Chapter Text
Jon hated group projects. Jon hated interacting with his classmates and Jon hated peer pressure. Jon was also hated by God. Or some other higher power (if one existed at all), he mused, because in that moment, Jon had to deal with all three of those things, and also his adoptive parents stupid ghost hunting basement.
It was supposed to be another stupid, goddamned class project. (And the question of why projects were already being assigned a week into the school year was a mystery all in of itself.)
Just invite the three people he was supposed to work with to the madhouse he’s lived in since he was eight and his grandmother decided he was too much of a bother to raise, suffer through another english assignment, this time with three times more unnecessary input than usual, then herd the group out the door and be done with it.
Fate hated Jon though, and so did his classmates, because one of them, Tim, decided to coerce Jon into showing them the basement lab or the group would go down there by themselves, and as much as he wanted to, Jon couldn't let that happen. They’d probably accidentally trigger or trip over something and kill themselves without his help, so with a long-suffering sigh, he descended down the stairs to join them. The lab was one gigantic OSHA violation and the Fentons didn't need more lawsuits.
The drone of machinery grew louder the deeper the quartet went, the soft green glow present as usual. Tim’s flouncing down the metal stairs made a clanging noise with each step, Sasha’s laughter reverberating in the small space. Martin hung back, nervously glancing around. As much as he found the other boy annoying, Jon could at least respect that.
“Sooo, let’s see that spooooky basement of yours!” Tim said in a sing song voice, spinning around on his heel. “Caught any ghosts yet?”
“I mean- uh, I’d hope not, heh… Didn't your parents say ghosts are very dangerous?” Martin shuffled his feet together, nervously laughing.
“Ghosts are bullshit and I’d hope you’d all be rational enough to understand that. Lord knows I spend enough time around crackpots.” Jon appreciated the Fentons for taking him in, of course, but even his love for them didn't extend to believing in ghosts. Besides, he had a reputation to uphold. Regardless of if he had any friends (which he didn't) he still couldn't be seen as a ghost-believing, irrational idiot. His social life would be even deader than it already was.
“Oh come on, live a little Jon! You have something as cool as this right under your nose everyday, and you don't even explore it?” Sasha remarked, Tim nodding along enthusiastically.
Jon huffed. “I have enough exploring when I have to clean this place every week.”
“Is that… dangerous?” Martin hesitantly asked.
“Kind of.” Jon replied curtly. “Nothing I can do about it.”
The pair was interrupted by Sasha and Tim’s twin gasps. “Whooaa, what is that?”
The pair was staring at the portal. A giant hunk of metal the Fentons have been working on since their college days. The thing was supposed to lead to “the ghost zone”, some sort of afterlife or alternate dimension or what not. Jon, despite the lectures he was subjected to during most family dinners, knew very little about it and, to be frank, wasn’t planning to learn any more. Especially since the thing didn't even work.
“10 bucks for you to go inside!” Tim yelped excitedly.
“Tim, we don’t even know what that is!” Sasha chided. “But you should definitely go inside Jon, I want a photo.”
Jon blinked.
“What.”
“No, absolutely not!” Jon continued, brushing invisible dust off one of his shoulders. He sniffed defiantly.
“Okay, but what is it?” Sasha continued, fiddling with the strap of a small digital camera. “And what does it have to do with ghosts? It looks like something out of a movie about aliens… or zombies… or something like that.”
“Ghost portal.” Jon waved his hand in an arching motion towards the hole in the wall. “It’s supposed to be a gateway to the Ghost Zone. My parents tried to open it this morning, but it didn't work.” He shrugged.
“Jazz and I tried telling them that the reason it didn't work is because ghosts don’t exist, but they didn't listen.”
“Sooo… uh, where are the Dr’s. Fenton now?” Martin meekly interjected.
Jon let out a long-suffering sigh (Jazz always told him he had a flair for the dramatics) leaning against one of the cold steel tables pushed up to the wall (prior to checking it didn’t have any skin melting chemicals or explosion-prone hunks of metal, of course).
“Camping. Wanted to ‘clear their heads’ or something of that sort.” Jon felt tired. He knew he shouldn't complain, but the constant ghost-talk in the house had started to become exhausting, especially with the portal nearing completion. Jazz had already commented on the fact that the topic had taken a toll on the emotional state of the siblings multiple times, but, as always, her words fell on deaf ears.
