Chapter Text
Ashlyn’s body was pulsating.
Her whole being was continuously pulled away then shoved back into the wall by a Phantom. Her ears are ringing, her head is splitting, her eyes being pushed back into her skull by the pressure.
She can barely make out the tall, lanky, black figure towering over her. Their hand holding her up by the neck. Their body unsteady.
They feel familiar.
She gets slammed back and she’s barely able to suck in a breath. Her eyelids finally fall shut—giving into the pain.
She jolts awake to her person sweating profusely on the bed. She takes a moment to regulate her breathing as she glances around the dimly lit room. Her black curtains turned sheer from the rising sun.
She sit ups and winces at her stiff left side. Any movement pulls at it making it hurt worse.
She looks down at her now practically drenched sheets. She has to wash them…again. It’s become a daily occurrence ever since that dream—nightmare—Started a week ago. The black phantom slamming her constantly into a wall in an abandoned building. At least it looks abandoned in her dreams. She’s tried looking for the building but she hasn’t been able to find it.
The sweat has started cooling down making her sticky. She’s really getting sick of this.
Suddenly, a loud buzzing comes from the right side of the room. She stiffens slapping her hands on her ears. She turns towards the nightstand holding her now vibrating, lit up phone.
Next to it are her earplugs.
She has always had extremely sensitive ears which was worsened when her powers came in at 8 years old.
Half the population gets a power, small or big, by 16. Yes it is the most basic age ever, used for literally every ‘life changing’ story, kind of ironic that it’s for real life now too.
Anyways she has enhanced hearing if you couldn’t guess. She can’t exactly turn it off so she’s had to find ways to lessen it.
She combats it with specially made plugs gifted to her by her mom. Seems last night, in her pain and confusion, she forgot to put them back in after her shower.
Great, now she’s not only suffering messed up ribs but a headache as well.
She glares at the offending phone wondering why Logan has decided to call at nine in the morning.
She reaches out grabbing the black earplugs and routinely puts them in. She then goes for the grey rectangle that she is slowly starting to hate. She sits up slowly and presses accept.
“Hello.”
“Were you asleep? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan’s voice is soft and sweet a clear response to the amazing morning he must’ve had.
Ashlyn can hear clicking. He must be writing reports right now; he really enjoys doing reports.
“No”, she sighs rubbing her face. “It’s fine, what did you need?” She places her right hand on the side table, leaning it on heavily, and stands up.
She lifts her shirt looking at the messed up bandages she put on last night. She doesn’t know if wrapping bruised ribs actually helps or not and she didn’t feel like looking it up she just knows applying pressure can help with most injuries. Well she is pretty sure.
“Oh, okay! Uhm, I just wanted to say happy belated birthday! I know you don’t want to celebrate this year, but I was thinking we could have dinner? Or something, I know you’ve been working a lot more. I figured you could have a break?” he stops speaking waiting for Ashlyn to respond.
She sighs and drops her shirt back onto her torso. She kinda forgot to mention what had happened last night. She knows how Logan gets when someone he loves is put into any dangerous situations, even if they can handle themselves.
Which she certainly can!
But she didn’t want to be the reason for him to be back in that headspace.
Her posture straightens and she reaches across her bed, pulling everything off. First goes the pillows, which go in one pile, then the blankets and sheets, which go in another. The whole time she takes extra care to not worsen her injury.
Little help that did because the headache, along with her bruises, got worse. She really hopes the annoyance of that fact won’t creep into her voice. She hates sounding even a little bit rude to her longtime friend.
Ashlyn grabs the phone and drops back onto the now empty bed.
“I-“.
“Before you say anything, It’ll be at my place, you know it’s much quieter at mine”, he interrupts.
She can hear the smile in his voice.
He is right. Logan, thanks to his salary, lives in a nicer neighborhood filled with old people. He specifically chose it because he’s always gotten better along with them. When he asked about it his real estate agent gave him such a weird look because why would a 20 year old willingly live by grandmas and grandpas?
Logan had complained to Ashlyn in private about it later on. It surprised her because he rarely complains about anything.
“Okay.” Is all she says at his insistence.
