, setting it gently in the centre of the shelf. He took a step back, appreciating the way the lamplight played on its surface, the small but significant change it made to the space. It felt more solid somehow; not quite home, but warm and present and real. He blinked, suddenly, peacefully tired. Alfred was right. The halfa crawled under the sheets, rolling to face the ornament as a hand reached up to switch off the light.

His eyes found its silhouette in the dark as he finally drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Second Impressions

"Will you relax already?"

The voice drifted upwards, echoing past the platforms. Soft chitters answered as it reached the roof, wings rustling as the cave's smaller residents fluttered away from the noise. The Boy Wonder beamed up at them, savouring the view through the mask.

It felt good. Even three days into patrols – mostly minor incidents, plus a slightly more major one that left Robin with bruised knuckles and Batman with a hole in his cape – the buzz refused to fade. Five weeks on the bench… he'd been all but crawling the walls by the time Bruce offered the suit and cape back. No amount of training or back-and-forward with Danny could compare to the feel of the streets. Not that he'd taken full advantage of his reinstated freedoms just yet. There were still a few more things to do. Places to go. People to see. Although what they'd think of his surprise… he stretched in anticipation, lacing hands behind his head with a sideways glance.

That same enthusiasm wasn't shared by his companion. Beside him Phantom shifted, eyeing the inactive Zeta tube with an expression that was far from turbed. Whether due to the transporter itself or where it would be taking them, Robin wasn't sure. A little from column A, a little from column B, he guessed; considering the ghost's history it wouldn't be a surprise if he took a while warming towards giant energy tunnels.

With a cough the spirit looked away, hand reaching to tug at a seam near his collar.

The Boy Wonder ran a critical eye over the stitching. "New suit's doing okay?"

The hand was deliberately lowered. "Uh… Yeah," Phantom ducked his head, flicking fingers through his fringe. "Yeah, it's fine. Just-"

"Itchy, right?" A faint grimace crossed the older boy's face. Robin nodded sympathetically, "Give it a couple more days." Even with non-stop wear it could take weeks before a uniform felt truly comfortable. Although in this case the discomfort was very necessary. Fenton jumpsuits might look similar enough to blend in but they'd clearly been designed for a different purpose. Ideally primed for field ectobiology and biohazards it might be, but against any normal weapon the original was about as protective as a wet napkin. The fact that Phantom needed to jury-rig straps for anything bigger than a wallet hadn't earned any points either. Sure, self-repairing ecto-fibres were a nice convenience but, after 2 years of growth and wear, they had been a sacrifice even Danny was willing to make.

Which couldn't be said for the other change.

Irritating as it was for their investigation, the Amity cover-up had done them at least one favour. In the eyes of the public ectoplasmic entities roomed comfortably between bigfoot and the jackalope. Phantom's powers might be distinctive for those who knew but, between Martians and the Green Lanterns, 'ghost' would hardly the first thought on the average civilian's mind. The Fenton's unexpectedly conservative suit style also played to their advantage. Which really only left one problem. The insignia. Everything else they could explain away, but the spirit's logo was unmistakably his. Large, distinctive, memorable - a practical homing beacon for anyone looking to confirm a sighting. A single photograph, an innocent comment from a bystander… Not to mention the obvious security risk. He may not use it anymore but the symbol - and outdated moniker it represented - were inescapably linked to Phantom's civilian identity. There weren't enough Daniels in the town's history to guarantee that someone else couldn't make the same logical leap Robin had.

Unfortunately, it was also the part Danny was most insistent on keeping. No matter how strong their counterarguments, no matter how well he understood their points, the condition remained. His old team's logo had to stay in some form or other. Finding an acceptable compromise had been a standoff worthy of their first nights in the lockup.

Phantom thumbed over the mark, glancing back towards the tube. He chewed his lip, brow furrowing as he turned to the Boy Wonder.

"Are you sure…?"

"P," Robin shot him a pointed look, "Seriously. Chill. You think Bats would okay this without clearing it first?"

White hair fluttered as the ghost exhaled. "I know, but-"

"-but nothing." The Bird cut him off, holding back a sigh. 'Buzzkill much?' Admittedly a justified buzzkill, but still… "Yes, it's a risk but we're prepared now. You've got the new suit - and yeah," he pre-empted the second frown, "it's a prototype but it's worked for all our sensors so far." Not perfectly, to be fair, but specially-tuned scanners at close range were a tough sell for any tech. There'd been no added interest in the Manor at least. "Besides," he offered the least impatient grin he could, "covert, remember? Avoiding the spotlight is kind of our whole deal. There's no way they'd be able to pick up anything inside the Mountain, and that's if they even knew where to look."

There was a pause. Phantom opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. "Yeah." His boot scuffed against the floor. "Okay. Yes. You're right." He rolled his shoulders, arms dropping loosely to his sides. "You're right." A smile was hoisted onto his face.

One that was nowhere near relaxed enough to be convincing.

This time the detective sighed for real. "What else can we do?" He raised a hand, ticking off points on his fingers. "Gordon's already circulating the stills." None of the video footage had been great but it was a better lead than they often had to offer the Commissioner. Especially combined with a description. If Batman's suspicions were correct, their man was probably a third-party mercenary; moving between contracts depending on whose dirty work needed doing. With luck one of his next clients would land him with the police.

A second finger. "We're following as many ecto-connections as we can." Once they got past the so-called 'spiritualists', 'cryptid experts' and wannabe ghost hunters, the field of ecto-biology was gratifyingly small. Their main problem was obscurity; not many companies - or individuals - wanted to admit involvement with something so thoroughly derided by the mainstream. Plenty of cover stories, plenty of 'lost' data and vague descriptions. Ecto-tech' itself was identifiable, but without a firm starting point to determine who was in deep and connected enough be of interest…

The third finger he tapped with some reluctance. "Dr Spence's team is looking into the Cadmus records." Phantom deflated, face pinching contritely. "Don't apologise," the Boy Wonder waved him off, concealing a grimace of his own. "If we could get them back that easily you wouldn't have done your jobs." It was impressive, he'd admit. Self-deleting worms that keyword-searched and erased documents, facial recognition-based pixel scramblers, forcible resets, dozens of spyware variants… Tucker Foley could have been a serious threat if he wanted to. Which didn't make it any less frustrating. Their best lead, gone. Even with the culprit code on hand, recovery chances were slim. Worse still was how easily they could have had it. Just 10 minutes difference; earlier and they would have beaten the ghost to the computer, later and Phantom would have made his own copies. Instead they were chasing echoes - barcode photographs leading back to wiped files.

Robin breathed out sharply, shoving the thoughts aside. It was being handled. They'd made breakthroughs from worse. No need to be anything less than traught today. "Look," he smiled reassuringly, "our bases are covered. All we're doing is working on leads. And anyway," the Bird raised a challenging eyebrow, "what's the alternative? We keep you on lockdown until it wraps?" If Dick was going stir-crazy, Danny had to be a hundred times worse. At least he got to leave the Manor for school. The young detective glanced back toward the ceiling. Spacious by their standards. Even by an acrobat's. By for a flier? "You'll drive yourself nuts staying cooped up in here." If he wasn't already. Once Alfred pointed them out it was easy to see the signs. Increased restlessness, distractibility, silence. Brooding. Phantom needed to get out more, for his own sake as much as theirs.

"And-" a twitch caught the Boy Wonder's eye. He paused, taking in the ghost's stance, the self-conscious twist to his features… "And that's not what you're worried about, is it?"

Green tinted the spirit's ears. "What? No - I mean…" he pulled at his collar. "Okay," a serious gaze met the detective's own, "everything you just said? I'm worried about it. I should be worried about it. It's just…" he groaned, running both hands through his hair, palms briefly obscuring his eyes. "I'm going to mess this up somehow."

It was a struggle not to smirk but the acrobat managed it. "So?"

"'So?'" Phantom mimicked incredulously. "You realise you're all Justice League, right?"

"Well," the word was drawn out with an impish grin, "technically, we're the Team. Justice League Lite." Much as he hated it as a public image - they were protégés, not kindergarteners, thank you very much - there was a tiny bit of truth there. The League could be an intimidating wall of stiffs most days. Their covert squad; "They're basically the same as me and B' anyway-"

"Surprisingly, that doesn't help."

Robin laughed. "Okay, friendlier." He gave his arm an encouraging swat. "Seriously, they'll like you." Well, mostly. Kid Flash probably wouldn't but at this point Dick really owed Wally some answers himself. And maybe an apology gift. "Don't punch anyone or fall on your face and you'll do fine."

A snort took some of the tension from the ghost's shoulders. "Thanks for the tip."

A buzz from their comms ground the conversation to a halt. The Boy Wonder's heart leapt.

"Time's up. You ready?"

"Depends." Phantom pursed his lips. The corners twitched, "You want the truth or one of those white lies that makes it seem better?"

The Bird rolled his eyes at him. "You've got this. Try to stay whelmed." He took a step towards the tubes. "Follow on the signal?"

The spirit managed to look sarcastic. "I'll do my best."

Robin spared him a last, wide smile, half-running into the Zeta's light.

Footsteps echoed through the halls of Mount Justice. They trickled in, converging where Batman stood by the central Zeta console.

Wally flicked a glance across the Team. Good; he wasn't the only one in uniform. Apart from M'gann and Conner - whose uniform was basically civvies anyway, so it didn't count - all of them had suited up. No, wait… out of the corner of his eye he saw Miss Martian's clothes shift to match. The speedster wondered whether their supervisor would take the hint. He'd settle on a pity-mission if it meant getting back into the field. Although, going by the lack of a certain someone…

"So, where's Rob'?" At this point Kid Flash wasn't really expecting an answer. No matter who asked, or how often, the response was always the same. Yes, Robin was fine; No, he wouldn't be joining them; No, it wasn't serious. Repeat ad nauseum. Honestly it stung a little. At least Rocket had an excuse - interplanetary phone plans were hard to come by and there weren't many couriers willing to carry along a galactic arm. If it weren't for a handful of cryptic texts, Wally would be running to Gotham himself to check that he didn't need to avenge a murder.

"He'll join us shortly."

What? Excitement rippled across the group. Conner stood straighter. Kaldur stepped forward. Eager looks were exchanged. M'gann brought her hands together.

"Do you-"

"You have a mission for us?" The Martian smiled, biting her lip as the archer cut across. Not that she could really blame Artemis for jumping in. With Robin away and the League still wrapping up New Year's investigations they hadn't been given much beyond minor recon jobs and theory lessons. Thankfully most of them had other things to make it up. Individual work with their mentors; Flash and Wally patrolled Central, she'd spent a few days in Chicago with Uncle J'onn - even Superman stopped by once to visit Conner. But Green Arrow? He'd been… occupied. Between the awful news about Speedy, helping Red Arrow with the search and keeping up his League duties, the older archer had to be under a lot of stress. And, if she was fair, more than a little paranoid. The telepath could feel Artemis chafing at the restricted patrols, the flat ban on solo-work outside of 'safe' areas. Although she suspected her friend wasn't fully holding to the latter.

The Dark Knight's answer broke through her thoughts. "Not today, no."

Disappointment was palpable. Conner slouched, lip pushing into a pout. A disgruntled noise escaped the archer's throat, echoed by a groan from Wally. M'gann turned, sharing raised eyebrows with Zatanna.

"If not a mission, then…?" Aqualad asked the question on all their minds.

"A new member." Surprised murmuring was ignored, their supervisor's expression holding the flood of questions at bay. "Provisional. He's been assisting on a private case, but we think his abilities could be a good fit for the Team."

More glances were exchanged.

"Anyone we know?" The sorceress sounded as curious as the Martian felt.

"Some of you may have encountered him before," Batman's eyes paused few times as they swept the group, "but I don't expect so." Miss Martian frowned, wracking her brain. Whoever it was couldn't be too much older; they'd just join the League. So, who did that leave? She couldn't remember hearing about any new partners and almost no-one struck alone out at their age. Even fewer who would be allowed to work in Gotham.

"Any questions?"

Kaldur looked to the rest of them. A few heads shook. "None that we could not ask directly."

"Alright." The Dark Knight lifted a hand to his communicator.

A long moment passed before the Zeta tube whirred into motion. The person who emerged sported a familiar costume and even more familiar grin.

"Hey," it was like he'd barely been gone at all, "long time, no see."

"Robin!" The exclamation came from several mouths at once. His smile grew brighter as they ran toward him.

"It is-"

"How are-"

"What happen-"

"Dude!" Wally's voice rose above the rest. He caught the Boy Wonder's wrist, pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Where were you?"

Robin jostled him lightly, slipping out of the grip. "Good to see you too, KF. It's kind of a long story - catch you up later?"

The speedster considered him. "Deal. But," Kid Flash levelled a warning finger, "you so owe me."

The Bird chuckled. "Yeah, I figured." He leaned around the redhead. "Hey Zee."

Artemis smirked at the magician's laugh. "What, no hello for the rest of us?"

"Depends," Robin smirked right back, "you want one?"

A firm cough came from their supervisor.

"Right, right." The younger detective shared a look with his mentor. "Guess it'll have to wait." He appraised their circle. "You might want to back up a bit. Kinda looks like you're ready to arrest someone."

"What, we're not?" M'gann heard Conner mutter behind her. She giggled quietly, pushing him backward as the others moved.

The Zeta flared to life again.

Recognised: Phantom. B-10.

A new figure stepped from the tubes, blinking away the teleportation light. Green eyes darted around the room, touching on each of them before settling on the Dark Knight. He moved hesitantly, stopping a few feet out from the Boy Wonder.

"This is Phantom." Their supervisor moved straight into introductions. He turned to address the newcomer, "this is the Team. The League's partners for covert operations."

They got a small, unsure smile in return. "I'm… It's an honour. To meet you."

M'gann watched, curious. He… wasn't what she expected. Not that there'd been time to expect anything, but she'd imagined the Batman would bring in someone… Older? Taller? Darker? Then again, she probably wouldn't have guessed Robin either. There were some similarities; the suit padding, the design of the belt, the general shape and placement of the insignia - even if the silver-white, spiked 'P' was completed different from her younger teammate's. Still, the Dynamic Duo seemed to have a theme, and the bright white splashes, the snowy hair, the unmasked neon eyes… he didn't quite fit. Although it was pretty striking. She was fairly certain she'd remember meeting him before.

The newcomer shuffled, rolling his weight back in a strangely familiar motion. It reminded her almost of Superboy, somehow. She tilted her head, studying the closed shoulders, the tight pull of his mouth. An image came to mind; her and Conner surrounded by students on their first day at Happy Harbour. She'd been okay but… 'Hello Megan.' Of course.

She stepped forward brightly. "Hi! Welcome aboard." The telepath extended a hand, trying to keep her tone as friendly as possible. "I'm Miss Martian. Or M'gann, if you like."

Green eyes locked onto her, something flickering in their depths before he relaxed, accepting the grip with cold fingers. "Hey. Phantom. But, uh," embarrassment darted across his face as he let go, "you already knew that." Miss Martian held down a laugh.

There was movement at her back. "Oh," she twisted, gesturing to her boyfriend. "This is Superboy."

"Conner," the Kryptonian stayed where he was, brow furrowed. "Hi." Her smile quirked in fond exasperation - he was trying, she knew, but would it hurt to be just a little nicer?

Thankfully their leader moved forward to fill the silence. "Aqualad. Call me Kaldur." A knowing smile was reflected in Phantom's face as the newcomer returned the handshake. "It is good to meet you properly." Well, that answered one question.

The others followed his example. Wariness faded out of Artemis' expression as the archer raised a hand. Zatanna sidled from beside Robin with a grin that made the Boy Wonder flush.

Which left the last member of their group surprising silent. Wally stood stiffly, smile frozen, an almost wounded look in his narrowing eyes. M'gann followed his gaze, just in time to see Robin glance apologetically away. 'What…?'

"And, Kid Flash, right?" This time Phantom took the initiative. He offered the redhead a tentative grin. "Rob' told me about you."

"Of course he did," the answer was too accusatory to be wholly playful. M'gann could feel an edge to his smile, despite the easy bow it accompanied. "My reputation proceeds me, after all."

The archer quirked an eyebrow. "Depends on which reputation you mean." Miss Martian frowned, tuning out the speedster's offended noise. Something wasn't right. Had Wally met Phantom before? And, then, why be upset with Robin over it?

A gesture between Batman and the boy in question drew their attention back to the Dark Knight.

"So," Robin asked, "now that roll-call's over…?"

"Black Canary wants you for training in two hours." Batman regarded them levelly, "Until then the time is yours."

"Will you be staying?"

"For training? Yes. Right now, other work needs to be done." His eyes swept the Team. "Two hours."

Then he was gone.

Phantom's gaze wandered the Mission Room, settling on the hatch iris above the training circle.

"That's Red Tornado's apartment," the Martian supplied, pushing her concerns aside. The boys would sort it out. Until then…

"He's a surprisingly chill den-mother," Zatanna added. "You know, for an android."

The newcomer blinked at them. "Wait, Red Tornado actually lives here?"

M'gann stopped, surprised. "Yes. Didn't Robin tell you?"

"I knew about the supervision part. But," a suspicious note entered his voice, "I'm starting to think he left a few things out."

The Bird's grin was cheeky. "Wouldn't be fun if there were no surprises."

His aggrieved expression drew a laugh from her. "Well, why don't we take a tour? Help fill some of the blanks."

A few groans were hastily stifled. Eventually Artemis shrugged.

"Sure, why not? Not like there's much we can do."

"Sounds good," Phantom nodded. "Um, I mean," he rubbed his neck, "if you're okay with…"

"Of course." Miss Martian smiled, beckoning as she headed towards one of the corridors. Conner grumbled softly as he followed. 'Behave' she mouthed, nudging the Kryptonian in the ribs. "So, how much do you know about the Cave?"

"I know it was the original League base…"

"That's right. Superman and Mr. Jordan - the second Green Lantern - hollowed the whole place out back before the League went public." The others joined in as they walked, building a decent - if scattered - version of the Mountain's early days. Robin tugged Zatanna to the side, the two sharing a whispered conversation before he fished something from his belt and handed it to her. M'gann's lip twitched at the sorceress' theatrical blush. It was good to see them together again. Her friend had been settling in well enough but a lonely first Valentine's so soon after Dr Fate was not the magician's best day.

"But how did the Joker know to follow him in the first place?" Phantom's voice changed as they headed towards the library. She listened, only half paying attention to Kaldur's answer. Rather, it didn't. Everyone's voice echoed a little in the Mission Room - it was essentially a huge cave, after all. But while the rest of theirs had faded, Phantom's continued to resonate, reverberating quietly in the tunnel. The faint white glow she'd written off as a quirk of the holograms or Zeta-light also remained. Come to think of it, neon eyes weren't exactly normal either. Meta-human, maybe? Batman had mentioned 'abilities'. She supposed she could ask, but it might be intrusive to bring it up so soon…

The Boy Wonder's reappearance was a welcome distraction. "So," he caught the end of Conner's sentence, "how have you guys been? Really wasn't loving the whole forced-radio-silence bit."

"In a word?" Artemis threw her head back, directing a sigh to the roof. "Bored. I could kill for a mission right now."

Corridors gave way to bookshelves as they passed through the door.

Robin stepped around a study table. "That bad?"

"Well, not entirely." The words felt hollow even as M'gann said them. "Um…" they really hadn't been doing a lot, "Zatanna's started at Happy Harbour with Conner and me."

"It's not a big deal," the magician interjected. "I mean, everyone's nice, and it's good not to be in uniform all the time but," she shrugged, "school's school."

Miss Martian flashed her an apologetic look; sensitive subject, she should have remembered. What else, what else? Their stakeouts? No; hours spent watching thugs and empty warehouses weren't exactly interesting. Captain Atom had tried to take them through another case study. Emphasis on tried. Other than that, there wasn't much. Except… Oh. She bobbed excitedly, glancing over at Aqualad. Batman might have already told him, but - "Kaldur?"

Their leader offered her a patient smile. "I have news from Atlantis." The younger boy perked up, watching Aqualad intently as he continued, "Queen Mera's child was born last month. They have a son."

"Wow," Robin's grin seemed slightly stunned. "That's great. Uh, congratulations?"

"How is Aquababy doing, anyway?" Kid Flash spoke for the first time since Phantom's introduction.

"Prince Artur," Aqualad corrected with gentle amusement, "is well. I do not see him often - he is only four weeks old - but my king and Prince Orm are happy to report." He hummed quietly. "They seem very proud."

Zatanna laughed. "That's adorable. Can we get pictures? I feel like we need pictures."

The Atlantean chuckled, leading them into the passage on the other side.

"That's wonderful news, Kaldur," M'gann beamed. "Can you give them the best from us?"

"Of course."

Artemis puffed out a breath. "I'm still trying to get my head around the idea of Aquaman being a father. I mean, wow but, weird."

"Oh god," the sorceress covered her mouth with her fingers, expression far too amused to seem sympathetic. "Kaldur, you're going to have to deal with so many dad jokes."

Aqualad's eyebrow lifted. "Do I not already?"

M'gann muffled a snort behind her hand, mirth spreading across the Team. The absence of a familiar cackle made her glance around. Robin had vanished again. 'Where…?' She turned, eyes flicking back to the library door. There. He'd fallen in step beside Kid Flash, the pair slowing to trail behind the group. Quiet words passed between them, their faces serious. Miss Martian's mouth tugged down as she watched the Boy Wonder shake his head. Whatever the problem was, she hoped they solved it soon. Some of the sourness had gone from Wally's scowl, at least. Maybe she could help somehow? It was too far away for her to hear, but perhaps Superboy…

The Kryptonian was still frowning.

Her own frown deepened. She reached out with her mind, brushing against the hard edges of her boyfriend's thoughts.

" Conner?"

"M'gann?" His question echoed across the link.

"You seem…" she paused, "is everything okay?"

"I don't-" confusion swirled. "Something's not right."

The Martian followed his eyes to the white-haired boy. "With Phantom?" His mind flicked in a vague affirmative. She chewed her lip, taking in the glow, the echo. "I think he's a meta. Maybe it has something to do with his powers?"

"Maybe," Conner repeated doubtfully. "I don't know. It feels…" his thoughts shifted, "wrong, somehow. Flash and Canary were never like this."

"Metas aren't exactly consistent," the telepath countered softly. She hummed, thinking. "He's… different, I'll give you that. But," comforting fingers wrapped around his arm, "not necessarily in a bad way. Besides, Batman would have warned us if there was any danger involved. Right?"

An unconvinced huff. "If you say so."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." She gave the arm a reassuring pat, pulling away from the mind-link, "We can always ask later if we need to."

"What about you, Boy Wonder?" The archer's voice snapped them back to attention. The boys broke apart, conversation aborted as they hurried to catch up. "Any stories on your end?"

Robin's face was a mix of glum and embarrassed. "Hate to be the bearer of boring news but it sounds like you had more to do than us."

Artemis made a disbelieving noise. "So that huge gang bust in the Narrows last week had nothing to do with you?"

He snorted. "I wish. Batman might've been in on it, but," embarrassment seemed to be winning out, "I was, uh, kind of… benched for a bit."

"Wait," the archer sounded halfway between shock and indignation. "Batman took you out of the game?" A half-nod and grimace were her answer.

Several voices started talking at once.

"What? Why?"

"Were you hurt?" Their supervisor might be overly strict at times, but he was rarely unfair. He wouldn't just pull Robin from the field. Not unless…

"Are you alright?"

"What happened-?"

"Guys!" The Boy Wonder held up his hands. "It's not like that." He made a placating motion. "I'm fine, I just…"

"…shredded most of the rule book tracking me down?" Phantom offered a tiny, wry smile. With a jolt M'gann noticed he'd fallen back, hovering awkwardly near the edge of their group.

The Bird clicked his fingers. "Yeah. That."

"So, how did you two end up working together?" Miss Martian jumped at the opportunity, trying to draw the newcomer into the conversation.

"If we're asking," Artemis' focus moved from the Boy Wonder to Phantom, "I'd love to know how he found you after that disappearing act." M'gann blinked. 'Artemis too?' And Kaldur, and maybe Wally. Did everyone else know? She glanced at Zatanna, who shrugged, nonplussed. Well, at least they weren't the only ones left out.

A look passed between the Bird and their newest member. Robin gestured encouragingly.

"Um," Phantom turned to her, "it's kind of a long story, but the short version is we ran into each other during the mess in Portland. And, uh," his gaze skated over the archer and Atlantean to land on the speedster, "another time before that. Anyway, I knew some things he and Batman wanted, they followed me to the next city and yeah, sort of went from there."

"As for how," the Boy Wonder's grin was not at all helpful. "Kinda comes with the whole detective thing."

"Really? I thought it came with the whole micro-tracer thing."

Robin glowered playfully in his direction.

"You normally work out of Portland?" She mightn't be as good with accents as some of the others, but she wouldn't have picked Phantom as West Coast.

"No," the white-haired teen shook his head. "No. Illinois originally" - that made more sense - "but the last year I've been… moving around, depending on where I need to be." Another glance at the detective. "I guess Gotham now."

"Working with The Batman himself," Zatanna mused. "What's that like?"

Phantom chuckled awkwardly. "You know, you're probably better off asking Rob'." They rounded a corner. "I don't exactly patrol or anything - Gotham's complicated enough without my stuff in the mix."

The archer's eyebrows pulled together. "So, what do you do, then?"

"I, uh…" the newcomer's smile shifted from awkward to uncomfortable, "usually casework. We had a…" he hesitated, eyes moving briefly to the roof, "different kind of energy, I suppose, back home, and some specialised tech that worked with it. Mostly I help sort intel and leads that could be connected." A shrug. "Some prototyping work too."

That was… odd. The way Phantom described things sounded almost more support consultant than standard League duties. M'gann's lips pursed as she steered them towards the elevator. But why would that be a 'good fit' for the Team?

"Is that the way you worked before Gotham?"

"Not really. I mean, the tech part sure but…" he fiddled distractedly with his collar, "Portland's closer to my usual gig. Not normally that hard though," he added at Kaldur's concerned look. "Most aren't as strong - or smart - as her. It's pretty routine: G-uh," Phantom stuttered, coughing to clear his throat, "they attack, start causing trouble, I track them down and capture them before things get worse. Standard stuff, you know?"

"Ah. That makes sense." The answering smile was a still little tight for the Martian's liking.

A chime from the elevator put the conversation on hold. They piled in, eight bodies manoeuvring in attempt not to step on each other. Wally seemed to have made it his mission to stand as far away from the newcomer as the space would allow. Judging by his position, her boyfriend had a similar idea.