He shook his head slightly, as if to right the train of thought that was rapidly veering off the correct track. He looked at the small group of teenagers scattered around the lab. Martin, wisely, hung back, close enough to the stairs to bolt at the first sign of a “nefarious and ghostly” something or other. Tim and Sasha sported twin grins, the type that heralded nothing but mischief, and were standing alarmingly close to the portal.
It seems like the pair had not lost the idea to send someone inside it. Tim was wiggling his eyebrows in a way that was probably supposed to be encouraging, but only succeeded in making Jon feel mildly nauseous with anxiety. Sasha stood next to him, giggling into her hand and clutching her digital camera in the other hand.
Deciding to cut his losses and concede, Jon shot the pair a scathing glare, but walked over to the clothing rack that held the whole family’s HAZMAT suits without further complaint. The curtain of different colored material was mostly orange and teal, shot through with two slivers of lavender. He picked out the smaller, purple suit. It used to belong to Jazz when she was younger and then got passed onto him after her growth spurt.
With a well placed glare he gestured for the others to cover their eyes and turn away, slipping the suit over his clothes and zipping it up. The material was shiny, stiff and stuck to his hands. He cringed, glad that the teens couldn't see him flap his hands in disgust. Jon tugged the black gloves over his hands and turned on his heel, deliberately making his footsteps loud so that Sasha, Tim and Martin would know he was finished putting the suit on.
“Right.” Jon said. “I’m only doing this so that you all calm down about the portal. I walk in, I walk out, and then we all go upstairs to finish the project, understood?”
Snickering under his breath, Tim walks over to Jon, slapping a hand on his shoulder and patting it.
“You go ghost boy!”
Jon felt himself redden in humiliation, glad that his darker skin didn't show his blush strongly. He shrugged Tim’s hand off, and looked back towards the door leading out of the lab. Too late to back away now… he thought.
Sasha shot him a double thumbs up, mouthing “Go Jon!!” silently. Martin joined her, smiling shyly. Jon turned away, facing the portal. He had a terrible feeling about this. A chill shot up his spine, raising the hairs on his arms. The lab always was slightly chilly.
He rolled his shoulders, desperately trying to postpone walking into the yawning maw of the cold, darkened portal. A way for the living to get into The Afterlife, created with metal, electricity and a curious green substance his parents called “ectoplasm”. The idea was preposterous. Utterly ridiculous. It seemed like something out of a book or a movie.
Still… Jon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply, deeply wrong about the blasted thing. He shivered. The fluorescent lights buzzed, drilling deep into his brain. He felt like a small creature, walking into the jaws of a giant, menacing predator.
The sounds of the teens faded into the background, Jon’s blood rushing in his ears and dimming every sound other than the hammering of his heart and the sound of his breathing. In an effort to take his mind off of his panic, he brushed his long, curly hair out of his eyes. He debated pulling it into a ponytail, but with his gloves on he didn't have access to the hair tie he kept on his wrist.
The metal frame of the portal, the edges of it adorned with yellow and black caution tape, peeling from years of work on the machine it was plastered in. He put his fingers on the edge, keeping his touch light, scared to break the thing, even though he logically knew he wouldn't be able to.
His feet, clad in the black rubber boots, stepped over the threshold. A red light blinked over him, and he prayed to whoever and whatever might listen that it was not a sign forecasting something grim. His steps echoed around the metal deathtrap. Jon lingered at the mouth of the portal a few seconds more. With an internal scoff aimed at himself, he took a big step forward. One more. And another.
Slowly trekking towards the end of the portal, Jon kept his hands to himself, scared of damaging anything or sticking his hands into any electrical wiring. The air around him was cold and smelled of ozone, like the wires peppered around released pure electricity into the air. That was the only way Jon could perceive it. It made his hair stand on end and his teeth buzz with an uncomfortable feeling.
Okay. He was done. Enough of this. He thought. He stopped a few paces away from the end of the long hole in the wall and turned around. Jon could faintly see the outlines of his classmates standing a fair distance away from the portal entrance.
A sudden sound of metal scraping against metal startled Jon, causing him to jump in surprise. He tripped on a thick rubber-covered wire, and before he could even comprehend the fact, he felt himself trip and fall. With a barely audible yelp, he leaned with his hand against the wall.
The gravity of the mistake he’d made dawned on him at the exact moment he heard a faint click. He whipped his head around to look at the button and flinched away, but at that point it was already too late. Jon’s left hand was pressed into a glaring red button, emblazoned with one word. “ON”
Jon heard a ear-splitting whirring sound, and then he heard nothing more. Electricity traveled up his veins, digging, digging, digging deep into his skin and bones like a million pins and needles stabbing them. He felt like he was both freezing and burning alive at the same time.