She stands up once more and starts to move out of her room. She has to step over the piles of bedding. She puts the call on speaker and slips the phone into her pocket. Even with her ear plugs everything is pretty loud so she could hear him before, but she still puts the call on speaker to be sure she won’t miss a single word Logan says.
Walking to the kitchen suddenly seems to take a mile despite it being a few feet, especially since she has to stop twice to lean on the wall. Her dizziness and nausea is screwing her over.
She used to be better at handling injuries but she hasn’t fought anyone since her parents death and it’s been quite awhile since then.
She makes it to the kitchen and presses her warm forehead onto the cool counter top.
She hears a sigh, a rolling chair, and a pen clicking. She thinks he’s started fidgeting.
Opening the cupboard pulls on her torso so she stops, takes a long breathe, holds it and continues. She pulls down a glass and walks a few steps left to the sink.
She starts to fill her cup with water.
“I hear the tap running, you shouldn’t be drinking that crap.” He says nettled that Ashlyn keeps drinking the ‘harmful’ water.
Logan’s picked up the habit of cursing when he’s annoyed. It’s insanely out of the norm for him unless the twins have done something.
Particularly Tyler.
She blames him even learning cuss words on his line of work since neither she nor his grandparents cussed around him.
“The city says it’s clean.” But she empties the cup into the sink. Another few steps away is the fridge. She pulls on the door and reaches in for a water bottle.
“And the city is filled with liars. Need I remind you that most of our Infrastructure is extremely old?” There’s no more noise coming from his end other than his voice. She shuts the fridge and opens the bottle.
“Yes majority of it has been replaced but not all of it let alone your part of the city. I don’t want you taking that risk.” They both know that if Ashlyn’s building had lead pipes she would’ve been sick already but he still freaks out about it.
“I’ve seen deaths caused by lead, I won’t let you die that way. I won’t let you die at all.”
Her throat closes up at that admission. “I won’t let you either.”
She takes a sip of water, her mouth suddenly dry at the tone shift. She opens the drawer closest to her and reaches in hoping for anything to relieve the stress on her body only to return empty handed.
She had used the rest of it last night after her little…excursión and had forgotten that she did.
If she ever sees Orpheus again she’s going to ask for money to replace her pain meds. It doesn’t matter that she has money to get more it’s the fact that him and William caused her need for the medication.
“Okay.” Comes out of the phones speaker. She knows Logan is doing his soft smile, the one that makes his eyes look darker kind of like the ocean. She takes one more sip then screws the cap back on.
Her left side spasms, she drops her water bottle and wraps her now free arms around her torso. She needs medical attention, this is going to suck. Atleast some kind of otherworldly being likes her enough to let her close the water bottle before dropping it;she would hate to have wet socks right now.
“Can I stop by the clinic today?” She grits out.
“Why? Are you hurt? Ashlyn you just let me bug you about water when your bleeding out?” Logan continues speaking of how she should’ve said something and how if she died Logan wouldn’t be a person anymore just an empty shell.
Despite what they just spoke about she thinks he is being dramatic certain she doesn’t matter that much to him in the long run.
She will be proven wrong.
“I will show up in thirty.”
“Ash-“
She pulls out the phone and hangs up.
She places her phone onto the counter and grips it while hanging her head. Her left arm still wrapped around her waist.
“Fuck.”
She takes a deep breath, her side aching even more now. She stares at the rolling bottle. It stops right at her feet, she kicks it forward.
She takes her hand and phone off the counter. Hunched, she turns and walks out of the kitchen back to her bedroom. She makes it to the door before coughing harshly enough that she needs to lean on the frame.
How and why are her ribs getting worse?
Maybe that otherworldly being doesn’t like her and instead just pity’s her situation.
She takes an even five minutes to sit there and breathe before deciding she needs to clean herself and hurry to Logan before he decides to send someone for her. It doesn’t happen often but It’s always so awkward trying to convince them to leave her alone. It almost never works.
Thankfully her dresser is right by her rooms door so it doesn’t take long to pick out a reasonable outfit. It also helps that she really only wears the same 3 colors so she doesn’t have to worry if they match. She walks back out into the hallway and turns to the right side, which holds the bathroom.