She flicked his mind gently. "Conner…"

" What?"

The telepath sighed, shaking her head as she pressed the button.

"So, Illinois." Hopefully she'd picked a more comfortable topic. "Did you ever spend time in Chicago?"

Phantom's shoulders loosened slightly. "A little. Passed through a few times but we kind of kept to the south. That's…" a questioning glance came her way, "Martian Manhunter works there, doesn't he?" M'gann nodded. "Isn't there, like, a rule against hanging around League cities uninvited?"

She could definitely see how Batman might give that impression. "I think they like the warning but not officially, no." The doors slid open. "Manhunter's pretty relaxed about it. Where else have you been?" She led the way onto the hangar platform.

"Sort of everywhere. It wasn't exactly a planned- woah." He stopped. Wide eyes swept the high stone ceiling, the long stretch of water to the bay doors.

Miss Martian smiled at his stunned expression. "This would be the hangar. And this," they approached the curled red shape, "is the Bioship."

At touch from her mind it stirred, wings extending above them as it stretched out of resting form.

Phantom's eyes roved the ship with unrestrained fascination. "Bio?" His feet left the floor, rising through the air to press an experimental hand against a ridge. The telepath did a double take. "It's organic?"

"She is…" M'gann recovered quickly. "Actually, most Martian ships are."

Green eyes blinked down at her. "Wait, 'she'? As in, sentient?"

"That's right."

White-gloved fingers were hastily withdrawn. "Impressive." He dropped back to the ground.

The others were staring.

"So," Zatanna found her voice first, "I guess you can fly."

The newcomer turned sheepish. "Oh. Yeah," he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Probably should have warned you about that. Sorry."

"That's okay. We were just… surprised, is all." Something in his posture told the Martian than an interrogation about his powers wouldn't go over very well. "We'd go for a ride, but I don't think we have time." Subtle curiosity still burned in a few faces. She caught Kaldur's eye, discretely shaking her head.

"Perhaps later," the Atlantean took the hint. "After training. Right now we should continue," he gestured to the stairs, "there is… still a lot to show you."

From the looks on their faces, the rest of them didn't buy it. Still, they complied, allowing Aqualad to lead them off the platform with only a few rolled eyes. Robin and Kid Flash linked up again, the Boy Wonder's shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Phantom's eyes stayed fixed on the landing pad, watching as the ship shrank to rest again.

Artemis peered at the newcomer's back.

"Hey, Phantom?" Her voice echoed down the side of the cave.

He paused. "Yeah?"

"Um, what exactly are those?" The blonde flicked a hand toward the shiny, black-and-green tubes hanging across his spine.

Phantom seemed startled. "The Thermoses?"

Well, okay then.

A snort erupted from the speedster. "So, what - you defeat criminals with the power of hot soup?"

The white-haired boy groaned, odd green blotches creeping into his ears as he ran a hand down his face. "They're not actually…" He reached backward, unhooking a device from its strap. The name wasn't wrong; it really did look a lot like one, if smaller and sleeker. "Okay, look, the people who invented these used a thermos for the prototype casing. Name just kinda stuck." With a twist he unscrewed the cap, revealing the mechanism at its base. "It's a containment device."

"For…?" The archer ran a speculative eye along the gauge on its side.

Phantom's expression fell back into the same uncomfortable lines. Still too soon, then. "That's… kind of hard to explain." His focus dropped to the Thermos, ears tinting darker as he fidgeted the lid into place. "You know what I was saying before, about energy? Basically, they were designed to trap anything made of it."

"Then," comprehension dawned on Kaldur's face, his words carrying over Wally's sceptical noise, "in Portland. They were…?"

The newcomer nodded, clipping the device back into place.

A small, strange smile was playing about Zatanna's mouth.

Cautious neon eyes flickered the sorceress' way. "Everything okay?"

"Of course. I just…" she tilted her head, a teasing edge entering her tone, "guess I thought you'd go for something more purple."

Phantom stared at her. Then he snorted, tension draining away as he shook his head. "Yeah, pass. I have enough PR problems as it is. Besides," he offered a crooked grin of his own, "pretty sure 'Walker's already taken." The magician laughed softly.

Their conversation had carried them to centre of the lower floor.

"The hangar is easiest way out of the Cave without Zeta-ing." M'gann resumed her tour-guide role, gesturing around the space. "There's the bay door - obviously - but you can also get to the forest side through the front entrance," she indicated the corridor beside the landing platform. "There's an exit to the beach too, but it's a bit further along. Come on, I'll show you," the Martian headed towards the remaining tunnel.

A familiar whirring greeted them halfway down the hall. Metal plates clinked on the concrete as Sphere trundled up from the far end to investigate.

"Hey, girl." A purring hum joined the whir as it brushed past Superboy.

Miss Martian reached out to give the casing a friendly pat. "She must have heard us coming."

The alien ball made a circuit around the group, nudging Robin before zeroing in on the newcomer. Its whirring rose to an inquisitive pitch, faceplate stopping inches from Phantom's nose. Lights flashed intently.

"Um," the white-haired teen leaned away, "…hi?"

Sphere hummed out another purr, circling them again before heading off towards the hangar.

He watched it go. "Okay…?"

"That's Sphere." Conner's explanation was less than helpful.

Aqualad made a better attempt. "The New Genesphere is a living machine. Alien Technology. Superboy… adopted her after one of our missions."

"Good thing they let you keep her, huh Supey?" Wally was apparently getting over his aversion to talking. "Pet bike comes in handy."

Angry beeping echoed down the tunnel.

"I think she heard you."

"Living technology. That's…" Phantom took a moment to process. "How do you even find something like her?"

"Alien-tech' smugglers," Robin shrugged easily. "She was part of their cargo."

"Pretty sure she was their main cargo," Artemis corrected. "Considering Psimon tried to brain blast us for just getting near her."

A disgusted noise escaped Superboy. "For interrupting his experiments, you mean."

Glowing eyes darted between them, confused. "Think I might be missing something here. What happened?"

M'gann let the others take charge, Kaldur leading the way as her teammates ran the newcomer through the events of Bialya. First Conner, now Sphere, Phantom's own vagueness when it came to his powers… meta-human was feeling like less and less of a fit. The green around his ears before was probably a blush. But what other beings had that blood colour? Martians, yes - at least when not shapeshifting. As far as she knew they were the only ones close to Earth. And Batman would definitely have told Uncle J'onn if another of their people had arrived on-world. The telepath tugged a strand of hair, unable to help a faint stab of pique; it would be nice if their supervisor was a bit less cryptic. Still, she supposed, this was different. None-one else had needed to introduce their abilities. If Manhunter hadn't come before… if their new teammate's powers were as 'complicated' as it seemed, she could understand his caution about sharing. Especially with people he'd known for less than an hour. M'gann nodded to herself. Alright. For now, best to wait until Phantom felt comfortable bringing it up on his own. If he hadn't said anything by training time she'd consider asking.

Conversation swirled around her. Discussions of Psimon led to Queen Bee and her 'government'. Robin and Kaldur talked Bialyan-Quraci border conflicts - Miss Martian chiming in with enthusiasm as it turned to the Logan Animal Sanctuary. Slowly the newcomer relaxed into the group; questions and answers coming more freely, a few unprompted opinions slipped into the gaps left by the others. Wally thawed a little more too, even if he still avoided speaking directly to the white-haired teen as much as possible. From the Sanctuary they moved to international travel. Phantom had apparently worked a mission in Europe, though he couldn't give them many details. Cross-country pursuit of a destructive target tended to do that. Fortunately, the others had plenty to share.

They were leaving the workout room by the time one of the telepath's earlier questions was answered.

"Kind of all over the place," Phantom's reply addressed her and Aqualad. "Like I said, it wasn't exactly a planned trip." A shrug. "We were up and down the East Coast a lot."

"Any sights you wanna share?" The archer's voice landed somewhere between dry and curious.

The newcomer's lip jutted in thought. "Can't really call it a vacation but…" for a moment he brightened, "I got a few extra days in Florida. Cape Canaveral's pretty cool." Then another shrug. "Spent a couple of weeks in New York, I guess."

"Oh?" Zatanna perked up. "Where'd you stay?"

"Mostly we hung around Brooklyn."

The sorceress nodded her understanding. "Were you there for the summer parade?"

Phantom shook his head.

"What about D.C.?" There was something pointed in Kid Flash's question as they neared the rec' room. The newcomer's smile froze. "You did go to the Capital, right?"

"Well… yeah," Phantom swallowed, "but just for a job. We were there for what - five days? And it's not like we stuck around once we were done." He rubbed his left shoulder, uneasy eyes flicking away from the speedster. The smile that returned didn't quite manage to be flippant. "No holiday snaps, sorry."

A silence followed. As they crowded into the lounge, M'gann saw Robin dig an elbow into Wally's ribs. She chewed her lip. Washington must have been their first encounter. Probably before the Team, then; Conner didn't know Phantom, and she didn't think the others had been back without him since. It wasn't like Batman and Flash hadn't worked joint cases before their group came together.

Kaldur's voice broke through the quiet. He indicated the couches. "Perhaps this would be a good place for a break."

Miss Martian glanced toward the clock in the kitchen. Still a while until training - they'd made faster progress around the cave than she'd expected. And with only a few important things left to show… "We do have time."

Conner stepped around her, dropping into his favourite spot with a noise of assent.

"Sounds good." Zatanna settled at the end of the sofa, Artemis balancing on the arm beside her. Kid Flash and Robin claimed the back, the Boy Wonder tilting like he had half a mind to flop down beside the sorceress. Wally tugged his shoulder to keep him upright.

For a moment Phantom dithered, scanning their group before moving to lean against an empty chair.

"Speaking of travel," the archer picked back up on the conversation, "how'd you get from the East Coast to Portland anyway?"

"Um, well…" the white-haired teen shifted, repositioning himself on the arm, "it's not like we only stuck to the east. I mean, we ended up there a lot but mostly we moved to wherever was…" fingers tugged absently at the hem of his glove, "necessary, I guess. I was already heading that way."

Artemis' eyebrow lifted. "So you were, like, tracking them or something?"

An embarrassed tinge crept into Phantom's expression. "Not really. Portland was just a stop-over."

"That does explain how you were in the same city." Aqualad mused. "But," he watched him thoughtfully, "not how you were able to find us."

The newcomer ducked his head. "That's, uh… I can sort of sense when," another split-second pause, "things like them are around. Usually I go check, just in case, you know," he gestured, lip curving wryly, "that."

It wasn't just the archer who leaned forward. "Sense?" Her voice was sharp with interest. "You mean, with your powers?"

Eager looks were met with caution as Phantom nodded.

M'gann saw her chance. "Actually, I was wondering-"

A soft, whining growl cut her off.

Heavy footfalls announced Wolf's arrival. His ears were pricked, eyes pinned to the new arrival as the white-haired teen pushed himself off the chair. Phantom stiffened, gaze fixed on the Kobra-enhanced canine as he padded forward. Another half-growl slipped between Wolf's teeth, fur lifting around his neck.

The newcomer broke contact long enough to glance at them. "Who's this?"

"That's Wolf," Conner rose to his feet too, eyeing his pet carefully.

Phantom's mouth twitched. "Good name." He chanced a step forward, offering a hand for the huge animal to sniff. The rest of them tensed; Wolf wasn't the jumpy type but he had more than enough muscle for things to get ugly if he took offense. "Hey Wolf," his voice was soft, "didn't mean to scare you." The canine poked his nose forward, skin pulling back over his fangs. Phantom's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Okay," a faint pleading note entered his tone, "I don't know where you've been, and you don't know where I've been, so if you could not bite me that would be great. What do you think? Sound good?"

Wolf considered the hand for a moment. He snuffled again, nose twitching. Then he huffed, butting it with his muzzle before pushing past, newcomer disregarded in favour of collapsing in the corner.

"Nice to meet you too…?" The teen stared after him, befuddled.

He wasn't the only one.

"What was that?" Superboy voiced all their confusion. "I don't…"

"He's never done that before," M'gann peered at the mound of fur with concern. Wolf rarely responded to anyone. Not to Zatanna, not to Rocket. Not even to Tornado or Uncle J'onn. So, why…?

Robin sent a quizzical look Phantom's way. "I thought you said animals were fine?"

"Most are." The newcomer seemed only slightly less wrong-footed than the rest of them. "I get that with cats and dogs sometimes, but unless I'm actually trying…" He squinted at the exposed muscle on their pet's leg. "Guessing he's not a normal wolf, though."

Curiosity finally burned through Miss Martian's restraint. "So, what are your powers?"

Phantom's attention snapped back to her. "Oh. It's…" he stalled, eyes travelling between their faces as he rubbed the back of his neck. The Boy Wonder gave a faint nod. He took a breath, forcing tension down from his shoulders. "It's complicated, and weird, and probably going to sound crazy, but basically I'm," the last words came in a rush, "kind of a ghost?"

You could have heard a pin drop.

"I- I'm sorry," Artemis' mouth worked a few times before she found her tongue, "but did you just say…?"

"Ghost? Yeah." The white-haired teen's nod was halfway towards a cringe.

She blinked. "Right. Ghost. Okay."

M'gann flicked a glance around the group. Conner's forehead creased, a bizarre mix of confusion and realisation warring on his features. The archer's hand had dropped to Zatanna's shoulder, grey and blue eyes fixed on the newcomer as they traded murmurs. The magician gave a minute headshake. Kaldur's expression was carefully blank. An odd almost-smirk was twisting Wally's face. Only Robin remained nonchalant, shrugging as Phantom shot him a look halfway between a plea and an I-told-you-so.

'Ghost...' It certainly would explain a few things. Even if those explanations raised more questions. Until now the telepath had never really understood humans' obsession with the concept. Martians did have their own stories, but they were mostly about the living; remembrance, healing the holes in a shared psyche, cautionary tales against using telepathy to sustain a mind whose body had failed. Earth-ghosts had always seemed like another kind of fiction; silly legends told around campfires and dark horror movies that she made a point of skipping past on TV. Phantom's bold, solid colours certainly didn't fit with those fading spirits and vengeful spectres. Not that she'd heard many stories. Or that they were very consistent. Although - her throat tightened - they were all fairly insistent about one grim detail.

"If you're a… how did you…?" Morbid curiosity brought the question to the surface.

For a second he stared blankly. Then a faint grimace chased comprehension from his face.

"Oh no," Miss Martian clapped a stricken hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean," stupid, stupid. What was she thinking - of course he wouldn't want to talk about it. "I shouldn't have… you don't have to answer that."

Phantom's expression softened a little. "It's alright." He sighed, focus shifting to the distance, "Well okay, no, not really - it's not exactly something you ask - but you're not the first." An awkward pause followed. Then, "It was an accident. A few years back. I was messing about in a lab and well," he gave an offhanded shrug, "you know what they say about curiosity and cats..."

The telepath wasn't the only one who winced.

"I'm sorry," a mortified whispered slipped between her fingers.

The ghost - he was really a ghost - offered her a weak smile, running a hand through his fringe. "Look, just… Forget it, okay? You couldn't know. Although," his brow quirked upwards, "you might want to be careful about that question. Some of them take it kind of personally." The smile relaxed slightly, "Or worse they'll get flattered and, trust me, you do not want to hear a whole life-story."

M'gann's cheeks burned. "Right." She turned her eyes to the others. Most were still focussed on the spirit. Kid Flash's smirk was growing, eyebrows almost disappearing into his mask as he sent a sly - and very much one-sided - glance toward the Boy Wonder.

"So," her attention was pulled back to the magician's thoughtful frown, "are all ghosts, you know," Zatanna gestured at Phantom, "like you?"

A quiet scoff interrupted whatever answer the newcomer was about to give.

"Alright," the speedster brought his hands together in a slow clap, "very funny. You punked us. Good job. But, c'mon," he gave the Bird an indulgent smile, "don't you think you're letting the joke drag a bit?"

Robin's expression was resigned. "Not a joke, KF."

The smile soured. "Ghosts?"

"Yes Wally," the detective gave a sigh of bored patience. "Ghosts." The redhead spluttered.

Artemis sent the magician a sidelong glance. "Three, two…"

Wally spared her a dirty look before turning back to the Boy Wonder. "Ghosts aren't real."

"Well apparently they are."

He rolled his eyes. "And so is Bigfoot. Dude, really, the undead? You expect me to believe that?"

"Not really." For a moment the speedster brightened. "But," his face fell at Robin's grin, "seeing as you've been hanging out with one for more than an hour now..."

"Oh ho, funny." Phantom fidgeted, chewing his lip as Kid Flash glowered at the Bird. "But ghosts aren't real. They can't be. It's impossible."

"Just like magic?" the archer asked innocently.

"Not the point!" The redhead threw up his hands. "Magic might -" he pointed a warning finger at the blonde, "and I emphasise the might - conceivably work somehow but it's not physically possible to 'wake the dead'. Medical science has been trying and failing for years. It can't. be. done." An emphatic finger-jab punctuated the final words.

"Then what of Ra's al Ghul?" Aqualad had no desire to aggravate the situation, but he couldn't help pointing out the obvious exception to Wally's reasoning.

"Oh please," the speedster made a sound of vast impatience, "Ra's never dies dies. The body and brain stay viable for a while after you flatline - get to someone in that window and you can jump-start them, happens all the time. Besides, the guy's an assassin – he'd know all the tricks for seeming dead when you're not. But once you're actually gone?" He gestured in strong negation. "Can't happen. It's not scientifically possible."

"… actually, it is." Phantom's voice was stilted with discomfort but otherwise surprisingly calm. At the very least he didn't seem angry. The Atlantean wouldn't be surprised if Robin had warned him that this could happen.

"Is that so?" Kid Flash's voice was acerbic. "Enlighten me – I'm dying to work this out."

The white-haired teen shuffled under the glare. "Okay, look," he pressed his hands together, "I'm not gonna pretend to be a researcher or anything, but the most popular theory is that the... EMPs in the brain when a creature dies – if they're strong enough, they... imprint on the ambient ectoplasm that's around and – if there's enough of it – it starts building on the pattern to create a new entity. So, a ghost."

For a few short seconds Kaldur thought he might believe him.

"Seriously?" Wally snorted. Loudly. "Imprinting? Ectoplasm? Dude, are even listening to yourself?"

Phantom grimaced. "Yeah, I know. Sounds nuts right? But it's the best we've got and – like it or not – I'm here, so there has to be an explanation, right?" He scratched his neck, eyes entreating. "Even if no-one's found it yet."

"Look," the speedster's voice was heavy with exasperation. "I'll concede that maybe you aren't human, but there's no way you're a ghost. A few campfire stories and some half-baked," he waved a hand in the newcomer's direction, "whatever-that-was isn't going to make it any less impossible. The science isn't there. Drop the act already."

The spirit's mouth pulled flat. "I'd love to. Except I'm not acting. Okay, I get it," he ran a tired hand down his face, "it's hard to believe. But that doesn't mean it's not real. Besides," his expression turned pointed, "wouldn't a good scientist check the evidence before dismissing it?"

Wally bridled. "What's that supposed-"

"Enough." The Atlantean cut across before they could go any further. "This is not something that can be settled now. And even if it could, it will not be done by fighting." Shock he could understand. He would need a while to process the implications himself. But for now… He turned to the newcomer. "If this is the best explanation you are able to give for your nature and powers, then I am willing to accept it." Something almost guilty flashed across Phantom's face as he nodded.

"Oh come on, Kaldur. You can't be-"

"Kid, please." Aqualad closed his eyes, striving keep his tone patient. "I understand that this is not the most easy situation to comprehend. But after everything we have seen and done, I do not think it would be wise to dismiss the possibility out of hand." A touch of steel entered his voice. "In any case we are a team. Petty arguments do not aid our cause." The speedster's expression remained mutinous. He sighed. "Perhaps in this case the two of you can agree to disagree."

The ghost threw him a grateful look. "Fine by me."

Wally glowered for a moment before acquiescing with a short, sharp huff. "Okay. Yeah. Whatever." Tension poured out of the watching Team members at the words.

"Good," Kaldur smiled. Crisis averted for now. He glanced at the clock. "Perhaps we should continue." His gaze moved back to the speedster, "I do not believe we seen the mission souvenirs yet." Kid Flash rolled his eyes at the ploy but brightened anyway, accepting the olive branch with decent - if grouchy - grace.

"Great!" M'gann clapped her hands, practically radiating relief. "So, the souvenir room is this way." The others peeled themselves from the couches as she moved towards the door. "We'll need to go past the dorms to get there." She twisted to look at Zatanna and Conner. "Do you want to stop by your rooms?"

Conner shrugged.

"I'm fine with either," the sorceress still had half an eye on the newcomer.

Phantom looked between the three of them. "How many of you actually live here?"

"Well, Superboy, Zatanna and I are here full-time. There are also spare rooms, in case anyone needs to overnight on long missions…"

The group broke into clusters as they walked. Zatanna joined Miss Martian and Phantom near the front, Artemis tagging along a little further out. Robin lagged slightly, torn between joining them and walking with his best friend.

From his place a few feet behind, Kid Flash made a face at the ghost's retreating back.

A quiet sigh sounded as Superboy joined Kaldur at the rear.

"He's not going to drop it, is he?"

Their leader's lip twitched.

"Not a chance."

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Assessment

The training ring was already glowing by the time the Team returned to the Mission Room.

More people waited by the circle’s edge than expected.  They clustered together, talking in quiet, sombre voices.

“Uncle J’onn!”

The interlopers stepped apart at M’gann’s delighted exclamation, the young Martian flying over to wrap her arms around Manhunter.

A blur of yellow and red followed, Wally nearly beating the telepath across as he skidded to a stop in front of his own mentor.

“What are you doing here?”

Flash scuffed a playful hand through his nephew’s fringe.  “What, we’re not allowed to say hello?”  The redhead ducked, pushing the hand away in mock-disgust.  His mentor grinned. “Heard you were all getting together.  Thought we’d stop by.”

Artemis took a more sedate pace, weaving her way around the ring to stand beside the central figure.  Green Arrow gave her shoulder a tired squeeze.  A few feet away, Black Canary’s lips turned down.  Even at a distance she could see the weary edge to Ollie’s smile, the fading grey shadows hidden beneath the mask.  At least now he was averaging more than three hours a night.  It had taken a few too many near-misses for the truth to sink in; the sleepless, single-minded search just couldn’t be sustained.  No matter the duty he felt he owed to Roy - both of them - they weren’t going to achieve it running themselves into the ground.  None of them wanted to admit it - it felt too much like giving up - but as days had become weeks, then months without sight of leads, priorities had to shift. To prepare for a long haul - make room for other responsibilities again; not just to the League, and Star, but to himself.  And to his younger protégé.

Speaking of responsibilities… Zatanna and Conner had come to a halt by Red Tornado.   Superboy covertly scanned the group, hopeful eyes darting between them and the Zeta Tubes.  His mouth pulled flat, blank resignation smothering the spark of hurt at the absence of a red-caped figure.  Canary bit back a sigh.  No one could deny Clark had been trying harder since New Years’.  Still, it was early days; testing the waters of each other’s boundaries, figuring out exactly what their relationship was supposed to be.  Not enough time had passed for Conner to feel secure that the change would last.  For Superman to not be here when everyone else was…

She reached out to touch the young Kryptonian’s sleeve.  “He radioed ahead.”  At least this time there was a reason.  Bad news, to be sure, but still infinitely better than no news at all. “There was an air disaster over Metropolis.  The situation’s contained” - from the corner of her eye, she saw the others relax - “but recovery efforts are going to take a while.” His surprise was met with a warm, steady gaze.  “Otherwise he would have come.”

Conner blinked at her.  Then softened, nodding as he turned to look back out at the circle. From her place at Manhunter’s side, M’gann sent an encouraging smile.

“Aquaman sends his apologies as well.”  Tornado shifted to address Kaldur.  “Important events required his attention in Poseidonis.”  The android paused for a moment before adding, “Family matters.”

Aqualad’s expression was fond.  “I understand.”  His attention passed around the ring, acknowledging the Leaguers with a respectful nod.  “I will be sure to pass on any news.”

“And our best wishes,” interjected the older Martian.  “It has been good to receive such positive updates.  I hope one day we will be able to see for ourselves.”  A few heads dipped in enthusiastic agreement.

Kaldur’s smile warmed further.  “He will be glad to hear that.  Thank you.”

Two people still remained on the far side of the circle.  Robin tugged at the taller’s elbow, pulling him lightly before setting a course to Batman.  His companion didn’t quite follow fast enough to avoid the attention of the League.

Three extra pairs of eyes focused in on the newcomer.

“Oh?”  The white-haired teen froze at Manhunter’s voice.  “Then, this would be…?”

“This is Phantom.”  Relief flickered across the boy’s face as Batman came to the rescue.  The Dark Knight answered Arrow’s curious glance, “He’s being considered for a place on the Team.” Understanding dawned on Flash’s features as he returned to studying the new addition.  “Phantom,” the teen blinked at being addressed directly, “this is Martian Manhunter, Green Arrow and the Flash.” Batman’s gaze moved on, “Red Tornado is the primary overseer for activities at the Mountain.”  He gestured to Dinah.  “Black Canary is in charge of combat training.”

The heroine took the silent invitation, keeping her smile as welcoming as possible.  “I look forward to working with you.”

Phantom fumbled briefly in response, whatever answer he might have had planned swallowed back in favour of an anxious nod to each Leaguer.  Canary held down a sympathetic wince.  This… complicated things.  Despite how it may seem, the privacy around the meeting wasn’t just an indulgence of Batman’s cryptic tendencies.  She and Tornado had already been over Phantom’s profile.  With just the three of them supervising it would have been simple; a brief overview and some baseline assessments before incorporating the newcomer into a routine training session.  The unexpected audience added significantly more pressure to the process.  Her eyes darted to Superboy.  Unfair as it was to Conner, it was probably for the best that Superman hadn’t come.

“Alright kid,” Flash brought his hands together, still watching the teen with interest, “what’ve you got?”  This time the grimace was harder to push back; Phantom baulked again, a bolt of panic colouring the look he sent to the Dark Knight.  ‘Barry…’  Honestly.  She might have trodden on his foot if she’d been close enough to get away with it.

She let it out in a breath, the group’s attention shifting as she took a step forward.  Damage control then.  “Most Team members join after working directly under a League member.” Her voice stayed calm, reassuring. “In your case the situation is a little different, so we’d like to cover a few things first.”  It wasn’t an accident that most League inductees were either public associates or former protégés.  Beyond just trust, collaboration was an easy way to gauge more subtle factors; temperament, tactics, cooperativeness, preferred fighting styles.  Batman’s file gave a solid character reference, plus detailed second-hand reports for just over a year of traditional field-work - and a decidedly less detailed intervening period - but it still left a number of holes to fill.

