If You Give a Ghost a Cookie
Danny was so, so tired. And hungry. When was the last time he had a decent meal, he wondered? A week ago? Two weeks? Longer…? The days just seemed to blend together more and more since Jazz left for college.
Danny flew mindlessly over Amity Park, not really looking for anything, just…not wanting to go home. Not that there was really a reason to go home anymore, he thought. Not like his parents will notice he’s not there. With Jazz gone, there was no one there to rein his parents in. No voice of reason to point out they should be eating dinner instead of disassembling weapons on the table. No logical big sister to cite statistics on how poor sleep affects school performance in teenagers when their experiments were shaking the building at 1 o’clock in the morning.
With Jazz gone, his parent’s ghost obsession had reached new heights. Their weapons and experiments grew more deadly by the day and Danny…he was an afterthought…one they barely managed to think of at all most days…Danny was the underachieving youngest child. He was the screw up. The one who fell asleep in class. The one who got detention. At 17 years old and a senior in high school he was leaving the house soon anyway.
Danny’s mind unwillingly thought back to that day, like watching a train wreck he just couldn’t look away. He had been floating around after patrol a bit. Not long, he’d just wanted to stargaze for a while. The sky had been so clear that night. He hadn’t even noticed the sound of the GAV or the whine of the weapons charging until he felt the burning in his thigh from being shot. It was just a graze (a bad graze…but it’s not like his parent’s knew they were shooting at their own son! Plus,he got away quickly like he always did, so it was fine!) He had patched himself up as best he could and gone home.
Walking through the door, he had gone towards the kitchen to get some dinner, maybe even some fudge if his dad hadn’t eaten all of it. His parents had been sitting at the kitchen table, talking about him…not him him. Other him. Ghost him. Phantom. Talking about how close they were to getting him this time. The experiments they could run. What weapons might work better next time. Danny remembered standing there. Only a few feet away, in plain view of his Mom and Dad, while they talked about hurting him. Again. He remembered the blood trickling down his leg having leaked through the hastily applied bandages. Standing silently in the doorway waiting… and…nothing…his parents never spoke to him. They’d never asked if he was hungry. Never asked how his day had gone. Dad didn’t offer fudge. Mom didn’t give him a hug. They were too busy plotting to capture him…to hurt him…
That…that was the tipping point. The last straw. The moment Danny had known he could never trust his parents with his secret. That..they weren’t really his parents anymore. Not the way parents should be.
These days, Jack and Maddie (not Mom and dad, not anymore) really only ever spoke to him to ask why he hadn’t cleaned the lab. Occasionally they would mention him going to college next year. They didn’t ask or notice that Danny hadn’t mentioned any colleges.
Jazz had excelled in school. She had the grades and the SAT scores to apply anywhere and she had done the research on her own. She had applied, she had arranged to tour campuses. She had collected pamphlets and made charts and written pro/con lists. She had done it all without their help.
Danny didn’t have the grades. He didn’t have the SAT scores. He had done a bit better, later on. After that first year, it was easier to handle the ghosts. Technically, as the ghost king, he could just order them not to attack (he never did, he needed to fulfill his Obsessions and so did they). Still, the improvement wasn’t enough. He was only just skating by with passing grades. No college would look at his application and think anything other than “automatic rejection”.
I can’t tell her, he thought to himself for the hundredth time. Jazz deserves to be happy, to become a psychologist and have a normal life. Danny won’t…he can’t take away her dream.
Besides, she can’t help anyway. Not really. Danny’s old dream of becoming an astronaut was laughably impossible now. He had no hope of getting into college much less the kind of college NASA would look for in an applicant and even if he did, he’d definitely fail the physical on account of being, well..dead.
Tucker and Sam would be leaving soon too, then I’ll be completely alone, he thought despondently. That’s where they were this weekend. Sam was touring the University of California, Berkeley and Tucker was looking at MIT. Despite their differing interests and planned majors, they’d even discussed going to the same college together. He hadn’t talked to them about his parents. He tried to keep up a cheerful front for them. He didn’t want to hold his friends back from their dreams anymore than he wanted to drag his sister away from hers.
