My first entry for Phic Phight!

Prompt by Datawyrms: Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone.

"Shit," Valerie cursed, deactivating her hoverboard and gently placing the figure on the ground. "Shit, shit, shit."

Bright green liquid soaked the ghost's body, dripping off his waist and painting the grass in a steady stream. It was ectoplasm, something inhuman and twisted, and yet when Valerie looked down, all she saw was how closely it resembled blood.

She raised a shaking hand and attempted to brush away some of the green on her suit. But she looked more green than red at this point and all she could think of was how much ectoplasm was outside the ghost's body.

It was too much.

They'd been ambushed after a ghost fight, the Guys in White having caught them in one of their special nets. Valerie had tried to yell out that she wasn't a ghost, she was human, but it was no use. They zapped the net, and her vision was shrouded in darkness.

The next thing she knew, she was in a van, trapped with her biggest rival in Amity Park. Phantom was awake, but he didn't know how long they'd been in the van for. Hours passed before the van stopped at last. But at that point, they had a plan.

As soon as an operative opened the back, Valerie was on him. She knocked him out, stole his gun, and bolted.

Apparently, Phantom wasn't so useless without his powers either. By some miracle, he managed to find a way to remove his inhibitor collar and take flight.

But that was when all hell broke loose. Right as he'd paused to free Valerie from her inhibitors, someone landed a shot on him.

And he fell.

Valerie didn't have time to think. She just grabbed his body, activated her hoverboard, and flew, not sure where she was going but unwilling to stop until she was sure she'd lost the agents.

"Fuck." She threw off her helmet and looked down at Phantom's unconscious form. There was a hole in the stomach of his suit, and ectoplasm bubbled and sparkled in the harsh sun.

He was going to die, Valerie realized. What happened when a ghost died? Could they even die?

"Stay with me," she whispered.

She shoved a hand in her belt for her emergency supplies, but her glove was too slippery, and her hand trembled too much. She couldn't do this. She ripped off her glove and tried again, trying to ignore the way the ectoplasm trickled between her fingers.

She had a bit of gauze, a tube of instant clot powder, a few butterfly clips, and a few large bandages. It wasn't much, but it would have to work.

Because the alternative…

She set the supplies down and turned back to the unconscious ghost. His glow was almost nonexistent, and for the first time she could see his face clearly. All the grooves of skin, his pores, the individual hairs on his eyelashes and eyebrows. He had freckles. That tiny, human detail Valerie would have thought impossible for a ghost.

Even the more humanoid ghosts always had some slight haze to them, something that just made them more like a realistic doll than a person. But not Phantom. If it weren't for the white hair and ectoplasm, she would have thought him to be just a regular teenager.

"Stay with me."

She needed to take his jumpsuit off. Could she even do that? Was it attached to him? Would taking it off just hurt him more?

For a moment, Valerie knelt there frozen, unsure of what to do. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of burnt battery acid and lime, and she could only stare as the Phantom's face slowly grew paler and paler.

She pinched herself. "Snap out of it." She'd dealt with worse, this was just a ghost. A ghost that she didn't even like. A ghost that she'd spent the last two years chasing out of Amity Park.

She could do this.

Grabbing her swiss army knife out of her belt, she began carefully slicing through the fabric. Her damp hands were immediately filled with green goo, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that her fears were correct and that the jumpsuit acted like a second skin for Phantom.

But then she saw a black t-shirt peeking out underneath the jumpsuit, and she realized with a shaky breath of relief that the suit simply melted if it wasn't attached to the host.

Of course, that made sense. She'd seen Plasmius rip off his cape before and it had dissolved in thin air. How could she have forgotten?

She made quick work with removing the jumpsuit, and had started on the undershirt as well when Phantom groaned.

She froze, unable to move the slightest muscle, as she watched Phantom's drunk green eyes slowly flutter to life.

"Don'..." he slurred.

"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked. "You're hurt, I'm sorry."

She tried to resume cutting his shirt, but he lazily swatted her hand away. "Don'..."

"Phantom, stop. I need to get this off you."

"Stop..."

"I gotta do this," she said, tearing his t-shirt. "It's just a shirt."

"S'ugly," he mumbled, his eyes rolling back. His head lolled to the side, and he was out again.