“Okay.” Partial success - the teen relaxed faintly, even if the apprehensive look didn’t entirely vanish.  His expression turned vaguely expectant.  “Um, so…?”

Red Tornado moved forward as well.  “Our file contained limited information on the specifics of your abilities.” Not a completely accurate statement; the report provided a surprisingly long list of powers.  Hearing Phantom describe them, on the other hand, would give a better idea of his approach.  “We were hoping you could elaborate.”

Another nod, this time more slowly.  “Alright.”  His eyes moved carefully around the gathering, trying to gauge how much each of them knew.  They lingered in places, jumping from Robin to Batman and across a few of the Team before returning to her and Tornado.  “So,” a second flicker around the group, “I guess the best place to start would be… I’m a ghost.”

Judging by the reactions, this wasn’t news.

To all but three, anyway. 

“Wait, kid,” Flash asked haltingly, “do you mean…?”

A small, uncomfortable dip of the head.  “Yeah.  That kind.”  The ghost in question shrugged, not quite managing to make it seem offhand. “Except, you know, less of the rattle-your-chains, vengeful wailing bit.”  He chanced a paper-thin smile to the Leaguer.  “Have seen one in a bedsheet though.”

The joke landed in silence, Robin offering a single, weak snort as the older speedster stilled.  Manhunter’s brows were up, red eyes wide and pensive beneath them.  A ripple passed down Ollie’s throat, something uneasy creeping through the back of his expression.  Dinah saw him close his teeth around the realisation of a possibility; one just slightly better than the worst-case scenario that had hung over his search from the beginning.  A question that Phantom might be able to answer.

And that she hoped they never felt the need to ask.

The same thought had occurred to her when they’d first gone over the spirit’s file.  For a moment Canary lamented their oversight in not briefing the rest of the mentors on the details.  All of them were at least aware that a recruit was being considered, even if there’d been good reason not to spread the information to the League at large.  Granted, they hadn’t informed the Team either, but that was because Phantom and Robin had asked to handle it themselves.  Her eyes darted to the younger attendees.  Going by the lack of response it seemed they’d done exactly that.

Well, the lack of response from all but one.  Wally’s disbelieving cough was probably meant to be quiet.

A good deal of shyness faded from Phantom’s face as he turned to the younger speedster.  “Would it help if I got you a journal paper later?”  She’d almost appreciate the diversion, if she couldn’t hear the seeds of a long-running argument in his tone.

“From where, The Mysterious Times?”  That probably wasn’t meant to be audible either.

“You know there’s an actual field dedicated to this right?” And apparently the argument was already ongoing.  Wonderful.  In hindsight, Dinah supposed she shouldn’t be surprised - supernatural concepts had never played well with Kid Flash’s comfort zones.

“Riiight.” Wally’s tone didn’t seem to be playing nice either. “My bad. Guess I missed Nature’s ‘parabiology’ run.  Hey, so,” his eyebrow crept up, question practically dripping with derision, “what was the peer reviewing like?  ‘Cause last I heard, the leading ‘experts’ were a couple of yeti-hunters writing out of a basement.”  Robin jolted at Batman’s side, hands flying in a sudden, urgent motion.  It went ignored as the redhead shrugged.  “Kinda hard to be unbiased when you’re shilling ‘spirit catchers’ on the side, you know?”

Phantom didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Or, at least, not verbally.  His jaw was clenched tight, expression frozen in frigid, livid disbelief.  The corner of his lip began to curl.  Green eyes narrowed in contempt, something dangerous glinting in their depths as they bored into the speedster.

An uncomfortable chill spread around the room.

Dinah sent a concerned glance to her fellow onlookers.  ‘Odd thing to be touchy about.’  In her experience, nonhuman-researcher relations tended to be… strained at best.  Wally had by no means been polite about it, but to provoke such an intense reaction…  ‘What am I missing?’  The tense silence offered few answers.  A pained grimace was visible beneath the hand covering most of Robin's face.  Barry, J’onn and Ollie were no help; expressions equal parts alarmed and confused.  What little she could see of Batman’s simply looked profoundly tired. 

The Team, meanwhile, was less affected.  Some concern - largely from M’gann - but for the most part reactions ranged from unimpressed boredom to resigned exasperation.  The corner of Artemis’ mouth curved sardonically.  They’d… expected this, it seemed.  Then again - she remembered Tornado’s report from the Tower of Fate - it wasn’t the first time they’d dealt with this mindset from Wally.

Who, judging by the self-satisfied tinge to his smile, appeared to have taken the ghost’s silence as an admission that he’d gotten the last word.

“Alright.” Thankfully, Flash stepped in before Phantom could amend that.  His eyes moved carefully between them as he caught his nephew’s shoulder.  “Enough, you two.”  A quick apologetic grin was sent in Canary’s direction.  It turned jovial as he tugged Wally back.  “Finish this up some other time.  We’ve got a meeting to get through.”

The strained atmosphere deflated like a balloon, cold dissipating as the ghost blinked at him, anger falling away into embarrassment as though suddenly remembering where they were.  A sheepish cough sounded, ears tinting green as he scrubbed the back of his neck.  After a moment Kid Flash relented too, letting his mentor draw him away with only a hint of smugness.

Dinah spared Barry a grateful nod, eyes closing briefly before calling attention back to herself with a brisk clap.  “Leaving the... implications aside for the moment, could you talk us through your powers?”  Hopefully this was just a case of bad first impressions.  Wally and Zatanna worked together just fine, after all, despite his initial stance on magic.  Until then…  She made a mental note not to pair them together.  Rivalry was one thing, but she’d prefer not to have training matches side-tracked into a way of settling petty disputes.

Phantom took a second to collect himself.  “Right,” the embarrassed look hadn’t quite faded, “so-” he stopped, studying their group carefully.  “None of you have really met a ghost before, have you?”

A small frown flickered across Artemis’ face before Kaldur answered. 

“Outside of the ones in Portland?”  The Atlantean shook his head. “No.”

The spectre’s mouth pulled into a thoughtful line.  “Okay,” he rubbed the back of his neck again, brows drawing together, “first thing then: ghosts aren’t really a species the same way humans,” his eyes flicked to M’gann and J’onn, “or Martians, I guess, are.  They can be pretty different, and I’m, uh, more different than most in… a couple of ways.”  He cleared his throat, moving swiftly on. “There are common patterns, and ways to work out what you’re dealing with but…”

‘But don’t look at me and assume everyone else will play by the same rules.’  Dinah nodded.  The file had made some mention of that.  “We appreciate the warning.”  She gestured for him to continue.  “Then…”

“So, to start with, every ghost can fly and turn intangible - pass through solid objects,” he clarified.  “Most can go invisible too, though they don’t tend to do that as often.”

Behind her, J’onn made a small noise.

The explanation petered out.  “Are...” Phantom’s gaze was cautious as it landed on the Martian.  “Is there something…?”

Manhunter raised a placating hand.  “Apologies.  It is just… similar abilities are common among my kind.  I would be curious…” Red eyes studied the ghost speculatively.  He took a half-step forward, “If I may?”

There was no small amount of wariness to the answering nod.  “Uh, sure.”

Green eyes tracked the Martian’s path across the circle, darting down briefly to sweep from feet to shoulder as he drew near.  The spirit shifted back a little, tensing at the proximity of the older hero.  Manhunter regarded him patiently.  A green-skinned hand was extended into the space between.  ‘Oh.’  Canary’s interest sharpened as she realised exactly what J’onn was hoping to try.  The same comprehension dawned on Phantom’s face a second later.  His own lifted to mirror it.

As they watched, Manhunter’s hand changed, blurring to the signature indistinctness of a density shift.  He moved it to the left, passing through the teen’s still-solid palm.  Phantom’s fingers twitched at the sensation.  The ghost flexed his hand for a moment.  Then it shifted as well, fading to a different kind of translucency; clearer but less substantial.  He inched it back toward the Martian’s, hesitating before closing the distance.  They passed through unimpeded.  One of J’onn’s eyebrows lifted.  It made sense, Black Canary reasoned; based on his past explanations, density shifts moved between the gaps in other solids.  Intangibility, meanwhile, seemed to ignore solids altogether. 

Manhunter passed the hand back and forward a few more times - testing different densities, no doubt - before resolidifying it with a thoughtful hum.  Phantom followed suit, moving his hand through the Leaguer’s a final time before returning to tangibility.

“Interesting.”  The Martian changed focus, tilting his palm towards the spirit - Phantom moving quickly to copy.  This time colours and textures shifted, swirling to a near-exact match of the training ring’s.  It spread to the rest of his body, leaving only a mirage-like distortion behind - an effect only slightly ruined by the holographic light striking them from below.  Phantom peered up at him, head tilting in a faint, confused squint.

“Camouflage.”  J’onn didn’t wait for the question to be asked aloud.  “An extension of our shapeshifting.  You could say it is more a… ‘blending in’ than true invisibility.”

The ghost blinked, disconcerted.  “Right.”  The frown returned, eyes moving from Manhunter’s hand to his own, “That…  Ours isn’t like that.”  His fingers began to disappear, fading past the Martian’s to vanish entirely, spreading down his arm like oil wiped from glass.  If they hadn’t seen it happen it would be easy to believe J’onn was standing alone in an empty ring.  No evidence remained to suggest the ghost was there.

Or that he was still there.

The back of Dinah’s neck prickled.  With flight to mask footsteps and intangibility rendering them undetectable by touch…  Nonthreatening as Phantom generally appeared, she was starting to understand why his kind had developed such an unsettling reputation.  The idea that a ghost could be present at any time - eavesdropping, spying, interfering - without any of them being the wiser was… disquieting to say the least.

Then again, those exact same abilities were almost tailor-made for the Team.

With a cough, Phantom popped back into view.  He’d used the cover to retreat a step, she noted with a touch of amusement.

“So,” Flash rolled his weight to the other foot, unable to keep the unease completely out of his question, “is there any way to tell when one of you is… doing that?”  Wally sent his mentor a vaguely sour look.

Manhunter faded back into visibility as the spectre turned to answer. 

“There are, yeah.  I can sense other ghosts… usually,” he rubbed a thumb against his collar, “but the easiest way is with detector-tech’. Our powers can’t exactly hide our ecto-signatures.”

A few eyes turned to Batman.

“We’re currently refining sensor schematics for League use.”  Subtle relief loosened the stances of the mentors.

Another difference struck Canary as J’onn moved to leave the ring.  “Your powers are also transferable, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but I have to be touching…”

The Martian stopped, proffering his palm again.  An invitation.  Phantom hesitated before reaching to press tentative fingers against the green skin.  This time when his hand vanished it took Manhunter’s with it.

J’onn peered curiously at the space.  “How far can that be extended?”

His arm reappeared as the ghost pulled away.  “Pretty far, I think?  I can cover a few people at a time.  Vehicles too.  It kind of depends.”

Manhunter flexed the hand experimentally.  “Impressive.”

“Um,” Phantom rubbed his neck, a tiny, bashful smile claiming his face as J’onn returned to the sideline, “thanks.” M’gann smiled back over her uncle’s shoulder.

Dinah inclined her head towards the hero.  “That answers some of our questions.”  Even if they had gone a little off-topic in the process.  A querying eyebrow was directed Manhunter’s way.  “Was there anything else…?”

“No.  That… was all.”  There was a definite sense of ‘for now’ to his words.  No doubt they’d be asked to hold a second briefing later.

“Alright.” Her attention returned to the newcomer.  “In that case, would you mind running us through the rest of your abilities?”

The spirit’s head bobbed in a short nod. “Okay.  So, intangibility, invisibility and flight are the most common powers.  After that is ecto-energy.”  He seemed to weigh something, flicking an indecipherable glance to Batman before raising his palm.  Neon green light crackled, fire-like, across his fingers.  He closed his hand around it.  “For me it’s mostly rays, blasts, shields, some redirecting… stuff like that.   Other ghosts can do more.”  A faint shrug.  “Not usually something you’ll see from less complex ones though - most animal-types can barely manage an ecto-blast unless they’re really strong.”

A pause followed as he looked to them for cues.

“Right.”  The ghost rubbed his neck again, pushing forward.  “Next is…” he trailed off, dragging white-gloved fingers through his fringe with apprehension.  A short breath was released.  “We call it ‘overshadowing’.  It’s…” he winced, shrinking back, “it’s basically possession.”

This time the unease was harder to hide.  Clearly Phantom noticed, because he rushed to add, “It’s not perfect.  Sometimes the host will kick the ghost out themselves, and there’s tech’ that can keep us from touching you at all.  Plus we can’t overshadow each other - we think part of it’s our powers, so some of you might be…” his eyes made a nervous circuit.  “And anyway,” hands fluttered in a vaguely panicked attempt at reassurance, “it’s not something that happens often.  Overshadowing limits the other powers we can use so most won’t if there’s another option.  So,” the hands dropped back to fidget at his sides, “uh, you know…” With a shrug he retreated, falling into tense silence.

There was at least some comfort there, Canary thought.  Not so much in the limitations themselves - very few restrictions couldn’t be worked around by someone clever or determined enough, although preventative tech’ did offer a little solace - but in Phantom’s own awareness.  A power like that was rife with potential for abuse.  So easy.  So tempting.  They’d all brought in a few who’d ended up on the wrong side simply by not realising the implications of their abilities; too caught up in the thrill of what they could do to think about what it might mean.  Even the Team weren’t completely immune.  And with so much firepower on hand… at least ‘responsible power use’ was a lesson he’d started learning himself.

 “If someone was…”  Ollie’s eyes were definitely on Artemis as the older archer found his voice.  “Would there be any way to tell?”

“Yes,” the answer came quick and tight.  “Detector-tech’ will still work - might not be as clear when they’re in something but there’s still a ghost there for sensors to pick up.  And there are physical tells too.”  He motioned towards his face.  “Eyes are a big one.  They can hide it sometimes, but you might see them change colour - especially when they’re using their other powers.  And even if they’re trying to blend in they still have to pretend to be the host, so unless they actually planned and studied them they’ll probably seem… off.  You know: acting weird, talking weird or old-timey or with, like, an accent, not knowing things they should, stuff like that.  It’s not exactly a lot, but…” he grimaced apologetically.

Manhunter raised an eyebrow.  “Then it only affects the body?  Not the mind?”

The ghost frowned, thinking, then nodded.  “From what I’ve seen and the times I’ve-” he cleared his throat, opting not to finish that sentence.  To be honest, Dinah wasn’t all that keen on pursuing it either.  “We don’t get access to the person’s head.  It’s more like they get knocked out or fall asleep while the ghost puppets their body around.  Most of the people I’ve talked to don’t even remember what happened, afterwards.”  From a security standpoint, that much was a relief.  Difficult as it might be to distinguish from other forms of control, it at least offered less risk of compromising sensitive information.

Green Arrow finally pulled his gaze away from his protégé.  “How long could you keep someone like that?”  She might ask Batman to put Ollie at the top of the sensor-tech’ distribution list, if only for his peace of mind.

“Not really sure.”  His nose wrinkled.  “Like I said, it isn’t exactly popular.  Longest I’ve seen is… maybe a week, tops?  And even then, I know they weren’t in the host one hundred percent of the time.”

“What about Portland?”  This time Artemis herself spoke up.  “They were doing it for at least two weeks before we came in, right?”

Phantom made a face.   “Yeah, but… that wasn’t overshadowing.  You know what I was saying, about ghosts being different?” he added at the younger archer’s confused frown.  “It’s kinda that.  Spectra can make herself look human when she’s juiced up enough, and Betrand’s basically just a shapeshifter.”

J’onn blinked.  “Is that common?”

“Shapeshifting?”  The spirit shook his head.  “No.  Including him I’ve only seen two.  Some others’ might change a bit to match their mood but it’s one of those powers that you’ve sort of got to take on a ghost-by-ghost basis.”

Canary saw an opportunity to steer the conversation back to more comfortable waters.  “And what about yourself?”  The ghost startled, sending her a look of vague alarm.  “Are any of your abilities unique to you?”

“Oh,” Phantom’s shoulders loosened. “Um, well… I guess we’ve covered all the really common ones.  For me…”  His mouth twisted thoughtfully.  “There’s ice, but that’s not just my thing - frost-cores are pretty rare but there’s still a whole colony of ghosts with them.   Plus some smaller stuff - like duplication, which,” he coughed, ears tinting green, “I’m, uh, working on.  A few other ghosts can do that too.  When it comes to me specifically there’s… I guess there’s the Ghostly Wail.”  His head tilted towards Dinah.  “It’s sort of like what you can do, I suppose.  Except really destructive and really draining - once I use it I’m basically out, so it’s kinda a last resort-type deal.”  The heroine nodded, mentally running through possibilities.  Her biggest early struggle with the Cry had been accidental activation.  Then later, focusing and extending how long it could be sustained.  If Phantom’s main issue was limiting his output… it wasn’t impossible but it made a more difficult problem to train around.  Then again, it would hardly be a travesty if he left one ability less developed in favour of the others.  “I think that’s everything,” he finished as the quiet turned expectant.

Flash and Arrow exchanged a look.

“Let me get this straight: you can walk through walls, disappear, fly, take over peoples’ bodies, plus the energy thing, ice and this Wail?”  The speedster’s eyebrows jumped beneath the mask.  “Kid, that’s… a lot.”

The teen shuffled.   “I, uh…” He rubbed at his ear, glancing bashfully away, “Other ghosts are the same but - I mean, yeah, I suppose…”  Which was either extremely modest, or… according to the report, most of Phantom’s field experience has been against other spirits.   She wondered if he even realised just how much of an outlier that level of power was in more standard situations.

“So,” Ollie’s voice took on the joking tone he got when he was really trying not to sound bothered, “are there many of you around?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘around’.  There’s an entire Ghost Zone” - Wally made a disgusted sound and was promptly ignored - “but getting back and forward is rare and complicated, so you won’t see them on this side very much.”  In hindsight it wasn’t particularly surprising.  Considering their dangerous potential, ghosts would be high on several priority lists if they’d ever crossed over at detectable levels.

Dinah’s eyes moved around the gathering, inviting further questions.  “Flash is right.”  None.  Okay.  “That’s a substantial number of abilities.”  She could already see places to fit a few into their existing exercises.  “However,” right now there were more pressing matters, “there can be times when your opponent will be able to counter them - or you might not be able to use them without drawing unwanted attention to yourself.  In which case you’ll need another option.”  She appraised the ghost.  “How’s your hand-to-hand?”

A faint grimace and a glance to the Dark Knight.  “I’m working on it.”

“Show me.”  The heroine shrugged off her jacket, offering it to Green Arrow.  Arguably this was the more important part of the evaluation.  While they had eventually brought in some power-specific training for the cave-based members, combat practice and groupwork had always underpinned the Team’s main sessions.

She turned a critical eye to the newcomer as she stepped into ring.  ‘Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.’  As raw material he seemed decent.  Physically in good shape; taller and broader in the chest than Robin, not as stocky as Wally.  Hard muscled.  A little on the skinny side, though it could just be natural wiriness.  Going by span of his hands and shoulders that would probably change as he got older.  ‘If he gets older…’ She made a note to ask Batman about ghost physiology as soon as possible.  As for temperament… Green eyes were wary again, tension stiffening the line of his shoulders.  Alert, shrinking, but not overly defensive.  Timid perhaps - he’d definitely spooked a little when J’onn got close.  Or maybe just stage-fright.  He hadn’t shied away from showing teeth at Wally earlier.  She could work with that; a touch of steel went a long way on the job, and anger could be a useful tool when focussed properly.

The eyes locked onto her as she came closer, flitting down to sweep her feet, waist, hands, shoulders.  He shifted, stance widening subtly as he moved his weight forward.  He’d done the same thing to Manhunter before. ‘Interesting.’ 

She smiled, resting her hands on her hips.  “What’s your assessment?”

“What?”  The ghost’s voice cracked, ears tinting darker as he fumbled.  A throaty chuckle drifted over from Ollie and Barry’s position.

Her smile quirked dryly.  ‘Boys.’  “You evaluate your opponents,” she clarified.  “So…?”

“Oh.  Right,” he blinked, eyes returning to her with deliberate focus.  Apparently not a conscious behaviour, then.  ‘Bruce, where do you find these kids?’  “Um,” a frown.  “I don’t…” he met her gaze with an apologetic motion.  “All I know is I wouldn’t be rushing to fight you if I could avoid it.”

Well, at least he knew to pick his battles.  “I’m flattered.  Now,” she settled into a sparring stance.  “Show me.”

Phantom copied, falling into a standard ready position.  Then paused, nose wrinkling as he readjusted his footing.  Canary gave him a moment before starting, closing the remaining distance with a straight punch.  Nothing too challenging - yet - just a test of fundamentals.  The answering block was precise, though the retaliatory punch came out slower than expected.  She caught it on her wrist, sending a side-kick into the opening.  Another precise block - the force pushed him back a little, staggering slightly before he pulled back into the stance.  ‘He’s holding himself too stiff.’  The next jab was met with the same; overly precise block, slight hesitation on the return strike.  With a sigh she wove into the punch, catching his overextended arm, taking advantage of the slow response to throw him unceremoniously to the floor.

A few snickers were muffled by his Teammates.

“Relax.”  She offered a hand as he pushed himself from the ring.  “I need to see how you fight, not how well you hold your forms.”  Phantom gave a chagrined smile, floating the rest of the way upright.  She reassumed her position. “Try again.”

He nodded, dropping into a looser, wider stance.  More like a street fighter’s, though the martial root didn’t vanish entirely - almost as if he’d received basic instruction at some point before the rest.  This time she opened with a jab, followed by a quick left-hook.  A broader block knocked the first away, Phantom dodging around the second to aim a strike at her exposed shoulder.  ‘Better.’  She dropped under it into a sweep, the ghost’s jump taking him high as he sprang out of the way.  She pivoted, flowing from the crouch into a kick.  The odd angle didn’t faze him as much as expected - he caught it with a forearm, hopping back to absorb the impact. ‘Not capitalising on openings.’  She stepped to his side, intentionally dropping her guard.  The bait was taken, a compact jab snapping out at the opening, keeping his left shoulder closed.  She threw a feint at his right, changing targets to strike the offending area.  It nearly caught him; a clumsy, last-second block taking the blow but throwing him off balance, distracting the ghost long enough for the next sweep to send him back to the ground.

Embarrassed eyes blinked up at her from the floor.

“That was better,” Canary helped the teen to his feet.  “But you shouldn’t just wait for your opponent’s lead.”  His ears were still faintly green.  She stepped back.  “One more.”

A hint of reluctance touched Phantom’s stance as he readied himself for the third time. Not that Dinah could blame him; hard to keep enthused about repeated defeat in front of an audience.  She fell into position and waited, the ghost’s brow furrowing as the pause stretched between them.  The heroine raised an expectant eyebrow.  ‘Your turn.’  He hesitated, shoulders telegraphing the opening kick before it arrived.  Her arm was already posed to catch it, foot sweeping out at his supporting leg.  He seemed to expect that; a twist turned the fall into a recovery roll, a high handspring widening the gap between them.  She pursued, flowing into a pattern of strikes and kicks.  For someone with so much raw power Phantom was a surprisingly defensive fighter; blocking in wide motions or weaving away, only offering one or two strong returns before retreating back to the middle distance.  Canary skipped to the side, targeting his closed left with a similar feint.  It glanced off his shoulder, knee aiming for the meat of her thigh as he attempted to pivot around her.  ‘Fast learner.’ She almost caught him in a shoulder throw when he overreached the follow-up punch - his weight jarred against her grip as he wrenched the arm free. ‘Avoids grappling where possible.’  An attempt to step past and strike at his own back was shrugged away, the ghost ducking to snap a foot towards her ankle.  The height difference played in her favour; longer legs placing her slightly too far out for it to connect with full power.  ‘Leverage that.’  She reached, attempting to grab him in a pinning hold.  He flung himself to the side, jump putting force into height as well as distance as he came out of the roll.  White-gloved hands lifted in a small, odd motion before he caught himself, moving forward to re-engage.  Now that she thought of it, he’d done the same thing a few other times too.

“Alright.  That’s enough for now,” the heroine raised her own hands, stepping back as she called the match to a close.  Phantom froze, eyeing her worriedly.  “You did fine.”  He loosened faintly at the reassurance, straightening back to a standing position.  “Room for improvement, of course.  But from what I saw you’re already at a decent level.” She flicked a small glance and gesture of acknowledgement to the Dark Knight.  As for the rest; “It would help if you could clarify a few things for me.”

A quick nod.  “Okay.”

“Most of your experience has been with opponents larger than you?”  A given considering the average age of the Team.  Still, Phantom’s movement suggested a greater size difference than just adolescent-adult.

Another nod.  “There are a couple my size, but yeah, mostly.”  His lips pursed.  “A lot of them weren’t exactly human either.”

“I assume that’s why you avoid close quarters?”  It made sense if he was effectively handling large animals.  Too close without specialised training was a recipe for getting mauled.  ‘Explains the broadness as well.’  Moves like that cost endurance in a prolonged fight but precise forms and anatomic knowledge were hardly priorities when dealing with non-humanoids.

“That’s…” The ghost’s brow furrowed, “That’s part of it, I guess.  Normally, though… if it got as far as actual fighting, I’d be using my powers.  Easier to get a clear shot when there’s space.”

“If it got as far as actual fighting?”

“Well - you know,” he shrugged, rubbing his neck self-consciously, “invisibility, intangibility… overshadowing.  Sometimes it’s better to just get past or get it over with quickly.”

“I see.”  Canary bit the inside of her cheek.  ‘Conflict control.’  She’d misread the point of his approach.  Not entirely surprising - even among the League, a power combination like Phantom’s was rare; Manhunter had the capacity for espionage but little by way of direct offense, Superman and Captain Atom the firepower without the stealth.  Combine the two and… ‘Less reactive than I thought.’  Chance partnership or not, Batman and Robin’s own techniques made them an unexpectedly decent match as sponsors.  The trick now, she supposed, would be finding ways to improve his short-range skills that didn’t hamper the use of those powers.

And speaking of powers; “Most of your combat is aerial, isn’t it?”  Outside of fighting on very uneven or unstable ground, there was no reason for jumps to put so much force into height.  In straight combat that kind of move would be nothing more than a liability.  But with flight a universal ability among his kind…

“Against other ghosts, yeah.”

The heroine nodded, casting her eyes around the group.  It wasn’t strictly necessary, but-

“M’gann?”

