A/N: Yes, I'm finally getting this story up. I'm typing most of these on the fly, since I've got a pretty good idea of where they're going anyway, but I'm going to want to completely finish this before working on the Psych cross-over, so there'll be a bit of a wait between the end of Cloak and Dagger and the first chapter of Don't Believe the Lie. There will be eleven chapters of this. Probably.
Anyway, enjoy this little bit of backstory!
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It had only been a few weeks since his parents went missing. Four, to be exact. Three since anyone realized that little fact. Two since the bodies were found and Phantom was blamed. One since everyone found out he was Phantom. Six days since they tried to burn down his house. Five days since he left.
Two days since he realized he had no money left. And yesterday he'd discovered that he was desperate enough to start stealing.
Pickpocketing was simple enough, even more so when he could use his ghost powers. He pulled a simple ruse, used mostly by partners, by making a fuss over losing his wallet. Within moments, he knew where all the money was. Then, he simply ducked away, turned invisible and intangible, and snagged two wallets, emptying them of most of their cash before sliding them back into place. Money now in hand, he changed back in an alley before counting it.
Fifty bucks. Danny knew he should save it, try to make it last, but he hadn't had a decent meal in days, and he could already count his ribs. With a promise to himself that this would only be a one-time thing, he walked in to a small diner and sat in a corner table, his back to the wall. He only had to wait a few minutes before a young woman, not much more than twenty-two, came to take his order. She brushed a few wisps of curly blonde hair from her face, most of it held back in a messy bun. Bright green eyes almost glowed as she glanced over her shoulder to respond to a joke sent her way by a fellow waiter. She pulled out a notepad, plucking a pen from behind her ear as she turned back to Danny. She flashed him a huge grin, asking, "I'm Rosie. What can I getcha, hon?"
Danny had gotten a quick glance at their menu board, but that was all that he'd needed to answer the question. "A number four, please?"
She wrote that down, smiling brightly at him once more. "Sure thing, sweetie. Want anything to drink with that?"
A small grin pulled at Danny's lips. "A vanilla milkshake?"
The young woman laughed at the hopeful look on his face. "Will do." She added that to the pad, then stuck the pen back behind her ear and tore the page from her pad. "I'll put this order in for ya and tell the cook to make it up quick."
"Y—You really don't have to do—"
"Oh, sweetie, it's fine! 'Sides, you look like you could use a good meal. So, I'll get the cook to send it out ASAP." She winked and went into the back.
Danny watched her as she moved to the kitchen. focusing his ghost-enhanced hearing to make out the conversation she had with the chef.
"Hey, Jimmy, can I get a rush on this 4-and-shake? Poor kid that ordered it looks like he hasn't eaten in days."
He couldn't hear the chef's muffled reply, but another waiter had chuckled, saying, "Rosie picked up another stray, has she?"
The blonde laughed, batting a hand at him. "Oh, shush, Bobby! You make it sound like I found a dog on the street or something!"
"Oh, you mean you haven't?" The comment was followed by a teasing wink, then, "You gonna tell him about that soup kitchen you help out with?"
"Rosie caught your eye, huh?"
Danny jumped at the too-close voice, glancing up to see that another waiter stood by him. "W—What?"
"Don't you worry none about it, kiddo, everyone falls for Rosie," the older man, lacking the black apron worn by the other waitstaff, continued. "That's why I keep her on."
Danny blinked, shocked to notice the name tag the man was tapping at that read, "Mark Davis, Manager." He tried to stammer out an apology—anything, really—but the man just laughed.
"We get all kinds here, kiddo. Rosie's just good at pickin' out who's honest and who's scopin' the place out."
"I—I'm n—not sc—coping."
Davis laughed. "'Course you're not, kiddo! Rosie wouldn't be settin' ya up with a good meal if you were." The man patted Danny on the back.
Danny stiffened at the contact. "I—I'm fine, sir, really. Sh—She doesn't need to go to any trouble…."
"Nonsense! This is Rosie we're talkin' about! It ain't any trouble, and she won't take no for an answer!"
"But—!"