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be—"

Her voice cut off, and she sucked in a breath. Tattooed on Phantom's skin were glowing lightning figures that branched from his shoulder, snaking around his chest and stomach as if they were alive.

Valerie had never seen anything like it before, and she could have dismissed them as just ectoplasmic tattoos. But from Phantom's reaction, she had a sneaking suspicion that these were something much more serious. Much more personal.

Something that she didn't have time to think about right now. Something that was getting covered by ectoplasm, something that was losing its bleak glow as the aura around Phantom faded to nothing.

Time was up. She needed to act now.

Ripping off the packaging, Valerie got to work.

The sky was clear, glittering with thousands of stars. It was one of those rare nights where the milky way was visible, arcing the sky with its brilliance.

Valerie had never been one to care about nature. Growing up rich in the city, her focus was always materialistic. She just wanted to fit in with the other girls, so she'd been more than willing to follow along with their hobbies and model her life after their trends.

Nature? Space? Stars? She never gave them a second thought.

Until her life was turned upside down, that was. Suddenly, Valerie went from hardly spending time outside to now soaring through the sky every night, weather be damned. It didn't take long for her to appreciate the beauty of a clear, warm, night sky.

She landed on top of a building and collapsed her hoverboard. It had been quiet thus far, with only a few ambient blob ghosts roaming around a warehouse. Although at the beginning of her ghost hunting career, Valerie had spent each night painstakingly capturing every ghost in sight, she'd grown since then. She wasn't so angry, so vengeful now.

And aside from being completely harmless, even Valerie had to admit there was something almost cute about the tiny bulbs of ecto energy.

Her suit dinged, signaling a ghost nearby, and Valerie groaned. There really was no rest for the weary, it seemed.

She raised her radar watch to her eyes to see a familiar ecto signature reading pop up in the corner.

One that was heading towards her.

Shit.

She hadn't seen Phantom since that day. He'd been avoiding her. And maybe a few months ago she wanted him to avoid her, but now...

That day had changed her.

It was terrifying the way the government had so easily lumped her in with the ghosts just because they detected ectoplasmic readings from her suit. She woke up not knowing where she was, where she was going, if she'd ever see her father again.

Part of Valerie had insisted that once they saw her without her helmet, they'd call her dad and drive her back. It would have all been a big misunderstanding.

But a different part of her, one deep down inside, knew she was just lying to herself.

The government operated the way she did when she first started ghost hunting. All black and white, no room for grey. Ghost were evil and all ectoplasm needed to be destroyed. Period.

After she patched Phantom up in that grassy field, she flew and flew until she stumbled across a nearby town. She hid Phantom in a warehouse and sat with him for hours, forcing herself to stay away and stand guard in case the GiW found them.

He didn't wake up until the next morning, taking one look between Valerie and his exposed torso before panic struck his features and he simply disappeared. Before Valerie could gather her wits to hunt his ungrateful ass down and kill him again, he reappeared, suit intact, and began leading their way back to Amity on instinct alone.

Phantom refused to look her in the eye for the entire trip home. And when they finally got to Valerie's apartment, left her with a "get some sleep" before disappearing once again.

Her watch buzzed lightly against her skin, signaling that he was close. Valerie leaned back, waiting. Seeing if he'd actually come to her, or if he'd bail and pull the vanishing act he was so famous for.

But then he appeared. Right in front of her. His glow was vibrant against the night sky, covering his body in a shimmery aura. His acidic green eyes glistened in the dark.

He really looked no worse for wear after his injury. That kind of hit would have landed Valerie in the hospital. And yet, Phantom was back the next day, full of bright smiles and puns for the people of Amity.

She wondered how often this kind of thing happened to him. Just how many times had he been nearly slaughtered only to pop back into the public eye pretending like nothing happened?

He gave her an awkward wave. "Hey, Red."

"Phantom." She greeted cooly.

Just because lately she'd been seeing Phantom as someone who didn't have an inherently evil Obsession didn't mean that she liked him. At best, he was cocky, arrogant. At worst, he'd dumped her back at her apartment and left her by herself after the complete shit show that was their kidnapping.

So yeah, maybe she was a little bitter. Sue her.

"Uh, do you mind if I…" He gestured to the roof.

She pretended to mull his proposition over, watching as his ghostly tail flickered in anxiety.

He was ready to bolt, and she didn't blame him. They'd never really talked before.