She opens the door and flicks the light on. It’s a one bath and shower with good enough water pressure, Ashlyn isn’t complaining. Though it wouldn’t hurt for the temperatures to be reliable.
She places the clothing on the toilet seat, her earplugs on the counter along with her phone, and opens the cabinet to take out new bandages. Time to see if her shower feels like being nice today. Sometimes she has enough hot water to last a full twenty minutes, other times it’s only for five.
She opens the curtains, the squeaky metal on metal more irritating today, and sighs. She turns the knobs for the perfect temperature and takes off her shirt. She starts unwrapping the already loose bandages and feels immediate relief from it.
So despite being told to apply pressure to any and all injuries growing up, pressure might not help in this case. She’ll ask Logan when she sees him later.
Once they are completely off she throws them into the trash can. She fully undresses and walks under the shower head. The warm water running over her is a paradise she’s so grateful to have.
She looks down at the bruise on her ribs which seems to have spread over night. She presses a finger into it and hisses. Damn it, those bandages really didn’t work.
After that realization she quickly cleanses her body of what’s leftover from last nights dream.
She exits the shower after turning it off. She grabs one of the three towels she owns. Oddly most things in her life are in threes, isn’t that a weird coincidence? She dries off quickly and cleans her ears so she can put back in the ear plugs.
Next step in her routine is putting on lotion.
While brushing her teeth she debates wrapping her ribs again then decides against it. She will be bringing them with her in case it actually does help. She dresses in a pair of cargo pants and a hoodie. Really bland but they get the job done.
She then parts her hair to make her signature two braids. Her knee length hair can be troublesome but it’s something she’s always prided herself in.
She leaves the bathroom fully dressed and ready for the day. All she needs are her shoes, her bag, and to strap her knife to her hips. Now is she going to get in a fight on the way to Logan? Probably not. But she has been taught to be prepared for anything. Perhaps she should contact her old instructors to spruce up on her skills.
She makes her way through the house, grabbing things, while going towards the front door. She packs the water bottle that fell earlier and a protein bar for breakfast. She takes her time strapping the knife not wanting it too loose or tight before quickly putting on her boots and leaving. Logan may be giving her grace by not blowing up her phone but if she shows up late he’s going to be upset. She doesn’t want to see him upset.
So she takes the elevator down and rushes out of the building. She likes walking the most but it’d be faster to take the subway. It’d also be easier on her body. She coughs wetly into her elbow. God now shes coughing? How bad are her ribs now? She needs to get to Logan fast.
She hurries down the steps and jumps the turnstiles—look she doesn’t use the subway why would she have a card? Besides they make it too easy to just walk in. Jumping wasn’t the best idea because now her side is tensed uncomfortably but at least she isn’t spending money to use the subway. A win is a win Taylor would say
She has a few minutes before the train gets here so she stands against the wall opposite to the entrance. She shivers and hears the static. She looks around for anyone she recognizes or who looks suspicious but she fails to notice anybody. Where is that Phantom? She gets off the wall and starts walking towards the tracks when she clocks a squeaky shoe moving at the exact pace she is.
Looking to her right, she sees a tall figure with blue jeans and a black hoodie. They tilt their head which shows off the cap under their hood and the mask over their face. The only thing visible is their eyes which are an unsettling red. When they make eye contact the static increases—there they are.
Their eyes widen and crinkle, as if the person is smiling. Ashlyn looks away, fuck, If they didn’t notice her before they have now.
She hasn’t purposely interacted with any Phantoms since she was seventeen. Are they finally coming to end the girl they left behind five years ago? The one who had to watch her parents get torn apart? The one who ran—the one who didn’t even try to save her only family?
No, they couldn’t be.
The Phantom seemed to not have even seen Ashlyn before she went looking for them. They’ve also never tried to come after her before.
This is just a fluke, a random Phantom who’s coincidentally in the same station as her.
At least she hopes so.
