Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One: Possession

The siren blared through the halls of Casper High. Arms crossed and her fingers gripping the straps of her orange backpack so tightly her nails would leave permanent indents in the faux leather, Valerie tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Sam Manson.

“Jeez, Sam, would you hurry up?” grumbled Tucker, who was glancing at the door so much she was surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Sorry, I’m trying, my stupid zipper is sticking,” she said, her voice squeaking and her hands shaking. Valerie rolled her eyes as she walked over and pushed Sam gently to the side, her own hands perfectly steady as she helped zip-up Sam’s backpack. She wanted to be angrier, but she knew that Sam had more reasons than most to be fearful of the ghost attacks. Sam gave her a sour look, but still murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Come on, kids, let’s go,” urged Mr. Lancer, and Valerie tightened the grip on her bag while glancing at her wristwatch. The ghost wasn’t too close at the moment, but that could change rapidly. She wished she could find some way to get away and change into her suit to handle it, but there was no way Mr. Lancer would let her leave their small group.

“Should we check the bathroom?” asked Tucker as they headed into the hall, the emergency lights flashing. 

“Hopefully Mr. Fenton is already outside. If not, we’ll talk to his parents,” said Mr. Lancer, which seemed like a perfectly rational course of action to Valerie. The sooner they got outside, the sooner she could probably find a moment to sneak away and take care of the ghost. Even though there were only four of them in detention, there were probably a bunch of other kids still here for their afternoon clubs and sports practices. 

“As if the Fentons will make anything better,” said Sam as she shakily followed them through the hall. Sam was right, of course. The Fentons meant well, really, but they often caused more damage than they prevented, and if they thought Danny was missing or hurt they would tear the school to pieces.

Valerie really, really hoped her ex-boyfriend was okay. Even after all of the ghost attacks and the destruction the awful creatures inflicted on Amity Park, Danny still defended them and insisted they should be treated with dignity and respect. His idealism was sweet but foolish, and after dozens of arguments about it the two of them ultimately broke off their relationship. They rarely spoke anymore, but then again, nobody really talked to Danny these days. Even Sam and Tucker, his best friends, barely managed to get him to engage in their conversations.

Sam and Tucker gave each other uneasy looks, but neither one left to check the bathroom, instead keeping close to Lancer as he led them to the exit. “Danny’s good at hiding when things get rough,” said Valerie as her watch buzzed, and glancing down she saw two signals now clustered together and getting closer to their location. Inwardly she groaned. She didn’t know who the original ghost was, but for the second signal, there was only one ghost it could possibly be. “And I bet Phantom will be here soon.”

Tucker quirked an eyebrow at her as they rounded the corner near the side entrance. “I thought you hated Phantom.”

“I don’t trust Phantom,” she snapped. She and Phantom held an uneasy truce most days now, but she still spent a lot of time waiting for the moment he inevitably betrayed her and everyone else. “But he’s efficient and incredibly effective at dealing with the ghosts. And at least there’s usually less collateral damage with him than there is with the Fentons.”

“I can’t argue with–” 

Suddenly the wall exploded in front of them, sending large bits of concrete and metal flying. Instinct kicked in as Valerie crouched into a ball, closed her eyes, and covered her head with her arms as the others screamed. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and then one of the screams abruptly cut off but she remained stubbornly in place until the last of the debris fell around them, knowing she couldn’t help anyone if she became severely injured, too. Dust clogged the air, and she coughed as she opened her eyes.

“Oh god, oh god, my leg,” whispered Tucker next to her. He clutched his leg, a nasty gash running about six inches down his calf. He would need stitches, no question. 

“Just keep pressure on it, okay?” said Valerie as she dug through her backpack, searching for her own first aid kit or a spare ecto gun. She always kept at least a needle and thread and some bandages, as well as half-dozen painkillers, tucked away for the inevitable aftermath of hunting the nastier ghosts, and she shoved a few gauze patches over at Tucker as she continued to search for her ecto gun. 

“Oh, shit, Mr. Lancer,” coughed Sam. Sam looked fine aside from a few scratches, but their teacher  was lying unconscious, a nasty wound on his head. And just beyond him, Valerie could barely make out Technus through the dusty air as the ghost struggled to reorient itself. She doubted they had long.

Valerie’s scratched hands found the extra ecto gun in her backpack just as a figure emerged through the ruined wall. Thick white gloves and heavy white, steel-toed boots accented the massive, black Tyvek hazmat suit. A respirator was attached to his darkened face shield, the hoses that were once clearly connected to some kind of air tank or reservoir broken, and a radio was clipped to his shoulder strap. There was a single tear in the suit - the palm of his left glove - where currently a swirl of green energy was building, and in his right hand he held a thermos clipped to a sling draped over his shoulder. The only facial features Valerie could make out were his intense, glowing green eyes, which were locked onto Technus.

“Phantom,” she breathed, tightly gripping her gun, and faint static echoed over his radio. She felt Tucker tense up and freeze beside her, and Sam . . . Sam’s face was pale, her body completely rigid as she clutched at her chest. The three of them needed to get out of here, but with Lancer unconscious and Sam apparently scared shitless, that wasn’t about to happen.

“Are you done, Technus?” a voice crackled over the old radio, echoing and full of static, and Valerie could barely make out the words. It sounded like an EVP Danny let her listen to once, from the early days of his parents’ research before ghosts became so commonplace in Amity Park that such scant evidence of ghosts hardly mattered anymore when the proof they existed was now so incredibly, horrifyingly obvious. “Or do I need to send you through another wall?”

“Phantom,” he hissed. “This isn’t over. I will rule–” 

But Technus never finished, his speech cut off as a brilliant beam of green light stretched out from the thermos and lazily sucked up the ghost. The ecto blast in Phantom’s other hand dissipated, the green energy smoking faintly around his glove, and suddenly the helmeted face turned towards the four of them.

“Are you okay?” Val stared at him coolly. Despite their current, uneasy truce, she still found herself itching to don her suit and draw her weapons. She wanted him gone, especially since Phantom caused all this damage when he sent Technus through that wall with his ecto blast. But Phantom was incredibly powerful and dangerous, and his motivations and obsession were unclear. She did not trust him, but he seemed at least invested enough in people thinking he was a good ghost that she didn’t think he would attack them.

“Not okay,” mumbled Tucker, wincing as he lifted a hand to show Phantom the bloody gauze on his leg. “Is the ghost gone?”

“One of them,” said Phantom. Was that a joke ? He seemed so serious most of the time, barely speaking to her or the ghosts he fought, that she literally didn’t think he was capable of humor. Carefully moving forward, Phantom leaned down and took a look at Mr. Lancer while Val watched, her eyes never leaving him. “He’s hurt pretty badly, I think.”

“And whose fault is that?!” snapped Valerie, unable to help herself, and Sam broke out of her terror-infused paralysis long enough to gape at her in horror. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I thought the school was fully evacuated. I should’ve been more careful,” the ghost said quietly, the words almost impossible to distinguish over the static. It caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to own up to the mistake or apologize. “We should get him medical attention.”

“Aren’t you . . . aren’t you not supposed to move people with injuries if they’re, um, not conscious in case they’ve got a bad injury that could get worse if you move them?” asked Tucker through gritted teeth. 

A crackle of static erupted like a curse, making Valerie flinch. “You’re right, we shouldn’t move him. Val, can you go get help? The Fentons and paramedics should be here soon.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone with them, especially when Sam’s totally freaking out and Tucker can’t walk,” she said. She definitely did not trust him that much.  “And don’t call me Val. You’re not my friend.”

“Sorry,” the ghost apologized again, and this time Valerie only glared at him. 

Ignoring them, Tucker looked over at Sam as he continued to apply pressure to the cut on his leg. “Sam?” She mumbled something softly as she shook her head and hid her face behind her hands and trembled. It shook her, seeing Sam this way. Manson was tougher than most of the kids here, despite almost getting killed in the first ghost attack. Valerie never thought Sam would have a panic attack, but maybe seeing Tucker and Mr. Lancer’s injuries tipped her over the edge.

Phantom knelt down in front of Manson on one knee, eyes level with hers. “Hi, Sam. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispered, tears building as she peeked out from behind her hands to look at Phantom. Tucker gripped his leg even tighter, his hands shaking, although whether from shock or nerves she couldn’t say. “I feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said as he placed a heavy, gloved hand on her knee, the static crackling softly as the dust floated in the air, and suddenly the sound of the ghost alarm stopped. The Fentons were probably on site along with emergency crews since they were the only ones that could silence the alarm, but the emergency lights still flickered and flashed in the dim hallway, making Phantom look even more monstrous than usual as the lights reflected in his face shield. “But I think you’re having a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?” 

Sam nodded as she let out a shaky, stuttering breath. “Twice. I don’t . . . I can’t . . . “

“Easy, Sam. I’ve been there. It’ll pass, although I know it feels horrible,” he continued, speaking to her slowly and calmly. “Valerie and I are going to try to get help. Do you want to stay here with Tucker and your teacher, or do you want to come with us?”

“I’m sorry, we’re what now?” said Valerie, not at all pleased to have been volunteered for some mission with Phantom without her consent.

“You don’t want to leave me alone with them, right?” He spoke to her, but his eyes never left Sam. “And I doubt you trust me to actually go and find help, so if I go with you, then you can keep an eye on me until we find them. Plus you know that there aren’t any more ghosts around because of that ghost tracker on your wrist, so Tucker and Lancer should be okay by themselves.”

“You have a ghost tracker?” Tucker said as he tried to angle so he could see it. Valerie crossed her arms tightly in front of her in a feeble effort to hide the expensive tracker Mr. Masters had given her. 

“So what?! My Daddy got it for me. With all the ghost attacks here, he didn’t want me to get hurt,” she lied, twisting her finger around one of her curls as she considered Phantom’s proposal. True to his word, Phantom’s signature was the only one currently registering on the device, which meant that while there could be other ghosts around, none of them were a likely threat. Valerie felt uneasy, though, as if she were being led into some kind of trap. 

“Are you coming with me or not?” asked Phantom. 

Valerie fumed. He would not allowed her to dwell, to consider everything in full before acting, but Mr. Lancer definitely needed help sooner rather than later, and if they led the paramedics to him, he’d stand a much better chance of living to terrorize them with 19th-century literature again. Working with Phantom always nauseated her, her instincts screaming at her to not trust a word the ghost said, but what other option did she have?. “Fine, we’ll go together.”

“Sam?” 

“I can’t – I can’t stay here.” Phantom offered her his hands and helped her shakily get to her feet. “But, um . . . distract me? That helped last time.”

“Sure,” the ghost agreed, casting one last look at Tucker. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

“I mean, I’m bleeding out here, but I definitely can’t walk with y’all and Lancer probably shouldn’t be alone,” Tucker said. “Just don’t take too long, okay?”

Phantom gave a thumbs-up as he turned, letting Sam continue to hold his hand as he slowly led her through the dim hallway. How she found comfort in holding the creepy, gloved hand of a ghost Valerie couldn’t understand, especially since it seemed like the ghosts were what caused her to have a panic attack in the first place, but there were very few things about Sam Manson that made sense to her. “So what were you doing here this late today? Some kind of club?”

“Detention,” Sam mumbled. 

“Really? What for?” Sam tried to answer but the words caught in her throat, her breaths coming out shakily as they started walking. 

“She freed the frogs that were supposed to be dissected by the senior anatomy class this week,” said Valerie. She didn’t want to help Phantom, but she did want to help Sam get through this even if they weren’t exactly on the best of terms. “Tucker helped. They both got caught and ended up in detention.”

“What about you?” 

“I skipped class too many times,” said Val, shrugging. Detention was a depressingly regular occurrence for her ever since she started hunting ghosts and working at the Nasty Burger to help support her family after her dad lost his high-paying job. Danny often joined her in detention for the same attendance issues, although she didn’t know why he missed class so much since it wasn’t like he had multiple jobs. She asked him once when they were dating, but he shrugged and changed the subject in a way that made it clear he wasn’t going to talk about it. “Not all of us can be noble champions of the voiceless.”

“Ugh, don’t describe it like that,” grumbled Sam, and Valerie noticed she was shaking less and her breathing was getting a little less erratic as they kept talking, but she still clutched at her chest with her free hand. “It was just the right thing to do.”

“You do that kind of stuff a lot?” 

“Sure. I . . . I even tried to organize a rally for ghost rights, back when . . . um . . . back before the ghost attacks got bad. My friend, Danny . . .  he was super invested in it, even though I wasn’t really sold on the whole ghosts not being vicious jerks thing after the Lunch Lady, but since he was my friend I wanted to help,” she said, blushing slightly, and Valerie pushed down a smirk. She always suspected Manson had a crush on Danny–Sam acted super jealous and weird when they were going out–but her sense of triumph over being right faded as she realized it no longer mattered. It wasn’t as if Manson was going to start dating Fenton any time soon, given their currently strained friendship.

“Sounds like you’re a good friend,” said Phantom. He sounded upset, though Val couldn’t say why. Remembering his own friends from when he was alive, maybe? She knew nothing about his life–no one did–but it stood to reason that someone had liked him, perhaps even loved him, before he became a ghost.

“Maybe. I don’t feel like one most of the time, not with how things have been with Danny lately,” Sam admitted. 

“I doubt that was your fault,” said Valerie, and Sam glanced at her, clearly surprised. “Danny’s had a falling out with everyone at this point. It’s kind of impressive that  you and Tucker have stuck it out so long.”

“Which makes me feel like I should be doing more to figure out what the hell is wrong with him,” said Sam as she finally released Phantom’s hand. “I just don’t get why he stopped trusting us.”

Phantom stopped suddenly, his green eyes gleaming in the dim halls, and Valerie felt herself tense. They weren’t quite to the other entrance yet, so what reason could he possibly have for stopping now? Her watch showed no ghosts besides Phantom nearby, but Phantom’s senses were frustratingly much better than her tech. “Phantom?” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I think I should probably go,” he said, the static crackling louder than usual over his radio as he spoke. “I don’t want to be seen by the Fentons.”

“Don’t you have a truce with them right now?” she said as Sam paused, staring uneasily between the two of them. She heard the Fentons talking about it, questioning whether it was the right call or not after a recent ghost attack. Why would he be scared to see them? “What are you planning, ghost?”

“To leave.”  The temperature dropped precipitously, sending goosebumps down her arms, and Sam shivered. It didn’t make sense, Val’s mind spinning as she tried to understand why he would abandon them now.

“Um . . . why don’t I go? I think I’m okay enough now, I can get help, and you two can stay here until you hear us coming this way, okay?” offered Sam weakly in a desperate bid to play peacemaker as the tension grew between them, but no way would she let Sam risk herself for this jerk. 

“That wasn’t the deal,” snapped Valerie. “What the hell is–”

“Hello?!” called someone suddenly, interrupting her, and her eyes turned automatically to look at the intruder. “Kids?!”

“Mrs. Fenton?” yelled Sam as Val looked back at Phantom, but only emptiness remained where he stood before.  Valerie gritted her teeth and forced herself to unclench her fist as she turned back towards Maddie.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re okay,” said Mrs. Fenton as she pushed her goggles up to the top of her head. “We detected a ghost this way, but I lost its signal just now. Did either of you see it?”

“It was Phantom,” said Valerie as Sam shot her a glare. Whatever. It was already too late - her watch showed Phantom’s signal had disappeared, too. She had no clue how he did it - none of the other ghosts could evade her tracker this way. Her best bet so far was that he could make portals into the ghost zone to quickly escape, but she’d never actually seen him do it.

“He captured the other ghost,” added Sam. “And he saved us.”

“Only after he hurt Mr. Lancer and Tucker,” added Valerie coolly, and then her eyes went wide and she almost slapped herself. She completely forgot about the two of them in light of Phantom’s suspicious behavior a minute ago. “Shit, Mrs. Fenton, can you call someone? They both need help, especially Mr. Lancer.”

“Language, hon, but yes, I can go take a look,” Maddie offered. “Why don’t you two get out and let the paramedics know where to find them? Are they both just down this hallway?”

“Yeah, by the exit near the gym,” said Sam, gesturing vaguely. 

“Thanks, dear,” said Maddie, and she reset her goggles and rushed down the corridor.

“Phantom must’ve heard her nearby,” said Sam after Maddie was gone and they began walking again. “That’s why he wanted to leave, Val. Just because they have a truce right now doesn’t mean Mrs. Fenton won’t break it.”

“How can you just put so much blind faith in Phantom?” she snapped. “We’re lucky the entire wall didn’t come down on us.”

“He apologized, didn’t he?” 

Valerie scowled, ignoring the fact that Sam did have a point, but why Sam would defend any ghost after the Lunch Lady incident made no sense to Valerie. “As if he meant it.”

Sam opened her mouth and then shut it, clearly thinking better about arguing with Valerie as she turned back down the hall. “We should get outside and talk to the paramedics. And we should see if Danny made it.”

At least that was something they could agree on. With Mr. Lancer knocked out, no one would even know to check for Danny besides his own parents, but they were busy at the moment. The two of them walked together in silence until they made it to the exit, and Valerie winced at the bright afternoon sun. Looking around she saw a half-dozen emergency vehicles along with students standing around in their assigned evacuation spots, and the football players were practicing passes in the far end of the empty parking lot. Their spot when they were in Lancer’s classroom was a bit of a walk since they were supposed to be coming out of the other entrance, so most likely Danny would be over there.

After Sam let the paramedics know about Tucker and Lancer, she and Val walked around the school, eventually spotting Danny laying down on a picnic table, his legs dangling over the edge. He was wearing his usual NASA hoodie despite the unseasonably warm day and his hands were tucked into his pockets. His eyes were closed and she could just make out the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

“Did he seriously sleep through that whole thing?” said Sam incredulously.

“Looks like he might have.” Walking over, Val gently tapped him on the shoulder, and Danny blinked slowly as he turned his head, covering his eyes with his hand to block the sun.

“Hey, Val. The ghost attack over?” 

“Yup. Phantom took care of it,” she said. “But I thought you’d want to know that Mr. Lancer and Tucker got hurt.”

Danny sat up quickly, his eyes snapping wide open as he looked between her and Sam, all traces of sleepiness gone. “How bad? Are they going to be okay?”

“Tucker should be fine, although he’ll probably need stitches,” said Val. “Mr. Lancer had a pretty serious head wound, though. I think he’ll be okay, but we don’t know anything for sure yet.”

“And you two?” he asked, his eyes darting to the scratches covering Val’s arms and hands alongside a handful of bruises on Sam.

“Just surface damage, we’ll be fine,” said Sam, shooting a look at Valerie, and Valerie gave her a small nod. She wouldn’t tell Danny about the panic attack. Nobody else needed to know.

Danny looked down, rubbing the faint scar on his palm with his thumb. “I’m so sorry you all got hurt like that. I should’ve–I mean–I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Valerie as she sat down on the table next to him, and she tried not to shiver as her bare arm brushed against his covered one. Even mere moments after he’d been laying in the sun with a dark hoodie on, Danny radiated a permanently icy aura that would give even a ghost a run for its money. Back when they were still dating, Danny’s parents explained that it was a side effect of his accident back in freshman year. High levels of ectoplasmic exposure combined with low-level, permanent contamination meant he lived in a constant state of mild hypothermia. 

Knowing this, Danny shifted over slightly, trying to give her a little more space as Sam sat down on the grass. They still had to wait to be officially dismissed, although with Mr. Lancer incapacitated and the regular school day already over, Val wasn’t entirely sure how that would work this time. Sighing, she tucked one of her knees under her chin, hugging her leg while they sat in silence together, and for the first time, she found herself wishing Tucker was with them since she knew he’d make some dumb joke that would make them forget about everything for a moment.

“I wish Tucker was here,” mumbled Sam as she fidgeted with her backpack zipper. 

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” said Val, smiling weakly at her and Danny, but he said nothing as he stared at the ground lost in thought. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. The fact that he spoke more than a sentence to her already was kind of a miracle these days.

The three of them sat in silence for about ten minutes until Principal Ishiiyama came over and let them know they were dismissed and that Lancer and Tucker were en route to the hospital. “It sounds like they’ll both be okay,” she said. “Danny, your parents will be here to come get you shortly. Do either of you need me to call someone?”

“I have to get to work, but it’s a short walk. I’ll be okay,” said Val.

“I already texted my parents,” said Sam as she stood up and grabbed her bag, “but thanks, Mrs. Ishiyama.”

“See you both tomorrow?” said Sam as Mrs. Ishiyama departed.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” said Val, but Danny merely gave a half wave with his fingers as Sam walked away. Once Sam was out of earshot, Val leaned over, bumping him gently on the shoulder with her own. “You okay there, space cadet?”

“Thought you had to work.”

“Nice deflection,” she teased, and she was glad to see a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth even as he wiggled another inch away from her and tucked his hands back into his pockets.

“You sound like my sister.”

“Yeah, well, we did spend a little time together once. I might’ve picked up a thing or two.” Her smile faded, then, as she leaned forward and tilted her head on her knee, her curls bouncing behind her as she peered up at him. “But seriously, Danny? You seem like you’re not doing so well these days.”

Danny shrugged. “I’m fine, Val. Just worried about Tucker.”

“If you say so,” she sighed as she lifted her head. How she hated those words from Danny, but once he dug in, there was nothing she could do. He had a stubborn streak as wide as her own, and standing up she stretched a bit. “I really do have to get to work, but . . . you know you can call me if you need anything, right? I know we’re not dating anymore, but you’re still my friend and I do care about you.”

“I know. And, um . . . right back at you.” He laid back down and let his arm rest over his face, blocking the sun as he tried to go back to sleep while waiting for his parents to come pick him up. She really, really wanted to do more to help him, but if he wasn’t even willing to admit that something was wrong, then there was nothing she could do.

Chapter Text

Jazz sat on her bed, staring at the half-finished student aid application. She managed to get scholarships that covered her tuition and other fees, but she was still a little short on the full funds she needed to go to Harvard next fall. For a brief moment, her eyes caught the packet from the local community college. They were the first to accept her application, and she hadn’t applied to it simply as a safety school, either, since a part of her worried that if she left Amity Park, then there would be no one left to look after Danny.

Since his accident in freshman year, everyone had tried and failed to figure out what happened to Danny. He started high school completely driven, ready to put his nose to the grindstone and achieve the grades he would need to go to a prestigious university for astrophysics, the first of a dozen steps towards his lifelong dream of being an astronaut. Their parents even promised to let him take flying lessons if he managed to get straight A’s freshman year and were thrilled at how committed he was. Nobody doubted Danny’s intelligence, even now, but then the accident happened.

Jazz knew Danny suffered lingering side effects from the accident. His memory seemed patchy for the first week or so after he came out of the coma, and although it eventually improved, other things didn’t. His temperature continued to hover on the verge of hypothermia, running around ninety-four to ninety-five degrees. Danny developed minor heart and lung problems after the accident, too, and both were just significant enough to mean that his dreams of being an astronaut were dashed to pieces. So when Danny seemed to stop caring about school and then his grades and attendance tanked, Jazz knew he must have fallen into a deep depression over the loss of his lifelong dream.

At her insistence, her parents forced him to attend therapy. They tried two different therapists with the same results: endless hours of Danny largely refusing to speak and a half-dozen missed appointments. Both therapists attempted countless strategies to get him to open up, even just a little bit, and one of them prescribed antidepressants. Jazz found Danny flushing them down the toilet, adamant he didn’t need the medication, that he was fine, and that he wished they would just leave him alone. He refused to go to therapy again, and their parents weren’t willing to push it further. He kept his friends at arms’ length, and although she and Danny didn’t share a lunch period, she occasionally passed by the cafeteria and saw him staring mournfully at his food, barely responding or engaging with his peers. Her brother simply continued to move through his life like a ghost, barely speaking to anyone or interacting with anything, and although he survived his accident, Jazz still couldn’t help but feel as if they lost her little brother for good that day.

She accepted, tentatively at least, that she could not help Danny if he refused her assistance, so she picked Harvard, her dream school, and was thrilled to attend their psychology program. Even if Danny didn’t have her, he still had a couple of friends in Sam and Tucker, however fragile that friendship might be these days. Her parents were clearly still trying to help him, too. He wouldn’t be completely alone.

Yet leaving him still felt wrong no matter how much she told herself she was making the right choice. As his older sister, Jazz spent most of her life advocating and fighting for her brother, but now it felt as if she was going to abandon him and the rest of her family when they needed her the most. Being a psychologist was her dream, but was it fair that she still got to keep hers after Danny lost his? It wasn’t his fault that things went so horribly wrong, and he shouldn’t be expected to mend everything by himself, but what else could she possibly do to help at this point?

“What am I supposed to do?” she groaned, rubbing her temples. She was a Fenton. A genius from a family of geniuses. Yet she could not see a way to fix whatever was wrong with Danny. She couldn’t even make a decision about what she wanted to do with her own life.

She should try to talk to Danny. Their parents weren’t home right now since they were meeting with the City Council and School Committee to discuss the ghostly defenses at the school after the recent, worsening attacks. In retrospect, it seemed like a miracle no one had been seriously injured in the ghost attacks before, but Mr. Lancer and Tucker’s injuries were a powerful reminder of how dangerous the ghosts could be. Originally she meant to go with her parents to provide a student’s perspective on the ghost attacks since Sam, Tucker, and Valerie declined the invitation to attend after their close call with Technus, but at the last minute, her parents told her they decided to only do an initial consultation and would solicit student and parent feedback after discussing initial strategies with the City Council and School Committee.

So if there was ever a more perfect moment . . . 

Jazz took a long, steadying breath, adjusting her headband as she forced herself to her feet. Walking quietly down the hall, she raised a fist to knock on Danny’s door when she heard someone downstairs. The sound coming from her brother was one that she didn’t think he could even make anymore. Danny was laughing.  

Frowning, Jazz quietly headed down the stairs to the living room, increasingly aware of the voices coming from the kitchen. Danny’s voice she recognized, of course, but the other one she didn’t know and there was an odd echo to it, almost like a ghost. But it couldn’t be. Danny didn’t necessarily think they were as dangerous as his parents made them out to be, but the countless ghost attacks they both suffered from at school had to give him a proper fear of them, especially after Tucker’s injury.

Didn’t it?

Creeping down the stairs, she stayed close to the wall, trying to remain out of sight as she spied on Danny in the kitchen. Her brother was baking something with a woman in a pink dress and white apron. She could be someone’s grandmother if her skin wasn’t green and glowing faintly. Part of Jazz thought she should activate the ghost defense system - there was a panic button for it in every room and it could be voice-activated now - but her hand remained still and her mouth remained closed. She knew so little about anything happening with her brother. Right now the ghost was behaving peacefully, or so it seemed, and if she activated the alarm that could shift in an instant and put Danny at risk. So instead she bit her lip, crouching down low and tucking herself into a small corner as she spied on the two of them from the living room.

“My Dad would be pretty excited if I became a baker, although he’d probably just insist I make fudge all the time,” said Danny, and Jazz smiled. Her Dad’s obsession with fudge was legendary. He loved it so much that her parents had a layer of the decadent treat made into the top tier of their wedding cake.

“I think you have the potential to make an excellent baker, and–oh, be a bit more careful with that food coloring, dearie. It’ll darken as it dries,” she said, pulling Danny’s hand back a bit, and Jazz saw him nod. “Are you alright, child? You seem quite distracted today.”

“Yeah, just thinking about what I am going to do after high school, that’s all,” he sighed. “I wanted to be an astronaut, but there’s no way that’ll happen now.” 

“You still have time to figure it out,” she said gently, patting him on the arm as she peered through the oven door to check on something. Cookies, maybe, given the icing it looked like Danny was mixing. “And you’re a sweet boy. If you do decide to become a baker, I’ll teach you more of my secret recipes.”

“Thanks.” Danny turned and smiled at her as Jazz ducked. For a brief moment, she was sure that Danny saw her peeking around the corner, but when he spoke up again he didn’t call out to her. “I think these are done. Do you?”

“They look that way to me. We’ll have to let them cool for a bit before you can decorate.” Jazz tucked her arms and knees close to her chest, hoping her brother wouldn’t notice the movement. She should be hidden, but Danny was supernaturally observant these days. “Your parents must be so proud of you. Such a thoughtful child.”

“Not really,” he said, and Jazz’s heart broke at the way his voice shook. She wanted to argue. She wanted to rush and tell him that he was wrong, that their parents were proud of him and that they loved him, but while she was certain of the latter, she was less confident in the former than she would have been once. The word ‘disappointment’ had been uttered in more than one conversation with respect to Danny, and while it came from the same place of concern as Jazz’s own fears about him, she hadn’t realized how negatively that must have impacted Danny to believe that his own family thought he was a failure. She would talk to her parents about it. They would all need to be more careful. Some things should not be spoken out loud. “But it’s okay. Thanks for helping me with the cookies. I don’t think I would’ve done this right on my own.”

“Anytime, dearie,” she said sweetly. “Do you think you’ll need my help to decorate?”

“Nah, I think I can handle that part if you want to get going.” She nodded, and Jazz looked around the corner just in time to see the ghost give him a quick hug before she vanished. Her brother returned to the counter, checking on the icing as she quietly stood up, and she was preparing herself to pretend as if she only just arrived downstairs when her brother spoke. “I know you’re there, Jazz. You’re not half as sneaky as you think you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, stepping into the kitchen, and her brother kept his back to her as he started getting the icing into bags. “I didn’t want to spook her.”

“Haha.” Jazz blinked, realizing the pun she made only after her brother’s mock laughter. “I must be rubbing off on you. And aren’t you supposed to be out with Mom and Dad at the school committee talk tonight?”

“They decided they didn’t want to hear student perspectives yet,” she said as she walked over to see what he made, and she sighed. “Ghost cookies? Seriously?”

“It’s Dad’s birthday tomorrow,” he said, shrugging, and Jazz was surprised he remembered. Clearly, her reaction showed, too, since he scowled. “Even a failure like me can manage to do something for him.”

“I never said you were a failure, Danny,” said Jazz as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he shook her off. “I really didn’t want to spy on you. I just, um . . . I wanted to talk.”

Danny frowned, studying her before putting down the baking supplies and crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned gently against the counter, careful to avoid touching the bowl of icing or the cookies that were cooling. “Let me guess. Mom and Dad told you that I’m going to be evaluated again?”

“What?”

“For an IEP,” he said as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Lancer thinks I’m depressed and that my health’s been interfering more with my performance at school than everyone originally thought since I keep falling asleep in most of my classes and stuff. Mom and Dad agree. And unless something drastic changes, I’m apparently not doing well enough in school to move to my junior year  with everyone else. Although I don’t know what’s going to happen with the evaluation now that Lancer’s out for who knows how long after that ghost attack this week.”

“Oh, Danny, I’m so sorry,” she said. “We can do more with your assignments–”

“It’s the in-class work I’m missing that’s the problem,” he said with a shrug. “The assignments are getting better, but I’m still missing too many classes and doing too poorly on quizzes and labs and stuff for it to matter.”

Jazz had a dozen questions she wanted to ask, not the least of which was what she just walked in on or why Danny kept on missing classes even though he obviously cared at least a little bit about school, but one thing he said nagged at her too much to ignore. “Do you think they’re right? About you being, um, y’know? Depressed?”

She expected him to roll his eyes and brush her off, to grumble about her trying to psychoanalyze him, but his shoulders drooped a bit as he bit his lower lip. “Yeah. They’re probably right. I don’t think it matters, though. It’s not that bad, and besides, I won’t take meds for it and I won’t go see another therapist. Not after the Spectra thing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with medication, and most therapists aren’t ghosts trying to eat your emotional energy. Besides, she was a guidance counselor, not a therapist. It’s not exactly the same thing.” Jazz sat down at the table, letting her hands rest in her lap in a desperate bid to appear non-threatening. Non-judgemental. Sometimes she felt like reading that book on how to read body language made her overthink her own. 

“I know. Doesn’t change anything for me,” he insisted stubbornly as he grabbed a mug of what looked suspiciously like coffee. Caffeine was off-limits for him per his cardiologist, but as usual, Danny didn’t care. And Jazz didn’t have the heart to prod him about it right now. Her poor brother looked even more exhausted than usual. 

“But you’ll at least do the evaluation?”

“If it means that there’s a chance I get to move up to my junior year and not get shipped off to some creepy boarding school next door to dear Uncle Vlad’s or something? Obviously.” Danny sat down, and she could feel the cold radiating off him from across the table as silence fell between them. She knew Danny hated Vlad, and while Jazz wasn’t a huge fan either, she couldn’t quite understand the intensity of Danny’s own anger. He would never explain it to her or her parents, just muttering about how he found him creepy when asked.

“So . . . ghostly baking lessons?” Changing the subject. Not exactly what she wanted, despite being curious about what happened between Danny and the Lunch Lady, but she could tell from how Danny was leaning back from her, hands twisting around in his pockets, that there was no way he would talk more to her about his depression. And maybe that was for the best. She shouldn’t be his therapist. That wasn’t what he wanted or needed from her, and she spent too much time ignoring that and trying to take on a role that could never belong to her.

“I’m trying to get her to channel her obsession into something that’s not destructive,” he explained as he took a sip, and she could smell it now. It was definitely coffee, and as she wrinkled her nose she saw her brother watching her closely, his eyes twinkling as if daring her to comment. “She’s obsessed with tradition, specifically food-related traditions. Baking and passing that knowledge on manages to satisfy it enough that she’s content and probably won’t go on a rampage over a change to the cafeteria menu. Not that they’ll change the menu ever again after last time.”

Jazz sat up a bit, surprised both by her brother’s insights and how forthcoming he was being for once. “Are you . . . are you doing this with other ghosts, too?”

“For some of them, yeah, but there’s a lot of them that are too dangerous,” admitted Danny. His finger traced the rim of the cup slowly. “Are you going to lecture me?”

“Have you told Mom and Dad what you’re up to? I bet they’d be thrilled that you’re showing an interest in ghosts,” she said. She could deflect, too, and he gave her a half-smile that showed he picked up on it. She would never promise not to lecture him, especially not about something so dangerous.

“Nope. I tried once or twice to talk to them about it a little, but they’re still all shoot first, ask questions never,” he muttered. “They don’t want to hear anything that goes against their theories.”

“They’ve been getting better about it. I’ve started to hear them questioning some of their beliefs about the ghosts, and they even have a truce with Phantom right now,” said Jazz, and Danny tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at her, clearly skeptical. 

“Their truce is like a week old, Jazz,” he said as he took another sip. “Hardly proof of some dramatic shift in their beliefs.”

“It can be hard to admit when you’re wrong,” she said. “Especially when it’s your life’s work, and . . . look, I’ll admit that I’m not convinced you’re right, but after watching you for a few minutes, I’m not convinced that you’re wrong , either. I can’t remember the last time the Lunch Lady attacked the school.” She shifted slightly in her chair, crossing one of her legs over the other, which she realized was a defensive posture. Not her intent. Hopefully, Danny wouldn’t pick up on it. “But are you sure it’s safe?”

“The ghosts seem to like me,” he said eventually. “I don’t know why. The first time the Lunch Lady attacked, I found her beforehand. We talked for a few minutes. She never tried to hurt me, not until I tried to stop her from injuring Sam. And a lot of the others are the same. They’re–well, Dad and Mom aren’t completely wrong. They do have obsessions, but that doesn’t mean that they’re mindless or even so consumed by them that they can’t do anything else or ignore it when they really want to. And all of the ghosts I’ve met can learn and grow when given the chance. Maybe Mom and Dad are wrong just because the ghosts here are stronger or aren’t like the ones they found in haunted houses or whatever from back before the portal opened. I don’t know. But most of them aren’t looking for trouble. And even when they hurt people, it’s not–they don’t think about it the same way people do, I guess.”

“Meaning?”

“They’re dead , Jazz,” Danny explained as if it ought to be obvious. “They can’t be hurt the way people can, and they don’t always remember or, well, really understand how easily people can be hurt, either. I’m not even sure they view death as that big a deal. Sometimes, the way they talk about it, it just . . . it doesn’t seem that bad.”

A dozen alarm bells rang in her head as she listened to him. The way he said it, as if he longed for death, for something that the ghosts he spent time with perceived as not being all that terrible made Jazz realize that Danny’s depression was much more severe than they thought. And she wasn’t convinced that being around ghosts the way he was now was helping him, even if he was right that by doing so he was not only helping the ghosts but everyone else, too. “Danny, you know that you can talk to me about anything, right, and that suicide isn’t–”

“--I’m not going to kill myself.” She shivered as the temperature around them dropped. The portal always caused weird cold spots all over the house, and she rubbed her arms rapidly, trying to dispel the goose bumps that erupted. Danny, as usual, seemed unphased by it, but she guessed he noticed the shifts less since he was cold all the time now. “I almost died in my accident, Jazz. I know it’s not the answer. And a ghostly version of me wouldn’t be me. That much Mom and Dad are right about.” She frowned at him as he took a sip of coffee and, seeing her expression, he rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Jazz. I’ll pinky promise you and everything if that’ll make you feel better before you run off to Harvard.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, Danny,” she said, reaching out a hand and gently touching his arm, forcing herself to suppress a shiver. His doctors claimed his hypothermia wasn’t getting worse, but Jazz swore he was by far colder to the touch now than he was after his accident. A not so tiny part of her thrilled at the thought of having a room that didn’t feel like a freezer the way nearly every room in the house did now once she finally went to college. “And I’m always here for you. Even when I’m several hundred miles away. You know if you need anything you can reach out and I’ll be here in a heartbeat, right?”

“I know, Jazz.” Standing up, he brushed her hand aside as he slowly put the icing into a piping bag, and she watched him in silence for a few minutes as he carefully iced each of the cookies. Her mind was still reeling from the revelation that he was actively meeting with and trying to form relationships with ghosts. 

“Are you . . . is this why you miss so many of your classes?” asked Jazz, trying to be careful, and she saw his hands pause for a moment before resuming. “Because you’re trying to talk to the ghosts?”

“It’s part of it.” He cursed softly as an air bubble caused the icing to pop softly. Twisting the piping bag, he adjusted his position before continuing to frost the cookies. “I know that you don’t agree, but I feel kind of responsible for all the ghosts since I’m the idiot that managed to get the portal working.”

“Mom and Dad are the ones that built it.” They had this argument a few times after his accident. “And that left the lab easily accessible to a curious fourteen year old that just wanted to try and make his parents feel better. It’s really not your fault, Danny.”

“Maybe not completely, but some of the blame is definitely on me. And like I said, talking to the ghosts is working. Mom and Dad would never even think to try it. They’ll just keep attacking and repeating the cycle of violence.”

Except that wasn’t entirely true, of course - their parents were slowly reconsidering their position, even if their thinking was still miles away from Danny’s own beliefs. Not that Danny would know it. She didn’t think he talked much to their parents anymore, let alone have long discussions about ghosts. Realistically, though, Jazz suspected the truth lay somewhere in between, with her parents' research being too abstract for so long to know the truth and with Danny being too intensely involved in what he was doing now to see the dangers that did exist. “So you think all of the ghosts would be friendly if not for Mom and Dad attacking them?”

“Of course not,” he said. “There’s a place for what they and Phantom and the Red Huntress all do. But there’s room for what I’m doing, too. And I’d rather be doing something than just waiting for me or someone else to get hurt like Tucker and Lancer a few days ago. I can’t–” He broke off suddenly, shaking his head and wincing, and putting the piping bag down he grabbed at his chest.

Jazz jerked up in her chair. She found herself constantly overreacting to every little injury, every complaint Danny had now, worried that some side effect the doctors missed might finally be rearing its ugly head. She still had nightmares about him in the hospital bed after his accident, dozens of tubes and wires attached to his body as he remained comatose. She tried to temper it, though, pushing down the worst of her anxieties as she asked, “Danny, are you okay? Is your heart–does it hurt? Should we call Mom and Dad?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just a weird muscle cramp or something.”

“Do you want me to get some ibuprofen or something?” she asked. He was lying. She knew he was lying. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just some cramp or something, but Danny would never tell her the truth. What were the signs of a heart attack? Chest pain, left arm pain . . . something? Darn it. She didn’t know. She should know, even if it seemed unlikely that Danny could have one.

His expression relaxed after a moment, his hand leaving his chest as he turned back to finish the cookies, and she felt a bit of relief that whatever it was, the worst of it seemed to have passed. “That’d be great, Jazz.” Giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, Jazz left the kitchen and went upstairs to the bathroom to find a bottle as she googled symptoms for heart attacks on her phone. It seemed unlikely, but she would keep an eye on him, make sure he was okay, and then let their parents know when they got home. She was only gone for about five minutes, tops, but when she got back downstairs the cookies were done, the green icing seeming to almost glow as they dried on the counter.

And Danny, of course, had vanished, whatever brief mood that made him willing to open up to her clearly gone as well. 

She resisted the urge to kick something as she put the medicine away and headed back to her room, suspecting her little brother might have manipulated her to get her to stop poking her nose in his business. Glancing again at the Amity Park Community College brochure, this time she found herself picking it up and thumbing through it. They had a good psychology program. They offered her a full scholarship already, and if she lived at home she wouldn’t need to worry about extra loans for housing or other costs. She could always go to Harvard for her doctorate.

An idea began to churn, then. She wanted to be a psychologist. Always had. But helping her brother mattered, too, and she couldn’t leave him, not right now when his depression was so bad and not when he was doing something so dangerous with the ghosts. Should she tell their parents about what Danny was up to, though? She scowled, staring at the pamphlet, but decided against it for now. Danny would be upset if he thought she broke his trust and went to them when he obviously didn’t want them to know. And clearly he expected to be alone tonight, or he never would have invited the Lunch Lady into their home. It was sheer luck she learned the truth about what he was up to, or at least part of the truth, since she felt an uneasy swirling in her gut that suggested she only just scratched the surface of Danny’s issues.

But the only way she could help Danny would be if she could learn to understand the ghosts, too. Amity Park’s college had an ecto science degree program now that, while still in its infancy, was proving to be a serious course of study. Maybe she could double major and do an undergraduate thesis on ecto psychology. She would have to find a willing advisor, but if it worked . . . It would give her more standing to push back on her parents’ beliefs if she could support her arguments with science and logic. It would give her a chance to carve out a new niche in the field of psychology. And it might prove that maybe Danny was right, or at least, give her a way to meaningfully test whether he was doing something incredibly brave and genuinely helpful, or something incredibly stupid that would only put him in danger.

It was the kind of path she was searching for, and the more she considered it, the more she knew it was what she wanted to do. Mentally, she prepared herself to tell her parents about her decision while sending a quick text to Danny to make sure he was okay. They would be disappointed about her not going to Harvard, but thrilled at the prospect of Jazz studying ecto science and following in their footsteps. For now, though, hopefully she could avoid letting them know too much about what caused her change of heart.

Chapter Text

Much as he hated the nickname, there was no denying that Bad Luck Tuck felt like it fit him a little too well lately.

Not only did he get stuck going to the hospital after last week’s ghost attack, but he also got nineteen stitches in his leg (Nineteen!), the doctors denied his request to give him any painkillers stronger than a Tylenol for it, and his parents refused to let him stay home from school again since they didn’t want him falling behind. Never mind that he was in the top ten percent of his class or that he was better with tech than every computer science teacher and IT professional at Casper High. 

Tucker watched as his classmates filtered into the room, his crutches leaning against the wall and his injured leg propped up on the chair in front of him. Normally it would be his English period with Mr. Lancer, but his injuries were bad enough that he would be out for at least another week, so today they had a substitute he didn’t recognize. The assignment was scribbled on the board, and she was sitting behind the desk with her feet up as she scrolled through her phone, only occasionally glancing up at the incoming students. Lancer would be furious if he saw her, which meant she would probably be a pretty chill substitute.

Tucker smiled at Sam as she sat down beside him. “What did Val want after lunch?” Val pulled her aside on their way out, but since Tucker and Sam didn’t share a class after lunch, he didn’t get the chance to learn what she wanted. It wasn’t as if Val and Sam were friends.

“She wanted to know if I’m doing okay after the ghost attack because of, my, um, y’know.” Sam waved a hand loosely around as she scowled, not willing to admit she had a panic attack when there were too many of their classmates within hearing range. “I wish she hadn’t seen that.”

“Did you tell your parents about it?” Sam rolled her eyes at him as she pulled out her textbook. “Right. I guess I should’ve known. How about your grandma?”

“Nope. I don’t want her to worry, so I told her the ghost attacks aren’t a big deal at school thanks to all the Fenton tech they’ve installed,” said Sam, and then she frowned. “Speak of the devil.”

Looking at the door, Tucker saw Danny fidget uncomfortably as he took the seat behind Sam with only a quick nod at the two of them as the bell rang and signaled the start of the period. Despite knowing about Tucker’s injury, Danny hadn’t reached out all weekend, and while Tucker wasn’t exactly surprised, he wasn’t really thrilled with his best friend, either. Danny skipped most of their other classes today and missed lunch, too, which meant this was the first time Tucker saw Danny since detention last week. He bit his lip, wondering if he ought to say something to Danny about it, when the sub sat up and swung her feet off the desk.

“Hi, all. I’m Ms. Jones. I gotta take attendance real quick, okay?” she said as she pulled out the roster. “And then you guys can just work on the assignment I wrote on the board.”

“Can we do it in pairs?” asked Paulina.

“He didn’t say you couldn’t, so sure,” said Ms. Jones with a shrug. “If you finish it early, feel free to work on your homework from some other class or talk quietly amongst yourselves, okay?”

Tucker pulled out his own textbook and flipped to the page on the board. They were supposed to read a poem by Tennyson called Mariana and then write a short essay analyzing the use of imagery and its themes. Sam looked positively delighted, but Tucker felt anything but joy. He hated poetry, or at least, any poetry that wouldn’t help him impress a girl.

“Hey, Sam? Think you can help me with this?” he whispered to her while his classmates read it over, the silence only broken by the sub calling out names from the attendance list, and she nodded. Shooting a glance back at Danny, Tucker saw him looking similarly frustrated by the assignment as he slowly read through the poem while wincing and pinching his forehead, but if Danny wanted help, well, then he could ask for it himself. 

Pulling his textbook out, he quickly read through it a few times. “Jeez, this is kind of dark, huh?” he asked Sam as she flipped to a clean page in her notebook.

“Yup, nothing like assigning a poem to a bunch of teenagers about isolation, depression, and suicidal thoughts. I’m sure that won’t have any negative impacts,” she said sarcastically, and he noticed Danny listening in as he pretended to read it again and take notes. 

Sam and Tucker worked through the assignment, with Sam explaining the progression and how all of the auditory descriptions emphasized the narrator’s loneliness and grief. Tucker only listened long enough to write up a half-decent short essay on it, but Sam was still writing once he was done, happy to go on and on about the rare subject she actually enjoyed.

As he considered whether or not he ought to work on his math homework, he glanced at Danny once more, wondering if this was finally the death knell of their lifelong friendship. Danny and Sam and Tucker had gotten into more than a few fights, especially in the last six months, but Tucker continually told himself that even if Danny was distant, even if he was absent-minded and depressed, he still cared about Tucker and Sam. Yet here they were with him injured badly enough to go to the hospital just days ago, and Danny unable to take a minute to send even a quick text to ask how he was doing.

Sam would understand regardless - she was already feeling pretty done with Danny, believing that there was little they could do about their dying friendship if Danny refused to fight for it, too. But Tucker . . . he wished he could stop caring about Danny the way Danny seemed to stop caring about him. It wasn’t fair, but for some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to completely give up. Not yet. “Do you need any help?” Tucker sighed eventually as he looked over at him. He noticed Sam raise an eyebrow, clearly surprised since Tucker spent most of today’s lunch complaining about Danny, but Tucker couldn’t help it. Their friendship had to mean something to Danny still. 

Didn’t it?

Danny looked up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shook his head. “I, um . . . I kind of already eavesdropped on what Sam explained to you, so I think I got it,” he mumbled as he finished writing his sentence and flipped his paper over. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” said Tucker as Sam rolled her eyes and turned back to her own essay. 

“How’s the leg?” Danny asked as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets.

‘Oh, so you care now?’ thought Tucker, but he pushed it down. At least he finally asked, even if it came a bit late. 

“I had to go to the hospital and get stitches. It was the worst, dude,” he chuckled. “But they think I’ll be able to manage without the crutches by the end of this week and that it should be mostly healed within a month or so.”

Danny let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he pressed his thumb into his palm. “Good. I was worried it might be a lot worse. I–um, my mom said there was a lot of blood. She thought you cut a major artery or something.”

“Nope, I got lucky there. But, um, y’know . . . ” He trailed off, biting his lip, but he could feel Danny’s eyes locked onto him.

“Know what?” pushed Danny when Tucket didn’t continue. Fine, if he wanted to force this, then Tucker wouldn’t stop himself.

“Why didn’t you check in with me all weekend?” he snapped, nearly breaking his pencil in two as he glared at Danny. He was angry. Maybe it was time Danny finally knew that, too. Maybe shielding Danny from the consequences of his actions and pretending like everything Danny did was fine was only making things worse, not better. 

Danny opened his mouth and closed it, thinking for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably while Sam turned around in her seat and watched. He opened his mouth again when suddenly an intense shiver ran through him and he covered his mouth to cough.

Tucker wanted to scream, but he forced it down as Danny turned away and his hand shot up, no doubt grateful for the excuse to drop their conversation. He held it uselessly in the air, the sub too busy to notice while she scrolled through an app on her phone.

“So you’re just going to run away instead of answering Tucker’s question?” hissed Sam, but Danny refused to look at her, too, his eyes on the substitute. 

After about a minute of being ignored and failing to see the irony in it, Danny gritted his teeth and got up, shoulders tense as he walked to her desk. “Hey, um, can I be excused? I need to use the bathroom.”

“You still have to ask permission for that?” said the sub as she glanced up from her phone, and she waved a hand at him. “Uh, yeah, sure kid. Do whatever. Just be quick I guess.”

Tucker watched him go, his heart beating faster while Sam turned back to her desk and quickly wrapped up her essay as her left foot began to bounce. Whether it was residual anger about Danny refusing to talk to him or fear about what was going to come next, Tucker didn’t know. Nobody knew how Danny predicted the ghost attacks, but whenever he asked to urgently leave to use the bathroom or go to the nurse, a ghost was nearly guaranteed to show up somewhere. Most figured he had some kind of fancy tech from his parents that let him know first, but Tucker thought it might be a bizarre side effect of his accident freshman year since he noticed that Danny always shivered and coughed just before he asked to be excused. It seemed weird, but it was not even close to the strangest thing about living in Amity Park these days.

“Which ghost do you think it is this time?” Sam wondered as she finished up the last bit of her essay.

“Hopefully one that doesn’t have an obsession with harassing people on crutches,” joked Tucker, rolling with the change in subject. He spent enough time venting about Danny to Sam already. “C’mon, ghost alarm, go off already.”

Even knowing about Danny’s uncanny knack for predicting ghost attacks, the teachers in the school would not let them evacuate until the ghost triggered the Fenton’s alarm system since some of the ghosts that appeared weren’t hostile and then there were more than a few times when nothing happened, too. Danny’s weird thing was just unreliable enough to make their teachers hesitate, but maybe that would change after last week. He hoped so. Tucker silently ticked away the precious seconds, staring at the clock over the teacher’s desk, but the minutes passed and the ghost alarm remained stubbornly silent. Maybe it was a real bathroom break or maybe the ghost decided not to stick around this time. 

Or maybe it was a lame excuse to avoid answering him.

Eventually, he and Sam let themselves relax and talk about Doomed for a bit and the new expansion pack, and both of them carefully avoided bringing up Danny. Sam managed to get early access codes, so she wanted to try it out this weekend with him. She promised she hadn’t played in the new areas yet, but Tucker doubted it, knowing that she would love to have an advantage over him and pretend like she was just naturally way better. As if it mattered - if anything, he respected her for her awesome skills even more if they were hard-won over many hours of gameplay instead of the result of some semi-miraculous inborn talent for Doomed.

The bell rang and Tucker grabbed his stuff. Glancing at Danny’s desk, he realized that although the ghost alarm never went off, Danny never came back, either. That wasn’t unusual, but it was the last period and he doubted the sub would stick around long enough for Danny to grab his things before locking up the classroom for the day. “Hey, Sam, can you grab Danny’s bag and stuff? I would, but, y’know. Crutches.”

Sam glared at the pile of things left behind with more disdain than her mother had when she learned Sam was hanging out with middle-class kids at school. “You seriously want to help him after he couldn’t even be bothered to make sure you were okay until he literally bumped into you in class? After he then decided to pretend there was a ghost attack or whatever to avoid even talking about it?”

“Fine, forget it,” said Tucker, hobbling over and shoving Danny’s notebooks into his book bag, and although she had a point Tucker found himself steadfastly ignoring it. Picking up Danny’s essay and putting it with his, he held the two papers out to Sam. He did not want to argue with the only real friend he seemed to have left at this point. “Can you at least hand in all of our poetry assignments?”

“Yeah, and . . . ugh, I’ll help with his other stuff too, okay?” she said as she took the essays. Running up to the desk, she quickly dropped the papers off and then came back to help. Tucker sent a quick text to Danny to let him know they had his stuff, and then he and Sam headed outside to sit on one of the benches while they waited for Tucker’s Dad to come pick them up. Normally they would walk to his house, but his leg remained too injured for even the short trip.

“Why do we keep doing this?” sighed Sam as she glanced at Danny’s pile of stuff, the breeze blowing back a couple of strands of dyed purple hair.

“Because he’s our friend?” 

“Is he?” Sam crossed her legs on the bench and leaned forward, head in hands. “Look, Tuck, I don’t . . . I just don’t know what to do anymore. We keep trying and trying and trying, telling ourselves that it’s for the best because we can’t just abandon him, not when something is obviously wrong and he’s clearly depressed or whatever, but it’s been almost two years, and if anything, he’s getting worse. He also doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it and nothing we try to do seems to matter.”

“I know, but–”

“--but what, Tuck? When do we stop? When do we give this up? Danny clearly has.” A small cough behind them made them both flinch, and turning Tucker saw Danny standing there, hands in his pockets. He wanted to see him look angry, upset, or something since Tucker knew he probably overheard some of their conversation, but instead Danny just had the same resigned expression he always wore now.

“You have my stuff?” he said after a moment, and Tucker nodded meekly while Sam scowled at him. Reaching over, Tucker grabbed Danny’s bookbag and notebook and handed it to him. “Thanks.”

“Are you going to answer Tucker’s question from earlier? Or will there conveniently be another ghost around so you can avoid it again?” asked Sam, her nails clicking a steady rhythm against the back of the bench, and Danny’s hand clenched the strap of his backpack a little tighter.

“It wasn’t–there’s no ghost and–Look, I just had to go to the bathroom,” he lied, kicking a loose stone with his toe and refusing to look at either of them.

“For an hour, dude?” said Tucker. How stupid did Danny think they were?

“I wasn’t feeling–”

“--we’ve followed you before, you know that?” interrupted Sam, and for the first time Danny looked uneasy, his face paler than usual. “On your bathroom trips ages ago when this whole thing first started. And you’re never in the bathroom. Ever. We’ve never managed to keep up with you well enough to see where you do go–it’s like you disappear or something–but it’s not the bathroom.”

“Super cool violation of my privacy there, Sam. Seems like you're more like your Mom than you thought,” he snapped and then he looked away, his eyes shut tightly as if he couldn’t bear to see her reaction while he hissed something under his breath.

