#i knew i had to include pandaredd's bill from the goonion

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

I just... decided it was fair game so here-

Jack was always honest with Mads about the shit he'd done growing up, had always been honest about the fact that he'd only gotten into university from the grace of a Wayne Scholarship that the Wayne heir (a year or two younger than he was) had been kind enough to leave open after his parents passing.

He'd been just as honest with Vlad before things went a bit sideways between the two of them, that Jack knew what it was like to take a life; as reluctantly as he had done so and, he'd told his best friend, the only reason he agreed to Maddie's ideas about ghost *guns* was because he didn't know how to tell her that they still made him shaky sometimes and all he could see was his uncle - standing over his old man, some stupid fucking mob bosses symbol burnt into his face because uncle Vinnie never knew when enough was enough and now Pa had to fuckin' deal with the consequences, and Jack? He's thirteen, his Ma's at work of job 3 of the day and they don't have the money to move, they don't have the money to *bury* Pa and he's got his Pa's shotgun in hand and it's Uncle Vinnie or Pa and Jack's already made his decision- and sometimes he swears those ghostly figments they get through sound just like him.

But Jack likes to think he's moved forward with his life. He has a lovely wife and two wonderful kids, he lives in a inner city neighbourhood still, but he has enough to own a house with a BASEMENT. He has enough from his published papers to finance his ghostly research and all he has to do is occasionally update the microbial studies board at the Wisconsin university on his findings. (The living fridge food gave amazing and surprisingly replicable results!) Life's so different from the first eighteen years of his life, but he's not all that different not really.

He's still a bit too quiet for his size, still a bit too much. He's worked hard to switch his accent to fit Maddie's better, to fit in more, but if he stops trying the Gothamite comes out and if he stops paying full attention he's been told he sounds like a mix between a Metropolis cat being strangled and a new jersey lads lad. Sometimes he still does rounds around the house and half the anti-ecto tech in the house are just slightly fancier traps than the ones he'd watched his Pa set up back home in crime alley.

Reluctantly he'd also admit he still had a few favours he can cash in, a few favours he owes, a few prison sentences he's waiting to end so he can tell his kids about their aunts and uncles and not have to force them into a prison visitors room every couple months when his friends decide to behave enough to be allowed to interact with the public. Some of them don't ever really learn their lessons, Jack can't blame them though. Sometimes Gotham loses more of it's screws and puts bastards like the Riddler in standard max and then everyone has to be wary of getting killed in the next escape attempt. Nigma never seems to bother solitary on his attempts.

The Court of Owls stills lives in the back of his head, he tells Jazz and Danny their tales, sang them the nursery rhymes as little kids. With Phantom and the portal and everything else he hopes they know the Court is real, he hopes they don't think it's just an odd coincidence because there's the stench of death that follows his family is so thick he worries going back they'd be visited at least once.

Jazz and Danny are too old to be taken, too old to be talons. That's the only saving grace. Jack still sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat, and has to check on his kids to make sure they're in their beds, too terrified of seeing a little owl in their place, beds done up neatly never to be seen again.

(That first time Danny had snuck out when he'd had one of those nightmares he'd woken Jazz up, apologising as he was doing it, asking her to phone Sam and Tucker, practically begging his daughter to get him in contact with the two people Jack knew Danny would sneak out for.

His son had answered, sounding as frazzled as he felt, a shaky "Dad?! Dad what's wrong, Tuck said you were hyperventilating- is it Mom? Jazz?!"

Jack had almost burst into tears.

"Dan-o, sweet bat on a tricycle, if you sneak out you gotta leave a note! I thought you were GONE!"

It hadn't been that long after the accident with the portal and Jack could still only see his little boy in that hospital bed because he hadn't woken up for hours. His Danny so. so small and so pale and Jack could have sworn at the time he was watching his son flicker in and out of existence-

He'd been so angry, so scared that it seemed to have shaken his son just enough that when he'd gotten home - not half an hour later, and Jack had been sat at the dining table with two cups of his Pa's favourite tea waiting for him- he'd hugged him tight and promised that if he ever met up late at night with Sam and Tucker he'd leave a note.

Danny had never broken that promise.)

All of that was important sure, but none of it was important in the face of the fucking GIW coming to HIS house and threatening HIS family.

He and Maddie had been distraught enough learning that Danny and Phantom were the same person, disturbed enough that they'd misunderstood everything from the biological makeup to the damn sentience of the species they'd been studying for longer than their children had been CONCIEVED, that when the quote un quote government agency turned up demanding they turn their son over everything had simply fallen off the deep end.