"Do what you want. I don't feel like fighting tonight," she finally conceded.

Relief spread across Phantom's features, and Valerie was once again reminded of how human he was. She once thought that ghosts couldn't feel any emotions. While it was doubtless that the way they experienced emotions was different than how humans did, there was just no way that Phantom was able to nail all those tiny details so accurately. Even if he was one of the more powerful ghosts out there, it would have been near impossible to mimic the full range of human emotion so quickly and precisely.

He settled down next to her, his tail morphing into legs positioned criss-crossed against the concrete. He turned to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

Valerie said nothing, just allowing the blanket of awkwardness to settle over the pair. If he wanted to say something, he could say it. Valerie wasn't going to hand-hold him through a conversation.

When the tension was reaching the point of unbearable, Phantom finally broke the silence. "It's a nice night."

"Sure is."

"I haven't—uh, seen any ghosts. Tonight, I mean. Like outside. Or inside, too. Uh...it's a quiet night. Ghost free. Well, except for me, I guess."

"Yeah."

He ran a gloved hand through his white hair. "Not that I'm really complaining. It's kinda nice to have a break for a change."

Valerie grunted in agreement, even though she was sure Phantom was lying through his teeth. Ghosts lived for their Obsessions, and Phantom was no different. She knew that deep down, he reveled in ghost hunting even more than any human ever could.

The duo was lapsed back into another tense silence, one that Valerie didn't try to break. She didn't understand what his goal was with the petty chatter. Did he think they were suddenly friends now? After he discarded her back at her apartment like she was a used rag and disappeared without a hint of remorse?

After she carried him hundreds of miles away from the Guys in White compound, bandaged his wounds, and then stayed up all night just to make sure he was safe?

She could have left him there. She could have been home before her father had woken up the next morning in a panic because his daughter was nowhere to be found. She could have avoided the phone call to the police, the missing child report, the whole mess that had followed.

And he couldn't have even been bothered to say thank you afterward. Just dumped her and left.

So if he thought she was going to help him out now, he had another thing coming.

"How have...um, how have you been? Since…"

"Fine." She said. "My dad's been better."

He winced. "Yeah…"

"Not that you care."

He jolted up, turning around to face her. "What?"

"You know what I'm talking about, spook."

"I thought we were over the whole 'spook' thing," he said, his face twisting in annoyance.

"And I thought you were over being an inconsiderate jerk. But I guess I was wrong."

"Listen, Val—"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Okay, Red. Listen, I'm sorry. Okay? I got freaked out that you—you saw…" He let out a shaky breath. "I didn't know what to say. I'm sorry you got caught up in my problems, I'm sorry they thought you were a ghost, and I just...yeah."

Valerie sat there for a moment, glaring out at the night's sky. "It was a big mess, you know."

"I know."

"The police were involved and everything."

"I heard."

"And you know the worst part? I couldn't even tell them the truth." She let out a bitter laugh. "I got kidnapped by my own government and I couldn't even tell my dad. I had to lie and say I got lost while out on a nature hike. How stupid is that? I nearly got killed by the freaking government and I haven't been able to say a damn thing to anyone."

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.

"Yeah, well…" Valerie swallowed the lump in her throat. "You know. Hazard of the job, I guess. Still would have been nice if you hadn't just left on me. After everything."

Phantom lowered his head, allowing the white strands of hair to cover his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."

"It was a dick move."

"It was."

"I just wanna know why."

He looked up, startled. "Why? Why you were captured, or—"

"Why the silent treatment? Was it because I saw those glowing lightning tattoos under your jumpsuit?"

He flinched back as if he'd been struck, his body lifting to hover over the cement. He stared at her open mouthed, as if he didn't think she'd even dare to mention it.

But Valerie couldn't find it in her to be joyous at his hurt expression. "Seriously? You were mad about that? Like I care about what you put on your body."

"No, no." Despite looking like he wanted to take flight, he managed to lower himself back onto the roof. "No, they're...it's complicated."

"Oh, wonderful," she said sardonically. "So let me get this straight, ghost boy. I save your ass from the government, pull an all-nighter guarding your lifeless body in a warehouse, and the best you can give me is an it's complicated? Thanks a lot. It really makes me feel better."

"No, it's…" He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyebrows were pinched and he looked almost sick. When he finally spoke, his voice was small. "They're not tattoos."