“Ohhh, that’s low, Danny,” she said. “Even for you. And you’re avoiding the subject. Again. You still haven’t even answered the original question Tucker asked you an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Tucker repeated, watching his friend closely. “You talked to your parents about me. Your mom thought I was hurt even worse than I was and I was out of school for a couple of days, too. Sam says she didn’t talk to you then and even if she had, I mean . . . You know how much I hate fucking hospitals. And you couldn’t even text to make sure I was fine?”

“It was my Dad’s birthday yesterday. I was distracted, I guess,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck and still refused to look at him.

“Dude, seriously? It’s been days. Almost a whole week, even.”

Danny fell silent, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he glanced at Tucker, but then his gaze dropped as he pulled his hands out of his pockets. He stared at the scar on his palm from his accident freshman year while he rubbed it with his thumb, considering before he finally walked over and sat down next to Tucker, who shivered as Danny’s arm brushed against him.  

His voice was quiet when he spoke, almost to the point where Tucker couldn’t hear him, and he was still staring and rubbing the scar on his palm with his thumb. Tucker recognized it as a sort of nervous gesture. He constantly wondered how Danny managed to get such a perfect, round scar from his accident but otherwise didn’t appear to have a single lasting mark on him from that day. Danny always refused to say. “I was scared.”

“So was I, but I still managed to check-in.”

“Not helpful, Sam,” hissed Tucker, but Danny seemed unphased by her snark. 

“No, she’s right. I should’ve reached out. I’m sorry, Tucker. I was just too in my own head about it, I guess. Thinking about hospitals makes me think about my own accident, and it’s kind of hard for me to deal with it,” said Danny. “I haven’t been in a good place for the last few days because of it, but that’s a stupid reason to not at least make sure you were okay.”

“You wanna talk about it?” offered Sam as she leaned forward to talk, her voice surprisingly gentle considering how angry Tucker knew she was, too. “We didn’t get to see you after your accident until you were out of the hospital for over a week already, and we never really heard exactly what happened aside from some kind of malfunction with your parents’ lab equipment.”

The afternoon suddenly seemed darker, the chill in the air more pronounced, and for a moment Tucker swore he saw what looked like a gaping mouth filled with emerald fire behind Danny. The hair on his arms stood on end, and there was a buzz in the air, almost as if he were standing beneath high voltage wires, and he could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest.  “The ghost portal my parents made, it didn’t work. I thought I could fix it, for some reason, so I went inside. I tripped,” he said as his eyes shimmered with an impossible, green glow that made Tucker gape, but Danny seemed oblivious as he continued, his eyes locked on the scar on his palm.. “My hand hit a button on the wall that turned it on, and I–I was electrocuted. It hurt like–I just–I thought–” 

If Danny said anything after that, Tucker didn’t hear it as a feeling of intense pain washed over him, and in a blink both he and Sam had fallen off the bench onto the ground, collapsing from the agonizing pain running through their veins as their bodies seemed to freeze and they could no longer move or speak. Closing his eyes, Tucker had to bite back the sudden, intense urge to vomit, and he wanted to curse and scream when suddenly the earth seemed to right itself again. The chill in the air was gone, the weird electrical twinge vanished, and the only pain remaining was the now familiar ache in his leg from his injury last week.

For one, brief moment he saw Danny standing over them, hands over his mouth in horror as he trembled, and then without another word he ran before they could stop him.

“What the actual fuck was that?” wheezed Sam, gripping her chest as she cursed, and he could see tears stinging her eyes as she struggled back onto her feet. Holding out a shaky arm, Sam helped Tucker back into the bench as his leg burned.  

“I don’t know. You saw–you felt it, too? The portal and stuff?” He needed to know he wasn’t crazy, and Sam nodded as she caught her breath. “That was–that was a ghost thing, right?”

“Obviously,” she whispered as she trembled. “”But Danny’s not a ghost.”

“He could be pretending. Like Spectra did, remember?” The guidance counselor still gave him and most of the student body nightmares. 

“Hasn’t he been to like a hundred doctors appointments? His parents have talked about it, too, so it’s not as if he’s lied about it. I don’t think anyone could hide being a ghost from actual medical professionals,” she said as she rubbed her arms in a desperate effort to shake off the strange chill that still seemed to hang over them even though Danny was now gone.

“That’s true.” He paused, considering for a moment, when inspiration struck. “But you know, in all these years, I don’t know if anyone’s ever checked to see if he’s possessed, have they? His parents said he has low levels of ecto contamination from the portal accident or whatever, but what if that’s not it? What if some ghost has been possessing Danny this whole time?”

“It would explain a lot. Not least of all whatever that was,” said Sam. “I’ve never heard of something like whatever that was happening before, though. I’m not sure he even meant to do it.”

“Probably not. I don’t think some ghost possessing him would want to tip its hand that way,” agreed Tucker. The air hurt to breathe. It was impossibly cold, and every breath felt like he was inhaling ice crystals into his lungs. “Maybe Danny’s finally managing to fight his way through it somehow?”

Sam sat quietly for a long time, her fingers shaking as she tucked a couple of loose strands of her hair back behind her ears and then brushed the dirt off her skirt. “You really think he’s possessed?”

“What else could it be? I mean we should, like, research it, but he’s not dead, he’s got a pulse and stuff. It would explain why he’s been so weird and distant, too,” said Tucker, his mind racing through the various possibilities. Danny couldn’t be dead. Couldn’t be a ghost. Tucker refused to believe that, not even just because of the dozens of doctors appointments, but because his best friend being dead and Tucker somehow not noticing was unacceptable. “His parents' equipment can pick up on overshadowing, but I think I remember them saying before that it wouldn’t usually pick up on someone being possessed. But I don’t know anything about fixing this. Do you?

“No, but we know someone who might.”

“His parents?” 

“Well, they would know how to fix it, but that seems like a bad idea, given how trigger happy they get when it comes to ghosts. I don’t–I don’t want to take the chance that Danny might get hurt, especially if we’re wrong about him being possessed,” she said.

“Then who?”

“I was thinking of Jazz.”

Oh. That was reasonable. Jazz would have heard her parents talk about ghosts dozens of times before, and she might know something about possession already, too, or how to find the information in her parents’ research if she didn’t. But if they broached the idea with her, they would need to be as close to absolutely certain as they could about Danny being possessed now. There was still a chance this could be something else, somehow. Impossibly. He didn’t want to admit that a not so small part of him hoped he was, since at least that would explain why Danny stopped caring about them. “We should do some research before we ask her. She’s way less likely to do something stupid than Danny’s parents, but she’s also going to be super skeptical if we aren’t, like, absolutely sure.”

“Then let’s go to your house and see what we can figure out,” said Sam as his Dad pulled up, and Tucker tried to stay optimistic that somehow, impossibly, they would finally be  able to help Danny.

Chapter Text

“Okay, dipstick, so next you need to put your hand like this,” she said, adjusting his fingers slightly on the neck of the guitar, “and then hold the pick like this between your other fingers.” She held up the pick, showing him how to hold it again, and he adjusted his grip until he was grasping it properly. “Try to strum.”

Danny dragged the pick over the strings, grinning as the chord echoed through the empty park. It was a favorite spot of the ghosts that came to Amity Park, which meant it was the perfect place for her to meet the kid for their lessons since most sane people avoided it out of fear of being attacked. Occasionally they would see someone - a teenager smoking pot and trying to hide it from his parents or some stupid or brave soul walking their dog down the cement paths as quickly as possible - but they mostly had the place to themselves.  “Cool,” he whispered, doing it again.

“Aww, don’t get too excited, babypop, that’s one chord and you need to know at least three to be a pop star,” she teased, her fiery blue hair lighting up brilliantly in the twilight. “At the rate we’re going you’ll be lucky to get there by the time you're in college.”

“Haha,” he said as he pulled his left hand away and flexed it gently. Not for the first time, Ember noticed the faded burn scar on his palm. He asked her for the guitar lessons after helping her escape yet again from his overzealous parents a few months ago, and she was happy to oblige, an easy repayment for a favor so freely granted. The Fenton kid had a reputation amongst the ghosts for being well-meaning if a bit stupid sometimes, trying to convince even the nastiest of ghosts to back down from their attacks, and Ember couldn’t really disagree with that assessment after getting to know him a bit better over the past year or so during her various visits to the living world.

“Old injury?” she asked, pointing to his palm, and he quickly pulled his hand back to try to hide it.

“I . . . yeah. I got in an accident back at the start of my freshman year. It makes everything a little stiff around it and sometimes it’s hard to move my left hand,” he said. “I thought learning guitar might help since nothing else really has.”

“I’m not a physical therapist, kid.” She shrugged as she floated up into the air a few feet and laid back, putting her hands behind her head to relax a bit. “But I’ll keep teaching you if you think it’ll work. So once you feel up to it, try to play that chord again.” Even if it could work as physical therapy, she doubted the lessons would accomplish much - this was only their second lesson in two months and given how much they were covering again she could tell he clearly hadn’t practiced - but she also knew it wasn’t the whole reason he wanted lessons from her given what the other ghosts said about him.

Danny nodded, and after a few minutes of slowly stretching his hand out, he set it back on the neck of the guitar and tried again. Ember watched him as he put his index finger on the wrong string and then strummed out an awful sound she didn’t think a guitar was even capable of producing.

“Yikes,” she snapped, covering her ears, and Danny laughed, his nose scrunching up in an adorably stupid way that reminded her of her sister. Shit. She pushed the thought out of her mind, fast. She did not think about her family. That path only led to pain, and she was not going to spend her afterlife miserable and mourning what she had no control over.

“Not right, huh?” 

“Obviously.” She floated closer and corrected his positioning. “Try again.”

Ember watched him and their surroundings closely. So far, Danny was the only person any of the ghosts had met in Amity Park that seemed to react to them with downright friendliness and warmth. He never seemed put off by their otherworldly powers, and reacted to her floating and phasing about as much as an ordinary person might react to a car passing by. There were some folks in Amity that were happy to champion tolerance for ghosts and condemned some of the Fenton’s experiments as barbaric, but most of that altruism tended to disappear as soon as they experienced a ghost attack.

It wasn’t entirely without merit, either. Ember herself mind controlled hundreds before Phantom stopped her, and she’d gotten into a few other brawls since then like the time she agreed to play pirate games with Youngblood for a few hours. Youngblood was a nuisance, but Ember and the others all felt a bit of a certain obligation when it came to child ghosts. “Why don’t you care?” she asked suddenly, rolling over onto her stomach and resting her head in her hands as she floated. 

“Gonna need you to be more specific,” he said as he tried to strum, and the sound that came out of her guitar was painful. The kid had a talent for inducing misery. “Crud, that’s no good, huh?”

“Move your left finger down,” she said, “and relax your grip a little.” Danny did as she said. “Now try again.” He grinned as the sound of the same chord from before echoed once again through the park. “Nice, kid.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to feel like I don’t suck at something for a change,” he chuckled.

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far,” she said. The kid was awful, but she hadn’t expected brilliance. “But you’re still learning, and you’re at least following my instructions.” She paused, then. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t really explain what you meant,” he replied, strumming again as he gave that goofy little grin of his, but it faded quickly. “There are a lot of things people would say I don’t care about. School, friends, relationships . . . take your pick.”

“The ghosts,” she said, and he frowned, his fingers resting on her guitar. “Nothing we do seems to phase you–”

“-haha–”

“--and you were raised by two ghost hunters that see us as being less sentient than your typical dog,” she continued. The pun really wasn’t intentional - they weren’t typically her style, although like all good lyricists she dabbled with that and a dozen other kinds of word play from time to time. “It’s hard for me to understand why you don’t see us that way, too.”

Danny smiled again, but it seemed forced this time. “Teenage rebellion, maybe?” He turned back down to the guitar, pulling his hand away to look briefly again at his scar before putting it back into the proper position on the strings.

“You don’t seem like one for rebellion,” she said. The kid was as nerdy as Pointdexter, although he hid it better than Sidney. “No offense.”

“None taken, given that you’re kind of the expert after Kitty and Johnny.” Danny strummed the guitar again a few times before he finally looked over at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”

“It’s kind of nice not being seen as some kind of monster,” she explained, “and it might be nice if others besides you didn’t see us that way, too. I doubt the retired rockstar teacher vibe I’m going for right now will work on everyone, babypop, and if everyone just keeps thinking I’m gonna do something terrible, it’s hard not to just give the people what they want.”

“I don’t really buy that,” said Danny, putting the guitar down for a moment as he leaned back against the bench and looked up at the sky. It was still too early to see any stars, and the light pollution in Amity Park was bad enough that even in the park most stars weren’t visible, but the kid had the positions of most of the major constellations memorized even as they shifted throughout the year. If she asked him where to see the Big Dipper in a few hours, she knew he’d have the answer even though he probably only managed to see the night sky a few times a year himself.

“Oh?”

“I don’t think you’d start destroying things or whatever just because people think that’s what ghosts do. You don’t really do what people expect of you or what you’re told,” he said with a shrug. “But I get it. It’s hard not to just cave to your worst instincts when nobody expects anything more from you. Like there are days why I wonder why I still keep trying in school even though my teachers and my parents and my sister all expect me to fail, anyway, and I guess it’s because some part of me wants to prove them wrong. Let them realize that I’m better than they think I am. Or something. It’s stupid, maybe.”

“I think I get it,” she said. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Jazz would say I’m deflecting,” he grinned, “and she’d be right. Kind of a bad habit for me. But it’s just–it’s hard to talk about. That’s all.”

“But if there’s anyone you can talk to, it’s the cool rockstar turned personal music teacher who knows all the right things to say and has all the words of wisdom and life lessons, right?” Ember smirked at him as she picked up her guitar, quietly playing a gentler tune than her usual fare. She enjoyed teasing the kid, if nothing else. “Let me be your sensei, dipstick.”

Danny laughed despite himself. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Gotta give it my all to see if this identity sticks, that’s all. Always gonna be a rocker or a pop star, but you’ve made me think I can be something more, too. So if you hate this, it’s your fault,” she said. “So?”

“The accident I mentioned from freshman year? It kind of . . . it kind of  almost killed me. There was a moment when I thought it did,” he explained quietly as he traced the scar on his palm, and for a second she felt as if she were being swallowed up by something impossible, something giant, but the feeling rapidly vanished. She looked around the park for a minute as Danny continued talking, not wanting to alarm him since it definitely felt like another ghost was nearby, yet the park was silent aside from a handful of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. “And I started to think about what would happen to me if I became a ghost.”

“Not everyone becomes a ghost, babypop.”

“I know, but it’s possible,” he said. “And I thought about what my parents would do to me and how they’d treat me. I don’t think I need to tell you how badly it would end. You’ve been captured by them. You know they don’t–that maybe they’ll never see just how wrong all their theories are, because once I started interacting with ghosts, I saw that a lot of the things they said they knew they clearly didn’t. They were guesses, based on evidence that was questionable at best and faked at worst, and if they were better scientists then maybe they would see that their theories aren’t holding up as they collide with reality.”

“I think they do, actually,” said Ember, and Danny looked up, frowning at her. “They seem desperate, that’s all. I know what that kind of desperation is like. Makes you do stupid things and think things that don’t always make sense because the alternative–facing that you’re wrong or that you can’t have what you want–is so much worse, dipstick. So  you outright ignore the stuff in front of you or try to force it to fit the perfect square you’ve constructed even though what you’ve found is a sphere.”

Danny blinked at her, considering it for a moment. “You might be right.”

“That’s why I’m your sensei, see?” she teased, flipping upside down for a moment, and he grinned. “But so what then? You figured out your parents might be wrong, which, I might add, is classic coming of age teenage stuff even if it doesn’t usually have a ghostly flavor to it.”

“I guess,” he said. “But once I realized that what they were basing their information on was wrong, it made me think that the things they were doing might be a lot less ethical than they seemed to think, and living in that house makes me feel like I’m complicit, I guess. So I wanted to do something. I wanted to try to help. So I tried to talk to the Lunch Lady ghost that almost killed Sam when she came through the portal again. It feels stupid, in retrospect, but I didn’t know what to say so I asked her to teach me how to make brownies for my parents.”

“You asked her for a favor?” She knew this already - more than a few of the ghosts were awful gossips - but it was different hearing it directly from the kid.

Danny nodded. “Yeah. And she seemed weirdly thrilled by it. And as she showed me how to do it, she was so patient and so kind that it was kind of hard to remember that she almost seriously hurt  my friend just a couple of months before, but the more I spent time with her the more I realized that it wasn’t really the menu that upset her. It was the lack of respect for tradition, for her recipes, her food, and for the wisdom of her and others like her.”

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that old biddy. Tradition’s a bad excuse that people like her use to do awful things,” she groaned as she righted herself. “And she proved that with spades.”

“You’re not wrong that what she did was awful, or that people use tradition to excuse doing a lot of bad stuff,” said Danny, “but some traditions are kind of nice, I guess? Not holidays or anything–I hope every year we’ll finally stop pretending we can celebrate Christmas in my house–but like my family used to go camping every year at this lake about a few hours away, and sometimes I really miss those trips. It was nice to make s’mores with my sister, look at the stars with my Mom, and go fishing with my Dad. And I thought that if I could, I don’t know, find some traditions like that and bond over that with the Lunch Lady or channel what she needed in a different way, then maybe . . . maybe my folks would get that she’s not as simple as they think she is. That none of the ghosts are. And that all of them–all of you, really–have the capacity to change and do better and just be better.”

“So you decided to turn me into a music teacher, huh?” said Ember, but she smiled at him. “It’s cool, dipstick, but it’s probably not enough.”

“Maybe not,” he said with a shrug, polite enough not to mention her particular obsession with recognition. With being seen and understood and remembered and cared for. But clearly the kid knew, or this wouldn’t be working on her half as well as it was. It irked her a bit, his actions teetering on an almost uncomfortable kind of manipulation, but there was something so genuine and honest and just plain earnest about him that she struggled to think of him or what he was doing as anything really malicious. He never pressured them, either - she knew that if she said no he would think no less of her for it - and maybe knowing it was genuinely a choice made all the difference. “But getting guitar lessons from a famous musician is pretty cool for now, even if in two weeks you’re back to mind controlling teenagers or whatever.”

“As if mind controlling teenagers is hard,” she said. She barely needed to use hypnosis. “Wonder what you’d be obsessed with if you did become a ghost. Ever think about it?”

“Probably outer space? I mean, have you ever seen me not in NASA hoodies?” Danny gestured at his old sweater with a grin. “At least it would be a better obsession than hunting, at any rate.”

“You know that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about, right?”

Danny flinched. “Wait, seriously? Skulker? You two are dating? ”

“It’s the rebellious streak in me,” she said as she handed him back the guitar. “I like dangerous men.” Although realistically, Skulker was a bigger softie than he let on. Not that she would tell the dipstick that. 

“I think in this case he’s more of a bad blob, but, uh, let’s not go there, maybe?” said Danny, wincing as he took the guitar back, and she smiled wickedly at him. “But I know you can handle yourself.”

“Damn straight, babypop, so let’s try that chord again, and if you get it right this time, I’ll teach you another,” she said as they resumed their lesson. They spent the next hour quietly working on his technique, and by the time they were done he could reliably play a few chords that she knew he would likely forget by the next time they met. 

“Do you want to do a lesson next week?” she asked, and then she saw his eyes lock onto someone on the path. Looking up, she saw that ghost hunter girl, Valerie, in a fast food uniform, her hands pulling an ecto gun out of her purse. “On second thought, let’s figure that out later since I think that’s my cue to leave. Make sure you practice this time, okay?” Grabbing her guitar, she vanished and flew off before Valerie could shoot. Danny would be fine. It wasn’t as if he were a ghost, after all, no matter what his nightmares might suggest.

Chapter Text

Mid-afternoon shifts at the Nasty Burger were the worst. 

Val went in right after school. After reciting an obnoxious cliche about leaning and cleaning during the slow afternoon hours, her manager assigned her to clean the grease filters in the hood over the grill. The job was disgusting, getting her up to her elbows in oil as she sprayed everything down out back, and she spent her entire shift stinking of burgers and everything that earned the Nasty Burger its name. How any of her classmates could continue to eat there was beyond her.

She was furious by the time she left and decided to try to calm down by walking through the park on her way home, hoping she might stumble across a ghost that she could take out some of her aggression on, and while she was delighted when her watch alerted her to the presence of a nearby ghost, she was much less thrilled to find her ex-boyfriend sitting there, quietly chatting with Ember while holding a guitar.

Val was reaching for her blaster when the ghost grabbed the instrument and vanished, and instead of looking relieved, Danny glared at her, his gaze intense enough that Valerie swore the temperature around them dropped by a few degrees. She scowled right back, undeterred by Danny’s stormy expression.

“I thought you said you’d quit that?” she said as she tucked her blaster away. She caught him once before chatting with some nerdy looking ghost named Pointdexter at school, and after giving him a long explanation about how incredibly stupid he was being, she thought he genuinely took her warning to heart and stopped trying to hang out with ghosts. She probably should have known better. “Hanging out with ghosts?”

“As long as they’re willing to play nice, too, I’m more than happy to talk to them still. I never told you I wouldn’t, Val,” He sighed, looking away from her, and sure enough, she couldn’t actually remember him agreeing to stay away from the ghosts, just that he understood why she was warning him against doing it. “Are you going to give me another lecture about it?”

“I should, but I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’ll leave the lectures to your parents or Jazz,” she said, although she considered giving him an earful about it anyway since they were still friends. If Danny wasn’t willing to stop after Tucker was hurt, though, it seemed unlikely that anything would convince him that the ghosts weren’t friendly enough for casual chit chats and whatever the heck was going on between him and Ember now. “Mind if I sit?”

“Nope. Ember’s not going to come back.” He scooted over to the far edge of the bench as she sat down beside him and put her bag in her lap. Danny leaned his head back, no doubt trying to make out the stars that were just starting to emerge. A small part of her always wanted to bring him up on her hoverboard back when they were dating, knowing they could get to a point where Amity’s light pollution was minimized, where the view of the night sky was genuinely spectacular, but that would have meant revealing her secret to Danny. Something which she wasn’t willing to do, especially not after learning how much he cared about ghosts and how he treated them as people rather than the life-destroying, dangerous creatures most of them were. She couldn’t bear it if he hated her for hunting them. Valerie knew his relationship with his parents was strained because of their profession, the conversations at the few family dinners and game nights she attended by far more stilted and awkward despite his parents’ best efforts to remain understanding of Danny’s flawed perspective. That kind of distance between him and his family was hard but manageable - between the two of them, she wasn’t so sure that even their friendship could survive him knowing the truth about her and what she did.

“What were you two doing, anyway?” she asked, her tone a little more snappish than she intended, but Danny didn’t react. 

“She’s teaching me how to play guitar.” 

“You want to learn to play guitar?” Val said. Of all the responses she expected, this wasn’t it, but she was honestly relieved he wasn’t trying to date Ember. Still, Danny never seemed terribly engaged in their music classes at school in all the years she knew him. “Are you back to trying to impress Paulina? Because she doesn’t usually go for guitarists. Or is it Sam?”

“Ugh, neither,” he groaned, rolling his eyes before holding out his left palm. Val could barely make out the scar tissue from his accident freshman year. The two of them weren’t friends back then, but she knew he was hurt badly enough that he missed about a month or so of school. “I was hoping it would help my hand a little. It’s still kind of stiff.”

“Didn’t your parents sign you up for physical therapy after, y’know?” she said, gesturing vaguely. Danny rarely answered questions about the actual accident itself - to this day, she still didn’t know all the details despite dating him and staying friends.

“Yeah, but it didn’t do much. I stopped going after a couple of months.”

“You know that process can take a lot more than a couple of months, right? I busted my knee in a karate competition when I was twelve and it took almost a year before it was even close to back to normal,” said Val. The injury cost her the chance to go to their state championship, and she was furious. Her Daddy barely managed to stop her from competing again before her injury fully healed, but looking back she knew he was right to make her take a year off. “But I guess learning guitar doesn’t seem like a terrible option if your doctor says he’s cool with it. It might be better to learn from a living human, though.”

Danny glared as he crossed his arms over his chest. The air grew chillier as a cool breeze blew through, and she wrapped her own arms around herself, trying to ignore it. “Not if this will help Ember stop attacking Amity Park. Besides, regular, living humans want you to be able to adhere to a regular schedule, and you of all people ought to know how bad I am at showing up when and where I’m supposed to be.”

Val wanted to push it, but they spent more than enough hours arguing over the ghost thing while dating, so she let it drop. She silently applauded herself for learning to control her temper a little better over the past year, though it still held a pretty tight grip most days. “Yeah, well, it was part of what made dating you nice. Every other boy I’ve gone out with since then hasn’t been half as patient about me needing to bail last minute because of work.”

“At least you have good excuses for it,” he said. His expression softened then as he shifted and put his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie. “Did your dad get that promotion finally? I noticed you’ve been at the Nasty Burger less.”

“Don’t know yet. They’ve been dragging it out for months, but I hope it still happens. I’d love to never clean out another grease trap or hood again,” said Valerie as she let her legs swing slowly back and forth. “Plus it’d be nice to get my grades back up this year. I still want to try and get into a good school if I can, and we don’t have the connections through my Dad that we used to.” Mr. Masters offered to put in a good word for her and to provide a scholarship, knowing how much she dedicated herself to her ghost hunting, but she still wanted to feel like she deserved it, too.

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I should probably be trying to do the same thing.”

“You still want to be an astronaut?”

“Yeah, but there’s no way it’ll happen now. Not with my grades and heart problems and stuff.” He tried to say it as if it wasn’t a big deal, but she saw his lip tremble and heard the faint tremor in his voice, and reaching over she squeezed his hand gently, trying to offer some small comfort. “If I failed to become an astronaut because I couldn’t cut it, that would be different, but this . . . it sucks, Val.”

She understood. It was one thing to try and fail, but quite another to have the choice taken away all together. “Maybe there’s something else you can do that’s space-related.” 

“Maybe, but it’s not really the same thing,” he said as he pulled his hand back and tucked it back in his pocket. “But it’s–it’s fine. I’ll figure something else out. Maybe I’ll try to be a rock star - my chances of being a successful guitarist are probably about the same odds as being an astronaut ever were.”

“You don’t have to switch one impossible goal for another, you know. You could–I don’t know, be an accountant or something,” she offered, and he rolled his eyes. “Or work in a lab like your parents.”

She knew the instant the words were out of her mouth that it was the wrong thing to say, and she wished she could take it back. His eyes looked hollow as he swallowed and bit his lip. Danny hated what his parents did, the way they treated and dehumanized the ghosts, but he did have a knack for understanding complicated physics and math that few people did, which meant he could probably be a decent engineer like his Dad. Still, having talent in something didn’t mean that you had to be happy about it. “I’d rather not,” he said eventually as Val rubbed her arms, that bite in the air back again, and she glanced at her watch. No ghosts, at least. Just a normal, chilly March night.

Well, while they were on the topic of subjects that were probably off-limits, she might as well ask the question that had been bothering her for a few days. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask - everything okay with you and Sam and Tucker? They seemed kind of twitchy during school the last couple of days and I noticed y’all stopped eating lunch together.” She could tell the trio had some kind of falling out, but didn’t understand why, and Danny slumped forward and tucked his knees to his chest, letting his chin rest there. 

“For months they’ve been asking me why I grew kind of distant and started isolating myself after my accident freshman year,” he said. “I haven’t been willing to talk about it, not with anyone, but the other day I told them a little bit and they, uh, kind of freaked out real bad. I don’t really know what they’re thinking at this point, but I’m pretty sure they want nothing to do with me.”

“Which is why you never told them in the first place, huh?” said Val, and he gave a half-nod as he buried his face in his knees. She moved closer and put a hand gently on his shoulder. “Sam and Tucker are good friends, Danny. They’ll come around. I doubt there’s anything so weird that you could tell them that would make them bail on you forever.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered, refusing to look up. 

“You wanna talk to me about it?” 

Danny barked out a harsh laugh, and she jerked her hand away in surprise. Of all the reactions she expected, laughter wasn’t on the list, and she glowered at him. “Val, no offense, but if they took it this badly, then I don’t think there’s any way that you would handle it better. I know you’re more, um, willing to live and let live, so to speak, but this is different. It goes way beyond me trying to chat up ghosts when I know your preference would be for me to put an ecto blaster in their face.”

“Oh, come on. What could it possibly be that’s so bad? It’s not like you’re dead or . . . wait, you’re not like, dying of cancer or something, are you?” She felt a chill clutch at her, remembering her mom in the hospital those last six months. Danny hadn’t shown any signs, but in the early stages of treatment, it wasn’t always obvious. Her mom hadn’t lost her hair for the first two years, the doctors not wanting to pursue what they originally considered an overly aggressive treatment plan. She wished they had. Maybe her mom would still be here, then. 

“I’m not dying of cancer or anything like that,” he said, and she felt the knot in her chest relax a bit. “Or if I am, nobody told me. But I really don’t want to talk about it. Kind of like you never want to talk about whatever your second job is. Some stuff should just stay a secret, I guess. Is that okay with you?”

If there was anyone in the world that would understand what he meant, then it was Valerie. She spent the last year operating as the Red Huntress, fighting ghosts and protecting Amity Park from the same specters that Danny was all too willing to defend. Nobody except her private benefactor Mr. Masters knew. Nobody else could know. “Yeah, I think I get it. But you know if you ever want to talk about it, I am here, okay? And I know you don’t think so, but I can handle more than you think.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Suddenly an intense shiver ran through him and he coughed, his breath fogging for a moment in the chilly air. Rubbing his arms, he jumped to his feet as he uneasily looked around the park.  “Sorry, Val, I think I gotta go. I’m not feeling great.”

“You want an escort home? I do have one of your parents’ blasters with me in case it’s a ghost, and I’ve never met a mugger I was afraid of,” she said, patting her bag, and he shook his head just as her watch vibrated and alerted her to the presence of a nearby ghost.

“No, but thanks. I’ll see you at school.” Internally, she felt a bit of relief that he didn’t want to walk home together. If there was a ghost nearby, the best way she could protect him was by donning her suit and taking it out before he even noticed, since no doubt he would try to talk to the stupid thing instead of letting her shoot it and stuff it in a thermos.

“Sure. And, um, Danny? You can eat lunch with me and Star, if you want,” she offered.  Although she figured they would probably make up at some point, she knew that for now he still must feel raw after being abandoned by his closest friends. It ached in a way that few people understood. “She won’t mind as long as she doesn’t think we’re going to date again.”

He blinked, clearly surprised by the offer, and for the first time in what felt like months, he gave her a genuine smile as he waved. “That sounds great, Val. Thanks.”

And then he was gone, and after glancing around the park to make sure no one else was around, she activated her suit with a mere thought. The newer suit was still a bit freaky even after nearly six months of use, but there was no denying that it was convenient, and slapping her feet together to summon her hoverboard, she leaped into the air to find the ghost.

Valerie surveyed the park carefully from the air as she followed the signal, and just as she was getting close a second alert popped up. Great. Phantom. How the hell did he get here so fast?

Gritting her teeth, she covered the last bit of distance just in time to see a brilliant flash of green light through the trees as Phantom fired an ecto blast. A pained howl pierced the air, and Valerie came to a stop and hovered over the giant ghost wolf while Phantom walked into the clearing, thermos in hand, his movements impossibly silent despite his heavy boots and hazmat suit. Clicking the button on the side of the thermos, Phantom sucked the ghost wolf up with ease and then looked at her, his eyes glowing the usual toxic green. How Sam found any comfort in the ghost the other day at school, she could never understand, her own gut twisting as he watched her.

Valerie whipped out her blaster and fired a shot at Phantom, who lazily put up a shield. “I thought we had a truce?” he asked, static crackling.

“After your little disappearing act the other day? Maybe if you explain yourself, I’ll reconsider,” she said. 

“I already explained it, and besides, there’s a human close by,” he said as she powered up her blaster for another shot. “Daniel Fenton, I think? He could get hurt if we fight.”

“As if you care,” she snapped, but the whine of her blaster faded out as she let her weapon drop to her side. She doubted Danny was anywhere near them, but she would play along for now. “You’re just using him as a shield.”

“If you say so,” he said with a shrug as he turned away from her, and Valerie’s fingers clenched her blaster tightly. With a mere thought and a slight twitch of her legs, she maneuvered her jet sled in front of the ghost, stopping him in his tracks. 

Phantom stopped, his radio crackling. His green eyes were the only thing visible behind his tinted face shield. Not for the first time she wished she could see who he was underneath the hood of his Hazmat suit. “It’s not fair, you know,” she said suddenly, surprising herself.

“What?”

“You know who I am - why don’t I get to know who you are?” 

This time, he did seem surprised, the static crackling loudly over his radio as he spoke. “Wait, seriously? That’s why you’re stopping me now? Not to interrogate me about last week again even though I’ve already told you that I didn’t want to run into the Fentons?”

“That’s a lame excuse, ghost. You have a truce with them–”

“--I have a truce with you and you still tried to shoot me a minute ago!” he interrupted, the temperature around them dropping fast. “Somehow, that’s always how these truces end, even though I’m supposed to be the manipulative, evil one in this equation.”

Valerie bristled at the accusation. “You broke the truce when you started acting all freaky!”

“I acted all freaky because I didn’t want to get shot by the Fentons in case they also decided that some minor action of mine was enough to put a gun in my face again, too,” he snapped, and she could see frost appearing on the grass around him. Cryokinesis? Since when did Phantom have that power? She pulled out her blaster, aiming it at him once more, but she resisted the urge to put her finger on the trigger. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want a fight,” she said, gesturing with her blaster at the growing ring of frost and ice.  She hated fighting ghosts with elemental abilities - they were one of the few things that could get past a lot of the protection provided by her suit. 

He glanced down, only seeming to just notice the ice. “I–you’re right. I don’t want a fight. But you did try to shoot me first, and you’re still the one pointing a gun.”

“You’re the one turning the park into a Winter Wonderland!” she argued. “Stop that and I’ll lower my blaster.”

“I’m trying.” The static on his radio fizzled loudly, but little by little the ice and frost retreated, the temperature slowly rising as he eased back on his attack. “Sorry.”

“As if you mean it,” she muttered, but she put her blaster away as the last of the ice disappeared. 

“Right, of course. Can’t be out here expressing remorse, not when I’m nothing more than another monster to be put down, right?” he said. “This is why it doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“You and everyone else constantly want to know what’s under this suit, as if that should matter even half as much as everything I’ve done,” said Phantom. “As if knowing who I was before I died is the most important thing, somehow, even though you and the Fentons and everyone just constantly talk about how ghosts are nothing more than a lousy imprint of the person whose consciousness spawned them at the moment of their death and are completely detached from the person they were when they were alive.”

“It’s still important, Phantom. You can’t expect people to trust you if they don’t know anything about you,” said Val. 

“People know a lot about me,” he said. “The things that they know just aren’t the things they want to know.”

“So you won’t even tell me?”

“Isn’t that obvious? You’re the last person I’d tell, Valerie, given who your employer is.”

Valerie scowled under her helmet. Attacking her character was one thing, but Mr. Masters? “There’s nothing wrong with–”

“--you yourself have told me multiple times just how much he would love to cut me open if given the opportunity,” interrupted Phantom. Again. She hated when he did that. “And besides, any person who would take advantage of a teenager's rage and frustration the way he’s taken advantage of you? Making you put yourself at intense risk for his benefit? That’s not a guy who deserves anyone’s trust, and you should really think twice about the jobs he’s making you do.”

Valerie felt hot, her jaw clenched as her hands shook slightly, but remembering Danny nearby she forced down the urge to shoot the stupid ghost in his stupid face shield. “How dare you,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “act as if you know anything about me or my employer. I am not being used. ”

Phantom stared at her silently for a moment, and then she heard a crackle of static, almost as if he was letting out a long sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said, and she wished she could see his face to give her a better idea if he was being sincere or not. It sounded sincere, but even as the thought crossed her mind she knew it was ridiculous. He was a ghost. He would lie or say whatever thing he needed to get his way, his apologies functionally worthless.

And yet, more and more she was finding that explanation didn’t sit with her as well as it used to, and the reason was almost entirely because of Phantom. Because despite her attacking him and threatening him tonight, he still didn’t retaliate beyond making a little frost appear on the ground, showing a level of restraint she couldn’t help but envy. 

“Well, I’ve made a lot of assumptions about you, too,” said Valerie after a moment, her anger slowly fading, “but I’m not convinced that I’m wrong about those yet.”

“But you’re considering it?” She shrugged. Was she considering it? Even she wasn’t sure at this point, but the way he was with Sam the other day, his concern about Danny, the fact that he did genuinely seem to be trying to help even if he was often screwing up more than he fixed . . . it could all be an elaborate trick, of course. But she spent over a year now waiting for the other shoe to drop, and so far nothing had happened despite her constant vigilance. “What would it take to convince you that I’m not trying to hurt anyone? That I just want to help?”

“It’s hard to trust someone that you don’t know anything about. You can say actions speak louder than words or whatever, but at the end of the day, if I don’t know where you came from, I can’t have any idea what’s driving you.” Letting out a long, slow breath as she tried to maintain control over her anger, she let her helmet retract, her hair cascading down her back. “You know what drives me and why I hunt ghosts.”

“Because they ruined your life, right?” He ought to know. It was that awful ghost dog, Cujo, running rampant that Phantom failed to keep under control that cost her father his job. And it wasn’t just her life that was ruined by the ghosts, either. Dozens of other people like her existed in Amity Park, innocents whose lives were destroyed by the otherworldly creatures like Phantom that came through the portal without pausing to consider the harm they caused to those that still lived.

“So what makes you hunt them? Tell me that much, at least,” she said. No one knew his motivation or his obsession - even a small clue towards it would go a long way. She and the Fentons used to think he was obsessed with fighting and that the other ghosts provided a convenient outlet, but more and more that explanation didn’t sit quite right. Not when she saw him do things like save kids from getting crushed by a collapsing building when there was no ghost in sight, rare though that circumstance might be.

“Are you going to tell your boss?”

Valerie scowled, that hot rage bubbling up again, but she forced it down. “I told you, I’m not being used. I’m no one’s puppet. And if you don’t want me to tell him, then I won’t.”

She thought he wouldn’t answer her, then, or that if he did he would give some worthless answer about it being the right thing to do. “At first, I started doing it because I didn’t think anyone else could. The Fentons had never seen ghosts like the ones that came through the portal–they were used to the shades that could barely sustain a physical form. Ghosts with the level of physical presence that we have now, like me? It’s not something they were prepared for.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “By ghostly standards, I’m a relatively new ghost. I can still remember what it was like to be human. And I don’t feel jealousy or even have the kind of lack of understanding that some of the older ghosts have for how easily the living can be harmed. I just . . . this?” He held up a faintly glowing, gloved hand. “This isn’t the same as humanity. It’s not the same as being alive. And being alive was incredible, and I don’t want . . . I just want people to be able to experience it. I don’t want their lives cut short because of the others that are like me, I guess. There are a bunch of things I never got to do or have because I died. A whole lot of dreams I had to give up. I don’t want anyone else to go through what I did. To lose that chance.”

“That’s all well and good, ghost, but if the Fentons are right, at some point you won’t remember that anymore. Like every other ghost, you’ll give into your obsession eventually.”

“This is my obsession,” he said. 

“Protection?”

“Not exactly, or at least, not in the way you’re probably thinking. It’s more like . . . like protecting dreams, kind of? Like a desire to see people get to experience the things I couldn’t? I can’t really put a word to it. I guess protection’s part of it, but it’s not exactly right. And ghosts aren’t as beholden to their obsessions as you might think,” said Phantom. “It’s more complicated than that. We’re more complicated than that.” 

Secretly Valerie doubted that, but she said nothing as she stuck out a hand. She did not break her promises lightly, no matter how much Phantom accused her of doing so.  “I’m still not sure I trust you, Phantom, but I’m willing to give you a chance again. Don’t make me regret it.”

The ghost stared at her, its green eyes fixated on the hand in front of him. “Another truce?” He seemed unimpressed. “Will you at least promise to give me a warning before you change your mind and start shooting again?”

“Might only be a few seconds, but I can do that,” she said, and he shook her hand, the icy chill of his own blunted by her own suit.

Chapter Text

Jazz stood outside a house that she never set foot inside of before today, but she’d been here countless times whenever she or her parents dropped off Danny. She never expected to go in it, either, since Tucker was Danny’s friend, not hers, but Tucker’s texts were vague and filled with an intense sense of urgency and worry. 

Something was wrong with Danny. 

They needed her help, but she couldn’t tell her parents. 

Could she bring some of her parents’ research, though? About overshadowing and possession, specifically, if they had anything?

Jazz believed she was smart, and the world had done nothing so far to disprove her of that notion. Even if she wasn’t half as smart as she was, it still wouldn’t be hard to figure out that Sam and Tucker thought Danny was possessed or overshadowed by a ghost. Why they believed that or when or how it happened, though . . . that part was harder.  Jazz hadn’t noticed any changes in behavior in Danny for a long time, not since the initial shift in the first few months after his accident, but while he might be depressed or suffering from some form of PTSD, nothing about what happened seemed out of the ordinary for a person that survived such a traumatic event. 

At least not until she started skimming through her parents’ research and noticed some uncomfortable patterns.

Clutching her notebook tightly to her chest, she shifted her book bag with her free hand before finally forcing herself to ring the bell. Mrs. Foley answered the door, looking a bit surprised to see that the Fenton teenager standing there was certainly not the one she was accustomed to having over, although Jazz couldn’t remember the last time Danny went to Tucker’s house. He certainly hadn’t asked her for a ride in ages.

“Jazz? Everything okay with Danny?”

“Everything’s fine!” she squeaked, and internally she winced. She had to keep it together for Danny’s sake. Shifting her notebook, she put on her best, friendliest smile, the kind she specifically reserved for pleasing authority figures like teachers or her parents. “Is Tucker here? I offered to help review some of what I did that helped me ensure I had a strong application when I applied to Harvard and a few Ivy League schools last summer. He said that he and Sam were interested?”

That last part shouldn’t have been a question, but Angela smiled at her, clearly attributing it to nerves about coming over for the first time rather than anything else. “He’s upstairs in his room with Sam. You can go up and meet him, if you like. It’s the door at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you!” Stepping inside, she barely took note of her surroundings before hurrying up the staircase in front of her and rushing to Tucker’s bedroom.

Tucker’s room was surprisingly clean. She always assumed it would be a mess, much like her younger brother’s, but instead he had things neatly organized and tucked away. A desk with a computer with three monitors sat in the corner, colorful fans spinning rapidly in his desktop tower as Tucker sat in the chair scrolling through some website on one screen while a game remained paused on one and his email was opened on the other. There were a few dozen of the plastic sliding drawers and cabinets with neat labels, each one filled to the brim with various computer parts. An old TV and gaming console - she thought it might be a DreamCast, of all things, but wasn't sure - sat it in the corner. His bed was neatly made, the bedspread just a plain solid green, and Sam was sitting on top of it, squirming uncomfortably. Her makeup was done, but it was a much lighter coat than she typically applied and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. 

“You can sit on the bed, if you want, or Sam can grab a chair from my mom’s room,” said Tucker as she walked in.

“The bed’s fine,” she replied as she took a seat next to Sam and smiled at the two of them. “So, uh, what’s this–”

Tucker leaned back in his chair and slammed his door shut, and Jazz nearly jumped out of her skin. “Sorry. Don’t want my Mom or Dad to listen in.”

“They don’t care if you have the door opened when you have, um, y’know? Girls over?” 

“Nope,” Tucker replied, “Which if you ask me is kind of insulting. I think they don’t believe their son has any game.”

“Or they think you’re gay, or they realized it’s kind of sexist rule that’s borderline homophobic because it makes certain assumptions about your sexuality all together,” said Sam, which Jazz felt was a not-so-slight insult aimed at her. Whatever. She and Sam didn’t need to be best friends. That wasn’t her role with the two of them, not when they were Danny’s friends, and she didn’t care enough to have an argument over dumb house rules she had no say in anyway. “Can we get on with this? We’re not here to talk about your love life, Tuck.”

“Right, so, um . . . about Danny . . . “

“You think he’s possessed,” said Jazz immediately, pulling open her book bag and handing out a couple of texts, and both Sam and Tucker began to flip through them as she spoke. “I’ve got a few of my parents papers on it, but it doesn’t look like this was a significant research topic for them or any paranormal researchers since actual possessions are incredibly rare.”

“So you think we’re wrong?” Sam’s arms were tucked into her sides, her fingers gripping the journal tightly as she shifted and crossed one of her legs. Pointing it at Jazz. Defensive position. Naturally. When wasn’t Sam responding defensively to her?

Jazz bit her lip, considering her next words carefully. “I’m not sure. I want you to be wrong, because if you’re right, then this is a lot worse than I think either of you might realize. But the more I read about it, the harder it was for me to deny your theory outright. So I guess first things first: why do the two of you think he’s possessed?”

Sam and Tucker shared a look, and then Tucker turned back to his computer briefly to open up a new tab. Jazz frowned as it loaded. It was an article on a site that looked like it was made back in the late 90s or early 2000s, judging from the garish background and header, or maybe the person that posted the article didn’t know anything about making websites. Glancing at the article, she saw a date stamped at the top from about a decade ago, along with a handful of names she vaguely recognized as some of her parents’ colleagues. 

“ Death Echoes: Psychomagnotheric Ectoplasm Manipulation by Spectral Entities When Recounting their Moment of Formation, ” she read out loud and frowned. “Wait, I’ve heard of that before. Psychomagnotheric is an ectoplasm subtype, I think. It has to do with emotional resonance.”

“Right. According to this article and the other stuff Sam and I looked at, it’s basically why a room feels cold when you’re in it with an angry ghost. It’s the kind of ectoplasm that can cause things to be altered or changed in an environment around a ghost based on strong emotion. Researchers like your parents used that knowledge to trigger certain responses in ghosts back when most of the ones they encountered were just shades and often invisible. So they’d talk to them and would deliberately try to provoke them to create an emotional response, which would cause some kind of physical manifestation that they could study and record,” said Tucker, his knuckles white on his mouse. “But that’s not really the important part. See, uh, we kind of had firsthand experience with a death echo the other day, which is basically what happens when a ghost talks about its death. It often ends up recreating a kind of shadow or impression of whatever caused their death in the world around it.”

Jazz made the connection instantly, despite Tucker dancing around it. “Wait, this happened with Danny?”

“Yeah. We were talking, and he seemed like he was opening up about some stuff, and then he started to talk about his portal accident and it was, uh . . . not pleasant,” said Tucker with a shudder.

“Basically it felt like it was happening around us and to us, like we could literally feel the pain he felt that day and I swear I saw the portal for a minute. Danny looked freaked out, and he ran off before we could try to talk to him. He’s been avoiding us since then,” said Sam, frowning as she tugged at her skirt. “Well, I guess we’ve also been avoiding him. We’re kind of worried that whatever ghost is possessing Danny won’t be super kind if it gets us alone with him now that we know it’s in there.”

“But the portal accident didn’t kill Danny or anyone else,” said Jazz as she flipped her notebook open to a fresh page and started taking notes. She would have to be careful not to leave it lying around the house, though - maybe her car would be best? Danny rarely accepted her offer for a ride these days. “So why would it have triggered a death echo?” The words tasted unpleasant on her tongue, death being an association with her brother she definitely did not want. 

“We’re not entirely sure. I think if the ghost controlling him knew it would, it definitely wouldn’t have talked about it, and I suspect it didn’t even think there was a chance it might for exactly the reason you said. It’s not as if that’s what killed whatever ghost is possessing him,” said Tucker. “But it must’ve felt like dying to Danny. Even though he survived it, I think it was close enough to a near-death experience that it still caused us to experience a, uh, near-death echo, I guess, since Danny is still in there somewhere. It’s all just about emotional resonance with this stuff. The emotions have to be strong enough to cause the ectoplasm to physically manifest in some way. A ghost’s death is just the most extreme way to get a reaction like that to happen, I guess.”

It made a kind of sense, she supposed. Maybe Danny even did know it would cause the odd reaction. Maybe it was his way of trying to send a signal to them, a cry for help. Still, it didn’t quite sit right with her. “Are we sure he’s possessed, though? What if–what if he’s not? What if he’s–” The words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. To suggest that Danny might be a ghost.

“A ghost?” said Sam, and she gave a fraction of a nod. “We thought the same thing at first, but someone would have noticed if Danny died. He’s been to like a billion doctors’ appointments, right?”

“He has.” She felt herself breathe, then, and she relaxed her fingers a bit. She didn’t even realize how tightly she had gripped the pen and notebook beneath her fingers. They were right. Someone would have noticed it for sure if her brother died, and she knew he still breathed and that his heart still beat, even if both were a little slower than they should be. “But do you really think it’s possession? Could it be anything else?”

“Well, that’s part of the reason we wanted to talk to you. We tried to figure out if it could be something else, but based on what we’ve researched so far, we haven’t found anything else that even kind of makes sense. Like, there are people who are supposedly psychic mediums who can have a few symptoms in common with Danny, but there’s no reliable reports of them being able to manipulate ectoplasm the way Danny did or evidence that their powers even exist. That seems to be like a pure ghost thing,” said Sam. 

“Did your parents, um . . . do they ever check for possessions?” asked Tucker, and Jazz shook her head.

“No, not really. Overshadowing is easier to pick up on - from what I’ve read from those articles and books I gave you, it’s like oil floating on top of the water. You might not notice it immediately, but all it takes is the light hitting it the right way to see it. Just like a ghost overshadowing a person usually causes some kind of light, physical changes like subtle shifts in eye color or erratic behavior,” Jazz explained. “But possession is deeper. It’s more like salt mixed in water, and it’s almost impossible to tell just by looking at it unless you have the right equipment. The ghost would also have access to his memories, his feelings, everything that makes Danny, well, Danny. In the case of detecting a ghost’s presence, you would need to either get it to exhibit some ghostly ability or trait in front of you, the way I guess this ghost inside Danny accidentally did, or you would need to do a much stronger, close up scan than the type my parents typically use to detect ghosts.”

“But possession also takes a long time,” continued Jazz. “Which is the other reason why it’s so rare. While a person is in the process of being possessed, it’s not unusual for them to be unconscious or to have a patchy memory or all kinds of other problems that are really obvious. If this . . . If you’re right, then Danny’s been under the control of this ghost for a long time. Likely since his accident, since I can’t think of another time when he would have exhibited those initial symptoms.”

“He did become all pro-ghost rights or whatever not long after that, didn’t he?” asked Tucker, and Sam nodded. “Seemed kind of weird considering the years of your parents’ research and all the damage from the ghost attacks.”

“It goes beyond that, Tucker. I caught him the other day spending time with a ghost,” said Jazz, drawing tiny spirals in the margins of her notebook as she fought to keep her emotions steady.  “He made a convincing argument for why he was doing it, but knowing what I do now, I’m worried he might have been up to something worse before I found them. He–I’m pretty sure he noticed me, even though he didn’t say anything until the ghost was gone.”

“Danny was hanging out with a ghost?” 

“Yeah, the lunch lady one. They were making cookies for Dad’s birthday together,” she replied, and Sam and Tucker exchanged a look of absolute horror that she understood immediately. She waved her hands and shook her head in protest. “There was nothing wrong with the cookies, though! I thought of that, too, once I realized what you were asking, but whatever ghost is hiding in him doesn’t seem interested in hurting me or Mom or Dad at this point. But I know Mom and Dad have also talked about the ghosts escaping traps in the lab and stuff. Danny denies doing it and I’ve never seen him set foot down there since his accident, but if he’s possessed, it might be possible for him to sneak down invisibly and sabotage their work.”

“That’s also a good motive for why a ghost would possess him for so long. Danny’s in the perfect spot to make sure that your parents can’t continue their research or develop more effective tech against them,” said Sam. 

“There’s a lot of evidence that he’s possessed, too, even beyond your experience the other day. The hypothermia, his slower breathing and slower heart beat are all classic signs of possession,” said Jazz, flipping back to her notes on the previous pages. “Plus weird cold spots. I know it’s been a while since you were both over, but his room feels like stepping inside a freezer, and the temperature always seems to fluctuate around him at home. My parents assume it’s just the proximity to the portal, but given everything else we know, it seems pretty likely it’s whatever ghost possessing Danny could be causing it, too.”

“So how do we fix it?” asked Sam. “The thought of Danny having no control over himself for almost two years now is just . . . “ She shuddered, fingers pinching the edge of her skirt. “I don’t want this to continue. It’s not right.”

“Well, that’s the bad part,” said Jazz. “The safest way to do it is with the name of the ghost. It sounds a little silly to me, but the books all say that you can attempt a summoning or an exorcism. It works roughly the same way,  but with the exorcism he’d be aware we were doing it right away and would need to be in the room. He could try to harm us or influence us, but it has a much higher chance of succeeding.  With the summoning, he would have very little warning. The ghost would be pulled from him as long as the summoning was strong enough, since it shouldn’t bring the physical body it’s possessing with it, and the ghost should be trapped in the summoning circle, too. But the summonings don’t always work. The ghosts can sometimes resist it, and all of them say something about having the ghosts’ true name to make it work. One mentioned that a medium could help, but I asked Dad about it since it seemed kind of farfetched–I didn’t mention a word about Danny being possessed–” she added quickly, seeing Sam’s intense glare “--and he doesn’t think they exist at all. I guess he and Mom worked with some researcher back in college who looked into mediums and found a lot of fakes just using it as a way to capitalize on people’s grief.”

“That sounds about right to me,” said Sam. “I was really into the ghost stuff in middle school. I went to a few shows with mediums at it, but they were just doing lousy cold reads. If there’s a real medium out there, I don’t think we’ll be able to find them. Can we do it without it? I used to try to summon ghosts, but I never got it to work.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be harder,” said Jazz. “But that’s part of the problem. A lot of this just seems pretty speculative, but I didn’t find a lot of other suggestions for dealing with possession.”

“Maybe we can at least get the true name, then,” said Sam, and she saw Tucker staring at her. “What?”

“You seriously used to try and summon ghosts?” he said. “When?”

“At, like, sleepovers in middle school and stuff. I’d never do it now if I could help it, given everything,” she said with a shrug. Jazz felt a twinge of jealousy - she never really went to more than a couple sleepovers as a kid, most people finding her an insufferable know-it-all and tattle-tale, and while there was a little bit of truth to both, it still stung. “So we need a name, then?”

“If we can.”

“Do your parents have any tech that might help?” asked Tucker. 

“For finding the name? Not really. I thought about this thing they have called the Fenton Ghost Catcher. It’s supposed to be able to separate a ghost and human host, but it’s meant for surface level stuff like overshadowing. I don’t know if it’ll work on a possession, and I think it would be hard to surprise Danny with it since it’s as tall as I am and looks like a giant dream catcher. Plus he knows what it is already, too, which means so does whatever ghost is possessing him and it’s probably not going to be eager to jump through it,” said Jazz. “And if we screw this up, it can go badly really quickly.”

“Meaning?” 

“The ghost inside him is deeply embedded at this point,” said Jazz, flipping to another page and checking over her notes quickly, but at this point she had nearly everything in her notebook memorized. “Especially after such a long possession. There’s a small chance that it might threaten Danny’s life, and with how much power it has over his body, it could make good on that threat. There’s also a chance that part of what enabled the possession to happen in the first place was a result of Danny being . . . if Danny’s accident was a lot worse and he’s actually, functionally brain dead, we could succeed but it might not matter since Danny might already be gone.”