Danny had told them that Vlad was a ghost, his son had also tried to explain that Vlad actually wanted to kill Jack but he'd brushed it off - Jack knew if Vladdie actually wanted to kill him he could- and so Maddie had started burning their research, not a single regret at nearly thirty years of research burnt to hell, and Jack had phoned his best friend as he went about grabbing the go-bags his family probably hadn't realised he'd had ready for years.

"Vlad, friend, Dan-o told us about the ghost thing, those GIW bastards have come knocking," his old friend made a strangled noise but Jack kept talking. He knew if he let him talk Vlad would reject his next few words, "I'm getting the family out, might go see my uncle Vinnie. Want to go on a family roadtrip?"

Vlad would know what that meant. Would know it meant he was going home, somewhere Jack really hadn't ever thought he would return to. And he was just throwing another of Danny's favourite star maps into the spare space in his son's go bag when his old friend finally responded.

"Young Daniel has informed you of my repeated murder attempts correct? Of my.... obsession?"

"You could have killed me at any point Vladdie!" the other man made an affronted noise on the other end, and Jack squinted between the navy NASA hoodie and the black NASA hoodie, "And as for that obsession with Mads well, nothing a bit of therapy and a good long talk with Mads about boundaries and how we can do all this together won't fix. Besides if you were that obsessed you'd have crossed more lines than you have."

"..."

Finally deciding on the black hoodie he set about grabbing his sons old school bag and throwing in items he knew Danny would be devastated to leave behind, ones that couldn't be replaced.

"I'll get in contact with Danielle, who I presume you know about?"

"Of course." It was a shock to know he now had a second daughter, but he'd love the girl all the same, "It'll make this co-parenting thing all the easier! Meet here after the kids finish school?"

Before he could get a response he'd ended the call.

-*-

Within the week they were back in Gotham, in Crime Alley and as Jack breathed in the shitty air and smell of chemical sludge, rain and unidentifiable but most likely blood he felt home for the first time in a good long while.

Mads, Vlad and the Kids had had... various stages of grief throughout the initial few moments of climbing out of the RV and looking at the dilapidated apartment building. They had enough in funds to buy two units that were side by side so space wouldn't be an issue, and Jack was still in discussions with the land lord (a lovely young man under the alias Red Hood) about whether structurally it'd be safer to knock down the separating wall in the living room or put in an archway.

"Jackie?"

Turning towards the call Jack was sure he made quite the sight!

He'd grown into his Pa's height (but more so his Ma's build because he was a brickhouse but his Ma had been putting that Haly's circus trope to shame) and currently had Ellie sitting on his shoulder half asleep, with his hazmat zipped up to his waist and the rest tied showing off his ratty wife-beater and that one tattoo of the Gotham Knights badge he'd gotten at sixteen on a dare.

"Jackie it is you!" when he finally saw who was calling him he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Bill! Bud, how's it goin?"

"Me?" His friend's smile got a bit wonky and Jack noticed his nose had definitely been broken more since the last time he'd seen his childhood friend, "Oh no, I'm doin' great but you! What's this three kids and two misses' and misters? When'd you get married! When'd you have kids?!"

Jack Fenton is From Gotham, a Headcannon

CstSo, Jack Fenton, Big, caring, Dad Shaped Individual who cares about Family and his Profession and would more than likely choose family if things went Funky. The Guy who has ran through multiple walls and is capable of fighting Ecto beings BARE FISTED and winning. This guy, who just looks at the mayhem around him and goes “Ah, a peaceful day.” while Maddie is losing her entire god damned mind. You can only really get that sort of attitude about chaos in a few places, and I think Jack was born and raised in Gotham, and furthermore, I think his parents generation of Fentons lived in Crime Alley. 

The IDEAS this gives me, like in a reveal gone sideways with the GIW finding out Jack takes Danny and hides out in his childhood romping grounds and the people just go “Oh Hey, Jack’s back.” and they just melt into the underbelly of Gotham, no one really the wiser and the GIW constantly losing vehicles and Agents to the meatgrinder that is Crime Alley.

Give Me Jack Fenton who has SEEN SOME SHIT, Give me Jack Fenton who has DONE SOME SHIT. This man knows how to do a lot of things and the legality therein can get very Sketchy. Then give us the glory and horror of Gothamites slowly emigrating too/immigrating from Amity Park and it’s just like, That Explains A LOT.

I ran away with this, I shall now tag folks who I think would like this.

@stealingyourbones

@captain-krow-drozdov