The train comes in with a whoosh, there’s a five second wait before the doors open. Since it’s almost ten the rush to get to work has died down a little but there’s still a group pushing to get on. Ashlyn will just get lost in the traffic, praying that the stranger won’t push for her.
She ends up at the back with a man in a wrinkled suit, and a woman who is pushing around a stroller with three babies. Triplets she presumes.
The Phantom, no where to be seen. Thank you otherworldly being for that. She doesn’t want to worry Logan even more but perhaps she should message him about the situation, right?
He’s already upset about her injuries, he is going to be pissed about the robber and Orpheus, so at second glance… no, he doesn’t need to know yet.
One of the babies coos and Ashlyn snaps out of her thoughts. Now that she’s paying attention to her surroundings—the noise has increased ten fold as does her headache.
Either her injuries are making her more sensitive to sound or her enhanced hearing is ‘evolving’. She is going with the first one. Now that she’s thinking about it, she has been needing to get a new pair of ear plugs. The ones she has are well over seven years old. She was told to replace them every five years but she certainly has not been doing that.
Her mom would be upset with her.
She doesn’t exactly know why she needs to change them since they are molded exactly to her ear canal—and are cleaned regularly— but that’s what the professionals said.
The man next to her keeps on pulling at his jacket in an attempt to get out the wrinkles, it isn’t working. Ashlyn can nearly hear the rubbing from it. She still hears the static.
This train needs to hurry.
By the time the train makes it to west end it’s 10:05, which means she is late. Her childhood friend is definitely distressed now. She shoots him a message that she’s down the street and practically runs out of the station when the doors open.
This is so not good for her but it’s fine—she is literally running to go to the doctors. The further she gets the less she hears the static. Soon she comes up to Logan’s clinic. Now technically he is a hero doctor who works at the tower but his grandparents bought him the clinic as gift for reaching level nine before 21. A feat that makes Logan fairly known.
The U.S medics work in levels of nine.
1-3 are the fresh graduates, 1 being the lowest of the class and 3 being the highest of the class. 4-6 are the mid tiers, these ranks determine if you can carry on as whatever position you were assigned or if you flunk out.
If you become a 4 you can try medical school once more before being permanently banned from practicing. Once you make it to 5 you are a permanent resident in that position and can be moved to certain cities and states depending upon your abilities. 6 means you can decide to move positions after extensive training in your original position and you are upgraded to more ‘advanced’ hospitals.
7-9 decide what rate you are. These ranks, unlike the others, you can be moved up and down at anytime if the board decides it. Let’s say you were a 9 but you’ve messed up at least half of your cases in half a year? You’d be moved down to an 8. If you mess up more and drop down to a 7 then mess up again? Your license is revoked. You are then never allowed to practice medicine again.
Let’s say you start off as a 7 but continue to improve? You can be moved up to a 8. The ones who are the most consistent, always improving, maybe discover a thing or two? Those are the 9’s. With these ranks you can reject being moved up but it’s unheard of to reject being a 9.
Logan became a 9 because he’s grown to be one of the most accurate neurosurgeons in the past two decades. When he made it to 8 he decided to learn basics of every profession which helped in the board’s decision to move him up.
But back to his clinic. With his salary as a hero doctor he can manage this clinic and employe many 7 and 8’s to take care of it when he’s not around. The clinic even interns the 4-6 ranks.
She coughs dryly which makes her decide to stop staring at the building and go inside. The inside of it is multiple colors, practically every one except for red. Logan wanted it to feel warm and safe not cold and blank.
Looking around there’s no one in the waiting room besides the receptionist. She can barely hear the staff either so they must’ve opened late today. Oh wait, she just remembered, the board was doing a rank review today—everyone was scared of dropping. The board only does a rank review once a month. There are exceptions but rarely.
The receptionist glances up and smiles. “Good morning Ms.Banner!”
Johnny looks well and healthy.
“Good morning.” She responds before walking up the desk and signing in.
“Are you here to see Dr. Fields?” Johnny says taking the paper she wrote on.
“Yes, I don’t have an appointment sorry.”
“That’s fine, you are allowed to see Dr. Fields anytime he isn’t with a patient. You get special permission.” He says typing on his computer.