The awful sound of the portal starting up rang out in the air, harmonizing with the sound Jon soon realized was his own screaming. He desperately wished he would just pass out instead of staying fully conscious despite the absolute agony that overwhelmed his senses.
And then- it stopped. One moment, he was more pain than person, and the next - nothing. If he were more present in his body at the time, he would’ve called it anticlimactic. He slumped over, limbs still shaking with leftover tremors. His throat was raw and scratchy from all the screaming.
Screaming… which still hasn’t stopped? He was sure he wasn’t making those noises, he wouldn’t even be able to! His head snapped up to face the direction from which the shouts were coming from, which caused two of the voices to be replaced by loud gasps while one continued to scream at a frequency that caused Jon’s already poor and abused head to pound. Was that… Tim?
“Wha…?” Jon coughed. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Jon? Jon, is that you?” It was Sasha. Her tone was frantic, she seemed scared? Worried? That made sense. She might not know him, or even like him, but he was just practically fried to a crisp in the stupid portal and probably narrowly escaped death. Wait. He should be in so much pain right now. Why wasn’t he in any pain? Yes, he felt cold, a terrible icy grip clutching at his heart and nipping at his face and hands, but he only felt… numb.
He tried to get back to his feet, but tripped, falling back onto his ass with a groan. Deciding to default to his first choice of defence mechanism, he shot back a retort.
“Yes,” He sniffed. “Who else was I supposed to be!”
The barb didn’t land, at all. Tim’s eyes widened, his mouth flying open in shock. He let out a nervous laugh. “Dude! I think you just died.” Jon blinked in surprise and then recoiled.
“What. What the hell do you mean?!”
“Yeah. After you went into the portal and it- um- activated? I think you were electrocuted. I mean, why else would you look like that.” He waved a hand around, arcing it in a circle over Jon’s head. With a scoff of offence, Jon was just about to reprimand Tim, but he saw a strand of something snow white float into his view. It looked like hair. He tugged on it, and let out a soft cry of shock when it hurt. That was his hair? How was this possible!? A bit, or even a lot, of electricity was definitely not something that could change hair color.
As the pure white strand curled and twisted between his gloved fingers, he noticed the gloves also changed color. The synthetic material was glowing with an unnatural light, emanating from the surface. It seemed like the source of it came from within the hand. His eyes traveled upward, above his elbow. The lavender colored suit was lavender no more. As his hair and gloves changed and inverted, so did the suit. It turned a deep emerald green, the same eerie glow laced into it.
He struggled to form a sentence. Hell, he struggled to form even a coherent thought. Jon couldn’t possibly be dead. Or a ghost. Because that’s the only explanation. You’re either dead and gone or...
“I’m a ghost?”
Jon liked to project a sensible and collected exterior to everyone other than himself and his sister, but since all the people in this have literally seen him die, he decided that maybe it was time to let that mask slip. Just a little bit though. He still valued his image, as tarnished as it may be now.
Too busy dissociating and trying to melt into the floor, Jon didn't notice Martin carefully walking over. He had his hands outstretched like he was approaching a startled wild animal. That probably wasn't too far off the mark now, wasn't it. It’s not like Jon was still human.
“Jon? Can I touch you?” He heard Martin’s voice somewhere above him. The boy was already a head taller than him, and now that Jon was sitting on the floor, Martin towered over him. Detached, Jon nodded. He was too tired to actually be embarrassed over showing -eugh- feelings.
He felt a soft, warm hand land on his shoulder and then- it kept going through it. He heard Martin stifle a gasp, and then heard Tim shout.
“WHOA! Marto’s hand went right through!”
The loud noise sent another painful jolt through his head. He scowled deeply.
“Tim,”
“Yeah buddy?”
“Please shut up.” One of the things Jon liked about Tim was the fact the other boy didn't bat an eye at Jon’s particularly sharp retorts.
“Fair enough.” With a shrug, Tim joined Martin on Jon’s other side. As one, the pair lifted him up to his feet, his knees still too shaky to stand on his own. Already feeling slightly overwhelmed with how everyone was crowding him, he barely managed to not flinch back when Sasha approached him with a small pocket mirror, held in her hands.
His reflection in the smooth, silvery surface of the thing was all wrong. Jon’s normally dark brown skin had a greenish pallor to it, and his curly hair was white. But the most jarring part of his appearance was definitely the startlingly green eyes, almost the exact same toxic color as the portal. His pupils were white and reflected the meagre lighting of the lab. Tapetum lucidum, that's what it was called, Jon remembered.