Miss Martian startled.  “Yes, Black Canary?” 

She beckoned.  “Could you come here, please?”

“Uh - sure.  Of course.”  The telepath’s forehead creased as she complied, darting over to join them in the circle.  Phantom’s eyebrows crept upwards.

Dinah looked between the confused faces.  “I’d be interested to see how you fight when off the ground.”  She could have asked J’onn - in fact, Manhunter would probably have provided more control - but, considering his earlier reaction, she doubted it would have been good for Phantom’s nerves.  Or his performance.  Besides, this was a good opportunity to test M’gann too.  “If you’re both comfortable with that?”

A small glance was shared.  Then two murmurs of assent.

“Alright.”  She raised a hand, typing into the holo-interface that Red Tornado helpfully opened.  The colour of the light shifted as a score box appeared beside each teen.  “Standard sparring rules, only aerial.  No powers except flight, no going beyond the ring, points awarded for clean hits and pins, points deducted for unsafe strikes - and, in this case, also for touching the ground.  First to five takes the match.  Okay?”  Identical nods.  The heroine stepped back, “Then let’s begin.”

The pair pulled apart as they rose into the air, feet stopping to hover around Canary’s eyeline.  It was interesting, she observed, to see the difference even before they started.  For all he might be anxious about their audience, Phantom held himself with a lot more familiarity once off the ground.  M’gann, meanwhile, seemed less certain.

A pause stretched. Both hung in place, sizing each other up cautiously, neither willing to initiate the attack.  On the sidelines, Robin cleared his throat with pointed amusement.  Dinah thought she saw Phantom give a silent sigh, green eyes flashing the Martian an apologetic look.  Then he surged forward.

M’gann’s arm came up to deflect the strike - Canary recognised the block from a previous lesson - curling and flying backwards out of the way.  The ghost followed, heading higher to bear down from above.  She caught on quickly, darting out from under him to avoid being forced to the floor.  Not quite quickly enough to escape, though - the counter ticked over as Phantom twisted to land a clean tag on her shoulder blade before she made it clear.  If it had been visible at the start, the difference became more obvious as he pursued; Phantom was already beginning to assert control over the match.  A second strike was scored - this time a kick to the side of her hip - before M’gann settled into the situation, sending a retaliatory punch into his upper leg as it withdrew.  He twitched but didn’t stagger.  One of the difficulties of aerial combat - fewer effective target points.  Miss Martian pressed forward anyway, trying to take advantage of the slight hitch.  The ghost rose to avoid it, flipping overhead to get behind her again, legs blurring as her pivot forced him to continue the dive down-

“Phantom.”

Both combatants came to a stop.

Black Canary raised her eyebrows, looking pointedly at the smoke-like trail smearing below his belt.  “Physical and flight only.”

The spirit froze as he followed her gaze, face collapsing into an embarrassed grimace.  “Oh h-” he bit his tongue, vapour solidifying back into legs and boots.  “I wasn’t…”  his nose wrinkled, ears burning green, “it just happens if I’m not thinking about it.  Sorry.”

M’gann studied the change with interest.  “I didn’t know you could shapeshift too.”

“I can’t, really.”  Phantom drifted upwards, rising back to a more neutral position.  “That’s about as far as it goes.”

A gentle cough pulled their attention back to their combat trainer.  “So long as it doesn’t happen again.”  Mistakes happened; it didn’t sit right to punish the ghost for a minor slip in control.  Not on the first pass, anyway.  “I’ll have to take points for future use.  Alright?”

More nods. 

With a hand-wave she motioned them to continue.

Miss Martian opened the second, throwing the full force of her flight behind the punch.   A shudder ran up Phantom’s shoulders as his forearms took the impact, dropping like a stone before twisting neatly, arching towards her back.  She spun to keep track; fast enough to startle him, it seemed - a blue-gloved fist finding its mark in the opening left as his strike faltered.  ‘2:2’.  He jolted, jack-knifing his body to the side to disengage, rising further in attempt to retake the high ground.  M’gann gave chase to avoid being pinned. 

A series of aerial manoeuvres followed.  Of the two Phantom was the more acrobatic flyer - a third point scored as he feinted to the left, rolling over to tag her exposed shoulder as she moved to block.  Whether that was down to experience, or a difference in how their flight worked, Canary wasn’t sure.   He followed it up with a fourth strike, jinking over her shoulder in a repeat of the earlier dive, connecting a light, clean punch to her lower ribs on the way past.  Miss Martian was getting wise to it, however - the heel of her boot drove down into the ghost’s stomach as he passed below.  A quiet grunt escaped.  She pushed forward, trying to keep the upper ground, using her slight height advantage to keep him from closing.  A near miss - Phantom rolled in mid-air, her strike skimming off his upper arm.  It left her upper chest exposed.  ‘He could have taken that.’  Some deft flying brought him back to level, though M’gann managed to hold the terms; positioning herself so that he was forced to meet her head on.  ‘Smart.’  For a split-second he hesitated.  His next kick came out broad, slow.  ‘He’s telegraphing.’  Dinah frowned, watching M’gann knock it away with relative ease.  Phantom pushed aside the answering knee, flicking a light tag towards her open stomach.  Another easy deflection.  ‘Is he…?’ 

A third exchange and the ghost changed tactics, pulling just far enough back to be out of reach.  Miss Martian darted forward to reengage, snapping out a flat-handed strike.  It barely grazed him, fingers slipping past as he moved away.  She paused for a moment, suspicious, before launching into a kick.  Again he retreated.  Her eyes narrowed, mouth thinning as she stretched into a punch.  Phantom moved.  White-gloved fingers caught and restrained the fist, the ghost flipping overhead to tap his own firmly between her shoulder blades.

The end-match alert sounded. 

They separated, dropping back to the ground with good grace.

Phantom brushed a rueful hand over his stomach.  “Nice kick.”  She gave a tiny shrug, trying not to look too pleased with herself.

Their focus moved back to Black Canary.

“You both did well.”  She’d have to consult with J’onn about the quality of the flying itself, but even without it the match had revealed several new pieces of both their strategies.  “However…”  Including some unfortunate ones.  She turned to the ghost.  “Pulling punches for safety is fine but you don’t help yourself or your partner by holding back.”  She hadn’t missed his reluctance to strike at the Martian’s front.  Whether from courtesy, anxiety, or a misplaced attempt at chivalry, it was a bad habit to ingrain through practice.

Chagrin creased the spirit’s face as M’gann’s smile fell slightly awry.   

“I-” he winced, “I wasn’t…” Fingers scraped pleadingly at the back of his neck.  “It’s just…  You, uh-” with a pained breath he trailed off, hand making an inarticulate motion.  “Sorry.”

“Deliberate or not, it’s not a good idea to go soft on an opponent.  Especially when you don’t know what they’re capable of.”  Dinah spared the Martian a consoling smile, “You did well to work with it.  Ego aside, there’s no shame in taking an advantage if someone hands it to you.”  She saw Phantom mouth a second apology as the telepath relaxed, mollified.  ‘Back to business.’  “I’m starting to understand your blocking style.  How do you usually keep track of enemies in the air?”

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, a speedster had other priorities.

Wally gritted his teeth, barely listening as Black Canary talked the pair through manoeuvring.  Okay, he got it - bad form to call the new guy a liar on day one.  But seriously?  Everyone was just going to go with it.  No questioning anything at all?

Fine.

It hadn’t been a hard bout, but it was enough to have M’gann’s breathing up slightly.  Exactly the chance to find what he was looking for. 

He reached for his goggles - ignoring the questioning look Uncle Barry sent his way.  As he tugged them down a small voice in his head pointed out that it was probably pointless - no way the Batman would’ve cleared this without running tests.  He pushed that aside too, flicking an irate glance at the Boy Wonder.  All eyes on new-kid, just like everybody else.  Well whatever.  If Dick wasn’t going to spill then he’d just have to get the evidence for himself.

With a button press he switched over to thermals, room swirling into an array of blues and reds.  Most of the group were standard yellow, hot scarlet cores fading out to the appendages, varying slightly with the suits.  Little warmer for Conner, little cooler for M’gann, Manhunter and Kaldur.  ‘Okay, so, normal.’  Two major exceptions.  Tornado; metal skin room-temperature blue, slivers of green peeking through the joints from his inner workings.  ‘Typical android.’  And… Phantom.  Deep, dark blue at the centre of the chest, extremities only slightly greener than the rest of the room.  ‘Cryokinetic, right.’  No big deal - he’d probably get the same result throwing the filter on Icicle or Frost.  Didn’t prove anything. 

Besides…  He thumbed the edge of his goggles - earning another glance from Flash - to sharpen the focus.  Dude was breathing; he could see the movement in his shoulders, the rise and fall of the chest.  Slower than average, sure, but that wasn’t impossible - even without powers, the right conditioning could produce some serious efficiency.  Same thing with heart-

Wait.

He changed targets, focussing in on Robin’s collar.  Then on Artemis.  Then on Canary.  For all of them there was a pattern; a faint rhythmic fluctuation at the cores, tiny waves of red flaring outwards on a regular beat.  Phantom’s, meanwhile, stayed uniform, a steady gradient from blue to green, shifting only when he moved.   ‘That’s…’  No.  No way.  Any large-scale organism needed a functioning circulatory system to survive.  And he was breathing.  It’d picked up after sparring - had to be respiration, right?  Newbie needed oxygen.  But without something to carry it…  He flipped over to M’gann, Conner, Kaldur.  Slightly different heat-signatures, slightly different fluctuations.   All pulsing.   Back to Phantom.  Nothing.  ‘That’s not possible.’  No animalian physiology would work.  It couldn’t - it shouldn’t-

Kid Flash had gone grey.

Heads began to turn around the circle, central conversation petering out as the older speedster reached for his nephew’s shoulder.

Wally pushed his goggles slowly back up - eyes too wide, unnerved - watching Phantom like someone who’d just uncovered a corpse.

For a moment irritation flickered at the back of the ghost’s expression.  Then faded, genuine concern filtering in as seconds dragged on without response.

“Hey,” he took a cautious step forward, question coinciding with a quiet ‘Kid?’ from Flash, “you okay?”

Wally tensed, still eyeing Phantom as though expecting him to lash out and bite.  His throat bobbed, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.  An unintelligible mutter made its way free.  Across the ring Conner jolted, turning to stare at the newcomer with wide eyes of his own.

The teen’s brow furrowed.  “Didn’t quite catch that, sorry,” he moved again - Kid Flash backed away further, green gaze still a little wild.  “You okay?”

“Your heart’s not beating!”  It burst out as a panicked-tinged shout.

Everyone froze.

Phantom winced, posture collapsing into the grimace as shock echoed around the ring.  The others began to stir, glances and aborted murmurs building up, attention swirling to concentrate on the spirit.  White-gloved fingers were raised to his face, covering his eyes as he thumbed at his temples.  The hand moved upwards, ruffling through his fringe with a long exhale.

It dropped back to his side.

“Wally,” the evenness of his tone drained some of the tension from the room, “I’m a ghost.  I don’t technically need most of my organs.”

“And yet you have them?”  Tornado’s flat question cut though the space, almost more a statement of fact.

Tension returned as Phantom froze again, a second, smaller wince crossing his face.  “Uh, yeah.”  He tugged his ear. “So… what I was saying before - about me being different to other ghosts?”  The android’s head tilted.  “It’s that.  The way I- well,” he cleared his throat abruptly, “point is I’m a lot more human than most.”

Flash cautiously removed his hand from Wally’s arm.  “What kind of things are we talking about here?”

The ghost’s forehead creased, lips pulling together.  “Anatomy mostly, I suppose.  Other than that…”  he ducked his head, scrubbing a palm over the back of this neck, “I can survive on regular food, I still need air, water, sleep - even if it’s not as much.”  A small shrug.  “Can get injured in the same ways too, under the right circumstances,” he snorted, mouth twitching, “or seriously wrong ones, I guess, in that case.”

“But no heartbeat?”

Whatever amusement there was faded from his face.  He chewed his lip, eyes turning guarded.  “Ghosts have cores,” he answered finally.  “Sort of does that and a couple other jobs for us.”

Dinah reassembled her thoughts in the silence that followed, taking stock of the gathering.  Initial shock was fading but an undercurrent of unease still pervaded the room; she could see it in the faint tapping of Barry’s foot, the angle of J’onn’s eyebrows as he looked over to Batman.  Ollie’s fingers repeatedly smoothed his goatee.  The Dark Knight and Boy Wonder remained unaffected - Robin sending Phantom a commiserating look.  The Team was… taking it better, if only by a little.  Over to the side Zatanna and Artemis appeared to be having a silent conversation.  If not for the faint angle of his forehead, Kaldur would seem completely recovered; how much was genuine and how much practiced diplomacy, she wasn’t sure.  Conner was still watching the ghost as though he held the answers to several questions.  From the movement of his eyes she suspected he might be ‘talking’ to M’gann.  After Kaldur, the Martian had reacted the least - smile still friendly despite the jittery curiosity beneath.

Wally was… calmer.  Not that that was saying much.

Heads turned in her direction as she spoke.  “We appreciate the warning.”  She could hardly blame them - even pre-warned, Kid Flash’s reaction had caught her off guard.  The note was clear in Batman’s file, but until then she’d put it to the back of her mind.  “The Cave already accommodates for human needs.”  A gentle echo of a smile, “Obviously.”  Easier to focus elsewhere; on the effects, things she could work to impact and change.

Speaking of which…

“Alright.  Well,” Canary brought her hands together again.  Much as she’d have liked to finish the assessment, the energy in the room left little chance of anyone remaining comfortable as pure observers much longer.  “That’s more than enough to start from, I think.”  Best to move on - progress to something more involved.  Another sweep of the room.  “Any final questions before we begin training?”

A few uncomfortable beats followed.

Flash broke it. The elder speedster tilted his head, peering at the spectre.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, kid,” she could hear him skipping over other, harder, topics, “but you glow.”  It was hard to see amidst the light from the ring but while up in the air the white aura became more noticeable.  What it would be like in the dark… “How’s that going to shake out on stealth missions?”  Barry squinted at the newcomer again, thumbing his chin in thought.  “Unless you’re planning to stay invisible the whole time…?”

Robin was the one to answer.  “Already got a fix.”  He gave a faint grin, tilting his chin towards the ghost.

Phantom hesitated before reaching up to press the silver insignia. With only a few feet between them, Canary was close enough to hear the faint sound of stealth-tech activation, charcoal grey spreading to swallow the whites of the suit.  As it vanished it took his glow with it; the holograms’ upwards shadows shifted and darkened across his form, glow from the eyes and paleness of his hair more prominent in the absence of the backlit aura.  It grounded him in an odd way.  Made him more… solid somehow.

“Also blocks ecto-signatures,” the Boy Wonder’s grin took on a vaguely smug edge - most of which seemed to be directed at the ghost, “just in case someone’s sensors are scanning in that range.”

“Even when active, the suit itself can still be tracked by us.”  Batman’s addition was definitely for the sake of their colleagues’ earlier concerns.

Unease faded further as attention shifted, moving to the uniform over the person who wore it.  Easier terms to handle; just another suit, another recruit, another set of abilities with their own applications and limits.  All that focus needed was a little momentum, something to keep them moving forward instead of cycling back to dwell on implications.

‘Okay then.’  “If there aren’t any more questions…” - no response - “I think we’ll start training.”  The Team moved forward as she beckoned.  “We won’t have enough time for a proper free-spar,” that was a lie - there would be if they pushed.  But with a newcomer complicating things - “so today will be technical.  We’ll do a round of one-on-one matches as warm-up.  After that, there are some advanced holds and throws that can be useful when you need to subdue an enemy quickly.  Time allowing I’d like to finish with a review of the paired manoeuvres you practiced last session.”  Murmurs of assent.  ‘Paired spars…’  Perhaps there was a way to work in the end of the assessment after all.  Dinah quickly ran through groupings in her head.

“Alright…  Conner, could you go with Robin?”  That one was mostly for Superboy’s benefit; larger opponents made up most of Robin’s experience, but Conner could stand to improve his fine control.  And without Clark to watch there was less cost to missteps - less pride on the line, or reason for a partner to try and spare it.

Two nods.

“Artemis, you’ll start with Zatanna.”  Pairing preoccupation with preoccupation wasn’t ideal, but their focus seemed to be running in the same direction and both were familiar enough with the other’s style to prevent any serious mishaps.  If nothing else it would give Ollie something to do.

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“Wally.” The speedster was still distracted.  “I’d like to see how you work with Kaldur.”  Pure diplomacy; Aqualad could by no means be called a pity-pairing and, between his level-headedness and how long he’d worked with Kid Flash, she could trust him to keep things under control.  Provide a challenging enough match to hold his attention without making things needlessly frustrating.  ‘Right on time too.’  Wally followed almost mechanically, not even making the obvious comment before falling in step with the Atlantean.  In other circumstances she might have appreciated it.

Which left her last two free. 

“You know the drill,” she addressed the others.  “Usual rules: stay within your marked space, matches end when the timer runs out.  Remember, these are warm-ups; I don’t want anyone overreaching themselves in the early rounds.”  Nods from all but one pair.  “Phantom. M’gann.”  Both looked to her, confused. “I’d like to see another aerial match while I’ve got you here.  Afterwards you’ll rotate to new partners.  Alright?”  Their expressions cleared. 

Border-lines and score-boxes shimmered into existence around each duo as Tornado moved a hand. 

“Then begin.”

The ring stirred into motion.

More movement at the periphery - half lost behind the flurry of strikes and dodges -  as her colleagues shifted around the edge to better spectate their protégés.  Dinah saw Barry bite back a call as Kaldur stepped through a particularly wide opening to land a smart tap on Wally’s chest, right in the middle of his logo.  The younger speedster’s eyes narrowed, homing in on the Atlantean as he redoubled his efforts.  ‘Good.’

J’onn wandered towards her, head tilting to follow the two in the air.

“So, what do you think?”  She kept the question low enough not to carry.

“Hmm.” He matched her pitch, still watching the duo.  “He flies well.  A little imprecise, perhaps, but there is potential.  It will be a good opportunity for M’gann, I think.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

Manhunter made a considering sound.  “For flying?  Difficult.  Our flight is an extension of our telekinesis - there may be little overlap in technique.”  A pause.  “The Lanterns may be better able to offer advice.  Or perhaps even…” he trailed off, eyes moving significantly in Conner’s direction.

Dinah bit the inside of her cheek.  “I think I’ll leave that to Batman’s discretion.”

A hum.  “That may be wise.”

Other voices reached them - Ollie and Barry had converged on the Dark Knight, all three drifting close enough to be with earshot.

“… if I’d known,” Bruce was speaking, “I would have briefed you.  As it was, I was hoping to keep this low-profile.”

She didn’t need to turn around to see Arrow’s eyebrow lifting.  “Alright.  Why?”

“Anti-ectoplasmic sentiment among other things.  I’d prefer he didn’t become widely known among the League.”

“You think someone would…?” Flash sounded vaguely affronted.

“No - I doubt it.  But the general public may not be so generous were it to leak.”  Unfortunately precedented; it wouldn’t be the first time an ‘alien’ member had drawn unkind speculation.  And with ‘ghosts’ already soured in the public eye…  A finite note entered Batman’s voice.  “I don’t want to risk exposing someone to that if we have the choice.”

“That bad…?”

“Maybe worse if it reached the wrong ears.”

There was a breath of silence, broken only by the sounds from the ring.  She half-turned, watching them in the corner of her vision.

Batman used the break to signal Robin about his form.  “Putting that aside for now, what do you think?”

“I don’t know.”  Ollie tugged at his beard, cheek pinching thoughtfully.  “It’s… a lot to take in.”

Barry made a noise of agreement, head turning to study the ghost once more.  “I can see what you mean, though - plenty of recon’ potential in powers like that.”

“And for the rest of the Team?”

The speedster shrugged, thumbing the side of his jaw.  “Don’t know.  Seems like a good enough kid...”

A slightly strained chuckle from Arrow.  “Had stubborner, that’s for sure.”

Flash snorted sympathetically.  “Guess we’ll wait and see.”  There was a sigh - rueful, apologetic - as he rubbed his face, hand brushing over his earpiece as he watched the ring.

Well,” Canary didn’t need to turn to see where the speedster was looking, “provided those two don’t kill each other first.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: Black Gold

A camera started rolling.

The scene it revealed was not a pretty sight.  

A crowd of people huddled on the scuffed tiles of an emptied-out room.  Harsh fluorescent light glared off pale laminate walls, leaching away all but the strongest colours.  For a moment it looked like a piece of old film.  Unnatural.  Unreal.

Whoever was behind the camera began a slow pan across, focus blurring and resharpening,  capturing details with an air of twisted satisfaction.  The featureless room gave no clues to location but dark hair and eyes marked many of the captives as Southeast Asian.  Workers; hard muscled and suntanned beneath the washed-out glow, possibly in construction based on the matched sets of coveralls and heavy boots.  The occasional safety vest stood out with neon intensity amid the mass of T-shirts and toughened blue cloth.  Though well-maintained, the clothes had seen wear - oily stains dotted the fabric, white-ish powder crusted on in ribbony lines.  Sweat made dark patches of collars and armpits.

If the clothing had seen better days, the men inside were worse.  Frightened eyes peered from within shadowed circles, scrapes and blooming bruises scattered across a handful of mouths and cheekbones.  Arms and shoulders were twisted at uncomfortable angles, pinned behind their backs by cruelly tightened restrains.  Many sat stiffly, holding themselves as upright as their bindings would allow, expressions deliberately blank despite the rigid muscles beneath.  Others had slumped forward, hopeless gazes directed to their knees.  A few had crumpled, folding into their colleagues sides or pressing foreheads prayer-like to the floor, sheltered and supported by the bodies of their peers.  Nervous glances to camera.  Sharp, shallow breaths.  Twitches rippled through the group, eyes darting to track every movement like animals in a cage. Exhausted.  Afraid.

The cause was obvious.  Figures in dark jumpsuits prowled the edges of the room, faces concealed beneath formless black hoods.  Straps of leather and metal held the fabric tight against their bodies, gloves and boots standing out in bloody, eerie red.  They said nothing; no orders, no shouting, not even a whispered threat.  There was no need.  The assortment of heavy weapons aimed at the prisoners spoke loudly enough.

Another person stepped into frame.  A peak-shouldered vest set them apart from the other captors; scarlet bright against the dark cloth beneath.  Their hands were unburdened by weapons; thick bands of red-etched dark metal clinching their gloves at the wrist.  Similar straps looped over their shoulders, holding something unseen behind their back.

The leader.

“This is the Zijilker offshore rig.”  His voice was muffled by the mask and an accent, crackling faintly with audio-static, but the message was clear.  “You know who we are.  For years you have ignored us, but now you will listen.”

He shifted to the side - allowing the camera to focus on the frightened huddle of prisoners - before moving back into the centre.  “Our demands.” Each word was enunciated precisely as he leaned towards the lens.  “You will transfer ownership of this rig and its profits to the local governments.  You will end all current and future probing in this region.”  His face twisted beneath the mask.  “No longer will your corporations,” he spat the word like poison, “exploit the resources and environments of our nations.”

A pause. 

“You have fourteen days,” anger hid itself behind a calm that was somehow more dangerous.  “Attempt to re-take the rig and we will use force.  Seek military aid and we will use force.  Delay and we will use force.”  Behind them one of the hostages stirred, moaning loud enough to reach the speakers.  The speech stopped.  Everyone froze as one of the captors peeled away from the wall, surrounding prisoners trying urgently to quieten their companion as he approached.  He rammed the man with his gun-butt, glaring a warning at the others before stalking back to his post.  Silence fell. 

The leader turned to the camera once more.

“If you value the health of your workers you will not keep us waiting.”

Batman paused the footage.

“They call themselves the Black Dragons.  An extremist group operating throughout the East and South China Sea.”  The Dark Knight gestured to the image on Mission Room’s display.  “Five days ago this video was sent to the rig owner, Petroil’s headquarters in Houston and The Hague.”

A bleak hush followed as the Team processed the news, gathered in a loose half-circle around their supervisor.  Miss Martian’s fingers pressed against her mouth, stare fixed on the place where the worker had been struck, Superboy’s arms folded stiff and tight beside her.  Zatanna’s lips were pursed, nostrils flared beneath wide eyes.  Schooled neutrality on Aqualad’s face was betrayed by the flat, angry line of his mouth; an expression mirrored by Robin a few feet away.  To his right, Kid Flash scowled openly at the screen.  At the edge of the group Phantom bit the inside of his cheek, features drawn in anxious furrows as his toe pressed into the floor. 

Behind them Wolf snuffled, supremely unconcerned by either the briefing or by Sphere rolling lazy circles around where he slept.

Which still left one. Artemis tilted her head, brow creasing with careful scepticism.  “And we’re sure this is real?  They didn’t, you know,” the archer gestured hopefully as she peered at the screen, “get some people into work clothes or something and put them in a room as a fake-out?”

“Best-case as that would have been, no.  The rig has been unreachable through both regular and emergency channels since the message arrived, and Petroil’s Human Resources team has positively identified several captives as employees assigned to the current roster.  The footage is genuine.”  The Dark Knight’s fingers tapped across the holo-board, opening a collection of smaller windows.  A handful of images; enlarged crops of the video stills, slightly grainy even with enhancement.  Red boxes highlighted the clearest faces in each, additional windows lining up matches to licence photos and employee profiles.   A longer list of names materialised to one side, red text burning on the entries of the known hostages.  Others greyed themselves out as their supervisor continued, “Attempts have been made to individually confirm all workers on the Zijilker project but so far responses have only been received from on-shore employees.”  Batman’s eyes moved up and down the list before turning back, grim.  “Forty-eight workers are currently registered as on rotation on the rig.  The Black Dragons are refusing to release control until their demands are met.”

“Alright,” Kid Flash frowned. “So, hostage situation.  But where do we factor in?  Don’t get me wrong,” he raised his palms quickly at the Dark Knight’s look, “I want to help these people, it’s just… this seems like the kind of thing governments and police would be all over.”

Their supervisor inclined his head.  “Usually, yes.  But the situation is complicated.”  A few more clicks brought up a map, zooming in on a cluster of islands to the west of the Philippines.  “The Zijilker oil rig is a fixed tower operation on a shallow ridge near the Spratly Islands.”  The map pulled back out, surrounding nations changing colour as lines marked out overlapping maritime boundaries.  “The archipelago and surrounding waters are heavily contested due to conflicting territory claims.  At least five nations hold military, political or economic sway over different areas.  The entire region is a diplomatic deadlock.”