“I don’t think Danny would want to have his body used as a puppet by some stupid ghost for the rest of his life on that chance, Jazz,” said Sam, and she was surprised when she felt Sam put a gentle hand on her back. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know, but–” She stopped, forcing herself to push away the tears. “Sorry, I’m just worried about my brother. I want to do what’s best and save him, but I don’t know how we can. This summoning thing already seems super risky, and I’m worried we’ll try it and it won’t work and then we’ll have to do the exorcism or whatever which might be worse, and I have no idea how we can figure out the name of this ghost, not if it happened just after the portal opened. There are thousands, if not millions, of spectral entities in the ghost zone.”

“Well, there might be one way,” said Sam, smiling mischievously. “We could try to capture Desiree.”

“Oh, no, the wishing ghost? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” groaned Tucker as Jazz glanced between the two of them. “That’s too dangerous.”

“But she could tell us the name. All we’d have to do is wish to know it,” said Sam. “And it’s been weeks since she last showed up, you know she’s gotta be long overdue for an attack. She might also be a good ghost to practice doing a summoning with, too, if we want to try and find her that way instead, but I’m not sure if Desiree is actually her true name or whatever.”

“We could also just wish for the ghost to stop possessing Danny, right?” said Jazz. Why go through all these other hoops if there was a ghost that could easily make this stop being such a nightmare? “Can she refuse to grant a wish?”

“No, she’s actively complained about being forced to grant every wish she hears - we heard her say it when Phantom wished her into a thermos once. I think the real problem is that she’ll probably try and twist whatever wish we make into something awful. I wouldn’t want to take the chance that she like, rips his soul out of him or something weird,” said Sam. Jazz didn’t believe in souls, per se, but she saw Sam’s point. “The name feels way lower risk, even if it doesn’t work out. She might figure out a way to twist that wish, but at least it might not be as bad.”

“And if she doesn’t show up or we can’t summon her?” asked Jazz. “Then what?”

“Then we try the ghost catcher thing instead, or get your parents involved and see if they have any ideas,” said Sam, looking sour at the idea of involving the Fentons. “We can keep looking, too, and see if there’s some other solution we can find.”

“We might not have long, though,” said Tucker. “That thing inside Danny knows that we know. It’s not going to leave us alone.”

“I kind of thought of that,” said Jazz as she reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of belts. “These are Specter Deflectors. My parents made them for Danny and I, and he refused to wear one and I never really did since . . . well, that’s doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t about to admit that she thought ghosts weren’t real or that the belt just looked stupid or that it seemed useless most of the time in ghost attacks since the ghosts rarely tried to touch anyone directly, the dangers usually coming from flying bits of tech or meat or some other thing around them. “But supposedly ghosts can’t touch you as long as you wear it. For now, it’s probably your best bet to stay safe. I can also try to get you an ecto gun, but the school might confiscate it.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look as they took the belts from her. “Thanks, but, uh, what about you?”

“Well, right now it doesn’t know that I know anything, and we’re going to keep it that way,” said Jazz as she stood up and tucked her notebook back into her bag. “I won’t tell my parents yet, either. I know they’d want to help, but I’m concerned they might be too worried about Danny to think logically about this.”

“And you’re not?” 

Jazz smiled weakly with her hand on the door knob. “It’s hard. When I first found the information about how to attempt the summoning and the stuff on exorcisms and I realized what you two must be thinking, I almost did it by myself. But for Danny’s sake, we have to be smart about this and we can’t just blindly rush in. Not if we want the best chance for him to survive it.”

“Then let’s try to capture Desiree.”

Chapter Text

“Do you think we should let her know?” asked Tucker as he took a bite of his sandwich. A few tables over, Valerie was sitting with Star and Danny, hands moving animatedly while she spoke. He saw the Not-Danny give a half-smile as he tucked his hands into his hoodie, barely eating his food.

It had been just over two weeks since the conversation with Jazz in his room. His leg was doing better and he could walk without his crutches now, although it still ached enough that Tucker wished his Mom would let him keep taking painkillers for it for a few more days. Mostly he was glad he could walk fast enough to avoid the Not-Danny. So far it continued to give him and Sam a wide berth, clearly aware that they wanted nothing to do with it, but Tucker doubted that would last long. It would be too risky to let them continue to run around unchecked as long as they knew the truth. 

At some point, the Not-Danny would make its move.

“About the Not-Danny?” sighed Sam. She rolled her eyes at the name at first, but within days both she and Jazz fell into using it. “No. The more people who know, the bigger the risk there is for everyone. Besides, I know Val carries around an ecto blaster, and she’s just as likely to shoot him in the face as she is to try and help us save Danny.”

“You’re probably right. Any updates on Desiree?” Sam shook her head. It was stupid to ask the question, of course - she would have told him immediately - but he found himself getting impatient. Worried. And, as he watched the Not-Danny interact with Val, maybe just a little bit jealous. He missed his best friend.

Tucker felt guilty they hadn’t put it together sooner, even though everything they read suggested that whatever ghost possessed Danny had full access to his thoughts, memories, feelings, and emotions. It would be able to perfectly mimic Danny with minimal effort, and it made Tucker wonder if there were more possessions out there than the ecto science community believed. After all, if it could blend in so seamlessly for so long while under the careful watch of a couple of ghost hunters, then it wasn’t really a stretch to think that other cases of possession might be right under their noses. Tucker’s dreams were filled with ghosts, mockeries of his friends and families as they were controlled by phantom figures, their cries echoing as they begged to know why he didn’t save them, didn’t help them, didn’t figure it out sooner . . . 

Normally Tucker had an appetite worthy of a champion eater, but today, he could barely take a bite of his sandwich and stuffed it back into his bag. Sam frowned at him as he stood up. “I forgot a book in my locker. I’ll meet you in class?”

“You sure you don’t want company?” Sam gave the barest hint of a nod at the Not-Danny.

“It’s fine. It seems too busy, and besides, I have the specter deflector,” he replied with a grin, holding up his shirt just a fraction to show it to her, but he took the long way out of the cafeteria, hoping the Not-Danny wouldn’t notice that he and Sam were both on their own. They tried to stick close together most days, but even Tucker needed a moment to breathe by himself sometimes, and Sam would be fine in a cafeteria full of other people. Tucker’s locker was on the other side of the building from his next-period class. He really did forget a book, but while he probably could have skated through class without it, being in the cafeteria felt suffocating as long as that thing wore his friend’s face.

As he walked through the mostly empty halls, he felt an uncomfortable tingling on the back of his neck. Tucker muttered under his breath and pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Sam to see if the Not-Danny was still in the cafeteria, hoping his uneasiness was just nerves and not someone or something stalking him. 

“C’mon, Sam,” he hissed softly as he watched his phone and continued his walk to his locker, occasionally glancing over his shoulder, but despite catching no glimpse of his stalker, he grew more and more certain he was being followed. The realization that they might be invisible struck then, and he swallowed as he muttered, “This isn’t fair.”

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” said someone, making him jump and drop his phone just as it buzzed with a text from Sam, and whipping around he saw Valerie standing behind him, her arms crossed as she scowled. “Can I have a word, Foley?”

“You on locker stuffing duty today instead of Dash?” he snapped, picking up his phone and checking the screen. Not cracked, thank goodness, and Sam’s message confirmed that the Not-Danny was still in the cafeteria. Of course, Tucker knew that now, but he felt his heartbeat slow down to a normal pace, reassured that at least he wasn’t about to be jumped by some awful ghost. “How the hell are you so sneaky?”

“Black belt,” she said as if that explained everything when it explained virtually nothing. “Look, I know it’s not really my business, but Danny’s been pretty depressed lately. Like, worse than usual since your friendship break-up a couple of weeks ago. And he says it’s fine and that he wants to give you space or whatever, but it’s clearly not fine, and I never took you and Manson as the type to bail on Danny like Paulina and the others did on me.”

The comparison stung, despite the reality of the situation. “This isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Isn’t it? He mentioned he opened up to you and Sam about something and that the two of you totally freaked and couldn’t accept it. Kind of sounds a lot like my ex-friends who couldn’t accept my being poor after my Daddy lost his job.” She tossed her curls over her shoulder as she fell into step beside him on the way to his locker. 

“It’s still not the same,” said Tucker. “I know it probably seems that way to you, but it’s not.”

Val rolled her eyes.“Fine. But look, I care about Danny a lot. He’s a good friend.”

“I can tell. You two seem pretty chummy lately.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice despite how much he wanted to. He hated feeling jealous of something that wasn’t even Danny abandoning him and Sam for Valerie, but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s a show,” said Val.

“So you’re not his friend? You’re just stringing him along for some reason?” snapped Tucker. His phone buzzed and glancing down he saw a text from Sam. The Not-Danny was on the move, apparently, but she didn’t think it was headed in his direction right now. Crud.

“Wow, you hold a grudge, don’t you?” she said, crossing his arms over her chest. “Because no, I’m not. I meant it’s a show on his part, not mine. The smiles, the laughs . . . it’s fake. I know what it’s like to put on a brave face when you’re hurting, and Danny’s hurting badly right now. He’ll never trust me the way he trusts you and Sam. He’s only sitting with me and Star because his only other option is to be alone, and right now, at least, I guess that’s worse. But at some point, that mask he’s wearing is going to get too heavy and I think he’ll stop talking even to me, and when that happens, I’m worried, Tucker. I just . . . I don’t want to see him do something stupid. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

The use of his first name jarred him, and as he walked over to his locker he spun the combination on auto-pilot. Although he knew Sam had suggested he not give a warning, well . . . he had to let her know something, right? Val was clearly super worried, and he genuinely believed that she cared deeply about Danny despite everything.  “Look, I promise you that we haven’t abandoned him. The things going on right now are way worse and way weirder than you think.”

Valerie chuckled as he pulled his missing book out of his locker and then slammed the door shut, his nerves getting the better of him. “Y’know, he said almost the exact same thing when I talked to him about it a couple of weeks ago. Kind of crazy how that–”

She stopped when suddenly her watch beeped. “Ghost?” he whispered, and Valerie nodded as she grabbed his hand and pulled him underneath the stairwell nearby and largely out of sight from the hallway. “Any idea who?” His stomach twisted into a knot. Her watch never picked up the Not-Danny before. It couldn’t have, or she would have noticed long ago that something was wrong with Danny even if Sam and Tucker hadn’t. But what ghost, then?

“I don’t know. I can’t tell that from my watch,” she whispered, fidgeting with it for a minute. “Why hasn’t the school alarm been triggered already? This one’s super close by. Maybe I should–” Suddenly her watch beeped again, and she scowled at it. “That’s gotta be Phantom. How the heck does he always know about the ghost attacks so quickly?”

Hiding behind the stairwell, Tucker listened and watched the hallway as best he could, peeking uneasily from beneath the stairs. About a minute went by before the ghost alarm finally went off, and the halls were filled with flashing lights and the sounds of the other students evacuating. “Come on,” said Val, grabbing his hand, and he shook his head, pulling back stubbornly. “What? Are you–you literally could’ve died in the attack a few weeks ago! What are you thinking?!”

“I need to find a ghost - Desiree,” he said quickly. “There’s a chance this is her.”

“Are you hoping to wish for a prom date, Foley, because that’s not a thing you want to ask her for. She’ll twist whatever wish you’re going to make,” said Val, pulling at his hand again, but he continued to resist. Barely, though. Val’s muscles were not for show. “Seriously?! Phantom’s already here, you’re not going to be able to–

“--I have to try!” he hissed. “You don’t get it! It’s for - it’s because of Danny, okay?! I promise I’ll explain after, just don’t force me to leave!”

Valerie stared at him for a moment before biting her lower lip and sitting back under the stairs. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an ecto gun along with what looked like a modified Fenton thermos. “You’ll start explaining now,” she demanded quietly as the number of kids in the hallway began to dwindle, and they crouched back further under the stairs to make sure they were out of sight of any passing teachers. She glanced at her watch uneasily, eyes on the two dots. 

So Tucker launched into an explanation he didn’t want to give about their theory around the Not-Danny, brushing past most of the critical points and boiling it down to the most basic parts. “Why not try wishing it out of him?” asked Valerie immediately, as if they hadn’t already considered it a dozen times, and Tucker pushed down the urge to scream and pull his own hair out as he tugged on his beret.

“We don’t know how strong the ghost in Danny is, and like you said, Desiree always tries to twist the wishes she grants,” whispered Tucker. “We don’t want to take the chance that she hurts Danny somehow or makes it worse.”

“But you all think you’re like masters of the occult? Sam attempted like a half-dozen seances and summonings and stuff that never worked in middle school and she never got it to work right,” said Val.

“How’d you know about that?” 

“She and Paulina and I all used to get stuck going to ritzy parties and each other’s sleepovers,” she shrugged. “We’d hang out sometimes because hanging out with our parents' rich friends was way worse. We did a lot of weird, dumb stuff back then. Paulina and I eventually grew out of it. Manson didn’t.”

Tucker tried hard not to roll his eyes at that even as he found himself grappling with the idea that Sam might have been friends with Paulina and Valerie once. She only started really hanging out with him and Danny during the last year of middle school. But despite what Val thought, there was no growing out of the paranormal, not in Amity Park, or at least not anymore. “Where are the ghosts?” The other students were gone, having all evacuated by now. No doubt Tucker and Val’s teachers were panicking since they weren’t at their class meeting spots. Poor Sam probably thought that the Not-Danny was murdering him in a closet, and realizing that, he pulled out his phone and sent her a quick text to let her know that he was fine and currently hiding with Valerie.

“They’re close. So be quiet, and be ready,” she instructed, and Tucker nodded as he watched Val aim the blaster carefully. It felt like they sat there for an eternity when suddenly a white and black streak went by and there was a loud smashing sound as something crunched into the nearby lockers. “Shit, that was Phantom.”

“Wait, seriously?” Tucker had no idea how she could tell - the blur was too fast for his eyes to follow - and he was halfway out from under the stairs when suddenly a giant, mechanical ghost with fiery green hair appeared in their line of sight. Skulker. Tucker never felt as foolish in his life as he did in that moment as the ghost locked eyes on the two of them. The likelihood of a ghost being Desiree–of any ghost being her–was too slim. This idea was appallingly stupid, and as Skulker gave them a wicked grin, he realized they both might be about to die for his mistake. 

“Stay there, whelps. This is not your fight. I come seeking a different prey today,” he said as he turned back towards the main hall and, if Val was right, to Phantom. Tucker wished that made him feel remotely better, but his heart continued to hammer away in his chest, his palms sweating uncomfortably. “I will have your pelt on my wall.”

“Unlikely,” replied Phantom curtly, the static crackling over his radio, and there was a brilliant flash of light as Phantom released a massive ecto blast, pushing Skulker backward as the hunter ghosts’s hastily constructed ecto shield shattered from the blast. For a moment there was silence, and then Tucker heard Skulker’s jets fire as he charged.

“I’ve been analyzing our fights,” he said, and Tucker peeked out just in time to see him fly at Phantom as the ghost readied another blast. Before Phantom could release it, Skulker grasped his wrist and forced it towards the ceiling with a horrible snapping sound, the ecto blast fizzling out. Tucker and Valerie both flinched as Phantom screamed, his voice echoing and static crackling in the dim hallway as Skulker chuckled. 

“I’ve noticed, prey, that you only attack with your left hand.” He smirked as he pushed the arm back harder, making Phantom cry out again in agony as his knees buckled beneath him,  and Tucker forced his hands over his own mouth as he tried to muffle his own cries. There was nothing he could do to help Phantom. He knew ecto blasters like Val’s would be lucky to make a dent in that armor. But he had to do something, didn’t he?

Didn’t he?

“It’s the little tear in your glove. That’s the only outlet for your powers, isn’t it? Everything else is blocked by the suit, which means that if I immobilize you there, then you can’t do anything.” Skulker leaned in closer, then, and with his free hand, he smashed a fist hard into Phantom’s face shield and the permanently broken respirator. “My employer would love it if I would bring you to him. You’re quite the curiosity, and I have to admit, prey, that even I want to know what’s under that hood.”

Please, please escape, Tucker mentally pleaded as he looked around, desperate for something that would let him help. He didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t sit here and keep letting Phantom be tortured, and from the muffled sobs coming over the radio, Tucker could tell he wasn’t doing so good.  Was this what Danny felt like when he heard the sounds of his parents hunting ghosts and then experimenting on them  in their basement?

No, the Not-Danny. The real Danny had never heard it or was too suppressed for Tucker to know what he thought about it. But still, Tucker needed to do something . He didn’t believe most of the ghosts were good, but Phantom saved them countless times. If any ghost deserved his assistance, just once, it was him.

“I’m going to shoot him in the back. You stay here,” hissed Val, her thinking surprisingly in sync with his own, but at least she had a way to make a difference. Unlike him. Why was he always so useless?

“What? I thought you hated Phantom!”

“I don’t trust Phantom, but he’s our best chance at getting out of this alive. I don’t think my blaster will do much to Skulker, but it might distract him long enough for Phantom to break free,” she whispered, and Tucker nodded as he followed her. She rolled her eyes, but continued to carefully sneak into the hall behind Skulker, holding up a finger for him to stay back. As she did, he noticed something odd creeping from the tear in Phantom’s glove and rapidly down the arm of his suit. It looked like weird, glowing, bluish white vines. Ice, maybe? So far Skulker hadn’t noticed it as he pulled back a fist and slammed it hard into Phantom’s face shield again. The surface cracked as the static roared over Phantom’s radio for a moment before going silent, making Tucker wince as Valerie lined up her shot and fired.

Valerie aimed perfectly, hitting Skulker directly in the back of his thick skull, but as Tucker suspected, it didn’t do a damn thing. The ghost turned and smirked at her, his hand never letting go of Phantom’s wrist. “Sorry, whelp, but it’ll take more than a pathetic little blaster to stop me from collecting my prize at long last.”

“As if you could ever be strong enough,” hissed Phantom, his voice echoing in the hallway and sounding wrong, somehow, and then it clicked. The static was gone, Phantom’s radio broken. Skulker’s blows successfully cracked Phantom’s face shield, breaking off pieces and leaving large cracks. Greenish smoke hissed out from the cracks  as Phantom’s eyes glowed an eerie, pale blue, and it was only then that Skulker finally noticed that the ice that had been creeping up Phantom’s own arm now encased his own.

The ice suddenly crystallized, sharply and perfectly, before shattering like a tree exploding in the middle of winter. Skulker’s arm fell to pieces to the ground with Phantom’s glove, but Phantom’s hand, at least, appeared to still be intact as blue mist swirled around it. Howling, Skulker jerked backward, almost stepping on Valerie before she nimbly dodged out of the way, and then Phantom slammed his exposed hand through Skulker’s chest plate.

Everyone in school had always heard the rumors that the real Skulker was nothing more than a tiny little blob ghost, but before this moment Tucker had never seen it for himself. Skulker shrieked as Phantom carefully plucked him out and sucked him up with his thermos while the metal suit crashed to the ground and smashed to bits. 

“You both okay?” Phantom asked as Tucker helped Valerie to her feet. 

“Are you seriously asking us if we’re okay after all that? You’re the one that’s hurt!” Tucker gestured at Phantom’s arm hanging limply at his side. Despite the cracks in his face shield, Tucker struggled to get a good look at his face, but he caught the faintest hint of snowy, white hair and intense green eyes. His exposed hand, though . . . he’d never seen anything quite like it. It looked like Phantom had dipped it into the night sky and pulled the inky darkness and tiny, blinking stars onto his own skin like a glaze, and the blue mist he saw coming off it a minute ago was now the same green as the smoke leaking from his helmet. The palm of his hand was a swirling galaxy in miniature with glowing threads trailing like lightning up his arm as far as he could see, and his claw-like fingers sent a shiver down his spine. Like most of the students at Casper, Tucker always imagined that underneath the hood would be someone human, not whatever this was.

Tucker forced down a shudder. People thought Sam looked creepy and judged her harshly for it despite most of her free time being spent reading and writing poetry, organizing rallies to save animals, and doing what she could to help the planet. If he could give Sam the benefit of the doubt, he could do the same for Phantom, especially since despite how creepy it looked there was still something oddly familiar about the ghost that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Valerie, though . . . he watched as she stepped closer and reached out, surprised at how gentle she was. “How bad is it?”

“Partially dislocated shoulder, I think,” he mumbled.  “I almost threw up. Can’t imagine doing that inside a hazmat suit would be pleasant.”

“Ghosts can throw up?” He could see a small smile around the broken respirator as Phantom laughed softly.

“Maybe? I don’t actually know if I can. It just felt like I would,” he said. His voice sounded so young. Through the radio it was always hard to tell and because of the hazmat suit everyone assumed he was an adult that died in some chemical spill or something, but now? He couldn’t have been much older than him or Valerie.  Just how young was he when he died? Eighteen? Maybe twenty, at best? “Thanks for, um, distracting Skulker like that, Valerie, but I wouldn’t recommend jumping into a fight again. You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

Valerie sighed as she crossed her arms in front of her. “I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t let him keep hurting you like that.”

“But I’m a ghost. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, though - even if you can’t die again, it definitely hurts, right?” said Tucker as he walked forward and then stopped just before touching his hand. The specter deflector was still on, and if he touched him, no doubt it would injure Phantom. For the first time since he was injured, though, Phantom glanced down at his exposed arm. Phantom flinched away from them, his hand twitching as he stared at it.

“Oh . . . oh . . .” he whispered, gently rubbing the spot on his palm, and something about the familiar gesture nagged at him but he couldn’t place it.  “I . . . um . . . sorry, it’s just–I’ve never–I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That underneath it, that my hand and stuff . . . it’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?” His voice raised in pitch as he chuckled uncomfortably, and if Tucker didn’t know better, he would almost swear that Phantom was starting to have a panic attack. Didn’t he say he experienced them before when he helped Sam? Tucker couldn’t remember.

“Dude, that’s not even like the fifth creepiest thing I’ve seen this week.” Tucker smiled, a futile effort to cheer him up, but he had to try. If nothing else, that, at least, was something he could do. “Seriously, are you gonna be okay? Is there, like, a ghost doctor we should call or something?”

“No-no, I’m fine,” stuttered Phantom. “And, um, Valerie? Thanks again for the save. I do appreciate it even if I wouldn’t recommend doing it twice.”

“If you really appreciate it, maybe you can help us with something,” said Val. “We need help for a friend. We think he’s possessed, but we don’t know the name of the ghost doing it.”

Phantom was silent for a long time, then, and as Tucker watched the weird energy around his hands began to slowly dissipate, the claw-like hand becoming more human-like by the minute. “Possessions are rare. Ghosts need a sympathetic host.”

“You mean like Danny wanted this to happen?” blurted out Tucker, and Phantom flinched. 

“Danny? As in Danny Fenton ?” 

“Yeah, he–look, we know it sounds crazy, but it makes sense. Kind of.” He felt so sure, but Phantom’s reaction unsettled him. Maybe possession was as hard as the Fentons and the ecto scientist community thought after all.

“How? His parents are world-renowned ghost hunters. They would have noticed,” said Phantom. 

“Not if they didn’t want to notice it,” said Val quietly. “Kind of like me.” 

For some reason, Phantom seemed to give this statement much more weight than Tucker expected, and eventually the ghost sighed. “Listen . . . when I say sympathetic, I don’t necessarily mean that Danny wanted to become possessed. It just means his body was a good host candidate for the ghost that attempted it. Depending on how long this has been happening, removing the ghost might not be possible. You could end up hurting or killing your friend in the attempt.”

“We know, but the alternative is worse, isn’t it? Being a puppet inside your own body or whatever while that ghost does who knows what? No offense, but that sounds like a nightmare,” said Tucker. “We’ve talked about it a lot. If we could ask Danny what he wants us to do, we would, but we can’t. And his parents, well, getting them involved seems worse. They love him and their intentions are good, but, uh, y’know. Road to hell and all that.”

“But for us to figure this out, we need Desiree,” said Val. “No one has seen her in weeks. Have you?”

Phantom went quiet again for a minute, and when he finally spoke it wasn’t an answer to their question at all. “She’ll twist your wish, you know. You’ll just hurt Danny.”

“We’re not going to ask her to end the possession. Just a name, and then we can use that to free Danny,” said Tucker. “And maybe she’ll find a way to twist that, but we don’t have a better option unless you know the name of the ghost possessing Danny or know some other way to fix possession that doesn’t involve his parents.”

“Even just a name . . . you don’t . . . Are you sure this is really what you want to do?” Phantom glanced down at his hand again. At this point it looked mostly like an ordinary human hand outside of the strange, swirling galaxy on his palm and the glowing, fern-like scar spreading up from it. 

“It’s the only thing we’ve got,” said Val.

“Danny’s my friend. I’d risk pretty much everything for him,” added Tucker. 

Phantom studied them for a moment before he grasped at the strap around his neck holding his thermos. Unclipping it, he held it out to the two of them. “She’s in here. I caught her this morning at a car dealership. Skulker’s in there, too, but he shouldn’t be too much of a threat without his suit. You should make sure you figure out a way to properly contain Desiree, though, if you’re really going to go through with this.”

“Thank you, Phantom,” said Valerie. 

“Don’t thank me. This won’t end the way that you think,” he snapped as he turned away from them, but then he paused. “I am sorry, though. About Danny.”

“You don’t need to be worried about him. We’re going to save him,” said Tucker with a confidence he did not truly feel.

“No,” said Phantom as he walked away and disappeared, but his last words echoed ominously through the hallway as the ghost alarm ceased at last. “You won’t.”

Chapter Text

Valerie stood by in silence, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against a lab bench covered in dozens of research notes. Nearby, the portal was shut tight, a pair of massive, metal doors that were coated in some kind of ectoplasmic resistant material preventing any ghosts from coming through. More than a dozen people on the city council, school board, and other committees had asked the Fentons to shut down the portal so the ghost attacks would stop, but the Fentons proved more than once that it was pointless. The damage from the unnatural gateway was already done, permanently weakening the barrier between their worlds, and natural portals popped up regularly throughout Amity Park whether the portal was activated or not.

Danny’s parents were sweet, but they were often careless, putting others at risk despite their good intentions. It was a trait they shared in common with their son, or so she thought.

“So why didn’t you try to summon Desiree?” she asked as she watched Jazz get the containment field ready. This was their only shot to talk to Desiree in a controlled setting, since Danny and his parents were meeting with some folks at school about a possible IEP for him for the next hour or so.

Sam glanced at Tucker and Jazz uneasily. “We, uh, actually did, but it didn’t work. My best guess is that it’s probably because Desiree isn’t her real name.”

“Or you don’t know what you’re doing,” muttered Val, tossing some of her curls over her shoulder. 

“Oh, like you do?” snapped Sam. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a better idea from you about how to fix this. I’d love to hear it now, if you’ve got it.”

“If I had a better idea, I wouldn’t be here.” She hated admitting it, but since Phantom handed over Desiree two days ago, Valerie had no luck finding a different solution. Even her benefactor couldn’t help. Val hadn’t given Mr. Masters a lot of details about it since she knew he was an old friend of the Fentons and would tell Danny’s parents immediately if he knew the truth. She only told him she stumbled across a case of possession, and his response was that they would be unlikely to save the host but that she should still try, anyway, since granting the host relief from the ghost possessing it would be a mercy. She knew he was right, but she hadn’t shared the information with the others, worried they would stop her if they knew. 

Plus, Sam and Tucker and Jazz were right that Danny’s parents were overzealous and would probably cause more harm than good here and that any chance of saving Danny would be out the window if they became involved, but at this point as Valerie watched the others prepare, she wasn’t fully convinced that they would do any better on their own. 

Yet for Valerie, that wasn’t the hardest part of all of this. No, it was realizing that someone she cared about, who she might’ve even seriously liked at a level beyond any other boy she ever dated, wasn’t actually Danny. If he was possessed back when his accident happened, then she never met the real Danny, only the ghost pretending to be him. And the thought that she might have loved a ghost controlling some poor teenager’s body against his will . . . She threw up a few times that night and sobbed hard enough that her Dad almost brought her to the hospital thinking she was seriously ill. It wasn’t her fault. She knew it wasn’t. But being with someone without their consent, even if there was no way for her to know what was happening? She knew it wasn’t her fault, not really, but it still made her feel like a monster. It never went beyond making out, but did it need to for it to hurt him? Would Danny, the real Danny, even be willing to hear an apology from her or want to be near her if they managed to save him?

“Great. Since you don’t have a better idea, then please shut up and stay out of the way unless you can figure out a way to help,” snapped Sam. 

“Sam . . . that’s a little–” began Tucker, but Sam turned on him, fists balled at her side. 

“--hey, I didn’t even want her to know about all of this, remember?! But then you had to literally spill everything to her after she fed you some sob story about Danny being depressed and abandoned or whatever, and–”

“--and now we have someone who is a better shot with an ecto blaster than my Mom watching our backs in case this containment field fails,” interrupted Jazz, giving Valerie a half-smile. Valerie always liked Danny’s older sister. Jazz could be a bit nosy, but she always had her brother’s best interest at heart, and unlike his parents Jazz could be careful when needed. “Seriously, we can’t be arguing amongst ourselves or the ghost will find a way to use that against us. So let’s stop rehashing the past and focus on what we can do now together. For Danny. Please?”

Valerie watched as Sam deflated. “Fine. For Danny.”

“For Danny,” Valerie and Tucker muttered together, nodding in unison at their pact, and then the containment field sprang to life. It wasn’t much - just a small cell with a ghost shield hovering around it along with a place to insert the thermos, and Jazz carefully input the device into the slot.

“Ready, everyone?” she asked, and they gave an affirmative as she gently pushed the button to expel the ghosts from within. There was a puff of greenish smoke as Skulker and Desiree materialized within the chamber, looking disoriented only for a moment before they noticed the field and the four of them standing outside of it.

“Oh, great. Have the Fentons resorted to using children to conduct their experiments?” grumbled Desiree as she floated, her bracelets jangling slightly.

“If you’re expecting us to mate, I have a girlfriend,” added Skulker..

“Oh, did you finally ask out Ember?”

“Yes, a few months ago now, but–”

“--hey, we’re not here to listen to you chat about your love life or whatever,” interrupted Tucker as he gave a small signal to Jazz. They had all agreed ahead of time that Jazz would be the one to do the talking, but so far Danny’s sister seemed frozen on the spot.

“Um . . . Desiree, right?” said Jazz uneasily. Crap. Valerie could see her shaking slightly from here, nerves clearly getting to her. She wouldn’t step in at this point–she still felt like Jazz could probably handle it–but she realized that of the people in this room, Valerie was the only one with extensive experience with ghosts. She couldn’t tell the others that without revealing her secret, but a tiny part of her wished she had so that she could conduct this interrogation instead.

“Oh, good grief,” grumbled Desiree as she crossed her arms. “Yes, and?”

“Listen . . . Um . . . Do you know my brother? Danny Fenton?” Tucker, Sam, and Valerie shared a puzzled look. This definitely wasn’t how this was supposed to go. The point was to make the wish and get it over with so they couldn’t be manipulated by her, but Jazz was approaching this like she was trying to connect with a troubled teen she met through tutoring. 

“Yes, and if he were here he’d let us out,” said Skulker. “So perhaps you should consider doing the same, child.”

“He’s right, you know. The boy brought me a gift on my death day. I didn’t even think humans knew about such traditions,” added Desiree, and Valerie felt her stomach twist into a knot. A tiny, tiny part of her continued to remain unconvinced that Danny was possessed, and yet she’d seen nothing but more signs since Tucker told her. And this, knowing about some ghost culture thing or whatever, just added more evidence to the rapidly growing pile.

And from the looks in the room, she clearly wasn’t the only one who realized it, but at least Jazz seemed to recover quickly. “He is very thoughtful,” she said slowly. “But that’s why we need your help. I . . . well, we want to make a wish that will help him.”

“Since you’re Danny’s sister, let me be very honest with you,” said Desiree, approaching the edge of the cage and leaning forward as if she were speaking to a very small child. “That’s not how my wishes work.”

“But it must be up to you, right? It’s your power,” argued Jazz. “And–”

“--you truly don’t understand us at all,” sighed Desiree, and Valerie flinched. The statement was a painful reminder of Phantom’s own warning to them, one that Valerie fought to brush aside but that continued to nag at her.

‘She’ll twist your wish, you know. You’ll just hurt Danny.’

Valerie began to walk towards Jazz so she could pull her and the others aside to talk, when suddenly Sam spoke up. “We wish to know the true name of the ghost possessing Daniel Fenton.” Valerie, Jazz, and Tucker glanced over at her and she shrugged. “What? Since Jazz deviated from the plan, so can I.”

Desiree and Skulker gave each other a look and laughed, which was not the reaction Valerie was expecting or hoping for. “You think there’s a ghost possessing him, whelp?” chuckled Skulker. “Unbelievable. A single human shows us a modicum of decency and his kind think he must be under the control of another ghost.”

“It’s not that, Mister Skulker. He had a death echo,” said Jazz calmly, and the two ghosts stopped, staring at her. Valerie had to resist the urge to smack herself at the title, but maybe if Jazz at least pretended to be sympathetic, too, the ghosts would stop mocking them.  “Um, maybe you have a different word for it, but . . . he talked about his accident and it was like it was happening. That’s not something that happens with humans. Only ghosts.”

“You know that if I grant your wish - and you’re wrong about this - I will have to find a way to make it true,” she said, and Valerie frowned. From her previous interactions with Desiree, she knew the ghost had to grant every wish she heard, regardless of whether she wanted to or not. Both she and Phantom used that weakness to trap her within the thermos or send her back to the Ghost Zone a few times. Desiree wasn’t supposed to have a choice in the matter, yet here she was, refusing to grant it.

And for the second time that day, Phantom’s words echoed through her mind. ‘Ghosts aren’t as beholden to their obsessions as you might think. It’s more complicated than that. We’re more complicated than that.’

Desiree was obsessed with fulfilling the desires of others, even if it hurt her or she ended up worse for it. So why go against her obsession for Danny? Was it just because they were right about him being possessed and she didn’t want to lose that advantage? That didn’t seem quite right. Not exactly. She bit her lip, silently wishing to herself that she spent more time talking to the ghosts (or at least Phantom) if only to be in a better position to help Danny now. The two ghosts were being way less talkative since Jazz mentioned the death echo, and she suspected they knew something that the rest of them didn’t. 

“Um, guys? Maybe we should talk for a minute?” suggested Tucker, waving them over, and Sam rolled her eyes as they gathered in the furthest corner of the lab away from the ghosts.

“C’mon, Tucker, they’re just manipulating us,” said Sam immediately. “Isn’t that obvious? Danny being possessed is a good deal for them. It means that they have someone that’ll keep letting them out of traps, sabotaging the Fenton’s tech, and doing who knows what other kind of damage.”

“I don’t know, Sam. They seemed genuinely surprised by the idea that Danny was possessed,” said Jazz, glancing over her shoulder as the two ghosts spoke to each other quietly behind them. “Isn’t it at least possible that something else might be going on here?”

“Desiree is resisting granting the wish - there’s definitely something going on here, since her obsession pushes her to grant every wish she hears,” sighed Valerie. “I agree with Sam that it does kind of make sense that they wouldn’t want Danny to stop being possessed because of all the advantages it gives them, but something just seems . . . off.”

“But there’s no other explanation for the death echo, is there?” said Tucker, looking at Jazz, and she shook her head.

“Not that I could find. It doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist, though. Maybe we should rethink this. There might be something we missed.”

“Guys, if we stand here all day discussing hypotheticals, then we’ll lose our chance to learn the truth. The whole point of not getting into a conversation with those ghosts was so that we wouldn’t be manipulated, remember?” Sam pointed a thumb at the ghosts behind them. “And now they’re colluding and doing who-knows-what to keep that manipulation going and to keep us from helping Danny.”

Valerie’s instincts were screaming at her that not everything was as clear cut as Sam made it out to be. Her gut kept her safe dozens of times in the past. What she really wanted, more than anything, was more time, since she was sure they were missing something and that she could figure out what that was if she had more than a few minutes to work through it. Danny’s situation probably wouldn’t get worse if it took another day or two to puzzle things out, but that explanation wouldn’t sit well with Sam. Even if everyone else decided not to make the wish, Valerie knew Sam would. She felt the same guilt Valerie did for not figuring out just how wrong things were with Danny sooner, and sometimes, Sam could be infinitely more reckless than any of them.

And so, against her better instinct, she sighed, “I think we might be missing something here, but we should still go through with it. Even if Danny’s not possessed and she makes him possessed or whatever as part of the wish, we’ll still have the name. Practically, it doesn’t really change much, right?”

“Right,” agreed Jazz. 

“But it does. It’ll mean we deliberately hurt our friend, then, if we’re wrong,” said Tucker. “I don’t think that makes it okay.”

“But can we take the risk that we’re wrong?” Tucker and Sam locked eyes for a moment, a silent communication going between them, and as Tucker lowered his head Valerie knew Sam won the argument.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Turning back, Valerie watched as Jazz approached the ghosts and took a deep breath. “I appreciate your warning, but we’re still doing this,” she said. “I wish to know the name of the ghost inside my brother, Daniel Fenton.”

“So you have wished it, so shall it be.” A puff of smoke appeared around her and a piece of paper materialized in the cell. Without waiting, Tucker walked over and stuck the thermos back in, sucking the two ghosts inside so they could open the door to the containment field safely. As soon as the ghosts were gone, Valerie went in and picked up the paper. Emblazoned across it was a single word: Phantom.

And her mind felt as if it split, rapidly processing what it meant.

It made sense, she realized. She always wondered how Phantom could appear and disappear from her tracker so easily when she never saw him create a portal to the Ghost Zone, but if he was hiding inside of Danny Fenton, then he wouldn’t have to. Her tracker wasn’t sensitive enough to pick up on ghostly possessions - no tech of that sort was. Only a longer, high-level scan could.

And the scar on Danny’s palm from his portal accident. The one that lined up perfectly with the tear in Phantom’s glove, that was the singular outlet for Phantom’s powers as long as his suit was intact. Phantom mentioned how a ghost would need a perfect host, one that had qualities that matched it, and while she hadn’t assumed he meant physical ones it was clearly part of it. 

“Valerie? Who is it?” She wordlessly handed the paper over, shaking her head. 

This was why he dated her, wasn’t it? Phantom knew she was the Red Huntress. Knew she loathed ghosts, despised them. So he pretended to be sweet, caring Danny Fenton. Hopeless idealist who argued with her about how the ghosts weren’t so bad, actually. That they deserved to be treated with dignity. Respect. 

Who had been Phantom, in reality, hoping to disarm his most powerful foe.

“I don’t understand,” said Tucker, the first to break the silence after the others read the name. “Why would he give us the thermos if he knew this would happen?”

Her mind slammed to a stop at Tucker’s question. “What?”

“He knows, right? That we’re going to try to end the possession?” said Tucker. “And it’s not like he thought we wanted it for someone else. Phantom knew we wanted it for Danny. So why give it to us?”

“He might just know it’s game over at this point and figures we’re a better option than a ghost hunter,” suggested Sam, which sounded perfectly reasonable to Valerie, except that Phantom knew she was a ghost hunter. One that spent most of the last year and a half or so since he first appeared hating Phantom. He knew how Valerie would react if she found out. How she itched to don her suit, find the creep and–and–

And what then? She didn’t know if attacking Phantom would harm Danny. There were a lot of things they didn’t understand about how this all worked. Did he leave Danny’s body somewhere, unoccupied, while he fought? Or was Danny trapped underneath that suit, hidden beneath some bizarre, ectoplasmic construct? Had she hurt him before, when she shot at Phantom?

“That’s not it,” mumbled Valerie as she sat down on the ground, and although she didn’t intend to, she found herself confessing, too shell-shocked to stop the words from tumbling out.“I’m a ghost hunter. He knows that.”

The three of them were staring at her, but she ignored it as she held out her arm and donned just the sleeve of her suit. There was a gasp and a couple of quick exclamations, but she barely registered it as she withdrew it a moment later and slumped forward, letting her head rest on her knees, and after a moment she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Valerie?” Jazz, of course. She was worried about her, she could tell, but Valerie felt sick. Why did it have to be him? Why Phantom and not some other ghost? “We don’t know that Phantom’s been possessing Danny this entire time, right? Desiree said she would make it happen no matter what.”

“We do, though,” she said. “Phantom has an uncanny ability to disappear from trackers and reappear almost like magic. I thought he might’ve figured out a way to make portals to the ghost zone, but no one’s ever seen him do it and it’s an incredibly rare talent amongst ghosts. I just . . . I don’t understand, I thought . . . he . . .” 

“You thought what?”

She thought she was starting to trust him. But of course that was the point, wasn’t it? She spent all this time wondering what his plan was, what scheme he was getting up to, and this was it. He convinced her to give him a chance, to make a permanent truce, so he could do . . . what? 

“He’s been trying to get me to trust him for a long time, and he clearly used your brother as part of that plan,” said Valerie as she wiped away a few tears. She didn’t even know when she started crying. “You want to know what I want? I want to destroy that creep for making me think I could trust him. But I don’t want to hurt the real Danny if there’s still any chance to save him.”

“So you’ll help us with the summoning?” asked Sam, and Valerie nodded, knowing that if it failed, she was probably the only one that would be willing to take down Phantom even if it meant Danny wouldn’t survive.

Chapter Text

It was five days after he handed over the thermos that Danny felt the summoning. 

He could resist, easily, if he so chose. Since the summoning wasn’t being performed correctly, there was no obligation to respond, to follow the thread through the door. But Valerie was a part of this, and if he refused, then he knew she would come looking for Phantom with guns drawn.

Danny didn’t know how to salvage this. Handing over the thermos was stupid, not least of all because Desiree still might have twisted their wish into something awful even if he hadn’t the effects noticed yet, but he couldn’t leave Desiree in a thermos forever. Not handing her over would only stall the inevitable, and he doubted he could come up with a better solution even if he had more time. He spent countless hours wracking his brain, desperate for a solution ever since he slipped up with Sam and Tucker nearly a month ago, wondering what they thought, what they knew, what they suspected. Danny never guessed possession was even on the table, but it was convenient. If Desiree only gave them his true name or said it was Phantom possessing him, then at best, it would solve the problem, his friends likely to move on once the summoning was over with and they assumed everything was fixed. At worst, it would at least buy him a little more time to figure something else out instead.

But the same part of him that opened up to Tucker and Sam about his accident, that nudged him to hand over the thermos despite knowing it could just as easily ruin everything for him, ached to tell them the truth. To let them know everything. The months since his accident were intensely lonely and exhausting. Breaking promise after promise to his teachers, his family, his friends . . . He knew it was destroying him, bit by bit. Fenton was a metaphorical ghost. Phantom, an outcast, despised by most of the ghosts and people in Amity Park. There was no one in his life that knew the truth - no ghost, no human, no half-ghost. He told himself it was safer that way. That it let him do things he otherwise couldn’t do, like try to befriend the ghosts as Danny Fenton and handle the ones that refused to play nice as Phantom. That not telling his friends and family kept them out of harm’s way–although a nasty voice whispered on and on about Tucker’s injury, caused by him despite his best efforts to keep everyone he loved as far away from his life as Phantom as possible. 

Really, he knew the biggest reason he kept it a secret was knowing that no one could accept him for what he was. No one would want to be near him again if they ever learned the truth, especially if they saw what was beneath the Hazmat suit. Danny wasn't sure that even he could accept it. He always assumed the worst, that beneath the suit his body might be scarred or broken or worse, but that–that was by far, far worse than anything he imagined. He didn’t even look human.

But if he did take that chance and show up as Danny Fenton to the summoning, then maybe they would realize he wasn’t possessed. How much time would he have before they figured out they got it wrong and tried something else? Wouldn’t it be better to tell them the truth now? Fenton would also give him an easier escape route if things went south - he had access to more powers and abilities than he did as Phantom, even if they weren’t as strong. But it would mean admitting that everything he did up until this point, all the sacrifices he made, were pointless, and there was always a chance that they would assume the worst. That Danny Fenton was completely dead, his face a hateful disguise he wore to hide the fact he was a ghost and not a living, breathing human. Confessing the truth was a risk he couldn’t take, much as he desperately longed to do so, and if (when) they realized their possession theory was wrong . . . well, hopefully he would have a better plan for how to deal with it by then.

And so, terrified as his world crashed down around him, he transformed into Phantom and answered the summoning.

The room he arrived in was dark, filled with light from nothing but the small white candles in a circle around him. He recognized it after a moment as Sam’s theater room, of all places - the comfy, massive chairs were pushed up against the walls, the game systems likely tucked away behind the bar, and the projector screen was up. He remembered the last time he sat in this room a few months ago. That was a particularly nasty day - he only made it fifteen minutes through the movie before he sensed a ghost and left, his friends arguing with him and yelling and almost ending their friendship for good then. A tiny, tiny part of him wished they did, since he knew what they did not: this summoning, despite their hopes, wouldn’t fix a thing. They were only prolonging the inevitable.

“Don’t move an inch, Phantom,” said Val, and blinking he saw her decked out in her Red Huntress gear while Sam sat cross-legged outside the circle, sweat beading on her forehead from the exertion. Successful summonings for ordinary humans were rare but exhausting, and he hoped she didn’t push herself too hard or hurt herself attempting to call him. But he was surprised (and weirdly a little jealous) to see Val there suited up - when did she tell them she was the Red Huntress? She never even told him when the two of them were dating. Then again, maybe he didn’t have a right to be upset about his friends somehow knowing the truth about her, since it wasn’t as if he ever risked telling Val the truth about himself, either.

There were at least two others here, too, that he couldn’t see but that he could hear breathing as they listened from behind the bar. At least one must be Tucker. He didn’t know who the second one was, though, and that worried him. Who else knew? Star? She was Valerie’s best friend, but it seemed unlikely since Danny was pretty sure she didn’t know about Val being a ghost hunter. Vlad? He seriously hoped not. Keeping the creep at arm’s length was hard enough without him knowing the truth about Danny, too. One of his parents? That might be even worse, but he doubted it. He couldn’t imagine them hiding while Valerie and Sam risked themselves here, and there was no chance of his Mom and Dad doing a summoning anywhere outside of their own lab.

“Phantom. You actually came.” She pointed a blaster at him. “Consider this my warning.”

“Breaking our truce again? I told you humans couldn’t keep promises. You should stop making them,” His voice echoed through the room, full of static as it crackled through the radio, the light from his green eyes reflecting in the corner of his face shield. Even before his fight with Skulker, his Hazmat suit felt uncomfortable, both too small and almost itchy. The moment it broke it felt better for a brief moment, but once he transformed again and the suit was repaired, the feeling quickly came back. Danny suspected he knew what it meant, but it worried him nevertheless. Not for the first time, he silently wished there was someone, human or ghost, that he could trust enough with his secret to risk going to for help.

“We’re not going to let you back into Danny Fenton,” she said, refusing to be goaded. “You had to know that when you gave us that thermos.”

He blinked. This wasn’t how he expected this to go. Why hadn’t she simply shot him or sucked him up into a thermos yet? What did she honestly expect him to say? “I didn’t have to answer your summons, either. You don’t have my true name. You aren’t a liminal.”

“We didn’t?” said Val.

“A what?” asked Sam at the same time. She sounded exhausted, as if she recently ran a marathon, her words barely a whisper.

“Seriously? My true name isn’t Phantom, Val. And a liminal is someone with a foot in the world of the dead and the world of the living,” he explained. “Who can act as a bridge between the worlds, speak to the dead, and sometimes exist as either or both.” Like him. Like Vlad. Maybe Valerie, too, because of her weird, ghostly suit, but he didn’t dare bring up the suggestion that she might be, both since he wasn’t completely convinced and because he didn’t need to give his ex another reason to shoot him.

But he and Vlad were the most extreme cases of liminals that Danny ever encountered, and even as he half-confessed the truth to his friends, he doubted they truly understood what he meant. Other liminals were still incredibly rare, and most of them held much weaker connections to the world of the dead. Regular liminals could barely sense the presence of shades and couldn’t manipulate ectoplasm.  He suspected it was because of the portals or rifts that created him versus the other liminals - the difference between a small, natural, unstable portal and a massive, permanent, and stable one built upon a pre-existing weak point - but there was no one he could ask about it, no way to test the theory. 

“Generally, you need a liminal to summon a ghost along with their true name. If you don’t have both, then it’s up to the ghost to decide if it wants to come or not, and your circle has no power to bind anything.” Although it was risky, he took the chance and raised his left hand into the air and allowed it to cross the boundary of the circle as he charged up a small ectoblast before letting it flicker out of existence, and a sharp pain ran through his fingertips as he extinguished it, the power not wanting to fade away quietly. More confirmation that he was right. The ecto resistant properties of the suit were useful, but it was blocking his powers too much. He would need to burn the excess energy off later before it hurt him, and he tried to suppress the really nightmarish image of himself burning up inside the suit if he couldn’t. That wasn’t how it worked. That couldn’t be how it worked. Right?

Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady, though, as he continued and pulled his hand back inside the circle. “Summoning me without my name and without a liminal was incredibly stupid. And if you think I’m powerless right now, think again.”

There was a sudden flurry behind the bar as the two people hiding behind it jumped up, ecto blasters whining to life as they pointed them at him. Had they been watching him on a camera? Just listening in? It didn’t matter. Who was it? Tucker was one of them, his hands shaking as he aimed the weapon at Danny,  and . . . oh. 

Jazz. 

His sister. He should’ve known. Jazz kept acting weird lately, but he thought it was anxiety over college application decisions or maybe learning about him hanging out with the ghosts sometimes, not because of this mess. At least it wasn’t Vlad or his parents, but seeing Jazz there made his core twinge painfully. Despite his best efforts, he kept ruining people’s lives, pulling them away from the things that really mattered. She shouldn’t be here, worrying about him. His life, his future, none of it mattered. Not compared to hers. Not compared to any of theirs, really. 

“You might not be powerless, but Sam and I brought friends,” said Valerie. “Jazz and Tucker, specifically. I’m sure you recognize them after all this time. The people you lied to. Whose best friend and brother you stole away, whose life you ruined for nearly two years.”

Danny blinked, his mind struggling to comprehend what she said. Two years? That would mean . . . “ You think I’ve been possessing him since the portal accident? ” 

“We did our research,” said Jazz. “Possession isn’t like overshadowing - it’s complex. It takes time. The victims are usually comatose when it happens, and when the possession first starts, their memories are patchy because it takes a while for the ghost to fully assimilate its host's thoughts and memories. That’s exactly what happened to Danny after his accident, and what better time to make an attempt than when you saw my poor, unconscious brother lying helpless on the floor of our lab?”

She was crying, now, her hands trembling as she pointed the blaster at him, and Danny forced himself to resist the urge to go over and comfort her. To tell her everything, despite knowing she wouldn’t believe a word because he knew all of them already believed they figured it all out, that this was the answer to everything. His friends and sister sat with the lies they wove for too long to want to hear the truth. 

“You manipulated all of us,” said Tucker. “I couldn’t understand why my best friend didn’t care about us anymore. I thought I did something wrong. That we did something wrong. But it wasn’t us, it never was. It was you. I can’t believe I ever defended you. Valerie was right. You’re a monster. You were just using us and tricking everyone to work secretly against the Fentons while they tried to protect us.”

Static crackled over his radio as he pushed down the urge to scream and cry. He knew pretending here was the best strategy, but hearing them say this about him, that they believed the many months that passed since his portal accident were nothing but lies, that he was little more than a ghost wearing the face of their friend hurt badly. Worse, maybe, than he thought it would after he pushed them so far out of his life. Their words echoed his worst nightmares, the rejections that endlessly played through his head in the rare moments he slept.

“I thought . . . I thought you–that maybe Danny–liked me,” admitted Sam softly, and he could see her shaking. Another panic attack, maybe? He hated this. He wanted it to stop. He wished they sucked him into the thermos instead of dragging it out like this, but if he were in their shoes, no doubt he would want to say something to the nasty ghost that stole their friend and brother away for so long, and he felt like he owed them, somehow, but he still wasn’t sure he could keep standing here in silence, listening to this. “But it was just a trick, wasn’t it? Another attempt to gain access to what? My family’s money? Their political influence? You convinced me to do a ghost rights’ rally when those things spent every day terrorizing us, made me think that there was something more to them. You just . . . Tucker’s right. You’re a monster.”

“You pretended to like me, too,” added Valerie. “To be my boyfriend. You–”

“--I didn’t pretend to like you,” he interrupted, surprising himself. He meant to let them vent, to speak their peace, but he couldn’t do it anymore. His core felt as if it would shatter in two. “I dated you because I thought you were cute and smart and kind and brave and just, like, one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met, Valerie, even while knowing that if you knew what I was you’d probably hate me and want to destroy me.” He turned as Valerie stared at him through her helmet, clearly stunned by the admission, although whether she believed it or not was a different story.  He looked at the others sadly, although of course they couldn’t see his face and wouldn’t know. Just the bulky, glowing suit and his monstrous green eyes. If he could take it off, and appear more human for even a moment, he would, but he knew that what was underneath the surface now was by far worse than anything he ever imagined and would bring no comfort to them. “I’ve hurt all of you, and while you won’t believe me, I’m sorry.”

“You’ve hurt my brother the most,” said Jazz, and the ice and bitterness in her voice were so palpable that Danny was surprised the air didn’t freeze around her. But his sister wasn’t a ghost. She wasn’t a monster like him. “Are you going to apologize to him?”

“I don’t think you understand what you’re asking. And I don’t think any of you really understand what’s happening here. Not really,” he said, and the static crackled worse than usual. His emotions were getting the better of him and the itchy feeling was getting worse. He needed to get out of here. He couldn’t keep listening to this. Couldn’t keep doing this. 

“We understand enough. If you answered the summons, then Danny should be free, right?” said Valerie. 

“Are you seriously asking me even though you clearly don’t trust a word I say at this point?”

“That’s the most honest  thing you’ve said all night, ghost,” she said as she shifted slightly and pulled out a thermos. Nope, absolutely not. Despite being glad that the talking was over, there was no way he would let himself get stuck inside a thermos. It was only luck that got him freed when it happened once before - his parents picking it up and emptying it into the portal before they realized Phantom was within it - and he adjusted his stance. The thermos would struggle to suck him up already since Val hadn’t weakened him first, but he didn’t want to fight them and didn’t want to take the chance he would be trapped. He needed to distract them, even if only for a second.

“I won’t be trapped away in a thermos. If you want me to stay away from all of you, then I’ll stay away, but if you try to put me in there, I won’t hold back against you, Valerie” An empty threat, really, since he’d never intentionally hurt Val or his sister and friends, but he might as well play up being the evil ghost they believed him to be. “And right now, you don’t know if this plan of yours worked, right? You couldn't even get the summoning right. Did you even remember to leave anyone with Danny while you summoned me to make sure he’s not here with me inside this circle right now, too?”

He saw her glance uneasily at the others, and the moment she turned he let his invisibility and intangibility flow wash over him. He swallowed as he let himself fall through the floor of Sam’s rec room, the sound of blasters ringing through the air as he plummeted into the dark earth below. The last thing Danny wanted right now was a fight, and no doubt his friends and sister would be going to check on Danny. He needed to get home as quickly as possible.

The problem was that in his ghost form, he would be stuck down here. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to manipulate his powers well enough while in the suit to fly or teleport, the former frustrating him since according to his parents flight was literally one of the three powers that were part of their definition of a ghost. Danny originally thought it was because he was still human, too, but Vlad disproved that pretty easily, and eventually he learned to fly and even teleport in his human form. It seemed like it had something to do with the ecto-resistant properties of the Hazmat suit, which despite being a literal ectoplasmic construct now and not the original suit he wore when he died that day in the portal, still managed to retain that ectoplasmic resistance. It took ages to learn how to use his invisibility and intangibility, but so far, flying and teleportation remained beyond his grasp.

