Written in the Scars

“Sit,” Phantom ordered as soon as he walked into the lab.

Peter forced himself to stop staring around at everything, even if it was weird. Really weird. It looked like, well, a lot like Peter’s own lab. Except with really weird colors that made Peter’s head hurt the more he looked at them. There was a blue glowing lab table that Phantom gestured at impatiently.

Peter sat, Tony and Natasha standing next to him. Phantom gathered what looked like tools and then came back over. He smiled, but his eyes were tight. Was he...worried about Peter?

“Could you lay back? I need to scan you so I can figure out if you’re liminal.”

“Why would he be liminal?” Tony demanded, fretting.

“He has temporal abilities. Normally for that you have to be at least a little bit liminal,” Phantom explained, impatiently.

“It’s fine,” Peter muttered, and laid back.

“You might be part ghost!” Tony argued.

“Tony, worry about it some other time,” Natasha commanded, voice firm. “Come on, move out of the way,” she added, tugging him back gently by the elbow.

Tony grumbled but stepped back so that Phantom could move some sort of little wand thing over Peter. It reminded Peter of a metal detecting wand like they used in movies. It whirred and hummed and clicked as Phantom worked. After a long moment, he pulled it away and stared down at Peter like he held the mysteries of the universe.

“What is it?” Peter asked, fidgeting.

Phantom shook his head and muttered something in a language Peter didn’t recognize. He muttered to himself in various languages for a few more moments.

“I-” he started, finally in English again, but cut himself off. He swore under his breath, dragged a hand through his hair, and then met Peter’s gaze.

“What happened to you?” he asked, softly, sympathetically.

Peeter stared at him in befuddlement, not expecting that question. “What?” he asked.

Phantom let out a slow breath.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tony demanded.

“I’m not comfortable telling you that without giving him a choice in the matter,” Danny answered primly.

“Phantom?” Peter asked, his heart racing a little faster as terrible option after terrible option came to him.

“Hey,” Phantom said, voice soft. Their eyes were locked suddenly, and Peter wondered vaguely when and how that had happened. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Hey. You gotta breathe, yeah? You’re alright, you’re okay, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m sorry. It’s not going to kill you or anything, okay? Just breathe,” Phantom insisted, cold hands cupping Peter’s face.

Peter tried, really he did. Phantom’s cold hands on his face felt amazing, because suddenly he felt way too hot. Blindly, Peter reached out towards him. Phantom caught his wayward hand and pressed it against something else cold. Phantom’s chest, Peter realized after a moment. Phantom was taking deep, exaggerated breaths and counting in Peter’s ear. Panic attack, Peter registered vaguely. He tried to force his breaths to slow down and align with Phantom’s, focusing on the steady rhythm against his hand and the counts in his ear. Eventually, Peter wasn’t sure how long it took, he felt like he could breathe again. He eased his eyes open to see Tony and Natasha pounding on some sort of invisible barrier behind Phantom.

“Uh. Phantom?” he asked, gesturing at the adults.

Phantom scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He waved a hand and the invisible barrier dissipated. Tony, talking a mile a minute, rushed to his side. He was followed closely by a silent Natasha.

“What just happened?” Tony demanded, at the end of his rant.

Peter still felt slightly dazed.

“Panic attack.”

“Panic attack.”

Peter turned to look at Phantom, eyes wide in surprise. Phantom shrugged.

“I’ve had enough of them to know,” he muttered.

Tony squinted suspiciously at Phantom, before turning back to Peter.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“I’m okay,” Peter promised.

Tony then turned his ire on Phantom. “What the hell was that with the invisible barrier?!” he shouted, waving his arms.

Phantom didn’t so much as wince. “He was having a panic attack. Having you in his face panicking would have made everything worse. So I blocked you out until I got him to breathe right again.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?!” Tony continued, not appeased.

“Would you have listened?” Phantom asked evenly, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” Tony lied, badly. Even Peter could hear it.

Phantom just shrugged. Tony silently seethed. Natasha turned to Peter and grabbed his hand through the glove, giving it a squeeze.

