I had fun with the syntax (er, hopefully I'm using that word correctly) of this first scene. With luck it isn't too off-putting. Aand, I've given up on chapter titles and I'm just going to give them the names I give them in my planning docs, so long as they are not too revealing. : /

Happy New Year, everyone! I'm in NZ so it's already the second for me!

x.x

The hinge of the door had a creak in it that sent out a great whine when pushed open by Danny's hand. Two chairs conversed over a coffee table, Black Canary captured in one, and a plastic plant sat in the corner where it would never grow, be watered, or be transferred from one pot to another.

Black Canary had a smile that was a soothing stroke to the fluttering in his chest, and she greeted him with eyes that saw too deeply, that looked through the confabulation of everyday life and into the deepest unknown truth. Danny looked down to the floor, the carpet with its spots that ran in broken lines of canary-yellow and moss-green against the blue of the ocean he'd fought above with Kid Flash. That ocean never took them: the guns were too swift for that. The guns had caught them in the air.

And so, his gaze was hidden from Black Canary.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Phantom." The chair released Black Canary, letting her float upwards. Beside Danny the other chair waited, arms spread wide and cushion patiently waiting. Danny turned from it and shook Black Canary's cool hand. He watched it, with its wrinkles and knuckles and cuticles and it let go. She sunk into her seat and left him standing.

"I wanted to."

The chair was fat, not like the emaciated frame of the chair that Spectra had kept in her office. Spectra's eyes were simpering and shrewd and vacant, and her chair was all unforgiving wood and sharp corners. This chair wanted to suck him in, devour him, and consume him.

"You can stand, if that makes you more comfortable."

"I'll sit." Danny braced himself against the chair arms and sunk into the seat. The cushion hugged his legs and he circled his arms around his middle. There was no draft sock to guard the door and a cool breeze blew by his ankles, and perhaps by his feet, though those were socked and shoed against the cold.

"I've been asked to talk to you, and to the others, about what happened in the simulation because I have training in counselling. I am obligated not to tell anyone what is said inside this room unless I have your permission."

"The Justice League isn't 'anyone'?"

"I won't even tell the Justice League," Black Canary's voice was as stable as a lake in still warm air, easy to swim in and beckoning to weary travellers of the road of life.

"I was in school. My friends were playing crosswords. My friend Wulf wanted a favour, and everyone ran screaming like usual. He took me to through a couple of portals into the dreamworld. They."

Aqualad introduced himself, and introduced the team, and everyone was tired and weary and wary but they all wanted to get rid of the aliens, and Danny wanted to help get rid of them because that was so much more important than Mr. Lancer's lectures or even Tucker and Sam's crosswords.

"Accepted me. They trusted me. Martian Manhunter."

Martian Manhunter saying he wasn't real. Martian Manhunter killing M'gann. Martian Manhunter, instantly trusted. Martian Manhunter given the benefit of the doubt.

The team and Martian Manhunter attacking him.

"Martian Manhunter —

"I want to go home. I miss..."

His friends. Tucker, who always had the thermos when he'd forgotten it, Sam, who had… everything else. Family. Jazz who couldn't keep her nose in her own business, The smell of metal and grease as Mom worked at the kitchen table, and Dad's booming voice as he stumbled into room and ate Mom's cooking without a blink.

Cool fingers slipped over his own and Black Canary leant forward so that her hair was stretched back over shoulders that were drawn back in pain that he had put there, sympathetic pain that said 'I'm sorry' and 'I hurt for you' and 'you don't deserve that'.

"The team, do they believe in you?"

Aqualad and Artemis he hadn't seen. Robin laughing at him. Kid Flash pranking him back. M'gann hugging him. Superboy: "You are real".

"Yes." The voice coming from his throat was high and squeaky, more like a mouse than the great Danny Phantom. Now it galled, and his throat was clogged up even though he'd cried enough, and he couldn't cry here, Black Canary was watching with eyes that understood pain.

He didn't cry.

"The league…"

"The league have other concerns," her voice said that she didn't and he was reminded that her cool hand was warming against his own, and he pulled his hand into his lap. "They worry that your memories are false impressions. The dreamworld is a prime example of how people can have clear memories of things that never happened."

"Memories of things that never happened?"

"It is more common than you might think. Memory is faulty. We forget important things when our minds hide vital truths from us, misting over facts that could change our conception of our lives. Minds can create whole libraries of false events to fill a gap, or to explain away something they consider impossible."

Danny's eyes hid from Black Canary. He studied the floor. His feet felt cold and butterflies flew in his stomach. Words kept opening his mouth but never left it, and he didn't feel like he knew what he was trying to say.

"You don't know anything—what would you know about that?" The words came out snarling.

Black Canary nodded slowly, understanding in the eyes that saw too deeply. His eyes hid from her again, and his fingers scuttled over his legs and picked at his jeans.

"In my civilian persona, it is my life's work. Do not fear your response, Phantom. You are working through these facts, and part of that is denial. This denial is perfectly natural. I see it all the time in my work, and you only need to look as far as the other members of the Team to see others also working through their responses this way."

Danny's mute lips refused to move and his larynx refused to constrict or vibrate, leaving him wordless. He thought of the team, which of them was Black Canary speaking of, and what about them let Black Canary know just what and how they thought?

