Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

FEBRUARY 11, 2021

"NO"

"What do you think, Maddie, should we call our friends in white?" Jack fiddled with the straps on the bench Danny was secured to. He forced his son's jaw open and slammed a gag inside.

"Sure, honey, that's a great idea!" Maddie dumped more ectoranium solution into Danny's slowly emptying IV bag. The butterfly needle was clipped haphazardly to his left cubital vein, the rest of his arm pockmarked from failed attempts to get the thing in. 

Danny hadn't quite gotten all of the ectoranium taken care of. Some of it had slipped through orbit anyway, and through a disgustingly simple procedure involving phosphoric acid, his parents had been able to isolate ectoranium ions and create multiple solutions of ectoranium phosphate. The metal actually behaved similar to nickel, providing similar colors of compounds and similar effects on ghosts to what nickel has on humans. This was great for the scientific world, not so great for Danny.

That solution was currently coursing through his bloodstream, making him extremely nauseous and woozy, unable to function as anything other than a human.

Jack and Maddie finished up their call with the GIW and Dad Jack made his way over to the row of syringes lined up. They all had thick, nasty looking needles attached to their ends. After all, ghosts can't feel pain, can they? The largest one over by the ecto-ray was filled with some sort of green fluid, either a very good sign, or a horrible sign for Danny. He didn't register much more than that before the gigantic needle was stuck into his neck.

FEBRUARY ???, 2021

He came to with his wrists zip-tied to his ankles and his head bumping up against some sort of wooden surface. There were fresh stitches on the back of his neck, under which he could feel some sort of lump. He still couldn't go ghost. Danny tugged feebly against his bonds, but it only resulted in the plastic ties digging harshly into the meat of his arms and legs. He could hear road noise, feel slats of metal bolted together against his bare back. There was a harsh thump and Danny jolted upward. Judging by the pothole, he was definitely in a moving vehicle.

The truck? van? rattled along a straight road, wheels bouncing minutely and swaying the floor of his enclosure to the rhythm of sixty-five miles per hour. One of the drivers yelled something, but he was too sleepy to really catch it. 

Serration? Temptation?

Oh.

"Sedate him!"

The lump on the back of his neck beeped and everything went dark again.

???????? ???, 2021

Above him there was white, so much white. Almost like a doctor's office. But there was no heart rate monitor hooked up to him, nothing evaluating his blood oxygen levels, no friendly, kind nurses with Hello Kitty masks and patterned scrubs. Instead there was a harsh, blinding light stationed just above his open eyes.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only resulted in the glaring white light turning into neon green. It was like a twisted dentist, the same minty-alcoholic scent of antiseptic, the same lingering taste of gloves in his mouth. The only noticeable difference was the throbbing ache in his neck and the distinct feeling of hard leather straps tight against his ankles, wrists, torso, and neck. 

A door opened, a metal cart rattled through, footsteps followed, then the door was shut. The doctor? whispered something to themself and the snap of gloves being secured around wrists sounded out as Danny wriggled his legs against his bindings. 

beep beep beep--click--hissssss

The doctor? swore under their breath and something snapped shut. Danny's eyes were still squeezed tightly shut against the harsh light. A faint whirring noise filled the room, another click, and then the whoosh-thud of some sort of tube sliding into place. Another click echoed around the room with a sound like a latch soon after. 

A pen scratched against a paper on a clipboard, then Danny flinched as a loud screaming noise filled the room he was in. The screaming continued while the doctor? swore and shuffled around some utensils on the table. There was another sequence of beeps, another click and hiss, the sound of a tube being filled with liquid, then poured into another. Another tube slid into place, and another latch-like click sounded out before being overtaken by a soft whirr. 

The doctor? picked something up and uncapped it, metallic by the sound of it, then Danny's right eye was peeled open. He thrashed against the table straps as the doctor, now obscuring the light from above, reached to the side for some tool or the other. She gripped onto his top eyelashes with unforgiving latex, and without warning, raised her tool and fastened Danny's eyelid securely to his brow bone, transfixed by sterile titanium staples. 

Danny whimpered lightly before closing his throat to choke off any noise. 

If he made noise, they would think he was pretending, and it would only get worse. 