So if he wanted to do this, he needed to transform back to his human self first. While staying invisible and intangible in complete darkness so he wasn’t immediately crushed by the surrounding earth. Which was not something he ever attempted before or wanted to even think about trying before today. 

“Okay, you can do this, Fenton,” he whispered to himself as he focused on his transformation, and he let the rings wash over him as he struggled to hold onto his intangibility. For a moment he felt an intense pain around his midsection before he managed to snap his intangibility back into place,  and then focusing on his room he teleported home. Teleporting to places he knew, that were familiar and that he held a connection to, was always so much easier for him.

Disoriented, though, he still materialized with a small popping sound four feet over his bed, and with a loud crash, he smashed into the mattress and bounced and rolled onto the floor with an awful thump. The second he landed he found himself puking, his stomach screaming in agony from the damage it received from the brief loss of his intangibility while transforming, and he forced himself to glance down to make sure everything was still intact as he heard the sounds of footsteps rushing up the stairs, no doubt drawn by the crashing noises. It couldn’t be Jazz or his friends yet - his parents, maybe?

“Danny, are you okay?!” Mom called out as she pushed open the door, and he saw her shiver as she walked over to him. Even with her Hazmat suit, the chill emanating from him still hit her. 

“I think so,” he mumbled. “Just fell off the bed, maybe? I feel kind of weird.” He felt her hand go to his forehead, checking him for a fever, and he risked a glance down at himself, barely containing a sigh of relief. The damage to his stomach, at least, wasn’t obvious on the surface. He hadn’t split himself in two, crushed his body, or any of a dozen other nasty options that could have become his horrifying reality. Small miracles.

“Jack, can you go get the cleaning supplies from the bathroom?” 

“On it, Mads!” Dad yelled as he hurried down the hall. 

“Maybe we should make you a doctor’s appointment,” she said, frowning at him as she helped him sit up, and his stomach reacted violently enough that he found himself puking again, narrowly missing his Mom. Whatever damage he did in that half-moment he lost his intangibility was rapidly healing on its own, but it still ached terribly, and he flopped down on the bed after he finished throwing up and shivered.

He was never, ever doing that again. 

“I don’t–” he began, but his mom’s phone began buzzing. Frowning, she pulled it out and he saw his sister’s picture on the screen.

“Sweetie, it’s Jazz, so I’m going to take this quick, okay? You just sit here and take a few deep breaths. I’ll have your father move you to the living room in a minute so you don’t have to keep smelling this while we clean it up,” she said, and he nodded. He knew what the phone call was. What Jazz wanted.

He just didn’t know how much she would tell his parents. 

“Yes, he’s here? He’s really sick, though I don’t know what happened. He seemed fine when he came home from school earlier - is there a bug going around?” he heard his Mom say as she walked further down the hall, and he forced himself not to listen in. Either this little ruse of his worked, or it didn’t. He knew if they scanned him, there wouldn’t be any sign of Phantom or any signs of possession. He checked it himself after being released from the hospital, terrified that they would figure out what he was, but Phantom wasn’t possessing him, he was a part of him, and unless they started seriously examining his DNA, the changes were largely invisible to any kind of device or easily dismissed as a symptom of ecto contamination as long as he wasn’t actively using his powers.

He’d been fortunate that his ghostliness wasn’t detectable by his doctors. The research he stole from Vlad ages ago suggested the only thing that could potentially detect would be his core, which would light up like the star on top of a Christmas tree on MRI’s or CT scans if he was using his powers during it, and Danny was lucky he didn’t accidentally use it before he managed to get control over his abilities. It seemed easy enough to avoid now, and so far, despite numerous doctors visits and check-ups and scans, Danny managed to dodge any suspicion that there was anything less than human about him.

“Hey, buddy, how about we get you downstairs?” said Dad. Danny hadn’t even noticed him enter, which seemed like an incredible feat given his size, and Danny nodded as his father easily picked him up. The rare benefit to being small for his age. “Are you getting lighter?”

“I did just throw up,” he joked meekly, and Dad grinned at him. 

“That’s the spirit, kiddo! Figures you’d get sick just as we’re starting to get all this school stuff straightened out,” he sighed as he carried him down the stairs and gently placed him on the couch. Dad put a blanket on him, a surprisingly ordinary looking afghan, and then placed a bucket next to him just in case. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care. I think I’m just going to lay down.” His father nodded, ruffling his hair as if he were still a seven-year-old. Danny grimaced and pushed him away half-heartedly, and then tried not to groan as Dad put on some old monster movie. Danny should have picked something. He was in no mood for stories about monsters.

Danny lay on the couch while Dad cleaned up his room and Mom continued talking to Jazz. Given the length of the call, he knew Jazz must be filling his Mom in on what happened. Well, what they thought happened, at any rate. What a mess. How was a possessed person supposed to act after being freed from possession? Confused? Grateful? Maybe dead? He already covered being sick, even if that was an accident. He really should’ve researched this. 

His stomach felt a bit better when he finally heard the car outside, followed by four doors slamming shut. Well. Inevitable, he supposed. Closing his eyes, he pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to any of them just now, their confessions about him too raw for him to process. Even if they didn’t know everything, even if they didn’t get that Phantom was the same person as him, it still stung bitterly to hear what was probably only a tiny fraction of how much he hurt all of them.

He heard his parents on the stairs and felt rather than saw their gaze on him. “If Jazz is right . . . we need to check. Can you get the scanner, honey?” Mom whispered. 

“Of course, Mads.” 

That was that, then. 

The door swung open and Danny peeked through his eyelids just enough to see  Jazz step inside first. “Hey, mom,” she whispered, giving her a quick hug. “Is Danny . . . ?”

“Asleep right now. He was sick a few minutes ago and seemed a bit disoriented, which would be normal if you’re right about him being possessed,” she said. Hooray. Way to luck into convincingly pretending to be a recently released victim of possession. It seemed like he’d gotten lucky a lot lately, and while his luck wasn’t as bad as Tucker’s, it usually wasn’t good, either, and he wondered when the other shoe would drop. “But I wish you told us what you were planning to do. You’re lucky none of you were seriously hurt. Dealing with ghosts and summoning them is incredibly dangerous, and fixing what happened to Danny . . . he could have been seriously hurt. He is hurt. We might not know for a few days if Danny will be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” apologized Jazz. “I just didn’t want Phantom to figure out what we were planning. The more people that knew or that we talked to about it, the more likely we thought that would happen.”

“I know, dear. Just please talk to us first next time, okay?” sighed Mom as Dad walked back into the room.

“I can’t believe we missed it, Mads,” said Dad. Danny closed his eyes completely, not daring to peek through as he felt his father’s weight on the couch beside him. The scanner beeped softly as he moved it slowly over his prone form. “All of the signs and we just thought he’d given up, but our poor boy was in there, fighting this entire time while that ghost used him. We should’ve checked him again sooner.”

His lip trembled slightly, and although Danny knew he didn’t need to worry about the scan showing anything, he still felt terrified. What if they changed the way the scan worked? What if he was wrong, and they realized he was Phantom and started shooting at him or experimenting on him?

“And Phantom. He had us starting to think he might not be so bad, after all,” said Mom.

“I was fooled too, Mrs. Fenton. We all were,” said Valerie as she and the others sat down in the living room. Oh, great. Was he going to need to pretend to sleep in front of them all night? Most days he would beg for a chance to get a few extra hours of rest, but with a room full of anxious family and friends studying his every move, he doubted he could manage it no matter how hard he tried. Not to mention he rarely had anything but nightmares lately even when he did sleep.

The room was silent as his Dad finished up the scan, and Danny tried to pretend to sleep and breathe normally even as he felt his heart freeze in his chest. “Negative for possession. Some low levels of residual ectoplasm, but that’s not surprising. We can try running him through a decontamination sequence tomorrow and see if it helps.”

Great. More vomiting in his future. The only thing decontamination sequences ever did were leave him feeling nauseous and disoriented for a few days, and while it might help sell the lie, Danny really, really didn’t want to go through several days of his parents trying to purge a part of him that could never be removed.

“You mean we actually did it?” whispered Tucker. “Oh thank god.” Tucker cried for a moment while Sam comforted him, probably overwhelmed with relief now that Danny was fixed. How bad would it hurt when they realized nothing changed, not really? Danny felt a twinge of guilt, but not enough to risk everything by confessing the truth. 

“Can we wake him up?” asked Valerie. 

“We probably should,” said Dad. “He should get some fluids down.” Nope, fluids sounded terrible. His stomach felt a bit better, but if he tried to put more in it there was no way it wouldn’t come right back up. He felt a hand on his shoulder shake him gently. “Hey, kiddo? We need you to get up for a minute. Your friends are here, too.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbled as he slowly opened one eye, pretending. Lying. This was never going to stop, was it? He would be stuck carrying this secret to his grave. 

“Danny!” His sister lunged at him in an instant, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and he hissed through his teeth.

“Oww, Jazz, my stomach, please stop–I just threw up, do you want me to throw up again?!” he snapped as he pushed her away.

“Oh, right! Sorry, Danny,” she said quickly, her face flushed as she released him, and then she brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Oh, Danny, I’m so, so sorry that we didn’t figure it out sooner. I can’t imagine–do you even know what day it is? Where you are?”

“Our house? And, um . . . no to the first one. My brain feels kind of like mush,” he lied as he slowly sat up, delighted when he didn’t throw up, and he stared at his palm with the death mark. The most obvious, clear sign of what he was, and that his parents, the theoretical experts on the paranormal, refused to see. “I kind of don’t feel . . . attached? Like my arm isn’t my arm or something? I don’t know.” He flexed his fingers, staring at them, as someone shoved a glass in his hands. Dad, maybe? It didn’t matter. It was all just another lie on top of a mountain built from them. He didn’t want to keep doing this. 

But his friends and family - none of them wanted to know the truth. They wanted simplicity. They wanted Danny Fenton, pre-accident, not a worry in the world except for getting into an astrophysics program and finding a way to impress popular girls like Paulina. They didn’t want the real him or want to know him. They could never love him for what he was and would always be, the barest hint of it leading them to assume that the person he was since his accident had to be a ghost, because it was unacceptable for him to be the real Danny Fenton.

And something inside him broke at the realization, that his family and friends did not want him or love him, and although he didn’t mean to, he felt the tears trickling down his cheeks. 

“Do you hate us?” whispered Sam as he hastily wiped them away. Of course. They didn’t–they couldn’t–understand why. They thought it was a sign of relief, maybe, or loss at how he lost nearly two years of his life to a ghost.

“How could I? It’s not like you could have known.” Half-truths were better. Easier to remember. Easier to be convincing. He’d gotten so, so very good at the art of lying. “My tongue feels heavy. Is that normal?” Maybe if they thought he was struggling to talk, then they’d leave him alone. Let him sleep instead. He forced down a small sip of water, feeling it burn as it went down his throat, and his stomach almost rioted at even the tiny amount of fluid.

“We haven’t seen a case of possession that lasted nearly as long as yours,” Mom said. “The longest one we ever encountered was three months. I can’t really say what’s normal or not, Danny, but most of the symptoms we did see got better in a few days.”

He gave a half-nod as he slumped back against the couch. “Can he . . . can he do it again?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. The lie was too hard right now. Too much.

“We don’t know for sure,” Dad admitted. “But we’ll be keeping an eye on you and watching for it just in case, son. We can do the scans regularly and make it part of our routine. And as soon as we catch Phantom, I promise you, kiddo, that we’ll make sure he can’t ever do this again. Even if we have to chase him down in the Ghost Zone, we won’t let him get away with this. We’ll tear that ghost apart molecule by molecule.”

He should have said something approving. He should have been grateful, thanked his Dad, and maybe cried a bit more if he wanted to be convincing. But hearing his Dad threatening to slowly tear him apart, after everything else tonight? All he could manage was a very small “Oh.”

He saw them exchange worried glances. “I think it’d be a good idea if you got some rest, sweetie,” Mom said. “Kids, I know you want to spend time with him, but maybe we could give him a few days to readjust?”

“Of course, Mrs. F,” said Tucker. “Anything for my best friend. Just, um, let us know when you feel up for a visit, okay, man?”

He should’ve mustered up some enthusiasm. Should’ve talked about wanting to play Doomed! again or going to the movies or whatever it was that people whose lives weren’t consumed by ghosts did. But he didn’t have the heart, and instead, he gave a half-nod. “Sure. Okay.”

Sam and Tucker and Valerie said their goodbyes, leaving him with his parents and sister. “We’re going to reach out to a few colleagues, see if they have some suggestions to help you reacclimate, kiddo,” said Jack. “Jazz, would you mind keeping an eye on him for a bit?”

“Not at all.” Jazz smiled warmly and sat down on the couch beside him as their parents left the room, and she put a hand gently on his knee. “Must be nice to be free from Phantom’s control, huh, little brother? I’m sorry it took so long.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine, Jazz.”

Perfectly, absolutely fine.

Chapter Text

Part Two: Liminal Child

For the first few days, Jazz basked in the triumph. 

They actually did it. She and the others saved Danny, and though he spent the next few days mostly sleeping and feeling a bit out of sorts, her brother was back. Her parents told her it would take time to fully recover physically. They didn’t know if the heart problems and other issues were related to the portal, the possession, or both, but if it was the possession, then maybe Danny still had a chance at being an astronaut, after all. A tiny, unexpected miracle. 

She thought he would be thrilled when she brought it up, but instead, his expression remained neutral as he half-shrugged, a bowl of mac and cheese in his lap as he stared blankly at the TV. He was watching some home renovation show on HGTV, and the people on screen were arguing over the color of the walls in the master bedroom. “Doesn’t matter. My grades are shit.”

“Language, Danny,” she admonished. “And you still have two years left. Mom and Dad are planning to talk to the school, too, about what happened to you–”

“--they’re what?” he snapped, and she shivered as the temperature seemed to drop. Just a coincidence, probably, or maybe it was related to Danny’s ecto contamination. It couldn’t be anything else. They would know if Phantom tried to possess Danny again since her parents kept checking. “I don’t want them to talk to the school. I don’t want anyone to know, okay? It’s–please, Jazz. Convince them not to?”

“But–

“--if they know I’ve been–y’know–for the last two years,” he said, waving a hand but refusing to say the actual word still - “then they’ll probably make me start high school all over again. I don’t–I don’t want to be separated from my friends. Please? It’s not like I was doing well, anyway, and I can figure it out somehow.”

She hadn’t considered that the school might require him to repeat a couple of grades, but what he said made sense. It was an unprecedented situation. None of the marks he earned were his, after all, but were instead what Phantom managed to scrape together while posing as Danny. “Do you remember anything since your accident?” she said, not willing to promise him anything yet. Socialization was important, but it wouldn’t be right to force him into his junior year if he couldn’t handle the work. And they could probably try to arrange it so he shared a lunch period or gym with his friends. Mr. Lancer would definitely be sympathetic. 

“Yes.” Oh. Jazz hoped he didn’t, honestly. She couldn’t imagine being in her own body and not being in control, watching as someone else lived her life while her friends and family remained oblivious to her plight. The guilt hit her powerfully, and she bit her lip, trying not to make this about her. Danny had enough trouble to deal with without being forced to manage her feelings, too. 

“What–what was it like?” she asked, trying to keep her tone and posture neutral, but he would not look at her.

“About what you might expect.” His eyes drifted down to the mostly full bowl of food. His appetite hadn’t returned yet. Mom kept making toast and oatmeal and other bland foods that would go easy on his stomach, but even those seemed to be too much for him. With a sigh, he put the bowl down and lay down on the couch as he pulled a blanket up to his chin, clearly not willing to continue the conversation. 

“I’ll talk to Mom and Dad.” His eyes flitted to her, then, for just a moment before going back to the TV. A shiver ran through him, and he coughed into his shoulder, his hand going to his chest as he curled in on himself. “You okay?”

He chuckled bitterly. “Of course not. But thanks. For talking to them, I mean.”

“Danny, should I–I can get Mom,” she offered, seeing him wince as he continued to clutch at his chest and grit his teeth, but he shook his head. “You don’t have to be stubborn, it’s obvious–”

“--what’s obvious?” he interrupted, his voice strained. “There’s never been a case like mine before, right? I’ll be fine, Jazz. Just leave me alone so I can get some sleep.” 

She tried not to take his attitude personally, knowing how much he suffered through and continued to endure. She couldn’t expect him to not be a little scared and irritable after everything. “Okay. I’ll let you rest,” she agreed as she headed up to her room to work on her homework, but she still sent a quick text to her mom suggesting she check on Danny. Her brother would be furious, of course, but it was her job as his older sister to keep Danny safe.

Checking her email, she frowned as she saw the one from Amity Park College. They accepted her and her plan of study with enthusiasm, but knowing what she did now, she found herself mildly regretting the decision. Not the part about going to a local school - Danny would need her support after everything - but about her plan of study. Everything Danny told her about the ghosts were lies constructed by Phantom to hide the truth that her parents were right. The ghosts were despicable, malicious creatures, anxious to manipulate and–and–

She stopped, then, remembering the Lunch Lady and the way she spoke to Danny so kindly. That hadn't been some kind of manipulation, at least as far as Jazz could tell. The Lunch Lady didn’t know Jazz was there, and Jazz wasn’t convinced the ghost knew Danny was possessed, either. It may have been a genuine effort on her part, even if Phantom was doing it for his own selfish reasons. 

She wouldn’t change her course of study. Not yet. It would be worth understanding the ghosts well enough to fight back and to see if she could figure out a way to prevent anyone else from suffering from possession the way Danny did. 

Her phone buzzed, and glancing down she saw a text from Danny’s friends, asking if they could hang out. She rolled her eyes as she picked up the phone to call Tucker.

“Hey, Jazz. You called? Seriously?” he groaned. “Why can’t you just text like a normal person?”

“Normal people call sometimes, Tuck. Stop trying to turn me into your errand girl between you and Danny, okay?” she insisted. “You can work out play dates on your own now that you’re officially sixteen.”

“Aww, you remembered my birthday was yesterday, how sweet,” he teased, and then his voice grew quiet. “Danny didn’t, you know, but at least I get it this time. I’m guessing he’s not doing great?”

“He’s still pretty messed up,” said Jazz, her eyes darting briefly to her doorway to make sure Danny wasn’t standing there listening. “He’s mostly been sleeping and pretty non-responsive, actually. He’s been having a lot of nightmares, too. I’m starting to think he has post-possession PTSD or depression.”

“Those real diagnoses or ones you made up?”

“Real . . . ish,” she admitted. “PTSD is real. So is depression. And this situation could easily cause either with him, if not both. Mom and Dad got him to agree to therapy, but the earliest session they have isn’t for a couple of weeks unless they want to admit him to an ER first.”

Tucker paused, and she heard him whisper something to someone else in the room, but she couldn’t make out the words. “Is he that bad? Like, do you think they need to do that?”

“Not yet,” she said. “But they’re considering it since he still hasn’t eaten much. It might be a side-effect of the decontamination procedures and the possession, though. Mom and Dad aren’t sure.”

“We could bring over some food from the Nasty Burger or something,” offered Tucker.

“That’s not really what I’d call gentle on the stomach. If anything, it’ll probably make him puke again.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Jazz hummed, staring at the photos around her mirror for a moment, her eyes landing on an old one of her and Danny on a camping trip five years ago. They were both so little then, and Danny . . . his smile and the light in his eyes were both something she hadn’t seen much of in a long time. She wished he could be that happy again, but seeing the way he was now, Jazz didn’t feel optimistic. 

“Okay, do it,” she said, and she heard Tucker cheer. “But don’t get mad if Danny tells you to leave or whatever, okay? He’s going through a lot.”

“Cool, we’ll be there in about an hour,” he said, hanging up, and Jazz tilted back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. Unlike Danny, she didn’t have star stickers all over her own. Her ceiling was textured and the stickers would never adhere to it even if she were so inclined, but the strange swirls and patterns on her own ceiling suited her. She would lay on her bed sometimes, looking for recognizable images and patterns with the random spirals in what amounted to an unofficial ink-blot test. Most days she saw an elderly, hunched woman with a cane; a bird in mid-flight; a dolphin jumping amidst a chaotic sea; but today she found nothing in the patterns, not even the ones she could usually spot with ease.

She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair, resetting her headband to catch the loose strands that slipped out throughout the afternoon. There were no new pictures of her and Danny together on her mirror. There were two from the last eighteen months, ones that Danny fought and pushed back against her taking, but she could not bear to look at them when she knew the one giving the sad smile in both was Phantom and not Danny. 

Jazz worked on homework until she heard the front door open, and then hurrying downstairs she saw Sam and Tucker with a couple of bags of food. “Hey, Jazz,” said Sam, and she frowned when Danny didn’t so much as turn to look at them, his eyes staring blankly at the TV screen. “We brought enough for everyone.”

“No Valerie?”

“She’s stuck working,” said Tucker with a shrug as he sat down next to Danny. “Hey, buddy. We heard you’re tired of oatmeal and toast, so we brought food. You interested?”

“No.” The answer was cold, landing like snowflakes heralding an oncoming blizzard. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Jazz said we could come over,” said Sam as she took a seat and began sipping her soy milkshake. “It’s been three days, Danny, and you haven’t responded to any of our texts. We were worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance as Jazz sat down in the armchair with a couple of her assignments. She wasn’t being nosy, she just wanted to make sure that if Danny really wasn’t up to dealing with company, then she could make sure he got the space he desperately needed.

“So . . . home renovations, huh?” said Tucker. “There’s a new episode of, um . . .” He trailed off, realization striking. Jazz sympathized with him since she already made that mistake once. There was no way to know what shows or movies or anything Danny liked anymore, and Danny volunteered nothing, his eyes remaining on the TV as Tucker pulled out his cheeseburger and set another in front of his friend on the table. A gentle invitation, at least, for Danny to eat something .

“I like these shows sometimes,” admitted Sam in a feeble attempt to get him to open up and cover up Tucker’s faux pas. “I get ideas about weird things to do to my room that I know will make my mom furious. She hates when people try to be ‘trendy’ instead of sticking to what’s ‘classy.’” 

“There’s a difference?” said Tucker, and Sam rolled her eyes.

“What about you, Danny? What part of this do you find riveting?” asked Sam. 

“I don’t have to think about it much, and it’s not a monster movie or a horror movie.” The room fell silent at his admission, Danny laying eerily still as he stared at the screen. Jazz hadn’t considered that some things might literally be too traumatizing for Danny to engage with, and she knew Dad in particular had a fondness for old creature movies from the seventies and eighties. Prior to his accident, Danny loved them, too.

“So you’re not interested in seeing the new Nightmerica movie?” said Sam, and Jazz could tell she meant it mostly as a joke, but Danny didn’t crack a smile.

“No.” 

They tried a few more times to talk to him, to engage him about anything from things that happened in school to a new Doomed! expansion to a few movies coming out soon, but through it all Danny rarely gave more than a one or two word answer, remaining tucked under a blanket as his eyes continued to stare vacantly, his food sitting untouched. 

“You should at least try to eat,” said Jazz as she finished her homework, and when Danny didn’t respond, she decided to push a little harder, to be a little less gentle. “If you don’t, you’ll probably have to go to the hospital, Danny. You haven’t eaten much of anything in days.”

Sam and Tucker shared an uneasy look, but her threat seemed to do the trick as he forced himself to sit up and pick up the cheeseburger. He opened the paper, his nose wrinkling as he poked it, and then with a sigh he took a small bite. “You haven’t been eating?” said Tucker.

“Couldn’t stop throwing up for a day or two,” he mumbled as he took another tiny bite and slowly chewed it. “Now everything tastes wrong.” 

“I hate that feeling, like everything is coated in your own stomach acid,” said Sam as she moved to sit down beside him. “But it’ll get better.”

“Hmm.” 

“Do you, uh . . . want to talk about it?” offered Tucker. They had been dancing around the topic since they arrived, just as Jazz and her parents had since they rescued him. 

“Talk about what?” It was clear Danny knew exactly what Tucker meant, even as he pretended to be fascinated by his burger. 

“The possession. Phantom. Any of it,” said Sam. “I can’t imagine how awful it must’ve been.”

“There’s worse things.” He took another bite, and despite how many he managed to swallow, most of the burger remained. Danny was humoring her, but reluctantly. She was going to need to talk to her parents. She didn’t want to see him go to the hospital again, but if it was that or watching him slowly starve himself to death, it wasn’t even a real choice.

“I can’t imagine anything worse. Not really,” said Sam. 

“Oh?” He put his food down on the table, his eyes sparkling with an odd sheen. “I’ve got a few things I can think of.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s say that Mom and Dad didn’t realize I was, y’know,” he said. Still refusing to say the word possessed, to acknowledge what happened in full. It wasn’t a good sign. “And they just thought I was a ghost pretending to be alive, pretending to be Danny. And then let’s say they got pretty upset about that, and decided to try and hunt me down until they could strap me to a table and dissect me, not realizing I was still Danny, and just took that knife and started slicing open my chest and pulling out the pieces, bit by bit, until they finally realized that I had a beating human heart and lungs and . . . and . . . ” He trailed off as he stared at them. Jazz was covering her mouth with her hands while Sam’s face was white as a sheet, and Tucker looked nauseous.

“Danny, Mom and Dad would never–they wouldn’t hurt you. You know that, right?” stuttered Jazz. 

“Not really. I’ve had lots and lots and lots of nightmares these last two years about what could happen.” He stared at his hand, rubbing the mark on his palm for a moment before picking up his cheeseburger and taking another small bite. “Could still happen, even. My scans aren’t coming back right. I’ve heard them talking about it.”

“Danny, your parents love you,” said Sam. “There’s no way they would ever do something like that to you. These fears–they aren’t yours. They’re Phantom’s.”

For some reason that made Danny choke out a harsh laugh. “Right. Of course. I’ll just forget all about it, Sam. It’s so easy,” he said. “I should’ve just reminded myself of that. These feelings aren’t mine. They're just Phantom’s. So, so simple.”

“Dude, she’s just trying to help,” said Tucker. 

“That’s what you were all trying to do, right?” he snapped as he buried his face in his hands, eyes tightly shut. “And I know you all expect me to be super grateful, but I–I’m–” A shiver passed through him again and he coughed for a minute before grabbing his chest. Jazz barely resisted jumping to her feet and rushing over to him, her uneasiness growing.

“You okay?” she asked, and he shook his head, teeth gritted.

“No, I’m not okay,” he said, and she could see tears forming in the corner of his eyes as he looked up at the three of them. “You want to know how I’m doing? Fine. I’m doing about as badly as I can imagine. I feel like I’m split in two and cracking at the seams. I can’t stop wanting to throw up while also feeling constantly, obnoxiously hungry, and there’s this hollow ache that I can’t–” He stopped, shaking his head again. “Everything is wrong and it shouldn’t be. I should be happy. I should be better. But I’m not. It’s all just . . . worse, somehow.”

“Danny, it’s okay to not feel okay right now,” said Jazz as she hugged him tightly. “You’ve been through a lot. Nobody expected you to be fine in a day.”

“Jazz is right,” said Tucker. “You don’t have to pretend like it’s all working out just for us, okay?”

“We know that this has to be hard for you,” added Sam as she leaned against him and squeezed his hand. “And that maybe there’s a lot of things that don’t make sense, but we can figure it out together. We’re here for you, Danny. We’ll always be here for you.”

Danny said nothing as the two of them held him closely. Although Jazz knew things were hard for Danny now, they would get easier, and at least he finally opened up and admitted how much he was struggling instead of continuing to keep it bottled up. Therapy would help, as well as spending more time with his friends. They could get through this. They had to get through this. They had done the right thing.

Hadn’t they?

Chapter Text

Danny sat at his desk, drawing slow spirals in the margins of his notebook as Ms. Lozano tried to review how to conjugate verbs in the past perfect tense. . . or was it present perfect? Crud. He hated Spanish almost as much as he hated English class. His brain struggled to make sense of the words on a good day, and today was anything but. He stayed up until nearly 3 am last night playing Doomed! with Sam and Tucker, trying to put on the barest facade that everything was fine and normal and fixed even though he felt hollow. Even when he slept he only had nightmares, and he could barely muster the energy to be anything but angry or upset, his fuse too short and what little happiness he felt before the summoning stubbornly out of reach. 

The worst part was how proud his sister and friends were, even after he confessed to being a half-broken mess last week. Jazz believed he took an important step forward on his recovery after he lashed out, his friends were pleased he opened up and was honest with them, even though they knew so very, very little about the truth. The reality was horrifying, and even testing the waters by telling them how he had nightmares about his parents proved to be too much as they denied that his fears about them were his own. They were just Phantom’s. Not Danny’s. Because accepting anything else would mean allowing themselves to believe things might be much worse than they wanted it to be.

A shiver passed through him and he turned his head, pretending to cough to cover up his breath fogging in front of him. Sam glanced at him uneasily, aware of what it meant, but he already explained that it was a side-effect of his portal accident, independent of his supposed possession, and his friends accepted it when he lied about talking to his parents about it. It wasn’t as if they would ever check, not when they didn’t want to know the truth. Not really.

He put his head down, pushing his pencil down harder as he drew the swirls and tried to ignore the intense pain in his core. Ignoring his obsessive urge to go and check and see which ghost it was, to make sure that nothing happened and that everyone was safe, their lives still on a path of their choosing despite the ghosts. There were people in Amity Park who thought they were so lucky that no one ever died in the ghost attacks, even as people were occasionally hurt, but it wasn’t luck and Danny knew it. Ignoring his ghost sense put everyone at risk, he was being selfish, he shouldn’t–

He pushed the thought down again, almost breaking his pencil as he bit his lip and his other hand involuntarily gripped his chest as his core ached. Ghosts were more than their obsessions. He knew that, and his frustration bubbled beneath the surface at this inhuman thing inside of him insisting he throw himself into danger to protect people that only viewed him as a monster. But he couldn’t give in. His friends and family were watching too closely, and any appearance from Phantom would result in him trapped in a thermos, gone forever. He wasn’t ignoring it, he was simply waiting for when it would be the best time, the best moment, to react. If he entered the fray again too soon, then he would be stopped and prevented from continuing to do good in the long-term.

The cracking, fragile ache of his core remained unmoved by his half-hearted logic, and gritting his teeth he felt an intense relief when the bell signaling the end of the period finally rang. He jumped to his feet, stuffing his notebook into his bag with his books, while Sam packed her stuff and fell into step beside him. 

“That one looked pretty rough,” she said. Great. She noticed. Danny couldn’t afford to be so careless. “You sure you should be here today?”

“I’ll be fine,” he lied. He hated being at school right now, trying to act as if everything was okay and like he was going to pull off some miracle with his grades and his attendance. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” It was, in fact, worse, but Sam didn’t press him further, seemingly pleased with his response as they headed to lunch. The ghost alarm remained stubbornly silent. Maybe it wasn’t one of his nastier foes. Despite what most people believed, there were plenty of ghosts that came to Amity Park and did nothing but quietly fulfill their obsessions without leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

They sat down at their table and Danny gave a half-wave and smile to Val who was sitting with Star a few tables away, trying hard to convince her and the others that everything was fine, that he was great and oh so much better now thanks to them. Valerie already spent a few hours tripping over herself apologizing for not figuring out he was possessed and for dating him even though it was actually Phantom and not him, and he’d simply nodded and mumbled a thanks for the help she gave, telling her she couldn’t have known the truth. She said she looked forward to getting to know the real him, now, and Danny had to make up an excuse and leave before he accidentally bit through his own tongue in an effort to hold back everything he wanted to say to her then but couldn’t. As he waved at her now, trying to act so much like everything was fine between them and nothing was wrong and that he was fine , Valerie tilted her head a little and frowned before finally waving back and giving a small smile in return. Danny would need to sell it better next time. He used to be so good at pretending. 

His lunch was a turkey sandwich with some chips and a piece of fudge. It should be okay. Turkey sandwiches were never his favorite, but they weren’t awful, yet as he forced himself to take a bite Danny almost gagged. Nothing tasted right anymore, not since that day, but he also felt insatiable, a horrible gnawing hunger twisting in his gut. A side effect from not satisfying his obsession, maybe? Some weird side effect from the wish? Neither guess seemed quite right to him, not really, but he did his best to ignore it, eating food that tasted like chewing on dust, lest he give his family and friends one more thing to worry about.

This was fine. He was fine.

“How was Spanish?” asked Tucker as he sat down with his lunch tray. Chicken tenders, fries, and some applesauce. The smell alone made Danny nauseous today, though normally he’d eat something similar without hesitation.

“Boring,” said Sam. Her own lunch was some kind of peanut noodles she brought from home, and she twirled them around on her fork. “We’re going over more verb conjugations. It’s kind of dull, so it makes it pretty hard to focus.”

“That’s why you should’ve taken French class with me,” argued Tucker. “Mr. Alberts is an awesome teacher, he can make any dull topic interesting.” 

“My parents would’ve loved that. They argue French is like the top business language or something,” grumbled Sam as she stabbed her noodles a little more viciously than necessary. Danny was happy to let the two of them talk with minimal participation from him. It made pretending so much easier. “And it’s classy, and Spanish isn’t, which they only think because they’re being racist assholes.”

“Yikes, Sam, tell us how you really feel,” teased Tucker, shooting a glance at Danny, and he forced a half-smile in return. Clearly it failed to convince Tucker, though, as he frowned at him. “You okay, dude? You seem worse than usual, considering.”

“I’m fine,” he lied as he forced down another bite of his sandwich. How had he only eaten a quarter of it so far? How could it possibly be so impossibly giant despite being no bigger than any other sandwich he ate in his life? “Just tired. How do you two stay up so late all the time?”

“We usually don’t,” said Sam. “But the new expansion is so cool, and there’s still so much of it you haven’t even seen yet, Danny.”

“Sure, but maybe we can save it for Friday? I really do want to try and bring my grades up a little bit,” he said. Did he? It would help with the lie, the illusion that everything was better, but how long could it last? How long before he couldn’t resist that pull in his core to become Phantom and fight the ghosts, even if it meant getting captured and tortured by his own parents or destroyed by Valerie? Was it possible to ignore it long enough that it would stop, that his obsession might change? Would he stop himself from returning to fight the ghosts and protect people even if it did change? 

He pushed the thoughts down, barely registering Sam’s agreement. “Fair enough. We can wait until Friday, then. Your house?”

“I guess. My parents are pretty happy to see you both coming over again, now that–um–y’know,” he mumbled, trailing off a bit. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, even now, and he knew his family and friends noticed even if they never asked why. He wished they would, even if Danny didn’t know how he would answer. He wished any one of them would realize the truth, that they were wrong, that he was never possessed, yet it wouldn’t happen. They were all too happy that he was fixed to even think about asking questions they might not like the answers to.

“Shit, look out–” began Tucker, but it was too late, and Danny felt someone roughly grab the back of his head and smash his face into the table. 

“Hey, Fenturd!” snapped Dash as Danny blinked, his ears ringing as Dash gripped him by his hair. His fingers twisted through it and he could feel Dash digging his nails into Danny’s scalp. Was his nose bleeding? Where was the teacher? “You were supposed to do the work on our chemistry project, remember?”

Chemistry project? Was he . . . oh. They had been assigned something together, hadn’t they? Right before the summoning happened and he ended up out of school for a week. Crud. 

“That doesn’t merit smashing his head into a table, Dash,” snapped Sam. “He was seriously sick last week, you can’t expect–”

“--he’s been back for days, hasn’t he? There’s no excuse and that stupid assignment counts for a huge part of my grade. My Dad’s going to kill me” said Dash, cutting her off, and Dash grabbed him roughly by his arm before throwing him onto the floor. “And if I’m going to suffer, Fenton, so will you.”

He should let Dash beat him up, get it out of his system so he wouldn’t move on to someone else when he was done. The bully never attacked him so publicly before, and maybe he would finally get punished for it if the teachers caught him in the act. But the frustration and rage Danny felt over everything lately bubbled inside of him, and as he scrambled to his feet, Danny automatically dodged as Dash took a swing at him. Dash’s punch was sloppy, too wide and unbalanced, and Dash barely kept from tumbling as his blow failed to land.

Danny, however, had nearly two years of fighting experience under his belt, his own technique by far more advanced than some stupid bully, and without thinking he drove his fist into Dash’s gut, making Dash double over in pain. Danny heard a few “Oohs” and someone yelled “Kick his ass, Fenton!” as Dash struggled to his feet, and Dash’s next punch was even sloppier than the first one. Instead of dodging, though, this time Danny grabbed his arm, twisting it behind Dash’s back as he knocked him onto his knees. “I’m not going to be your punching bag anymore,” Danny whispered as he leaned down next to Dash, “and if you try to attack anyone else, either, I’ll do way worse to you than what you’ve done to me these last few years.”

“Fuck, Fenton, my shoulder–” he screamed, trying to wrench free, and then Danny felt it in the way that Dash’s arm jerked unnaturally, his shoulder dislocating, and there was a cry as Dash threw up his lunch. Danny blinked as he looked around at his classmates, their whispers and pointing, and oh . . . oh. He went way, way too far with this, his senses rushing back to him as the adrenaline from the fight faded. He shouldn’t have–he attacked–oh, no. Oh no no no no no no no. 

Danny didn’t know when he fell to his knees, clutching his chest in pain, his breathing too fast. He felt a hand on his back–Sam or Tucker, maybe?--as someone tried to calm him down, and another student brought Dash to the nurse. There was a teacher talking, too. Mr. Lancer? And Valerie? But he couldn’t focus, his mind spinning rapidly, repeating the same thing over and over again.

He hurt someone. He hurt Dash. His shoulder was dislocated, his throwing arm ruined, he would never play football again. Danny destroyed his dreams as surely as the portal destroyed his own.

“Danny, it’s okay, Dash deserved it, he’s been hurting you and tons of other kids for years,” said Sam, but the words couldn’t penetrate. His core screamed. This wasn’t simply ignoring his obsession, it was actively defying it , going against his very sense of self, his very being. And why? Because he was angry? Because he was tired of his friends and family and everyone else not understanding him, of hurting him, when they couldn’t possibly know what they were doing? Because fighting back against Dash was easy, a convenient target in the middle of this awful nightmare?

“I’ve called his parents,” said Mr. Lancer. “Danny, we’ll talk later about the consequences, okay? But for now I’ve asked your parents to pick you up and bring you home. Do you understand?”

He was a monster. He didn’t deserve Lancer’s compassion or anyone else’s. Danny destroyed Dash’s shoulder. His dreams. He couldn’t–he wanted to disappear. Was he crying right now? When had he even started? He didn’t know. It was selfish of him to try to pretend to be here, to be human, when he was some kind of freak. Danny told himself since his accident that Vlad didn’t represent his future, but then what did he do today if not abuse his own power to strike someone else down? Danny could suffer another bloody nose and a few punches and kicks to the gut. He would heal. But Dash . . . his shoulder . . . 

Danny did not remember his parents coming to collect him or getting into the GAV. He didn’t remember going up to his room and laying down on his bed, but when he finally began to come out of his haze, he saw the sun was setting, the stars on his ceiling glowing. Did anyone else notice that they always glowed now, whether it was dark or not? He held up his hand, reaching for them for a brief moment before letting it drop to his side when there was a gentle knock.

“Hey, little brother, can I come in?” said Jazz, her voice like someone approaching a wounded animal, but Danny’s freakishly fast healing already fixed what little damage Dash managed to do. No injuries here. At least, no physical ones.

“No.” He didn’t know how he managed to get the word out, but as usual, Jazz ignored it as she sat down beside him on the bed. She never cared about what he actually wanted, did she? She always pushed her way in, intruded into everything, and yet she still didn’t realize the truth, either. 

“Nobody’s mad, you know,” she said, and he tried to push the bitterness down. She was trying to help and he knew that, but right now, he could barely stand to be around her or his friends on a good day, and this . . . what was the point? “Well, Dash and his parents might be, but everyone else gets it. Sam and Tucker confirmed he’s been bullying you and a bunch of other students for a long time.” She paused, waiting for him to respond, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t, even. None of them understood. Not really. Danny easily could have killed Dash. And for what? A bloody nose? Who else might he hurt? “Lancer said you’re suspended for the next two days, though. There are, um, certain policies they have to follow. Mom and Dad are there right now trying to figure out why they didn’t do anything before things got to this point.”

Two days. Hardly a fitting punishment for what he did. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder. “Danny . . . please, you don’t–”

“--leave me alone, Jazz.” He put as much bite into his request as he could and felt the temperature in his room plummet. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“But you need–”

“--I need you to leave me alone,” he repeated, rolling over and curling up on himself, and Jazz sighed as she stood up, rubbing her arms. 

“Fine. But we’re going to talk about this, okay?” He heard his door click quietly shut and he waited, listening to her footsteps fade before letting his invisibility and intangibility flow through him as he stood up and then floated through the ceiling to the Ops Center. With a quick glance around to confirm it was empty, he let himself flicker back into the visible spectrum, walking almost on autopilot to the weapons locker before opening it.

He stared at the ecto blasters for a long time, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he considered the unthinkable. He couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t just Dash, of course, but Dash was the result of it. The end. What happened when he suppressed everything, endlessly, in some stupid effort to try to protect the people he cared about, the people who could never love him as he truly was. A monster wearing human skin, pretending he could get along, convincing himself that ghosts weren’t really that bad or as beholden to their obsessions as his parents thought, despite his own core fracturing every time he went against his own. 

He stared at the weapons in the closet as he let himself toy with the idea for a moment. Was his healing factor too strong? Would it even work? Probably not, given what he survived in the portal that day. Half-survived. Or was that the fear talking? What did he have to live for, at this point? If he turned into Phantom and tried to make things right, his parents would eventually capture and dissect him, and at some point they’d realize the truth and it would destroy them. If it wasn’t his parents, then it would be Valerie, blasting him until there was nothing left. If he didn’t turn into Phantom again . . . well, he wasn’t even sure that was an option. He felt sure his obsession would drive him to do it at some point, regardless of his own wishes. There was no ignoring what he was, no burying Phantom in the past and pretending the grave would be left untouched. 

And being Danny Fenton, now, felt empty. Hollow. Hearing his friends and family and sister talk about Phantom, about the suffering he must have endured, about how horrifying and awful it all had to be. Talking about him, his other self, as if he were a monster, when the reality was that Danny Fenton was too cowardly to even consider taking that leap. The way they hated him, too, even as Danny Fenton these last couple of years. A bad friend and brother and student and son. Now that the possession was over, everything was supposed to be better, since all of the things that were wrong with him were supposed to be Phantom’s fault. But he couldn’t keep up even the minimal efforts to be better, to do better, anymore. Danny couldn’t continue to hold a mask that weighed more than the sun.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Danny jerked in surprise, seeing Sidney Pointdexter sitting on a table. He didn’t think Sidney ever left Casper High, but it didn’t matter.

“Do what?”

“Don’t play that game with me, buddy,” said Pointdexter. “I had a feeling you’d be in a rough spot after your run in with that bully. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to warn you first.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Danny, still staring hollowly at the weapons rack. Debating. Maybe there was no point in denying it. The ghosts understood him by far better than any of his family and friends did. “And it’s not really about Dash. He’s just . . . it was just . . . It’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling like it is. You get that though, don’t you?” said Sidney, his legs swinging slowly back and forth. “I was a freshman, you know. When I . . . .”  Sidney trailed off, but there was a flash behind him, a feeling of overwhelming sorrow and anger and hopelessness and intense pain, as he saw the shadow of a muzzle in the air around Sidney followed by sudden nothingness, and Danny shuddered. He never experienced a death echo, or at least, not from this side.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, crying, and he wiped the tears on his sleeve as he went and sat down beside Sidney.

“Not your fault, either,” said Sidney. “It was–I shouldn’t have done it, you know. Maybe if I’d known I’d come back this way I wouldn’t have. I thought everything would be over. I thought–I thought there would be nothing. But the world didn’t let go, and I watched as my family and friends moved on without me. I found myself angry, blaming the bullies who drove me to this, wanting to get revenge on any that would try it again so that they could never hurt anyone else like they hurt me. But it’s never enough. There’s always someone who slips through the cracks.”

“I don’t know what else to do. I’m not sure this is what I want,” he said, nodding at the cabinet, “but I can’t–you don’t know everything about me, Sidney. If you did, you wouldn’t–you wouldn’t try to save me.”

“Sure I would, Danni-rino.” There was a small smile on his face as he gently nudged him in the shoulder. “Maybe no one else knows the truth, but I do. I can’t miss it, not when I spend nearly every minute at the school. Must be tough, having your friends and family not know everything you do as Phantom.”

Danny felt his blood run cold. “What?”

“I’ve never told anyone, champ. Promise. Wouldn’t betray a secret like that,” he chuckled, holding his hands up defensively. “But maybe instead of using one of those weapons to do something you can’t take back, you can talk to me instead, okay? You’ve done a lot for us ghosts. Might as well let us–or at least let me–do something for you. Please, Danny?”

It was odd hearing Sidney not call him by a nickname, and strange enough that Danny found himself nodding and slowly spilling the truth about everything. About his accident. About becoming Phantom. About deciding to befriend the ghosts at first not out of a sense of altruism, but out of a selfish desire to prove to himself that he didn’t have to become the monster his parents thought. That befriending the ghosts also meant he didn’t have to fight them as Phantom, when being Phantom was so, so dangerous before he learned how to turn invisible since getting away before his parents showed up used to be nearly impossible, the number of close calls giving him nightmares even now. That he found it also quietly eased his own obsession, too, as it helped him protect the ghosts, too. To give them a chance to pursue their own obsessions, their own dreams, despite being dead. 

He told him about the frustration and exhaustion, about the way his parents and friends and everyone else talked about the ghosts, and how much it hurt him even as they themselves saw the proof that ghosts weren’t like that. That he wasn’t like that. Danny told him about the summoning, about how he thought it would provide an out, but instead–instead–

“--it destroyed you, didn’t it?” said Sidney, and Danny nodded, crying softly into his hands, not wanting anyone to overhear them together even though no one should be near the Ops Center. Not wanting Jazz to stick her nose into things only to make everything worse right now.

And he told him about the last two weeks, and the hollowness and emptiness and resisting fulfilling his obsession. About refusing to turn into Phantom out of fear of what would happen since he blamed so much on his alter ego that his family and friends spoke only of harming half of himself, without knowing it was him. 

“Why not tell them the truth, then?” said Sidney. 

“I can’t, they’ll–”

“--if you’re already at this point,” he said, nodding at the ecto blasters in the closet, “then what’s the harm?”

“Knowing that I’m a ghost would ruin them, Sid. My parents wouldn’t be able to handle it, none of them could. And there’s a big difference between dying this way and dying on a lab table,” said Danny. 

“I’ve seen your folks, y’know,” said Sidney. “They were at the school today, talking to that teacher of yours, Mr. Lancer? They’re fighting for you. They care about you.”

“They care about someone that doesn’t exist, not–not the real me. They all hated who Danny Fenton was so much these last two years that they decided I was possessed. And they hate Danny Phantom too much to even consider that we might be the same person.” He shook his head. “I can’t–I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do you want backup?” he offered. “I can be there, if you want. And you don’t have to tell them everything at once. Maybe just a little at a time. Test the waters, so to speak. There’s a whole range of liminals out there, buddy. Most of them don’t have powers like yours, or stand so perfectly on the threshold between our worlds. It’s more like they’ve got a toe across, at best. You could come clean about the possession part, at least, and let them know what you are without telling them about Phantom just yet.”

Danny mulled it over, his stomach churning at the prospect of his loved ones knowing anything that might potentially lead to them knowing the whole truth. To rejection. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. How can I even prove it to them? Won’t they just think I’m possessed again or that I’ve gone crazy?”

“If it helps, your parents already suspect the truth,” said Sidney, and Danny blinked, staring at him. “Not the part about you being Phantom, but the possession? They’re not convinced your friends and sister got it right. Your Dad’s been questioning it some, at least. He talks to himself a lot while he works.” 

“You shouldn’t spy on my parents, they’re dangerous,” groaned Danny. Even though his Dad missed most of the time, Danny still had more close calls than he could count. “And just how much of my life are you listening in on, Sidney?”

“Just enough to hopefully avoid letting you slip through the cracks, champ,” he said as he put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Now, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, pulling at his hair, but even as he said it he stood up and, with one last look, closed the door to the weapons locker. He promised Jazz weeks ago that he wouldn’t kill himself, after all, even if she didn’t think that person was him, and talking to Sidney didn’t fix anything, not really, but it helped a little. Enough, at least, for now to make him reconsider long enough to not do anything just yet. “But maybe not this. At least, not yet.”

“That’s something. You want me to stick around for a bit?”

“No, but . . . can I talk to you again? If, um, y’know,” he said, gesturing at the cabinet, and Sidney nodded. 

“Of course, bud. Always. You’ve done so much for us, it’s the least I can do for you,” he said, Danny blinked as the ghost gave him a quick hug before vanishing, likely on his way back to the high school. He really wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but maybe Sidney was right that he could start small rather than jumping into everything all at once. Just not tonight.

Tonight, he was going to go fly and look at some stars in the desperate hope it would help him clear his head and figure out what to do.

Chapter Text

Maddie wanted to believe, at first, that Danny was simply experiencing post-possession disorientation. They kept him out of school for a few days as they waited for the nausea and his strange sense of disconnection from his own body to fade. She and Jack scanned him daily and nightly, checking for any signs that the elusive Phantom had tried to repossess him or overshadow him, but so far there was nothing. Phantom also remained absent from Amity Park since the summoning, and as far as she knew, none of the ghosts had come and tried to see Danny since his possession ended. For the first few days back at school, things seemed better as his teachers reported he hadn’t missed a single class or assignment, and his evenings were spent doing homework with Jazz before enjoying some time with his friends. 

Tucker and Sam were coming over the house again, too. They would play Doomed, watch movies, tell jokes, and eat more junk food than Maddie felt comfortable with. But as much as there was an appearance of normalcy, that was all it was. Something was still terribly wrong with her son, and on his third day back at school, they received a frantic call from Mr. Lancer. There was a fight. Danny was mostly fine besides a bloody nose, but the other kid was seriously injured. Most of the students confirmed Dash provoked him. Tucker and Sam confessed that Danny had been bullied by Dash since he was a freshman, but not once did the teachers do anything to stop it.

She found herself intensely worried that afternoon when they picked him up. Danny was non-responsive, hand clutching his chest as he muttered something over and over to himself. She tried to listen, to figure out what he said, but Maddie couldn’t make out the words. She and Jack brought him up to his room after a brief argument about whether or not to bring him to the hospital, and Jazz promised to keep an eye on Danny while they spoke with the administrators at Casper High. Despite Dash provoking him, Danny was suspended for two days. When she finally got him to talk to her about it the next morning, he said he just couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. Danny promised not to do it again and then retreated to his room.

He spent the next two days quieter than usual, soft-spoken and uncertain. He flinched when anyone came too close, especially if it was her and Jack. When she told him about the suspension, he simply nodded, his hand going up to his chest as his fingers clutched his sweater uneasily. Danny insisted he was fine, that it was just a bad habit and that he wasn’t in any actual pain. Maddie suspected otherwise. At least he had an appointment with the cardiologist again soon. 

But that wasn’t the only thing that frightened her. If they weren’t actively engaging him, Danny did nothing. She found him more than once laying perfectly still on the bed in his room, staring vacantly at the star stickers on his ceiling in a way that remained unsettling no matter how often she saw him doing it. Once or twice she made an excuse to enter, worried he might be dead, only for him to shrug and for the strange atmosphere to fade. 

Depression was Jazz’s answer, and as she watched him she couldn’t deny it. This went beyond mere possession, even past the kind of depression or anxiety she might expect after such a traumatic event. Her son seemed . . . done. Broken. A doll mindlessly moving through the motions of his life in a way that terrified her. He refused to talk to them about his possession, to the point where he wouldn’t even speak the word. He would not answer any questions about Phantom, even though she would think that Danny of all people would want the ghost that did this to him caught so that it could never harm him or anyone else again. 

It didn’t make sense.

She did, then, what she always did at that point as she quietly washed the dishes after dinner. Start with the beginning, reexamine the evidence, and determine if it actually supported their conclusions. It was something she had been doing a lot in the last year. Many of their theories about ghosts were proving incorrect as they continued to study and interact with them. She didn’t know if it was simply because what they studied in the past were closer to shades than the very physical, very present beings that emerged with the opening of the portal, if there were more types of ghosts than what she encountered during her first couple decades of research, or if most of their conclusions were depressingly incorrect, based on incomplete evidence. But she pushed those thoughts aside, trying to focus on her son instead.

The beginning, then. The portal was activated with Danny just outside the opening, exposing him to massive amounts of ectoplasmic radiation. He spent close to two weeks in the hospital, about three of those days comatose, and another two weeks recovering at home once he was finally released. Early symptoms included memory loss, cardiac arrhythmia, bradypnea, muscle spasms, headaches, confusion . . . There was also the odd Lichtenberg figure, which they suspected came from him being shocked while examining the wiring near the control panel, but thankfully it faded rapidly. The only scar he kept from the entire ordeal was the strange, perfectly round circle on the palm of his left hand. Danny claimed he didn’t remember how he got it, and realistically, she had no reason to doubt him, but . . . 

Unable to help herself, she glanced at her son over her shoulder. He was currently slouching on the couch in the living room, watching TV with his sister, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, for all intents and purposes a perfectly ordinary teenager on a Saturday evening. She sighed, wondering if she should be prodding this at all, but she couldn’t help herself as she added another clean plate to the drying rack.

On the surface, the kids’ conclusion was solid if upsetting, and a not-so-small part of her wondered if she was desperately reaching for alternatives to excuse her own inability to see that Danny had been suffering for so long and she missed it. But there were little things that didn’t quite add up right. She and Jack considered possession when he first arrived home. How could they not? The symptoms matched. But they performed several scans as part of their decontamination process with Danny. Every scan came back negative, and while there was a chance their equipment was flawed or ill-equipped to identify an ecto-entity as unusual as Phantom, she found herself doubting the story about Danny being possessed more and more as she considered it.

Because Phantom was a huge part of the problem, wasn’t he? The kids described him as strangely helpful. He willingly offered up Desiree, the key to his true name and his own downfall. There was no way for Phantom to know that the kids wouldn’t get the wish quite right, and despite not getting Phantom’s real name, the kids confirmed that he still answered the summoning, going so far as to point out the things they did wrong and how dangerous their attempt was in the first place. Phantom still allowed himself to be expelled, too, and Maddie struggled to believe that any ghost would willingly surrender its host, not when possession was so difficult in the first place. If he had been possessing Danny, then either Phantom was an even more atypical ecto entity than they thought, or perhaps his relationship with Danny wasn’t what they thought, more symbiotic than parasitic.

Or perhaps their early scans were right, and Phantom never possessed Danny at all.

She dropped the fork she was holding with a small clatter, and she saw Danny glance at her from the living room, blue eyes looking almost green in the light from the TV. “Do you need any help?”

“Thanks, honey, but I’m just about done,” she said as she picked it up off the floor and scrubbed it again briefly under the soapy water before pulling the drain plug out and drying her hands. “I’m going to go down into the lab and do some work for a bit.”

“Tell Danny that he can’t keep hogging the remote all night,” insisted Jazz as Maddie walked into the living room. They were watching some home renovation show again. Lately, Danny rarely watched anything else.