"Just have a think about it, Phantom, that is all I ask. Will I see you for training tomorrow?"

The thought, usually thrilling, crashed a wave of exhaustion over his head like an egg that sunk down through the trunk of his body and into his fingers and toes, which he shook.

"Maybe."

He pulled himself from the chair and fumbled his way towards the door. He felt like something had been wrung from him. A deep unsettledness had risen into him and he found he was eager to leave the office.

Was this what M'gann had felt?

x.x

The talk with Black Canary had left Danny rattled. His own thoughts were screaming: what if they're right? What if you are a mere thought-form? He sped into the kitchen. Robin was lounging against the bench, a slice of bread dangling from one had, his eyes seemingly staring contentedly ahead, completely ignoring Danny's entrance.

"I need paper and a pen," he gasped out.

"Awesome," drawled Robin. He wrinkled his nose. "I need some fresh air."

He wasn't in the mood for Robin's shit. Going ghost and diving into Robin's body was simple. He felt the strange warmth of being in another's body, the disconnectedness of a frame that wasn't quite his which made every move exaggerated as he attempted to acclimatise himself.

But as he was getting control over Robin's body, there was chink in his control. Robin yelled at him. Danny stumbled, falling onto the bench in shock. The people he'd overshadowed had never before kept their awareness. Robin pushed at him weakly, like a baby brushing him with fingertips, and images – not his own thoughts – of Robin pushing him out of his mind kept flashing across his vision.

He struggled against the images. "Where can I find a pen and paper?" he thought.

An image of a smiley sticking its tongue out flickered across his mind, followed by a dinosaur, followed by himself being pushed out of Robin's mind by a train.

It was too hard to think. He dove out of Robin's body, remaining safely intangible as Robin steadied himself. Then, Robin smirked, and pointed to a shelf underneath the kitchen cabinets.

A glass of pens sat upon it. Next to them, a notepad. Danny snatched them up and sat at the coffee table in the lounge, ripping off sheets of paper and arranging them. One for every ability he could remember. He wrote furiously.

Intangibility. His pants falling off in front of Paulina. Pulling Sam and Tucker away from danger.

Flight. Hovering mid-air as he sucked up ghosts in the Thermos.

Super-strength. His brow creased, his pen hovering above the paper. That one was inconsistent. He'd swung the dragon ghost around easily, but sometimes his ghost-self could barely hold more than his human self. He went on to the next ability.

Annexation, his ability to turn other things intangible. Ecto-blasts and beams. Shields. Speed. The papers flew by as he teased out each ability and the multitude of memories that came along with it. They left him with an extensive pile, and he sat back with a smile. His memories matched his abilities.

With a stretch, he stood. He spotted Robin, who had apparently followed him to lounge, and his arms flapped down by his sides.

"Hey," Danny said with a smirk. "I know I'm cool and all but you don't need to keep staring at me. So…" he flicked his fingers, "Shoo."

"Well you're cosy," Robin responded. "You know this isn't your home, right?"

Danny's eyes narrowed. Still in ghost mode, he pointed his finger at Robin and a beam of ectoplasm shot from his fingertip. Robin's eyes widened and he flipped over the opposite couch, green goo colliding with his arm and sticking there.

Danny flew after him, flying over the couch. There was nothing behind it but carpet and lint. He groaned, well, it would have been too easy to find Robin here. He peered over the edge of the couch.

Robin was standing over the coffee table, reading his notes. Damn!

Danny sent an ecto-blast at the ground before the table. It ricocheted off the ground, blasting the table up into Robin's face. Robin barely dodged in time and Danny cleared the couch, lunging for him.

Robin's fingers went to his belt. He grabbed something – the disks! – and threw them at Danny. Danny dodged, but too late. The disk whizzed past, cutting into his arm and thunking into the wall behind.

Danny grabbed his arm, his breath hitching, and stopped his flight. Robin had stopped, too, his eyes wide again. He crept forward.

"Phantom, are you-?" Danny didn't let him finish.

He let go of his arm, green trailing down his hand and slammed Robin into the floor. Off guard, Robin went down easily and didn't struggle. Danny adjusted his grip on Robin's wrists, but still, Robin lay there without protest.

Danny felt a rush of concern, was Robin injured or was he waiting to kick him off?

All of a sudden, Robin glowered.

"Go home," he said, and spat at Danny's face. "Get out of here!"

"What the heck?" Danny asked, and rubbed his face against his arm to get the spit off. "Why'd you do that?"

Robin kicked him, and even ready for it Danny was pushed away. He watched Robin wearily. Robin turned to his wrist computer, typing rapidly.

"No-one knows about this," he muttered. He finished typing and glanced at Danny. "Or this."

Robin moved so quickly that dodging was hopeless. Danny's last thought, as he blacked out, was why didn't I go intangible again?

When Danny came to, he felt fine. He glanced down at his body: he'd fallen out of ghost mode. It figured, but at least his injuries didn't transfer over. His notes were still scattered about the room and he collected them all, then, all at once, ripped them into tiny scraps and let them flutter into the bin.

He needed to do something about Robin, but what? From what he'd gathered, Robin was everyone's golden boy.