Danny had halfhearted plans to try and find an apartment and maybe give community college a try. Probably get a job of some kind. Nasty Burger is hiring his brain supplied, Danny winced at the thought. More than one person had told him he’d wind up flipping burgers if he didn’t apply himself more.
He’d also thought about just…leaving. Maybe to the ghost zone? Maybe somewhere else entirely. What future did he have here?
Danny was just so done with everything. And on top of everything else, he thought, word has gotten out the ghost king is back and I get to be summoned by every Tom, Dick and Harry who can get their hands on the spell.
Granted, Danny hasn’t actually accepted a single summons yet. Part of the spell is the offering and he can reject it. He has rejected all of them. That part, the rejecting part, isn’t hard. The first time he did it by accident. It was automatic, instinctual. It’s the entire rest of the process that’s disgusting, he thought with revulsion. When he is summoned, it starts with a vaguely unpleasant pull in his core, tugging at him. It’s annoying but fairly easy to ignore at first. Then, the tugging gets harder, then it starts to take over his senses. Specifically, taste and touch. Sometimes he can hear a bit (Danny has had enough of poorly enunciated Latin to last the rest of his afterlife thank you very much). That first summons (and in way too many since), Danny had tasted blood, overwhelmingly, suddenly, blood. He’d been in English class at the time and had bolted from the room without asking (detention, again) and straight to the boy’s bathroom. He’d barely made it in time to vomit everything he’d eaten that day straight into the toilet.
Apparently, vomiting counts as rejecting the offering. Who knew? Danny has since learned to reject the offerings faster (he hardly vomits at all anymore). Some of the people trying to summon him have mixed it up a bit, gold is a pretty frequent offering. Jewels, of course. Blood though, blood continues to be the most popular choice.
Between the frequent and unwelcome taste tests from hell with the summonings and the lack of edible food at home, Danny would do just about anything for a Klondike bar at this point.
The last few days have been particularly bad. Some asshat (or asshats? Danny’s heard more than one voice) just won’t take the hint and have been summoning him nonstop the last few days. This one felt…further away…that some of the others had. Clockwork had told him the infinite realms was, well, infinite. That it connected to other worlds and realities and dimensions away from his own. That feeling of distance is what made him think this was the same group that had been trying to summon him so insistently.
He just…desperately wanted some warmth. A meal made with love. Even a snack. Someone who cared enough to make something just for him.
The thought passed through Danny’s head, if one of those idiots who keeps summoning me put a decent meal as the offering I might just go…
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Tim was so, so tired. And hungry. God, did he need a cup of coffee. When was the last time he slept? Two days ago maybe? Longer? The long hours and days just seemed to blend together since that initial attack.
An unknown and powerful being had attacked Metropolis 9 days ago. They had wreaked utter havoc and Superman hadn’t been able to even delay them, much less stop them. Nothing Superman could do had even touched the hellish green glowing creature. The entity phased through solid matter like it wasn’t there. It could turn invisible. It could send energy blasts that caused massive amounts of property damage. It could possess people….control them completely. That was the worst one. When Superman tried to stop it. It had fought at first. Then it simply took over.
Controlling Superman, the entity had leveled 3 city blocks before it and grown bored with it’s temporary plaything and left him in the middle of the wreckage. Clark didn’t dare go after him for fear of being controlled again.
The rest of the Justice League had been called in. Others went after the entity. Green Lantern. Flash. Wonder Woman. They all failed. Superman was far from the last to be taken over by the being. The destruction caused was catastrophic. It had moved from Metropolis to other cities, then to other countries with seemingly no pattern or reasoning, carving a path of devastation as it went.
