Ghosts Don't Exist

Chapter 21: Melancholy and Pedantry

Danny's body felt heavy. The grief from losing someone so close and the constant dread sort of feeling that grew were getting worse.

He spent most of his time sleeping. If he wasn't sleeping, he was crying. If he wasn't crying, he was reminiscing.

Bruce wasn't happy with Danny distancing himself; he needed support from his family.

"Hey Danny," Bruce entered his room, "I want you to go on patrol with me."

That wasn't his first idea, but anything to get him out of the house. Danny's back was to him; he had curled himself into a ball. His voice cracked. "Are you sure?" He sounded so small and fragile.

Now, Bruce's plan was, what if he got Danny out of the house and into the old swing of things? Danny had fought bad guys before, constantly, and even made friends with some of them. This could be good for him and possibly help him out of his grieving shell.

"Of course, I'm sure! Why else would I be asking?" Bruce assured with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "Okay. When do we go out?" Danny turned towards Bruce after wiping his eyes.

His face was red and looked raw. He must have been rubbing at his face a lot. His eyes were red-rimmed, and by the way, Danny blinked, they stung horribly. Danny's hair was wild and looked like it had been pulled at roughly. The back of his ears had scratches as if Danny clawed at himself. His fingertips were pink, and his nails looked like they had dirt on them.

Bruce composed himself, unnoticed, and gave Danny a soft smile. "After you get cleaned up." He said softly. Danny rubbed his eyes again. His wrists and sleeves were soaked. "Okay," he croaked.

Bruce softly ran a comb through Danny's hair, cleaned his face up, and gave him some eye drops.

Eventually, they did leave, and Danny loved the feeling of cold air biting at him as he flew by. He was almost as fast as Bruce's aircraft (Danny thought it looked like a bird more than a bat), so he decided to follow. "Um, so how does this thing work?" Danny asked through comms. "All you have to do is speak, and we can hear you; that's it. It tells us where you are and if you get injured." Bruce stated.

"Yeah, all you have to do is press the button on the side. Just press it again to turn comms off." Damian said. "Oh, so this thing lets you listen until I turn it off. Cool! Tucker, Sam, and I just used walkie-talkies." Danny stated and turned the comms off.

"Danny, you'll be with Damian and Tim. Dick, you're with me." Bruce spoke in a commanding tone; one Danny hadn't heard before. Something about it flipped a switch he was all too familiar with. A switch he'd flipped off since he'd been captured and held prisoner.

He felt he'd be a little rusty, but with due time, he'll get back in the swing of things. He realized he missed the adrenaline rush he would get when he fought other ghosts. The burst of energy he had when he would focus in. How his senses would immediately heighten, and his nerves would go crazy—the rush of plasma running through his fingers when he had spewed little plasma balls at opposing individuals.

He loved that feeling. He grew anxious, and that heavy feeling from earlier felt just a little bit more welcoming. It offered him the suggestion of feeling like that all the time.

Remember, Danny, Tucker, and I will always be right here. We know enough to know that with great power comes great responsibility.

"You left out sacrifice."

Danny felt the words leave his mouth unannounced. He exhaled and followed Damian, passing rooftops. He had mumbled it so quietly, but he heard his voice whispering in his ears. He pushed that dwelling feeling away. It acted on its own, seemingly angry with him. Could feelings change how they felt about themselves and the person they persuaded? That sounded like nonsense. So he had to have been mad with himself for pushing away something so welcoming.