For the Phic Phight 2022. Another Team Ghost prompt (for half points.)

Prompt: Maddie notices after a fight with Phantom that Danny has the same injuries. (PR196)

I kinda like how this one turned out, though I'm mildly tempted to continue it. We'll see.


Mirror, Mirror

There's a crescent shaped cut on his jaw.

Maddie stares at it, shaken.

"Hey Mom, is it ok if I eat dinner in my room?" Danny asks, bounding down the steps and gathering his plate. He doesn't even look at her, just starts grabbing food; "—I've got an English essay I need to finish by tomorrow, so. You know. Kinda urgent."

The mark is small, but distinct. Like the curl of a question mark tilted sideways on his chin. It stares up at her, crisp, red, recent— accusatory. As if asking her, Hey, are you listening to me?

As if saying, —Are you sure?

"Danny—" she starts, voice tight.

"I know, I know, it's my turn to do the dishes," Danny says. He fishes in the fridge for something to drink. "And I swear I'm not shirking. I just—"

There are bruises on his knuckles, and a scrape by his elbow, and those, she could easily wave off; he's always gathering bumps and bruises from someplace or another. But the cut—it's almost identical to the one she gave Phantom, only an hour before. Same shape, same size, same place, even; the only difference is the color.

Maybe it's a coincidence, she thinks, uncertain. The fight had been so fast paced. She hadn't gotten a proper look at Phantom's face. The cut had been so small—

"I just need some time. You know?" Danny finishes, tucking a can of diet cola neatly in the crook of his arm.

He doesn't turn to look at her.

Are you listening to me? The question echoes, rattling in Maddie's mind.

Are you sure?

"I…" Maddie trails off, drifting a step forward. She wants to take Danny's face in her hands, brush her thumb across his cheek, banish that accusing mark. Tell herself, show herself, that it's not real.

That none of this is real.

"Thanks Mom," Danny says, taking her silence as permission, and bounds back up the stairs, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The kitchen is quiet, Jack gone for the night, Jazz at a party with friends. The food is going cold on the table. Maddie sinks into her chair.

Bruises on knuckles.

A scuff on his skin.

And a crescent shaped cut on his jaw.

Her thoughts are swirling, grinding, knocking into one another. None of this makes sense.

And yet—

The weapon she'd used against Phantom is still clipped to her belt. Moving slow, she unsheathes it now.

The Jack o' Nine Tails is a simple weapon; Jack's design, based on a medieval whip. At the touch of a button, the cables unfurl, exposing nine whipping wires, each tipped with a metallic claw.

Maddie inspects the tips, gingerly taking each point in hand. Eight are shiny, untouched blades.

The last is tainted, stained dark with green. Accusatory, it curls in her outstretched palm, like the curve of a sideways question mark.

Are you listening?

"Danny and Phantom aren't connected," Maddie tells herself. This is absurd. The cut on Danny's chin - it's an eerie echo, nothing more.

But the blade in Maddie's palm stares back at her, smattered with blood, and it asks, clear as day;

Are you sure?