The Justice League Dark was consulted. They didn’t know how it came to be here but they at least knew something of what it was. A being of the infinite realms. A ghost. “Not like you’re thinking,” Constantine had said. “They’re called ghosts, or they call themselves ghosts, at least some of the time, but not all of them used to be people. Beings of the infinite realms are ghosts of a different sort. Not something you want to get mixed up in.”
Next they had tried spells. Artifacts. Rituals. Still, nothing could stop the ghost.
Now, they were down to their last chance. Every other option had been exhausted. This was a the last ditch effort, the hail mary pass, the I hope it works because we have nothing else option. They were trying to summon another ghost to stop the first one. They were trying to summon the ghost king…and it wasn’t working.
The problem was the offering. Constantine had explained the summoning ritual calls for one and the ghost king can reject it so they need to make it good.
They had tried blood first. “It’s traditional”, Constantine had said with a slight grimace. The major league members attending the ritual had all donated (a pint each) for the offering. The blood of the most powerful beings on earth would surely make a good offering and they were out of time. It didn’t work. The ritual had barely begun before it was over, the offering rejected.
Next, the blood of virgins was considered because apparently ancient, eldritch beings can be picky sometimes. After several extremely awkward conversations with various younger superheroes (Tim was thankfully excluded, he’s never been so thankful to live in a family of detectives that know almost everything about each other), the second offering was made and also summarily rejected.
They tried gold, silver, copper. Various precious jewels. They tried magical artifacts (Constantine was not happy at all). One of the league members who had no children and had no intention of ever having children had the clever idea of offering their first born.
Nothing. Nothing was working. Every single offering was rejected. All members of the league not directly involved with the current ritual attempt or benched were out working damage control. They had stopped even trying to defeat the ghost and were concentrating on evacuation. Desperately trying to prevent further lives lost.
Tim was just so done with everything. He had been researching endlessly trying to find something, anything that might work for the offering with no luck. Most of the bat family members had been working damage control and occasionally rotating up to the Watchtower to try and help with the summoning. Tim and Oracle had been put primarily on research. Tim had wanted to help with the situation on the ground. He saw the destruction on his screens. He saw his family coming back lifeless and exhausted. “You and Oracle are the best at finding information,” Batman had said, “we need you here.” So he looked. He sifted through endless archeological reports, arcane texts, ancient poems and ballads and folklore. Trying to find something, anything at all the Ghost King might accept and still nothing.
“Hey baby bird,” Dick said coming up behind Tim, “I brought you some coffee and,” he shifted to a conspiratorial tone with a tired grin, “the last cookie!”
Red Robin gave a brief half smile, he really didn’t have the energy for anything else. “Thanks Nightwing, coming with to the latest attempt?”
“Yeah, maybe this will be the one,” Dick said hopefully as they fell into step with each other, heading towards the room being used for the summoning ritual.
Tim nodded in agreement not making eye contact with Dick. He hadn’t found anything, nobody had. His ever optimistic brother was counting on him and he was letting him down.
They entered the ritual room. Batman was standing with Robin and Black Bat off to the side. He was deep in a discussion with Superman and Wonder Woman about the current relief efforts. Superman and the other league heavy hitters hadn’t been allowed to go back down to the Earth, it was too much of a risk with their power levels if any of them were to be possessed again. Constantine was preparing the circle yet again. This was the 42nd try.
“Anything?” Constantine asked.
Red Robin swallowed and looked down as the room’s occupants turned to look at him. He hadn’t found any new leads. Nothing they hadn’t already tried. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
As he looked down, he saw the coffee and cookie Dick had brought him. One of Alfred’s cookies. The last cookie. The last cookie of the batch was…special…important…sacred even…he thought in an exhausted haze. They all fought over who would get the last cookie. Plus the coffee. Coffee was…he needed it. Coffee was energy and life. It was the only thing that kept him going most days. And…they had tried so many things. Why not this?
Tim looked up and wordlessly held up the cookie and the coffee.