He was broken out of his musings by Tim’s elated gasp. He turned his head, quirking the judgiest questioning eyebrow he could manage at the moment. Tim made a small noise of excitement before pointing at Jon’s feet… or no, not at his feet. He was pointing at the floor, which was a few inches below Jon’s feet.
“Jon you’re floating!! This is so cool!” Tim crowed happily, looking like a child on Christmas morning.
With a yelp of “THIS IS NOT COOL!” Jon floated up even higher. He flapped his hands like a demented goose, spun around once, floated upside down and unceremoniously dropped flat on his back on the lab floor accompanied by a chorus of giggles. Jon was momentarily floored by the whiplash of the portal incident vs. whatever was happening at the moment.
Climbing to his feet again (and batting away the hand Martin outstretched in order to help), Jon decided to try and get the room in order. He tried to calmy but forcefully tell the other teenagers to settle down, but was unsuccessful. Catching another glimpse of himself in Sasha’s mirror, the gravity of his situation dawned on him suddenly.
He was a ghost.
His parents hunted ghosts. A notion that seemed utterly ridiculous before, but now, with firsthand experience of the existence of the restless dead, the boy realized the danger of living? existing? in the same house as them. He didn't even look the same as he looked when he was alive! Oh no, was he going to have to runaway from home? Pass on?
As his mind spun with all the distressing realizations, he felt a spark ignite somewhere next to the still and quiet place that held his heart. A bright white light flashed at the centre of his vision. He gasped and almost fell over (again) as he felt warmth seep back into his body. A ragged breath, the first one he took in a while, made the hair falling over his eyes move away. Jon noticed the hair was back to it’s normal, almost black, brown.
“Wait, so you can still look human?” Tim’s face slid into his field of vision from the left, the pink mop of his hair bouncing as it’s owner poked and prodded Jon all over. The taller boy jabbed a finger into Jon’s shoulder repeatedly and announced. “My finger is 100 % not passing through. Does this mean you’re like, what, half dead? Can you be only half ghost? Can you turn back into a ghost?”
Ignoring most of Tim’s barrage of questions, Jon rubbed his chest, right over his heart. There was a thrumming there, distinctly different from anything resembling alive, something that he knew meant that yes, he could turn into a ghost again. He nodded. Well, it seemed his earlier worries of being stuck in ghost form were unfounded.
Sasha suddenly perked up, the expression on her face clearly relaying the fact she just had an idea.
“Hey, who here knows how to check a pulse?” She asked.
Martin shyly raised his hand. With a triumphant smile the girl motioned for him to come closer to Jon.
“Okay, so I had a thought. Jon’s, to some degree still a ghost, right? I don’t think he was breathing before, but he’s definitely breathing now. Check his pulse, maybe something’s up with his heartbeat now too.”
Martin reddened, but slowly moved closer. With a small mumble of “Can I-?”, he moved closer. Jon replied with only a small mumbled affirmative and lifted up his chin. The neck was a pulse point, right? Martin made a small stifled noise that sounded halfway between a cough and a squeak, but lifted two fingers and nestled them on Jon’s neck, just below his jaw.
Martin waited.
And waited. Jon was just about to pull away with a scoff, but Martin beat him to it. The ginger took a step back and sighed.
“Right. It looks like his heartbeat is fainter than it should be. Also, and I’m not a medical professional or anything,” he chuckled lightly, as if to diffuse the tension. “but I think his heartbeat is only half as fast as it’s supposed to be.”
Oh, that wasn't so bad then. Jon might have to avoid doctor visits and hospitals from now on, but that was manageable, right? He already had to deal with a lot of inconveniences in life, a few ghostly traits wasn't that bad.
“I’ll deal with it somehow.” Jon sighed, not bothering to hide his exhaustion. Tim brushed up against his shoulder.
“I think we’re all tired after… that. Let’s go upstairs and eat.” He turned to face Jon. “You do have normal food, right? Not just possessed hot dogs?”
Ah. He must’ve witnessed the fight Jon had with the ectowieners just before the rest of the group arrived at Fentonworks. Embarrassing.
“Yes.” He started to move towards the steel stairs leading back up and into the kitchen, but stopped mid step when he heard a thud behind him. Tim was already halfway up, and Martin was just behind Jon. Sasha was the only one standing in the lab proper.
“That’s great guys, but-...” she trailed off.
Jon heard her shuffle and emit a gasp. He turned on his heel, alarmed. The girl was pointing at something laying at the foot of the portal.
“What about- that.”