#and artafical lighting was a mistake on humanitys part

[siri-ike]

Empty. That's all he could feel for such a long time. Just a never-ending empty hollowness. It's not even a bad feeling, so to say. Not good, either. It's nothing. A little damp maybe, a sinking dampness.

Sometimes, he would float past things, sometimes through them, not really paying much attention. Sometimes, he would recognize someone, but every time, it got harder and harder to remember who, or from what. Were they family? Famous? Nothing. Eventually, he stopped trying. What's the point? He doesn't know them. Besides, he's probably halfway around the world by now. Or he could just be in the same place. Did he even start anywhere?

Maybe he had been doing this forever. Maybe he will be doing this forever. This is all there was, is, or ever will be. That's OK. At least it's consistent.

Or, at least

It was.

It felt like a jolt of electricity shot through his entire body at once. Body? He has one of those? So much noise, so many different sounds all competing for his attention. Lights from seemingly everywhere but the sky. No, wait, there are giant lights in the sky. Or being pointed at the sky? What kind of place is this?

He turns to face the city below him. The lights are even worse this way. He's so far above even the tallest skyscrapers, and the... are those blimps? All over a city? What is this world War 2? Confused, curious, uncomfortable. He hasn't felt anything like this, or really anything in general, for so long. If only he could get closer. And with that, a weight appeared inside him. His trajectory pointed ever so slightly downward. Excitement. At this rate, he could reach the buildings someday. No! He's been patient. He wants to go faster. As though motivated by his own will, his fall sped up. Can this be real? Forget the buildings. He could reach the ground before sunrise. As he floats closer, one of the zeppelins gets close enough to read. Police. Could this actually be World War 2? The architecture seems to fit. Even if it was, he'd take it. But he still doesn't want to wait. Now, he wants to be there now. It's as though he's being pulled down in a flash. He's below the blimps, just as quickly he's surrounded by reflections as half the buildings are covered in glass. The noise is no longer just construction and cars honking. He's close enough to hear voices yelling at each other and the lights, oh they are sickening. The ground gets closer and closer, with every fraction of a second he sees and hears something new. For a few wonderful seconds, he feels so alive. And then everything is black.

no. no,no,no. No! stop! please! pulling out from that speed sends him spinning out of control for just a moment. But a moment is enough. So far underground that he can't even tell which way is up. And a new feeling. what could this one be? Disappointment. If only he had been patient. What's a few days of falling to a, a... whatever he is... he shouldn't have wanted. He was asking too much, that must be it. Should have just been content with what he had. At least before he didn't hurt.

Hoping was a mistake. Just look where it got him.

How long has it been? Days? Hours? He'd thought before he had nothing but now. The lights aren't just dull. The sounds aren't just muffled. They are non-existent. He is non-existent.

And once more, he has accepted it. Every now and then, a faint pull here and there. Like something wants his attention, but he knows better now. It's not worth it. Better to just float. In the dark. Forever. He was a fool for believing there could be more.

It didn't take long for his circumstances to beat him down again. But it didn't take as long for them to change again either. As suddenly as before. A similar, but fainter jolt surged through him. He's had enough time now to understand what it is. Despair. Someone out there is experiencing despair the way he is. It's hardly the first time. All those other pulls and tugs. He knew what it was, but this one was different. This time, it's closer to his own suffering. And it's enough. "I want to get closer," he thinks. The pull gets stronger. Little by little, he's dragged through the darkness. He won't risk it this time. He lets it take forever. By the time he finally reaches the surface, the despair is long gone. The sunlight is blinding yet so thoroughly welcomed. If anything, the blinding sunlight was better than the crime scene he'd floated in on. Looks like murder. Two outlines on the ground. A man and a woman. Pearls scattered everywhere, too. could all that emotion have come from them? If it did, they certainly don't need help anymore. Ok, concentrate. "My feet can touch the ground," he thinks as he places his feet down, but they go straight through.

"I am tangible," he says outloud. But it still rains false.

"I can walk!" He shouts, catching the ear of a nearby cop.

"You hear something?" The officer says to another.

"Heh, first murder got ya spooked?" The other replies.

"Oh, I guess it could have just been the wind"

They perceived him? Or was that just a coincidence? The two officers pick up the last of their police tape and put it in their car. Hold on, the crime happened too recently to be cleaning it up. There's still wet blood on the ground. Their uniforms have the letters GCPD written on the back. PD always stands for police department. Why does he know that? This feels so vaguely familiar. Has he... met one before? No, that can't be. He's never met anyone. He's incorporeal, unknowable, beyond being. He has no history or future. Right? But why is he so drawn to follow them into their car? Forget walking. He can figure that out later.

Sitting in the back of a police vehicle also feels vaguely familiar. Or rather floating.

"Heh, guess I've never really been on the GZPD's good side."

"There it was again"

"You're just worked up, it's normal to struggle with mortality. How about we stop for a relaxing cup of tea on the way back to the station."

He deffinetly heard him. He's real. He's really real. Is it possible to be so happy you cry? If he could, that's definitely what would be happening right now.

The older officer turns the key. The car is loud and shakes a bit. It would be nice to be able to feel it. He closes his eyes in anticipation. This is all so new and exciting. The noise quiets down. It sounds further away. He opens his eyes to see the car driving off without him.

If he were a better student, he probably would have known he'd phaze right through. Never mind that. Just float in the direction they were going, it can't be that hard to follow a car going normal car speeds when you can only trust yourself to go average snail speed. And so he floats down the street.

Someone curses danny, and he loses all of his strength. He's stuck as the most basic of ghosts, invisible and intangible and floating endlessly.

With an obsession like protection, while being unable to contact anyone he knows and loves, it seems impossible for him to ever regain enough strength.

He spends most of his time sleeping, allowing himself to drift through the blurry world as his ecto slowly replenishes, but since his human half digests most of his progress to stay alive, he's not getting any energy at all.

That is, until he enters Gotham. He's pushed back to conciousness by the weight of all of its trapped emotions, and the complete turmoil the city had been cast into. (Or just cause Lady Gotham, if that's your thing)

It's like torture for him. He can't leave, because of all these desperate souls he feels the need to protect, but there's nothing he can do to protect them. He's forced to watch the city fall to ruin, doing his best to ignore time passing him by.

Finally, one day, Batman becomes his saviour. He's a shining beam of hope through Gotham's doom and gloom. Danny follows him home without even realising it.

And so begins the haunting of Wayne manor, as a half-alive ghost slowly regains power and desperately tries to portray that he's alive and needs help.