“And no-one wants to tip the balance,” Robin concluded.  With a flick of his wrist he opened his own holo-board, scrolling rapidly through conflict reports and treaty records.  “Guess that explains the lack of military intervention.  And how the rig was exposed enough to be a target at all.”

An approving nod from the Dark Knight.  “Exactly.  Even if any of the nations were willing to concede to terrorism, the Black Dragon’s demands aren’t achievable.  There is no ‘local government’, and signing it over to any one risks setting a precedent for future conflicts.   That the rig can exist at all without upsetting the balance took a near-unheard-of level of negotiation.”  He paused, looking to Robin again, “The same is true for military intervention.  No-one wants to set a precedent, and a joint taskforce would take longer than we have to arrange.  And, unfortunately,” a frustrated breath through the nose, “the nature of the resource and strategic value of the region makes external military involvement unlikely to be accepted.”

“Hence the League,” Kaldur nodded his understanding.  “As an independent not-for-profit operating under UN charter you would be able to mobilise quickly, without accusations of greater political or financial motive.”  The Atlantean thought for a moment. “But why bring this to the Team specifically?”

Batman spared their leader a small, proud glance before sobering.  “Two reasons.  First, the Justice League is too visible.  This is a delicate situation - we cannot risk adding media pressure, or giving the Black Dragons’ message access to legitimate platforms.  A full press embargo is already in effect for this reason.  Second,” his voice and face hardened further as a second video was opened, “is this.  After the rig failed to respond to communications, a coastguard vessel was granted permission for an investigative run.  The boat was repelled on approach, by some kind of… unidentified seismic weapon, according to personnel reports.  The next day, Petroil received another message.”

He hit play.

If the first video was quiet, this one was loud.  Panicked murmurs swirled in the background, rising to a fever pitch, cries and shouts of protest spiking and choking off as the leader leaned into the camera once more, black mask almost swallowing the screen. 

“You were warned.”

A red-gloved hand reached towards the camera - the etchings on their wristbands pulsed with scarlet light - turning it as they stepped to the side.  Behind them, a pair of Dragons were forcing one of the workers to his knees.

“No boats.  No military.”

More pleas in the background.  The man was shaking.  His blue coveralls were pulling open, a faded grey shirt poking through the zip.  Oily fingerprints marked the collar.  Short dark hair was plastered to his neck, the rest slicking into damp spikes.  He struggled.

“Eleven days.  Delay and there will be more.  Seek help and there will be more.  Approach the rig in any way - there will be more.  Do not disappoint us.”

The Dragons’ hands were clamped around the prisoner’s arms, pushing downward.  His mouth moved - begging, praying, it wasn’t clear.  The whites of his eyes were stark against a bloodless face, wide enough to form a full ring around the edges.  His irises were black against them, blown out under the lights, pupils huge with panic.  Sweat beaded in the lines of his forehead, trickling along the ridge of his eyebrow.

“Their suffering is on your heads.”

There was an oddly familiar mechanical noise.  The Dragons leapt aside.  For a moment everything seemed frozen; the man struggling to rise, the helpless distress on the other captives’ faces.

A dark shape flew through the air. 

Red light crackled.

Batman stopped the recording a second after the scream. 

“I won’t ask you to watch the rest.” The mission room was silent. “But you understand our concerns. We now know the Dragons are willing - eager even - to follow through with their threats at any perceived provocation.  There’s no reason to believe they won’t do so again.

“On its own that’s not insurmountable.   Several of the League’s members would be able carry out to a rapid strike - contain the situation before the Dragons could respond.  However,” they could almost feel it coming, “there’s another problem.”

He began framing back through the footage.  It was painful to watch; agony on the man’s face twisting in reverse, red lightning pulling back into bolts, then shards, then vanishing altogether.  On the next frame a dark red disk with a familiar triangle marking hung suspended in the air.

Several people breathed in sharply.

“Hold up-”

“Wait-” No-one knew who spoke first.  “Is that-”

An angry grinding noise behind them; Sphere had left Wolf, drawn over by the sounds from the console.  She pushed through the line to stop beside Superboy, faceplate fixed on the screen as she issued a series of harsh metallic beeps.

“Apokoliptan,” Conner scowled in agreement.  “But how’d they get it?  Intergang?”

“We suspect so, yes.  Of the known traffickers of New Gods’ technology, they’re most likely to sell on the black market.  That’s where we believe it was acquired.”

Stirring at the edge of the group.

“You have a question, Phantom?”

The ghost startled.  “Uh, no, not really - sorry, it’s…” he tried to wave it off with a small, tight shrug.   Heads turned as Batman waited expectantly.  “Just…” an uncomfortable breath, “how does something like this happen?  They say they’ve been around for years, right?  But suddenly they come out of nowhere, cutting deals with what, illegal black-market alien-tech-dealers, to take a whole oil rig hostage?  How come they didn’t get stopped before this?”

The rest considered.  “You know, he’s got a point,” Zatanna muttered over Wally’s huff.

A weary noise from their supervisor.  “The truth is no one expected them to become a threat. You’re correct,” he inclined his head towards the newcomer, “the Black Dragons have existed in some capacity for several years now, but for most of that time as self-proclaimed activist group.  Confrontational and aggressive, with a particular grudge against bad environmental practices and Western corporations in specific, but largely just a nuisance.   Petty vandalism, roadblocks, trespassing, publicity stunts...  Not legal, exactly, but not particularly destructive.  Until recently, local authorities were able to keep things under control - that’s why they didn’t get coverage outside the region.”

“So, what changed?”  Artemis asked the obvious question.

“We’re not sure.  They’ve been vocally against the rig as far back as exploratory probing, but it’s only in the last six months that things became concerning.  In the last three, dangerous.”  The Dark Knight paused.  “It could be that they’ve gotten desperate.  It could be new management - their handful of publicly-known supporters have been pulling away, even though they won’t say why.”

Kid Flash made a thoughtful sound.  “Black-market Apokoliptan tech’… that’s some serious guap for an eco-terrorist group.  You think they got a sponsor?”

“It’s possible, yes.  They may also have traded stolen goods - one warehouse reported several barrels of refined oil missing from stocks after a recent Dragons’ raid.”

The archer snorted.  “So they’re hypocrites.”

“They’re dangerous extremists,” Batman’s eyebrows lifted beneath the cowl.  “Did you expect anything different?”

“What is our objective?”  Aqualad pulled them back on topic.

The room’s focus sharpened as their supervisor drew himself up.  “Obviously, the safety of the hostages is our foremost concern.  The problem is, we don’t know enough.  We don’t know how many hostiles there are.  We don’t know what other weaponry they might have.  What we do know is that they can cause a large amount of damage very quickly, and are willing to do so at even a hint of threat.”

His eyes swept over each of them.  “This is a covert recon and rescue mission.  You have the Bioship.  You also have the New Genesphere - one of our best available counters against Apokoliptan technology.”  Sphere beeped firmly in affirmation.  “The Team is to board the rig and report on the situation; find out exactly what we’re dealing with, locate and secure the hostages if possible.  Unless unavoidable, do not engage the enemy.  Aquaman and Martian Manhunter are on standby in the area.  Once recon is complete, you are to hand the intelligence, and the situation over to them.  They will handle the return of the workers, and the press.”

Several Team members exclaimed in process.

“Please understand,” from the contours of the mask, Batman may have closed his eyes.  “The League has no desire to take credit from the Team.  However-”

“Our covert unit works best with the element of surprise,” Kaldur’s acknowledgement was diplomatic, if not entirely pleased.  “Publicity would only hurt our effectiveness.”

“Plus, it wouldn’t look good for the League to be seen relying on ‘sidekicks’,” Conner’s mutter was a little more mutinous.

The Atlantean gave a resigned nod.  “This way, everyone benefits.”

Murmurs and grumbles continued for a moment before slowly dying down, falling reluctantly in line with their leader.  At the edge of the group, Phantom released a quiet, relieved breath.

The Dark Knight’s gaze swept them once more.  “Any questions?”

Silence.

“Alright.  Manhunter and Aquaman are already waiting.  Gear up and move out.”

The Bioship flew low over the ocean, camouflaged skin blending with the waves.  They’d made contact at the archipelago before departure, but even at a steady cruising speed they’d been travelling over water for over half an hour.  Anything resembling dry land had been left behind somewhere around the 15-minute mark; endless water spreading out in all directions.  The horizon was a featureless, unbroken line around them, darkening sky stretching in a perfect half-sphere, disturbed only by scatters of wispy cloud.  Below them the sea rolled, swelling into slow peaks and troughs, the occasional white-cap foaming where cross-winds disturbed the surface.

Inside the cockpit most eyes were fixed on the communications array, watching as signals dropped away.  A few minutes earlier, M’gann confirmed the shore had passed completely out of telepathic range.  Radio-comms were down to local circuits and emergency lines.  Wireless and telephone networks miles from existence.  Somewhere above them was the Watchtower - its satellite link holding steady at four bars - but with any responding heroes well-beyond the horizon the connection offered little comfort. 

At the back of the ship, Sphere vibrated quietly.

The Zijilker rig loomed out of the twilight.  Metal towers speared the ocean, interlocked girders rising from the seabed to support a two-tiered deck fused from roughly rectangular sections.  A strip of walkway wrapped around the right hand side of the lower level, a few windows dotted sporadically around the enclosed sections of the top floor.  The rest was featureless metal, ribbed and treated for protection against the salt winds.  Most of the upper deck opened to the sky, guarded by handrails and barriers, housing the machinery of the operation.  A helipad and pulley system spread out past the floor below, suspended perilously over the waves.

It blazed against the sky.  Below-deck floodlights were cranked to full brightness, drowning the sea in blinding glare for yards in each direction, burning white along the tops of the waves.  Air-safety beacons dotted the cranes and drill towers, stretching up towards the early stars.  Darkness pooled across the platforms beneath, windows and walkways black and empty, support towers making twisted shadows on the water.

Miss Martian’s voice sounded from the pilot’s chair.  “Beginning approach now.” 

The atmosphere in the cockpit sharpened.

M’gann pulled them into a steady dive, dropping as close to the water as wake turbulence would allow.  Even camouflaged, the ship would still cast a shadow.  Floodlights pierced through the bridge windows, throwing harsh beams across the consoles.   Around the seats the Team winced, screwing up their faces or lifting hands to shield their eyes.

Phantom tensed, half-rising from his chair, free hand hovering over the nearest panel.  “No offence,” green eyes were anxious slits, “but is camouflage going to hold in light like this?”  His fingers vanished in patches, hesitating less than an inch above the surface.

On the other side of the bridge, Wally made a dismissive sound.

“It will be fine.”  Aqualad was a steady silhouette near the front.  “We only need to get beneath the deck.  Then we will be covered.”

A few more moments passed before the glare began to subside.  There was a collective sigh as they passed to the other side of the spotlights, Miss Martian winding their way carefully between the shaded support pillars towards the thick crossbeams at the underside of the rig floor.  The Bioship’s forewings deformed as they drew near, ends reshaping to wrap firmly around the struts.  The bridge swayed and tilted, internal configuration shifting around them as it settled to hang, crablike, against the tower.

Harness buckles clicked quietly as Kaldur came to his feet.

“Are we secure?”

M’gann’s fingers brushed the surface of the control orbs.  “We should be.  She’s holding strong, and this far up we’ll be hidden from the water.  Staying camouflaged just in case.”

“Good.”   The rest of the Team stood as he turned to address them.  “From here on we are in enemy territory.   Radio silence until we know what we are dealing with - we cannot risk the Black Dragons intercepting our comms.”  His gaze moved briefly to the pilot’s chair.  “Miss Martian…?”

“Of course.”  The telepath’s eyes flashed green.  “Is everyone online?”

“Yes.  Thank you.”

“I’m here M’gann.”

“Loud and clear Miss M’.”

“I’m always online for you.”

Artemis rolled her eyes.  “I’m here.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah.”  Phantom winced, catching himself before continuing mentally, “Sorry.  Here.”  Nervous embarrassment thrummed beneath the thought.  “Still getting used to that.”

Wally snorted.

“Alright.”  Kaldur spared the ghost a quick reassuring glance.  “Parameter review before we begin.  What do we know?”

A dim glow flickered into being; Robin activated his computer’s holo-screen.  A model of the rig hovered above his wrist.  “Downloaded the blueprint before we left.  As for what we know: forty-eight workers were registered on the rig at the time of capture.  More shore-staff have been reached since, but until we know more we’ve got to assume everyone on the off-shore list is a hostage.”

“And the likelihood that all are being held in the same place?”

“High but not guaranteed.”  The Boy Wonder flicked his fingers over two rooms on the north side of model’s lower floor.  “The rig has communal spaces big enough for the whole crew - the mess hall, here,” he pointed, “and a rec’ area, here.  Videos were probably shot in one of those.  But whether they keep everyone there full-time or move them to other quarters for guarding…”

“And if they moved them?”

“Could be in the sleeping quarters - here,” his finger shifted to the southwest corner.  “Unlikely though - lot of risk moving a crowd that size if there isn’t a good reason.”

“Understood.  We will prioritise those areas when searching for prisoners.”  Aqualad nodded, eyes never leaving the holo-model.  “How much have we confirmed about the Black Dragons?”

A frustrated noise from the young detective.  “Less than we’d like.  Got their public history, the demands and their warning - not that it helps a lot right now.  As for what we’ll be dealing with up top… video footage showed four hostiles, maybe five if there’s a separate cameraman.  Coastguard also reported being repelled by three - gunmen plus their ‘mystery weapon’.  Assuming all of the sightings were different people, that makes at least eight on the rig.”

“Eight people to take down forty-eight?”  Kid Flash’s brow wrinkled.  “I’m not liking those numbers.  Gonna bet there’s a few more waiting up there.”

“I mean,” Zatanna mused, “they do have Apokoliptan weapons…”

There was a rustle as Artemis checked her quiver straps.  “What’s the chance that some of these ‘hostages’ are actually collaborators?”

“Inside job would make it easier…” Wally nodded thoughtfully. 

A noncommittal shrug from the Boy Wonder.  “Could be.  We won’t know until we know.  Although,”  he gave a bleak, humourless smile, “I doubt they’d be feeling too traught about it since the ‘warning’.”

Kaldur cleared his throat firmly.  “Right now this is pure speculation.  Be on your guards yes, but unless clear evidence is found we must assume all are innocent until proven guilty.  The mission is delicate enough without conspiracy theories.”  A moment passed as the others quietened.  His eyes moved back to Robin.  “What information do we have on their weapons?”

“Only what the videos and reports can tell us.”  The detective’s nose scrunched in dissatisfaction.  “Which is less than whelming but…”  he collapsed the model briefly to pull up some video stills.  “We know there are at least two pieces of Apokoliptan tech: the seismic disruptor used to attack the coastguard-”

“-and one of those pain-disk launcher things.”  Wally made a face.

“Leader had wristbands in the video…” Superboy frowned, “so probably whips too.”

A sharp, disapproving beep sounded from Sphere’s position.

Artemis eyed the alien ball speculatively.  “Sphere can interact with Apokoliptan tech, right?”  Another beep, this time of confirmation.  “Could she scan above deck - get a proper read on what’s up there?”

Robin paused.  “She could…”

“But there is a risk,” Aqualad continued.  “Such connections go both ways.  The scan could be detected.”

“Or hurt her.”  Conner interjected.  “We don’t know what else they have up there.”

Sphere rattled her plates in a way that made it clear she felt she was being babied.

“Sorry girl.”  Superboy patted one of her ridges consolingly.  “Gotta play this safe.” 

She grumbled at him.

The archer pulled her eyes back to the group.  “Okay.  That option’s out.  What’s our plan?”

Heads turned to Kaldur.

“It is as Batman said: our primary problem is information.  The hostages must be our first priority but right now there is too much uncertainty - too many unknowns for us to be sure our plans will not put them at greater risk.”

“Alright.  So.  Recon it is.”

“Yes.  Phantom.”  The ghost twitched, straightening to attention at the Atlantean’s words.  Unlike the rest of them, his suit had been stealth-mode grey since leaving the mountain.  “You will conduct the initial sweep.  Head above deck unseen and report back.  From there we will determine what - if any - action should be taken.”

“‘If any’,” Zatanna echoed wryly, raising an eyebrow to Conner and Artemis. 

An over-quick nod.  “Sure.  Can do.  You want a close look at the sleeping and communal spaces, right?” - Aqualad made an affirmative motion - “Anything else I should focus on?”

“Any detail may be of use but… tactical data especially.  Numbers.  What weapons they carry, Apokoliptan or otherwise.  Other equipment.  Patrols, meeting points, guard posts, chains of command, any other routines you notice.  Miss Martian can join you to assist if needed-”

“- but my camouflage isn’t as foolproof,” M’gann gave an apologetic smile.  “So…”

Kaldur acknowledged her with a small nod.  “Anything you can tell us about the condition of the hostages would also be helpful.”

“Not going to be too much for you, is it Casper?”  Wally’s question fell slightly to the wrong side of teasing.

Phantom’s jitters stilled as he sent Kid Flash a flat look.  “It’s recon.  I think I’ll manage.”  He lifted from the floor.  “Anything else?”

“Think you’re good to go.”  Robin re-opened the holo-model, marking a green dot with a few deft keystrokes.  He gave the spectre a reassuring glance, “We’ll be following you from down here if we need something, or the plan has to change on the fly.”  The glance turned questioning. “You ready?”

Phantom nodded.  Then he flew upward and disappeared.

A few seconds passed before the ghost’s voice sounded in their heads.  “Okay.  On the rig now.  Lower deck.”

“Directly above us, right?”  The Boy Wonder tweaked the beacon’s position on the model.

“Yeah.”  There was a tightness to the words.  “Walkway’s beside me.”

Robin studied the blueprint.  Miss Martian had brought them in on the rig’s eastern side, inside the ring of floodlights but still near the platform edge.  If he’d aligned them right, Phantom should be on the lower deck’s only open section; an observation space that served as a junction between the external walkway, lower floor corridors and stairways to the deck above.

“Alright. If you’re facing north right now you should be seeing the walkway and a wall. Ocean’s on your right.” The mental equivalent of a nod from the ghost. “Door in the wall will take you to the living areas; corridor goes through and links back up with the walkway ‘round the side.  On your left you’ve got stairs to the upper deck, then the other door, taking you along the engine rooms.  Engine room corridor joins up with the others too, eventually. We need to canvas all of it so take your pick.”

“Right.” Phantom thought for a moment.  “Engine rooms probably weren’t high on their list so let’s start there.  Make sure there isn’t anything before- How do you want me to run this?” he asked suddenly.  “I can follow the corridors if you want, or I could use my powers - phase through the walls and sweep the place grid-style.  Which…?”

Kaldur made the call.  “Follow the corridors. We need to know what we will be facing ourselves, and you will be easier to track without risking disorientation.  Grid-search at the end if more information is required.”

Silence.

“Hey, P’, you still there?”

“…I’m here.”  He sounded rattled.  “Sorry - patrol came past.  Needed to move.”

Kid Flash’s brow quirked.  “You do realise you’re invisible, intangible and talking via mindlink, right?”

“I know that.”  A bite of impatience touched the reply.  “Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to let people walk through you.”

“The patrol,” Aqualad had more pressing concerns.  “What can you tell us about them?”

There was a sense of second-hand motion as the ghost shifted focus.  “Um, okay.  There’s two of them.  Got the hoods on so can’t tell you much about how they look.  Probably not leaders though - no vests.”

“And their weapons?”

“They’ve got guns.”  Phantom swallowed.  “One’s carrying, other has it strapped to their back. Pretty sure I saw knives on their belts as well.”

“Tell us about the guns.”

A flicker of uncertainty.  “Bigger than handguns, smaller than rifles. Probably autos or semi-autos - you can see the magazines. Don’t know enough about makes or models to say more.  Sorry.”

Down on the bridge, Artemis rolled her shoulders.  “Grunts with guns, huh?”   She adjusted the pouches on her belt.  “That’s do-able.”

“Yes.” Kaldur’s mouth made a grim line.  “But if that were all there was, we would not be here.”  His attention moved back up to the ghost.  “Were there any signs of…?”

“No tech’ that stood out as alien, no.”

“Understood.”  A small blessing, their leader supposed.  Desirable - and dangerous - as they might be, Apokoliptan weapons were too rare and expensive to make a fully equipped crew likely.  As for how far that luck would hold… “Keep sweeping.  Report anything that seems suspicious.”

“Roger that.”  Above them, Phantom began to move.  “Going left to the engine rooms now.”  He stopped almost immediately.  “There’s another guard here.  End of the corridor, at the corner.  Got eyes directly on the entrance.  Probably watching the other hall as well.”

Aqualad frowned at the model.  The corridor Phantom was in travelled directly past the engine rooms, taking a hard right around the hollow of the drill well.  A guard at the corner could cover both.

“Equipment?”

“Looks the same as last time. Gun, knife…” they felt the ghost inch closer, “got a radio too.”

A jittery pause followed.  It seemed almost like Phantom was holding his breath.

“Everything okay up there, P’?”

“What?”  The spirit seemed unnerved.   “Oh.”  An exhale. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just…  I know he can’t see me but-”

“Disconcerting, right?”  They’d all had moments like that; frozen, stock-still and hoping, in shadows and around corners.  The feeling never fully faded, no matter how good the cover or track-record.

“Pretty much.”

“Well,” Robin marked a red dot on his map, “let’s try to keep the dis dialled down until the search is done, alright?  The good thing,” he changed topics, “is you’re probably right.  No way they’d only leave one guard if there was anything major.”  A shrug.  “Still gotta check though.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  On it.”

Quiet lay thick on the bridge as the ghost backtracked, beginning a careful sweep of the southern rooms.  Kid Flash tapped a foot.  It was eerie, trapped below, waiting for the next report.  Even with the Boy Wonder’s blueprint they were effectively blind, depending entirely on the newcomer’s eyes and ears to tell them what awaited on deck.  Phantom seemed to sense it too, because he kept up a near-continuous stream of nervous information - his position, the area and contents, a hesitant handful of personal observations - each time pausing for direction before moving to the next space.  In other circumstances it would have been excessive, frustrating even, but in the current circumstances too much was infinitely better than too little.

The first two engine rooms were cleared; Phantom reporting silent machines and parts aside from the generators powering the rig’s essential functions.  No obvious signs of tampering - the Boy Wonder made a note to have them checked for sabotage before operations resumed.  Between the first pair of engine rooms and the next came the main controls - and with it a new guard; same uniform and equipment as the others, this one sitting bored but alert at the controller’s chair.  Another red dot was marked.

Robin’s voice sounded over the mindlink again as the ghost headed for the external door.  “Outside should be an easy sweep.  It’s an emergency platform: fire escapes to some life-rafts.  Won’t take long.”

A loaded silence from Phantom. 

“Rob’…  There aren’t any life-rafts here.”

“What?” the detective frowned, fingers hovering over the model.  “There should be, they’re right here on the blueprint-”

“I know-” the ghost cut back across, “I can see where they’re supposed to go but…”

“But the Dragons must have ditched them,” Kid Flash’s hand met his forehead with an audible ‘smack’.  He dragged it down his face.  “Perfect.” 

Phantom bristled slightly.

 “… Well,”  Miss Martian hoisted a strained smile.  “I guess that means we’ll just have to do a good enough job that we won’t…” her cheer cracked, “need them.  Right?”

Aqualad rubbed a tired hand beneath his eye.  “You are correct.  We should not have planned to use them in any case - now we must simply take extra precautions.”  He sighed, face tilting upwards to stare through the roof towards the ghost’s position.  “Continue sweeping.  Report any other discrepancies you find.”

“Got it.”

They continued.  The Team’s eyes were drawn to the blueprint, watching Robin update the green dot as Phantom swept clockwise through the rig above.  Two more engine rooms on the southern wall, machines untouched and silent outside of life-support functions.  A nervous moment as he passed back through the guarded corridor.  A storage bay, empty except for toolkits and replacement parts.  A janitor’s closet.

Stillness settled over the group as the spirit moved toward the door near the other end of the hall.

“Sleeping quarters are coming up on your left.”

A possibility hung in the air.

“Be ready,” Kaldur was the one to acknowledge it.  “The hostages may be inside.”

“I know, Aqualad.  I’ll be careful.”

“For your own sake as well.  Regardless of what we find, our hands are tied until we have a full assessment of the rig.  Considering the nature of the videos you should expect them to be in some distress. Best to be prepared.”

“Uh…  Understood.  Thanks.”  There was a space.  Then, “Going in now.”

Several long breaths passed.

“There’s no-one here.”  Guilty relief saturated the edge of his thoughts.  He fell into apprehensive silence, continuing to poke between the rooms.  “I’m seeing some recording equipment.  Couple of camcorders and a stand.”

“Probably what was used to shoot the videos.”

“Probably- wait,” they felt him freeze.  “More Dragons.”

“I thought you said it was empty?”

“There’s a… lounge-thing in the back corner.  Can’t really see it from the other rooms.  Got three of them.”

“Doing what?”

“They’re… nothing.”  An incredulous note entered the ghost’s voice.  “They’re just sitting around, hoods off and all.”  His tone turned disgusted.  “Treating themselves to a nice break after a hard day of terrorising innocent people, I guess.”

“Not for much longer.  You said their hoods were off?”

“Yeah.”

Kaldur and Robin exchanged a glance.  With a few quick keystrokes the Boy Wonder closed the model, opening a search window in its place.

“Local law enforcement agencies gave the League database access for this mission. Describe them - let’s see if we get any hits.”

“Um, okay.  Like I said, there’s three guys.  Adults but not old - probably somewhere in their twenties.  They’re…” he thought for a moment, “Asian, but I couldn’t tell you where from.  Dark hair.  Left to right we’ve got a muscled-up dude with a crew cut, a tall bald guy with a beard, and a kind of average one with a ponytail.  Crew-cut’s messing with a knife, ponytail’s doing something with his gun and baldy is… napping, maybe.”  Something sour washed over them.  “Stinks like cigarettes in here.”

Robin synced his computer to the ship, calling up the display on the console.  “Still pretty vague.  Anything more specific to ID them?  Scars, ink…?”

“No luck on tattoos, sorry - not on their heads anyway and the suit covers the rest up.  Crew-cut and ponytail have taken hits to the face before-”

“-can’t say I blame anyone there-”

“Crew-cut’s nose is crooked and he’s got a scar over his left eyebrow.  Ponytail took his on the chin - split goes all the way up to his lip.  If baldy’s got anything, the beard’s hiding it.  Has got a bruise on his right cheek though.”