His lower eyelid got the same treatment, gripped harshly with matte latex and pinned to his cheekbone, his eye now exposed in sharp, unmoving contrast to the rest of his contorted face.

A quick series of deep pokes in and around his eye numbed the area, rendering him unable to clench against the thick staples holding his lids in place. Thick, oozing green fluid was beginning to pool on and around his pupil and iris, his left eye rolling in sympathy as he was unable to rid himself of his obstructed vision. 

The Doctor dripped a translucent solution into his open eye, clearing his vision, but his mind was unfortunately locked onto the only thing he could see, a nasty looking fine-tipped scalpel that approached nearer and nearer until he could feel the pressure of it just below his iris, sliding, but not hurting. Another incision was made to the right and left, then the top, then something was lifted out, and he lost all focus in that eye. 

Then something was in him. Slid right through the gaping hole of his pupil, desperately dilating in the hopes of getting more information to focus his eyes. That same thing slid out, dripping salt-smelling fluid onto his upper lip, dripping down through his tightly-pressed lips into his silently screaming mouth. It tasted like tears. 

His fingers flushed brown from where they were holding leather straps in death grips. The skin over his knuckles was screaming in strain over the stretch he was putting it through. 

There was now a heavy feeling in the hollow of his eye. Whatever that thing was, it left something in there. Danny desperately fought back a wave of nausea as the Doctor turned around, seeing to whatever had finally stopped whirring. A tube was pulled out, then there was the distinctive sound of a pipet tip being discarded, then a syringe flicked to be rid of excess air. 

The Doctor approached him again, yet another sharp pain in his already aching neck, then Danny was down for the count once again. 

??????????? ???, 202?

The Doctor's footsteps were familiar, always had been from Danny's first day at the facility. There was a certain click to her heels against the hard linoleum-tile floors. There were others he knew now too. Adam, her assistant. Jordan, the lab tech. But the Doctor had only been referred to as Doctor, no first name, no last name, just her title. 

Adam seemed to be more than a little in awe of her, following her around the room like a puppy hot on her heels, doing anything she would ever ask of him with a yes ma'am and a squeak of acknowledgment. Jordan was a bit more hesitant. They always stayed out of her way, addressing her curtly but respectfully, never saying more than they had to. Their voice was distinctive, a kind of husky rasp that seemed to whistle and curl around the ends, the voice of a smoker. 

Danny liked Jordan's voice, he found it soothing. Adam grated on his nerves. 

Here, splayed out on a stainless steel table, sedative coursing through his veins, he couldn't form many opinions, let alone thoughts. The Doctor would slit open a different part of his body each time he woke up, orating tonelessly to Adam who wrote down dutiful and extensive notes on her process and findings. He didn't know how often he woke up. Danny only knew that every time he was brought out from his sleep, he was subject to large amounts of lidocaine and even larger amounts of tiny slits in his skin.

The lidocaine wasn't for his comfort, he knew that now. The lidocaine was so he didn't twitch. He learned that the first time they opened up his trachea.  They'd strapped his chin against the table, criss cross straps across his chest as well. That was also the first time he'd screamed, all the way up until she propped open his vocal cords, allowing only air to escape. 

Danny didn't know how old he was. By his count, he'd only woken up 56 times so far, but he could've miscounted or not been lucid enough to count during some. In the brief pauses between sedation and anesthetic, he could feel the dozens of tubes providing him nutrients and fluids. He wasn't sure if it was worse to be awake or asleep. 

He drifted back into nothing. 

???????? ???, 202?

The last time Danny woke up, the facility was blessedly, blissfully dark. He'd been taken off the table and placed in a bed of some sort, still surrounded by tubes and wires monitoring his existence. Unfortunately, he'd also been taken off painkillers. He was keenly aware of every even stitch made in his chest, every long, deep gash in his flesh, every tiny little cut made to test the sharpness of the Doctor's instruments. 

He gingerly opened his eyes. His right eye, predictably, was out of focus and heavy. His left eye, surprisingly, was completely fine, well, as fine as it could be considering he hadn't opened it outside of bright light for who knows how long. 

He reached a long fingertip up to his right eye, feeling along the surface until he happened upon the square hole in his cornea. He carefully leaned over his bed and shook his head. Something white and chrome dropped out of his skull. It felt huge, but in actuality was around the size of a particularly large grain of sand. The relief was immediate. 

