Going Ghost! (Young Justice)

Chapter 192: A Cold Morning

[Third Person Pov]

The next morning Dick walked through Wayne Manor wearing a sweater beneath his open coat. The chill had settled into the walls overnight, the kind that didn't belong in late April. He let out a quiet sigh, his breath visible in the air as he moved down the hall, hands tucked into his sleeves for warmth.

He passed by Danny's door and slowed to a stop. A thin stream of cold mist slipped out from underneath it, curling along the floor. The wooden surface was coated in frost, pale and creeping outward, and the doorknob looked stiff with a thin, glassy layer of ice.

Dick stared at it for a moment longer than he meant to. The cold radiating from the other side pressed against his skin even from where he stood. He suppressed a shiver, pulled his coat tighter around himself, and forced his feet to keep moving. Breakfast sounded better than standing there thinking about it.

Down in the dining room, Bruce sat at the head of the table, already dressed for the cold. A long coat rested over his shoulders, gloves still on his hands as he held a cup of hot tea. Steam rose steadily from it, the only real sign of warmth in the room.

Alfred stood nearby, composed as ever, though even he was dressed more heavily than usual. The shift in temperature hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone in the manor.

"Coffee or tea, young master Richard?" Alfred asked in his usual professional tone, as though his fingers weren't likely going numb from the unnatural cold settling through the house.

"Coffee, please," Dick replied, exhaling as he took a seat. "I needed the caffeine. I barely slept last night."

Bruce set his cup down, the soft clink cutting through the quiet. His eyes shifted toward Alfred. "When you're done preparing Danny's breakfast, hand it to me. I'll take it up to him."

"Certainly, sir," Alfred said with a small nod before turning to gather their meals.

…

Bruce stood in front of Danny's door with a tray in his hands. He paused, his gaze lingering on the frost that had spread further across the wood since earlier. For a brief moment, he simply stood there, then exhaled quietly through his nose before raising his hand to knock.

"Danny, it's me. Bruce. May I come in?"

"Enter…" Danny's voice came from inside, cold and distant. There was a faint tremor beneath it, subtle but present.

Bruce reached for the doorknob and felt the cold immediately, even through his glove. It pressed through the material, biting at his skin. As he twisted the handle, the thin layer of frost cracked and broke away.

The door opened, and the cold hit him all at once.

It poured out of the room in a steady wave, sharp and penetrating. Mist swept over him, clinging to his coat and skin. He ignored it, though his jaw tightened slightly at the intensity.

The entire room was frozen over.

Ice covered every surface in thick, uneven layers. Jagged icicles had formed along the ceiling and the bedposts, some long enough to cast thin, distorted shadows across the walls. The floor crunched underfoot as Bruce stepped inside, the sound sharp in the otherwise still room. It looked less like a bedroom now and more like something abandoned to winter.

Danny sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. His legs were drawn up slightly, arms resting across his knees. His head tilted back just enough for his cold blue eyes to be visible through his hair. When he exhaled, his breath came out in a steady, visible cloud.

Bruce's gaze shifted briefly to the anti-ghost chains around Danny's wrists and ankles. They were long enough to allow movement, but they remained a constant presence. Metal links rested against ice, occasionally sticking before pulling free.

They rattled softly as Danny adjusted his position.

"What do you want?" Danny asked, his tone flat. "Are you here to give me a pep talk about seeing the error of my ways?"

"I came to deliver your breakfast," Bruce replied, stepping further into the room. Ice crunched beneath his boots as he approached.

Danny let out a faint, unfeeling smirk. "Well, would you look at that. It seems you do care about me. These bindings were starting to suggest otherwise." He lifted his wrist slightly, letting the chain rattle for emphasis.

The smirk faded as quickly as it appeared. "Anyway, I'm not hungry. You can take it back."

"I'd still prefer you eat something," Bruce said evenly as he set the tray down on the nightstand beside the bed. "You may be hungry and just can't feel it. Not to mention Alfred would be disappointed if you let food go to waste."

Danny didn't respond immediately. The room remained quiet except for the faint crack of shifting ice and the soft sound of his breathing.

Danny let out a quiet sigh as he reached over toward the tray. His fingers barely made it halfway before his arm tensed. A low grunt escaped him as an uncontrollable wave of energy burst from his body.

The tray of food was instantly encased in a thick, crystallized formation of ice. Frost spread outward in a rapid bloom, crawling across the surface of the nightstand.

Danny jerked his hand back and curled in on himself. His arms wrapped tightly around his torso as his body began to tremble. His teeth chattered uncontrollably while the layers of ice around the room deepened, thickening over what was already there.

Bruce was forced to step back, raising his arms slightly in front of himself. A thin layer of frost formed over his coat and gloves before he brushed it away with a firm motion, his expression tightening as he watched.

The wave continued for several seconds before it slowly began to recede, the cold drawing back toward Danny as if being pulled in. Danny leaned his head back against the headboard, his breathing uneven as he started to pant. With every exhale, small puffs of frost left his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded, dulled by pain and exhaustion.

"So much for breakfast, I suppose," he muttered, glancing toward the frozen tray.

"As I suspected, you're losing control of your powers," Bruce said with a quiet sigh, his expression complicated but steady.

Danny slowly brought his hands together in a soft, deliberate claps. The chains around his wrists jingled with a faint, mocking chime.

"World's greatest detective, everyone," he said flatly. "Truly A+ on your deduction skills."

A brief flash of irritation crossed Bruce's face before it disappeared just as quickly, smoothed over into that same detached calm.

"I understand why you might be upset," Bruce said, running a hand over his head, "but I hope you can understand why I believed this was the best option at the time. As it currently stands, you are a danger not just to others, but to yourself as well."

"But I'm not upset," Danny replied calmly. "The only thing I feel about all of this is indifference. To you, to this situation, to my circumstances. And honestly, I prefer it this way." He shifted slightly against the headboard. "I'm not mad at you, Bruce. I simply can't be."

Bruce's frown deepened. "If you can't see the problem with that, then you're in a much worse condition than I feared."

He took a small step forward, his voice steady but more deliberate.

"At first glance, indifference might seem like a good thing. Being able to think without your emotions getting in the way. Not feeling rage, despair, or sorrow. But you're overlooking something important." He paused briefly. "Those aren't the only emotions that get locked away. Hope, compassion, empathy… those disappear too."

Danny let out a soft breath, his expression tired. "Is there a point you're trying to make?"

Bruce held his gaze, watching him closely, as if trying to reach something buried beneath the surface.

"What I'm getting at," Bruce said, his tone lowering slightly, "is that without those emotions, with you only feeling indifference, you'll have no regard for the lives of others." He paused, letting the words settle. "And do you know what they call someone like that?"

There was a brief silence before he answered his own question.

"They're called monsters."

Bruce straightened, sliding his gloved hands into his pockets.

"Without realizing it, slowly but surely, you are turning into one of those monsters," he continued. "But I know that's not what you really are."

Danny looked away, his gaze drifting toward the frozen wall. He didn't respond.

Bruce turned and began walking toward the door. He paused just before leaving, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Do you remember why you chose the name Danny Phantom?" he asked. "You could have just called yourself Phantom, but you didn't. You added your name to it to hold onto your humanity."

His eyes lingered on Danny for a moment longer.

"But right now, you're not Danny," Bruce said quietly. "You're just Phantom. A ghost of your former self."

With that, he stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving Danny alone in the cold, silent room to sit with the weight of his words.

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