“You could just ask, Jazz. I’m about to head up to my room, anyway,” he grumbled as he stood up and tossed it onto the couch next to her. “Kind of feeling tired.”

Jazz let out a quick thanks, but watched Danny uneasily as he trudged up the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight, she looked back at Maddie, biting her lip. “Therapy?”

Maddie nodded. “He has an appointment in a week. Earliest I could get.” She tried to call and see if they could get him in sooner after what happened at school, but they couldn’t. They suggested keeping a close watch on Danny and bringing him to an emergency room if things got any worse, but she knew Danny loathed the hospital at this point. She worried that the threat of bringing him there would only make him do something drastic, something irreversible.

“It’ll help, Mom. The thing with Dash . . . If we didn’t know Phantom was possessing him, then I would’ve expected something like it to happen sooner or later,” said Jazz. “At least based on what Tucker and Sam said about him bullying Danny.”

“You’re probably right. Don’t stay up too late, okay?” 

“It’s Saturday, Mom,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Goodnight, Jazz.” Heading downstairs, she found Jack sitting at one of the workstations, a cold cup of coffee sitting on a stack of hastily scribbled notes. She walked up behind him and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“What are you working on?” 

“It’s Danny’s decontamination scans,” he said as she sat down on the stool beside him. “From after the accident. There’s definitely no sign of possession, and I’ve been double checking the scanner to make sure it’s functioning right. As far as I can tell, it’s working perfectly.” He frowned as he handed her the stack of readouts, and scanning it quickly she came to the same conclusion.

“Half a step ahead of me, then?”

“Great minds think alike, eh?” he grinned, but his smile faded quickly. “There were too many things about what the kids told us that didn’t make sense. That still don’t make sense, and I’ve been looking into it for a while now.”

“Mostly related to Phantom?” 

“That, but also Danny,” he said, and she blinked. The only thing that made sense to her with respect to the kids’ conclusion about the possession was Danny. They were right to think his symptoms fit, that the classic signs were all there. “I don’t think he was ever possessed, but the only thing that I keep getting caught up on is the kids saying he had a death echo. That shouldn’t be possible unless he’s been possessed or a ghost, and we know he’s not a ghost, but . . . “

She saw him staring at the portal as he drifted off, the metal doors sealed shut to keep ghosts from entering their lab. After Danny’s accident, they considered abandoning their work so they wouldn’t put their kids at risk again, but then the ghosts started coming through the portal. As the only people in town back then with any ghost hunting experience, they knew they were the only ones that could keep everyone in Amity Park, including their children, safe. Eventually they tried to shut it down to see if the ghost attacks would start to dwindle, but the damage was already done. Opening their portal caused a weakening between their world and the Ghost Zone that would last for centuries in Amity Park, and the ghosts continued to come through natural portals that now popped up regularly throughout the town. 

So they reactivated the device, knowing that it at least provided them with a way to safely remove the ghosts rather than storing them in a thermos or other containment device. Although the thermos was powerful, they were still skeptical that any device or field could hold a ghost permanently, especially in the case of some of the much more powerful ones like Phantom.

“He’s not dead,” she said. There was absolutely no way he could be a ghost. “He’s been to too many doctor's appointments. Even Spectra couldn’t fool an echocardiogram.” Probably. If she were being honest, she responded more confidently to Jack than she felt. It seemed unlikely that any mask a ghost could wear would penetrate so deep. She frowned, glancing at the readouts again. Even after a half-dozen decontaminations, Danny continued to maintain low-levels of ectoplasmic radiation. They stopped after the first couple of days when he complained about being nauseous and refused to eat much, realizing there wasn’t much point if all the decontamination processes were harming Danny. “A side-effect from the accident and ectoplasmic exposure, then? We’ve only met a handful of people with permanent ecto contamination.”

“And Danny’s is worse than all of theirs. It’s possible that . . . well. It’s ridiculous.”

Maddie reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re here to present the theories I wouldn’t dream of. What are you thinking?”

“This.” Picking up another print-out, Maddie frowned as she read it. 

“Liminals? They’re a myth, aren’t they?” At the very least, they never found evidence that they were real. There were lots of folks who made claims to be something similar - spiritual mediums and the like - but the ones they encountered failed even the most basic tests when forced to prove their claims.

“Not so sure, Mads. Phantom mentioned it to the kids, remember?” He was right, but Maddie gave it little weight given the uncertainty surrounding Phantom’s intentions. The kids did mention that Phantom talked about needing a liminal to make the summoning work. “It makes sense. Similar symptoms to possession. Near-death experience while exposed to a weak spot between the ghost zone and our world or to sufficient ecto radiation from the Ghost Zone. And Jazz and Valerie both mentioned Danny attempting to form friendships and having a strange affinity with some of the ghosts - that rocker ghost, the lunch lady.”

“And Phantom, I’d bet,” said Maddie as she read the information more closely, and her eyes widened slightly as she read another possible symptom. “A death mark?”

“The scar on his palm - the one he’s told us he can’t explain but seems hyper fixated on?” said Jack. “It fits.”

 “This doesn’t explain his sickness for a few days following the summoning, or even how different he’s been the last two weeks, though.”

“Unless he and Phantom realized the kids thought he was possessed and made a plan together. Think about it, Mads. Obviously something odd is going on, and Danny doesn’t want us to know. He may have just been happy to use this as a way to get us and the kids and everyone else to stop looking too closely, and there are lots of ways he could fake being sick,” said Jack, and she realized he’d been considering this for far longer than she had. Although they both reached the same conclusion about Danny’s possession, it took her husband to make the last, strange leap to something so fantastical that Maddie struggled to believe it was the truth. “I’m guessing, though, that this was all probably a lot further than Danny wanted to take this. Might explain why he’s so much more depressed now than he was before the kids intervened.”

“But why wouldn’t Danny tell us?”

“Who knows? We don’t see ghosts the same way he does. Maybe he worried we wouldn’t understand it or what he’s going through?” Jack shrugged. “The only one who can answer that is Danny.”

“And maybe Phantom,” said Maddie. “But if we’re right, then the fact that he is–well, was doing better in school for a few days until the incident with Dash, reconnecting with his friends, and all of the other changes probably won’t last, will they?”

“I don’t know, Mads. If he’s going to be as depressed as he is right now, I’d rather he go back to skipping classes and failing, because there’s something else about liminals I found, too, that’s got me concerned.” He handed her another paperclipped article, this one written by a name she recognized. Dr. Alyce Winter. Maddie and Jack both went to school with her. She had a lot of respect for Alyce since she was one of only a handful of students seriously interested in paranormal science, a niche field that so many thought was a joke until their portal succeeded in opening a pathway to the Ghost Zone two years ago. “Alyce researched liminals for a few years after she graduated. She’s found a couple of genuine ones, I think, based on what she’s written.”

“And?”

“Most of them die young,” said Jack as he shifted a bit in his chair. “Twenties, maybe thirties at best. The handful of historical records she’s found suggest the same, but the data is a bit patchy and it’s hard to confirm who was or wasn’t a legitimate liminal from the past based on the sources she had. It does seem like it’s gotten worse in recent years, but that could be a flaw with the data sets. Ecto science is still too new a field to have much historical research to pull from.”

“Were they killed by ghosts? Long-term exposure to ectoplasm?”

“It’s unclear what the specific cause is,” he said. “A couple have met pretty violent ends at the hands of someone or something, but others died of illness and there are quite a few suicides. The causes aren’t consistent, but statistically? It’s unlikely it’s all a coincidence. Something about their existence draws death to them, at least according to Alyce’s research, and if she’s right, then Danny . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do, Mads. If we’re right about this, then how do we keep Danny safe?”

As a paranormal scientist, Maddie did not believe in the supernatural in the way that others did. Ghosts, the ghost zone itself–all of it had a scientific basis. All of it could be explained, and that included this, even if she didn’t personally understand it yet. The idea of death being attracted to her son, as if it were a near-sentient force, was too hard for her to swallow, which meant there had to be something else happening here. “Have you reached out to Alyce?”

“Not yet. I was debating whether to mention anything specific or not. Most of what I was hoping to ask her was if she knew whether or not liminals could have something similar to a death echo, like Danny did,” said Jack. “I haven’t found anything in the research about it, and ectoplasmic manipulation seems like a stretch for a human, but I can’t find anything else that remotely fits since the kids’ theory about possession seems too flawed. It’s possible this still isn’t correct, but unless Danny is somehow, actually dead, I can’t see another thing that fits.”

“She’ll want to run tests on him, if she can,”  said Maddie, squeezing his hand tightly as she refused to entertain the thought that Danny might have died for a second time that night. “But Danny would probably hate that. Let’s reach out and keep it short on details for now.”

“Should we talk to Danny? Jazz?” That was the real question, wasn’t it? Her son deserved to know, to have an explanation for what he was and what might happen to him if he was never actually possessed. But they still had so little information. Most of this was based on a hunch and a couple of pieces of data that didn’t quite line up with the hypothesis the kids developed.

“I think we need to figure out a way to confirm our suspicions as much as we can first,” said Maddie.  “I don’t want to frighten either of them needlessly, especially when Danny’s already clearly struggling so much.”

Jack winced as he took a sip of his cold coffee. “I don’t want to wait too long, Mads. I’m worried about him.”

“Why don’t we tell him at least the first part of what we suspect? About him being a liminal and then leave out the rest about his lifespan potentially being shorter because of it?” she suggested. “It’s possible Danny already knows something, especially if Phantom did have some kind of connection with him, and at the very least we might be able to get him to admit that he wasn’t possessed.” She couldn’t bring herself to use the word friendship to describe her son’s relationship with Phantom. Friendship implied something more than what was truly possible, even if Danny’s connection to Phantom may have felt stronger to Danny than it actually was. 

Standing up, she took a long, steadying breath. She didn’t know how Danny would react to this conversation, because as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know much of anything about her son at this point, the distance between them greater than it ever had been before. She never imagined her son being severely depressed, getting into fights, or trying to befriend ghosts. “I’ll talk to Danny now if he’s still awake. Can you talk to Jazz, too? I don’t want to leave her out of this, and after everything she and the kids did for Danny, I think she deserves to know what we’re thinking.”

Jack nodded as he scooped up most of his research and put it back inside the drawer before walking over to the lab sink and dumping the remains of his coffee. The two of them went upstairs, and Jack gave Maddie a quick squeeze on the shoulder as she walked past the living room.

“You’re out of the lab way earlier than I would’ve expected,” said Jazz, seeing the two of them, and then she frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Sort of. Your father’s going to fill you in, okay?” said Maddie, giving her a quick hug. “I need to go talk to Danny.”

Jazz sat up quickly, putting the TV on mute as she glanced between the two of them. “Not all of us together?”

“Not yet,” said Maddie, and heading upstairs she walked to her son’s room, knowing there was a chance he was still asleep, but as she peeked inside the bed was clearly empty. She felt her heart begin to race a bit, but Maddie forced herself to stay calm. A few weeks ago, this would have been normal, even if it made her worry endlessly. She’d gotten used to Danny staying home already, though, and the sight unsettled her, especially given Jack’s revelation about liminals not living long and Danny’s current depression. She couldn’t imagine her son hurting himself that way, but much as she hated to admit it, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. 

Biting her lip, she headed upstairs to the Ops Center. Danny used to go and sit up on the roof to look at the stars. It was still hard to see more than a few given the light pollution, but it was the best view of the sky around, and as she quietly opened the door Maddie saw that he was indeed sitting there, but he was not alone. 

A small, ghostly, green dog she spotted a few times around town before sat beside him, and as she walked out onto the roof it turned and growled a warning. Danny turned, eyes wide as he saw her, and glancing rapidly between her and the dog, she saw his shoulders drop. “Cujo, it’s okay,” he said carefully, gently picking up the dog and putting it in his lap. He gave it a quick scratch behind the ears, smiling at it before glancing back at her. “I–Listen, Mom, please don’t do anything to him, okay? I know he’s a ghost, but he’s just . . . he’s a dog. He won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. That wasn’t what she needed to do right now, not if she wanted to help her son, and she could keep a close watch. She had a blaster on her belt, and could easily activate the anti-ghost defense system if necessary. “Okay, Danny. I trust you. Do you mind if I sit down?” 

He glanced back down at the dog, considering, and then finally said, “Sure. The view is terrible tonight, though. It’s too cloudy.”

“That’s a shame.” Sitting down carefully beside him, she saw the dog give a half-growl at her as he continued to pet it. 

“Hey, come on, I just vouched for you,” scolded Danny, and Cujo relaxed as Danny scratched under his chin. “She won’t hurt you, promise. Right?”

“Right,” she agreed as the dog continued to eye her distrustfully. It was then that she noticed the symbol on the dog tag. “Isn’t that the logo for Axion labs?” 

“He was a guard dog there when he was still alive. Most of the havoc he caused the first couple of times he came to Amity was because he was looking for his favorite squeaky toy.” Danny slowly stopped petting Cujo, letting his hand simply rest on the dog’s side. “A lot of the ghosts aren’t as bad as you think.”

It was as good an invitation as any. “You were never possessed, were you, Danny?” His shoulders tensed, and she saw his fingers grip Cujo a little tighter. “The only time it could have happened was after your accident. Your father and I checked back then. We wanted to believe the story, at first, since it was an easy explanation for why you were struggling, but both of us realized that wasn’t it, especially after how you’ve been the last two weeks.”

“Because I haven’t been much better, right? Being possessed was supposed to be the magical cure-all that led to me hanging out with my friends again, passing my classes, and no longer skipping school.” She started, surprised by the bitterness in his voice enough that she barely registered him saying the word ‘possession’ for once. “I wanted to do better. I really did. But I just couldn’t. I–realizing that everyone hated me and thought I was a disappointment, I just–I . . .” The words died, his fingers gripping Cujo tightly, and she could see tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry. That me being possessed was a better alternative than me just being, well, me.”

“Danny, none of us hate you,” she said quickly, and then she paused, considering her next words carefully. “We want you to do well in school and to see you spending time with your friends, but more than that, we want you to be happy. That’s all your friends and sister and father want, too, and you weren’t happy before and you aren’t now. I think that you’re trying, incredibly hard, to be a good son and friend and brother, and I appreciate how much you’re trying and how much you’ve always tried. I don’t think you’re a disappointment, either. We’ve all just always been worried about you, and your friends and sister thought that if this was the answer, then maybe you could find a way to be happy again, hon.”

She was rambling, but she pushed on as he kept his eyes locked on Cujo, his expression still so guarded. “But I think you were always trying, and I’m worried that by pushing all these feelings and thoughts down like this . . . I don’t think you can keep doing it because I don’t think anything’s fixed or changed. Not really. And knowing that you’ve been feeling worse these two weeks than you were before because you feel like your friends and your father and I were rejecting who you were when we assumed you were possessed, that’s–I’m–I’m so, so sorry, Danny. I never wanted you to feel that way. We’re all just worried, and even if it’s hard, I want to help you however I can. We all do.”

She put a hand on his knee, giving it a small squeeze as she suppressed a shiver. Danny was still so cold now, and although she wasn’t touching Cujo, she could feel the icy air radiating from the dog as well. Even knowing what her son probably was, intuitively she could not grasp how Danny could hold the ghost so easily in his lap and seem so comfortable. “Your father has a theory,” she said eventually, when Danny remained stubbornly silent. “About you.”

The world around them felt as if it came to a complete standstill, and although Danny didn’t show any obvious reactions, the dog looked up at her son, its eyes intensely focused on him. “Oh?” Danny didn’t look at her, staring off across the roof at seemingly nothing. 

“Have you ever heard of liminals?” He gave the barest fraction of a nod. “Did Phantom explain what they are?”

“You mean what I am?” he said, finally looking at her as he wiped the tears away. “Yeah. Most of the other ghosts, I don’t think they’ve realized it. Or maybe they did and were too polite to mention it.”

Polite was not a word she would ever associate with a ghost, but that was hardly an argument worth having with Danny right now. “What did he tell you about it?”

“Liminals are created when they have a near-death experience, usually near a natural portal or other weak spot between the Infinite Realms and Earth,” he said, and although she hadn’t heard the term ‘Infinite Realms’ before, she assumed he was referring to the Ghost Zone. Perhaps it was the term used by ghosts for it. “They say it’s like we have a foot in both worlds, I guess. Ghosts tend to like us because we kind of understand them better than normal people do. And I guess there are things we can do that other people can’t, like summonings and stuff. And I can sense when ghosts are nearby.”

So his teacher was right. Mr. Lancer mentioned that Danny had an uncanny knack for predicting ghost attacks when they met with him a few weeks ago to discuss his academic performance, a meeting that now felt like an eon ago in light of everything that happened recently. “Did he tell you anything else?” 

“Not really, no. I don’t think it’s super common,” said Danny. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked, and he gave her an indignant look.

“Seriously, Mom? You two are all about tearing ghosts apart molecule by molecule, while I felt a compulsion to try to talk to them and reach them and help them find some kind of peace,” said Danny. “Not to mention that the death echo and stuff makes me kind of weird and kind of, well, kind of like a ghost sometimes. I was scared how you’d both react, that you might not–that you’d try to experiment on me or that you’d–” He shook his head, rubbing away what looked suspiciously like a few more tears, and this time she threw an arm around him as Cujo growled a warning. She didn’t care. The dog could bite her if he wanted, but she was going to hug her son.

“I’m so sorry, Danny, that we made you feel that way,” she said, and she felt tears burning in her own eyes. “I never wanted you to feel like you couldn’t trust us. I hope your father and I can prove to you that we’re ready to help you with this, however we can.”

“Help?” He pulled away from her, an eyebrow raised. “You know this isn’t a thing you can fix, right?”

She blinked, surprised by the hostility from him, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been. “That’s not what I meant, Danny. I just meant maybe we could help you find more about what it means, or find others like you that you could talk to and get some answers from if you were interested. Maybe we–maybe you could tell us about the ghosts, too. Phantom alone has caused dozens of our theories to fall apart.”

“I won’t help you hurt them, Mom,” he said, and for a brief moment she would almost swear his eyes flashed green. Trick of the light, most likely. Or perhaps there were more side effects than Danny had let on or even knew about himself, her mind drifting to the moment he sat in the living room an hour or so ago now when his eyes appeared to reflect a strange, green light. How many little signs and symptoms had she missed over the years or simply dismissed?

“I’m not asking you to. Jazz said you’ve been forming friendships with some of them, right?” She loathed using the word - friendship wasn’t a concept ghosts understood - but it was the one Danny would probably use. “And ones like Cujo are, well, not harmless, but not looking to cause harm. Maybe you could help us know which ghosts those are, and we can try to work with you to handle them differently. And maybe you don’t need to hide when you’re meeting with them. We can all just try to adapt. To do better.”

It was not a promise she intended to make, especially not without talking to Jack, but this moment on the roof convinced her that it was the only way to even begin to regain Danny’s trust. Jack would understand, and, while she didn’t trust the ghosts, she did trust her son. He could be naive, of course, but he probably wasn’t entirely wrong. She really hadn’t seen Cujo attack anyone or anything in a long time, not since his first few weeks in Amity Park. Fewer ghost attacks would be better for everyone, not least of all her and Jack. Ever since Phantom retreated to the Ghost Zone two weeks ago, they found themselves shouldering a much bigger burden than they were used to.

She wondered, still, what her son’s relationship with Phantom was, what connection the two held. It had to be something powerful for Phantom to risk himself in the summoning just to try to protect Danny’s secret, but she doubted Danny would tell her yet. 

“Okay,” he agreed at last. “But you and Dad have to keep an open mind about it. You have to trust me. I know a lot more about them than you think.” She didn’t miss what he really meant - that he believed he knew more about the ghosts than she or Jack. It was incredibly unlikely, but what Danny needed here was a little trust from her and Jack, a willingness to at least reconsider what they knew.

And since they were already doing that, anyway, and since nothing Danny said would stop her from watching his back with a blaster in her pocket, she agreed. “I trust you. And I’ll get your father onboard, don’t you worry. He’ll just be excited that you’re actually interested in ghosts.”

“He probably will be, huh? Well, let him know I’m not going to wear a jumpsuit. Pretty sure it’s a little too late for me to be worrying about ectoplasmic radiation.” He grinned at her, the first real one she’d seen outside of the small one he’d given to Cujo, in weeks.

“They’re stylish and functional, son, and I’d urge you to reconsider,” she said, smiling back at him as she gave him another quick hug before standing up. “Oh, and Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“I assume Phantom is on the friends list for you?” He nodded. “If you see him, then tell him he’s got a truce with me and your father. I can’t do anything about the Red Huntress, but the two of us are willing to work with him as long as he’s not hurting you or anyone else.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “I–I’ll tell him,” he stuttered. “I don’t know if he’ll come back, though.”

“We’ve given him a lot of reasons not to,” she said. She still didn’t really trust Phantom, but she and Jack could keep an eye on it, and if Danny met with the ghost while under their careful watch, it was still a much better situation than him sneaking off to do it instead. “And Danny?”

“What, Mom?” he groaned, flopping onto his back, and Cujo excitedly jumped onto his chest and began licking his face while he protested and pushed the puppy away. 

“You should tell your friends the truth, too. Your father’s talking to your sister right now since we didn’t know if you knew or not, but they deserve to know, too. They care a lot about you, enough to risk summoning a potentially angry ghost with no way to keep themselves safe except a couple of blasters. Friends like that are pretty rare, hon,” she said, and she was a little surprised he hadn’t confessed the truth to them sooner. She suspected there was still a lot more they didn’t know about this, but hopefully, at least, they’d taken the first step towards Danny trusting all of them again. 

She expected him to argue, but instead he sighed as he stared at his hand for a minute and rubbed the spot on his palm. “Yeah. Okay.”

Chapter Text

Sam sat on the sofa in the Fentons' living room. The couch was about twenty years old and completely worn down, and there were patches sewn on a few of the cushions, some of them in the shapes of little ghosts that she suspected were done by Danny’s dad. Her parents would find it garish. Appalling. 

Sam loved it.

Her life with her family was stifling, a constant push to be someone and something she wasn’t, and she found it exhausting. Going over to Tucker or Danny’s house felt energizing. Their families, their homes all felt lived in and loved and like real people existed there, not just mannequins making sure they created the perfect, picturesque shot for some politician or business partner or reporter.

When their relationship with Danny fractured, she found she missed coming here, being a part of this and his home and his family, almost as much as her actual friendship with Danny. It felt selfish and uncomfortable, a shameful thing to admit somehow, so she pushed the feeling down. And when they finally figured it out and saved him from Phantom two weeks ago? When she was invited back here, got her friend back and found herself coming over almost daily again to play Doomed?

Well, it made her want to overlook the obvious. Despite the jokes, the texts, video games, and movie nights, Danny was still not okay. Something was still very wrong with him, something that probably went deeper than some trauma post-possession. The person who sat next to her, grinning as she triumphantly took out another enemy and gave her a quick high five, was still broken, and nothing made that clearer than when he fought back against Dash. She and Tucker both didn’t know Danny even could fight, and while she felt no sympathy for Dash, she saw how messed up it left Danny afterward. He ghosted them for a few days, finally sending a message late Saturday night after missing their scheduled time to play Doomed on Friday with a quick request to talk to them.

And so she and Tucker and Valerie found themselves sitting with Danny in his living room as he brought everything crashing down around them and finally told them the truth. Sam was struggling to believe it. The signs had all been so obvious that it was hard to believe he was this liminal thing and not possessed by Phantom.

“You weren’t possessed?” 

“No.” He spoke softly, but with an intense finality that brooked no argument. “Ask my parents - they can confirm it.”

“But Desiree gave us Phantom’s name.”

“She lied. Kind of,” he said, rubbing the scar on his palm with his thumb, refusing to look at any of them while he spoke. “I figured out what you were thinking and what you were planning. Jazz isn’t nearly as sneaky as she thinks.” He gave a small smile, but it faded quickly. “As soon as I found out, I convinced Desiree to go along with it, and we had Phantom overshadow me while you were doing the stuff in the basement so she could technically grant your wish or whatever.” 

“Phantom made it sound like he was the one that dated me,” said Val. “When we had him in the circle.”

“He was committed to helping me, and he knows me really well and just . . . He kind of owed me, big time, for helping him,” said Danny, and he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Look. I’m sorry I lied to all of you. Again. I just–I hoped, I guess, that somehow this would fix everything. That I could try to get back to normal or whatever. And I can’t. It’ll never happen because I’m not normal.”

“I like not normal, remember?” said Sam. “And if you’re this liminal thing or whatever, that’s okay. I don’t get why you wouldn’t tell us.”

“I was scared.” His eyes were locked on the floor as he picked at a loose thread on the couch. “The lunch lady was the first real ghost I met. She . . . she was nice to me. Kind. And then an hour later, she attacked you because you changed the menu. And that was my fault, Sam. I’m the one who told her. I didn’t realize–I didn’t know she would try to hurt you, but it doesn’t make it okay.” 

Sam stared, not sure what to say. She never knew who told the Lunch Lady that she was the one who requested the school test out a vegan menu for a week. She never even really thought about it, figuring it didn’t matter. “She would have worked it out somehow. I don’t blame you,” said Sam, and she genuinely meant it. “You didn’t even believe in ghosts before that.”

“I . . . thanks, Sam, but if we’re trying to go full disclosure here, then I still feel pretty lousy about it,” he said, shaking his head. “And I didn’t want it to happen again, so when I realized that the ghosts were friendlier with me than other people, I thought that maybe I could try to change things. Try to talk to them, help them work through whatever their obsession was in a way that meant nobody had to get hurt. But I was scared you’d hate me, Sam, because I know she tried to hurt you, and now I was trying to talk to her and the others like her, and I just . . . I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad you tried to look for a peaceful solution, Danny,” she said, a bit surprised that he would assume the worst. “I’m all for pacifism, and I get that you thought you could find a way. And I’d rather never be in a ghost attack again, so if baking cookies or whatever with her means she stops, then so be it. Just don’t ask me to do it.”

“How’d you figure it out?” asked Tucker. “That you were a liminal?”

“Some of the stuff I picked up on right away. We live over the portal, so it didn’t take me long to realize the weird chills I was getting were from sensing ghosts. But the other stuff took longer, and there’s still stuff I don’t know,” he said. “Like the death echo. I had no idea that would happen, and it freaked me out as badly as it scared you. And Phantom was the first ghost I met that raised the possibility of what I actually was, and why the ghosts liked me and why I felt so . . . half out of step with everything. It’s hard to explain it, like . . .” He stared at his hand again, rubbing his palm with his thumb. What they once thought was a scar but was apparently some kind of death mark, some symbol of how he crossed partially over a threshold and impossibly survived. 

“There are things I just know now, intuitively. I know that ghosts recognize their death days instead of birthdays. I know that during a few days in December, they’ve got a strict truce and non-violence pact, and I know those that violate it are heavily condemned by the others. They even have a different language they can speak, and I know it, somehow, without ever taking a lesson in it.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, and Sam could see that he was trembling slightly. Even now, he was still scared of how they’d react, and it hurt that he thought that she and Tucker couldn’t accept this. Valerie made sense - her hatred of ghosts was legendary - but them? They were supposed to be his best friends, and it stung more than she wanted to admit that Danny never trusted them enough to be himself, though whether it was because of the lies or because she felt like it meant she failed him as a friend, somehow, she didn’t know. 

“Honestly, if I hadn’t been going to the doctors and had them confirm my heart was still beating and I was still breathing and still, well, alive, then I would’ve started to think I was a ghost. I don’t know how to explain just how much all of this scares me, okay? I don’t know how it wouldn’t scare anyone else. So I didn’t tell anyone. Not you, not my parents, not Jazz,” he said, glancing up at Valerie. “And when I realized that I messed up, that you’d seen something that wasn’t, that couldn’t be explained by anything but something ghostly, I panicked. And Phantom, well, I’ve been helping him for a while. There are a lot of ghosts that even I can’t convince to be friendly. He was interested in stopping them. Since I could sense the ghosts and because they had a tendency to be drawn to wherever I was because of what I am, it just seemed to make sense that we work together. I used the thermos and carried him around in it most of the time, and when a ghost showed up, I let him out to fight it. It’s why I miss so many classes.”

“It’s how he disappears from my tracker, isn’t it?” said Val, and he nodded.

“Yeah, although sometimes I had to let him overshadow me for a minute to get away if I couldn’t get him in the thermos fast enough or without someone noticing. It’s not like a normal overshadowing. He’s just kind of there, I guess? But he can’t control me, or at least, he’s never tried to,” he said, and then he glanced at the kitchen uneasily. “My, um, parents don’t know about this part yet, to be honest. I don’t think they’d react super well if they knew I was putting myself in danger during the ghost attacks, and I think knowing I’m doing it to help Phantom fight the ghosts would make that even worse. But his obsession is connected to keeping people safe, and because I’ve helped him so much, he was willing to go pretty far to keep my secret a secret. He tried to convince me to tell you all the truth, saying this probably wouldn’t work for long, actually, and I . . . I should’ve listened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I get if you don’t want to be around me anymore, whether it’s because of the ghost stuff or just because I know I’ve been a pretty  lousy friend.”

“You’ve definitely been a lousy friend, but I feel like if we ditched you now then you’d just use that to justify all the secret keeping you’ve been doing,” said Tucker. “So we’re not, like, great right now, but I’m not going to abandon you just yet. We’ve been friends for years, man. And Sam sucks at co-op in Doomed. Val doesn’t even play.”

“Who the hell has time for video games?” she groused. “I’ve got two part-time jobs and school. But I’m with Tucker, Danny. This stuff . . . I’m worried about you. And I know what an idealist you are when it comes to the ghosts, and I don’t want to see you get hurt because of it. I don’t know that what you’re doing right now is smart, but I’ll at least be there to watch your back if you keep insisting on doing it.”

“Sam?” 

“It hurts that you couldn’t trust us, Danny,” she said. She wasn’t going to mince words or pretend everything was fine now. “And I’m worried that there’s something you’re still not telling us or that maybe you’re not even telling us the truth now, because you’ve just lied so much at this point and you already admitted to keeping even more stuff from your parents.” She could see Tucker out of the corner of his eye shaking his head just a fraction, trying to push her not to say it, but she would. She wouldn’t lie to her friends, not about something this important. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, and that’s kind of a bad thing for maintaining a friendship.”

He swallowed, looking down at his hand, and she could see him digging his nail sharply into his palm. “There are a few things I’m not telling you yet,” he admitted. “And I get if it’s too much, Sam. I won’t blame you if you don’t–I don’t want to hurt you again, but I can’t promise that won’t happen.”

“That might be the most honest thing you’ve said to me in almost two years, Danny,” she sighed, knowing she would probably regret what she was about to say next. “Which doesn’t mean I trust you. But I’m willing to give this a chance, mostly because I’m pretty sure Tucker wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t.”

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll try to make sure you don’t regret it,” he said, almost reading her mind, and she shivered. 

“So are you going to start working with Phantom again?” asked Val. Sam had been wondering about it, too, now that the ghost’s name was effectively in the clear, but no one had seen him for a couple of weeks.

“If he comes back? Probably,” said Danny. “I don’t know if he will. We kind of thought the fake-possession cover would last longer and I think he’s hiding out in the Ghost Zone.”

“If it wasn’t for your parents, it probably would have,” said Sam. “Kind of impressed they figured it out.”

“I’m impressed they were paying so much attention,” said Danny. “And honestly? I’m kind of glad, too. Sometimes they get so focused on their work that it feels like they don’t notice much. But they don’t know the extent of the stuff with Phantom, just that he’s one of the ghosts I talk to. They’ve offered him a truce, for now at least.”

“And I bet you’re expecting the same thing from me, huh?” Val twirled one of her curls around her finger. “It’s fine, Danny. I won’t shoot first, but that’s all that I’ll promise you.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“So do you, like, get any other cool ghost powers?” asked Tucker. “Can you walk through walls, disappear, fly?”

Danny rolled his eyes as he scowled. “I’m not an actual ghost, Tucker.”

“Yeah, but you’re kind of like a half-ghost or something, right? The whole one foot in both worlds thing?” 

“I mean, the ghosts say it that way, but it’s definitely not that clear cut,” said Danny. “Some liminals can’t do more than sense nearby ghosts. Some of them can do stuff as crazy as open portals, which isn’t something I’ve ever managed to do. There doesn’t really seem to be a logic behind who gets what skills. And I don’t know how much the ghost culture knowledge gets . . . downloaded? Jeez, that makes it sound like the Matrix or something, but I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“We could try to help you find another liminal, Danny, if you think there’s a chance one might be out there somewhere,” offered Sam. “I’ve got a lot of ties to occult circles, and I bet someone that can sense or talk to ghosts outside of Amity Park would be pretty well-known.” There were lots of supposed mediums in the world, though, and a lot of the ones she encountered so far were obvious fakes, their only skill being brilliant cold reads. She doubted all of them had death marks as clear as Danny’s own, if at all, and even his could still easily be mistaken for a regular scar.

“That’d be cool,” he said. “My parents think they might have a colleague who could introduce us to a few others that are out there, too, so I might get a chance to meet someone else that gets the whole freaky not-quite-dead thing even if you can’t find someone.”

“Can you say something in the dead language?” asked Tucker, and Sam rolled her eyes. “What? He’s got at least one or two superpowers, apparently. I just want to see him do something.”

“The death echo wasn’t creepy enough?” said Sam, and Tucker shuddered. That moment haunted her dreams for weeks. She wasn’t eager for a repeat experience.

“This is just like words. It shouldn’t be that bad, right?” said Tucker, looking over at Danny. “Right?”

“Uh, no, it’s kind of awful sounding,” he sighed, but then he spoke . . . something. It sounded not so much like words as crackling, awful static and echoes looping endlessly down a tunnel. It was a sound that should have been impossible for a human to make, and goosebumps appeared on her arms and legs as she winced. 

“Jeez, Danny, don’t ever do that again!” hissed Valerie, hands over her ears, and Tucker looked pale. “What the hell did you say?!”

“My name.”

“How did you even say it?!” asked Tucker. “Those sounds, dude . . . ugh.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, fidgeting in his chair as he glanced at the kitchen. His parents were in the lab, his sister was upstairs studying. They all agreed to give him space while he spoke to them. “And I don’t know how I say it, I just kind of do it.”

“Your folks know about that little trick?” asked Sam. 

“No. I think they’d ask me to try to teach them, even though I don’t think it’s possible and it’s probably a waste of time since most of the ghosts in Amity Park don’t use it when they’re here. Ghost speech is . . . it’s kind of like openly revealing a piece of yourself that you might not want anyone to see. There’s a kind of weight to it that regular human speech doesn’t have, a kind of . . . promise or sort of inherent truth to it, I guess?” he said, staring off, and he shook his head. “Sorry. I realize that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Honestly, I’m glad. I don’t think I need anything that would make the ghost attacks even creepier than they already are,” said Sam, and suddenly he shivered and his breath fogged in front of him.

“Ghost?” said Tucker. They both recognized it as Danny’s ghost sense after seeing it so much in class, although she was surprised he didn’t cough. Then again, maybe that was just a cover for his breath fogging in front of him, and it made Sam wonder how many other little things he did to hide the truth from them and everyone else in his life. 

“Yeah. I should go check it out,” he said as he jumped to his feet. “Are you all okay staying here for a minute?”

“Nope,” said Val at the same time that Sam gave an emphatic,“Yes.”

“Right. Um, Tucker and Sam, feel free to stay back. Val . . just, like, don’t shoot anything right away, okay?” he said, and Sam could hear her arguing with him as they went through the kitchen and out the back door. 

“You okay?” asked Tucker once they were gone. 

“Yeah, it’s just kind of a lot to take in. And I guess I’m worried that Danny’s going to go back to missing classes and not seeing us anymore. That we’re just going to fall apart, still, because this ghost stuff is more important to him,” she said. It felt intensely selfish to say the words out loud, knowing what he was doing now to try and keep them safe despite how much his weird liminal status clearly terrified him.

“It figures, doesn’t it? That he gets frustrated that his parents care more about the ghosts than him and Jazz sometimes and now he’s doing the exact same thing to us?” Sam hadn’t quite thought about it that way, but Tucker wasn’t exactly wrong, either. “I mean, I get it, I guess. It’s kind of hard to ignore something that’s a part of you, and it sounds like the ghosts would find Danny even if he tried to avoid them. But it still sucks to think that even though we know what’s been going on with Danny there still isn’t anything we can really do. Like, at least Val can help hunt ghosts.”

“Yeah, I guess they can start dating again or whatever,” she muttered. She wasn’t jealous. There was a time she would have been, but Danny had broken her trust so much since freshman year that it was hard to muster up the feelings she once had for him. 

“I don’t think they will,” said Tucker. “They’ve still got too much stuff to work out, and much as Val says she doesn’t care about this ghost stuff going on with Danny, I can tell she’s kind of freaked out, too. She’s just better at hiding it.”

“You’re probably right,” she said as she glanced at the kitchen door. “Wonder what ghost it is.”

“You want to check it out?” 

“I really don’t want to get hurt,” said Sam, which wasn’t a no, not exactly. She wanted to help, too, but she didn’t know what she or Tucker could possibly do. Neither of them had a super high tech suit like Valerie or weird powers like Danny. “But I’m worried about him, Tucker. I feel like he’s in over his head and that this stuff is going to get him seriously hurt or killed.”

“Then maybe I should go get his parents. They’re in the lab, right?” he asked, and Sam nodded as he stood up and hurried into the kitchen and down the basement stairs. She sat on the couch alone for a moment, her finger running across one of the patchwork ghosts sewn into it, and then sighed as she jumped to her feet and went to look out the back window. 

Right now, at least, things looked like they were under control. Danny was talking to Ember, who while clearly angry, at least wasn’t attacking. Val stood nearby, arms crossed as she watched the two of them. After a minute Danny turned to Val, asking her something (maybe about a thermos? Sam wasn’t exactly a super talented lip reader) and then Val stormed inside. “Everything okay?” 

“No. That idiot wants to give her the thermos with Skulker and Desiree,” she said as she slammed the door behind her. “Did we ever take it out of the basement with us?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Sam as she followed Valerie to the lab door just as the Fentons and Tucker were coming up. 

“Sam?” said Mr. Fenton.

“We need the thermos with Skulker and Desiree in it,” she said. “It should still be down there from a couple of weeks ago unless one of you emptied it.”

“Why?” asked Mrs. Fenton.

“Skulker’s apparently Ember’s boyfriend or whatever. She misses him, and Danny says we should turn him over,” grumbled Valerie. Right. Skulker had said as much while talking to Desiree, hadn’t he? Sam barely gave it any thought at the time, too focused on trying to help Danny. “I’d prefer to just stuff Ember in a thermos, too, after everything she’s done, but I promised I’d let him take the lead on this one.”

The Fentons glanced at each other uneasily, clearly not in favor of their son’s decision, either. Honestly, Sam didn’t understand why Danny or Phantom would ever let a ghost out of the thermos once they caught it. They were dangerous. They didn’t deserve their freedom as long as all they did was use it to hurt people. But then again, people used the same justification to keep lots of ordinary people locked up, put away for life, even for seemingly minor things . . . What the ghosts weren’t doing was minor, necessarily but if Danny was right that they were able to be rehabilitated in some way, then locking them up in a tiny little cage for the remainder of their afterlife probably wasn’t okay, either.

Maybe. Ugh.

She hated questioning her ethics like this. Normally she felt so sure, so confident, but this whole mess left her spinning in circles, unable to be certain about what was right or wrong. No wonder Danny wondered whether or not she’d be okay with what he was doing with the ghosts. 

Mrs. Fenton ran back down into the lab with Val while Danny’s Dad stayed in the kitchen, watching Danny and Ember uneasily through the window. Sam could hear her yelling something about the thermos and being trapped, but Danny’s voice was inaudible. She could see him holding out his hands, his body language the sort a person would use when talking to a scared, angry dog. 

“I really want to go out there,” said Jack, “but I’m worried I’ll make things worse and that she’ll hurt him.”

“I know the feeling.” Sam desperately wanted to help, but little by little she could see that whatever Danny was saying, it was working as Ember’s hair went from a roaring blaze to a glimmer. Her guitar still hung in front of her, which Sam knew Ember could use to mind control people and attack with, but she was obviously calming down. “He does seem to know what he’s doing though, doesn’t he?”

“He’s a Fenton,” said Jack simply as Val came upstairs, thermos in hand. 

“Is that it?” 

“We think so. We had to check it against the logs downstairs, but this should be the one she’s looking for,” said Maddie. “I’ll bring it out.”

“Uh, that’s probably a bad idea, isn’t it?” said Tucker. “Haven’t you tried to experiment on her or catch her dozens of times?”

“So has Valerie,” pointed out Sam, remembering how agitated Ember looked when she was outside, and Tucker frowned as they looked back out the window. In that moment, she realized that she could do something here, even if it wasn’t fight the ghosts or talk them down the way Danny could. It was small, but it mattered. 

“Valerie’s hunted ghosts?” said Mr. Fenton.

“I keep a blaster in my purse,” Valerie squeaked, shooting a brief glare at Sam. “Y’know, just in case?”

The defense sounded feeble even to Sam, and she suspected Val’s secret would be out to the Fentons soon. Right now, though, she realized that she wasn’t useless here, since only she and Tucker had no real history with Ember beyond getting hypnotized by her once ages ago. “I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” Tucker asked, obviously worried she would have another panic attack, but that was exactly why she had to do this. While logically she knew she had little to no control over whether or not she had a panic attack, emotionally, she was so tired of being afraid and anxious all the time. 

“He seems to have it under control. I think it’ll be okay,” she said with way more confidence than she actually felt, and grabbing the thermos from Mrs. Fenton, Sam walked outside. 

Sam felt her heart start to race as she approached the two of them, and she slowly counted to five as she breathed in, held it for five seconds, and then breathed out for five seconds, repeating it as she closed the distance between them. She focused on the sound of the neighbor’s wind chime tinkling, the faint chill in the breeze, the smell of the first flowers blooming, and the grass beneath her feet. If she could keep her breathing under control and continue to focus on the present moment, she would be okay. 

“I’ve got the thermos,” said Sam, her voice cracking. The air around Ember had a bite to it that made Sam’s teeth ache. Even when her hair wasn’t actively on fire, Ember made the hair on Sam’s skin stand on end, a weird combination of feeling like frostbite and the worst sunburn she’d ever gotten. She used to wonder how Danny and the others could stand it, but after she mentioned it to Tucker once, she realized most people didn’t react to the ghosts this way or feel their presence as intensely as she did. Sam hated it, since it was just one more thing about the ghost attacks that made it harder for her to deal with. The only one she hadn’t felt that intense discomfort from was Phantom. The strange atmosphere was there, but it felt comfortable back then rather than hostile.

“Thanks, Sam.” Danny grabbed the thermos with one hand and gently grabbed her hand with his other one. His fingers were ice cold as they gripped hers tightly and she felt a shiver run down her back, but the strange bite to the air vanished, and instead she felt like she was outside while bundled up on a sunny winter day. It was cold, but not unpleasant, reminding her eerily of the time Phantom led her out of the school. She wondered if Danny knew that would happen or not, or if he realized he felt so much like Phantom. Maybe it was because of all the times Phantom overshadowed him, however briefly. 

“This your girlfriend? She’s cute, babypop,” said Ember as she swung her guitar onto her back and her fiery hair went completely out. She could easily pass for a human in the punk rock scene now if you could ignore the frightening atmosphere. No wonder Danny worried he might actually be dead after learning he had weird, ghostly attributes. 

“She’s my friend,” corrected Danny, and she had no idea how he stayed so calm. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Experience, probably. He did spend close to two years communicating with the ghosts. “Like you are.”

“Ohhh, bold words, dipstick, for someone who let my boyfriend stay trapped in a thermos for so long,” she said, and Sam was surprised as she felt a twinge of jealousy. She knew Danny spent time with the ghosts, knew he was friendly with them, but this? Danny wasn’t lying. They genuinely felt like friends in a way she and Danny hadn’t in ages. 

“I didn’t know,” he said as he handed it over to her. “Really. I’m sorry. But, uh, please don’t empty that until you get into the Ghost Zone again. It’s also got Desiree in it.”

Ember nodded as she took it from him. “While I’m tempted to chuck this thing into a dark hole when I’m done, I’ll give it back to you at our next lesson as long as you promise not to let your parents keep Skulker trapped in there again for so long. Assuming you’re still interested, anyway?”

“Yeah, I am. And I promise, Ember. Thanks.” Ember vanished and, after a moment, Danny let go of her hand. The weird, protective bubble was gone, but so was the strange icy burn caused by Ember’s presence. “You okay, Sam?”

“Not really,” she admitted as she rubbed the goosebumps that covered her arms. “Did you know you could do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Make the space around Ember feel less creepy?” she clarified, and he stared at her. “I’m gonna guess that’s a no, but when you grabbed my hand, it made the air stop feeling so suffocating around her.”

“I didn’t even know the air felt weird around her,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Ah. She was right, then, that for some reason it didn’t affect him, despite him being a liminal. Figures. “I guess I’m glad I could help. We should get back inside though, huh?”

They turned and walked back toward the house. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. She still felt like she was half a step away from having a panic attack, but so far she was managing it, at least. “Yeah, your parents probably want you to tell them everything about it. Your Dad seems pretty proud of you, you know.”

“He’s excited that I care about ghosts. He’s always wanted one of us to take on the family business,” said Danny.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” 

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know if I want ghosts to be, like, everything, but then again, at this point I don’t know what else I would do instead unless NASA decides they want an astronaut that can check for ghosts on the moon.”

 “Seems unlikely, but they’ve done some pretty weird experiments before, so maybe you’ve got a chance,” she teased. Heading inside, she stood by while Danny’s parents began asking dozens of questions about Ember, spending more time than Sam would’ve expected wondering how or why a ghost might have a boyfriend, how this might inform their understanding of the Ghost Zone and their culture, and that conversation eventually devolved into what they would need to do if some ghost showed interest or affection for Danny. Danny answered their questions patiently, although Sam could sense he was getting frustrated. 

“Mom, Dad, come on,” he groaned. “I’m not going to date a ghost. Promise. That’s too far even for me.”

“We know, hon, we just need to start considering what might happen if one gets a little too interested in you, that’s all,” said Mrs. Fenton. 

“Hey, um, funny as this all is, I should probably get going,” said Tucker. Oh. It was getting pretty late, wasn’t it? “But maybe we can talk more tomorrow?”

Danny nodded as he followed her and the others to the door, leaving his parents behind in the kitchen. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

“And Danny?” said Sam. “You, um, should tell your parents about Phantom. How you were helping him. I know you’re scared they’ll freak out, but I think they can handle it. They’re being pretty cool about everything.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said as he shut the door, and Sam rolled her eyes. Of course. The words were as good as a ‘no’ from Danny, and she wondered yet again what else he was keeping from them as she headed home, desperately hoping it wasn’t anything worse than what they already knew. But it had to be, didn’t it? There was no reason to keep anything else a secret, not anymore, unless it was somehow even worse than what he already confessed to. Sam just hoped it wasn’t anything that would get him or anyone else killed.

Chapter Text

Val put on a brave face. Always had. But as she listened to her ex-boyfriend admit the truth to her, to all of them, she felt as if she were standing on quicksand. 

Everything kept changing. She and Phantom slowly developed an uneasy understanding over the last year or so, only for them to learn about Danny being possessed, drastically altering her perspective on the ghost to be much, much closer to the one she originally held. There was a comfort in that - it was so much easier when things were simply black and white, when she did not need to start thinking about the ghosts as more than monsters, worrying about whether or not she was hurting something or someone innocent. But then Danny remained depressed, twitchy, and eerily quiet, his moods seeming worse rather than better, until it exploded in the fight with Dash. 

Danny, according to all accounts, was not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination and not particularly inclined to violence. While Dash deserved what he got and then some, she worried what it meant for Danny, who seemed completely broken after the fight. They tried to comfort him before Mr. Lancer and his parents spirited him away, but nothing seemed to get through to him, and it left her shaken and uncertain as she began to realize they must have missed something. She tried a few times to check-in on him, but he refused to answer his phone or respond to her texts. It stung, but in a way it made sense at that point, since she thought she hadn’t ever known the real him since he was possessed. Val knew he might not want to be friends with her given everything that happened between them, and she tried to respect it even as it stung. It wasn’t as if they knew each other, not really. 

But she still found herself worrying, so she texted Jazz instead. Danny’s sister let her know that at least so far, Danny hadn’t done anything drastic despite seeming a lot worse than he had before, and she promised they were keeping an eye on him. When Val got a text from Danny asking her to come over on Sunday, Val bailed on her shift at the Nasty Burger, hoping for good news despite suspecting she would instead find out that Danny tried to do something he would regret. 

Well, she’d gotten news, all right. Whether or not it was good, Val still wasn’t sure.

The first thing she felt was an intense sense of relief. She did know Danny, she hadn’t stupidly dated some ghost, and they really were friends. It felt selfish, but she couldn’t help it, her fears over the last couple of weeks giving her nightmares and shaking her confidence. She didn’t know what to make of Danny and being a liminal, but she could tell it scared him, that he worried about what it meant about his own humanity, and that . . . that Val could understand better than anyone. Every time she put on her suit, one that she knew was infused with ectoplasm and ghostly technology, Val tried to ignore the nagging question about what it meant for her and her own humanity. She knew she wasn’t a ghost. She told herself over and over again it was nothing more than some fancy tech. But there were little things she noticed that weren’t quite right, like how even when she wasn’t wearing it, she healed a little faster, needed less sleep, and was stronger and faster. She tried to dismiss the signs before, to make excuses, but she was struggling to do that now, so she did what she always did and latched onto something to distract her, to fill the quiet moments and make sure that she wouldn’t have time to dwell on it.

And the ghosts made that easy, in one sense, but in another? Danny believed they deserved to be treated respectfully, that they were complex and more sentient and just so much more than Val or anyone else thought. And Val hated it. She wanted to lash out, to scream, to punch something, because she wanted simplicity. She wanted to not question everything she did over the last year since she became a ghost hunter, but instead she found herself ruthlessly examining her memories, questioning every interaction. She knew Danny would not blame her, the same way he didn’t blame his parents that were currently struggling with their own beliefs, and yet she couldn’t help but hate herself for being so unwilling to listen to him sooner. 

Because as she watched him with the ghosts, she realized that he was right.

She and the Fentons both began shadowing Danny on some of his trips as he met with the ghosts. Phantom had yet to make an appearance - and apparently Danny still hadn’t told his parents about that particular relationship yet and how he helped Phantom fight the more dangerous ghosts - but others ghosts were more than happy to continue upending their lives. 

The first ones she approached with Danny after the incident with Ember were Kitty and Johnny, who often left nothing but trouble and bad luck in their wake thanks to the odd, shadowy ghost that followed Johnny around. She prepared to don her suit, to fight as she waited for Danny’s chat with them to turn sour, and blinked when Kitty and Johnny agreed to stick to the park for the evening. They simply wanted a quiet date night, frustrated by what the ghost zone had to offer, and Danny agreed.

The Box Ghost seemed content to haunt an old, empty warehouse right now. Danny observed that as long as he was left alone, no one would come to harm, and so he checked up on the ghost every few days, ensuring that he remained undisturbed while promising to bring more boxes, bubble wrap, and whatever other odd packaging related material struck his current fancy. It felt like taking care of a weird, stray cat, although Danny hadn’t cared for the comparison. It was too dehumanizing, apparently. Val bristled at it–they weren’t human, after all–but found herself disquieted, unwilling to push the argument the way she once would have. 

She sat in the kitchen of his house on another day while he baked with the Lunch Lady. Val could feel the old ghosts’s dislike for her from across the room but ignored it, watching as the two of them tried to make some kind of fruit cake. And it was the first time she saw how much happier he seemed, then, in that moment as the two of them talked. There was a connection there, an understanding. Danny always had her guard up around her and his friends and family, but not around the ghosts. She expected to keep to the background, observing silently as she worked on her homework, but then he invited her over to help with the icing and she flinched. So far she’d stayed back during his interactions with them, seeing herself as something closer to Danny’s bodyguard than as someone who could try to help the ghosts in this way, too, but found herself putting on an apron and trying, anyway. She was no good at cooking or baking. Her Dad’s cooking was great and he made meals when he could, but both of them worked long hours, which meant take out and frozen meals most days since he rarely had the time to teach her anymore. Still, she tried her best even as the Lunch Lady continually scolded her, both of them barely keeping their tempers under control as Danny laughed quietly.

“Oh haha, ghost boy,” she grumbled when the Lunch Lady left. The icing was the worst part of the cake, too runny by far, and obviously her fault. “Maybe next time you can just do your thing instead, okay? I’m no good at this.”

“It takes time–”

“--and patience. Which you, of all people, should know I don’t have a lot of,” she interrupted. “You’re lucky we didn’t get in a fight and burn half your kitchen down.”

“I think you did great,” he said, and she scowled at him as she grabbed her stuff. 

“You’re better at it,” she said. “And it was nice to see you smile.”

“What? I smile sometimes.” 

“Not like that, though, or at least not lately. I–see you tomorrow, Danny,” she said, not quite sure what she was thinking, then, and she hurried out the door to go to work before he could respond. The Nasty Burger wasn’t supposed to schedule her for the late shift on a school night, but that hardly stopped them from doing so and she wasn’t about to lose out on the extra money.

They found Spectra and Bertrand terrorizing a dance class in Elmerton, making them miserable, and this time Danny surprised her when he immediately told her that she needed to fight back. The pair were dangerous, feeding off the misery of their victims, and he confessed to her that while there were ghosts he would try dozens of times to reach, these two were not on that list. Apparently, they tried to kill Jazz during Spirit Week while Spectra was posing as the school guidance counselor, something which no one but Danny was aware of, and Valerie was all too happy to oblige and point her gun at another target at last. Much to her surprise, Phantom still didn’t show up, the ghost continuing to remain strangely absent. 

Yet despite Danny’s clear hatred towards Spectra and Bertrand, he still insisted she release both into the Ghost Zone. “They’re dangerous, Danny. We might not find them again before they hurt someone.” 

“I can’t–I won’t leave them trapped inside the thermos, Val. I know it’s risky, but I . . . I won’t do it.” It was a mistake. She knew it was. But she found herself rolling her eyes and jamming the thermos into the slot beside the portal, emptying the contents and hoping that somehow, the pair of dangerous ghosts would not find their way back. So far she’d been willing to let Danny take the lead, but this one . . . It worried her enough that she knew she needed to talk to someone about it, someone who would understand her perspective, and there were really only two people she could think of that could. Coming clean to them about her identity with them wasn’t something she was excited about, but she couldn’t see a way around it and she could tell they already suspected the truth after the whole thing with Ember.

She went over after school one night when she knew Danny was at Tucker’s house studying, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. Jazz opened the door, clearly surprised to see her. “Danny’s not here right now.”

“I know,” said Val. “Are your parents home? I needed to ask them something.”

“Sure, they’re in the lab,” said Jazz as Valerie headed inside, and taking a deep breath she headed downstairs to the basement. Mrs. Fenton sat at a lab bench, her goggles down as she soldered part of a blaster, while Mr. Fenton sat at the computer, inputting numbers from a report. 

“Um, hi?” she said, clearing her throat, and the two looked at her and smiled warmly. 

“Val, hon, what brings you here?” said Mrs. Fenton as she put the soldering iron down and pushed up her goggles. 

“I have a bit of a confession to make,” she said, knowing she needed to rip off the band-aid quickly before she chickened out completely. “I’m the Red Huntress.” She held out her hand, letting the suit appear partway up to her arm before making it vanish, and she saw their eyes widen. 

