A/N: At this point I would like to apologize to all who were disappointed about my taking down of In Pursuit of Justice and my other tales. The storylines had begun to fall apart, and I realized I was better off doing another story entirely. Again, I apologize. This I hope you like. This is set in "The Captain's Table" a metaphysical bar that transcends space, time and universe, and allows great leaders and ship captain's of every era and universe to meet, swap stories, and take a load off. It was originally developed for Star Trek, but I'm bringing it here.

Chapter One

Jasmine Rebecca Fenton walked silently down the streets of the city of Amity Park, her blue windbreaker pulled against her as she skulked among the outage-darkened apartment buildings and trees she She sighed as she walked, alone down the street, barely paying attention to traffic. A lot of stuff happened to us, she thought to herself as she wandered the streets of her city. A lot of things have changed. She looked around her, amazed that the city had repaired itself so quickly from that final apocalyptic battle. She shuddered as she remembered her beloved hometown in flames as part of the battles that had raged throughout the country.

As well in the stars above her head.

She looked up at the twinkling stars above her head. The city still suffered power outages occasionally. They were temporary, and allowed her to see, a sight she rarely saw and caught her breath each time she did. The stars visible from her hemisphere, in all their glory, the great river of the Milky Way running through them all. As she watched the nebulous band of light flow through the night sky, she felt such sadness, for as beautiful as it was, people had died among them, and she couldn't just let that go. The memory caused her to shudder, tears flowing from her blue-green eyes down the beautiful face framed by her red hair.

She continued her march, determined to lose herself in the city and forget the pain of battle that still held her thrall for awhile.

She found herself in the Lemon Tree area, a place of quiet residential neighborhoods and carefully manicured parks. She passed by the alleyway between the last two apartment buildings in the area she walked, prepared to bypass it for the area that had been surprisingly the least-hard hit of the city during the late battle, despite the fact that one of the combat commands for a Marine strike force had been in the area.

It was then she saw it, two double doors sticking out of the middle of an area where previously there had only been concrete.

What are those, she thought to herself as she stared, mouth agape at the wholly unexpected site of two wooden doors with stained glass pane's sticking out of them. There was a sign above them, in neon green, The Captain's Table.

We're in the middle of a power outage, she thought to herself, curious and annoyed, and this place still has power. What the hell?! That and the fact that this, bar, literally had to spring up overnight pisses me off. Determined to get to the bottom of this she marched forward, reassured by the feeling of her sidearms at her side: an energy pistol, the latest deployed by FentonWorks in the last year, and an FN-Five and One, the Belgian made weapon that she used when she had to deal with non-ghost hostile contacts. She pushed through the wooden double doors, and her jaw dropped open. She was standing in a full-fledged restaurant. The floor was made of polished white marble tiles alternating with polished black marble tiles. The tables and walls were made of mahogany and the bar was made of black ebony. She was stunned, not the least of which by the clientele of the place. She'd never seen a more bizarre set of people in one place. There were people dressed in every style of clothing from every era of human history that she knew.

It's beautiful, she thought to herself. But what is it doing here? Who are these people? She moved towards the bar, intent on getting the truth out of the barkeep, a craggly old man who'd lost most of his hair. She at first hated to have to scare an old man, until she saw his eyes, who at the moment were locked on a customer at the bar, powerful, deep and staring, untouched by the infirmity of age. Putting on her best commanding face, she walked over to the bar. The barkeep though, surprised her. He dismissed his customer, an older man with white hair and dressed in what appeared to be a USN uniform from the Second World War, and addressed her immediately.

"I've been expecting you to drop by, Ms. Fenton," he said. "Would you like a drink? I have a nice bottle of non-alcoholic White Zinfandel."

Completely taken aback by the question, Jazz stopped. She was hungry, and thirsty, and some wine and a nice meal did sound good right now, but first some answers. "What is going on here?" She asked, determined to get her question out. "Who are you people?"

The old man smiled at her, "This is The Captain's Table, my dear. A place for great leaders of men from all over the universe and beyond to meet and take a load off for awhile."

She felt her legs start to weaken slightly, she was getting the distinct feeling that she was no longer in her own reality, instead she was in a place much like the Ghost Zone, though, if she were a judge of her surroundings, significantly less hostile. Still though, before her sense of order gave way entirely, she had to ask what was gnawing at her.

"I walked past this spot every day since I was twelve. Eight years later I'm just now seeing this place?"

"Were you a leader of men when you were twelve? Did you do great things?"

"Of course, not," Jazz said.

"Then that explains it," the old bartender said as he wiped out a glass. "To even see the doorway to this place you need to have led people through great adversity at least once. Now would you like that drink? As well as a place to sit down?"

"Yes, please," she said, accepting what the mysterious patron said, surprisingly well. An exclusive club for people like me can't be too bad, she thought to herself.

"Now," he said, as he pulled down a bottle of wine. "The catch is, you must pay for your drinks and food with a story. You can tell anyone, but you have to tell a story. Oh, and don't get surprised if everyone else in the room stops and listens. I'll get you a bottle of wine.

Jasmine stared stunned at the old man as he went back behind the counter.

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A few moments later Jasmine Fenton found herself wandering through the strange establishment, a green bottle of non-alcoholic wine under her arm as she sought a table to sit at. She'd sit alone, except for the fact that she needed to tell someone a story, which wouldn't be too difficult considering the life she'd led since she was sixteen and first began helping Danny battle ghosts. Besides, it would feel good to talk to someone after days of self-imposed exile from the rest of humanity. She scanned the sea of faces, when she saw someone sitting at an oak table along the wall. He was older in his late fifties to early sixties with graying hair. He wore a dark-blue double-breasted tunic, buttoned left to right with red-gold piping that ran down it, and what were clearly pilot's wings on the left breast.

And he was sitting, drinking alone, just like her.

Must've already told someone his story, she thought to herself, and walked towards him.

"Excuse me," she said. "May I sit down?"

He looked up at her with penetrating blue eyes, appraising her silently for a few moments. "Of course," he said in a gravely voice a moment later, gesturing to a seat. "Sit down."

"Thank you," Jasmine said, sliding into her seat.

"So," he said. "You're what nineteen, twenty, a little young to be in here."

"I"ve been through a lot," she said, uncorking the bottle of non-alcoholic wine, and taking a swig, letting the taste soothe her. She set the bottle down, and sighed, and before she could stop herself. "I don't even know why I'm having this drink. I came in here to investigate this place, until I discovered it was in another dimension."

"I've been here a few times over the years," the old soldier sitting across from her said. "People come in here primarily because they want to talk, to get things like whatever you've been through off their chest."

Jazz smiled, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. I'd like that, she thought to herself.

"Before you begin, what's your name?"

"Jasmine Fenton," she said. "Most people call me Jazz."

"Nice to meet you, Jazz," the man across from her said.

Jazz sighed, "It all began when..."

A/N: Tell me what you think? Oh, and guess who her companion is?