A worried glance around the bridge.  “Some of the workers must have attempted to resist capture.”

Conner’s mouth flattened.  “Yeah, well, let’s hope none of the Dragons tried for payback.”

The Boy Wonder made a noise at the back of his throat.  “Let’s hope.  Any chance of something more specific, P’?  Dark hair and brawler scars aren’t exactly uncommon in local circles.”

“Uh…” They felt Phantom make a face.  “Not really, unless Batman trained you to be a sketch artist as well.”

Artemis snorted.

There was a significant silence from Miss Martian.

“M’gann?”

“Everything alright, Miss M?”

She blinked.  “Oh, yes.  I was just thinking.”  She tilted her head, peering upwards through the ship’s roof.  “I can transmit a telepathic image to another person.  Maybe…”

Understanding flashed in Zatanna’s eyes.  “You think you could get it to go the other way?”

“I’m not sure but… it might be possible.”

Artemis hummed.  “Could work.  Worth a shot?”

“Alright, so,”  a flutter of nervousness coloured Phantom’s thoughts, “theoretically… what exactly would we be doing to make this work?”

“Well… for the first option you could try concentrating just on what you see.  Let it fill your mind and I’ll see if I can lift it from your surface thoughts.  Think of it like a more focussed version of what we’re doing now.”

The ghost considered.  “Seems manageable.  But I’m hearing an option two…?”

She hesitated.  “Um.  So, this might be a bit…”

“Just tell me.”

“I could try to enter your mind,” M’gann thought quickly, as though hearing the words fast would make them more palatable.  “I wouldn’t go through your memories but I could pull the image directly from the visual part of your brain.”

Phantom was quiet for a moment.  “That sounds…  Kinda invasive,” he settled on eventually.

Across the bridge, Wally’s eyebrows jumped.  “Coming from the guy who can supposedly take over other people’s bodies.”

‘The guy’ in question let out a breath.  “Alright, fine - fair.”  They felt him shake his head.  “Let’s try the first option.  If it doesn’t work, then…  I guess we can see what’s behind lucky door number two.”

M’gann lifted from the ground, floating across the floor to better align with Phantom’s position on the rig above.  It wouldn’t make much difference, practically speaking, but telepathy was ‘in the mind’ in more ways than one.  Especially for something like this.

“Let’s get started then.” - a stiff nod echoed down from the ghost - “I need you to concentrate - let go of anything you don’t need to think about and focus just on what’s in front of you.  Can you do that?”

“No pressure… Okay,” he added after a few seconds, “I think I’ve got it.”

“Great.” Miss Martian’s hair stirred as her eyes glowed brighter.  “Then let’s see if I can…”  They felt the mindlink shift as M’gann’s attention moved away, pulling up towards the spirit.  “I..” She frowned. A vague smear, almost like motion sickness.  “It’s blurry.  I can’t…”

Phantom winced.  “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.  We can try again.  Maybe… try not to think as much about what you’re seeing.  Just look.”

“Worth a shot, I guess.”  There was a sense of breathing.  Stillness.  “When you’re ready.”

“Right.”  The telepath’s brow creased as she raised a hand to her temple.  “It’s clearer - I’m getting impressions, but…”  she slumped. “No.  Sorry.”

They felt the ghost give a frustrated sigh.  “Figures.  So…”  A frisson of unease ran down the link.  “Option two?”

“Is that - are you comfortable with…?”

“Not really, but if you need these pictures…”

“Um…” M’gann cast her eyes around the group.

It was Kaldur who spoke.  “If you are willing.”

“Let’s just do it before I change my mind.”

“Alright then.” Miss Martian nodded to herself.  Her thoughts flickered back up towards the rig.  “It’ll help if you relax.  Breathe.  Focus.  First-time always feels a bit… strange, but don’t fight it okay?  I’ll try to be in and out as quickly as I can.”

Apprehension laced the reply.  “I’ll do my best.”

“…On three?”

“Yep.  Fine.”

“Okay.  One.  Two…”  The third word faded out as the mindlink dimmed, the telepath’s eyes shifting from green to white as her focus narrowed.  Her brow creased, uncertain echoes rippling through the thread that remained.  “C’mon,” she muttered aloud.  The frown deepened.

Something pushed back.

“Ah!” M’gann faltered in the air, dropping nearly a foot before catching herself.  Acrid green flooded the Team’s minds as the link snapped back into place, bringing with it a piercing spike of cold.   

They screwed their faces tight, hands lifting to their heads.

The Martian uncurled.  “…Ow.”

Phantom’s grimace echoed down the link.  “Ugh… I- what?  That felt a lot like…” They felt him whip his head back and forward.  “You okay down there?”

“Uh, yeah, just…” Miss Martian massaged her temples, willing the ache away.  To her right, Conner’s palms were pressed to his forehead.  “Brainfreeze.”

A bitten-back curse.  “Frost core.  Crud.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  The reassurance felt a little forced over the tail end of the throb.  “At least we’ll know for next time, right?”

Over by the window, Artemis was rubbing her nose.  A scowl was visible beneath the hand covering Wally’s eyes.

Kaldur decided to step in.  “Interesting as it has been, perhaps you should continue this experiment another time.  Mission going well, we will have other opportunities to identify the captors.  Right now the hostages are still waiting.  Still in danger.”

With a sigh, M’gann let her feet drop back to the floor.  “You’re right, Aqualad.  It would be nice if it worked but… it’s a distraction.”  She gave a wan smile, brushing a strand of hair back into place.  “Hostages first.”

A nod from the ghost’s end of the link.  “Seconded.  I did not like the feel of that - last thing I want to do is have my powers slip up somewhere these guys could see.  Next time let’s keep it for when people aren’t in danger.”

Robin flexed his jaw as he returned to the blueprint, chasing the last shards of ice from his back teeth.  ‘Next time’, he decided, they were giving Phantom a camera.

They continued.

His sweep of the room completed, the ghost headed back to the corridor outside.  A wave of impressions flickered down the link.  Harsh shadows from an emergency light.  A long, narrow stretch of grey wall.  Two distant red figures.

A small frown wrinkled M’gann’s forehead.  She floated to sit cross-legged, closing her eyes for a slow, controlled breath.

“Still there?”  When Phantom’s voice sounded in their heads again it was clear and without interference.

“Yes.  Just needed to refocus.”

“Okay.” A pause. “I’m in the north corridor now.  Got two guards on a door near the end.”

“Probably the rec’ space.”  What else it suggested, Robin didn’t say.  He didn’t need to.  “That, some lockers and a wash area should be all that’s down there.  Coming up on your left are a first-aid station, bathroom, kitchen, mess hall and a path that joins up with the walkway outside.  Clear them and we can move to the upper deck.”

“Got it.”  The spirit headed left to resume the sweep.

The bathrooms were empty, cubicles neat but dry from days of disuse.  In the first-aid room things were much the same, Phantom pushing a slight twinge from the back of the thoughts as he finished cataloguing the space. 

The galley and meal hall brought a different sight.

“Ugh,” the ghost made a disgusted noise as he swept through the rooms.  “Looks like they decided to spice up the terrorism by being bad houseguests.  I’ve seen school cafeterias cleaner than this.”

“Maybe they can count cleaning it towards community service.”  Zatanna’s words pulled a huff of laughter from the Boy Wonder. 

Then he frowned. 

“There’s no-one else in there with you, right P’?”

Realisation sent the spirit quiet for a moment.

“No.  No-one else here.  Not even guards.”

The Team contemplated that.

“Well,” Kid Flash followed Robin’s eyes to the last of the blueprint’s three marked rooms.  “Guess now we know.”

“Third time’s the charm.”  There was no humour to the Bird’s quip.

A sense of anticipation gathered on the bridge.

Aqualad took a breath.  “It is likely.  But the plan does not change.  We cannot act until we know the situation above deck.  Which means we must search every room.”

The young detective nodded.  “This floor’s nearly done.  You’ve got the corridor connecting to the outside walkway and north emergency rafts, then the main rec’ space, lockers and showers, and you’re back where you started. Upper floor’s the main deck - oil derrick and machinery, couple of tool and storage rooms, command-bridge, helipad - shouldn’t take too long to canvas.”  He flicked a glance upwards past the ceiling.  “Got all of that, P’?”

“Got enough of it, yeah,” came the tense reply.  “Heading back through the corridor… all clear.”  There was a long pause.  “Outside the rec’ room now.  Door’s guarded so…”  Unease coiled beneath the words.

Kaldur and Robin exchanged a look.

“Wait.”  The Atlantean spoke.

The ghost pulled up short.  “What?”

“It is just…” he gestured the Boy Wonder to continue.

“At this point, we know the hostages have to be in there.   Nowhere else on the rig is practical for a group that size.  And we’ve seen the Dragons hurting them to punish other people - maybe to keep them under control too.  It’s-”

“It is a difficult thing to witness, even with time to prepare.” Aqualad took over as the young detective faltered.  “Especially when you are unable to act.”

Around the bridge other Team members made unhappy noises of agreement.

Robin picked the thread back up.  “Whether you go in now or later, they’ll have to sit tight until we’ve got a plan.  And we need you as whelmed as possible for the rest of the sweep.”  His lips turned down at the corners, voice softening slightly.  “First time can really get to you, and - no offence P’ but this isn’t your regular gig.”

“I…”  Phantom hesitated.  “Alright.”  He sounded torn, “Let’s… I’ll check the rest first.  Once we’ve got enough, I’ll go make sure they’re okay.”

“Acknowledged.  Try not to rush.  Right now, information is the best help we can give.”

With reluctance, the ghost turned east down the hall. 

Clearing the lockers and wash space was a quiet affair; empty rooms, ribbon-lines of dry mud and oil marking where water had been, belongings scattered from what looked like a raid.  Phantom checked in again near the stairs where he’d first started, making a hairpin turn to follow the path that wrapped around the lower floor’s outside.   Anxiety tightened his thoughts as he shadowed the guards along the exposed rail, timing their patrols back and forth at the Boy Wonder’s request.  Robin marked a pair of moving red dots on the map. 

The second emergency escape point brought predictably bad news; more empty raft-bays, more jettisoned lifeboats that wouldn’t be there to fall back on. 

He finished the sweep by taking the other door back in, carefully checking the connecting hall for  signs of surveillance.  There was a conflicted moment in the main passage as he hovered outside the rec’ room door.  Then he pressed past it up to the main deck.

A sense of foreboding washed over them as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Everything alright up there?” Robin’s fingers were poised over the keyboard.

“Uh, yeah, just… have you ever cut through a construction yard after dark?” - the Boy Wonder’s affirmatory noise was echoed by Artemis - “Well now imagine it’s full of people who want to kill you.”

A small wave of snorts rippled across the bridge.

The young detective rolled his eyes.  “So long as your brand of Heebie Jeebies hasn’t shown up we’ll be fine.”  Wally’s own eyeroll at the suggestion was significantly less playful.

The spirit shook his head.  “No, but let’s not jinx it.”

They pushed forward.

As Robin had anticipated, the upper deck took less time.  Whether because of the wide openness of the dragways and drill floors, the ghost’s steadily increasing practice, or the growing sense of urgency they couldn’t say.  Tall shadows from the crane towers loomed over Phantom’s thoughts as he scoured the main section; picking his way through the pipes, carefully inspecting the tool rooms, packing spaces and assistant’s office.  Two sentries and patrols were marked; a guard at the northeast and southwest corners and a pair of Dragons sweeping the edges of the platform between them.

“Huh,” the ghost slowed as he approached the raised command section.

“What?”

“I think they’ve moved the oil drums around.  Got some barrels sitting out in the middle of the helipad.”

“Maybe they’re trying to stop boarders.”

He inched closer.  “Maybe but… I don’t think so.  They’ve got some marks scratched into them but doesn’t look like anything else has been done.”

Artemis’ eyebrows jumped.  “Looks to me like someone’s taking a ‘finder’s fee’.”  She tossed her head contemptuously. “Guess ‘exploiting resources and environments’ is okay when they do it.”

Zatanna’s mouth twisted.  “We knew they had to be getting their money from somewhere…”

“Yeah,” Wally made a disgusted noise, “because funding black market violence is so much better.” 

Sphere rumbled her displeasure as Conner scowled.

Aqualad’s voice was firm. “Either way, we will not let it happen.”  His attention moved back to the rig.  “You are nearly done.  Check the bridge.”

Phantom headed toward the building that overlooked the platform. 

A hiss ran through his thoughts at the window.  “Found the boss.”

Kaldur stood straighter.  “Describe them.”

The ghost slipped cautiously inside.  “Recognise the costume from videos.  Got the red vest.  Hood’s up.”

“Apokoliptan tech?”

“Yeah, I see it.  Big mechanical backpack-thing - black metal, red markings, square sort of strap across the chest.  Looks pretty similar to what was in the footage.”

“Could be the disk-launcher…” Superboy frowned.

“Or the disruptor-thing - wait,” Kid Flash sent the New Genisphere a questioning look, “do you need two separate devices for those or can one do both?”

Sphere issued a series of inscrutable beeps, flexing her plates in the robotic equivalent of a shrug.

“Helpful.  Thanks.”

Conner ignored both of them.  “Wrist-bands?”

They felt Phantom hold his breath as he crept forward.  “…No.  Just regular gloves.  Sorry.”

It made sense, Kaldur realised, in a sick sort of way.  Geo-disruptors carved wide swarths of destruction; best used for demolition, to entrap or repel, ill-suited to confined spaces.  The whips and disks, meanwhile, were engineered to cause pain.

To cause fear. 

He pushed the thought aside.  “And the rest of the room?”  Armed as the leader was, the element of surprise would be their biggest advantage.

“It’s empty - or, well,” the ghost corrected, “there’s no-one else here anyway.  Plenty of furniture: got some workbenches along the walls, computers, filing cabinets, stuff like that.  Walls facing the rig and helipad are mostly windows - you can see almost everything,” a flicker of thought, “although I guess you could get past them by staying low. Anyway, the main desk is right in the middle.  Boss is there, sort of - he’s moved the chair over to the cupboard, got his back up against it.  Guess…” he trailed off.

“What it is?”

An uncertain note entered his voice. “Thought I heard something, but…” he shook himself,  “never mind, sorry.  It’s nothing.  Probably trying to make sure no-one sneaks up behind him.”  A pause.  “Anything else?”

Aqualad flicked a brief, questioning glance around the bridge.  No response.

“That is enough for now.  Thank you.”

Which really only left one room.

“Right.” Phantom’s thoughts were halting.  “So.  If there’s nothing else you want me to check, then… I guess we should go make sure they’re okay.”

“Go.”

Tension thickened the air in the Bioship as the ghost made his way back below deck.  From how quickly he moved, Kaldur suspected Phantom might be phasing through walls to get in position faster. Even so it was enough time for worry to take hold, silent glances flitting around the bridge before all eyes turned to focus on Robin’s model.

There was a moment of trepidation as Phantom hovered outside the door, reporting once more the two guards stationed in front of it.

“Okay,” he steeled himself.  “Heading in now.”

Quiet settled across the space as they waited.  It stretched.  Just long enough for fears to start whispering in; thoughts of worst-case scenarios, of what the ghost could be seeing that would keep him from immediately reporting back.

“…They’re alright.”  Relief was a was a shudder around the bridge, loose at the edges of Phantom’s thoughts.  “No permanent injuries that I can see anyway.”  It sharpened into concern as he continued, “They are pretty beat-up though.  Scared too.  And we have a problem.”

“What problem?”  the young detective’s gaze was hawklike on the blueprint.

“Three more guards on the inside.  They’re watching the hostages and-”

“-and they have the weapons.”

The spectre grimaced.  “Yeah.  Got another metal backpack, plus wristbands on the other two.  Regular big guns on top of that.”

A series of strained looks passed between the Team. 

“Figures.”  The Boy Wonder jabbed the model in resigned frustration.  “Out here the hostages are the best leverage they’ve got.  Guess they’re not playing around with the threat.”

Artemis’ eyes were hard.  “What’s the bet they’ve got a radio to outside, just waiting for things to go wrong?”

“With hostages on the line?”  Zatanna gave a humourless smile.  “I wouldn’t be betting the other way.”

Behind Conner, Sphere’s vibrations had stilled, poised as though waiting.

“So, whips and disks.  Now what?”

Kid Flash flicked a look to the alien ball.  “I guess that answers one question.”

“Phantom.”  Aqualad’s attention shifted back to the rig.

“Yes?”  They could hear the stiff stillness in his voice.

“Headcount.  How many civilians are there?”

The ghost lapsed back into silence as he scanned the room.  “Forty-six… Forty-seven. I’m seeing forty-seven.”

Robin frowned.  “Forty-seven?  You sure?  Not forty-eight?”

“No,” the confirmation didn’t sound entirely certain.  “I-” his thoughts broke away into the careful double-check of a re-count.  “…No.  Definitely forty-seven.  Why?”

“Pretty sure staff logs said forty-eight.”  Wally raised an eyebrow.  “Maybe you should re-re-count. You know, make sure you’ve got your facts straight?”

“I could,” a hint of irritation touched the reply, “but it won’t make another guy magically appear.  There’s forty-seven.  Either the log’s off or someone’s missing.”

“Is that possible…”  Miss Martian wondered.  Her eyes turned to the Boy Wonder.  “Could the records be wrong?”

“It’s not impossible…” Robin’ sounded doubtful, “but it’s not likely either.  We have info placing all members of the current shift on rig since it started, and as of last League contact only on-shore staff have responded to calls.  Once you’re out here you’re here until transport comes to collect you, and there weren’t any early return requests recorded.  So unless someone managed to skip out and fool every roll call since, they’ve got to be onboard.”

“Wait,” Kid Flash’s expression turned incredulous, “are you seriously saying we’ve lost a hostage?”

“I don’t know.”  Frustration creased the young detective’s face.  “All I know is that the numbers aren’t lining up.”

A tired breath from Phantom.  “Okay.  What do you want me to do?  I can go search again if there’s anywhere you want me to check.”

“No.”  Aqualad’s response surprised them.  They turned to see their leader pinching the bridge of his nose.  “If we have miscounted, then they will be safe with the others.  If they have hidden and not been caught, they will be found be once the Dragons are removed.  If they have somehow escaped then a search can be launched once the rest are secure.  If they have been taken from the rig, we will need to interrogate the Dragons to locate them.  Which means we must detain them first.  And if the record is wrong then they are already on-shore.  Already safe.”

”Alright.  Then…?”

“Tell me about the hostages.  How they are faring.  Would we be able to move them if needed?”

“They’re…” the ghost faltered, “they’re scared.  Not that I blame them.  Quiet too… like, really quiet, sort of grouped together.  Got some bruises, some cuts and scrapes - pretty shaken-up looking.  Don’t know if the Dragons have been feeding them.  Wouldn’t say it’s right-away-or-else but I wouldn’t want to leave them here much longer.  As for moving…” he stopped for a moment.  “Their arms are tied.  Not cuffs either - cables, looks pretty uncomfortable.  Can’t get a good look at their backs or feet so I don’t know if there’s more ties or if they’re tied to anything, but it’s not going to help either way.”  Something heavy touched his thoughts. “They’re… they look really, really tired.  Don’t think they’d do too well if you asked them to move fast.”

“Understood,” an unhappy furrow lined Kaldur’s forehead.  “If there is nothing more, you should return to the ship.”

He hesitated.  “You don’t want me to stay up here with them?  Just in case?”

“We need to plan.  That includes you.”

“Besides,” Wally stretched his shoulders impatiently, “they’ve lasted this long without a sitter.  What are you gonna do, be their imaginary friend?”

The mental equivalent of a sigh.  “On my way.”

The Team began to move, gathering in a ring at the centre of the ship.  Robin skirted around to the front console, holding his arm so Aqualad could better see the model hovering over his wrist. 

Zatanna and M’gann shifted as Phantom phased through the wall and back into visibility, the ghost stepping self-consciously into the opening they made in the circle.

“So,” the Boy Wonder turned to their leader.  “What’s the plan?”

The Atlantean was silent for a moment. “The mission was clear.  Gather information, determine the situation, then hand over to the League.  Our reconnaissance is complete.”

Robin tilted his head as the rest of the Team shifted.  “I’m hearing a ‘but’…?”

The crease between Kaldur’s eyebrows reappeared.  “Batman also instructed us to secure the hostages if possible.  I do not believe they are secure.”

“With three guys on the inside watching their every move?”  Artemis hummed.  “Definitely not.”

Kid Flash’s lips pursed.  “Can’t Manhunter and Aquaman handle them?”

“In theory,” the Boy Wonder studied the model, “yes.  In practice…” a glance to Aqualad and Miss Martian.

The Atlantean sighed.  “It would take time.  And they would need to board the rig first.  The risk…”  M’gann nodded her agreement with a frown.

“Yeah, okay,” the speedster ran a hand down his face, “that’s not a chance they’d want to take.”

Conner’s eyebrows lifted.  “So what are we doing, then?”

“What is our response time?”  Kaldur’s question was directed to the young detective.  “Were we to signal from the rig…?”

“For Manhunter and Aquaman?  About an hour.  Maybe a bit less if they push it.”  The Boy Wonder paused, considering.  “Longer if they’re escorting service-craft.”

“Understood.”  Aqualad closed his eyes.  A few breaths passed before he opened them again.  “The safety of the hostages must be our first priority.  We have no need to engage the Dragons openly, but the guards in the room are a threat.  Both to the workers and to the League’s rescue mission.   We must find a way to remove them, without alerting the rest of the rig.”

“And without being seen,” Robin added.  “Official line is we don’t exist, remember?”

“Yes.” 

“Alright then.”  Zatanna’s gaze passed around the bridge.  “Options?”

“Miss Martian” - she stood straighter at Kaldur’s words - “your telepathy.  Could you enter their minds - influence them remotely?”

A flicker of discomfort crossed Superboy’s face as M’gann hesitated.  “I could,” she faltered, “but altering behaviour is… delicate.  It’s not as simple as making someone think something, or forget something.  The more complex the behaviour… and with three of them?”  she shook her head.  “There’s no guarantee it would work.  Especially without them noticing.”

“What about you, Zee?”  Artemis suggested.  “Could you use magic - tell them to walk out, like what you did with Ivo?”

The sorceress frowned.  “Maybe… but they’d need to hear the spell.  And besides, Ivo knew something was making him talk when he wasn’t supposed to.  I could get them out, sure, but once it wore off they’d just raise the alarm and walk right back in.”

The Bird gave a glum nod, still focused on the blueprint.   A glance up.  “P?” - the ghost startled - “What about your powers?  Any chance you could body-snatch these guys, walk them out yourself?”

“Uh,” Phantom seemed to shrink as attention turned his way, “Overshadowing?  It’s kind of a ghost-per-person deal… and I wouldn’t want to play around with one duplicate right now, let alone trying for two.”  An apologetic grimace.  “Sorry.”

“Figures,” Wally muttered.  Then raised his voice.  “Much as I love the theorizing, we’re still stuck at square one here. We got any way to lure these guys out?”

“Maybe we could try a diversion?”  M’gann lifted a hand to her chin.  “Trip a fire alarm or make a mess somewhere else so they have to go look?”

The Boy Wonder rotated the model thoughtfully.  “Might work... only,” a frustrated noise, “they’ve got things too well covered.  Odds are they’d close ranks around the room and send one of the others around the rig to check instead.” He shot the red guard-markers an irritated look.  “If they’re smart, the guards on the hostages will be the last to move on something like that.”

Artemis rubbed her temples.  “Alright, so then what?  It’s not like these guys are just going to up and walk out by themselves.”

“Actually…”  Robin’s eyes were drawn to the lower deck of the blueprint.  To the pair of dots moving back and forward along the exposed outer walkway.  “What if they did?”

Balmy humidity from a tropical night swirled to fill the Bioship as the rear door opened.   Below them the waves rolled with a dull crash, sea spray carrying in the sharp smell of salt.  And other things.  A tang of metal and rust.  The cloying, slightly dizzying scent of diesel.  Somewhere above a seabird called, sound echoing out to the dark horizon.  Around the base of the towers the water shimmered with an iridescent film of oil.

Kaldur wrinkled his nose.

Plates clinked as Sphere unfolded herself, reconfiguring into Supercycle mode.

They climbed aboard, greyed-out stealth suits vanishing into the ripples of reflected shadow.

All except one.  Phantom floated beside them, waiting.

Aqualad gave him a nod.  “Go.”

They felt a gust of wind as the ghost vanished, flying upwards towards the floor.

“… I’m in position.”

“Good.  Then we are on our way.”

Sphere's wheels lifted away from the ship with a slight shudder.  The door folded closed, sounds of lapping water and the muted rush of the sea following them upward as they rose silently between the towers.  Vibrations rolled through the Supercycle’s chassis, engines purring softly as Conner guided her into position beneath the walkway.

A muffled thud of footsteps approached from above.

The Team held their breaths.

Robin pushed himself higher, leaning out to peer at the platform’s edge. 

“P’, status?”

“All quiet here.  Hostages are… still the same, which is okay, I guess.  No reaction from the guards.  Not yet, anyway.”

Kaldur’s expression was intent.  “Acknowledged.  Hold where you are, but be ready.  Just in case.”

They felt the ghost swallow.  “Yessir.”

The footsteps passed above them again.  Waves foamed on the metal below.

“Superboy.”

The Kryptonian squinted upward, eyes unfocusing as he scanned outside the visible spectrum.

“Clear.  They’re walking away.”

There was a flicker of shadow as Robin and Miss Martian pulled themselves up over the rails.  She stayed floating as he placed his feet carefully on the boards, the two stalking the guards noiselessly along the deck.  Step by step they gained ground.  Nearly close enough to touch.

A wordless nod passed between them.

The Boy Wonder sprang. 

He landed on the shorter man’s back, one hand clamping over his mouth, legs pinning the Dragon’s arms to his sides as an escrima stick jabbed quickly into the key nerve clusters of his neck and shoulders.  The guard began to topple backward.  Robin slid off and to the ground, shouldering the man’s weight with a restrained grunt to keep him from falling heavily to the floor.  The other guard barely had time to look before crumpling forward, M’gann’s eyes glowing green as he collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

She caught him telepathically before he could hit the deck, lowering the sleeping body softly to the boards. 

Both paused, waiting for a response from the rig. 

Quiet.

Robin lay his target on the ground beside hers.  “How’s it looking, P’?”

“No change in here.  You’re good for now.”

“Roger that.  Aqualad, Zee,” his attention turned below deck, “we’ve got your guys.”

A muffled metallic sound whispered along the rail as the Atlantean and magician climbed carefully up to join them.