He tested his legs to see if he was fit to get out of bed and discovered that since the sedative had worn off, he could float. He slammed his hand against the bed and discovered that yes, he could turn intangible too. 

He bolted. He flew straight up until he reached fresh air, then even higher to get a vantage point of his surroundings. Alarms started blaring below him. 

A different alarm blared off to the right, no, not an alarm, a train.

He zipped down to hide away in one of the cars, tucking himself behind a pile of boxes of jeans and curling into his hospital gown, not daring to breathe loud enough to be heard by a dog. Not daring to breathe. 

Danny drifted into a troubled sleep, for the first time in a long time, by choice. 

SOMETIME IN WINTER, 202?

Danny stumbled out of the rail yard, momentarily stunned by the brightness of the yellow sodium lamps after the complete darkness of his train car. There was still an accursed lump on the back of his neck keeping him from doing anything particularly powerful, but he would fix that as soon as he got a knife and some time. 

It was cold, he realized, bare feet creating grimy tracks against wet, flaky snow, more reminiscent of freezer burn than anything he'd seen in Illinois. 

We're not in Illinois anymore, are we Toto? He thought deliriously. Where's my fuckin' Toto, huh? 

A shadowy figure stalked toward him straight from the front. He didn't notice until his nose was knocking right up against their helmet. He could've sworn he wasn't that tall. 

The voice that came from the helmet was surprisingly gentle, rasping softly in the same sort of way that Jordan's had.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

He didn't register much more than that before the device in his neck beeped, and he passed out.

When he came to, he was immediately aware of two things. 1. This was the most comfortable surface he had ever laid on, and 2. He was in handcuffs. A third observation came keenly after, he wasn't being watched. He was also fully clothed. 

Danny phased his hands through the handcuffs with a scoff and dropped them off the side of the couch he was laying on. He peered over at the coffee table, noticing a recent-looking copy of the news. It was Valentines Day 2024. He turned over, pulled the blanket on his stomach up to his chin, and promptly fell back asleep. 

"How'd you do that?" Danny just shrugged. The man in the helmet from earlier was sitting in front of him, holding up the handcuffs that Danny had phased out of earlier. 

"I know trained professionals who couldn't get out of these, what makes you different?" Danny shrugged again, this time smirking a bit to let the man know he wasn't getting anything out of him.

"Do you need a job?" Danny nodded tentatively. He certainly wasn't going to turn one down if it was offered. He opened his mouth, nothing but a croak escaping at first. 

"Are you offering?" His voice was thick and cracked from disuse, sounding more like a screech on a chalkboard than anything resembling human. The man nodded his response. 

Danny swallowed. He nodded back. 

Chapter Text

MARCH 11, 2021

It had been one month now since the GIW had taken Danny. In their rage and rampage, they'd cornered Jazz, Tucker, and Sam and shot the lot of them. Ellie was there when it happened. They shot her too, she didn't even have to play dead as the shock of having her friends taken away from her overtook her. Ellie checked the Realms, at least for now, they weren't there. They'd passed on.

She couldn't even go to save him. She knew she was less powerful than him, and if they had gotten him, they would get her too. It was better that one of them was out and free rather than both of them being in captivity. 

He would've turned 18 in less than a month. She had nothing left in Amity Park. With Technus's help, Ellie created a new, legal identity for herself, forging medical records, school ceremonies, even visits to Chuck E Cheese. She was now Celeste Nightingale, and she was a part of the Chicago City foster system.

Before going to the halfway-house, Ellie cast the most powerful anti-scry spell she knew on herself. It would do no good to have nosy eyes like that Constantine fellow constantly checking in on the royal family. 

And now here she was, crying in a cramped, harshly lit stall in the washroom of a Starbucks because she'd just been to the Adler Planetarium, and Danny had always wanted to go. Her foster parents, an old wealthy couple, were ordering their drinks in the main cafe, likely something hot due to the Hawk. 

She sniffed lightly, glad there was somehow no one else in the washroom of the busy cafe, and unlatched the door to the stall, unhooking her tote bag from the hanger positioned at the top of the door. She stepped slowly up to the well-lit mirrors, pumping shitty soap into her hands and foaming it up to rub circles at the streaky mascara coating her cheeks.