“That’s incredible! How does that work?” asked Mr. Fenton as he jumped to his feet, examining her arm and the bracelets on it, and she tried not to flinch away, his enthusiasm a little too intense. “Is it nanotech?! Did you make it? Did someone else? We’d love to study it.”

Mrs. Fenton stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling a little sadly as she asked, “Does your father know?”

“It’s some kind of ghost tech, it’s not important,” she said. Not true, really, since she was definitely worried about it, but that didn’t matter right now with everything else going on. She’d had it for months, and it wasn’t hurting her, at least. But the ghosts and what Danny was doing . . . someone could get hurt. Danny could get hurt.

And she definitely wasn’t going to answer that other question about her Dad. Valerie suspected she would be on the receiving end of a long, overprotective lecture from the Fentons and a threat to call him if she admitted that her father didn’t know about her ghost hunting activities. “But there is something I need to talk to you about. I’ve been working with Danny lately, and I, um . . . I thought you two might understand a little bit about what I’m going through, I guess. I’ve always been kind of stuck to a philosophy of shooting first with the ghosts since giving them a chance to talk felt like putting myself and everyone else at risk, and now I feel like–like I’ve been screwing up, maybe? But also sometimes Danny does things that I just don’t get, and I’m worried he’s going to get hurt, or maybe someone else will, and I just–I don’t really know what to do anymore.”

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” said Mr. Fenton as he and Mrs. Fenton sat back down, picking up on her discomfort over him examining any part of her suit, and she tried not to bristle at the ‘kiddo’ part. He meant well, she knew it, but it still bothered her to be treated like a child. “And we get it, we do. We’ve been doing this for decades, and yet we’ve had to reconsider a bunch of our research. If anyone’s to blame for you feeling the way you do, it’s us. We’ve spent years telling people how dangerous ghosts are. It only makes sense for you to take that seriously.”

“And most of the ghosts that come through the portal are dangerous,” added Mrs. Fenton. “It’s not wrong to have a healthy amount of fear, or at least respect, for what they can do. Danny himself admits that they’re still able to cause a lot of harm even when they have no ill intent.”

“Yeah, but he’s also stupid enough to insist that we not keep a dangerous ghost locked up,” grumbled Val, arms crossed over her chest as she sat down on a stool. 

“It’s unlikely a containment device could hold any ghost permanently,” said Mrs. Fenton carefully. “We’ve looked into it before.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think that’s the reason Danny doesn’t want them kept inside a thermos. He feels bad for them, I think.” She thought of Ember and his apologies to her when he realized Skulker had been trapped inside a thermos for close to two weeks with no reprieve, despite knowing how dangerous Skulker and Desiree both were, too. Even Phantom almost lost his last fight with Skulker. “I’m just worried about him. I feel like he’s going to get himself killed one day, but I also feel like my judgment is so messed up that I can’t question him, either. He clearly knows more about this than me, at least. And he’s right about the ghosts, isn’t he?”

“To some extent, we think so,” admitted Mrs. Fenton.

“We’ve been going over the ghost attacks, at least the ones we’re aware of. There has been a significant drop since Danny started reaching out to them,” said Mr. Fenton. “We’ve gone from multiple ghost attacks each day to about four a week or so. At least, those are the ones our sensors picked up. We may have missed some, but if anything I’d assume we would identify more ghost attacks over time, not less, since our scanners have become more refined over the years.”

“You might be missing some of the ones that Phantom and I handled.” The number sounded low to Valerie, but that was before she started working with Danny. Before this, she used to suck up any ghost she came across into a thermos without question, but now? How many strange little ghost animals did she shrug at as she walked through the park the other night on her way home, realizing they weren’t causing any harm and didn’t need a blaster shoved in their face?

“Well, we might not be able to account for those. Want to fill us in on what you’ve seen?” Val nodded, and so they went over her own experience with the ghost attacks. They still came to the conclusion that Danny’s actions were having a significant impact, but maybe not quite as substantial as the Fentons first thought since they seemed clueless about a lot of her and Phantom’s ghost fights. 

“If you can track the ghost attacks going forward, we’ll be able to get much more reliable data. Perhaps we can get Phantom to do so, too, if he ever resurfaces.” 

“You still haven’t seen him, either?” said Val, surprised. Danny explained it was because Phantom probably believed that it would be too risky to come back to Amity Park, but given what the ghost told her about its obsession, she couldn’t imagine Phantom staying away for very long regardless.

“No. We’ve asked Danny about it, but he says he doesn’t know if or when he’ll return. Right before he disappeared, though, we did notice some odd fluctuations with his power readings,” said Mrs. Fenton slowly.

“What?”

“Most ghosts follow a fairly predictable curve in terms of their overall power, but the handful of readings we’ve picked up for Phantom have been a bit erratic. There’s a chance it’s an early sign of destabilization, but that would be pretty strange for a ghost as strong as Phantom,” said Mr. Fenton.

“Does Danny know?” asked Val. She knew he was close to Phantom and suspected he might stupidly rush into the Ghost Zone to find him if he found out.

“We haven’t mentioned it to him yet. We still aren’t entirely sure - it’s possible our readings are inaccurate or that there could be an issue with the scanners, but the longer we go without seeing him, the more I’m starting to worry,” she admitted. “We may need to learn to make do without him.”  She reached into a drawer and pulled out an ear piece. “You should take this.”

“What is it?” asked Val as she picked it up and looked at it for a moment. 

“A Fenton Phone. They’re a communication device we developed that also filters out spectral noise,” said Mrs. Fenton. “Danny said that it blocks Ember’s hypnosis,  and while she’s not on our current list of hostile entities, we know that could change. And at least this way you can call for backup. I’m sure your Dad would feel better knowing we’re there to help you if you need it.”

“Yeah, he definitely would,” said Val, maybe a little too quickly. It was a lie, of course, but it wasn’t as if her Dad ever spoke to the Fentons. It should be fine, but she saw Mr. Fenton quirk an eyebrow at her as she accepted the earpiece. “Thanks.”

“Of course, hon. And if you ever want to talk to someone about this career, we’re happy to answer any questions you have or offer you whatever help you need. It’s always nice to have young people excited about our work, even if we’re still grappling with how much of our research might be flawed based on what we’ve seen over the last two years and because of what we’ve learned from Danny,” said Mrs. Fenton. 

“Are you, like, testing the other stuff he’s said about the ghosts, too? Like the weird culture stuff?” asked Val. “I mean, I think there’s something to all of this, but I’m still not totally convinced. It’s . . . It’s hard to think of the ghosts as being more than just flawed imprints of post-human consciousness or whatever.”

“I know, hon,” she said, reaching over and giving her hand a tight squeeze for a second. “And while we’re not entirely convinced at this point about the ghosts one way or the other, we wouldn’t be very good scientists if we weren’t examining it all thoroughly. Right now, we’re mostly collecting what data we can before we start doing more formal research since we’re struggling to keep up with the ghost attacks now that Phantom’s gone missing. There are some things that are quite fascinating, though. He mentioned that the ghosts have a truce around the holidays each year,” she said, “and, well, holidays here can be a bit tense, sometimes, so Jack and I didn’t even notice it these past two years. But in double checking our data, we confirmed that our sensors didn’t pick up on any ghost attacks for about a week around the winter solstice.”

Val frowned, trying to remember if she experienced any ghost attacks around winter break. Maybe towards the end? She wasn’t sure. “I’ll watch for it this year when it comes around again.” 

“Sounds good. We’ll try to keep our holidays a bit more peaceful this year, too. It’s been a challenging couple of years for everyone, and I think Danny especially would benefit from a quiet Christmas.” Mrs. Fenton paused, pursing her lips. “There are other things, too, that we could use your help with if you’re up to it, but . . . Val, are you sure your father knows exactly what you’re doing?”

“He’s got an idea, but, y’know, the firsthand experience is something else. I don’t think he gets that part, not really,” she lied. Val knew her Dad wouldn’t be okay with this. There was no doubt he would try to ground her or stop her if he learned the truth. She couldn’t tell him, not when others would be put at a much greater risk now that Phantom wasn’t here to help and Val knew she would be needed more than ever. And that was just the ghost hunting. She couldn’t imagine what his reaction to the suit might be, to knowing she continued to use unknown tech from a ghost that might be having some side effects she did not want to consider. “I know you’re worried about me, Mrs. Fenton, but I can handle myself at least as well as Danny can. And right now, I can watch Danny’s back when you can’t.”

Mrs. Fenton cocked an eyebrow at that but eventually shook her head a bit sadly. “Hon . . . If you need help talking to your father, we’re happy to do what we can to support you. I’m not going to try to stop you. You’re not my daughter and I know precisely how stubborn kids your age can be, and I’d rather know and figure out a way to help make sure you’re doing this as safely as possible than see you try to give yourself stitches.” Well, too late for that part - Val used a needle and thread to patch herself up more than once, but thankfully she could still count the injuries that were that severe on one hand. “You could let him know that you’re working with us, at least. Maybe we could do a research project with you to help with a college application? And we could teach you how to run some of the lab equipment and how to perform some of the less dangerous tests.”

“I’m not sure I have time for extra work, Mrs. Fenton, especially now with the stuff with Danny. I’m already swamped at the Nasty Burger and I really need the money–”

“--we can pay you,” she interrupted. Oh, that was something different, then. “We’ve got the grant funds to support an internship. The pay won’t be more than you make at the Nasty Burger, but it’ll at least be tangentially connected to what you’re doing already, and it might take some pressure off you with your school work. I can’t imagine it’s easy to balance so many things.”

“It’s not,” said Valerie. “I, um . . . I’ll do it. I think. But the stuff with my Dad, I need to handle myself, okay? I promise I’ll talk to him about it some more. Maybe not everything right away, but at least more than I have.”

Maddie smiled. “That’s a start, then. We’ll get the paperwork together for you to fill out in a few days. Let us know when you’d like to officially start.”

“Sure. And, um, thanks,” she said. She hadn’t come here expecting to get a job offer, but she wasn’t about to complain. Mr. Masters really only paid her in ghost hunting gear, although he did offer to give her a scholarship if she went to college in a few years. She doubted he would mind her working for the Fentons, too. Danny mentioned that Mr. Masters and his Dad were close, although she knew Danny didn’t seem to like Mr. Masters very much. 

If he talked to Phantom and thought Mr. Masters was using her, though, that might be the reason why. She would have to explain to Danny that her work with Mr. Masters wasn’t like that and that he shouldn’t worry about it so much. Maybe Danny could even convince Phantom that Mr. Masters was a good person if the ghost ever returned.

Suddenly her watch beeped, and looking down she saw a half-dozen signals pop up simultaneously. “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton? I think we have a problem.” 

She held out her wrist, showing them the ghost tracker, and within seconds Mr. Fenton activated the ghost shield as their own system alerted them to the presence of multiple ghosts. “I’ll go check it out,” Val offered, hurrying up the stairs and putting on the earpiece before they could argue with her. She donned her suit in seconds, and as she charged out the front door of FentonWorks she summoned her hoverboard, taking to the air to investigate. 

The streets were littered with humanoid green ghosts with eyes that were sewn shut, their mouths nothing but a line of razor sharp teeth. Pulling out her blaster, she hesitated for a moment as she watched one approach someone sitting at a stop sign and worried about accidentally hitting an innocent bystander, but then as soon as she saw the strange blue mist spiral out from its hand she cursed and took the shot. The ghost exploded into a pile of ectoplasm, spraying the street and the car, but the person inside was eerily silent despite the fighting. She really, really hoped they were just knocked out. 

There were too many ghosts here for her to land right away, so Valerie took a minute to shoot down all of the ones she could see within range before landing beside the car and checking on the person behind the wheel. Valerie winced as she looked at them and activated her earpiece. “Hey, uh, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton? Are you there?”

“Oh, good, you did turn it on!” chirped Mrs. Fenton over the radio. “We’re starting to get news reports that these ghosts are all over town already. Jack and I aren’t sure what they are - any idea?”

“No, but one of them used this weird blue mist on this person in their car. I wouldn’t leave the ghost shield if you can help it,” she said as she retracted her suit enough to feel their neck, and she let out a long, shaky breath when she felt their pulse thrumming beneath her fingers. “They’re alive, but I can’t tell if they’re asleep or knocked out or what.”

“Can you wake them up?”

“Uh, I’ll try, but I did just shoot a bunch of ghosts and they didn’t wake up to the noise,” said Val skeptically, and she took a minute to shout, yell, and even slap the person in the car, but they didn’t stir, a strange smile on their face. 

“No luck?”

“Nope. But these guys look like minions, I’ll see if–” Her watch beeped suddenly, and at the outer edge of its range she saw a powerful signal. “Hang on, I’m picking up another ghost. Might be the one responsible.”

“Try to be careful when you approach, okay? We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Of course, Mrs. Fenton,” she said as she activated her jet sled and flew to the location, and she could not believe the relief she felt when she saw an all-too familiar Hazmat suit. “Shit, it’s Phantom!”

“Language, Val!” admonished Mrs. Fenton. “But it’s really him?”

“Yeah.” Flying close, she jumped to the ground, her hoverboard vanishing. “Phantom! Any idea what’s happening?”

“No clue.” His voice sounded strained, and as she looked at him she saw his eyes glowing brighter than usual. Green smoke poured out of the hole in his glove, but the suit itself still looked intact, and she remembered what the Fentons said about him, then, and his unstable power levels. About how he might be at risk of destabilizing. “Are you going to shoot me?”

“No. Danny already explained what happened, about what he is, and I–look, I’m sorry about what happened,” she said quickly, frowning at him. “But, um, are you like okay right now?

The radio crackled with static. “No.” 

“I can take care of this, y’know. If you’re–”

“--I’ll be fine,” he snapped, and Valerie stared at him. She wasn’t used to him being so tense, but then again, the last time they saw each other she had just broken yet another truce and tried to shove him into a thermos after accusing him of possessing her ex-boyfriend.

“Hey, um–I really am sorry, okay? We got it wrong. About you,” she apologized again. “You were right. We should have–I should have known better.”

She heard a crackle of static over the radio. “Thanks.” His voice was still strained. “Did you talk to Tucker?”

“Foley?” she repeated, blinking. “What? No? Does he know what’s going on right now?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” he lied, and she felt a chill run down her spine. There was something so eerily familiar about the way he said it, but her mind couldn’t make the connection. “Do we have a truce?”

“Obviously,” said Val, rolling her eyes and holding out a hand, and although he hesitated he eventually shook it. “Now let’s take care of this ghost problem.”

Chapter Text

Danny sat on the floor of Tucker’s room, a stack of worksheets and textbooks surrounding him as he chewed on the end of his pen. He managed to finish most of his math and science homework, in no small part since those were his best subjects even if best was pretty relative in this case since his grades in both were C’s compared to the low D’s he had in most of his other classes. At least math and science made sense. His English and Spanish homework, on the other hand, remained incomprehensible. 

“Ugh, I hate this,” he grumbled, throwing himself back on the floor in frustration. “Can we take a break?”

“Dude, we just had dinner,” said Tucker. “We’ve barely been at it for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, but we were at it for over two hours before dinner,” argued Danny. They ordered from a local Thai food place, mostly since it had a handful of vegan options for Sam. He barely managed more than a few bites. The food should be fine. He knew it should be. But it was so hard for him to eat lately. Everything tasted . . . not awful, not really, but like nothing. “Please?”

“Want some ice cream?” offered Sam. His friends, of course, both noticed how little he ate. He could tell they were worried about him. “Mrs. Foley mentioned she bought some, including some new vegan brand I’ve been wanting to try.”

He forced himself to put on the best smile he could.  He doubted the ice cream would be better than anything else, despite how nightmarishly hungry he felt all the time, but he could make himself eat a little if it would help them both worry a little less about him. “Sure.” 

“Cool, I’ll go check with your parents, Tuck,” she offered, jumping to her feet and heading downstairs, and he listened to her boots as they echoed loudly on the steps. 

Things should be better. His family and friends didn’t know everything, but they were much closer to the truth than before and they swore to keep it secret. They knew he was a liminal. They knew about the ghosts, and his parents and Valerie were surprisingly willing to listen and let him take the lead when it came to handling them more than he ever believed possible. And with the exception of Sidney, so far none of the ghosts seemed to figure out who he actually was despite Desiree granting the wish, although he hadn’t seen Desiree or Skulker since handing over the thermos to Ember. While the ghosts finding out wouldn’t be ideal, he mostly only worried about Vlad learning the truth. 

But every little bit beyond that, every additional piece of information or odd power displayed around his family and friends . . . he could see it in their horrified looks. They were all trying incredibly hard. He knew they were. But even this much pushed them to the edge, and no part of Danny believed they could learn the full truth about him and still accept him. Phantom needed to remain nothing more than an odd ghost, and Danny needed to be just another human with a few freaky little powers. 

He swallowed, trying to ignore the hollowness and the ache in his core at the thought of continuing to keep his identity secret. Sidney thankfully talked him out of jumping off the cliff the other week, but Danny would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t still sitting dangerously to the edge, his sleep full of nightmares and his days spent resisting the tug of his obsession even as his family and friends seemed ready to accept Phantom being around once more. He stared down at his hand, remembering the strange, black void and glowing specks and claws that were beneath his hazmat suit and shuddered.

Phantom’s true form beneath the suit made him sick to his stomach, and although he knew people were expecting Phantom to reappear any day now, he had yet to transform since the summoning over a month ago. It was a hurdle he would need to overcome eventually. Danny couldn’t fight ghosts as Danny Fenton, not without blowing his secret or ruining the work he was doing with the ghosts, but his obsession was pulling at him more and more every day. Talking to the ghosts helped, but it wasn’t enough. He had to protect everyone, but more than that, he had to protect their dreams, even if it meant sacrificing his own and becoming a monster. But his friends and family seeing him, or rather,  seeing Phantom again . . . he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. 

And then a shiver ran through him and as he exhaled he saw his breath fog in front of him. 

“Uh-oh. Are you going to take a look?” asked Tucker as he watched Danny closely. How long was Tucker staring at him?

“No. I should focus on studying.” He spit the words out through gritted teeth, ignoring the intense pain in his core as he pushed back against his obsession yet again, wondering if this was the moment his core would break, and as he tried to go back to working on his homework he suddenly heard shouting and screaming from downstairs. Tucker’s eyes went wide as Danny bolted for the door, taking the stairs two at a time and making it down just as a couple of green ghosts emitted a strange, blue fog around Tucker’s parents and Sam.

“Danny, run!” shouted Sam as she spotted him on the stairs, and then her eyes rolled back as she toppled to the floor while Tucker’s parents collapsed back onto their couch. 

Danny felt his heart stop in his chest, his ears ringing as his eyes went wide and he trembled. This was his fault. He was so selfish, he shouldn’t have ignored it, shouldn’t have missed it, and now Sam and Tucker’s parents were–they were–

“Mom! Dad!” 

“Stay back!” he commanded, Tucker’s cries barely audible to Danny over the sound of his own heart hammering in his chest, and he threw an arm out to stop Tucker as the ghosts advanced on them and released more of the strange, blue mist. Without hesitating, Danny threw a shield around him and Tucker. Tucker gasped but Danny ignored it, and as soon as the mist dissipated he fired an ectoblast at the closest ghost, smashing it to bits of awful goo that clung to the walls and carpet. He heard Tucker screaming but didn’t care, firing two more rays to destroy the remaining ghosts, and then he ran down the stairs to check on Sam. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon, you have to be okay,” he whispered, his panic bubbling to the surface once more as he tapped her on the cheeks, and he tried to feel for a pulse but his hands were shaking. 

“Let me,” said Tucker, kneeling down beside him, and he grabbed her wrist. “It’s there. It seems a little slow, but it’s there.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he whispered as his chest ached. “C’mon, Sam, wake up. Please wake up.” He tapped her cheeks a little harder, snapped his fingers, but nothing worked. 

“Danny . . . how did you do that?” asked Tucker, who was over at the window and watching the street uneasily. When did Tucker stand up? How long had Danny been here beside Sam? He swallowed and bit his lip, trying to stop himself from panicking, but it was a little too late for that.

“Do what?” The words were a half-hearted whisper. Tucker knew, didn’t he? How could he not?

“The shield and the ecto blasts, obviously!” Tucker’s voice rang out, high pitched and terrified. “Come on, man, that’s not–did you lie to us again ?! Are you–are you dead? Are you a ghost?” 

He froze, swallowing as he glanced down at the scar on his hand, and then he carefully picked up Sam, doing his best not to jostle her too much. “I don’t know.”

Tucker groaned, tugging at his beret. “You don’t . . . what?”

“Can we bring her to your room? Your parents are on the couch, at least, but I don’t want to leave Sam on the floor,” said Danny, too worried about everything to think, let alone answer questions, and Tucker nodded as he watched Danny easily carry Sam up the stairs and carefully lay her down on Tucker’s bed. 

“How can you not know, dude?” said Tucker as soon as he put her down, unwilling to simply let it drop, but why would he?

“Because it’s not as simple as you think it is,” he snapped, his eyes flashing a brilliant green. Tucker recoiled, stumbling back into his desk and almost tripping over his computer chair, and Danny closed his eyes, tugging at his hair while he forced himself to breathe. “Sorry, I just–it’s–I really don’t know. I can be a ghost and I can be human, but I can use ghost powers while I’m human and I swear I can feel my heart beating when I’m a ghost, even if it’s way slower than it should be. I wish I had an easy answer, and I wish I could tell you what I am, but I don’t know. ”

Tucker’s phone buzzed, making an awful beeping sound with it, and he pulled it out. “Uh, dude? There’s way more of these ghosts.” He held up his phone, showing the notification he got from the Emergency Broadcast System, and Danny pulled out his own, wondering why he hadn’t been alerted when he realized the battery was dead. Of course.

“Any idea how many?” Tucker shook his head as he scrolled through a news article, but it didn’t matter. Danny had already made up his mind. “I’m going to go help. You stay here, and if you have anything–an ecto blaster, laser lipstick, whatever - get it out and be ready to use it. You should try to get in touch with my parents, too, and let them know you’ve been attacked. They might be able to help.”

“What–what are you going to do?” 

“Fight.” Swallowing, he turned invisible and intangible as he heard Tucker let out a small squeak, and then he flew out through the roof and looked at the streets below, quickly spotting more of the strange, green ghosts with their eyes sewn shut. There was probably no point trying to talk to them, since the ghosts were clearly nothing more than ectoplasmic constructs, and letting out a shaky breath, Danny forced himself to transform into Phantom for the first time in almost a month. 

Donning his Hazmat suit once again was both amazingly comforting and suffocating. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being in his ghost form until that moment, his own fears preventing him from remembering the intense feeling of confidence and power he felt whenever he was Phantom, or even the pure satisfaction that came from indulging in his obsession. But the strange itch he felt before was worse, his suit now impossibly claustrophobic, and the power he felt briefly in that moment with Skulker when his suit broke was now desperately seeking release. He could see mist pouring from the tear in his glove, the power seeking any outlet it could, and he knew he needed a way to burn this energy off. At least there were plenty of targets.

“Hey,” he said as he landed on the street and shifted fully into the visible spectrum, and his radio crackled loudly as he charged an ectoblast and sent it spiraling towards one of the ghosts. 

It smashed into a pile of goo, destroyed instantly, and the other let out an inhuman shriek that sent chills down his spine as it spun a strange cloud of blue energy and aimed it at him, but this time, Danny didn’t bother with the shield. The cloud passed harmlessly around him since like a lot of ghostly abilities, the attack wasn’t strong enough to get past the suit’s ectoplasm resistant properties, and he grinned as he sent another blast flying and destroyed the second ghost. 

His relief was short-lived, though, as he spotted another half-dozen nearby. One of the ghosts was in the midst of using that strange, blue energy on someone walking their dog. They were trying to get away, scrambling to pick up the little terrier so they could run faster, but within seconds the person collapsed to the ground, slumping over uncomfortably on the sidewalk, and Danny screamed as he sent another series of ecto blasts at the green ghosts and then rushed over to check on them. He could see their chest rising and falling slowly, their eyes closed, as their dog whined softly at him.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Pretty sure he’s just asleep, maybe? Can you keep an eye on them?” The dog whined again as he got back to his feet, and as he looked around he noticed dozens of other people around him were unconscious, snoring away in their cars and on benches. As he peered through the windows of a nearby house, he could see another person slumped over in their chair at the dinner table, face resting in a plate of pasta. 

He felt his core twinge painfully again in his chest, his obsession screaming at him to fix it, fix everything, somehow, even though he didn’t know what was happening, and then he heard the sound of a jet sled behind him.

“Phantom!” called Val, jumping to the ground as her hoverboard vanished. “Any idea what’s happening?”

“No clue.” He swallowed uneasily, knowing that Phantom shouldn’t know yet about what happened with Danny. But with Tucker knowing as much as he did now, what was the point? The dots would be easy for him to connect, and no doubt he’d tell Sam and Val and his sister and everyone else. Still, though . . . if there was any chance of keeping his secret intact, however small, he would take it. “Are you going to shoot me?”

“No. Danny already explained what happened, about what he is, and I–look, I’m sorry about what happened,” she said quickly, and he felt more than saw her staring at him, her helmet obscuring her eyes. “But, um, are you like okay right now?” 

“No.” He wanted to laugh, scream, and cry all at once. Val caring about him as Phantom was something he wanted for ages, for her to genuinely treat him like an ally and a friend rather than a temporary reluctant partner, but right now there was too much going on for him to enjoy it. 

“I can take care of this, y’know. If you’re–”

“I’ll be fine,” he snapped, and he winced, his tone harsher than he meant it to be, but he couldn’t do this right now. There were more important things to worry about.

“Hey, um–I really am sorry, okay? We got it wrong. About you. You were right. We should have–I should have known better,” she said softly, misinterpreting why he snapped at her. Danny gritted his teeth, wanting to yell at her about how this wasn’t the time to rehash their old feud or worry about something that seemed like an eternity ago, but she was trying her best, and he knew how hard it had to be for her to admit she was wrong about him. Val wanted to help, and static crackled over his radio as he tried to release a long, slow breath to calm down. He shouldn’t be this anxious or upset or angry, he knew that, but everything felt so horribly wrong from the way his suit itched to his town being overrun to just being Phantom again to Tucker knowing, maybe everything, maybe nothing, despite his efforts over nearly two years to keep everything from his friends and his family about his alter ego. 

“Thanks,” he forced out, and at least it sounded a little less curt this time. “Did you talk to Tucker?”

“Foley? What? No. Does he know what’s going on right now?”

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter,” he lied, and he could tell she didn’t believe him, but this really wasn’t the moment. It wasn’t. They had to take care of this mess before anyone got seriously hurt, so before she could try to figure out what he meant, he asked, “Do we have a truce?”

“Obviously,” said Val, rolling her eyes and holding out a hand, and although he hesitated he eventually shook it. “Now let’s take care of this ghost problem.”

“Can you check in with the Fentons?” he asked. “I think we’re going to need their help.”

“I’ve got them on my headset.” What? Since when? He tried not to think about it too hard, and after a moment he heard them pick up, their voices barely audible to his slightly enhanced hearing. The relief he felt was overwhelming. At least they were safe, but Tucker and Sam . . . he didn’t feel too optimistic about it, with Sam already unconscious and Tucker alone. He shouldn’t have left him alone, should he? But he had to in order to fight the ghost, to save everyone else, and–

He pushed the thought down, hard. He could not let himself keep getting derailed by his obsessive thoughts. Not right now. 

“No, no, you should stay under the shield at FentonWorks,” argued Val, and he could hear his parents on the other end, arguing that they could use the GAV and the portable shield to stay safe, and then his sister asking a question he dreaded. “What? Hang on, I’m with Phantom, let me check with him.” She glanced up at him as he stood there, perfectly still, his eyes gleaming on the darkened street. “Did you see Danny? Jazz says she can’t get in touch with him. They’re worried he tried to go out and help without them.”

“No.” He considered lying, saying that he found him and told him to hide, but then they would inevitably ask where he was, how to find him, and they would definitely leave the house to go check. “I’m sorry.”

“Then we’re going out there,” said Mom after Val passed along the message. Ugh. Of course they wouldn’t stay put.

“Don’t! The best thing you can do to help the Huntress and I is figure out where the ghost responsible for all of this is hiding,” said Phantom. 

“What?”

“These creatures out here aren’t sentient. They lack a core. They’re constructs, no more than the creations of a more powerful ghost,” he explained. “Please. The best chance to help Danny is to find out where this ghost is hiding so the two of us can deal with it. I haven’t been able to find it yet and neither has Valerie, but the scanners in the Ops Center should be able to detect any ecto signatures within Amity Park, right?”

“You know an awful lot about our capabilities,” said Mom uncomfortably, and he wanted to scream. Here he had Val apologizing to him and tripping over herself to make him feel more at ease, yet his Mom was still almost completely unwilling to trust him despite promising Danny she would do that very thing mere weeks ago. 

“Of course he does, because Danny trusts him,” said Val, “ and right now, there isn’t anyone else that can help. Please, Mrs. Fenton. He’s right. If we want to save Danny and everyone else, we need you and Mr. Fenton to find the ghost.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, the word barely audible over the static, and Val flashed him a quick thumbs up as his Mom agreed. 

“Are you sure you’re definitely okay?” She gestured at his hand. “You seem kind of tense and your, uh, glove is smoking.”

“It’s fine,” he lied as they waited for his Mom to update them. He would be fine. He could burn off the excess energy later, safely somehow, and hopefully that would fix it. Hopefully. That had to be all this was, right? Just too much power, too much energy contained within the suit with nowhere to go but the tear in his glove. He shouldn’t have gone so long without transforming.

“We’re picking up on two strong ecto signatures,” said Mom. “One belongs to Phantom, but there’s another one at the old mattress factory. Red, I can text you the address.”

“Sounds good, Mrs. Fenton.”

“Jack’s going to go look for Danny in the GAV,” she added, and silently Danny cursed. Of course his parents would try to find him no matter what. Hopefully they could take care of this before his Dad got himself hurt. “Jazz and I will stay here.”

“Okay. Tell him to be careful. We’ll call back once this is over,” said Val as she hung up. Her phone pinged a minute later with the address. “It’s all the way across town on Washington Street. You need a lift?”

“No.” He knew where it was, so he didn’t wait for her to say another word as he vanished from sight, and he heard her mutter a curse under her breath as she summoned her hoverboard and flew off. Once she was gone, he switched back to his human form and then teleported. 

He hated teleporting, especially after what happened with the summoning. The world twisted and spun, his body becoming both nothing and something in a blink, his lungs both too full of air and squeezed too tight. The moment lasted an eternity but was over in an instant as he reappeared outside the warehouse, and with a quick glance he changed back to his ghostly form before entering the building without waiting for Valerie.

Which, in retrospect, was probably the worst idea he had in some time given the absolutely massive ghost inside the warehouse, but in his defense, Danny rarely worked with anyone else as Phantom. He wasn’t used to having any backup to wait for. Most days he was more worried about ending the fight before Val or his parents came along and tried to shove him inside a thermos.

Filling most of the building, the ghost was black as a void and full of twinkling stars, an uncanny reflection of his own ghostly form beneath the suit. He had two massive, curled horns and deep, red eyes, and his face was pale and narrow. He had no legs that Danny could see - instead, they were just swirling, black tendrils that seemed to creep into every corner of the factory.

“I’m guessing you won’t leave even if I ask nicely, will you?” said Danny, and the ghost chuckled.

“Liminal child.” Danny felt his veins run cold. Another ghost knew the truth. Sidney first, and now this one, but where Sidney had an excuse, Danny had never even met this ghost before. 

“How did you know?” he asked, and his radio crackled with static, his nerves getting the better of him. 

“I am Nocturn, the ghost of sleep, the king of dreams,” he intoned, “and I know everything you have ever dreamed of, Daniel Fenton.”

The use of his name hit like a train, making his stomach twist in knots, and he was now very, very glad that Valerie wasn’t with him even as he realized he was probably outmatched here. “What do you want?”

“What I want, I already have, liminal child. Your dreams, the dreams of everyone in this town, are rightfully mine for the taking.” 

Danny felt his core twinge, his obsession screaming at him to attack, to stop the ghost. He never before encountered one that triggered it as intensely. “No,’ he snarled, and he charged, firing a massive ecto blast at Nocturn. 

The blast did seemingly nothing - instead it was merely swallowed up by the endless void and swirling stars, and he shifted, pulling on his ice powers, his eyes gleaming blue as he sent the shards at one of the tentacles, probing to see what damage it might do. It seemed to work for a moment, the tendril freezing and then shattering, but Nocturn regenerated it within seconds.

“Child, you cannot defeat me in this way, not when all of Amity Park is dreaming,” sighed the ghost, sounding bored, and then it was gone for a moment before it appeared behind him, the blue mist encompassing Danny in a thick cloud. 

His suit protected him from the ghost’s minions, but he felt the cloud penetrate deeper, seeping through the thinnest of cracks in his suit and overwhelming what protection it provided, until he felt his legs give out beneath him and then–

–he was in his basement, the portal before him. His parents were so disappointed it didn’t work, but maybe he could fix it. Danny had been tinkering with his parents’ inventions for ages, learning the ins and outs of them. He wasn’t always as smart as his mom or as creative as his dad, but he was close, a good blending of the two that allowed for a balance there that helped him see solutions they missed.

The hazmat suit he pulled on weighed heavily, the respirator probably not necessary, but none of the other protective equipment  in the lab fit him, most of it made for someone much taller or larger than he was. Walking forward, he carefully avoided the massive cables running along the floor as he entered the portal, flashlight in hand.

The problem was immediately obvious - someone, probably his Dad, installed a control panel on the inside of the portal. The massive red and green buttons sat there, and he began to reach out when he realized he ought to make sure the power on the outer panel wasn’t engaged already. Danny turned quickly, unthinking, and felt something snag his boot, sending him spiraling downward. He reached out to grab something, anything that would stop his fall, but instead he heard a soft ‘click’ as the bright, green button locked into place beneath his hand. 

There was no time. He screamed as the portal activated, the electricity flowing through him, his skin burning and–

–he was in the hospital. His parents left to go grab some food from downstairs now that he was awake, figuring he might want something better to eat. His brain felt like mush, patchy, unsure, his memories trapped at the bottom of an impossibly deep well. There was something very wrong with him, even though his parents and sister were pretending everything was fine.

Another shiver ran through him and he felt a slight, sharp pain in his right arm, and suddenly one of the machines started beeping. Looking down, Danny noticed that the IVs attached to him on that side no longer were, but that wasn’t what horrified him the most.

His arm was gone. Invisible.

Eyes wide, Danny glanced at the door where he could hear the sound of doctors and nurses headed his way, and without thinking about it he jumped out of the bed, ripping some electrodes painfully off his chest as he bolted through what he hoped was a bathroom door, using his one visible hand to do it. “No no no no no no no,” he whispered as he closed it tightly behind him, and he could hear a nurse calling for him on the other side. He barely avoided having her see this . . . well, whatever this was.

His arm was gone, but it wasn’t. A weird feeling that was not quite like the pins and needles sensation he felt when his arm fell asleep ran through it and buzzed around his missing fingers. “What the hell is happening?” he whispered.

“Danny, are you in there?” called the nurse. “I’m going to come in a minute if you don’t answer, okay? I just need to make sure that you’re not hurt.”

“I’m fine!” he squeaked back as he tried to touch his arm but felt nothing. His arm was definitely there before, right? It wasn’t amputated because of the accident? He saw it, right?

Pushing up his sleeve, he knew then that whatever this was, amputation wasn’t it. Where his invisible arm met the visible part of his body was just a weird sort of fuzziness, a kind of blur like hot air rising from the pavement on a summer day. “Please come back,” he whispered, ignoring the nurse. “Please come back. I can’t . . . I can’t be a—

–his eyes snapped open for a moment, stars sparkling overhead as he tried to get up, but a blue mist engulfed him again and–

– the cardiologist sighed. Dr. Nguyen, Danny thought? His memory was getting better, but there were so many doctors and nurses and others whose names he needed to know now that he found himself losing track. “You sure you don’t want your Mom in here?”

Danny nodded. He didn’t know what the news was, but he knew it couldn’t be good. His palms were sweaty and trembling, his heart racing rapidly as he tried to breathe. The doctor figured it out, didn’t he? That he wasn’t completely alive and was now some kind of half-dead freak? 

Or maybe he was actually dead. Maybe Dr. Nguyen was going to tell him his heart stopped months ago, that his face wore a mask exactly like Spectra’s, that underneath he was nothing more than a monstrous ghost.

“You have bradycardia. Do you know what that is?” Danny shook his head. “It means that your heart rate is lower than average. Right now, Danny, your heart rate is about 45 beats per minute and hasn’t improved. It’s possible you might feel some dizziness, fatigue, confusion. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah.” He flipped over his hand, touching the round scar on his palm. “Is there anything you can do?”

“If it gets worse, there are options, mostly surgical ones like a pacemaker, but for now we’ll want to continue to monitor you and do some more tests first,” he replied. “Based on what we’ve looked at so far, we’re not expecting it to resolve on its own. We have some medications and things you’ll need to avoid, and . . .”

The doctor didn’t know about his ghost powers. Danny should feel ecstatic, and yet as the doctor continued to speak, all he could think of was his dream of going to outer space, and in his mind he could swear he heard a hammer pounding the nails into his coffin, his dream as dead as—

—Sam stormed away, throwing her hands up. “You really don’t care, do you?! You missed his birthday, Danny, of course he’s upset! But he doesn’t even feel like he can get mad at you anymore because of your accident or whatever and it’s just–don’t you care?!”

“Sam, I–I–” His voice faltered. He wanted to scream. To tell her that he almost died, that he was dead, that he was wrong and nothing made sense and that it hurt, but instead he fell silent as she continued to walk away and– 

—He blinked, again, trying to stay awake, trying to push down the memories that haunted his sleep, that made up his nightmares alongside the far, far worse ones that creeped up. He needed to stop Nocturn, he needed to–

– His parents stood over him. He was chained to a table, sobbing, begging them to let him go, but they didn’t care. They grabbed the scalpel, smiling too wide as they leaned over and–

—a brilliant shot of ectoplasm launched from his open palm, but it was bigger than it was supposed to be. The blast was too powerful, and he could see the building crumble, his family and friends inside–

—a face in the mirror, but not. A void of stars and pointed white teeth and hair that flowed like flames. He reached out, touching it with his clawed fingers, knowing that no one would accept this, that he can’t accept this, he’s a monster, and he–

—there was an ectoblast, shooting over his head and slamming into Nocturn. Just like with his own, the ghost seemed largely unaffected by it, but it gave Danny a moment to roll onto his stomach and push himself back onto his feet so he could scramble away from the ghost.  

“Phantom!” Danny looked up, and he could see Valerie with her massive ecto blaster perched on her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Nothing but nightmares, no matter how deep I went,” said Nocturn. “I could not get even a single seed to take. You are worthless to me. Have you no dreams, li–”

“--no,” Danny interrupted. He doesn’t want Valerie to hear the ghost call him a liminal. She would figure it out, figure him out and his secret. “My dreams died the same day I did. It’s why I protect the dreams of others. I won’t let you keep stealing them.”

“I don’t steal, I harvest,” said Nocturn. “As could you, if you allowed yourself to be who you truly are beneath that suit.”

“What?”

“I know what you crave, child. What the emptiness and void you feel within you means.” Danny suppressed a shudder, his obsession screaming once more as he realized what Nocturn meant, as he finally understood a part of what had been wrong with him for weeks. “Hey, Red?” 

“Yeah?”

“I have an idea, but you need to go wake up as many people as you can,” said Danny. He knew it was an impossible task, but she couldn’t be in this warehouse. Not if his desperate, awful plan worked.  

“They won’t wake up. I’ve tried–”

“You can’t be here right now. I know you probably can’t wake them up, but please. Try.”

“Phantom, you shouldn’t be alone. You can’t win by yourself, he already–”

“--I don’t want to hurt you,” he said as his eyes turned blue and he let the ice creep up his left arm. “Please. Val. I can handle this. You need to go.”

He saw her flinch at the sight of the ice, knowing she would remember from the fight with Skulker that felt so long ago now. “You get five minutes,” she said. “Be careful.” Val turned her jet sled away and Danny watched as some  of Nocturn’s minions pursued her. Hopefully they wouldn’t catch her. He knew she couldn’t wake anyone up. He didn’t know how he did, how he could, except that he . . . Nocturn . . . they were the same, in a way, and his stomach twisted at the thought. He could feel Nocturn trying to feed, trying to harvest, to pull the dreams of others to him in a way that reminded Danny uncomfortably of Spectra. 

Were all ghosts this way, or was he, like Nocturn and Spectra, some particularly awful type of ghost? He knew there were others that could feed on emotions and things that were almost abstractions, like when thirteen fed on people’s luck. He didn’t want to be like that, to be that kind of ghost, but if he was right and Nocturn was telling the truth, then he could do it, too.

Maybe he could take the stolen dreams back from Nocturn. Give them back, somehow. But the words felt like a lie he was telling himself even as he pushed forward, knowing that for his plan to work, he had to abandon his Hazmat suit. He knew it with a certainty that was impossible to put into words, and so he let the ice creep over it, a barrier between him and Nocturn as the ghost watched him curiously, obviously not feeling remotely threatened, until he let out a breath and then let the ice, and his Hazmat suit, shatter.

The suffocating, almost impossible itch he felt since the fight with Skulker vanished in an instant, replaced by the sense of being consumed by fire, his body feeling as if it were being torn to pieces by his own horrifying power. He hated this, and as he glanced down at his clawed hands, the glowing Lichtenberg figure on his arm and chest, and the star-like points traveling along the shadows coating his skin, he screamed in horror. In anguish. In anger.

And then it became more than a mere scream, his power channeling through it, and he felt it shake the warehouse as it built and layered upon itself, the power continuing to escalate, as it destroyed everything. The strange, stitch-eyed ghosts were obliterated, and he could see Nocturn’s form curl in on itself, wavering and shrinking as the scream continued, and then as Danny felt himself weakening, he instinctively twisted something inside himself and pulled, reaching out and grasping at the dreams Nocturn stole to fill the hole inside himself.

Images from dozens and dozens of dreams overwhelmed his mind, his stomach churning, but he continued to pull relentlessly, feeling his power growing despite the massive energy released through his scream. The side of the factory began to crumble, and he watched as Nocturn shrank, reduced to nothing but a speck as the building began to collapse. His hands went to his side automatically, snatching his thermos and sucking the ghost inside, and the dreams Danny fed on and that filled his head were gone ( because oh, no, he fed on dreams, he did that, no better than Spectra, there was no giving them back ), cutoff in an instant as he collapsed to his knees and the building began to crumble around him. His whole body felt raw, an exposed wire, and his core ached painfully in his chest, but he couldn’t focus enough to change back. Couldn’t grasp that tiny, warm light of humanity inside himself even though he could feel it faintly glimmering just beside his core. But he needed to escape. Even in his ghost form, he doubted he could survive an entire building collapsing on top of him.

His stomach churned at the idea, but he had to teleport. FentonWorks wasn’t a good idea, not if the ghost shield was up, since he didn’t know what would happen if he tried to teleport through it. But with the state he was in, if he tried anywhere that he didn’t have a strong connection to, Danny worried that he might not make it. Theoretically he could teleport anywhere, but in reality, it was always easier to go somewhere that felt like home.

And gripping the thermos tightly to his chest, he picked the only spot he could think of, hoping they would forgive him, hoping they wouldn’t hate him as his world twisted and spun and he flung himself back to the home of his oldest friend.

Chapter Text

Tucker wasn’t usually so lucky. He earned the awful nickname “Bad Luck Tuck” for a reason.

But of everyone in his house, he was the one currently awake right now, alive and okay, while his parents and Sam lay unconscious, and Danny . . . His mind struggled to think about Danny. Things were so much easier when they thought he was possessed, not maybe dead or half-dead or whatever the heck he actually was. In the span of five minutes, Danny went from his friend who could have friendly chats with ghosts and had one or two odd but relatively minor abilities, to a who-knew-what shooting ecto blasts, turning invisible and intangible and creating shields. He knew literally nothing about Danny anymore, his friend a perfect and terrifying stranger.

Shaken as he was, Tucker tried to do as Danny instructed when he left to go fight the ghosts. He didn’t have any ecto weapons, but he did have the specter deflector still and so he put it on, wondering if it would hurt Danny, but it was the only defense he had and hopefully Danny would understand. The specter deflector probably wouldn’t do much. Tucker seriously doubted it could stop those things if they attacked or used that weird power on him, but it was better than nothing.

He checked Sam’s pulse again despite being able to see her chest slowly rise and fall. She wore a small smile, her eyes twitching as if dreaming, but like his parents she would not wake up. What if this didn’t get better? What if they all remained asleep forever because of what the ghost did to them? 

Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed 9-1-1, and felt a twinge of fear as it rang endlessly and no one answered. “Fentons, then,” he decided, talking to himself in an effort to try to keep his panic under control. Danny wouldn’t answer, of course, too busy fighting ghosts, even though he was a ghost? Maybe? He couldn’t think about it, not right now. It was too much for him to handle with everything else happening. Tucker needed to focus. Who else could he call for help? Jazz, maybe? He pulled up her contact and dialed, the call connecting within seconds as she answered.

“Hello?” 

Oh thank goodness. “Jazz, it’s Tucker. There are some ghosts that came to my house and they did something to my parents and Sam. I don’t know what it is and no one’s picking up at 9-1-1. I didn’t even think they were allowed to not pick up the phone when you called 9-1-1!”

“They might have been attacked too,” said Jazz, sounding impossibly calm even as Tucker felt himself spiraling. “They’re all over town. As far as we can tell, all they’re doing is putting people to sleep, but we haven’t been able to wake anyone up and Mom and I are hiding under the ghost shield right now while Dad is out looking for Danny. Any chance he’s still with you?”

“No, he left a while ago,” he said uneasily, trying not to break out into insane giggles. Oh, god. Danny. How could he even begin to tell Jazz and the others about Danny when he still didn’t understand even half of it? How could he tell them that Danny might actually be dead and a ghost and not one of them noticed? “I think his phone wasn’t charged, though.”

“Ugh, of course it wasn’t. I really wish he’d remember how much people worry about him sometimes,” she said. “He still keeps trying to do everything by himself. But at least Phantom and Valerie are out there right now, too. Mom’s trying to help them track down the ghost doing all of this.”

“Phantom’s back?” He should have been happy about that, but instead he felt a weird sort of queasiness thinking about the ghost. There was something he was missing, wasn’t there? Something obvious about Phantom and Danny, but he wasn’t sure what. 

“Apparently. I think it’s a good thing. Mom is, well, let’s say a little wary about Phantom given how long he’s been gone,” she said. “But I might be able to have Dad come pick you up, at least, and get you under the ghost shield if you want.”

“I’ve got a specter deflector,” said Tucker. He remained unconvinced that it would do anything, but there was no way he was going to get in that GAV while Jack Fenton was behind the wheel. “And your Dad’s driving is way scarier than taking a nap if the ghosts do get me.” Hopefully. Probably. Either way, he heard Jazz laugh quietly on the phone. “Call me when you get an update, okay?”

“Of course. And if you see Danny–”

“--I’ll call you, Jazz. Promise. Stay safe.”

“You, too.” 

Running downstairs, he checked on his parents again, confirming they were still breathing, and he tried unsuccessfully to shift them both to a more comfortable position on the couch before hurrying back upstairs to his room. Sam’s mouth was still moving silently in her sleep as he sat down at his computer. There were dozens of stories about what the news was calling the “sleepwalkers,” including one unfortunate video of poor Lance Thunder being accosted as he gave an update on the weather. His social media apps were mostly devoid of updates. A handful of kids from school were talking about it. There was a likely worthless video from Paulina on TikTok, and what was probably an even worse video from Wes Weston. Sometimes Tucker found Wes’s weird conspiracy videos kind of funny, but right now as he glanced at his sleeping friend he found he was in no mood.

And then came the scream.

He felt it before he heard it. A violent shiver ran through him, so intense and jarring he almost vomited all over his keyboard, and then it echoed through Amity Park, a nightmarish wail that made the ground quake. Sam’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, shoving her hands over her ears as tears leaked from her eyes, and Tucker could feel himself crying, too, as he gritted his teeth and wished it would end. The scream was full of pain and grief and rage, and his chest ached and his stomach churned, and just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore the screaming and shaking stopped. 

The echo of it in his own mind remained, though, making him shiver. 

“Sam?” His voice croaked, the word barely making it out as he wiped the tears away on his sleeve. “You okay?”

“Not really,” she said, shaking violently, and he grabbed a blanket and threw it around her shoulders. “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t know.” There was a loud thumping on the stairs, and a moment later his Mom opened the door, looking similarly startled and unsettled. 

“You kids okay?” Tucker nodded. “Thank goodness. Did you hear that, too?”

“Yeah. It’s some kind of ghost attack,” said Tucker. “There’s stuff all over the news about it. You and everyone else fell asleep because of some creepy ghost. I–I thought–”

“--shhh, it’s okay, honey,” she said, throwing her arms around him, and although he might normally be a bit embarrassed to get a hug from his Mom in front of Sam, right now he didn’t care. He leaned into it, letting her comfort him for a minute, impossibly glad that she and Dad and Sam were okay and weren’t going to be stuck in some ghost induced coma forever. “Your father and I are going to check and make sure nothing was damaged. Do you kids need anything?”

“I don’t think so,” said Sam. “I feel kind of sick from whatever that was. I’m not super feeling in the mood for ice cream anymore.”

“Okay. If you change your mind or if you want a ride home, let us know, and–” She paused, taking in his room again. “Wasn’t Danny here, too?”

“Uh, yeah, but he left like a minute before everything went weird. I’m sure he’s fine, Mom,” lied Tucker as he nearly pushed her out the door. He hated this. He knew Danny wasn’t fine, nothing was fine, not after what he saw.

“You sure?” Ughhh. Of course she could tell he was lying, too. How did Danny do this so convincingly for so long? Then again, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t as if Tucker and Sam and everyone else hadn’t noticed there was something horribly wrong with him since his accident. They just hadn’t noticed how wrong. They hadn’t done enough, they hadn’t–they should have–He pushed the thoughts down, trying not to spiral again.

“Yup. Totally sure. I’ll, um, text him again, though. Just in case.”

“You do that,” she said, and his Mom left, shutting the door behind her, and Tucker let out a long, shaky breath.

“We were asleep?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah. Some ghosts came inside while you were downstairs,” he explained. How the hell could he explain what happened then?

“Did Danny get it to leave?”

“Uh, yeah, he did. He decided to go after them. But Sam, it wasn’t like he just talked to them or whatever like the last time and–” He stopped as a small popping sound suddenly interrupted him, and for the second time that night, a ghost appeared in his house.

Kneeling on his bed was the strangest ghost Tucker ever saw. Humanoid in shape, its white hair danced across its head like flames, and it seemed not so much made of flesh but of the night sky itself, more of a strange sort of void in the shape of a person than actual, present being with thousands of tiny stars traveling through it. Flames and smoke danced over its skin, and its clawed hands clutched Tucker’s blankets. With a jolt he realized he saw this once before, with Phantom when the ghost’s glove was destroyed, and as Tucker studied it further he saw the strange, silvery green fern-like pattern sprawling up from his left arm and across its chest, stopping abruptly around his heart. 

“Phantom?” he asked as Sam sat frozen, her eyes wide. 

“No! It’s not–I’m not–I swear I’m still me. Please don’t scream,” the ghost begged as its voice echoed, and as it looked up its green eyes locked with Tucker’s own. For the first time he saw the thermos clutched under one arm, and much to his surprise, the ghost was trembling, inexplicably terrified of him and Sam.

And although Tucker didn’t understand it, he wasn’t scared of what should have been an absolutely horrifying monster on his bed. Something about the ghost was immediately, intensely familiar despite its seeming insistence that it wasn’t Phantom.

But it was Sam who figured it out first despite not having a clue what happened earlier. “Danny?”

He flinched, and although physically this ghost had little in common with his best friend beyond his size and the shape of his form, the moment Sam said it Tucker knew she was right with a certainty he only felt once or twice in his life. He expected or maybe hoped for a denial, a deflection, something . . . but it didn’t come. 

“It is you, isn’t it? It sounds like you and feels like you, somehow, but what happened?” she whispered.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” he sputtered, holding out the thermos to them, stubbornly refusing to answer their questions again, and Tucker doubted he could get a more solid confirmation that this was Danny than that. “I can’t–they can’t see me this way, but he can’t just be released back into the Ghost Zone. He’s too dangerous.”

“Are you–are you dead?” asked Tucker for the second time that night, his voice tight. He didn’t care about the ghost or the thermos or whatever right now, no matter how awful that ghost attack was, but this–this wasn’t like when Danny left and still looked human. Was this what he meant before about being able to be a ghost or something? Or was he–had something–Tucker didn’t want him to be dead. He didn’t. But as he looked at Danny, he had a hard time believing he could be anything but. 

Before Danny could answer,  Tucker felt his phone buzz in his hand, and glancing down at the screen he let out a soft curse. “Shit. It’s Jazz.”

“She–my parents–they have to get the thermos and figure out a way to contain Nocturn until I can–until I’m not–,” stuttered Danny, and the mention of his parents hit Tucker like a train as he and Sam exchanged an uneasy look. What the hell were they supposed to do? Why didn’t Danny go to them instead? Why didn’t Danny at least deny being dead this time, like he had earlier? “Please. I–please don’t let this be for nothing.”

Oh no. He did not like the sound of that. “Can I–should I tell her that you’re–” he gestured uncertainly at him, unable to form the words a second time as the weight of what it meant truly began to hit him.

“N-no. Just the thermos. Please.”

Although he didn’t want to lie to Jazz, Tucker also didn’t want to be the one to tell her that Danny was dead, probably fully dead, especially not over the phone, and that thought sent a dagger through him as he realized there was no doubt that whatever line Danny was toeing before, he firmly crossed it tonight. Answering the call, he took a deep breath, hoping his voice wouldn’t quaver as he spoke. “Hey, Jazz. You okay?” 

“We’re fine! It seems like people woke up after that awful screaming,” she said, and Danny flinched again. Ah. Well, at least he knew the source now, but if Danny made a sound like that as he died . . . What the hell happened to him? The scream was awful, so full of pain and anguish and grief that realizing Danny made that sound made him physically sick. How badly had they failed him for Danny to sound like that? “Everyone okay?” 

“My parents and Sam are all awake, and, um . . . Phantom dropped off the thermos with the ghost in it. He needs your parents to come by and get it. I guess he had to be somewhere. Or something?” Tucker winced. That shouldn’t have been a question, but there was no way he could explain it was Danny and not Phantom that defeated the ghost, no matter how much the creepy, inky void and stars thing kept reminding him of Phantom. Maybe all the times Phantom overshadowed Danny, regardless of how innocuous Danny claimed it was, left their mark. “He said the ghost is super dangerous, though. He suggested not putting it back into the ghost zone yet.”

“Danny won’t like that, I bet,” said Jazz, and Tucker’s hands shook so badly he almost dropped his phone. 

“Haha, yeah, probably not,” he squeaked. “But, uh, you said your Dad was driving around, right? Maybe he can come get the thermos?”

“Sure. I’ll let him know.” She was silent for a moment, and Tucker felt his stomach drop. She noticed, didn’t she, that he was a gibbering train wreck. Jazz was always too sharp. “Are you sure everything is okay, Tucker? You sound kind of freaked out.”