More footsteps approached along the upper deck.

“Quickly.”  Aqualad closed the distance to Robin a few short steps.  He and the young detective seized the unconscious guard under the arms, Zatanna and M’gann doing the same for their captive as they hauled the men up against the walkway’s inner wall.

The footsteps paused above them.  They froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Zatanna lifted a hand to her mouth.  “S’ti tsuj a drib!” they heard her whisper into her fingers.

An insubstantial shape blurred upwards towards the sky, seabird’s shrieking cry piercing the night around them.

There was a startled exclamation, followed by annoyed muttering from above.  Then the footsteps resumed.

A collective sigh was released.  Robin mouthed a thank you to the sorceress.

“P’?”

“Still good.” The ghost’s thoughts jittered, reacting to the adrenaline in theirs, “You?”

“We are fine,” Kaldur took a calculated step away from the wall.  “Moving to the next phase now.”

The Atlantean ran a clinical eye over their captives, sizing up their uniforms.  As far as he could see, both were identical in make and equipment.  The taller, he thought, seemed closer in fit.  With a nod to the others he pulled the unconscious guard from the wall and set about stripping the body, laying out clothes, tools and weapons with military efficiency.  Miss Martian and Zatanna studied the items as he set them down before turning their attention to the remaining guard, Robin keeping a sharp eye on the walkways as they worked.  The sorceress muttered a few experimental phrases under her breath before settling on a spell, glamour charm shimmering into existence around her.  M’gann pinched the fabric between two fingers, clothes and body blurring into a taller, darker shape.

Two new guards watched as Aqualad shrugged off his water-bearers, swiftly pulling the stolen suit over his own.  He pushed back a wince as it chafed against his webbing.  Gloved fingers collected the water-pack stiffly from the floor, flipping it upside-down to keep the hilts from protruding over his shoulders.  With relief he noted how the shoulder straps disappeared against the darkness of the cloth, adjusting its position to ensure he could still grasp the handles.  Weapon-belts followed shortly after, concealing his own beneath strips of leather and metal.   Kaldur gave the hood a reluctant grimace before tugging it into place, resisting the impulse to shake his head at the stifling feel of the cloth.  He supposed it could have been worse, for something that must have seen several days of wear.  Still, he resolved not to breathe too heavily if he could help it.

At a gesture from Robin, they stepped back into the shadows of the wall.

The three ‘Dragons’ appraised each other as footsteps passed overhead again.

“What do you think?”  No matter how many times they experienced it, it still felt slightly off to hear Miss Martian’s ‘voice’ coming from a different form.

“Looks fine.”  The Boy Wonder broke away from his sentry duties, pulling cuffs and tape from his belt to restrain the real guards.  Bound and gagged under the moonlight in their underwear, they seemed far less of a threat.  “It only needs to hold up long enough for the handover.” A glance to M’gann and Zatanna, “Probably don’t want them getting too close anyway.”

“Good. Then we should proceed.”

A quiet purr drew closer as Superboy guided the Supercycle towards the deck.  Up on the walkway, Aqualad and the others hefted the guards, waves below shimmering a warning as they lowered their captives carefully over the side.  Kid Flash and Artemis reached to catch the Dragons, Sphere rocking slightly as she took on the extra weight.  The archer gave a muted huff as they dropped the bodies to the Cycle’s floor.  Job done, the pair hoisted themselves noiselessly up to join the others.

Still below, Conner gave their captives a look of resigned distaste.  From the rhythm of Sphere’s vibrations, she wasn’t much happier to be on babysitting duty.  Kaldur sent an apologetic nod over the rail.  The Supercycle disappeared, dropping back down into the gloom beneath the rig.

“Alright.”  Aqualad turned to the crew on deck.  “Does everyone know their positions?”

A sharp flurry of nods.

“Good.”  His attention shifted towards the rig. “Phantom: Zatanna, Miss Martian and I are coming to you.  Kid Flash, Robin, Artemis, Superboy: keep watch.  Report if anything changes.”

The Team began to separate.  Robin and Kid Flash padded south towards the stairs, splitting apart as the Boy Wonder grappled to the upper deck, the speedster’s stealth-suit vanishing into the darkness of the stairwell.  Artemis accompanied the rest as they moved northward to the side-door, stopping beneath a shadowy tangle of pipes on the floor above.  She gave them calculating look before turning her gaze to Aqualad.

He nodded, locking his fingers into a stirrup to launch the archer up over the rail.

After a few seconds, her voice sounded in their heads.  “I’m in place.”  The same message echoed down from Robin and Kid Flash a beat later.

A moment of wordless understanding passed between the remaining three.

They headed for the door.

The sound of the sea faded as they slipped into the exit-passage, M’gann tugging the handle closed behind them.

Aqualad glanced back to her and the sorceress.  “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He took a breath.  “Very well.”  His thoughts shifted to address the Team.  “We are on approach.  Phantom, Superboy - be ready.  We may need you.”

Miss Martian and Zatanna moved to flank him as they stepped out into the main hall.

The guards on the door stirred at the sound of their footsteps, turning to look them up and down.  Kaldur pushed back a twinge of unease, cataloguing their equipment in return.  Gun, knife, radio.  Same as the ones outside.  Nothing Apokoliptan.  With luck there would be no need to use them.

“Raeh siht noitasrevnoc ni ruoy nwo eugnot,” the sorceress passed off her spell with a cough and cleared throat as they came within earshot.  He felt it press against his ears, rolling down the corridor to take hold.

They stopped outside the hostage room.

The taller Dragon shifted his weight.  “You’re back early.”  Relief flickered through the Atlantean; Zatanna’s magic had worked.  Some part of him registered a disconnect; a mismatch between the sound of their voices and the words his mind was hearing.  He was briefly grateful for the masks covering their faces.  Had their mouths been exposed it might have been more obvious.

The guard was still waiting on a response. 

He shrugged noncommittally, willing his body language to seem unconcerned.

The other Dragon tilted their head, making a curious noise at the back of their throat.  “Next change isn’t for two hours.  You like watching spineless traitors that much?”

The twinge of unease came back stronger as the others tensed behind him.  Bad news.  Their observations hadn’t lasted enough to catch a handover.  They’d gambled on enough time passing for an early change to seem unsuspicious.

Still… “Leader wanted us back,” Aqualad kept his voice as at-ease as he could.  It was not unrecoverable. Something he had noticed on other missions; a surprising number of people would fall in line if you acted like it was what they were supposed to do.

A glance passed between the two men.

“We didn’t hear anything.”

The Atlantean swallowed the dry itch in his throat, giving another shrug.  “It is what we were told.”

There was a breath as the Dragons considered.

“Eh?”  The shorter changed tack, leaning to peer around at M’gann.  “Your leg’s feeling better then?”  A mirthless rasp of laughter.  “Guess the little bastard didn’t kick as hard as we thought.”

Kaldur bit his tongue against a ripple of anger as Miss Martian stiffened.  He willed the others to stay calm, feeling a similar wave roll through the link from Zatanna.

M’gann shifted her weight, scuffing a heel against the ground.  “Good enough,” her low mutter could have passed for irritation or embarrassment.

The two guards looked at each other for a worrying moment.  Then Aqualad’s friend spoke.

“I’m checking this first.”

‘No.’  Kaldur’s stomach lurched.  Their ruse wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, not in a crew this size.

He decided to try for annoyance.  “You’re going to disturb the boss because you missed a call?”

The man paused.  Then, slowly, his hand began to drop, lowering back to his hip.  Aqualad supressed a sigh of relief.

There was the click of a button.

Soft static hissed from the radio on the shorter guard’s belt.  On his own, Kaldur’s stolen radio did the same.

Behind him came only incriminating silence.

A frozen pause.

“Battery fault…?”  the telepath tried, but the men were already reacting; the first ripping the radio towards his mouth as the other went for his gun.

‘Too late.’ Aqualad sprang into action, surging forward to clamp one hand around the wrist carrying the radio,  the other reaching for the Dragon’s mouth.  “We are discovered.”  The guard managed a strangled shout; Kaldur heard it echo down the line, followed by a screech of feedback as the device clattered to the ground.  “Phantom:  Guards.  Superboy:  Have Sphere jam all technology in range.  Now.”  He kept his momentum going, using it to spin the man into a sleeper hold, bracing his back against the wall as the guard struggled.  In his peripherals he caught the brief scuffle of M’gann and Zatanna subduing his shorter partner.  The man went limp.

They dropped the Dragons to the ground, tensing to scan the hallway.  All around the rig they could hear the commotion spreading; echoes of shouts and sharp cracks of gunfire rattling through the corridors.  The trio put their backs to the door, hands raised in preparation, dreading the moment they might hear similar sounds from inside.

At the far end of the hall the dorm door burst open, three more Dragons spilling out into the mess. 

Kaldur saw them stop to take in the scene in front of them; their comrades sprawled on the ground, the three imposters standing in their place.  They went for their weapons.  The Atlantean drew his water bearers, preparing to form a shield as they charged forward-

At the rear of the group, the tallest man stumbled.  Then swung his weapon around, gun butt arching to club his companions across the back of the head.

They crumpled to the floor.

M’gann faltered for a stunned second - halfway-expecting a trap - before recovering her composure, telepathically hauling the guard forward by the front of his shirt.

“Wait!”  The Dragon managed to pull his hood off, eyes glowing green under the mask.  “It’s me,”  Phantom streamed out of the man like smoke.  His host wobbled, tawny-brown eyes blinking  sluggishly open.  A grey-gloved fist swiftly closed them again.  “I heard shooting,” the ghost spun to face them.  “Are you okay?”

Aqualad blinked. “We are fine.  The hosta-”

The exterior door slammed against the panelling, tremor rippling down the hall as two new guards stormed inside.  A red-and-grey blur followed, Kid Flash tackling the pair into the wall.

Wally attempted a suave lean as the men slid to the ground.  “These guys bothering you?”

The girls spared him a fond eyeroll before turning their attention to their leader.  Outside they felt more than heard Superboy leap up to join the fray on deck.

Kaldur gave the speedster a nod.  His focus moved back to the ghost.  “The hostages?”

“They’re okay.”  Phantom twitched, head turning as another shout sounded from above.

“Their guards?”

“Knocked out - no powers,” he added quickly, “and I stayed invisible.”  His brow furrowed.  “Might have freaked them out a bit to see, though.”

The Atlantean closed his eyes, thinking.  He tugged the hood off - no use for it now - listening to the noise around the rig.  “Team, status?”

“Nearly done.”  A single gunshot rang out over Artemis’ report.  “Handling the last few mooks now.”

“Understood.”  Kaldur turned to Kid Flash.  “Make sure no-one comes down.  M’gann, Zatanna and I will check the hostages.”

Wally made a terse motion, shifting to monitor the hall.

Kaldur took a breath.  Best to seem calm.  There was no need to cause further anxiety; no help in creating panic.  M’gann and Zatanna moved to stand beside him as he reached for the door.

“Wait,”  Robin’s voice stopped the Atlantean’s hand on the handles. “Our cover, remember?”  His thoughts flickered, distracted by something on deck, before continuing, “Kaldur could be here with Aquaman but it’s supposed to be just him and Manhunter handling this.”

“Yes…”  Aqualad made a face.  It was not ideal but Phantom’s report had not indicated any major emergencies inside.  If needed he could go in alone.

A flicker at the corner of his eye.  M’gann’s disguise shifted, blurring upwards into something taller.

“I can cover Uncle J’onn,” her voice was a near-perfect imitation of her mentor’s.

To his other side, Zatanna was muttering, making adjustments to her spell.  The glamour billowed outwards, Dragon guise taking on the approximate proportions of Kaldur’s king.

“You’ll have to talk,” there was something profoundly uncanny about hearing the sorceress whisper from the shape.  “Can’t do the voice, sorry.”

“Alright.”  Aqualad shook himself.  The others moved closer to his shoulders as he put his hands back to the doors. “Then we are going in.”  He pushed them open.

A hush of hastily-stifled whispers answered.

Frozen silence thickened the air as the Atlantean slowly swept the room.  All hostiles incapacitated.  Exactly how Phantom had knocked the guards out wasn’t clear; the three men crumpled at their posts by the corners and door, Apokoliptan weapons dull aside from the angry sparking of shorted systems.  In the centre the workers had gathered into a defensive huddle, close-packed and weary under the lights.

Kaldur allowed himself a moment of relief.  As shaken as they were, none of the men seemed in need of urgent medical attention.  Battered, yes, uncomfortably tied and more than a little drained - the Black Dragons clearly had low standards for what constituted a ‘live’ hostage - but for the most part holding strong.  Whether it was the nature of the camera or a deliberate choice by whoever cut the footage he wasn’t sure; either way, they looked far less grey and thin in person than they seemed on the video.  A few had slumped, staring dispiritedly at their knees, but the eyes that locked onto him were clear and sharp.  Despite the ghost’s report, some part of him had been expecting much worse.

A wave of barely-contained flinches rolled through the group as he stepped into the space, terrified eyes skating across his uncovered face before shivering away, unable to hold contact.  The Atlantean stopped, belatedly remembering he was still wearing the rest of the stolen suit.  Unlike other League members, neither he nor his mentor wore easily-identifiable headpieces.  He suddenly became conscious of Zatanna and M’gann’s larger, still-disguised forms at his shoulders.  Flanked by them, he must seem like a threat.

He drew his water-bearers - the men stiffened and pulled closer at the glowing blades - cutting away the overshirt to reveal the markings on his arms and insignia at his belt.

“I am Aqualad.”  He felt the attention of the room focus in on him as he continued, “The Justice League sent us to help.”  A new wave of whispers broke out; their names repeated, voices rising to a murmur as glances flicked from his chest to his arms to the others.  He watched the realisation start to sink in; a few more men folded forward, delivering shaky exclamations to their knees.  The Atlantean recognised a handful of words - Zatanna’s translation spell had only extended to the corridor outside.  A thought.  “Can you understand me?”

“Dạ- ah, yes,” a tired-eyed man with a sun-weathered face spoke from the second row.  A thin red scratch cut across his cheek.  “Yes, we understand you.”  There was a veiled confusion beneath the nod he sent the Atlantean’s way, mirrored in the faces of the workers around him.  For a moment Kaldur saw how it must look to them; two adult League members hanging back silently while a protégé took command.

He paused.  Then turned, making a deferential motion towards Zatanna before moving to secure the doors.  “Start freeing them.  Check for injuries.  I will follow.”  Understanding rippled from the girls, the pair swinging into motion behind him.

There was a green blur as Miss Martian shapeshifted again, shedding the rest of her Dragon disguise in favour of her uncle’s form.  “We apologise for the delay,” he heard her offer in Manhunter’s voice.

“No,” the same man answered, words carrying over the relived sounds people of being untied, “we are happy you came.”

Aqualad’s attention moved to the rest of the rig, peering through the door to share a nod with Wally before closing it against any sounds of future fighting. “Team,” so far there was no sign that conflict had spilled back to the lower floor, “progress report.”

“Finished with the main deck,” Robin supplied.  “About to start moving on the bridge.”

“Good.  We will join you once we finish here.  Update if anything changes.”

Job completed, Kaldur returned to help the others.  To his left, M’gann attacked the cables telekinetically, ripping apart any knots she couldn’t work free.  To his right Zatanna had lifted a knife from one of the fallen Dragons, blade concealing her illusion’s lack of strength. 

The Atlantean followed her lead, setting to work in the middle of the front row. Clammy arms slid precariously under his grip, heat-flushed and sweat-soaked as he carefully adjusted the thinness of his blades.  The tightness of the cables offered little room for error.  He winced internally at the red-and-white weals left behind, men stretching cramped arms with murmurs of thanks.

A little way into the second row he encountered a familiar face.  Kaldur recognised the shadowed eyes and scratched cheek of the workers’ de facto spokesperson, following the man’s gaze as it moved worriedly over the rest of the group.  ‘There are still so many…’ 

An idea occurred.  “What is your name?” he asked, leaning around to begin work on the bindings.

“Lap,” the man stopped with a hiss as the ropes came free, rubbing the angry banding on his arms.  Blue coverall sleeves fell to hide them as he shook out his wrists, giving Aqualad a grateful nod.  “Tran Hu Lap.”

The Atlantean nodded in return.  “Here,” he pulled the knife from the remains of his stolen belt, offering it to Lap hilt-first.  “We will be faster with your help.”  Lap hesitated before taking it firmly, expression resolute.

“Thank you.”  Aqualad moved to stand.

“Wait,” Lap’s hand caught his arm before he could go further.  “Nano.  Our colleague,” he continued at their blank looks, voice growing urgent, “Nano Santo Pineda.  They took him.  Do you know where?”

Kaldur stilled, feeling the girls freeze alongside him at the words.  Lap’s eyes were still on his face, along with an increasing number of others.  Waiting for his response.

“Zatanna, could you look here please?”

The illusion’s mask turned toward him, head tilting quizzically.  He held contact for a moment before breaking off with another obedient motion, turning back to Lap.

“We have not seen him.”  He straightened, thoughts shifting to address the rest of the Team.  “The Black Dragons have taken the last hostage.  Have you-”

“Don’t worry.”  Artemis’ voice was grim.  “We found him.  But you’re not going to like it.”

The situation sharpened.  “Where are you?”

“Outside the bridge,” Robin answered.  “Boss is the last one left.”  A humourless huff.  “You can probably guess the complication.”

This time the look the trio shared was genuine.

“Hold position.  We are on our way.”  He swept the room quickly, willing his face to stay composed as the others came to their feet.  “M’gann - the guards.” Her disguise raised a hand, levitating the unconscious men over to herself.  She pulled the remaining knives from their belts, passing them over to the freed workers.  On Kaldur’s other side, Zatanna did the same with her own.

The Atlantean raised his voice, projecting around the space.  “A transport ship is coming.  Please stay in this room until everyone is accounted for.”  He found Lap’s eyes again.  “Keep untying the others.  We will search for your friend.”

A nod.

The second the doors closed, Kaldur was running. 

He threw off the remains of the stolen suit as he went, Zatanna’s heels clacking against the floor as the glamour dissolved around her.  Kid Flash and Phantom accompanied them - the speedster keeping pace at a jog - before racing ahead to reinforce the others.

M’gann was still in Manhunter form as they broke onto the upper deck.

“Situation report?”

“Leader’s the only hostile.  Main bridge room, at the desk in the centre.  Eyes to the windows and doors.  He’s holding the hostage in front of him.  There’s a knife.  Got something in his other hand too but it’s hard to see what.  Gear looks the same as the others, plus the vest and Apokoliptan tech.  Get the feeling he knows we’re out here, but I don’t think he’s spotted anyone.”

“Acknowledged,”  Aqualad made some quick decisions, dodging between the heavy metal piping on the most direct route to the raised platform.  “Miss Martian and I will engage - try to negotiate surrender.”  Practice allowed him to spot the hints of his Teammates’ uniforms in the shadows as he drew near; a tiny, familiar motion pulling his eye to where Robin perched in the deep darkness below the main tower.  Phantom was nowhere to be seen.  “Standby and be ready to move if he will not release the hostage.”

The darkness rippled in answer.

A flutter of gold betrayed Artemis’ position higher up one of the cranes, sea breeze pulling strands of her ponytail into the halo of nearby warning lights.  “Door and windows are blocking my shot.  Get me an opening and I can back you up.”

He sent the archer a gesture of understanding, striding towards the last ascent.

They took the stairs two at a time.  No response came from inside as they crossed the exposed final stretch in full view of the windows.  The leader had to know they were coming.

Kaldur kicked the door open hard enough that the hinges cracked.

Sharp breaths filled the room as the echo faded.

The Atlantean moved carefully over the threshold, very aware of his empty hands - he’d chosen to keep his water-bearers sheathed, to leave himself vulnerable in hopes of avoiding a fight.  Miss Martian ghosted in after him, coming to a stop by his shoulder.  “Be on your guard.”  Watching eyes made his skin prickle as he appraised their surroundings.  For the most part the room was surprisingly untouched; a single chair toppled by the opening door, neat benches lining the walls, topped with the blank screens of powered-down monitors.  A disturbance at the centre - tall cupboard doors hung crookedly open, papers scattered wildly, chairs overturned from something being dragged.

The first person he saw was the hostage.  Nano.  Young compared to the other workers; high, wide cheekbones, dark curls in sweat-soaked disarray.  His eyes were huge with panic, tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief.  Breaths came in shallow gasps through a crude cloth gag tied across his mouth.  His clothes were crumpled, crushed from their time in the cupboard, pulled out of place by the restraints…

And by the blood-red gloves that pinned his chest between them and the leader like a shield.  One dug painfully into his stomach, something hard concealed within the fist.  The other snaked up under his arm, holding the wicked point of a knife against his throat.  The owner of the hands loomed behind him, Black Dragon’s mask twisting into a snarl.

They stepped closer.

The leader made a warning noise, pulling the blade dangerously near.

Aqualad stopped, raising his empty palms in a placating gesture.  ‘Do not provoke.’  Their cover.  With a flicker of his eyes, he motioned for M’gann to speak first.

“Enough.  It is over.”  Familiarity let him hear the high tightness at the back of ‘Manhunter’s words.

A gritting of teeth. “No.”

Kaldur took a levelling breath.  “It is.”  One of their case studies - Black Canary and Captain Atom had given a primer on negotiations.  For now they held the advantage but it was no guarantee; things could still turn disastrous if not handled with the proper respect.  “The hostages are free. Your men are incapacitated.  You cannot win this.”

A glare from behind the mask.  “Says you.”

“It is true.”  The glare switched focus, back to M’gann.  Aqualad used the distraction to appraise the  Leader, trying to identify the object in his other hand.  Slightly larger than palm-sized, dull red and shiny black, an uneven ridge visible over the top of his fingers.  Unlikely a weapon from how he was holding it - possibly a trigger or switch.  One final card.

In his arms, the hostage struggled.

Kaldur shifted his attention to the man, allowing his voice to soften.  “Nano, yes?”  A tiny sliver of a nod, more with the eyes than the head.  Nano’s Adam’s apple bobbed dangerously close to the blade.  “Stay calm.  We are here to help.”

The hold tightened with a scoff.  “Big words.”

Aqualad turned to address the leader.  “What do you hope to achieve here?”

His mask tilted in a humourless smile.  “To make a point.”

Another breath.  “And you have.”  From the corner of his eye he saw Miss Martian’s hand twitch, ears picking up a faint scrape somewhere above and behind him.  ‘The window.’  He kept talking, holding the focus on himself.  “You said you would not be ignored.  Well now you are not.  The Justice League is here.  The company is watching.  Governments are watching.  You have our attention.”

He jerked his chin angrily, shake rattling through Nano’s shoulders.  “But not to listen!”

The Atlantean made a soothing motion, every nerve alert to the danger.  “Then this is your chance.  You cannot achieve your demands,” he delivered the words as gently as he could.  “But if you come with us now, you will be questioned.  Have the opportunity to make your case.  To be heard.”

It didn’t work.  Nano was pulled closer, knife curving upwards under his chin.

A demand.  “You will let us free.”

“Miss Martian, Superboy, Artemis.”  He felt the telepath tense at his shift back to the mindlink.  “The device looks to be Apokoliptan.  Is Sphere’s jamming signal still in effect?”

“Yeah, still going.”

“Good,” he gave the closed fist a grim look.  “If needed, prioritise the knife and the hostage.  We will take the risk.”

“We cannot do that.”  M’gann was speaking in Manhunter’s voice.

The blade flashed a warning.  “You will!”

“No.”  Kaldur’s voice was firm.  “And it will not help you.”  One last attempt.  “Right now you have the chance to be heard.  A heroic surrender, on your terms.  You need the support of the people to achieve your goals.  You will not get it by hurting him.”

Nano made a pleading noise through the gag.

The leader stiffened.  “You deserve it!” A more violent shake, jerking his head back and forth.  “Traitors, all of them.  Selling their lives, their countries to the enemy!”  A furious snarl.  “You brought this on yourselves.”

Aqualad swallowed tightly, feeling the situation devolve.  His voice was forced calm.  “All they did was accept a job.” 

“M’gann?  Artemis?”

“Ready.”

“Standing by.”

“They should have known better.”  It came through clenched teeth.  A drop of red beaded on Nano’s neck, beginning a slow roll down.  He started to shiver, dark eyes locked on their faces.  Kaldur shifted his weight.

“What other choice would you have them make?!” ‘Manhunter’s voice pitched up slightly at the end.

“Better ones!” The Dragon exploded.  “Better no job at all!”  His breath came harsh, knife-arm rigid.  “The trade would have atoned their betrayal.  Now they will be examples - so others can know what will happen if they choose wrong!”

The blade glittered.

“M’gann, now!”

Her hands moved with her mind, batting the knife away with one motion, the other ripping Nano forward, out of the leader’s grasp.  At the same time, the Dragon’s free hand crushed down on the device.  It fell to the ground as he was pulled off-balance, skittering across the laminate with a plastic clatter.

He gave a mirthless laugh, steadying himself on the desk edge.  “You lose.”

Aqualad shook his head.  “No.  All your alien technology has been-”

There was a distant sound.  It rumbled through the rig, tremors rolling up through the Atlantean’s bare feet.  The floor dropped out from under them, titling into a vertigo-inducing roll. 

Everyone staggered.

Kaldur regained his footing, lunging to seize the man by his shirt-front.  “What did you do?!”

Another hollow, teeth-bared laugh, lifting his chin to stare Aqualad in the face.  “Made a point.”

Beside them, a flash of sliver - the knife, embedded point-first in the table a few feet away.  Red-gloved hands slammed into the Atlantean’s chest, shoving him back, reaching-

A blunt-tipped arrow streaked over Aqualad’s shoulder to strike the leader in the jaw, sending him crumpled to the ground.

At M’gann’s feet, Nano was gasping as she worked the bindings free.

Kaldur felt the floor shift again as he approached.  He crouched, laying a cautious hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Do you know what they did?”  Nano shook his head mutely, eyes wild at the edges.  Shock, or something close to it.  The Atlantean gave the shoulder a comforting squeeze, gathering the cables from the ground.  “Stay here.  We will take care of it.”  He received a shaky nod before striding back to the Dragons’ leader, lashing his arms to the table-leg with a tight set of knots.  Poetic justice, they might have called it on another day.

Miss Martian discreetly lifted Artemis’ arrow from the floor, tucking it inside her cape as they hurried outside. 

It was a stale sort of victory that met them there, the rest of the Team sliding down from their hiding places to gather at the foot of the stairs.