Nothing remained of her despair on her face except the puffiness of the bags under her eyes and the odd soapy sud stuck in her eyebrows. She ripped a paper towel from where the dispenser was stationed on the green tile wall and patted her face dry, careful not to rub anywhere near her irritated eyes. She exited the washroom.

APRIL 3, 2021

Why was it that every time something good happened, Ellie had to cry? This time, instead of an embarrassing stint in a Starbucks washroom, it was at her own birthday party. A party that should've been shared. 

Her foster parents, the Tysons, the same kind couple she'd been staying with for nearly 2 months, had decided to adopt her. She wiped at her cheeks roughly, bidding her tears to absorb back into her eyes and let her enjoy this moment.

"You don't have to say yes, honey, it's okay if you're not comfortable with that yet." Mr. Tyson brushed her bangs away from her eyes lightly, faint wrinkles around his eyes crinkling lightly from where his face was positioned just a couple of inches above hers. She melted into his hug.

"I'm plenty comfortable with it. Are you guys sure you want to adopt a teenager, though? I'll probably be off to college in just 2 years." She knew it took anywhere from a couple months to a year to have the paperwork done officially, that shortened their time even further. 

She looked up at Mrs. Tyson, silently asking for her opinion. 

"Ellie, I agree with Henry, we wouldn't be offering this to you if we weren't sure." Mr. Tyson hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak.

"Y'know, we aren't getting any younger. And at our age, it would be too much to care for a child. I don't think I have it in me to wake up at all hours of the night for a baby, let alone running after a screaming toddler. For us, a teenager is really the best choice. We still get to see you grow up, bit it isn't such a pain on our joints." Ellie nodded along. 

It made sense on paper. They needed an heir, and they didn't have any biological children to give their fortune to. From what she'd heard, they didn't have any surviving nieces or nephews either, and of their younger cousins, all were too incarcerated to inherit anything.

It made sense that they were looking for someone to continue their legacy. She didn't know why they didn't pick a random family friend, but hey, she would take what she was given. They'd enrolled her in a public school under her new name. She was finally getting a proper education. She should've been happy. 

But he would've turned 18 today. He would've known where he was going to college. He'd gotten into Princeton on Early Action, back in December. Aerospace Engineering. 

She looked up at Maria, fiddling with a piece of dry skin on her thumb as she did so. 

"If you guys are truly sure about this, then I would love to be your daughter." Henry beamed at her, dragging her to her feet and into a hug. Maria circled her arms around the both of them from Ellie's back. Ellie's arms slowly drifted up and around Henry's broad back, squeezing gently. 

She would do her best to be happy.

DECEMBER 10, 2022

It was nearly a year now, 10 months since Danny had been taken. Her power was growing, slowly but surely, but she would still need a little over a year to have enough to get him back. She continued pouring ecto into the slowly growing ball in her palms.

She'd been practicing expending as much as she could into a tiny orb, easily reabsorb-able, but good for pushing her limits of usage.

Ellie's sweaty bangs stuck to her face, unruly ends tickling the bridge of her nose, very much in need of a trim. She shifted the ball into a single hand, using the other to sweep her lank hair out of her face, twisting it and tucking it up into her headband, safely out of the way.

She slumped slightly against her headboard, moving the ball back to both hands and revitalizing her efforts to force as much energy as possible into it. Only when she started to get lightheaded did she allow the ball of pure ectoplasmic energy to melt back into her palms. 

Ellie's skin was flushed pink from exertion, face and body sweaty and hair in need of a wash. She slid off the side of her bed and stalked across her room to grab her towel and a change of clothes, making off towards the bathroom to clean herself off. 

As she showered, she couldn't help but let her mind wander to her college applications. Half of her Early Action decisions came out that day, and if she was being honest, that whole training exercise was a convenient way to get her mind off things. She was applying for the same major as him. 

Aerospace engineering. She was aiming for Gotham University, specifically. It had the second best program in the country, only ranking after the MIT. Plus it would give her an opportunity to shake off her rust and try again at the whole vigilante thing, this time without nearly as much ghostly nonsense. 