“A ghost just put half the town to sleep, a freaky ghost scream made me want to throw up, and now I have a thermos with the aforementioned super dangerous ghost inside it,” he sputtered rapidly. “Of course I’m freaked out, Jazz.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Any word from my brother yet? I know you said his battery was dead, but I was hoping he would have gotten in touch with someone by now.”

“Not yet,” he lied, the words feeling heavy on his tongue as the word ‘dead’ made his mind start spinning again. “I’m–I’m sure we’ll find him soon.” He couldn’t bring himself to promise that Danny would be okay. Not when he knew the truth. “Keep us posted if he comes home?”

“Always. And Dad texted he’ll be there in ten minutes or so, depending on the roads. I guess there’s a lot of accidents.”

“At least he didn’t cause them.” The joke was weak, but given the moment, it was the best he could bring himself to do as he stared at the ghost of his dead friend trembling while he kneeled on his bed.

“Small miracles,” said Jazz.“Try to breathe, Tucker. Whatever it was, at least it’s over now.”

“Right, Jazz. You’re right. It’s totally over. I’ll, um, talk to you soon. Bye.” He slammed the end call button on his screen with his thumb, silently wishing none of this had happened. 

“Thanks,” whispered Danny, his voice echoing. Little by little he was looking less like some nightmarish creature from the void and more like a person. The strange flames and smoke were smaller, the inky shadows clinging to his skin receding, and as things shifted it was increasingly clear that this was Danny.

“You know, as soon as you told us about what you were doing and being a liminal, Danny, I was pretty sure it was going to get you killed,” said Sam, and Tucker could see tears starting to form despite Sam’s best efforts to hold them back. “I just didn’t think you’d prove me right so quickly.”

“What happened?” asked Tucker. Although he was in no rush to experience a death echo again, he felt like he owed it to Danny to hear the truth, even if it hurt. A part of him felt numb, still detached from what was happening, but he could feel his grief building like a tidal wave that would soon overwhelm him. “That was you screaming, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I can’t–right now–” Danny shook his head, gritting his eerily white, pointed teeth. “I need help.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look. “With the thermos? Your Dad’s on it, he’ll be here–”

“--no,” he snapped, and Tucker felt the temperature in the room plummet for a moment. “Sorry. I don’t feel right. It’s all–everything’s just wrong .”

“I kind of think being a ghost wouldn’t be the same as when you were alive,” said Sam carefully, her fingers gripping her skirt so tightly her knuckles were white. Neither of them had any experience with a new ghost, and with how much Danny pulled away from them and hid from them, they didn’t really know Danny that well anymore, either. Something based on just an echo of him, some snapshot of his consciousness as he died, wasn’t a place Tucker thought he could reach. 

“No, the ghost thing, I get, it’s always different, but this,” he said as he gestured at himself. “And I can’t change or –it’s there, I can feel it there, but I can’t reach it. I need help.”

Little of that made sense to Tucker, despite knowing Danny mentioned being a ghost sometimes before he left, and although he wanted to ask questions to try to understand, he knew that wasn't what Danny wanted or needed right now. “Okay, just breathe, or, well, don’t breathe, I guess? Whatever. But tell us what we can do.”

“Talk about something normal. Something human. Please.”

“I got tickets to the Dumpty Humpty concert next month,” said Sam after a moment’s thought. “Three of them, so you could come.” Her voice cracked, but she smiled through it anyway. 

“Seriously? The new lineup sucks,” he whispered, still shaking. He clearly hadn’t thought it through, what it meant. But that didn’t matter. He wanted some kind of reminder of his humanity, of being a person, and they would try to give it to him as best they could. Tucker didn’t understand how it would help, but if there was anything he could do for Danny at that moment, he was going to do it.

“No way! They’ve taken the original spirit of the group and brought it to the next level. Like, Jeffrey is a way better guitarist than Alan ever was,” argued Tucker. His voice barely trembled, but this felt like something easy to talk about. Something safe. And at least this was the truth. “Pure skill alone, dude, the new lineup wins.” 

“It’s all technical, though,” argued Danny, the shadows fading faster from his arms and revealing his ordinary looking, if literally glowing, skin beneath, and maybe this was what he meant. Maybe that monstrous ghost wasn’t what Danny wanted to be, or maybe, somehow, this would help him move on to wherever he needed to go. “There’s no heart anymore. The music sounds like something a robot would make.”

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” said Tucker. “I’d be first in line to hear a group of robots.”

“Ugh, not me,” said Sam. “But I think they’ve definitely got some heart in the new lineup, Danny. It just took them a bit to find their sound. Have you listened to the new album yet?”

“No.”

“I’ve got it downloaded, hang on,” offered Tucker, spinning to his computer, and he skipped to his favorite track as Sam reached out to hold Danny’s hand, squeezing it firmly as if trying to convince herself that somehow, maybe, Danny could stop being a ghost if she just refused to let him go. For a few minutes the three of them listened in silence, the singer’s words echoing in his small room. “This part’s cool, listen.” He turned it up a little so they could hear the guitar solo. 

“Bet I could play that,” said Danny. “I’ve been taking lessons from Ember.”

“In your dreams, space boy,” said Sam, and Danny flinched hard. For a moment Tucker worried about him, wondering if they accidentally triggered some part of his obsession or reminded him of whatever hurt him, but the shadows kept receding as Sam held onto him and they chatted. The faint, glowing fern-like pattern on his arm remained, but the part across his chest was obscured by a dark t-shirt with what looked like an inverted NASA logo. His teeth and face had mostly returned to normal, the only evidence of something ghostly the faint glow around his skin and his still intense, glowing green eyes and white hair that seemed to wave in an invisible breeze. “Even Ember’s lessons can’t get you that far, and Jeffrey is a better guitarist than Ember by like a hundred miles.”

“Don’t let Ember hear you say that,” he said. “Although you’re probably right.”

Tucker stood up, then, and carefully removed his specter deflector before sitting down beside Danny, too. “Don’t want you to get zapped. Seems like it would hurt.” Danny gave him a half-smile. 

“Thanks. I’m not in a rush to get electrocuted again.” Again. Tucker’s stomach plummeted as he considered what Danny meant, not sure if it was just his portal accident or something else, but before he could ask, Danny’s eyes widened and he looked at Sam. “You’re going to need to let go of my hand. I don’t actually know if this can hurt you.”

Sam let go reluctantly, clearly not wanting to risk Danny disappearing on them. As if they could stop him if he really wanted to go or needed to go. They knew so little about ghosts, somehow, despite the last couple of years of seemingly endless ghost attacks. Tucker wished he knew more, if only so he could help Danny. “If what hurts?” 

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light as a circle appeared around Danny’s waist. For a brief second, Tucker wondered if this meant he was moving on or getting pulled into the Ghost Zone but then the rings traveled over Danny, and within seconds he appeared to be back to normal. The glow was gone, his hair and eyes were their usual and thankfully very human colors, and the weird glowing pattern on his arm vanished (or maybe the hoodie just hid it - Tucker wasn’t totally sure). Danny drew in a sharp breath as the song changed to the next track on the new album, his breath a little wheezy as he put one hand on his chest over his heart, feeling it beat for a moment. 

“Oh thank goodness,” he breathed, tears in his now very blue, very normal eyes. “Like, seriously, thanks. I know I owe you both the longest explanation ever, but I just–I thought I was going to be stuck like that forever.”

“You’re not dead?” Tucker reached out, grabbing Danny’s left wrist. His skin was clammy and ice cold, but he could feel Danny’s sluggish pulse under his fingers. 

“Not anymore than usual.” He pulled his arm back, quickly wiping away the tears. “I’ve never been stuck like that before, in that way. I knew I wasn’t like completely dead or anything, since I could still feel that warmth there next to my core, but I couldn’t grab onto it. I thought I might’ve gone too far, for a minute.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making a lot of sense. I’m still just kind of freaked out.”

“Join the club,” said Sam as she held up her hand, showing how much it shook. “Five minutes ago I thought you were dead, and now? You could’ve, like, opened up with the ‘Oh, hey, guys, I’m not dead, it’s fine. I can be a totally normal human or a totally freaky ghost whenever.’”

“I wasn’t sure I could be,” said Danny as he stared at the thermos. “That ghost, Nocturn . . . I thought I lost myself, stopping him. I think if you two hadn’t been here, then I don’t know if I could’ve come back from that without you. I don’t know, honestly, if I should keep apologizing or thanking you.”

“You could do both,” suggested Tucker. “But I think I’d rather get some kind of explanation. I’m kind of worried I’m hallucinating at this point or having like, the worst nightmare ever.”

“It’s not a nightmare. Not, like, most of the time,” said Danny with a shudder as he closed his eyes for a moment and continued to feel his heart beat steadily beneath his hand. Letting out another slow breath, Tucker heard him count softly for a moment before breathing once more and opening his eyes again. “Sorry. Just needed a minute.”

“It’s okay, just . . . yeah. Explanations, if you can.”

Danny nodded. “Right. Okay. Um . . . so when I said that there’s a range with what liminals are like when we talked a few weeks ago, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Most are kind of what my parents think. They’re people who had some near-death experience near a portal or weak spot between Earth and the Ghost Zone, got exposed to some ectoplasmic energy, and suffer from permanent ecto contamination. That contamination is what makes them different, I think. They’ve got a range of abilities and stuff, but most can’t do more than talk to ghosts in their own language, feel where ghosts or portals might be, whatever.”

“My accident was more extreme,” he continued. “You kind of experienced it a little, then. I don’t want to make you go through another death echo, but, uh, I was in the largest known portal between our world and the Ghost Zone. The amount of energy, of ectoplasm–” He stopped as the temperature in the room began to drop, and for a half-second Tucker swore he could see the portal in the wall of his room before it vanished. “Sorry. It’s hard to think about without starting to panic. I really, really don’t recommend the whole almost but not quite dying thing.”

“I don’t remember a lot of what happened after. I woke up in the hospital and my memory was kind of patchy, but the first moment I realized something was wrong was when my arm went invisible and intangible,” he said, and Tucker almost fell off the bed  when Danny held up an arm and made it disappear and reappear to demonstrate.

“Jeez, dude, warn a guy,” he hissed as Sam paled. He was not used to seeing his friend do this, despite it being maybe the least terrifying thing he witnessed Danny do all night. He knew he shouldn’t react to it so much, especially from the hurt look on Danny’s face, but at this point Tucker was barely keeping it together. 

“Right. Sorry. I just–” He stopped, shaking his head. “Right. I don’t really know how I managed to hide it while I was in the hospital. It kept happening at random, I couldn’t control it. Everyone just thought I was clumsy or stupid or anxious because my stupid IV kept coming out and it just–it sucked. And at first, like, I thought about telling my parents or my sister, because it was super freaky and I was scared I might be dead, and then they started to talk about the portal and what they planned to do to the ghosts and I–”

He broke off, his fingers gripping the thermos tightly as he forced himself to breathe. “I thought about telling both of you, too. I figured it was weird and creepy, but you’ve both been my friends for a long time. I thought that if anyone could accept it, maybe you two could, and at least then I might not get stuck dealing with all of this alone.”

“But then it got worse. I started waking up in the basement in front of the portal,” he said. “And the third time it happened, I wasn’t–I wasn’t me anymore. I wasn’t human.”

“You were a ghost.” It wasn’t a question, not really, but Danny nodded anyway.

“Yeah. I was a ghost, wearing the same exact thing I died in when I stepped into the portal that day,” he said. “It was a blessing, really, since my parents heard the alarm go off in the lab and when they got there, thanks to the suit, they didn’t recognize me. I managed to stumble through the portal before they could catch me or shoot me. Turns out my Dad’s a pretty bad shot. But my Mom–” His voice cracked, and Tucker saw he was crying again. “Crud. Sorry. I don’t mean to–I just–”

“--you can cry, Danny, it’s fine,” said Sam. “If you gotta let it out, let it out. I can’t imagine what it’s like for your own parents to try and hurt you. I mean, my parents suck, they don’t understand me at all, and sometimes what they do feels like torture, but it’s not even kind of the same thing as someone you love pointing a weapon at you.”

“Yeah, I don’t recommend it,” he said with a dark, strained chuckle. “It hurts even when they miss.”

Tucker shared a worried look with Sam. “Danny . . . you don’t have to go home, if you don’t want to. My parents would be happy to let you crash here for like ever.”

“I’ve got like five extra rooms in my house, too, if you wanted to stay in one,” added Sam. “My parents wouldn’t even know you were there.”

“It’s not their fault,” he said. “They don’t know the truth. I can’t be mad at them for it, not when they don’t even realize it’s me.”

“You’re allowed to be mad at them, Danny,” said Sam, but he simply shook his head. Sighing, she reached out her hand again, grabbing Danny’s own and squeezing it tightly. “Look, have you thought about telling them the truth? Do you think they’d still try to hurt you if they knew what you were?”

“If you asked me that question a year ago . . . I don’t know. I want to believe they wouldn’t hurt me, but it’s hard, seeing what I’ve seen and knowing the kinds of experiments they’ve done and tried to do,” said Danny. “But now? They’re at least open to the idea that ghosts aren’t inherently all monsters. I’ve thought about telling them everything dozens of times, but in my head, it still goes wrong, even though I know they’re starting to rethink all of their theories and stuff. I still don’t think I’m ready yet, but it’s–it’s okay. It’s been like this for ages now. I’ll be fine.”

Tucker remained unconvinced. He never thought of the Fentons as a threat - they clearly loved their kids dearly, and after Danny’s accident they took dozens of additional safety precautions to try to ensure something like that would never happen again - but having having seen them shoot at ghosts without any hesitation and knowing what Danny looked like as a ghost now made him less certain than he wanted to be that they would welcome their somewhat eldritch looking son with open arms.

“Danny, you’re not fine,” argued Sam. “I–”

“--I’m not going to fight about this,” he interrupted, and Tucker shivered as the room grew colder. “Please. I appreciate that you both care and that you’re worried. I get it. I do. But I’ll be okay.”

“Saying you’ll be okay just doesn’t land the way it used to, Danny. Not when you’ve been saying it for over a year despite clearly not being okay and when only ten minutes ago you were a ghostly wreck sitting on my bed,” said Tucker. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, again, and Tucker wanted to choke him for it. He was mad at his friend and Danny definitely owed him and Sam about a million apologies, but not for this. And Tucker and Sam probably owed him about a dozen apologies, too. For not realizing it sooner. For not being good enough friends for Danny to feel like he could trust them with this. For literally everything. But it felt like a waste of time to go in circles with it. 

“How often do you go all ghostly like that?” said Sam. She clearly wanted to argue with Danny more about his parents, but they both knew it was pointless, their friend too stubborn. They weren’t going to drop it, though. He needed to tell his family before he got hurt, and if Danny refused, then he and Sam might need to figure out a way to do it for him.

“Uh, like that specifically? That was kind of a first. I don’t usually take off my Hazmat suit,” he said. “More because of terror about what was underneath it than, like, because I can’t, although I’m pretty sure there’s a fused zipper or something.”

It clicked for Tucker, then. The connection between them, that felt so painfully obvious now he wanted to smack himself in the forehead. “Wait. I was right, then, when you first showed up here? You’re Phantom.”

“Yeah. Fenton, Phantom. Get it?” He smiled at the lame play on words, his fingers picking at his bed spread when they didn’t laugh. “I thought it was clever, I guess.” 

“So, like, wait. You’re all about ghost rights and stuff but then you spend every other minute hunting them down? Do they know it’s you?” said Sam.

“No. Well, most of them don’t,” he said as he stared down at the thermos. “There’s at least one who figured it out, mostly because he haunts the school, but I thought it was just him. Part of what scares me about the ghost tonight, Nocturn, was that he knew exactly who and what I was even though I’d never met him before, and if he knew, then there might be others out there, too, that know the truth. The ghosts generally hate liminals. They tolerate us, at best, but I’ve heard some nasty slurs from more than a few ghosts about others. And some of them . . . pretty much all of the ghosts despise Phantom. They see him–well, me–as a traitor. A lot of them would love to see me locked away in a thermos or Walker’s jail or some other hole where I can’t bother them ever again.”

“If they learned the truth, it would undermine everything I’ve been trying to do as Fenton,” he said, and Tucker’s insides squirmed. He did not love the way that Danny separated himself, made a distinction between who he was as a ghost and who he was as a human. Jazz would probably say it was a coping mechanism. Tucker worried it would break him. “The ghosts really are more than my parents think, and because of what I am, I can understand them in ways nobody else ever will. I want to give them a chance to be better. I hate stuffing them in a thermos. I know how much it sucks inside that thing. The thought of leaving Nocturn in here makes me want to throw up, but I’m also terrified of the damage he could do if he escapes. He–this was the worst fight I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in some really, really ugly ones.”

“Danny, you–” he began, but there was a loud knock on the door that made Tucker nearly jump out of his skin. 

“Hey, Tucker? Danny’s father is here. He said something about a thermos?” his Mom said as she opened the door, and then she blinked as she took in the three of them sitting on his bed. “Oh, Danny. You are still here. I thought you left.”

“Uhh, nope, I couldn’t make it very far,” he said with an uneasy shrug. “And I’m kind of sneaky, so you might not have seen me come in a few minutes ago. But Tucker texted me and let me know my Dad was on his way, so I figured I would get a ride home with him. The ghost attack tonight has me kind of freaked out.”

“You’re not alone,” said Mom with a smile. “And I’m pretty sure I slept through most of it until that awful screaming sound.”

“Yeah, me, too,” lied Danny as he rubbed the back of his neck. Tucker felt a little nauseous, then, as he watched just how easily Danny told one lie after another. Although Tucker had been caught up in everything that was happening, it was a jarring reminder of just how much Danny hid everything from everyone, including him and Sam, for so long. How much he would continue to hide from everyone. And the nagging little question of just how deep this rabbit hole went worried Tucker. He understood, at least, why Danny hadn’t told them everything. It still stung, but putting himself in Danny’s place, knowing how quickly Tucker and Sam and everyone else in Amity Park turned against the ghosts, knowing that he was the very creature his parents had spent a lifetime instilling an intense fear and hatred of within him . . . In so many ways, he understood why Danny felt like he had no choice but to lie.

And while Danny lying to them upset Tucker, he worried how much worse hiding everything must have hurt Danny. How much it had to sting to believe that there was no one in his life that he could trust or confide in or really be himself with. 

“Can you tell my Dad I’ll be down in a minute?” asked Danny.

“Of course, hon,” she said as she retreated down the stairs. 

“I know there’s still a lot of stuff I haven’t told you and that you’ve still probably got like a million questions,” said Danny, “but I really should go. And I get you–if you don’t want anything to do with me. Really. I–I get it.”

“I’m not going to lie, Danny,” said Sam. “I’m super fucking freaked out right now, and I’m pretty angry that even after everything a few weeks ago, you were still keeping something this big from us and lying again . I knew you said you were keeping more stuff from everyone, that there were other things you had to tell us, but I never imagined it would be something this big.” She let out a long breath, her fingers tightly gripping the bedspread still. “But I also get why you did. This is just–it’s so much, and it’s terrifying to think that you might not be fully alive and to even start considering what your parents could’ve done to you or still might do to you and . . . I’m sorry, Danny. I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to say or what to think or even feel. I just . . . I might need a couple of days to think about it, to think about all of this. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you need,” he said, even as he looked crushed, and Tucker felt a flash of irritation with Sam, even as he understood her, too. This was a lot. 

He turned to go when Tucker stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Look, I–I don’t get it, much, but–I’m–you’re my best friend. Still are. And I’ll be here for you no matter what,” said Tucker, wishing his voice didn’t waver so much as he spoke. It felt so insufficient after everything they learned, but he didn’t know what else to do or say. “And I’m sorry that we didn’t–that we didn’t figure this out sooner. That you didn’t feel like you could trust us.”

But it was enough, maybe, since Danny brightened a little at that, digging his shoe into the carpet as he mulled it over.  “I . . . thanks, Tuck. But it wasn’t about the two of you, not really. I just–I was scared, I guess. I get that this is–that it’s probably too much. And I won’t be mad if you change your mind. I get it. The only–if you do, just please don’t tell anyone the truth. There are more people than my parents that would be excited to turn me into a lab rat if they knew.”

“Who the hell would believe this, anyway?” said Sam, throwing up her hands.

“Wes would. Have you seen that guy’s conspiracy theory videos? They’re completely nuts,” said Tucker as he forced a smile. “But you should get going. And, um, seriously. The offer stands, no matter what. If you need a place, my door is open.” Even if he couldn’t get right with this, he wouldn’t let Danny get hurt if there was a way for him to stop it. He wanted to help him, to try to make up for it all somehow, even if he doubted he ever really could.

“Thanks,” Danny said as he left, leaving the two of them alone.

“So . . . that was a thing, huh?” said Tucker eventually as he shifted uneasily on the bed.

“Understatement of the year,” said Sam. “I hate this, Tucker. I want to be mad–I feel mad–but this? After seeing him all ghostly like that and everything? I get why he was too scared to tell us. I think I’m going to have nightmares about it for weeks.”

“I thought you liked dark and creepy.”

“That wasn’t just dark and creepy, it was Cthulu like. Madness inducing,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not the same as thinking that there’s a strange kind of beauty in skulls, Tuck. That mouth full of teeth, the claws, the creepy shadow void thing and stuff. All of it was terrifying, even though it somehow didn’t feel that way because it’s him and I just–I hate it. I hate being so judgy and doing exactly what he was scared we would do since it feels like it justifies him not telling us and all of the lies even though it shouldn’t. I hate thinking of him as a monster. But I can’t help it, right now. It took everything in me not to scream.”

“Most of the time he just looks like a dork in a Hazmat suit, though,” said Tucker. His reaction to Danny hadn’t been quite so visceral - to him, there had been a strange kind of beauty and familiarity to it. “Way less horrifying. And I don’t think Danny would blame you for being freaked out. He seemed pretty unsettled by it, too. In the fight with him as Phantom a few weeks ago he mentioned he never looked beneath the suit before. I got a glimpse, then, of what was under there, and it was kind of scary, but I think him being actually dead is way more horrifying.”

Sam sighed. “I know it is, I just . . . I can’t really help how I feel. I’m trying. I want to try to find a way to accept this, to accept everything about it and to not be super pissed about all the lying he’s done, because I get that this isn’t, like nothing, that what he’s going through has been way worse than a few lies and what we’ve gone through, but we’re also–we’re supposed to be his friends and I just–I hate this, Tucker. I don’t know what to do or how to accept all of this.”

“I don’t think Danny expects you to right away, Sam. Seriously, you’re being too hard on yourself,” said Tucker. “This is, like, a lot. Way more than I ever could have guessed, and I still feel like we’ve barely even scratched the surface here.”

“I know, I know, I just . . . I need time, I guess.” She shivered, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms as she stared down at their notebooks from earlier. “Think they’ll cancel school tomorrow?”

“Not a chance.”

Chapter Text

School was canceled for the rest of the week. Between car accidents and people falling asleep in the midst of work and other activities, Amity Park’s infrastructure suffered some severe damage. Casper High wouldn’t have power back before the end of Friday at the earliest, and there were other parts of town that might not have power for over a week. They were lucky nobody died during the sleepwalker attack, luckier still that most of the injuries seemed relatively minor and that the attack hadn’t hit the hospital or anywhere else where the consequences may have been by far more deadly.

It was, by a wide margin, the worst ghost attack Amity suffered to date, which meant naturally there were countless people knocking on their door, asking Maddie and Jack why they hadn’t prepared the town better, demanding the portal be shut down (even though they’d proven already that it wouldn’t do anything useful), and begging the government to send in folks from the Ghost Investigation Ward. 

Asking about the scream, which was still giving her and everyone else in Amity Park nightmares.

She and Jack were due to attend a meeting with the mayor next week to discuss possible strategies and solutions in case something similar ever happened again. Maddie didn’t want to think about the possibility, much as she knew they had to. If Phantom hadn’t returned when he did, she didn’t think she or Jack could have stopped the attack. None of their weapons were powerful enough based on the readings they managed to get, even if they managed to fix the issues with the ecto-skeleton, and her thoughts drifted uneasily to the containment field and thermos in the basement, wondering how long they could keep the ghost captive before it escaped. 

At least she and Jack and Jazz were okay, thanks to the shield at FentonWorks. But Danny . . . Danny, who was opening up more and more to them before the attack now that they knew the truth, had retreated into silence again, no doubt scarred by what happened since he hadn’t made it through the sleepwalker attack unscathed. He said he was ambushed, put to sleep, and woke up to the scream. That he managed to find his way back to Tucker’s house, not wanting to walk home after seeing all of the damage and knowing he could use Tucker’s phone to call them since his own died. Jack picked him up and brought him home. She could see him trembling when he walked in, looking paler than usual a little nauseous. She knew it had to be hard, given how much he wanted to believe that the ghosts could be less than the violent specters she and Jack taught them they were, despite even Danny acknowledging that there were exceptions to his own beliefs.  But he didn’t want to talk about it, either, brushing them off and then giving her and Jack a quick hug before he stumbled up the stairs and went to bed. 

She watched Danny now as she sat across the table from her. Maddie was reviewing some research while eating breakfast. His appetite was low before the sleepwalker attack, but now it was nearly non-existent, her son not so much eating as simply stirring his cereal and milk around in his bowl. “Honey.” Danny glanced up at her, dark shadows under his eyes. “You need to eat something.”

“I just don’t feel hungry,” he mumbled as he dropped the spoon and pushed the bowl aside. 

“Danny, you’ve barely eaten anything in days,” she said. She hated to force this, but at this point she had to, and she tried to be gentle about it at first, at least. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing tastes right,” he said. “It’s just . . . I don’t know.” 

“Well, you are eating cheerios, hon. They’re not exactly known for their intense flavors,” she teased gently, but he didn’t so much as crack a smile. Maddie bit her lip, considering. “I know you hate the idea, but I’m going to try to see if we can reschedule the therapy appointment you missed the other week.” Missing it wasn’t an accident - Danny deliberately skipped it, claiming he didn’t need to go, and Maddie should’ve pushed it then but didn’t since at that point he seemed to be taking small steps in the right direction. 

“No therapists,” he insisted, gritting his teeth. 

“Sweetie, I don’t want to upset you, okay?” she said. “But if you keep not eating and, from the looks of it, not sleeping, then it’s going to either be a therapist or a hospital visit. There isn’t a third option.”

Danny muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch as he pulled the bowl of cereal back in front of him and shoved a spoonful into his mouth, grimacing as he forced it down, and she swore she saw a hint of green in his blue eyes. “See?” he mumbled as he scooped up another bite with a scowl. “I’m eating. So no therapy or hospitals required. Happy?”

Maddie sighed, barely resisting the urge to put her head in her hands. She tried so hard to be gentle, and she still pushed him too far. While he was at least eating something now, this wasn’t the way she wanted it to happen, and she tried to think of something else, some way to ease the tension and the wall she could feel going up between them again. “Were you planning to see Sam and Tucker today?”

His hand froze as he scooped another bite of cereal, and it seemed like she inadvertently stumbled onto one part of the reason for her son’s latest sour mood. “No,” he said. “They–we had a–not a fight, I guess, but they’re just . . . I don’t know. They’re having trouble with all the ghost stuff and said they needed some space for a few days.”

“I’m sorry, hon. It’s a lot for anyone to take in. I’m sure your friends will come around eventually,” she said, reaching over to hold his hand, but he pulled his arm in closer, not wanting to be touched, as he kept his eyes locked on his cereal. He forced another bite down, saying nothing to her. 

“Maybe you could catch up on some sleep?” she suggested eventually. “You look exhausted.”

She expected a half-muttered “I’m fine” or for him to ignore her, but instead he pushed his bowl away again, putting his head down on the table. He made it through a little more than half of it. It wasn’t enough, really, but it was more than he ate during any other meal for the last few days. She needed to get him to talk to someone. 

“I’m not sure it’ll do any good,” he mumbled into his arms. 

“Oh?”

“I keep having nightmares,” he said, lifting his head to look at her for a moment before turning to stare out the window over the sink. “It kind of sounds like everyone else had dreams during the sleepwalker attack, but I didn’t. Just nightmares.” 

“Sometimes I find it helps if I talk about my nightmares,” she said. “Do you want to tell me about them?”

He said nothing, continuing to stare vacantly, and after a moment she picked up her pen to go through her notes again. She hadn’t really expected him to tell her anything. Even now, even after they learned so much, he continued to hold back and continued not to trust them. She wished she knew why, to have an inkling so she could start to rebuild it.

“Sometimes they’re about my accident,” he said after a few minutes, breaking the silence, and she started, nearly dropping her pen. He still wouldn’t look at her as he spoke. “Or about being in the hospital and all the stuff that just happened after my accident, y’know? But then . . . In  some of my nightmares I’m a ghost.” The words were so quiet it was hard for her to hear him, an odd tension there as he continued. “And I keep getting hunted down and experimented on.”

Maddie felt her blood run cold. She wasn’t responsible for whatever she or Jack might do in his nightmares, but she knew where this was headed before he said it. Why he couldn’t bear to look at her. “By your father and I?”

“Yeah. And sometimes not. Sometimes it’s people from the government, sometimes it’s others. But usually it’s the two of you,” he admitted, sounding so fragile, and she could tell he was expecting something from her, but she didn’t know what, and her mind spun as she tried to figure out the right thing to say.

“You know the nightmares aren’t real,” she said. “Your father and I, we’d never hurt you, Danny.”

“I know.” His voice was tight, and she knew that somehow, she failed. That this wasn’t what he wanted or needed from her, and he stood up and grabbed his bowl, emptying the contents into the trash and then putting the dish by the sink. “Sorry. It’s stupid. I’m going to try and go back to bed. See if I can get more sleep.”

“Danny,” she said, getting half to her feet and reaching out to him but then she froze as he stopped, watching her closely. “If there’s something we’ve done that makes you think we might hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” he said, which meant it definitely wasn’t fine, but before she could stop him Danny left and hurried upstairs to his room. To try to sleep, and where the only thing that would greet him were nightmares about his own parents hurting him. 

She sat down, putting her head in her hands as she tried to force back the tears. She didn’t understand it. They never threatened their son, never raised a hand to him, never even spanked him or Jazz. She didn’t know where this was coming from. He might be a liminal, but that shouldn’t–it wasn’t the same as being a ghost. They talked through this already, they explained to Danny that it didn’t mean he wasn’t alive or still human. But there was no denying it made him different, and she supposed from his perspective, neither she nor Jack were terribly tolerant when it came to anything remotely supernatural. And maybe that’s all there was at the root of this, just a fear that their own biases would end with them rejecting him or hurting him. Somehow, they needed to do better, to get him to understand that they wouldn’t hurt him simply because he was a liminal.

Maddie really, really wished he would see a therapist, someone neutral he could talk to about his concerns, someone who might be able to help him work through this. Yet despite scheduling him another appointment, she knew there was no way he would attend. It took nearly two years for him to admit to them that he was a liminal and explain what he was doing with the ghosts, and he only did that when he felt like he didn’t have another option. Would he ever be willing to open up to a stranger?

“Morning, Mom,” said Jazz, interrupting her thoughts as she walked in and grabbed some milk and cereal. “Are Dad and Danny still asleep?”

“Your father’s meeting with our colleague Alyce this morning,” said Maddie. It had taken a lot of work to get her to meet with him, and despite the attack, they didn’t dare reschedule with how much worse Danny seemed to be. “Danny was up before me, but he’s gone back to bed. He didn’t sleep well last night.” She didn’t want to talk about his nightmares with her daughter. No doubt Jazz would try to analyze it and try to fix it, but she suspected Danny wouldn’t want Jazz to know. 

“The one who did research on liminals?” Maddie nodded as Jazz sat down across from her. “I read some of her papers after Danny told us everything a couple of weeks ago. There’s some unsettling things in there.”

“Such as?”

“Her note about their reduced lifespans,” said Jazz, and Maddie felt her stomach twist into knots. Of course she picked up on that. “She said most of them don’t live past their thirties. I hoped that there would be some other research out there that said something else, that didn’t show that kind of correlation, but she was the only one that really appeared to have actually studied them. Did you and Dad know?”

“We did,” she admitted. “It’s part of what your father wants to discuss with her.”

“Have you told Danny yet?” asked Jazz as she took a bite. 

“No. We wanted to get more information first,” said Maddie. “We didn’t want to scare him needlessly, not when he still seems so depressed.”

“And if it’s true? If we think he might, um, y’know,” she said, waving a hand uncomfortably, not willing to say the word that Maddie knew was on all of their minds lately whenever they thought about Danny.

“Then we’ll try to see if we can do something about it,” said Maddie. “We’re not going to let your brother go without a fight.” She would not lose her son, not like this. She wouldn’t let him die for their mistakes, and not for the first time, she wished they never built the portal, that he never had his accident, that he didn’t have to suffer so much because of what she and Jack did. But she wouldn’t make a wish - Desiree would only twist it into something horrifying if she heard it - and she wouldn’t let herself dwell on their mistakes endlessly. She could only try to do better, to make things right somehow, in whatever way she could.

Jazz nodded, eating in silence for a few minutes before she looked up at her again. “I’m going to stick around for college,” she announced. 

“Sweetie, you don’t need to do that. Your father and I can figure out the cost for Harvard, and–”

“--if Danny only has a little bit of time left, I want to be here for him,” she interrupted. “I won’t stop going to school, but I’m not going to fly off to New England if these might be the last few years of his life. Amity Park Community College has a good psych program, and I’ve been talking to them already about also majoring in ecto biology and doing an undergraduate thesis on ecto psychology.”

Madde blinked at her. “You’re interested in hunting ghosts, then? Or just studying them?”

“I’m interested in helping them,” said Jazz. “The way that Danny does. I want to make sure there’s someone who can do it even if he can’t. And if he can keep doing it, well, maybe I’ll create a new field or path he can study, too, since he’s probably right that being an astronaut isn’t going to happen. Although he probably doesn’t want to be a ghost therapist even if he might be good at it.”

“Does Danny know?” she asked.

“I was going to talk to him about it later,” she said, and Jazz frowned at her. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“I–what? No, sweetie, of course not. Just surprised, that’s all,” she said, and she meant it. She loved that her children were showing some interest in their life’s work, even if the path they were taking was a different one than what she and Jack chose. And while she still wasn’t entirely convinced that Danny’s approach was best, she was at least open to the possibility, having seen him resolve a few conflicts peacefully. They would always need people like her and Jack that could hunt ghosts–the sleepwalker attack was proof of that–but she was beginning to believe that if Amity Park was going to avoid becoming a literal ghost town, then something needed to change so that the frequent ghost attacks became an oddity rather than an almost daily occurrence. 

Jazz cocked an eyebrow at her. “You sure?” 

“Yes, hon,” she laughed, smiling at her. “You know your father and I have started to reconsider a lot of the early research and work we did that was the basis for most of our current theories about ghosts. The ghosts in the world outside of Amity Park still seem to very much resemble the ones we’ve written dozens of journal articles about, but the ones here are genuinely different. Perhaps it’s the proximity of the portal, their increased physicality, the higher percentage of ambient ectoplasm in the air . . . honestly, there are dozens of potential reasons why. But they’re going to be here for a long time, regardless of what happens to our portal at this point, and if the people here can understand them a little better, whether psychologically or otherwise, they’ll be safer. Even if it’s not what I would do, I’m glad that there will still be a Fenton carrying on our family’s legacy.”

“Jeez, Mom, that’s so dramatic,” Jazz laughed, rolling her eyes, and the two of them sat there and chatted about possible classes until she finished up her breakfast.

Heading upstairs afterward, Maddie checked on Danny briefly. He was in bed, his covers wrapped tightly around him, the star stickers on his ceiling faintly glowing in the semi-darkness. His room was always so chilly, even now despite the warm spring day. They tried to fix the issue a dozen times, calling the heating company and even running a couple of space heaters at one point, but none of it seemed to make a difference. Knowing what she did now, she suspected it had something to do with him being a liminal somehow, perhaps the ghosts leaving a mark on his space if they were spending time with him here in his room when she and Jack and Jazz weren’t home. Although they couldn’t fix it, Maddie took solace in the fact that it usually didn’t seem to bother him much.

His skin looked pale in the dim room, an icy sweat on his forehead, and he was mumbling something under his breath as he tossed and turned. More nightmares, no doubt. She wished there was something she could do to help him, and for a moment she considered going in and sitting next to him but decided against it. If he was having nightmares about her and Jack, waking up to her in his room might frighten him more than help, a thought that made her queasy. That any of her children might ever be scared of her wasn’t something she imagined might be possible, and it stung, knowing that they’d inadvertently hurt him so much despite their best efforts to help him feel safe and loved and protected.

She tried to distract herself, throwing on a load of laundry and cleaning a little downstairs before heading into the basement. One of the ecto blasters was broken, and she put her goggles on and set to work. Nearby, the thermos with the ghost that caused the disaster the other day sat within an additional containment field, one she found herself double and triple checking every few hours. Valerie gave them what information she could, but it was limited since Phantom told her to flee, to try to wake up as many people as she could, and she hadn’t gotten very far when she heard the scream and saw the factory collapse. If Tucker hadn’t seen Phantom afterward, she would have assumed the ghost destabilized based on the odd readings they picked up again, his power fluctuating chaotically. She and Jack would need to analyze it, but right now, she didn’t have the heart to go through the data. 

There was a loud thumping as Jack came bounding down the stairs about an hour later, and glancing up she saw him looking distressed as she put down her tools and moved her goggles onto the top of her head. “How’d it go?” she asked, dreading the answer. 

“She won’t help us,” he said as he sat down, “at least not more than she already did. The only reason she met with me at all was because I eventually mentioned that we were doing it for Danny, and she felt like she owed it to us as friends.”

Maddie’s head spun and she stared at him. “What?”

“Most of the liminals she researched are dead,” he said, his fists clenched tightly and trembling, though whether with anger or fear she wasn’t sure. “And despite what her journal articles suggested, she doesn’t think most of those deaths were accidents. Although there seems to be something about them that draws death to them at a younger age, it’s gotten much worse in the last twenty years than it was in the past.”

“Any idea what happened?” she asked, shivering and rubbing her arms.

“Potentially. She said she received a few death threats from someone powerful, although she wouldn’t say who. She didn’t take it seriously at first, thinking that maybe it was one of those super popular, fake mediums on TV or something that didn’t want her to expose them as a fraud, but it got worse. They managed to get her funding cut for her research and eventually she lost her job at the university. She lost her apartment, too.”

“Did she call the police?” asked Maddie.

“She did, but they wouldn’t or maybe couldn’t do much without knowing more. Eventually she abandoned her research on liminals and it seemed to stop, but she says she still sees these weird ghost birds watching her from time to time, along with a ghost that matches the description of Skulker and another that sounds like it might be the Wisconsin Ghost.”

“The one we saw at Vlad’s mansion?” Maddie bit her lip, considering. “You don’t think Vlad knows something about it, do you?”

“Don’t know. Probably not. He’s a good guy. If anything, he could be at risk, too, if anyone found out about his accident,” said Jack, and Maddie bit her lip, considering. Vlad had an accident with the proto portal back in college, but aside from a brief hospital stay and a nasty bout of ecto acne from the contamination, he had no long term side effects that they were aware of. It was possible he hid it from them somehow, but Maddie doubted it. Danny’s own liminal state was obvious in retrospect, and Vlad had none of the same signs. There was no death mark, no chill that hung in the air around him the way it always did with Danny, no occasionally glowing eyes or oddly cold hands. While he might manage to hide some of those things, she couldn’t imagine him being able to hide all of it. “But maybe the ghost overshadowed him, used his access to get her funding revoked. He only started taking precautions against ghosts after our reunion. We’ll have to talk to him about it, but Alyce asked me not to mention her name to anyone else.”

That, at least, was true. Even if Vlad wasn’t a liminal, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be a target given his wealth and connections, and his current precautions against ghosts might not be sufficient. They definitely wouldn’t have been prior to their portal opening, either, although the thought of the Wisconsin Ghost being around for so much longer than they thought unnerved her given the ghost’s power. “Does she have any idea how the ghost found out about the liminals? Why it’s targeting them and her? I doubt a ghost would work for some kind of fake psychic worried about being recognized as a fraud because of her research.”

“No clue,” said Jack. “She stopped pretty quickly once the threats started to become a reality. She’s back to teaching ecto science, but she’s no longer doing research on liminals, and she’s scrubbed what data she had access to in the hopes that it’ll keep the handful she still knows are alive a bit safer. But we’re going to need Danny and the kids to stay real quiet about everything. If anyone finds out, then he might become a target, too.”

“Right. Maybe we can see about modifying his specter deflector. I know the residual ecto contamination in his system caused it to shock him, but we might be able to figure out a way around that,” said Maddie. “I’m sure he’ll hate wearing it since he won’t want to harm some of the ghosts he’s trying to help, but we have to keep him safe, too.”

“It’s too bad we gave that thermos back to Ember,” he sighed as he stared at the portal for a moment. “The kids mentioned Skulker was in there. We might have been able to question him about it.”

“We should ask Val to keep an eye out for him. Phantom, too, if we see him,” said Maddie. “But we’ll have to be careful about not letting the Skulker learn about Danny’s secret.” There was a chance he might already know, though. After all, they were aware of at least one ghost that did, and they might have a way to sense liminals when ordinary humans couldn’t. “Do you think Phantom may have told anyone about Danny?”

“Don’t know,” said Jack. “Hopefully not.”

“We’re going to have to tell Danny about this,” she said, thinking about her conversation with him earlier. “I’m really worried about him, Jack.”

“Still not eating?”

“Not really. He did after I pushed him a little at breakfast this morning and complained that food just doesn’t taste very good right now. I know he’s depressed, but I thought it would get better after we talked to him a couple of weeks ago and instead it seems like it’s getting worse,,” she said, her voice shaking, and Jack put his hand in hers, gripping it tightly. “He also said he’s been having nightmares about us.”

“Like something happening to us?” asked Jack. “I know that our work is dangerous and it’s put some stress on the kids–”

“--no,” she interrupted. “He’s a ghost, in these nightmares.”

Jack’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth forming a small ‘oh’ as it dawned on him. “We’re hurting him?” She nodded. “But he has to know we’d never do anything to hurt him, right?”

“I said as much, but it didn’t seem to matter. I’m not sure what made him think this–maybe it’s just his friendship with Phantom, since we’ve said some rather unkind things over the years–but I don’t know what to do about it. I want to help him, but at this point, I feel like we’re running out of options. Every time I mention therapy he withdraws more,” she said. “I don’t want to force it, but I think we might have to consider hospitalizing him soon if we don’t want to lose him.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jack promised with a level of confidence she wished she could have. “We always do. And while I don’t want to put more on his plate, I think we still have to tell him about this. Danny and his friends need to understand how serious this is, how much they could get hurt if too many people learn the truth.”

“Let’s do it tonight,” she agreed as she picked her tools back up, knowing she needed a little time to steady herself and that Danny was currently resting. “I’m going to keep working on this for a bit.”

Chapter Text

Danny sat on the couch, his legs tucked up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees as he stared out the window. His parents called a family meeting after dinner to discuss what his Dad learned from a woman they used to know from college that researched liminals. Apparently, Danny was probably going to die young (haha, too late, he thought darkly) and it sounded like Vlad was going around murdering liminals.

Not that his parents said that last bit, exactly. They would never realize it was Vlad, not without his help, and he wasn’t about to point his finger at the man who thankfully still seemed oblivious to what he was. He didn’t really get why Vlad was doing it. Maybe he worried that if someone kept learning more about the ghosts and other liminals, then they might figure out what he was, too. Maybe he just hated knowing that there were others out there like him, or maybe . . . well, he could go in circles for hours trying to figure it out. The why didn’t matter to Danny much, and the likelihood that he could convincingly make a case for it being Vlad behind the murders was slim at best. The man was excellent at covering his tracks, and who knew how long it was since the last one was killed? Danny wasn’t too worried about becoming one of Vlad’s victims, either, even though he could tell his parents were scared about someone trying to hurt him. Despite Vlad’s experience, Danny definitely beat him when it came to sheer power, and he doubted the man would try to kill him as long as he still wanted to marry his Mom.

He knew he should react to what his parents were saying. Should be surprised, shocked, sad, or something, but Danny felt hollow. Empty. Everything was a mess now, ever since the sleepwalkers. He felt intensely hungry, but nothing he ate seemed to satisfy him anymore, and unlike before the fight he was pretty sure he knew why. The only moment he felt any satisfaction was after he consumed those dreams he stole from Nocturn. The urge to do it again made him sick, his obsession curling in on itself since he wasn’t supposed to consume but protect, but it didn’t stop him from wanting it, from some tiny part of his brain arguing that it was fine because they would be protected, within him, a monster powerful enough to keep such precious things safe . . .

“You okay, Danny?” asked Jazz, gently putting a hand on his back. 

“I guess.” No. He didn’t know how to be okay again. He thought after he changed back at Tucker’s that everything would go back to normal, that he would feel better, but he didn’t. And Tucker and Sam still hadn’t so much as called or texted. With school canceled all week, there was no opportunity to even try to talk to them in person. He saw the horror in Sam’s eyes, the discomfort in Tucker’s even as he could tell they were trying. He knew they told him that they wanted a few days, and yet the longer he went without hearing from them, the more he began to wonder if he pushed them too far. His mind drifted back to the weapons in the locker in the Ops Center, wondering again if that was his only real option, but he pushed the thought away. If nothing was left of him but a ghost, especially right now, then it would lead to nothing but pain for everyone else as he became exactly the kind of monster his parents feared.

His family shared a worried glance, clearly expecting a bigger response from him, but he didn’t have the energy. Eventually, maybe, he would get used to eating human food again, leaving the creepy dream eating to Nocturn, but for now the desire to eat something he should never, ever want still pulled. Hard. He hadn’t transformed into Phantom again since that day, either, too terrified the urge would only be stronger in his ghost form, or that his Hazmat suit might not come back this time. The damage from the fight with Skulker repaired itself so there was no reason to assume the suit wouldn’t come back, yet he found himself terrified it would be gone and that his monstrous self would be on full display for everyone to see.

“Danny?” said Mom.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, realizing she said something and he missed it. He couldn’t focus right now. He shouldn’t be trying to talk about this, about anything with them.

“We think we can modify the specter deflector to not shock you,” Mom said, looking worried he might break if she said the wrong thing. He shouldn’t have told her about his nightmares earlier. He was too tired to think straight. Too hungry. “So you could have more protection.”

“No.” She wasn’t asking, but he didn’t care. 

“It’s not optional, son,” said Dad. “We’re not going to let you put yourself at risk.”

“The ghosts that know me will know exactly what that is,” said Danny, “and they won’t react well. I’m more likely to get hurt if I wear it than if I don’t. And I don’t want to get shocked if you’re wrong and you can’t fix it.”

“Danny–” began Mom, but he couldn’t do this anymore. Danny stood up and walked out of the room, heading up the stairs before they could say another word. Distantly, he heard Jazz explaining that they dumped a lot on him, he probably just needed some space, that it was reasonable for him to be scared of being shocked after his accident, that he’d come around . . . 

He flopped onto his bed, shoving his pillow over his head as he desperately tried to shut it all out, but as he closed his eyes he heard Nocturn’s voice echoing in his mind. ‘Nothing but nightmares, no matter how deep I went. Have you no dreams, liminal child?’

Danny hadn’t given it much thought during the fight, too focused on dealing with the threat, on protecting his identity, which ultimately he screwed up anyway by telling Sam and Tucker the truth. And despite the horror Nocturn inflicted, nobody mentioned it half as often as the strange, ghostly wail he’d used to defeat him, a scream that echoed throughout the city and that was the only thing that could rouse the dreamers out of their slumber. 

A scream that sounded so much like the one that echoed within the walls of the portal as he died. 

There was a knock on his door frame but he ignored it. From the sound it was probably Jazz. His Mom rarely knocked, and his Dad’s fist sounded like lightning splitting the door frame no matter how gentle he tried to be. He hoped she would go away, but he heard her footsteps as she entered the room and then the weight on his bed as she sat down beside him. 

“I changed my mind about what I’m going to study in college,” she said suddenly, and it was odd enough that Danny peaked out at her from beneath his pillow.

“What?”

“Well, technically, I only kind of changed it. I’m still doing psychology, but I’m going to do a double major in ecto science since the field of ecto psychology doesn’t really exist yet. Kind of cool that I get to create it,” she said, leaning down so she could see him beneath the pillow. “I’m going to be at Amity Community College, too. At least until I go for my doctorate.”

“So you’ll be home?” he mumbled, and she nodded. “Great.” He pulled the pillow back down over his head, idly wondering if it would be possible for him to smother himself, but made no attempt to do so. He wouldn’t kill himself, even if his family seemed pretty convinced he was a step away from doing so. Not as long as there was any chance that he would leave nothing but a dream eating ghost behind. “Nice to know you have dreams.” 

“Well, it’s your fault,” she said, and he peeked out from the pillow again, curious despite himself, a tiny sense of satisfaction in his core at her words. “I’ve seen you a few times with the ghosts now, Danny, and you’re right. Mom and Dad’s method isn’t the only way. It’s probably not even the best one. And I want to help the ghosts, too. And you.”

A chill ran through him, and he pulled the pillow off his head completely as he sat up, wondering what she meant. What she knew. “What?”

“You’re good at what you do, Danny, but you can’t do it alone,” she explained, and he felt the relief wash over him. Oh. Of course. She didn’t know. Not about that. Tucker and Sam didn’t tell her. “There are too many ghosts. But they’re here to stay, I think, and although there are times when I hate this town, I love it, too. I hope–well, I know you’ve got a couple of years of school left, but maybe if my program works out, then maybe you could do it, too.”

“I don’t want to be a therapist, Jazz.”

“Then what do you want to be?” 

‘Have you no dreams, liminal child?’

What did he want? His mind was so full of nightmares now, his hope to join NASA and see space were gone. He threw himself into protecting Amity Park, into stopping the ghost attacks so much that it didn’t leave room for anything else, didn’t give him time to dwell on a future he couldn’t and wouldn’t have. Even if they chose to stick by him, Sam and Tucker would eventually go off to college, leaving him alone while he continued to deal with the ghosts. He would never be able to hold down a job, never be able to have a family or any real relationships as he found himself forced to forever keep part of himself a secret. And he couldn’t risk the ghosts finding out he and Phantom were one and the same. Sid took it well, but he doubted Ember or the Lunch Lady or any of the others would if they learned the truth about him. No doubt they’d feel manipulated and hurt, and Danny couldn’t really blame them since even though he’d grown to genuinely like and care for them, to see them as his friends, he knew it started as something less altruistic.

A tiny part of him suggested that it didn’t have to be this way. That he didn’t have to sacrifice everything, that Sam and Tucker could accept him and his family could, too. That he had managed to resist the pull of his obsession, that he could be more than he was now just as he believed the other ghosts could be, but he struggled to believe it given how awful he felt. And now he wanted to consume the dreams of others, too, something Danny realized then that he only started to crave in the last month or so after he finally gave up quite literally everything, including his own dreams and hopes for a better future. 

“Danny?”

“I don’t know what I want to be,” said Danny slowly as a dangerous plan occurred to him, but he had to take the risk. He couldn’t keep going. Not like this. “But there is something you could help me with.”

“Name it,” she said, no hesitation whatsoever, and he smiled. Hopefully neither of them would regret this.

“Can you get Dad and Mom out of the house with you for an hour?”

“Like right now?” He could see the uneasiness there, the concern about leaving him alone, and while he knew what she was thinking he would do, he doubted she would like his actual plan much better. 

“Yeah. Like say we got a call about a ghost attack or something? Or that maybe you figured out that the one thing that would cheer me up would be ice cream from Nikki’s Diner across town or something?”

“Would that cheer you up?” Danny gave a half-shrug, and Jazz tugged on her hair, shifting on the edge of the bed. “I can come up with something, Danny, but you have to tell me why.”

“I need to talk to Nocturn,” he said, “without anyone else here.”

“Oh, no, Danny, Phantom said he’s incredibly dangerous. Mom and Dad aren’t even sure the containment field downstairs will hold him if he escapes from the thermos based on the power readings they got from the Ops Center,” said Jazz. “It’s a bad idea, Danny. Even for you.”

“Please, Jazz.”

“I thought you wouldn’t go near the lab after your accident.”

“I lied. Obviously. Please?” he begged. “You said you would.”

“That was before I knew what you were asking for,” she said, watching him carefully. “Why do you want to do this?”

“I–I can’t explain it.” At least, not without his sister freaking out that her brother had turned into a dream eating monster. “But I need to do it. Please.”

He knew he had her when she stood up and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll do it. I can’t promise an hour, but I’ll get them out of the house for as long as I can. But please be careful, Danny.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, amazed she agreed, and he sat there in silence, hugging his knees while he waited. Eventually he heard the front door and the GAV start up, and his phone buzzed as Jazz sent a text.

‘We’re leaving now. Good luck. Please be careful.’

Jumping to his feet, he silently walked down to the lab, taking a minute to confirm that everyone was gone. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he took a moment to breathe as he felt the tug from the portal. It was always there, had been since he first came home after his accident, and while it grew easier to ignore when he was in the rest of the house, when he was this close the pull was much stronger. It wasn’t cruel or immobilizing, but instead felt like a parent calling to him to embrace him, to make him feel safe and whole and protected.

But while the Ghost Zone itself seemed to welcome him, most of the ghosts despised Phantom, and through the portal lay only misery.

Pushing it out of his mind, he lowered the containment field for a minute to grab the thermos. He stared at it for a few seconds, wondering if he was making a mistake, but he didn’t have a better option. He needed answers. He needed help, and with a deep breath, he put the containment field back up  and then inserted the thermos into the slot on the side. “Okay, here goes,” he whispered as he pushed the button to release Nocturn, and within seconds the ghost materialized in front of him. 

The ghost was much smaller, his power reduced thanks to Danny’s theft, and he stared at Danny coolly through the field. “Liminal child,” he said. “Release me.”

“I might be willing to do that,” said Danny as he grabbed a chair and sat down in front of him, “but you have to answer some questions for me first.”

“I am as old as humanity, liminal child,” he laughed. “Do you think that will work? I have no doubt you will insist I answer your questions and then leave me within that infernal device.”

“You clearly don’t know me as well as you think,” said Danny. “I’ve been told I don’t have a good self-preservation instinct. More than once, even. I’ll let you go if you help.”

“It is not about you, child, but your family. You fear putting them within my power again. I can sense that much, even in here,” said Nocturn. “I will not answer your questions.”

Danny pressed his thumb down into the mark on his palm, swallowing as he considered what he was doing, but he had no choice. He didn’t use ghost speech often. He told Sam and the others the truth, that using it was different than ordinary speech, that it required exposing a part of himself. The echoes and noise within it, the sounds, were echoes of his own death, of the pain and fear and loneliness and obsession that had been drummed into his core as the portal killed him. To use it was to be vulnerable, to show his whole self in a way that ordinary humans could never understand. He found that when he used ghost speech, he couldn’t lie. That his promises carried more weight. And as he spoke to Nocturn, his eyes glowed softly in the dim light of the lab, the words echoing and full of static and noise that sounded like the humming of electricity through high powered lines. “Please. Answer my questions and promise not to harm those within my haunt again, and I promise I will release you.”

“I will free myself, in time,” said Nocturn. “Your offer to free me is too small compared to what you are asking from me in return.”