“Ah I keep forgetting that little detail.” She says breathily. “Thank you Johnny.” She nods at him and starts for the elevator.
She clicks the number two button and the elevator starts to hum. It lurches then lifts her up. It dings after a few seconds and the doors open.
She takes a deep breath and walks out to meet with Logan— who is standing right outside the elevator. He looks her over once and turns for his room.
Ashlyn knows he’s irritated.
They walk in uncomfortable silence until he opens the door and gestures for her to go in first.
She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room while he presses the door shut, the click the only noise either of them make.
“So explain to me what happened and where you are hurt.” He smiles ominously. She gulps and winces. He is really angry then. She looks around for the patient table and sits in it.
“Uhm I kinda got robbed at the store last night?” His eyes widen at that information. “And Orpheus was there too…” he intakes a sharp breath and holds it. “And they got away.”
Logan closes his eyes and takes off his glasses. “How did you get injured?”
“I uh jumped off the front counter and wrestled with the robber for a little.” She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her lips together.
There’s a click of his glasses and taps of his foot.
There’s steps until he is right in front of her. She opens an eye and he’s grimacing. “Let me see Ashlyn.”
Sensing that any defiance will make his mood worse she silently lifts the left side of her shirt. Looking at it now in better lighting—it’s definitely big spanning her entire left rib cage—and it’s a dark, dark purple.
“Oh my!” Logan leans closer towards it.
Hesitantly she utters “If it makes you feel better I wrapped it earlier?”
“NO-“, Logan scrunches his face in anger and takes five deep breathes before continuing. “That makes it worse Ashlyn, much, much, much worse.” She drops her shirt while he walks away to the counter and opens a drawer. He pulls out a pad of paper and a pen and start writing quickly. Soon enough he tears off the paper and hands it to her.
“You are going to go buy an ice pack, extra strength Tylenol, and ibuprofen. Don’t take the ibuprofen until three days have passed. You will call off work for the next two days and rest, icing your ribs for twenty minutes three times a day. You will walk around your apartment every hour for at least five minutes preferably ten. You will cough a couple of times every two hours to ensure the mucus in your lungs go away as well as taking ten deep breathes every hour. It will hurt but it will work.”
He pauses and looks at her, like directly at her. “Don’t over do any form of exercise at all and I mean at all.” She frowns and he snaps. “No, no I mean it. It will get worse and you could get pneumonia and die.”
She feels like when she would get scolded at for losing during sparring or for messing up some new knife technique. She flinches ever so slightly when he raises a hand to pat her head, Logan is not her old teachers though so she smiles up at him instead. “Okay.”
He takes his hand away. “One last thing, when you’re sleeping sit up so there wont be pressure on your ribs. You are lucky I’m not making you stay here so I can monitor you.”
She nods at her childhood best friend. “Thank you for seeing me Logan.”
He sighs and smiles at her. “You can come up anytime, you know that.” The light blonde grabs his chair and sits down.
Ashlyn opens the paper she got handed—it says everything she was just told. She folds it twice before putting it in her pocket.
“When am I supposed to go to your house?”
“I’m off tomorrow so anytime after eleven is fine.” That means he’s working until six in the morning today. Logan pulls out his phone and starts tapping, presumably texting someone.
Ashlyn taps her fingers against her seat. “How are the twins?” The twins in question are Tyler and Taylor. She doesn’t really talk to them because they remind her of her parents—a hero duo— and they only know each other because of Logan.
He blushes a little before saying. “Tyler tripped on the streets yesterday and scraped his nose a little so he came to see me, he brought the good chocolates.” He pauses and clears his throat.
“Taylor is doing amazing—she actually listens to me about being careful.” She nods along to his words. “Is it legal for you to tell me about Tyler’s injury.” She puts quotes on injury.
“Technically no, but I know you won’t do anything and he won’t care since it’s you.”
“I’d argue he would care because it’s me but you know him better.” She shrugs.
Logan looks up at her and presses his glasses closer to his eyes. They settle gently against his freckled cheeks. “He may act angry at you but he does like you as a friend, enjoys your company. Taylor really likes you, says you understand her.”