Constantine looked surprised then shrugged. “Why not? We’ve tried every other bloody thing under the sun. Maybe the King has as sweet tooth.”
Tim placed the coffee and cookie in the appropriate place for the offering in the circle and they all stood back as Constantine began to chant.
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It was happening again. Danny felt the tug at his core as yet another summoning was trying to whisk him away to who knows where. He sighed as he mentally braced himself for whatever gross thing they decided to offer up this time. Then, he tasted, chocolate? Coffee? It…it tasted good. Really good. This wasn’t gas station coffee and a store bought cookie. That cookie was…homemade? Or at least from a really good bakery.
Danny wanted that cookie. He’d been wanting something just like this. Just for him. Now it was literally being offered to him.
He shouldn’t. Should he? He’d be pulled to someplace completely foreign. Someplace far away. Very far. He probably couldn’t get back. Not right away. Maybe not ever.
But, there was nothing here. Once Sam and Tucker left he’d be completely alone. Maybe…maybe he should go. Maybe there might be something better? It can’t be worse.
“You know know what?” Danny exclaimed aloud. “I’m going to do it!” For the first time, he accepted an offering. He gave into the tugging feeling and felt himself being pulled away. “At least I’ll have a cookie,” he said as his voice and his body faded away.
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Tim and the Justice League watched the circle as it lit up. Listened as Constantine chanted the words to the summoning. They watched as it reached the point where offerings began to be rejected. They listened as the chant reached the furthest part Constantine had ever recited before the ritual was stopped again. The circle stayed lit. For the first time, Constantine spoke the entire chant without interruption.
For a brief moment, none of them reacted. They had failed so many times they no longer expected success, especially not for a snack. Then they realized it had worked. As one they leaned forward slightly, tense with anticipation. Tim was in shock, he…this…it worked? Every hero in the room was fully focused on the circle. No one moved. They barely breathed waiting for the king to come through.
A single, white gloved hand came up through the floor of the circle. Then another. Then a head of white hair. The Ghost King pushed himself off the floor and floated up and away from the circle.
He’s was…a child or at least very young, Tim thought, analyzing automatically as he was trained to do in spite of his shock. The Ghost King appeared to be about Tim’s age, maybe a bit younger though he could just be on the shorter side. He had pure white hair that seemed to float as though he was underwater. His skin was extremely pale with a slight blueish tint to it. He had pointed ears and bright glowing green eyes. The king was dressed mostly in black with a stylized symbol on his chest of some kind. He had a cape that appeared to be made of the night sky, the stars that shone within, shifting and twinkling as he floated in the middle of the circle. A frozen crown floated slightly above his head glowing as green as the king’s eyes.
The King looked at them all briefly taking in the room. Then he looked down. His entire focus shifted to the offering. He tilted downwards so his head was mere inches from the cookie staring at it. He looked up. “Is this for me?” he asked in a hopeful and somewhat sad voice.
“It’s for you,” Batman said gently. He might be the Dark Knight, feared far and wide by villains (and quite a few heroes), but Batman was also a dad and he whatever they had been expecting, this was clearly a hungry child.
The Ghost King grinned happily, almost disbelievingly and reached down to grab the cookie. The heroes watched in silence as he slowly took a bite. His eyes closed as an expression of pure bliss came across his face. He took a sip of the coffee and let out a small whimper. “This is so good,” the boy king whispered. No one said anything as he enjoyed the rest of his treat.
After he finished it off, the young king seemed to realize everyone was watching him. “Right,” he said in an embarrassed tone as his cheeks tinted slightly green, “Umm so why did you summon me here? Other than sugar and caffeine? Not that those weren’t good! They were!”
Superman hesitated briefly before stepping forward. This was a child. Constantine had warned them they couldn’t react to the King’s appearance but they had all been expecting an eldritch monster. Something terrifying, not a teenager. Still, he had known powerful entities that pretended to be children and he had known children that were powerful and they needed the Ghost King. “I’m Kal-El of Krypton. On Earth, I’m known as Superman. Are you the ghost king?”