She pumped shampoo into her hand, lathering it up into her roots, washing, then smearing conditioner through her long black locks. She washed herself perfunctorily, then washed off her hair, quickly exiting the shower and getting dressed while her hair sat wrapped in a towel turban. 

She ran back to her room, tossing her towel over the edge of her chair, and plopped down on her bed with her laptop, booting up the application portals for various universities. 

She checked the Ivies first. She'd gotten into Princeton, just like him, but none of the others. She'd been rejected from CalTech. Expected. She'd been deferred from University of Chicago, that was fair.

And there it was, in all it's glory: her Gotham U acceptance letter. They were proud to inform her? She picked up her laptop and rushed downstairs, banging her elbow on the start of the banister going down. 

"MOM, DAD! I GOT IN!" She grinned brightly at her adopted parents, them being quick to return her expression.

"Where, honey?" She slammed into her dad, setting her laptop down on the dining room table as she went. 

"GOTHAM U!" He swept her up into a hug, spinning her around, his mustache tickling her browbone. 

"Congratulations, Star! I know how much you've been looking forward to that." Maria called from the kitchen. A moment later, the schlick of the blender being unplugged sounded out and her mom strolled out from the other room. She joined her husband's bear hug with Ellie. 

Yeah, she could be happy.

SEPTEMBER 1, 2023

Ellie bounded up the stairs to the Literature building with her maroon canvas backpack in tow. Almost every single freshman in the entirety of Gotham U was taking the class, no matter how many professors and times there were, it was bound to be packed. Her bangs were freshly styled, hair back in her now signature style of two long braids, and her stationery was even organized. She was so ready for this.

As she stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, she noted the distinct lack of people towards the bottom left of the seating arrangement. She made her way down the hall steps and over to the rough middle of the blank area, situating herself with her laptop and a notepad on the tiny writing tablet the seats provided. She pulled out her phone and checked the time, noting that she was around 10 minutes early.

She continued messing around on her phone, eventually making her way over to her beloved app of Metro Mailmen. She was busy hopping over barriers and dodging trains when, off to her side, she noticed a boy of around her age perching himself next to her. He looked over her shoulder at her game and watched. When she eventually got hit by a train, she put her phone down on top of her notebook and turned sharply to face him.

He flinched back, as if he didn't expect her to confront him.

"Hi, nice to meet you! I'm Timothy, but call me Tim." She hummed in acknowledgment. He broke their awkward not-so-silence.

"What's your major? I'm in Business." 

"No offense dude, but why are you talking to me? I thought this was Gotham, aren't there supposed to be a distinct lack of jagoffs like that here? For all you know, I could be a serial killer."

"Hmm. Pittsburgh or Chicago, then." Ellie squawked. "You don't know that I'm from Gotham. And for your information, father dearest told me to go out and make friends. I have plenty of them, but apparently the online kind don't count." Ellie stared back. "Also I highly doubt you're a serial killer." Ellie nodded begrudgingly.

"Well then, consider a friend made. I'm Celeste, but you can call me Ellie. And yeah, I'm from Chicago." He looked at her imploringly. She sighed. 

"Aerospace Engineering." He was still staring. She stared back. He really had quite nice eyes. Tim looked away.

OCTOBER 1 2023

Tim and Ellie had become good friends in the month's time that they'd known each other. They would meet frequently for coffee and study at a cafe near Ellie's dorm. Tim apparently lived in an apartment, he must've still been staying with his parents. This time, Ellie ordered a London Fog, with Tim getting his usual caffeine-loaded monstrosity. 

They were able to discuss classes with each other, at least for now. Gen-ed requirements were inescapable for any and all freshmen, no matter what classes you took beforehand. And Ellie couldn't deny that there was something nice about talking with another person like a friend, even if she was starting to have not-just-friendly feelings towards him. 

Across from her, he sipped gently at his cup, coughing lightly when his abomination proved too hot currently. Ellie patiently warmed her hands on her vanilla-scented mug, fingers turning pink from contact. She bent over slightly to slurp at the sweet foam that had collected on the rim, savoring the citrusy notes of bergamot wafting up from her drink.

Eventually, as he stopped coughing, he straightened up from where he was hunched over his cup and addressed her. 

"Have you ever mapped out your family tree?" Her hands gripped tighter onto her mug as she considered the question. 