"Here ya go!" Rosie said cheerfully as she set a plate and drink down in front of Danny. "One number four and a vanilla shake! Anythin' else ya'd like, hon?"
Danny's mouth was watering as soon as he saw the food, but he shook himself out of it to reply, "N—No, ma'am, this is fine, thank you."
"No problem! Let me know if ya need somethin', though." She winked, then headed back towards the kitchen.
Danny waited until she was out of sight, then wolfed down his meal. The shake lasted only five minutes, the meal itself barely two more. Danny pulled out the money he'd gotten earlier, counting out a few bills to pay for the food and tip. Just as he began to lay the money down on the table, Rosie came back over.
She swatted his hand. "Don't bother with that!" she said. "This one's on the house."
Danny blinked up at her. "W—What? But—!"
Rosie grabbed Danny's arm, pulling him up and out of the booth. "Now, c'mon, I'm off my shift, and I know you're still hungry, kid. My dad makes the best gumbo, and we've got an extra room for ya."
For a long moment, Danny just stared at her while she untied and slung off her apron. Then, he blinked. "I—I can't—I don't wanna be a burden, a—and I've gotta be getting home—"
Rosie turned back to Danny, a sad look on her face. "Sweetie, ya can't pull the wool over my eyes. I know a runaway when I see one." When Danny tried to protest yet again, she cut him off. "When's the last time you had a decent, home-cooked meal?"
Danny refused to meet her eyes. After a couple more prompts, he answered, "About a month ago…."
The waitress nodded. "I thought so." She sighed and sat down so she was at Danny's eye level. "Hon, you need a decent meal. Come with me, we'll get you something to eat, and you'll have a warm bed tonight."
Once again, Danny stared for a long time. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. But just for tonight."
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Rosie was practically giddy when they got to her home. She threw open the door, calling out to her father before turning back to Danny. "This is it! I'll show ya 'round once Dad gets down here."
Sure enough, an older man slowly made his way down the stairs, smiling brightly at Rosie. "I see you've brought a friend, Rose." He looked to Danny. "And who might you be?"
"D—Danny, sir."
"Well, welcome to our home, Danny Sir." The man winked. "Obviously you already know Rosie, but I'm her father, Jason Boyd. I'm guessin' you'll be stayin' with us tonight?"
"Um, y—yes, sir."
The man waved a hand at Danny. "Aw, quit that formal nonsense! It's Jason, please."
"R—Right, sorry, si—er, Jason."
Rosie grinned brightly. "I offered him some of your gumbo, Dad," she hinted.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Of course ya did. Well, let's get ya some grub, kiddo."
Within thirty minutes, Danny'd eaten, showered, and dozed off. Rosie and Jason grinned at the boy who'd fallen asleep on their couch, the former grabbing a blanket and tossing it over him and the latter cleaning up the dishes from their dinner. "He seems like a sweet kid," Rosie murmured, turning to look at her dad.
The man shrugged. "You know not everything's what it seems, Rose." Jason glanced back at her. "He'll probably be gone in the morning, Rosie. Most of the kids you bring home are."
She frowned. "I dunno, Dad. I just…. There's somethin' different about this one."
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It took three days. Each morning, Danny woke, packed up, and left. Each afternoon, Rosie would mope, thinking she'd never see the boy again. And each evening, he'd turn back up for dinner and fall asleep on their couch.
For the first two days, Jason had continuously stated that Danny would likely leave and never return, but he dropped it after Danny came back that third day. They soon became used to the scheduling of Danny and Rosie heading out for the day and coming back in time for dinner, and after the first week, Rosie convinced Mark Davis to bring Danny on as a busboy at the diner.
It had been three weeks since Danny first met the Boyds. The two had actually come to feel like family to Danny. He found himself planning his day around their schedules and helping with chores around the house. It was almost like… like being home.
So of course it couldn't last. Exactly twenty-three days after he met Rosie, it happened.
Danny was just coming home from work when he smelled the blood. His eyes went wide, and he rushed towards the kitchen, where Jason could often be found. He threw open the door, bursting in to see—
Nothing. No one was there. For a long moment, Danny just stood there in the doorway, trying to understand where Jason could be before he saw a note on the refrigerator. He moved towards it, pulling the sticky note off the door.