“Oh, right. Yes. That’s me. I’m Danny Phantom. High King of the Infinite Realms,” the king responded straightening slightly.
“Your majesty, we summoned you because we need your help. An unknown ghost from the infinite realms is attacking Earth and we can’t stop them.”
“Of course I can help,” the King said and started confidently floating forward only to abruptly stop. He looked confused for a moment, glancing down at the circle understanding dawned on his face. “Okay so, not to be, like, greedy or anything. I would totally help with the ghost for free! But, umm…I think to get out of the circle I’m supposed to make a deal with you? Like, there has to be something your giving me in exchange for your request? Sorry…”
The heroes looked at each other, King Phantom seemed, almost embarrassed to be asking. They had known they would need to make a deal and had discussed what they could offer but they had all anticipated basing their offer on what the Ghost King accepted as a sacrifice. They had braced themselves for a monster demanding blood, an ancient being declaring they would only help if given double their weight in gold. They had no idea what to offer a bashful teenager that showed up for a cookie.
“Roast Beef,” Tim blurted impulsively. He cringed a bit, and thought oops, really shouldn’t be inviting powerful interdimensional beings home without asking first. He quickly glanced at Batman who nodded back. The Ghost King was looking at him questioningly. “Roast beef,” he said again, “with potatoes and roasted vegetables.”
“And rolls, the good soft kind with butter,” Dick chimed in helpfully.
“Dessert,” added Black Bat softly.
The Ghost King’s eyes were wide, “A cookie and dinner, this is the best summoning ever,” he said to himself. He focused on Red Robin and held out his hand with a smile, “Deal!”
Red Robin shook King Phantom’s hand. The circle briefly glowed brighter before the light went out sealing the pact.
“Point the way , umm…I guess I don’t know your name?”
“Yum,” the King responded instantly. At Tim’s look of confusion, he blushed a bright green all the way to the tips of his ears. “I guess they don’t have that in this dimension….it’s, well, never mind.” The King looked away and Tim tried not to laugh (he should not be thinking words like “cute” and “adorable” about the ruler of an entire dimension).
“This way your majesty,” Superman said trying to hide his amusement as he led the way towards the monitor room.
Batman strode towards the main monitor display keying in several commands. “This is the last known location of the hostile entity,” he said indicating the satellite view along with a map view. “We can transport you there and give you access to any resources at our disposal.”
Tim had been watching King Phantom. As they entered the monitor room, his eyes had gone impossibly wide. “I’m in space,” the king whispered in wonder.
With Batman calling his attention to the screen, the Ghost King’s gaze snapped towards him. “No, I don’t need anything, I can get there myself but if you have transport that works too.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Superman asked glancing at the others. All of them silently wondering if this boy could truly defeat the seemingly unstoppable evil spirit that had been plaguing their world.
“This way then,” Superman responded heading towards the Zeta-tubes.
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17 minutes and 46 seconds. That’s how long it took King Phantom to defeat the ghost that had been terrorizing the planet for the last 9 days. I can’t get a pizza that fast, he thought with disbelief. Tim had watched the monitor display, he had noted the time. They recorded everything and he still didn’t believe it. Less than 20 minutes to bring down an entity that had defeated the entire Justice League, all in exchange for Tim’s snack and the promise of dinner.
Phantom floated back up through the floor of the Watchtower. “All done!”
The heroes glanced at each other, still reeling from the powerful display they had just witnessed. Tim saw the Ghost King’s smile falter and an uncertain look come across his face as he saw their reaction.
“Well, sounds like it’s dinner time then, your highness,” he said deliberately injecting cheer into his voice.
King Phantom’s smile returned as he turned towards Tim, “Call me Danny.”
Note: I have read many, many fics but this is the first fic (or the first anything really) I’ve ever written outside of my own head. Thanks for reading :-)