She doesn’t know why Taylor thinks so highly of her but it makes her feel bright inside. She coughs a little before commenting. “Maybe I should talk to them more? I don’t know it’s hard to uh. To say anything to them without thinking of my family.”
He hums;she pulls out her phone. She opens her messages and taps the empty group chat with the four of them.
“Maybe you could…if you do talk to them more it could replace your thoughts? Correlate new memories with the twins.” She glances at him, he is staring intently at her, she looks back down.
She starts writing a new message.
‘I’m celebrating my birthday at Logan’s tomorrow if you two want to come over.’ That should be enough.
“Oh I have a patient coming so you should leave soon. I have lunch at twelve if you want to eat with me?”
Logan’s phone dings at the same time the elevator does. She hears a phantom. Her head snaps towards the door and glances at Logan.
He looks sheepish? “There’s a phantom coming.” She whispers.
“Ah that’s uh my patient.” Huh? What? Why would Logan knowingly work with a phantom? Why wouldn’t he tell her? After all their history with them—Ashlyn losing her parents and Logan’s family being part of the reason Phantoms exist—why would he help a Phantom? He of all people know how bad they are. The more she tries to make sense of it the more she realizes, she doesn’t truly know Logan anymore.
Before she can voice anything the office door swings open.
There stands a stranger dressed in all black, their hood pulled up and over a cap. A mask is pulled down onto their chin.
Wait is that—It’s the fucking phantom from the train station.
She rises from the bed,the paper underneath crinkling. Ashlyn now knows the Phantom is a guy because she can his face—it is Aiden Clark.
She looks back at a smiling? Logan who has his arm gesturing to her. “Don’t mind her. She didn’t know I was going to have a patient.” He says trying to placate the tension.
She turns to Aiden and takes in his person. He is relaxed but looks excited. The rumors of the crazy Clark weren’t lying it seems. Supposedly, the reason for the Clark’s only son being put into boarding school, wasn’t for connections or education, but because he had mental issues. Some say schizophrenia, bipolar, depression, anxiety. All the ‘normal’ illnesses to have. In actuality he isn’t crazy but is a Phantom, wonder how long they’ve been keeping this quiet.
I guess her comparison to the Clark’s being like Batman was closer than she originally thought. Except it’s a double life as a villain rather than a hero.
She finally brings her gaze to his, still unsettling, red eyes. “Aiden Clark.” She puts emphasis on the k.
“Ashlyn banner.” He responds. How the hell does he know her name? She needs to leave like immediately. A Clark knowing her—a Phantom knowing her? She can’t leave Logan.
Shes stuck between running, because this can’t possibly mean anything good for her, and staying to protect Logan from this murderer. Well presumed murderer but still. Does she leave her family to Phantoms again?
She doesn’t care how Logan knows him, why Aiden is his patient, or what he’s here for, she isn’t making that mistake again. She moves quickly towards Logan, going infront of him. She slips her hand beneath her hoodie, into her waistband, and pulls out her knife.
“Ash-.” She grabs his arm to stop him. “How do you know me?” Aiden giggles. God that’s creepy.
Logan rips his arm out of her grip and steps out from behind her. “Ashlyn he isn’t going to do anything.” She whips her head to the dirty blonde. “Huh? Logan he is, well you know, of course he’ll do something.” Did Logan forget that his entire family is hated for leaving the Phantom group? Ashlyn may not know the whole thing nor the reasons but come on his family literally gets hunted for it.
“Yea, Ashlyn, I won’t do a thing.” He grins impossibly wider and stalks forward reaching the tip of the pointed knife.
“Aiden he uh… god get away from her knife please! He isn’t like the rest of them, he wasn’t turned by choice.” He stands on the side between both of them with his arms raised outward. She looks at Logan’s panicked face and loosens her grip slightly.
Maybe she doesn’t have to worry about Phantoms hurting her family again. Maybe she isn’t backed into a corner like she was before. Maybe she didn’t have to make a choice in the first place. “I’m giving you two”, she waves her empty arm, gesturing to the others in the room. “five minutes to explain before I start doing more than pointing a knife.”