The deck pitched a third time, rolling like a boat in rough seas.  Of the Teammates with their feet on the ground, only Robin didn’t stumble.

“Uh… what’s happening?”

“I felt-”

“The rig - it…”

“What did they do?” the detective’s voice cut through the rest.

“We do not know.”  Kaldur and M’gann shared a glance.  “The device - it must have been a trigger.”

“But how?” confusion twisted Superboy’s face.  “Sphere’s taking out all Apokoliptan tech.  You said-”

The Atlantean grimaced.  “We miscalculated.”

A low, creaking groan echoed around the rig.  Above them, the crane tower swayed ominously.

This time the Boy Wonder put out a hand to steady himself.  “Well, whatever it was, it’s not good.”

Miss Martian frowned, hand going to her temple.  “Sphere...?”  All eyes went her way as she continued, “She’s saying… something about the water…”

The water.

They turned, sprinting for the stairs to the lower deck. 

Metal rang as they hit the walkway rail, peering out over the edge.  Below them the sea was thick with froth, dark wisps of vapour hovering over the waves.  Shapes rippled beneath the surface.

Robin let out a sharp exclamation, pulling the rig’s full model onto his holo-screen.  “They must have hit the support towers.” 

Aqualad thought about that; the metal beams spearing down into the ocean floor, spreading the load between them, keeping the full weight of the structure suspended above the currents.  If even a few were to fail…

“How bad?”

“Not sure,” the detective’s mouth was a taught line, mask-lenses stretched wide above it.  “Without knowing the damage, how many…”

Kaldur’s eyes moved from the model to the water below.  The distance seemed to stretch indefinitely, dips between the breaks rolling like ripples.  A dangerous fall even by itself.  Not to mention potential debris.

Just for a moment, he considered that he might be insane.

There was a crunching snap beneath them, spray kicking up, blowing into their faces as the walkway bucked dangerously.

The Atlantean gave himself no more time to think before vaulting over the rail.

Gravity took hold with a sick swoop, wind whipping his skin and eyes as he plunged towards the ocean, hands going to his weapons.  One wrapped the stale pack-water around his neck - protection against the film of oil - the other sending a blade arching out ahead to break the surface of the sea.  The waves met him like a thunderclap, driving the air from his lungs as his gills took over.  Bubbles clouded his vision.  He twisted to right himself-

And found devastation.  Sand and sediment churned the water, murky billows cutting visibility to a scant few metres.  Flashes of light shimmered in the gloom, jagged shards of metal and burning-out embers swirling in a rough cauldron of foam.  The towers were bars of hazy shadow, mangled silhouettes through the fog.

Every piece of Kaldur’s training wanted him to stay clear.  A drumming tattoo at the base of his skull, warning of unstable wrecks, of hidden obstacles and poor sight-lines.

He moved forward anyway, keeping to the outer edges as much as possible, hugging the most solid parts of the structure.  Each tower was actually four - a square of thick vertical bars linked by crossbeams, anchored to the seafloor by heavy concrete slabs.  His heart sank.  More than half were damaged; at least one column blown apart, shattered into pieces or torn in peeling curves, their neighbours buckling and crumpling like foil.  Masses of splintered struts rained steel needles into the sea.

‘Explosives.  Rigged below the waterline.’  Evenly spaced too - destruction spread throughout the base of the rig rather than clustered in one place.  A hidden blessing, the Atlantean supposed; if all support had gone from a single side or corner, the whole structure could have toppled.  ‘Perhaps that was their aim - to prolong collapse just long enough for their own escape.’ 

The next tower he passed was completely broken; beams sheared clean through, blunt ends grinding in and out of alignment like ragged teeth.  He pictured the floor above swaying with the movement.

His circuit had brought him back around close to where he had started.   Aqualad steeled himself, pushing past the floodlit ring into the darker waters near the rig’s centre.  ‘The drill pipe.’  Not structurally critical but were it to rupture they would have a different catastrophe on their hands.  Up close the pipe was wide - Kaldur thought he would be able to swim inside it.  If not for the contents.  Hairline cracks oozed ribbons of oily sludge into the sea.  Fracture-damage from the detonation shockwaves, maybe.  Apart from that it seemed untouched.  ‘If the rig falls…’  This far beneath he could feel the weight bearing down, pressure compacting the wounded tower-beams.  For each that gave out the others would have to take the load, bringing them closer to their own failure points.

A shadow above him.  The Atlantean threw himself sideways, spreading webbed toes for an extra burst of speed as a beam fragment the size of his forearm crashed into the water.  Bubbles grazed up mere inches from where he had been.

He took the hint, swimming for the clear waters beyond the rig’s edge. 

A flick of his weapons cleared away the oil-film where he broke the surface.  High on the walkway above the Team peered down, pale ovals of faces barely visible through the floodlight glare. 

He ran through the situation in his head.  The Boy Wonder swore.

“How bad?”

“Well, it could be worse” - the forced jauntiness in Robin’s voice set Kaldur’s teeth on edge - “we could already be in the water.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the sea gripped him.  “Will it hold?”

There was a discouragingly long silence.  “Permanently?  No.  For now?  Depends.”

“How long do we have?”

“Hard to tell.  Might be settling after the shocks but- any currents down there?”

Aqualad moved his legs in a slow circle, trying to feel past the aftershock turbulence.  Below him a tug; a slow eastward undertow, pushing sand up against the concrete bases.  In other circumstances he would consider it a nonissue but...  “Yes.  Low force.  Steady direction.”

Spray misted across the water again as a gust stirred up a breaker.  From above, the Team watched Kaldur dive under it, pale dot of his hair disappearing beneath the water.  The rig shuddered and swayed as it hit the towers.

A frustrated noise escaped the back of Robin’s throat, lost in the creaking from below.  Around him he could see the sentiment reflected; Superboy and Kid Flash rising to the balls of their feet, eyes fruitlessly searching the rig and water for a clear path, a patch of solid ground where they could put their powers to use.  Every few seconds Artemis drew a new arrow from her quiver, turning it over before putting it back.

Aqualad resurfaced.  “Can we evacuate the rig?”

“With what?” the archer jammed a foam arrow into place, frenzied into stillness.  “Life-rafts were ditched, remember?”

Wally took off suddenly, rapid footsteps reverberating down the walkway into the rig.  “No fallbacks,” he reappeared from the other door, “just checked.”

“Miss Martian - the Bioship?”

“She could…” M’gann chewed her lip, brow furrowing.  “But with this many people?  She can’t stretch far enough to fit everyone at once.”

“Plus, our cover.  How do we explain an alien ship already being out here?”

“I care less about our cover than their safety.”  The Atlantean’s voice was firm.  “Could she and Sphere start moving groups?”

“Yeah but bigger problem,” the Boy Wonder interjected again, this time with a grimace.  A map flickered up, briefly replacing the rig on his display.  “Transport’s still at least forty minutes out.  Ship and Sphere can close the distance faster but…”  Their minds filled the blank.  Anyone left behind would be completely stranded.

Kaldur dived under the next wave like it had personally offended him.  “Very well.  Then we must ensure the rig stays stable until help can arrive.  What are our options?”

“Well,” Miss Martian’s expression cleared, “she might not be able to carry everyone herself, but maybe…” she reached out a hand, eyes glowing green as she made contact.  Beneath them the Bioship released from the tower, flying up to press against the underside of the rig.  Superboy called over the rail for Sphere to copy. 

The floor steadied underfoot.

“Uh,” the telepath frowned in sympathetic strain.  “Heavy…”  She shook her head, looking back to the others.  “She can brace but I don’t think they’ll be able to hold it if it falls.”

“It’s still a buffer.”  The Team startled as Phantom materialised by Robin’s shoulder - they’d half-forgotten the ghost in all the confusion.  His eyes were fixed on the model.  “Keeps the load from shifting too much at the weak points.”

“Yeah - right.  Right.”  The Boy Wonder dipped his chip sharply, staring at the support-circles he’d marked out.  Wally nodded with him, too focussed to realise who he was agreeing with.  Another cloud of spray spun up over the rail.  “Could still use something more solid.”

On his other side, Zatanna was muttering.  “Etativel- no… Esiar dna-”  her lips pursed, eyebrows pulling together.  “No, no… Tfil,” a pause.  “Tfil eht…” She nodded to herself, taking a breath, planting her boots on the shivering floor.  “Tfil eht mroftalp dna riap- ugh,” the sorceress stumbled as though struck.  Robin’s arm shot out in alarm as she wobbled, pulling the witch against his side before she could fall.  “Guess not,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Zatanna?”  Artemis reached for her, concerned.

“I’m okay.”  She got her feet back under her, pushing away from the detective to brace against the walkway rail.  Several more breaths.  “Thought I might be able to repair the damage.”  A  rueful smile came over her shoulder as she pushed her hair back.  “Should have figured it was too much, even with Sphere and Ship to help.”  The sorceress shook her head, patting her cheeks to refocus.  She straightened.  “Still, I guess even if repair’s out…”  They felt the power gather as she inhaled.  “Ecrofnier tahw llits sdnats!”   The air shimmered, insubstantial ribbons of magic wrapping around the undamaged beams.  “That should help a little, at least.”

Aqualad rose with the next swell, letting it carry him closer to the rig.  “Will it be enough to hold?”

“I don’t know.  It won’t fix the damage but if I did it right it should keep the rest from breaking as fast.”

“How long?”

Robin frowned, finger poking at the changes on the model.  “Not sure.  It’s bought us some time but-”

“But,” Zatanna took over, “spells this vague?  They’re hard to predict.  If I’d had more prep-time to tailor it, I might be able to give an estimate …”  

“It is fine.”  Another wave lifted the Atlantean, close enough to hear the echoing whine from Sphere’s servos.  They were straining.  He thought he saw the shadowed splinters of a crack starting to spread along the lower deck floor.  ‘We must do more.’  Something more solid, more grounded.  His eyes swept the horizon - searching for what, he was not sure.  A piece of salvage, anything that could be used as a brace…

Backsplash sent water towards his face.  Kaldur flicked the hilts again, blue glow keeping the taint of oil away from his gills.  Then stopped.  He looked at the ring they made in the sea.  Back to the towers. 

It was ambitious.  Perhaps beyond his reach. 

‘Try anyway.’

He dived with the next breaker, riding it back beneath the rig, kicking to drive himself deeper underwater.  The Atlantean spread the influence of his water-bearers wide, spinning a thick column to carry himself above the surface.  It rained back into the waves as he released his hold, leaving only a compressed platform to stand on; he could not afford to worry about keeping his gills clear.  He took a breath, plunging the hilts down into the platform, pouring power through the sigils in his arms into the sea below. 

Thick serpents of water erupted from the waves, encircling the worst of the damaged towers, wrapping around them like a compression sleeve.  A creaking crunch echoed from the structure in return.

“Robin: status report.  Will this be enough to hold them?”  Aqualad caught a flash of green and blue in the periphery - Miss Martian flying below deck to survey his work.

“…Yeah.”  The Boy Wonder evaluated.  “Yeah, I think it will.”  A careful pause.  “Can you, though?”

Kaldur closed his eyes.  Already he could feel his arms straining.  Were it Queen Mera, Garth, Tula, even Topo…  But a sorcerer he was not.  He had chosen to leave his place at the Conservatory, to prioritise his military training, to accompany his King to the surface world.  A major magical working, on this scale… “If I must, I will.”

A bolt of thought from Phantom.  “What if you didn’t have to?”

Holding the supports steady was taking most of Aqualad’s attention.  He spared what little he could, listening to the ghost run his idea through the mindlink.

“That might just-”

“Do you think it will-”

“Worth a shot, right?”

His neck was tense.  “Do it.”

It felt like a long few seconds before a cool ripple arrived at his shoulder.

“Ready?”  Phantom’s voice echoed, eyes shifting from green to a solid, ethereal blue.  Light through glaciers.

He jerked his chin towards the pillars in affirmation.

A crackle of frost in the air.  Kaldur tasted snow, the temperature dropping fast enough to smart his skin.  Sharp snaps and squeals sounded as ice overtook the water-snake, spreading down below the surface to lock the support in place.

With relief, Aqualad relaxed his hold on the column.  “Robin?”

“It’s working.  So long as it doesn’t melt…”

Condensation billowed around the tower like steam.

“It shouldn’t,” the ghost spoke.  “Well,” a hesitation, “it will eventually but it’ll hang around longer than the regular stuff.”

“How long do we need?”  Kaldur directed the question to the detective, turning his focus to the remaining supports.

“Thirty minutes, give or take.”

Phantom nodded.  “You’ve got at least that.”

“Good.”  He made eye-contact with the ghost, motioning to the next pillar.

They continued.  Now that he was spread less thin, Aqualad could give more attention to each column, ensuring the next was sound before the spirit fixed it in place.

“Dloc dniw wolb!” Unseasonal artic wind raced over the sea, freezing the third before Phantom could reach it.

Up on deck, the Boy Wonder raised his eyebrows at the sorceress.

She grinned at him, “I’ve been practicing that one.”

“Knew there was a reason we kept you around.”

The smile widened into a smirk.  “And here I thought I was just a pretty face.”

He flicked her a smirk of his own.  “It’s a bonus.”  Then they were back to business.  “How’s it looking down there Miss M’?”

Images flickered through their minds are she relayed the information up.

“Okay…” Robin mapped the columns onto his model.  “Focus on the west corner - got some load-bearing points in bad shape.” 

Ice creaked as the pair moved to comply.

“Where next?”

The Boy Wonder ran some calculations.  “Still got some damage throughout but I think…” he peered at the model more closely.  “Yeah.  I think that’s enough.  We’re stable for now.”

A sigh of relief was breathed along the rail.

“Alright.  I can help Aqualad get back up on deck-”

“Wait, not yet.”

“…Is there a problem?” their leader asked warily.

“Not exactly but… right now Ship and Sphere are helping keep things up.  So’s Zee.  We’re all going to have to be out of sight before the transport arrives.”

Kaldur closed his eyes, stepping off the water platform and onto a slab of ice Phantom helpfully extended from the tower, grateful for the brief reprieve despite the numbing cold underfoot.  “Then we must ensure it can hold without the added support.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you propose?”

The detective pondered for a moment.  “Let them down one at a time.  Pile on extra ice as needed.  Sound okay?”

The Atlantean nodded, sending the ghost a thankful glance before calling the platform back into being.  “Proceed.  We will monitor.”

Sphere and the Bioship began to drop slowly, inching their way out from under the load.  Tiny tremors ran through the deck, the towers accepting the weight with a gritty moan.  A hairline fracture appeared in the top of one column.  Phantom refroze it quickly.

They waited.

“Okay, good.  Zee’s going to start releasing the magic on the beams.  Be ready.”

There was a glassy splintering sound as the spell dissipated.  Kaldur’s first column began to crack, crumbling apart.  Above them a strut came loose, plummeting down like a missile - M’gann seized it telepathically, flinging it away from the boys and out into the sea as Aqualad wrapped a new, bigger serpent around the old one, Phantom layering it thickly with ice. 

They made a quick circuit of the rest, pouring fresh seams of frost along fault lines, spinning a handful of new bracers where others were beginning to strain.

A second passed.

Then another.

“We’re clear.  Come back up.”

Kaldur let himself sag forward, stretching his back, before turning to his partner with raised eyebrows.  Phantom offered a timid grin in return, rubbing the side of his neck.  He held out hand. 

The Atlantean took it, letting the ghost get an arm around his shoulders, a lightheaded weightlessness overtaking him as they lifted towards the deck.

Miss Martian touched down as they phased through the floor.

“Cool, so,” Kid Flash pushed his googles up, running a hand through his hair.  “Let’s never do that again.”

Aqualad closed his eyes against the others’ sounds of agreement, taking in the cleaner salt breeze that blew at the walkway’s height.  The planks were steady beneath him now, although he fancied they were no longer entirely level.

He straightened, calling their attention with a flicker of thought.  “The crisis has been averted.  But the mission still remains.”  His eyes turned to the Boy Wonder.  “We need to prepare for handover.  Including a cover story.”

The young detective hummed agreement, model fizzling away as he shook out his arms, pressing his earpiece experimentally.  “Still too far out for radio contact.”  He quirked an eyebrow at the Martian.  “Any chance of telepathic contact yet?”

She shook her head.  “Not right now.  Soon maybe, especially if Uncle J’onn is reaching out too.”

He rolled his shoulders.  “Guess that gives us some time to get the details straightened out.  Transport ship has to stop before it gets too close to the rig anyway - Manhunter and Aquaman head out in front to meet us, we debrief and handover, they decide what they want to tell the response units…”  The Boy Wonder peered over the edge at the iced-covered supports.  “Not sure how we’re going to explain that, though.”

A series of glances passed around the group.

Zatanna gave the pillars a speculative look.  “How about we give it to Kaldur?  I mean,” she nodded towards his surprised pause, “you do have a reason to be out here and you did create the supports to start with.”

Aqualad pushed back a knee-jerk instinct to protest the credit, slowly turning the suggestion over in his mind.  As excuses went it was more than plausible.  The exact nature and limitations of his people’s powers were not widely-understood above the surface.  And even below, “The Conservatory of Sorcery teaches cryo-manipulation at advanced levels.”  He had seen it himself; watched Lori and Tula fling spears at targets to hone their accuracy, shape delicate sculptures of kelp and coral to practice their fine control.   “My own studies did not proceed that far, but…”

“Hey, there we go,” Wally clapped his shoulder cheerfully.  “Barely even lying at all.”

Artemis flicked her ponytail over her shoulder.  “Creative use of the truth works for me.  Better than - well what’s the alternative,” an eyeroll, “we try selling them on the world’s first and smallest summer blizzard?”  She threw the Atlantean a sly glance, “If your modesty can handle it, that is.”

Kaldur directed an overly-patient sigh toward the both of them.  He supposed it was to be expected; they had gone from disaster to safe so fast that even he was a little giddy.

“Okay,” Robin was doing a bad job of hiding a grin, “that should be enough of a starting point to work from, at least. Hash out the details when they get here.”

“I will let them know.”

“So,” Miss Martian tilted her face towards the starry sky, “what now?”

“Now… I suppose it’s time we make with the clean-up.”

There was a collective grimace.  Then a nod from their leader. 

“Move out.”

Compared to everything else the final preparations seemed almost mundane.  They swept slowly through the rig, bringing the mostly-unconscious Dragon guards to be cuffed in a neat line along the railing, checking for last-minute traps.  All except Aqualad and a freshly-disguised M’gann; the rest of the Team making themselves scarce as he and ‘Manhunter’ helped Nano down from the bridge to the main room, disappearing back inside to reassure the other workers.  There was some dragging of bodies, some lifting of machinery where it had toppled to obscure emergency paths.

Sphere rose above the platform, helpfully rotating to tip her two ‘captives’ out at their feet.

At the end of the line, Wally hefted Kaldur’s commandeered Dragon-suit mask, turning it over with a look of increasing discontent before dropping it to the ground, darting away into the structure.  He returned with something red in his hands, holding the leader’s vest up for their inspection.

Artemis raised an eyebrow.  “Halloween costume?”

“Souvenir.”

“Wasn’t he tied to a table?”

“Yeah, and?” the speedster gave a magnificent shrug.  “He still is.”

A tired wrinkle from the Atlantean.  “Were you seen?”

“Nope.  Guy was out of it.  Besides,” Kid Flash shrugged the item on experimentally, colour eye-watering against his stealth-suit, “you know me: moves like a shadow.”

The archer and the detective shared a look.

“Sure thing, mister ‘ninja-boyfriend’.”

He shot a wink her way.  “You know it.”

She flapped a hand at him, turning back down the rail.  “Play dress-up later.  Come help me check they’re secure.”

The redhead waggled his eyebrows at her.  “Is that an invitation, babe?”

An exasperated noise was the only answer.

Salt wind blew in from the east.  There was a creak from the boards as Conner perked up, moving across the walkway to squint at the horizon.

“Transport’s incoming.”

M’gann’s thoughts shifted.  “I just had contact from Uncle J’onn.”

Sphere lowered herself, bringing her deck in line with the rail.

The Team began to gather. 

“Then it is time we disappear.”

“A covert recon and rescue mission.”  Batman sounded more resigned than annoyed.  They weren’t sure if that made it worse.  “Unless unavoidable, do not engage the enemy.”

The Team shifted in their seats.

Kaldur - having extricated himself from the charade on deck - stood to address the projection of their supervisor on the Bioship’s display.  “We had reason to believe the hostages would be in greater danger without our intervention.  And even had we not, the bombs-”

“Could have been uncovered by a wider and more thorough sweep.”

Phantom wilted where he sat.

“That’s not fair!”  Robin protested.

“Isn’t it?” the Dark Knight’s expression was unrelenting.  His eyes moved across the group.  “In the field, hyper-focus can be as dangerous as no focus at all.  You cannot afford to get so caught up with what’s directly in front of you that you fail to notice a bigger threat approaching from behind.”   The younger detective sank back into his chair as his mentor continued, “I expect the same thing happened with the hostages.  Between Phantom and Miss Martian’s abilities, you could have incapacitated the guards and secured the door from the inside.  But you became fixated on removing them from the room.”

There was a long, mortified silence on the bridge.  Zatanna pressed disbelieving hands to her face.

Their supervisor let it linger a few more seconds before moving on.  “That being said,” a breath, “this was a sensitive and volatile situation.  And you kept it contained, without major injury to civilians, and without sacrificing your cover.  Given the circumstances, you performed adequately.”

Given the circumstances.  By Batman’s standards that was dangerously close to praise

Through the rotated windows they caught a flash of colour; the transport rising on a swell into the floodlights beside the rig.

“Okay so,” Artemis cautiously stretched her back.  Her chin lifted towards the screen, “what happens from here?”

White mask-lenses flickered in the archer’s direction.  “With the rig secure and handover complete, your work is finished.  From now on Aquaman and Martian Manhunter will act as primary liaisons.  They will escort the rescue ship back to port.  They will handle the authorities and the media coverage.  Aqualad” - the Atlantean straightened to attention - “you will need to accompany them to maintain appearances.”  A nod.  “The ship’s on-board medical team is already checking over the workers’ injuries.  Arrangements are in place for emergency airlift to Manila if necessary, although based on initial reports it’s unlikely to be used.”  The Dark Knight turned, attention called to something off-screen, before resuming, “Once on-shore, the League will continue to support the interrogation of the captured Black Dragons members,” he tilted his head in a brief gesture of acknowledgement, “and investigation of their suppliers.  As for the rig itself…” the Team tensed at the sigh, “a structural and mechanical assessment will need to be conducted before operations can resume.  While not the result of your actions today, this incident has reignited old debates about the appropriateness and viability of the Zijilker project.  If the damage proves too extensive, or repairs too expensive, it may be decommissioned.”

Silence fell in frown-lines as they processed the news.  Uneasy glances flittered across the space.

“But, then,” M’gann hesitated, “if the rig shuts down… wouldn’t that mean the Dragons won?  That the mission failed?”

Batman considered her for a moment.  “Perhaps, in one way of thinking.  But things are rarely that black and white.  You’re not here to score points against your enemies.  You’re here to prevent harm. To help the people who need it.  And you did.” He looked up from the Martian, shifting to address the Team as a whole. “Take the win.”

They blinked.

Their supervisor was already moving on.  “Full report and debrief at Mount Justice once all persons are confirmed on-shore.”  His gaze swept the group, homing in on two members, “Aqualad, you and Miss Martian should also debrief with Black Canary regarding the hostage negotiation.  These situations can be challenging.”  The pair nodded.  “Are there any questions before then?”

A ripple of shrugs moved through the Bioship.  At the back, Sphere beeped ambivalently.

It was Kaldur who answered.  “None that cannot wait.”

“Then we’ll talk more on your return.  Batman out.”

The screen went dark.

Zatanna lowered her hands, resting elbows on her knees with a crooked smile.  “Sounds so easy when he says it.”

A laugh from the Boy Wonder.  “Always does.” 

There was a less happy movement from the seat behind.  He turned.  “You alright P’?”

The ghost grimaced.  “Yeah, I just - I feel so stupid.”  He made a frustrated noise, covering his own face with a hand. “Of course I could’ve just knocked the guys out, why didn’t I think of that?”

“None of us did,” Aqualad countered steadily.  “And you are new to this Team.  New especially to how we operate on missions.  No one here is expected to solve every problem singlehanded.”  His hand made a conciliatory motion.  “And any one of us could have realised.  But in the moment, we all fell into the same trap.”

Phantom acknowledged him with a small shrug, shoulders still slumped, unconvinced.

“You did fine,” M’gann piped up from the pilot’s seat.  “Everyone slips a little starting out.  Believe me,” the corner of her mouth quirked ruefully; an echo of old embarrassment.  She let a smile wash it away.  “I made much bigger mistakes my first time.” 

He stilled, catching a tiny piece of the smile and shining it shyly back.  She counted it as a success.

In front of him, Zatanna stretched.  “And anyway,” she leaned back, “it wasn’t like there were no benefits to what we picked.”  She sent the Atlantean a lazy grin.  “If you want to act like I’m your boss some more, I won’t say no.”

It earned her a dry look.  “I believe the phrase is: don’t push it.”

Robin snickered.  “Besides,” the detective flopped artlessly against the side of his own chair, peering over his shoulder at the spirit, “you can’t feel too bad.  After all, was your ice that ended up being the saving throw for the mission.”

A quiet chorus of agreement.

Phantom coughed, thumbing his collar as he glanced away.  “I’m just happy it worked.”  His ears were green.  “Don’t think anyone wanted a surprise swim-class today.”

“Hear, hear,” mumbled the archer. 

Aqualad nodded in time with her, hand lifting to his own neck.  Despite his best attempts he could still feel a grimy smear of oil on his gills.

“In any case, this mission would not have progressed the same without your assistance.”

Artemis kicked the back of Wally’s chair.

“Yeah, yeah,” the speedster offered impatiently, “you did alright.  You know,” he seemed compelled to add, “for a rookie.”

The ghost straightened just enough to roll his eyes at him.

Kaldur’s earpiece buzzed.  He came to attention as he pressed it, listening to the chatter from above.

The Boy Wonder raised an eyebrow.  “Enter Aqualad, stage right?”

An amused hum.  “Something of the sort.”  He sent a nod around the bridge, “I will meet you back at the Cave for debrief.”  The Atlantean headed towards the rear of the ship, Sphere rolling obligingly aside to clear a path to the hatch. 

On impulse, he paused beside the ghost.  Green eyes watched him questioningly. 

“I know it has been said before but,” there was a sense of tradition as Aqualad extended a hand.  After a moment, Phantom shook it.  “Welcome to the Team.”