“You alright?” she asked, quietly enough that only Peter should be able to hear.

Peter nodded slightly. 

“There’s still the matter of fixing your time patch. Now that I’ve scanned you it should be pretty quick and painless,” Phantom chimed in.

“Alright,” Peter agreed, and laid back on the table.

Above him, Phantom turned to Natasha and Tony. “Could you give us some space, please?”

Natasha squeezed Peter’s hand one last time before letting go and gently tugging Tony back again. Phantom gathered a tool that looked almost like forceps and turned back to Peter.

“This may feel a little strange,” he warned.

Peter nodded, giving the go ahead. Phantom used the...forceps? Tongs? Oversized tweezers? To gently grab something inside Peter’s chest and twist. Peter gasped sharply.It did feel strange. Not painful, but strange. Uncomfortable, maybe. Phantom had one of the instruments in his other hand. With a look of great concentration, he grabbed something Peter couldn’t see on the other side of his chest and tugged. Peter gasped again, forcing himself to remain still on the table. The sensation was entirely unfamiliar and Peter was not a fan.

“Almost done,” Phantom murmured, eyes flicking up to meet Peter’s.

Phantom moved the instruments around, then replaced them with something else. Peter had closed his eyes by that point, focusing on staying still while Phantom worked. His chest felt like it was covered in ice for a moment, then all at once, everything felt normal again. Peter’s eyes flew open, and he started to sit up.

“Woah,” Phantom cautioned, his hands on Peter’s shoulders gently pushing him back down. “Stay down for a second there, let it settle. This is delicate work.”

Peter laid still on the table, ceasing his struggles to sit up.

“How do you feel?” Phantom asked.

Peter gave the question serious consideration. “Tingly, a little colder than normal.”

“Alright, that’s normal. But I want you to just lay there for a minute, okay? Just, take it easy for a bit,” Phantom ordered.

“Fine,” Peter grumbled. “But you’ve gotta tell me what had you so freaked out earlier.”

“Of course,” Phantom agreed, looking mildly offended, probably at the idea that he wouldn’t tell Peter. “But not with Tony and Natasha here. This is personal to you. If I had any idea….if I had any idea what I’d find, I never would’ve done the scan in the first place. I would’ve sent you to someone more….impartial, more experienced than I am.”

“What could possibly be that personal?” Peter asked.

Phantom eyed Tony and Natasha. Not even a full minute passed before a ghost that looked….a whole lot like Phantom himself came floating in an open doorway that Peter hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it hadn't been there before. Hadn’t Phantom said Lairs changed to suit their owners?

The ghost had the same face and the same hairstyle as Phantom. There was a stripe of black across his hair in a streak. He was wearing dark blue robes and a white cape over his shoulders.

“This is Dawn, he’s one of my shadows,” Phantom introduced, waving in his direction.

“And I’m not as nice as Phantom so watch out,” Dawn agreed, grinning and exposing fangs that Phantom definitely did not have. 

“Tony, Natasha, Dawn will take you somewhere you can wait while I talk to Spidey,” Phantom explained.

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Natasha cut him off. “Alright,” she agreed, “lead the way.”

So Dawn led Tony and Natasha out. Peter turned his head to Phantom, resisting the urge to sit up, knowing Phantom would just push his shoulders gently back to the bed. Phantom lifted his feet up and floated down so that they were  at eye level.

“So?” Peter prompted.

“You’re very liminal,” Phantom started, hesitantly. “Almost as liminal as Danny is, which is startling. Did the place you grow up ever have strange things happen? Misplacing things and finding them in places you could've sworn you already looked, flashes of things you shouldn’t have been able to see?”

“No,” Peter answered. “I mean, I switched houses pretty young, but nothing like that ever happened.”

Phantom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked, but how did you get your powers?”

Peter debated for an instant before he decided to just tell the truth.

“I got bitten by a radioactive spider with mutated DNA in a lab where they were experimenting. There was a breach in containment,” Peter answered.

“Huh,” Phantom said. “Maybe it was a ghost spider or something. I’m not entirely sure. But I’d bet money that’s what made you this liminal.”