"Oh? What, an unlucky birthmark?"

He didn't respond.

Valerie turned to him, realization hitting her with full force. Unable to keep the surprise out of her voice, she said, "Really? That's it?"

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. His eyes were distant, far away. Lost in some other world.

He'd been electrocuted. Struck to death by lightning, or something similar. And now it was branded on him, as some twisted reminder of the ugly creature that extended its spindly claws and ripped his humanity from his body.

"Damn." Valerie blew out a breath. "Of all the ways to go, huh?"

"I—Yeah…"

She couldn't help herself. "Do all ghosts have one?"

"No."

Valerie didn't know if that made it better or worse. Questions swirled through her brain, but she bit her tongue. She didn't know much about ghost culture, but she was fairly certain that there was a taboo against asking ghosts about their deaths.

So she stayed silent, pretending to focus back on the stars but stealing glances to the teenage ghost beside her. His brows had furrowed, as if he were having an internal war. Whatever it was, Valerie didn't pry. Even if her curiosity burned brighter with each passing moment.

Finally, he sighed, dropping his forehead into his knees. "It's fine," he said, though his voice sounded anything but. "You can ask."

She hesitated for a brief moment before relenting. "Why do you have a mark?"

"They're called Lichtenberg figures," he explained. "They just happen. If the shock is bad enough. But they, uh, are supposed to fade in a few days. You know, if you're...human."

"But yours didn't."

"No, mine didn't." He raised his head, opening his mouth slightly, before slamming it shut.

This was unmarked territory she was stepping into. Hell, she doubted even the Fentons had ever talked to a ghost about their death before.

"Do you remember it?" she tried.

"Yeah."

That surprised her. She'd read some of the Fenton's papers, and even they were uncertain of how much a ghost remembered about their death.

The question must have shown on her face because Phantom added, "Not everyone does. I think...I think it has to do on their power level. And, uh, how old they are. I think some of the more ancient ghosts just kinda...forget. But I don't know much. We don't really talk about it."

"Oh."

Phantom nodded, staring down at his gloves. He sighed, and then started pulling one of them off.

Valerie froze, her eyes locking onto the movement. She'd never seen Phantom remove them before, and frankly she wasn't even sure if they could be removed.

The glove left his skin and dissolved into ectoplasm, splashing onto the concrete roof. And there, left on his otherworldly skin, were the cobwebs of the lightning scar that covered his torso. It was brighter, glowing with more precision than Valerie remembered from before.

He pushed his sleeve up to his elbow, revealing more of the Lichtenberg figure. It traveled up his wrist, spiraling throughout his arm before it disappeared into his suit. The branches were thin, glowing with the same ectoplasmic energy that ran through the ghost's core.

Valerie didn't know what to say. Here Phantom was, her biggest rival in Amity Park, revealing his creation, the moment that turned him into what he was today.

"It was an accident." He finally spoke. "I was being stupid, I don't know. My friends and I were fooling around with this...this machinery, I guess, that we knew we weren't supposed to be near. I grabbed a malfunctioning piece of equipment—I didn't realize it was plugged in—and that...was it."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well…" Phantom pushed his sleeve back down. He closed his eyes, willing the glove to materialize back onto his hand. He looked at her and offered a feeble smirk. "Teenagers, am I right?"

Valerie forced a polite smile in return, hoping it didn't look too pained.

He cleared his throat. "But, you know," he said, allowing some of that familiar cocky energy back into his voice. "It's in the past now. I'm over it."

Valerie doubted that much. After all, he was still a ghost.

"I mean, I get to do really cool things now. Like helping people. Protecting the town. You can't exactly do that as a human." He froze, his eyes flickering to her. "I mean, aside from you. You're great at it!"

Valerie flipped him off. "Whatever, ghost boy."

"No, I'm serious! You're really good as a ghost hunter."

"I know I'm good! I don't need your flattery to give me self-esteem." Her voice sobered. "But really, Phantom. I'm sorry that happened to you."

He frowned, and looked up at the sky. The brilliance of the stars reflected on his form, giving his body an almost ethereal presence.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago."

Sooo yeah I joined Phic Phight this year! Honestly I'm not sure if I'll be able to get another fic out before the end of the month (I'm also doing Invisobang), but this prompt was super fun. It totally caught my eye, and I hope you guys what I came up with!