"Rose and Danny,
"I'm heading out to the store. We're out of apples, garlic powder, raisins, broccoli, bread, and basil. I'll be home around eight.
"—Jason"
Danny sighed in relief, slumping against the wall. "Thank God," he murmured, eyes slipping closed.
That coppery smell was still in the air. Danny's eyes shot back open, and he started to search around the house. No one else was home, as Rosie was asked to work overtime today, and each room Danny passed was empty. He'd just started to think that he'd imagined the smell when he came across the guest bedroom, which the Boyds had offered to him.
One glance in, and he ducked back, slapping a hand over his mouth and struggling not to retch. He huddled beside the door, facing away from the room and gulping to clear the bile from his throat. When he got himself under control, he peeked back into the room, wincing at the sheer amount of blood on the floor before following it back to its source.
Bright hair fanned out around the body, splotches of matted scarlet distorting the original color. A turquoise headband had fallen to the floor off to one side, and Danny slowly reached out towards it. His hand enclosed around the accessory, and immediately he knew whose it was.
"Jazz," he gasped, leaning in closer to the body, trying to blink away tears. He moved closer, reaching out again, this time to turn over the body.
The head flopped to the other side, and now Danny could see wide, blank aquamarine eyes, staring unseeingly up at him. He hissed, jerking his hand away and losing his balance. Danny landed in the blood, gasping at the cool liquid and the fact that it hadn't yet dried. This had just happened. She hadn't been dead for more than a few minutes! Which meant….
Danny jumped up, looking around the room hurriedly, worriedly, trying to find any explanation for how she had come to be here. Then, he blinked. "H—How—?" he murmured, staring at the body once more. Jazz was already dead. How could she have possibly died again?
But then he noticed the small paper in her hand. Shaking, he leaned over to take it, pulling his arm quickly back in towards his body once it was in his grasp. Two unsteady hands slowly uncrumpled the paper until he could read it. "That was a good game of hide-and-seek, Daniel, but it seems I found you."
The note fell from his hands, and he backed away from the body, running into the opposite wall. When he felt something sticky against his back, he looked up, screaming in shock at what he found.
There, written in blood, was a warning, specifically for him. "There will be more."
Danny fled.
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Rosie arrived at home as her dad was pulling in. "Oh!" she gasped, surprised that he'd gone out. "I thought you'd already be workin' on dinner!"
Jason grinned, hefting the two bags of groceries. "I would've, but we were missing a few essential ingredients." He tugged out his key and unlocked the door, calling out, "Hey, Danny, we're home!"
Both grins faltered slightly when they heard no reply. Jason quickly covered by shrugging and saying, "He probably took a nap. Go check on him, I'll put the groceries away."
"Alright." Rosie headed back to Danny's room, as she'd come to think of it, and peeked in. "Danny, are you—?" She broke off into a shriek when she saw the room, the message, and the body. Rosie ran to the kitchen, where Jason had paused to find out what was wrong, and babbled to her father about what she'd seen.
"Rosie, Rosie, calm down!" he said. "Try that again, but breathe between words this time!"
She panted for breath before trying again. "There's… a girl… in the... room…."
Jason chuckled. "A girl, huh? Didn't know Danny had it in him—"
"N—No, Dad, she… she was dead!"
The man's eyes went wide. "She—? What? Rosie, are you sure?"
"Yes, Dad, I know what I saw!"
"And—And where's Danny?"
Rosie pouted, eyes watering. "I—I don't know, Dad. He's not in the room, and—" It was then that she saw the note on the fridge. "What's this?"
Jason didn't look. "Hm? Oh, I left a note about going shopping—"
Rosie shook her head. "Th—This note's too short to be about that." She walked over, plucking it off the fridge and reading it once before turning it over and looking at the back. "It's written on the back of your note."
The man stared at her. "What's it say?"
"…'I'm sorry'…."
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A/N: Yeah. That's about the length they'll be, and now you all get where those "sorry" notes mostly came from/began in Red White and Dead. Enjoy.