"No. I'm no-contact with my birth parents. My adoptive mom and dad are the best ones I could ask for, though." He stared down into his dead-eye. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive."

"You didn't know." She placed her tea-warmed hand onto his still freezing one. "I don't tend to talk about it." He inhaled, then continued. 

"It's fine, I'm adopted too. My birth parents were never really around." She squeezed his hand, then drew her own back. They sat in companionable silence for a while. 

"So what about that Knights game last night?" Ellie nearly spit out her tea.

NOVEMBER 18, 2023

Their relationship was still relatively new. A little over two weeks ago, they'd drunkenly made out at Ellie's roommate's Halloween party, and since then they'd been officially dating. 

Tim had stated, quite clearly, that under no circumstances would she be invited to Thanksgiving without at least a month to emotionally prepare, so this year that was put on the back burner. She was flying back to Chicago anyway to visit her parents. She was dying to see them, bi-weekly calls weren't enough. 

She was at a metro station, waiting for her train to the airport,  armed only with her backpack full of a day's clothes and a charger (everything she needed was at home), when a strange man hurtled down the stairway and into the station, wielding guns connected to a backpack with tubes of what appeared to be ketchup and mustard? 

Ellie knew Gotham was weird, but this was pushing it a little. She couldn't really be talking, though, not with the kind of ghosts she used to face on the daily. A familiar voice rang throughout the station. 

"C'mon, Mitchell, you can't keep doing this." Tim?  "This is the third time in the past month. Did working at Batburger not help?" She stared in shock at the vigilante standing in the foreground. Red Robin was Tim?

They had the same build, same height, same hair. Same faint liminality that was a bit more than your typical Gothamite. It couldn't not be. 

"You can't stop me, Double-R, or I'll...I'll..." Mitchell (apparently) looked around the room and locked on Ellie. "I'll cover her beautiful jacket in mustard!" Why was it always her?

Ellie's train came, and she hightailed it onto the cab before her jacket was vandalized with sour yellow slop. She could hear the tones of a conversation with the crazed man continuing past the closed doors of the train, and she sighed at the events of the day.

Her first boyfriend, and he just had to be a vigilante.

JANUARY 4, 2024

She was going to tell him today.

Finals had just finished before break, and they had both had time with their families to decompress. She had flown in 4 hours prior and asked him to meet with her outside her dorm. 

The January chill sunk in to her bones, welcoming her like an old friend, one of the perks of having an ice core. She still loved to layer up and dress warm, though. In her opinion it left much more choice for customization than summer outfits. She was dressed today in two pairs of fleece-lined tights, a pleated black skirt, and a navy blue puffer jacket. Her bangs were tucked under a black beanie, her braids hanging out to the side as if they were connected to her hat. Her feet were protected by a sensible pair of black boots, fluffy white socks pulled on under them for an extra layer of warmth.

Tim jogged up to her, prying her hand out of her pocket and taking it in his own. As always, he was freezing. They walked together down to the campus gardens, reveling in the lack of fog on the cold winter day. He tilted his head to kiss her cheek, then dragged her along a path to a bench under a leafless ash tree, brushing the light layer of frost out from under them before they sat. 

"I missed you." She smiled. "I missed you too, Tim."

"How was Chicago?"

"It was good. I liked seeing my parents again, even got to meet a few of my high school friends. How was Gotham?"

"Same old. Had a family get together. My brother showed up for Christmas for the first time in what feels like years. It was good to have him around." She hummed, resting her head against his shoulder.

"There's something I need to tell you." He leaned closer, listening.

"I know something about you that you probably don't want me knowing. If you want me to sign an NDA, that's fine, but just know that I would never betray you, not for anything, not to anyone." He sighed. 

"Yeah, I knew something like this was coming." She snapped straight.

"Wait what?" He shrugged.

"You were bound to find out about my family at some point." Wait what?

"I'm not talking about that, Tim." He froze, looking at her like a deer in headlights.

"I don't know who your family is Tim, I'm talking about your nighttime activities." He hung his head, bringing his hands up to cradle his cheeks. He sighed in resignation.

"And you're fine with it?" Ellie snorted. If only he knew.

"Yeah Tim, I'm fine with it."