“Okay,” Peter hedged. “What’s the big deal, though?”

Phantom paused.

“It’s, um, well,” he hedged, then shook his head and started again.

“When a person dies and becomes a ghost, their physical scars don’t follow them into this life. The only physical, visible scars that Dead ghosts have are Deathmarks. They only stay because they’re emotionally significant, and most of the time they’re not visible,” Phantom started. Peter started to ask what this had to do with anything, but Phantom held up a hand. Peter closed his mouth.

“The thing is, ghosts do have scars other than Deathmarks. They’re just emotional instead of physical. Ghosts are, primarily, creatures of emotion. Sometimes they carry emotional scars from their lives, even if they don’t remember the event that led to having them. Emotional scars are visible with certain tools as fractures in a ghost’s core. With the right equipment, they can also look like, well, almost like blood. Discolored areas that you can almost read to see what they mean.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed.

“When a human is as liminal as you are,” Phantom started again, “they have scars like that too. You’re almost liminal enough to have a ghost core. The things that those scars portray are. Well. They’re personal. It’s every trauma, every heartbreak, every terrible event you’ve ever endured. They’re all written in the scars. And anyone that knows how to use that equipment is going to be able to, in a way, read them.”

Peter could swear he stopped breathing. He had scars from...from everything? Everything important, and Phantom had seen them all. Had, maybe, read them all. What in the world was Peter supposed to do with that?

“I didn’t read them,” Phantom said, quietly. “I saw them. I got...impressions from some of them. But I didn’t read them. That would have been….I’d never do that. To anyone. Especially not to you.”

Peter felt like he could breathe again. He turned his head sideways to see Phantom watching him with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I…” Peter trailed off. “I’m not really sure what to say. That’s, I mean, it’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” Phantom agreed, twiddling his thumbs.

They were silent for a few moments.

“There’s something you should know about me,” Phantom eventually said.

“What?” Peter asked, cautiously sitting up.

Phantom didn’t reprimand him, just floated up to match his eye level.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Phantom hedged, suddenly looking nervous. “I mean, you could tell Natasha if you want, cause I know she can keep a secret. But, I mean, people don’t know this. It would be, well, it wouldn’t be good if they did, generally.”

“Phantom,” Peter said, softly. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

Phantom nodded, still fidgeting. “Okay. Okay, thank you.”

Peter waited for Phantom to get himself under control. It took a minute. Finally, Phantom started talking.

“I’m only half ghost,” he blurted.

“I-” Peter started, entirely derailed. “What? That’s a thing?”

Phantom chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’m sort of, just, really liminal. But in all actuality, I’m half dead. And half alive. I died halfway. It, uh, it wasn’t fun. But I have, like, two forms. I can either be a ghost or be a person. And, um, you sort of know both versions of me?”

Peter stared as the pieces started clicking together. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Phantom looked supremely uncomfortable. “It’s easier to just show you,” he muttered.

Peter waited. Phantom landed on the ground, both feet firmly on the floor. It was...strange. Then two rings of white light started at his waist and swept up and down. When the light faded, Danny was standing there looking pleadingly at Peter.

“I KNEW YOU TWO LOOKED FAMILIAR!” Peter yelled.

Danny flinched a little, and then grinned when he saw that Peter was smiling. Peter looked at Danny, head to toe, trying to reconcile that they were the same person. Phantom and Danny. Danny and Phantom. Danny Phantom? 

“Yeah. Normally I only know people as either Phantom or Danny, not both. Easier to keep the secret that way,” Danny explained.

He walked forward to the bed Peter was sitting on. He hopped up next to Peter, legs dangling off the edge.

“You’re both,” Peter said, unnecessarily.

Danny scratched the back of his neck. “Yes.”

“You have a secret identity,” Peter repeated, grinning.

“I do,” Danny agreed.

“So do I,” Peter said. “But you already knew that.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

Peter probably should have thought it out more. He didn’t. He just reached up and tugged his mask off with one hand. Danny watched with wide eyes.

“I’m Peter Parker.”

Danny grinned. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.”