“I’ll give you my true name, too,” he said, still using ghost speech. He winced internally. He had kept it secret for a long time. There was a danger in giving anyone his true name, particularly ghosts or liminals who could actually use it to harm him or summon him or bind him, but he was desperate. And this was something Nocturn couldn’t have. True names had to be freely given. They could not be stolen or perceived or taken, even in dreams. “In return for promising not to harm those within my haunt again and your release. Please. I–I don’t know what else to do. I have nothing else left and nothing else I can offer you.”

Nocturn stared at him, some mixture of pity and sympathy in his gaze, before he nodded, his tone gentler than before. “Very well. I agree to your terms, liminal child. Your name?”

He flushed a little from embarrassment as he spoke. “The liminal who creates and shatters the stars.” He didn’t entirely know what it meant. It felt like too much, too over the top, too heavy with expectations and something he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t know any other ghosts’ true name, though, having never earned the right to know, and he had nothing to compare it to. Maybe the true names of all ghosts were a little too heavy and a little strange.

Nocturn smiled thoughtfully, studying him for a moment before he finally asked, “What do you wish to know?”

“I took the dreams that you sto–harvested, I mean, from others,” he said as he switched out of ghost speech, “and since then I want more. That’s not something I ever wanted before, or at least I didn’t realize that I wanted it before, I guess? I don’t even know how I did it, honestly. I want to know how I did. Why I did it and feel like I still need to do it. Most of the ghosts I’ve met don’t need to eat dreams or anything like that. I don’t even know if they can do stuff like that.”

“There are dozens of species on Earth. Why must all ghosts be the same?” replied Nocturn. “I am a creation of myth and stories about the king of dreams. You are the creation of scientists who dared to dream that piercing our realm was possible. I am an Ancient, liminal child, older than Pariah Dark, and you–”

“Who?”

Nocturn stared at him, cocking his head to the side. “Do you know nothing of our history?”

“The other ghosts hate me,” said Danny as he shifted to sit cross-legged on the chair. “Well, at least ghost me. And they won’t talk about this stuff with me when I’m human. Most of the stuff I’ve learned is kind of intuitive, I guess, or things I’ve picked up by accident over time.”

“Child, you are never human, never a ghost,” said Nocturn. “Always both.”

“Right, okay, but–”

“--do you wish for answers?” Danny gritted his teeth and forced himself to nod. “Pariah Dark ruled the Ghost Zone for hundreds of years as a King in name but a tyrant in truth. He was eventually stopped by a group of seven ghosts that have come to be known as the Ancients.”

“Oh. So you’re really old and really powerful,” said Danny, wondering why the ghost didn’t simply say that originally. “I’m not. What’s your point?”

“There are many types of ghosts, many forms we may take, and many things we may need for sustenance, for survival,” said Nocturn. “I did not, originally, need to forcefully harvest the dreams of those who slept within this world to maintain my power. But myths and stories and dreams freely given, the things that empowered me once, have faded as most humans deny the very existence of the Infinite Realms and those they helped create.”

“And you, child, did not need to harvest these dreams until you had none,” said Nocturn. “As ghosts, we all seek to fill these voids, these holes within ourselves. The emptiness and hollowness and loss that comes with being what we are. Most can find it through the satisfaction of their obsession. Others, like myself, like Penelope Spectra, who devours potential and promise and hope? We cannot.”

“So I’m always going to do this, then?” Danny said as he dug his fingernails into his legs, barely resisting the urge to scream or cry. “Or can I just–is satisfying my obsession enough?” He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Shouldn’t have been so careless. But Danny didn’t know that something like this was possible, that he could be changed in this way. He worried, briefly, what it meant for the other ghosts he helped, but he realized he never asked them to go against their own obsessions, only to focus it differently. They would be okay. But him? To be reduced in such a way, to be forced to either eat dreams or constantly be pushed to fulfill his obsession to avoid it, it just–it didn’t seem fair. Not that the world ever seemed to care about what was fair when it came to him.

“The fulfillment of your obsession alone may no longer be sufficient” Danny’s head dropped as he swallowed. Satisfying his obsession would have been better than eating dreams, even if it bothered him since it no longer felt like he had a real choice about it. “But you are not necessarily doomed to this fate.” The ghost tilted his head, the shadows around him stretching, as if probing the containment field for a weakness. “All things can change, even ghosts, but for us true ghosts these changes are gradual. It is a river creating a canyon. For humans, change is constant. Their lives are endlessly shifting sand. And you, liminal child, are both. You are mountains turning to dust in an instant and over centuries.”

“So maybe I’m going to do this for like a week or maybe I’m going to do it for like a millenia?” groaned Danny, struggling to understand.

“You will do it as long as needed,” said Nocturn. “If you don’t want to steal the dreams of others, liminal child, then you must have your own.”

Because that was so easy, obviously. “What happened to harvesting, not stealing?”

“You, liminal child, are a thief. I am a farmer tending his crop,” said Nocturn, and Danny rolled his eyes as he remembered precisely how he ‘forcefully’ harvested dreams mere days ago.

“Great. So I’m pretty much doomed,” grumbled Danny as he hunched forward, head in his hands as he tried not to cry, and he took a deep, shuddering breath as he looked back up at Nocturn. “Listen, I know you obviously want your freedom and stuff, and I’ll still do that, but is there any way I can help you not be this way, too? Is there a way to make you not need to harvest dreams anymore, to not have this . . . this hole?” He touched his chest, feeling the hunger and the void and the emptiness there, even now, and he didn’t see a way to get rid of it. If he could find something he cared about enough, some sort of dream or hope for his future, then he would have already, but he just couldn’t see a way to do that, couldn’t hold onto his hopes long enough to let them grow into something. He had nothing. “I–This emptiness that I have, that you have, sucks. Everything is just worse, and I can’t imagine living with that for as long as you probably have. I don’t want to, and I–Is there anything I can do to help you with it, at least? Even if I’m stuck like this?”

“Let me return to consuming the dreams of those within Amity Park.” 

“Right, okay, that’s a non-starter and it doesn’t really work, does it?” said Danny. “I stole so much from you only a few days ago and that hollowness, that ache, it’s already back. It doesn’t fix it. If anything, it’s just worse now. It’ll never be enough.” He glanced at his palm for a minute, and then looked up at Nocturn. “I want to help you at least, even if I’m probably stuck this way. Please”

“It does not sustain you for as long as it should because the dreams I desire are not entirely the same as what you do. You would do better to devour their hopes, their goals, their ambitions for the future,” said Nocturn, and he shuddered as he considered what Nocturn said about what Spectra consumed and how uncomfortably close the two things were, the line between them so thin it felt like he could snap it between his fingers. “But if you truly do not desire to do so, then perhaps we might assist each other. You hold great power, as could your dreams. Allow me to help you dream again rather than resisting my power. If it succeeds, then I will harvest what I need from you and no more.”

“How could that possibly be enough?”

“The dreams of liminals are unlike those of ordinary humans,” said Nocturn simply. “Yours and the dreams of the other liminals were enough to satisfy me until you stopped dreaming.”

Danny went pale, the realization that he’d inadvertently done this to Nocturn somehow, that he may have been part of what pushed him to attack Amity Park, like a knife to the heart. While Nocturn still made the choice to do it, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, knowing how hard his own desire to consume dreams pulled at him. How long could he have resisted?. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. He touched his chest again as if he could feel the void there, the emptiness beneath his fingertips. “But that still won’t fix it, will it? If something happened to me or if I don’t–if I can’t–then you’ll still need to go right back to harvesting other peoples’ dreams again, won’t you?”

“You are mountains turning into dust in an instant and over centuries,” he repeated, and Danny groaned. “Which is to say, liminal child, that it may not be so simple. You can change things for us that we cannot ourselves, at a pace we could not imagine, and you have changed and shaped the world around you in ways that go far beyond your own understanding. There is a reason so many of the ghosts fear you even as others may find comfort in your existence. Your powers and my own share much in common, and your dreams will have a power that others do not. You are the liminal that creates and shatters the stars, are you not? Have you not borne witness to the changes you have brought forth in the other ghosts?”

Danny opened his mouth to argue but stopped. Nocturn was right - the other ghosts had changed during their time with him, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with being a liminal so much as just not being actively cruel to them when he could avoid it. He wasn’t convinced it was all because of him, but if this meant Nocturn might be able to help him, too, then it was worth a shot. He didn’t have a better option. “I’m not convinced that’s because of me,” he said, swallowing. “But if you think it might work, then I want to try it.” Jumping to his feet, he walked over to the containment field. He should have put Nocturn back in the thermos, sent him into the Ghost Zone properly, but Danny found himself making the choice to trust Nocturn and instead simply deactivated the containment field. 

The ghost approached him first, gently touching his forehead, and he felt a chill pass through him. It wasn’t unpleasant, though, and he was still standing afterward, not asleep or unconscious. “You shall have a dream tonight. Do not fight it or twist it, as you have done so much before, or it will not take root.”

“I don’t know if I can stop myself,” he admitted softly, his voice cracking.  

“You must, if you wish to help me have a future without forcefully harvesting the dreams from others, too.” The sentiment touched softly on his obsession, and Danny doubted that it was an accident. He suspected Nocturn knew him better than anyone besides himself, given his power. “So nurture it. Let it grow. And you may find that if you do, you will no longer desire to take that from others which you have sworn with your core to protect.”

“And then you’ll take it from me?”

“Only when it is not the only flower that grows in your garden,” he said, and Danny rolled his eyes as he hurried over to the portal. His finger pressed down on the genetic lock, a twinge of relief running through him as it still opened. Even if his parents eventually decided he wasn’t a Fenton anymore, at least something in the universe outside himself still believed it, and the tiny reinforcement helped. 

The moment Nocturn was gone, he felt his phone vibrate. His parents were just a few minutes away. Danny didn’t think it had been an hour, but at least he hopefully got what he needed, and closing the portal doors he hurried upstairs and back to his room, hoping that for once he might actually dream instead of being haunted by nothing but nightmares.

Chapter Text

Sam stood uncomfortably in the corner of Danny’s room, holding an old shoe box while he dug around under his bed. The alarm clock on his night stand said it was quarter past noon, which was fifteen minutes late. Tucker promised he would be here, too, and she dug her toe into Danny’s carpet, wondering if Tucker changed his mind. They spent most of the day yesterday at her house talking it over, trying to figure out some basic ground rules for when they finally talked to Danny again. Both of them agreed that they needed to keep pushing Danny to answer their questions and to be honest with them, knowing how much it was hurting not just them but him, too. They both agreed they needed to try not to judge him, to support him as best they could, and that if they did have issues with something he was doing, then they needed to talk to each other first and decide if it was really a problem before putting more pressure on Danny. It sounded so easy yesterday. 

But as much as Sam knew what she needed to do to be there for Danny, that Tucker was right that he was their friend and that they needed to try to support him and accept him, Sam really, really hoped she didn’t have to see his ghost form beneath the Hazmat suit again. 

She shouldn’t be so unsettled by it. She always advocated for looking beneath the surface, pushing to save animals and creatures that other people ignored because they weren’t as cute looking as baby tigers, and Sam hated how much people judged her for her own appearance. But this . . . it wasn’t just surface level. Being in a room with Danny when he was like that felt like a threat, like drinking something sweet only to learn it was poison, even if Tucker seemed oblivious to it. But that didn’t mean Tucker was wrong. She needed to get through this, to get over it, for Danny’s sake.

“Got one!” said Danny triumphantly, and crawling back out he held out a small, green blob with eyes and a tiny little mouth that revealed a very small set of fangs when it yawned.

“Okay, how is that cute? Because it’s cute, right?” she said, smiling despite herself, and he grinned as he dropped it in the shoe box. 

“Mostly. They used to come around all the time,” he said as he started opening the drawers of his end tables, and Sam tried to ignore the drawer full of first aid supplies that looked depressingly well-used. She had no clue how injured he got as Phantom, never really giving it much thought, and she realized that lately things with Danny were somehow always worse than she suspected. She didn’t want this hole to keep going deeper, to keep getting darker, but it seemed like that was unavoidable. “Like right after my accident, I kept finding them snuggling up to me in bed. I think they sensed my core, somehow. But I was super worried my parents would find them, so I tried to get them to stay away.”

“Apparently not for long,” said Sam as he pulled another one out and dropped it in the shoe box. 

“It’s actually been months since I last saw one in my room,” he said, pausing in his search for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s because they know my parents are being less hostile to the ghosts now, though. Or maybe it’s my fault. I think they can sense stuff, and I haven’t been in a good spot for a while.”

“And now you are?”

“I’ve taken a small step,” he said, not offering any more explanations as he started rummaging through his desk and flipped over some books. “C’mon, I know there’s one more.”

“Hey, guys, what’s–what’s that?” asked Tucker as he walked in, and he blinked at the box in her hands. “Are those ghosts?”

“Yeah,” said Danny as he pulled one more out of a spot underneath his desk lamp that Sam would swear was too small for it to have possibly hidden inside of. “They’re different from the kind of ghosts you’re used to, though, since these are born in the ghost zone. Sometimes they eventually become something else, sometimes they don’t. I don’t know much about how it works.” He shrugged as he dropped it in the shoe box alongside the others, and Sam stared at them for a bit as they eased themselves into the corners of the box. She never heard of ghosts being anything but imprints of the deceased thanks to how the Fentons described at the ghost safety assemblies at school, but she was increasingly realizing that what the Fentons didn’t know about ghosts could fill a whole book, if not an entire library.

“Why not use a thermos?” asked Tucker.

“They can’t be held by it,” said Danny. “I don’t know why. But they’re kind of like cats in that they’ll usually stay in a box. I can run them down to the portal, though, just give me a second.” Taking the box from Sam, she stared at him as whispered something to the blobs on his way out, a faint hint of static and ice and something else running under the words. Ghost speech. She shuddered, rubbing her arms as he went downstairs. 

“He seems weirdly chipper,” said Tucker after a minute, clearly surprised. “You already talk to him?”

“No. We were waiting for you and then his ghost sense went off, and then he started pulling those blob ghosts out from under his bed,” said Sam. “But I noticed it, too. He still seems like he’s in a bad spot, but . . . something’s changed, I think, too. Maybe it’s just knowing that we’re here and not completely freaking out.”

“So you’re not freaking out anymore?” 

“Oh, no, I am, but it’s a kind of background noise now,” she admitted as she sat down at Danny’s desk while Tucker took a spot on the floor by his closet. She did not mention that she was now taking medication and seeing a therapist for her anxiety, still, and had been since encountering Ember in Danny’s back yard when she realized that as long as she was going to be friends with Danny, there would be no avoiding interacting with ghosts. It wasn’t that Tucker or even Danny would judge her for it, but . . . She wasn’t ready to tell them. Not yet. The medication was the only reason she didn’t have a full-blown panic attack in Tucker’s room the other day. “You?”

“About the same. I’m just worried about him.” Tucker pulled out his phone, scrolling through TikTok for a minute while they waited for Danny to get back. Sam sighed as she looked up at the ceiling. Even during the day, Danny’s star stickers seemed to faintly glow, although it might be her imagination. His room was cold, as always, but she anticipated that and wore tights beneath her skirt and an extra sweater layered over her tank top. On his desk were a few assignments and a couple of old pictures of the three of them. One of them she recognized from Floody Waters the summer before freshman year, maybe two weeks before Danny’s accident, and he was smiling in a way she hadn’t seen since then. 

All of them were. It felt cliche to say it, but things really were so much simpler back then. 

“Hey,” said Danny as he walked back in with a bowl of cereal and sat on his bed, legs crossed as Tucker put his phone away. “So . . .?”

He let it hang as Sam shared a look with Tucker, neither one really wanting to jump into this even as the conversation had to happen. Sam ran her fingers through her hair as she spun around in the chair to face them. “Missed breakfast?” Tucker rolled his eyes at her, and she gave him a tiny, defensive shrug. It wasn’t as if Tucker was willing to jump right in and talk about everything, either.

“I’ve been having trouble eating for a while now, and it’s been worse these last few days,” he said softly, stirring the cereal around with a spoon. Sam and Tucker both noticed it, of course, but hearing Danny admit it was different. “My Mom insisted.” He took a bite, wincing slightly as he forced it down. “She might ambush both of you to make sure I didn’t just throw it in the trash. I’m sor–”

“--don’t start apologizing already or we’ll be here forever,” interrupted Tucker. “And honestly, the more I think about it, the more I think we owe you another apology for not noticing, well, everything, I guess? I mean, are you okay?”

“I will be, I think,” he said as he stared at it for a second before forcing down another bite and then put the bowl down on his night stand. “Ughh. This sucks.”

“If you don’t want cereal, we could go to the Nasty Burger for lunch,” offered Tucker. The door to the room was open, a set rule in the Fenton household that made Sam nuts, so she knew they couldn’t have a totally open, honest conversation here. Danny being grounded would make most of this talk impossible. They planned to drag him out of the house to the Nasty Burger anyway, and then go to the park afterward to one of the quieter spots for some privacy. “They’ve got the power back and it’s been a week since I last got their Double Nasty Burger.”

“I can’t go. I’m grounded. I barely managed to convince my parents to let you two come over,” he said. “But thanks.”

“Y’know, not wanting to eat can be a sign of being depressed or that you’re sick,” said Sam carefully as she tugged at the edge of her skirt, worried she might be crossing a line by naming the problem, but Danny didn’t deny it or look upset that she brought it up. 

“I know.” He stared at the bowl for a moment, biting his lip, before he forced himself to pick it up again with a sigh. “And being depressed is part of it, but it’s also a ghost thing.”

She and Tucker shared a look, torn between asking him for details about it and desperately not wanting to know anything else that might give either of them nightmares for weeks on end about Danny. “Why did you get grounded?” asked Tucker eventually, dropping the subject for now as Danny forced another bite down. “I thought your parents were being friendlier about stuff because they understood what you were doing with the ghosts.”

“They understood it until I had Jazz trick them into leaving the house last night so I could talk to Nocturn alone in the lab,” he said, stirring the cereal around. “And they might have forgiven that part except that I also let him go.”

Sam shivered, rubbing her arms. She couldn’t remember the specifics of her dream the night of the sleepwalker attack, but the pleasant sensation lingered long after, the sense of a wonderful life, of acceptance, of hope, just beyond her grasp. But that awful scream–Danny’s scream, she reminded herself–smashed it as surely as a knife in the chest. 

Sam didn’t want to spend an eternity in a pleasant dream, oblivious to the world around her, but it was the most content she felt in months. And the damage to Amity Park while she and the others slept was extensive. Her home was fine, of course, and they would be back at school again tomorrow. Back to facing tests and essays and their awful classmates and the ghost attacks, instead of the pleasant world of her dreams that could never, ever be.

“Aren’t you the one that said Nocturn was too dangerous to release?” said Tucker. “Like, so dangerous that you literally had a breakdown in my room over it?”

“Yeah, well, you get why I’m grounded now,” he said as he ate another spoonful. 

“Did he trick you?” asked Sam, crossing her legs so she could lean a bit more easily on the left arm rest. 

“No.” Sam gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t he just explain it? Why did everything have to be forcefully dragged out from him like this? 

Tucker, too, seemed irritated as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why let him go?”

“Because I needed his help.” He prodded at a piece of cereal in his bowl before putting it on his night stand again, and then rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I’m not exactly doing super great at the moment,” he said bitterly, “and he was the only one who could help me. That’s it. We managed to make a deal, though, and he won’t hurt anyone that way again. At least not while I’m around.”

“Danny,” began Sam, glancing at Tucker, and he gave her a small nod. “This right here? That’s kind of what we’re talking about when we say that we’re upset with you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re pretty good at not answering questions,” said Sam, “even when all we want to do is try to understand or help you. We know you’re not doing okay. We’ve known it for ages - it’s literally part of the reason why we thought you were possessed or something. And you seem to think that if you continue to keep me and Tucker and everyone else at arm’s length it’ll get better somehow, even though it should be super fucking obvious at this point that all it’s ever done is make things worse.”

“And we get why you’re not telling your parents everything, and even why you felt like you needed to hide it from us, too,” said Tucker, dropping his voice so low Sam almost couldn’t hear him, but neither of them wanted the Fentons to hear this conversation. “Seriously. But it’s clear this is only hurting you, and we’re your friends. So please, Danny. Talk to us.”

Danny stared at his hands, his finger tracing the outline of the death mark on his palm. Sam watched him closely as he swallowed, then, and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s hard to talk about it. It’s not just–Some of it is that I’ve been focused on keeping this a secret for a long, long time, and it’s hard to let that go with anyone. But some of it–it scares me. And I saw the way you both looked at me when I showed up in your room, Tucker, and I get it. I do. Nobody could accept that, accept me, that way.” He paused as he bit his lip, and Sam could see him trembling. “But it’s just–it’s worse. Worse than you know, worse than you think, and if you already feel like I’m some kind of monster now, then I don’t–” He broke off, shaking his head as he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. 

“You’re not a monster, Danny,” said Tucker gently, and Sam was glad he could say it with such conviction even as she hated that she couldn’t. Why didn’t it bother him? Tucker was right that dark and creepy was supposed to be her thing, not his, and yet there was a visceral horror she felt when she gazed upon Danny in that moment back in Tucker’s room. It took everything in her to sit down next to him that night, to hold his hand and talk to him until he found whatever he needed to be human again. 

Danny raised his head, and Sam swore she could see a faint, greenish glow within his normally blue eyes. “Would you say that if you knew the reason I’m unable to eat right now is because all I want to do is eat people’s dreams the way Nocturn did? Like the way Spectra does?”

Her blood ran cold. “What?”

“That’s my problem, okay? In that fight with him, I didn’t mean to do it, but I took the dreams he stole and I–” He stopped, shaking his head. “I’d never done anything like that before. It’s why I risked talking to Nocturn, and why I helped him. I don’t want to hurt people. I never have. But if I give into that urge, that hunger, then I–you can say all you want, Tucker, that I’m not a monster, but it’s not true.”

“No, Danny, it is,” he argued without hesitation. “Okay, so, you want to eat dreams and that’s not great because you could end up hurting someone. But you haven’t done it since that fight, when it sounds like you didn’t even realize what it was you were doing. You’ve been fighting hard not to everyday since then. That’s not something monsters do.”

“Tucker’s right,” said Sam. “What matters is that you’re trying, Danny. And if there’s anything we can do to help, just tell us. We’ll help. We want to be there for you, okay?”

He looked at the two of them, staring in awe, before giving a small nod. “Okay. Thanks. I’m not sure there’s anything you can do besides just willing to be here and be with me. But I’ll try to let you know if there’s something else, too.”

“What did Nocturn agree to do for you?” asked Tucker.

“Ghosts that have my problem usually experience it because they’re trying to replace something that’s missing,” he said as he gently touched his chest with one hand. “There’s like an ache, a hollow spot, that hurts all the time but if you asked me a few weeks ago, I couldn’t have told you why. My obsession isn’t exactly protection, like a lot of people think. It’s protecting people’s dreams, their futures, their hopes . . . The stuff I felt like I lost when I had my accident. It’s why Nocturn got under my skin so badly. Stealing something like that, from the people I cared about, I just–I couldn’t handle it. I completely flipped, and then at first I just wanted to take them back, to try to figure out a way to give the dreams and everything back, but that’s not–it doesn’t work that way, I guess.”

“But Nocturn can give people dreams,” said Danny. “So that’s what he’s doing for me. Just reshaping my worst fears and nightmares and injecting hope, and hopefully filling that void. I don’t know if it’ll work. But I also don’t know what else to try.”

Danny picked up the bowl of cereal again, stirring it around with a forlorn expression, as Sam took a deep breath. “Okay, that’s it.” Standing up, she grabbed the cereal from him and wrinkled her nose when she saw it. “Ughhh, raisin bran? Seriously? No wonder you don’t want to eat.”

“Sam–”

“--I’m getting you ungrounded,” she said, “or at least ungrounded long enough for a trip to the Nasty Burger. I get it might not be as good as usual, but anything would be better than this.” Before Danny could argue, she walked out of the room, the mostly full bowl of cereal in hand as she headed down the stairs. She could feel herself shaking slightly, Danny’s confession still lingering, and she swallowed uncomfortably as she walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Fenton sat at the table with her laptop, and when she saw the mostly full bowl in Sam’s hands her face fell.

“He wouldn’t eat it?” she sighed. 

“Nope, and neither would I,” said Sam as she dumped it out and placed the bowl next to the sink. “Cereal was gross before I became a vegan, Mrs. Fenton. At least get him some with marshmallows in it if that’s what you’re going to insist on feeding him.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said with a bemused smile. “But he’s not eating much lately. If he could tell me something he would like, I’d happily make it for him right now, but he doesn’t seem to want anything.”

“I know, which is why I was going to ask if Tucker and I can bring him to the Nasty Burger with us,” she said as she leaned back against the counter. “And, look, I know he’s supposed to be grounded right now, but he still seems super depressed. I think spending time with Tucker and me is helping him, and I think if we could go out to eat, get some sunshine, it might help him more, too. He also promised he’d eat an entire double cheeseburger as long as it has no pickles on it. Please, Mrs. Fenton?”

“Punishments aren’t very effective if I start granting exceptions, you know,” she said, but Sam could tell she had her when she smiled sadly. “But they’ve never been effective with Danny since this all started, so I doubt one trip will hurt. Just make sure he’s home for dinner since his Uncle Vlad will be here.”

“Who?” She tried to remember Danny mentioning an uncle before, any uncle, but her mind came up blank. She thought he only had an Aunt - Alyssa or Alicia or something?

“Vlad Masters,” said Maddie, and Sam barely avoided scowling. She met Vlad Masters a few times at her parents’ parties and usually made an effort to avoid him. He gave off some seriously unpleasant vibes that were worse than some of the ghosts. “He’s not technically Danny’s uncle, but we used to go to school with him and we’ve gotten close again since our college reunion last year. He donated money to the disaster relief efforts from the recent ghost attack and wants to be here to help however he can.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll let Danny know. Thanks, Mrs. Fenton!” she said quickly as she hurried back up the stairs. Danny looked up at her, raising an eyebrow at her as she entered and gave an overly dramatic bow. “I, of course, am the master of parental manipulation. We can go to the Nasty Burger and head out for a bit. Your Mom just wants you home in time for dinner because your Uncle, who is apparently Vlad Masters, is going to be here tonight.”

The brief joy she saw in his expression vanished in an instant as Tucker gaped at Danny. “Wait, the most famous and probably most brilliant tech billionaire of the century is your uncle? Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?! I’d kill for a chance to like, even shake his hand for a minute.”

“He’s not actually my uncle. He was a friend of my parents’ back in college. My Dad likes him a lot and thinks of him like a brother, so hence ‘Uncle Vlad,’” he said sourly as he got to his feet. 

“You seem as impressed with him as I am,” said Sam as they grabbed their things and headed downstairs. Danny didn’t say another word about it while they were in the house, though, instead giving a quick thanks and goodbye hug to his Mom before following them outside. 

Sam stripped off her sweater the second they were out the door and tied it around her waist. Danny’s room might be an ice box, but outside it was a pleasantly warm day, and even as he fell into step between her and Tucker, the cold that clung to the air around Danny didn’t seem to be seeping into her half as much as usual. 

“So what’s wrong with him?” asked Tucker.

“He’s a billionaire?” said Sam instantly, and she saw Tucker roll his eyes. “What? I’ve met most of them, Tucker, and know first hand just how much they all pretty much suck. Either they inherited their money from people who exploited and hurt others, or they made their money exploiting and hurting others. There’s not a lot of gray areas. Even my family’s money all comes from owning factories where they worked people to death a century ago. My parents didn’t do that, but they’re happy to continue to invest the money in other companies that do exploit people and let it grow to obscene amounts while they pursue their pet projects and other people starve. Personally, I can’t wait to give it all away someday.”

“I mean, I can confirm he’s definitely done some awful stuff to make his money, but it’s way worse than you think,” said Danny. “He also wants to kill my Dad and marry my Mom. And I’m pretty sure he’s murdered like at least a dozen liminals like me after talking to my parents last night.”

Sam and Tucker both stopped, glancing at each other in horror as Danny walked a few more steps before he turned to look at them. “What?” he asked as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You can’t just drop all of that at once!” said Sam.

“Like, seriously, dude,” complained Tucker. “I–just–seriously?!”

“You’re literally the ones that complained about me being too vague less than twenty minutes ago,” he grumbled as they started walking beside him again. “I thought I’d try to get to the point this time.” 

“Okay, but like, details, maybe?” 

“Fine. But you can’t say a word, and if you see him, please don’t let on that you know, okay?” he sighed. “About me or him or any of it.”

“Obviously,” said Sam and Tucker at the same time, and she gave Tucker a quick fist bump behind Danny’s back. 

“My Dad and Mom have been trying to create a portal to the Ghost Zone since college,” he explained. “Vlad originally worked on it with them. They managed to create a prototype, and when they turned it on, Vlad got hit by the energy from the portal. My parents said he ended up in the hospital for a while with a serious case of ecto contamination. Sound familiar?”

“So he’s like you? A liminal?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. The amount of energy he got exposed to was way less than what I was hit with, so I don’t think he’s as powerful as I am or that he has the same range of abilities I have, either,” said Danny. “But he does have twenty years of experience and a ton of patience, and he blames my Dad for his accident. My Mom, well, he sees her as innocent. She’s never been interested in him, at least as far as I can tell, but he’s obsessed with her. Thinks she’s the one who got away and that if my Dad were out of the picture, she’d realize what she’s missing out on.”

“Ew,” said Sam.

“Yikes,” said Tucker at the same time. 

“It’s both, really,” said Danny with a half-smile, but it quickly faded. “Anyway, he had this plan at the reunion to try to get my Dad. I managed to stop it, he didn’t realize I was involved, and as far as I know he hasn’t worked out that I’m the same as him. But now that my parents know I’m a liminal, there’s a chance they realized that he’s one, too, and they might have reached out to him for advice about me. And I doubt they would keep my identity a secret from him, since as far as they know he’s just this really cool tech billionaire and philanthropist. I don’t know what he’ll do if he figures out the truth, since I think if he’s got that much, he’ll probably be able to put together that I’m Phantom, too.”

“What do you think he’ll do to you?” asked Sam.

“I don’t know. My parents mentioned that researcher, Alyce, was apparently threatened by someone super powerful until she agreed to stop her looking into liminals,” said Danny, “but that she didn’t know who that person was, just that they were capable of like getting her grant funding pulled and getting her kicked out of her apartment and stuff. And a bunch of the liminals she’s spoken to over the years are now dead.”

“And you think that was Vlad?”

“I know it was. She mentioned seeing the Wisconsin Ghost to my parents, and that’s Vlad,” said Danny. “I don’t think there are any other liminals who can change form like we do, but I’ve seen him transform before. He calls himself Plasmius. Skulker works for him sometimes, too, and the researcher mentioned seeing him as well. And I’m not surprised he threatened her, since he’s really careful about his secret, too, and there was a chance that she might figure it out if she had enough information. But what I don’t get is why he went after the other liminals.”

“Maybe he was worried they could also sense him, figure out what he was,” suggested Sam. “You can sense ghosts, after all. It’s not crazy that a liminal might be able to sense other liminals or something.” She tried not to think about how she picked up on something from Vlad, either, or what that might mean for her. That she might be a little liminal, too, although she never had a near death experience the way Danny did. Still, there was no way she could let anyone else know that she could sense something around the ghosts again, even if she didn’t quite understand it herself, now that she knew it might make her a target by people like Vlad.

“Yikes, Danny,” said Tucker, rubbing his arms. “You should tell your parents, especially if he might try to kill you or hurt them.”

“I don’t think he’ll kill me. He’s too obsessed with my Mom, and if he killed me, there’d be no hope of that ever happening. Besides, if I tell them about Vlad, they’ll figure out the rest about me, too,” said Danny. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“You don’t know that he won’t hurt you, and it sounds like he’s already trying to kill your Dad or something. You should tell them something, Danny,” said Sam as she kicked a rock a little too hard and it skittered into the street.

“I’ll keep them safe, and seriously, I’ll be fine,” he said, and she groaned. “I promise.”

“Promises still don’t mean much from you these days, Danny Fenton,” said Sam coolly. “You promised a whole bunch of things for two years that didn’t come to pass.”

Danny bit his lower lip, considering, and when he spoke she couldn’t understand a word he said. His words had an echo and whisper behind them, a feeling of an autumn breeze despite the clear spring day. “Was that ghost speech?”

“Way less awful than last time,” muttered Tucker, rubbing his arms. “What did you say, anyway?”

“I promised you, in the language of the dead and on my true name, that I won’t keep my secret at the cost of my parents or me or anyone else being hurt by Vlad,” he said with a shrug. “It carries more weight than a normal promise. It’s, um . . . the best I can do. I realize it might not be enough still.”

“What’s your true name? Is it just like your regular name or is it Phantom or what?” asked Tucker, and Danny flushed a brilliant red. Huh.

“Nope. I’m not telling you. It’s super over the top and embarrassing, and there’s all kinds of bad things that can happen if someone who shouldn’t know it gets their hands on it.”

“Maybe, but you promised no more secrets, and without knowing what it translates to in plain old English I feel like I can’t buy it,” said Sam, gently teasing. 

“Fine, let me try. It’s hard to not say it in ghost speech, even when I want to, and you can’t tell anyone, okay?” he said as he looked around to make sure they were alone, and then she heard that strange sound of a static and an echo, the feeling of the first winter chill on a brilliant sunny day, as he shook his head a few times before he finally managed to say it. “It’s the liminal that creates and shatters the stars. ”

“Yikes, that’s a mouthful,” said Tucker, and then he clapped him on the back. “Hey, wait, does this mean I could summon you now and you couldn’t say no? Can I give you orders to clean my room or something if I do?”

“Your room is like a thousand times cleaner than mine, Tucker,” said Danny, which wasn’t a no, exactly. “Unless you want to never find your socks again, I wouldn’t try it, and besides, neither of you are liminals.”

“Fine, fine,” he chuckled, and although Sam couldn’t say things were right just yet, this felt better. At least he was talking to them now and being honest. “But I wasn’t really planning on trying it.”

“Good, because the last time you summoned me I completely wrecked my insides trying to escape,” said Danny, shuddering as he touched a hand to his stomach, and Sam flinched at the confession. She didn’t realize he’d been hurt because of them. After learning he wasn’t possessed, she assumed it was some kind of act. “I don’t recommend becoming even a little tangible again while hiding inside tons of dirt and rocks.”

“Wait, seriously?” said Tucker. “I’m so sorry, Danny.”

“It was the only way to get out of the circle, or at least, the only one I could think of,” he said with a shrug. “It’s fine. I heal fast.”

“You ever get hurt really badly?” asked Sam. “I saw the first aid supplies.”

“I . . . yeah. A few times. When I’m in the Hazmat suit, I have a lot of resistance to some ghost attacks, but a strong enough ecto blast and stuff can penetrate and I can still get hurt,” said Danny. “It’s hard to say what the worst one I’ve gotten in a fight is and I’ve only needed stitches a few times, but that’s mostly because nothing really compares to my accident.”

They fell silent, then, as they walked the rest of the way to the Nasty Burger, both her and Tucker taking everything in. There was more. She knew there would be, that there probably always would be. They had missed so much of what was happening with Danny, and so much of who he was remained a mystery to them. But she felt a tiny spark of hope that maybe they would figure it out, because as much as he had definitely changed, there was so much about him that was still so very Danny, and maybe she would eventually be able to accept him. All of him. 

At the very least, she had to try.

Chapter Text

Maddie forced herself to wear her most polite, neutral expression as Vlad endlessly carried on throughout dinner. The man had done some incredible things, no doubt, but he was an absolute bore and exhausting to listen to at times. She knew he still had feelings for her, even more than twenty years later, and Maddie generally found herself willing to overlook it as long as he continued not to act on it. Still, if not for Jack’s fondness for him, Maddie doubted she would have tried to rekindle their old friendship. 

Despite Sam’s promise that Danny would be home in time for dinner, his plate remained untouched, a painfully empty spot at the table. She didn’t know why she was so surprised or hurt. Knowing that Danny wasn’t possessed and was inclined to seek out the ghosts against their better judgment, Maddie couldn’t be too shocked as he reverted to his old habits once more, but it still stung since he had been doing a little better with it until now and usually at least sent a quick text to let her know he might be out late after getting sidetracked.

“Shame about young Daniel,” said Vlad as she took a bite. “How has he been these last few weeks? I understood you were quite concerned about his academic performance when we last spoke and mentioned he was being considered for an Individualized Education Program.” 

“We’re still going through the process. It’s taking longer than we thought because of the ghost attacks,” said Maddie. “Especially the most recent one. But we’re hopeful that he’ll be approved.”

“Oh, Vladdie, I wanted to ask,” said Jack as ate a forkful of mashed potatoes, “did you ever have any weird side effects after the accident in college? Aside from the ecto-acne?”

Maddie felt her stomach flip, knowing that Vlad hated discussing his proto-portal accident. The symptoms that Danny exhibited weren’t evident in Vlad - he had no abnormally cold temperature, no obvious other health concerns, and she never heard him speak about anything odd or ghostly occurring around him–but still, it might be worth asking regardless. Vlad was a very private person, even with them, so he might be better at hiding it, or maybe his symptoms weren’t as severe as Danny’s own. 

Vlad’s hands clenched his knife tightly, his knuckles white. “Why do you ask?” Not surprisingly, his voice was strained but polite, clearly wanting to change the subject. She knew he held onto his resentment over the accident for a long time, only finding it in himself to begin to forgive Jack at their reunion last year, and she worried now that Jack  might have pushed him a little too far by asking about it at all. 

“Dad,” hissed Jazz. “Are you sure Danny would be okay with this?”

“Of course, it’s Vladdie,” he said, but Maddie worried Jazz might be right. Danny strongly disliked Vlad, although he was never overly forthcoming about the reasons and usually just muttered about the man being a creep when asked. “Our son, Danny, had some side effects from his own accident with our portal. We were wondering if you might have anything in common.”

She saw Vlad’s hands freeze for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction before he resumed cutting his steak. “Oh? I would love to be able to help Daniel. What sort of side effects?”

“Well, we’ve always known about some. He’s got a reduced body temperature, low heart rate, and a few other things that impact his health because he suffered from a fair bit of ectoplasmic contamination,” said Jack. “But we’ve recently learned that he’s a liminal, too. He can sense when ghosts are nearby, and he’s been able to connect with some of the ones that haunt Amity Park.”

“Well, I can’t sense ghosts, Jack,” chuckled Vlad as Maddie watched his reaction closely, but the man’s face was a careful mask as always. “Perhaps the ghosts have an affinity for me as well, though. The spirit of the Dairy King haunts my mansion and we manage to get along quite nicely. Are there any other side effects?”

“Not sure. We reached out to an old colleague who was doing research on them for a bit. We were hoping she could tell us more since we read that a few can do other things like sense portals or even speak the language of the dead,” said Jack, “but she wasn’t willing to discuss it with us.”

Maddie resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected Jack to lie to Vlad about anything given how much he trusted the man, but then again, she knew her husband took Alyce’s safety concerns seriously and he might have wanted to avoid having Vlad potentially reach out to her, too. She wished he would have talked to her about how to discuss Danny’s situation with Vlad with her first, though. Jazz wasn’t wrong - Danny would be upset to learn the man knew, and Maddie felt uneasy discussing it with Vlad, though she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. But they were supposed to be keeping it a secret given the risks, and they had promised Danny they would keep quiet about it, too. 

“What a shame,” said Vlad, and then he frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Ah, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve received a message that the mayor would like to meet with me this evening instead. It seems something came up in the morning and he won’t have time to meet later this week. Perhaps we can chat about this more at another time? I would love to help Daniel however I can.”

“Of course, Vlad. Feel free to reach out when you have time,” offered Maddie, and he gave her his usual smile, a look that always felt too full of teeth for her liking. 

“Of course,” he said. “Have a wonderful evening, Jack. Jasmine.”

“Bye, Uncle Vlad,” said Jazz, and the moment he was gone Maddie felt as if she could breathe again as Jazz glared at her father. “I really don’t think Danny will be happy you talked to Uncle Vlad. I know you like him and he’s your friend, but Danny seems like he’s struggling with even telling us, let alone having other people know the truth, too. And both of you agreed it was too dangerous to let too many people know the truth since we still don’t know why that ghost is targeting liminals.”

“I know Jazz, but I trust Vlad,” said Jack. “And I want to do whatever I can to help Danny. If Vlad is a liminal like Danny, then that would mean he’s lived longer than most and maybe he could help us figure out a way to make sure that Danny does, too.”

Maddie pursed her lips. She hadn’t considered that, of course, but Jack had a point. Vlad was in his mid-40s currently, which was well beyond the typical lifespan of most of the liminals from Alyce’s research. He definitely reacted to the news about Danny, too. She wouldn’t be surprised if Vlad could be one, but kept it a close secret. Most of the world was skeptical of the existence of the paranormal, despite the clear evidence that existed in Amity Park, and it could reflect poorly on him if discovered. He certainly had more at stake than most people did, given his social and economic status. Still, they didn’t know for sure, and there may have been a way to find out without potentially risking Danny first. 

“We still should’ve talked to Danny first,” sighed Jazz as she pushed around her potatoes, a close mirror of her own thoughts.

“I’ll let him know when he gets home,” said Jack, and he frowned as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“Sam promised they would get him home in time for dinner tonight,” Maddie confirmed. “Especially since he’s technically grounded right now. I already sent him a text, but he hasn’t responded yet.”

“We’ll have to have another talk with him tonight,” said Jack, and they finished the rest of the meal in relative silence. Danny still wasn’t back by the time she finished up the dishes, either, and little by little Maddie felt her uneasiness growing as she sat down beside Jazz to watch TV. 

“Anything?” asked Jazz and Maddie shook her head. “Tucker said they split up after the Nasty Burger and Danny should have been on his way home hours ago. He offered to try to call him, too.”

“Thanks, hon,” she said. “Do you know where your father is?”

“He’s in the Ops Center,” said Jazz. “I guess he’s running some system checks.”

“Okay. Let me know if you hear anything?” 

“Of course, Mom.”

Maddie shouldn’t be so worried. Danny used to do this constantly, and he always returned home eventually. But knowing the truth now about what he was doing and knowing how hopelessly naive he could be, she found herself twisting her fingers, her foot bouncing restlessly as she kept half an eye on the door. After all, despite his insistence that he knew the ghosts better than her and Jack, he still let Nocturn go, a move that even Phantom believed to be too risky. Amity Park hadn’t even finished rebuilding from the damage caused by the sleepwalker attack yet, but when pushed to explain himself, Danny simply said that Nocturn agreed not to return. 

It was a level of blind trust she would expect from a child, not a nearly sixteen-year-old boy, and it made her incredibly concerned about his judgment. 

She made it about fifteen minutes before she went back into the kitchen in search of something, anything that could distract her. She tried to call Danny, but his phone rang for a few minutes before going to voicemail. “Danny, it’s Mom. It’s just after eight. Please give us a call and at least let us know if you’re okay.”

Maddie hung up the phone and ran downstairs into the lab. She grabbed her laptop and a few notebooks from a project she was working on for a bit before going back upstairs to sit at the kitchen table in case Danny returned. 

Recently, she started work on some modifications to the Specter Speeder after she and Jack gave up trying to fix the problems with the severe power drain when using the Ecto Skeleton. She and Jack built the vehicle to explore the Ghost Zone. So far they hadn’t used it yet since the probes they sent into the Ghost Zone to try to map it failed to do so, and the data they retrieved was filled with garbled nonsense. The environment seemed to fluctuate constantly. She hoped that they could potentially modify the probes somehow to use their portal or something else as a fixed point, but as she stared at what little data they managed to collect over the last year it seemed like a futile task. 

Idly, she wondered if Danny might be able to get Phantom to discuss the Ghost Zone with them or even lead them through it. She knew Phantom didn’t have the best relationship with the other ghosts, but he clearly spent a fair bit of time within the Ghost Zone, and she suspected the ghosts had an intuitive knowledge of the dimension that allowed them to navigate it. 

Biting her lip as she glanced at the clock, she pulled up a different set of data points. Phantom’s energy levels recently started to fluctuate dangerously. Originally his power growth followed a fairly predictable curve, but they had seen both significant increases and drops in the last couple of months that they could not explain. Some of it might be caused by a lack of data from the few weeks he vanished, but the variations were too significant. The readings from the fight with Nocturn were particularly erratic, and both she and Jack worried that it might be an early sign of instability, which could explain why he made himself so scarce lately. It would be unusual in a ghost like Phantom, but then again, Phantom rarely followed typical patterns and single-handedly demolished at least a half-dozen of their theories. 

She carefully went through the data, graphing each of the points and making notations where appropriate. It was tedious, busy work, but she didn’t know what else to do as she watched the minutes tick by, her anxiety too much to do anything more than something simple. She welcomed the distraction from her worries about Danny. A little after ten, Jazz came into the kitchen. 

“No word, huh?” 

“Nothing yet. You should go to bed, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll be home soon,” said Maddie as she stood up and gave her a quick hug. 

“I hope so. Don’t stay up too late,” said Jazz. 

“I’ll try not to.” It wasn’t up to her, not really. There was no way she could sleep until Danny was back. 

Jazz headed upstairs, leaving her alone. “To make coffee or not?” she muttered to herself, staring at the empty pot. If Danny came home in the next couple of hours, she’d regret it, but if he didn’t get home until three or four, she’d desperately wish she had a cup sooner.

“Not,” said Jack as he walked into the kitchen and sat down across from her. “It’ll just make you jittery, Mads.”

She smiled at him. He was right, of course. “How’d it go with the Ops Center?”

“It should be good. I wondered if the scanners weren’t calibrated properly after it picked up the odd energy readings from Phantom, but tests suggested that they’re working fine,” he said. Maddie sighed, rubbing her temples. That would have been a much better plan than immediately starting to analyze the data, but at least they were working and she hadn’t completely wasted her time.

“I started graphing the data, but I haven’t been able to figure out anything conclusive,” said Maddie as she pushed the laptop over for him to review. “I’m hoping Danny might be able to convince Phantom to meet with us to discuss it. Phantom might be aware already, but if not, we should let him know about it.”

“I’ll ask Danny about it tomorrow,” he said as he scanned through it, and then he frowned, his fingers drumming a quiet beat on the table. “Assuming he’s home by then, anyway. Still no word?”

“Not even a text. I know this isn’t unusual for him, but I’m worried. I don’t know why he wouldn’t talk to us about it,” she said. “Unless he’s uncomfortable coming to us again after we grounded him over releasing Nocturn.”

“Maybe, but he has to know that was incredibly reckless,” said Jack, and then he turned the computer back over to her and pointed at one of the coordinates mapped on the screen. “Are you sure this one’s correct?”

“Let me check.” Digging through the stack of papers, she found the relevant printout and then compared it to the data set, confirming it was accurate. They spent the next hour reviewing the information, trying to focus on something that wasn’t the time ticking ever later as they waited for Danny. 

“I could go out, try to find him,” offered Jack after a while. “If he’s doing something with the ghosts, we could use the scanner in the Ops Center, check out any spots where we’re picking up ecto signatures.”

“Let’s give it a little longer.” While there was merit to Jack’s idea, there could be dozens of ecto signatures all over Amity Park at any given moment. They typically only worried about the rare ones that exceeded specific thresholds, but there was no guarantee Danny would approach ghosts with the same mentality. The ghost dog, Cujo, that she found him playing with on the roof typically registered as only about a level 2.7, which fell just under what they would investigate. 

Closing her laptop, they headed to the living room and sat down next to each other on the couch. Jack pulled out a cross-stitch he’d been working on while she watched TV, keeping the volume down so it wouldn’t bother Jazz while her daughter hopefully tried to get some sleep. Every few minutes she found herself glancing at the door and checking her phone, her worry growing. She shouldn’t have let him go with Sam and Tucker. Every time she tried to trust him, to have faith, to give him even an inch, he would betray that. 

“What are we doing wrong?” 

“I don’t know. I thought we were starting to make progress,” said Jack. “But it does seem like we’ve slid right back to where we were, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have talked about what we learned from Alyce,” said Maddie as she ran her fingers through her hair. Danny wouldn’t try to hurt himself. She didn’t think he would, anyway, but she didn’t most people think that about loved ones who committed suicide? “I know he has a right to the truth, but he seemed to shut down more than usual afterward.”

“I think it was still the right call,” said Jack. “I don’t know that there would ever be a perfect time to tell him, and it’s better for him to hear it from us than someone else or find it on his own.”

“You might be right,” said Maddie, and suddenly her phone beeped. Picking it up, she felt her heart drop as she saw a text not from Danny, but from Valerie. 

You awake?

“Danny?” asked Jack, and Maddie shook her head. 

“No, it’s Valerie,” she said, quickly texting back, and then her phone rang a minute later.

“Hey, Mrs. F, sorry to do this, but I need help,” said Valerie. “I found Phantom and he’s hurt pretty badly.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to help a ghost, I don’t even know if you can, but his left shoulder and arm are all torn up, he’s got a hole through his chest, and there’s ectoplasm everywhere.” She sounded panicked, and Maddie bit her lip uneasily. 

“Any idea what attacked him?” 

“Not a clue. I–I’ve never seen him hurt seriously like this before. Can I bring him there? Do you know if I should just carry him on my jet sled or should I put him in a thermos?” 

“Thermos, I think? It might help stabilize him,” she said, but truthfully, Maddie didn’t know. She didn’t know how she or Jack could help, not really. Either Phantom’s core was intact and he would be fine, or it was damaged and he would destabilize since neither she nor Jack could repair a damaged ghost core. She didn’t know if anyone could. “I don’t know if it will be enough, but Jack and I will do what we can.”

Hanging up, she turned to Jack. “Phantom’s hurt?” he said, having overheard most of the conversation, and she nodded. “We probably can’t do anything for him, Mads.”

“I know. But maybe we can get him stable enough for him to be able to tell us what attacked him. Maybe he knows if Danny was close by when it happened,” she said, and heading downstairs she and Jack prepped the lab, telling herself it was a coincidence that Danny was late and not responding, that Valerie would have noticed if Danny were nearby, that there was no way Danny could have run into whatever ghost attacked Phantom and be hurt, too. 

The table they prepared was one they originally intended to use for dissections. They never did manage to do one successfully, thanks to Danny constantly releasing the ghosts they captured, although perhaps that was for the best. The ethics of such a thing seemed dubious now given everything they learned so far, and Maddie no longer had the stomach for it. 

It was about ten minutes before Valerie arrived, her suit spattered in ectoplasm as she held out her thermos and let her helmet retract, making her hair spill out down her back. “Can I swap for a new thermos?” she asked. “Phantom’s the only ghost in there, but I want to go back and make sure that whatever hurt him that badly isn’t still around.”

“Of course, there are a few empty ones in the cabinet over there,” said Maddie. “Please stay in touch with us, though. If something could hurt Phantom this badly, then it must be incredibly dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt, too.”

“Can do,” agreed Val as she grabbed a thermos from the cabinet.

“And Valerie?” she turned. “Let us know if you see Danny out there.”

Her eyes went wide. “He’s not home?” 

“We didn’t give it much thought - this has happened dozens of times before with him - but knowing that he seeks out the ghosts and that Phantom was badly injured, I’m worried he may have gotten hurt,” said Maddie. “He hasn’t been answering his phone all night.”

“I’ll look for him,” she said, quickly running out the door, and Maddie took a deep breath as she hit the release button on the thermos. 

Phantom’s condition was much, much worse than Valerie let on, and Maddie swallowed as she took in the sight. His Hazmat suit was ripped to shreds along his left sleeve with dozens of puncture wounds. Animal bites, perhaps? Phantom’s shoulder appeared to be dislocated, too, although how that was even possible for a ghost she couldn’t say given that they shouldn’t have any bones or joints to speak of, but as she felt his arm she could feel a structure there, of something beyond the mere ectoplasm that should have been there. But the worst was the hole through his chest, roughly the size of a golf ball. If he were human, he would be gone, his heart already destroyed. As a ghost? Ectoplasm spilled from the wound as they carefully moved Phantom to the table, and Maddie shook her head. It must have missed destroying his core, at least, otherwise, he would already be little more than a pile of ectoplasm, but the damage was severe, his glow severely muted.

“I’m not sure we can help him, Jack,” she said as she tried to undo the zipper on his suit, but it appeared to be fused. “Scissors?”

Jack reached into the cabinet and pulled out a heavy-duty pair, handing it over to her. “Here,” he said. “Maybe I can use some of the extra line for the Fenton Fisher. Might be a little thicker than we’d like for stitches, but he shouldn’t be able to phase it out at least.” 

“But if he ends up out of phase, then it also won't become intangible with him,” said Maddie. “He’d lose the stitches completely.”

“I–right you are, Mads. We’ll have to use something resistant but not completely phase-proof, then,” he said. “Let me see what I have.”

“Do it quickly,” she said as she carefully cut away at the top part of the suit. It was hard work - the suit was resistant to tears and fought hard as she dragged the scissors through the material - but eventually, she managed to cut away the top and separate it from the hood and face shield as Jazz tugged off his boots. Beneath the suit he was wearing a thin, vaguely familiar looking t-shirt, which she managed to cut away, too as Jack pulled off the rest of the suit, leaving on a pair of dark pants. His shirt was soaked in ectoplasm, and as she peeled it away from his skin she saw something that made her heart stop.

“Hon,” she said as Jack fiddled with a needle and thread, and her voice cracked as she spoke, “he’s got a Lichtenberg figure.”

“What?” Jack looked up at it, frowning, but even beneath the spilled ectoplasm they could see the glowing, fern-like pattern stretching up his left hand and arm and about halfway across his pale chest, stopping roughly where it would meet a human heart, or in this case, the gaping wound. “Mads–this–it can’t be, right?” 

She flipped over Phantom’s left hand, her stomach dropping as she saw the perfectly round, glowing mark on his palm, and Maddie felt physically ill as she stared at it. It looked like a galaxy in miniature, black and swirling and pulsing with tiny lights, and it was in the exact same spot as Danny’s own portal scar that marked him as a liminal. “Help me get his hood off?” she said, and Jack nodded, swallowing as they slowly removed it. They should be moving quickly, trying to fix Phantom’s injuries, but they had to know.

Pulling off his hood, she saw a shock of faintly glowing, brilliant white hair. His eyes, which she could usually see glowing green beneath his face shield, were closed, and a faint trail of ectoplasm leaked from the corner of his mouth. He was younger than either of them ever thought, having only heard his voice through his radio. But despite the shift in coloration, despite the way he glowed, despite everything she recognized him immediately, the shape of his face all too familiar. 

“It’s Danny,” she said, wringing her hands. “How . . .? He’s not . . . He can’t . . .”

“Doesn’t matter right now,” said Jack as he put a firm hand on her shoulder. “We need to help him. We can’t let our son die.”

She didn’t correct him. Didn’t point out the obvious, that if this was Danny lying here (and it was, wasn’t it?) then clearly her son was already dead and had been for a long time. Instead, she started moving, cleaning up the ectoplasm spilling from him around the wound in his chest and applying pressure there so Jack could try to stitch it and stop him from losing any more fluid as she tried, impossibly, to not think about it. Not focus on the fact that this was her son, that these wounds could have easily been caused by them mere months after they’d shot at him countless times, that he was–had been–

“Think we can replace what he’s lost so far?” asked Jack as he finished prepping the needle. Compartmentalize. Focus. Breathe. 

“Maybe?” Checking the fridge, she found a few purified ectoplasm samples and paused for a moment. Was ectoplasm like blood? Were there types she didn’t know about? Would she hurt him if she gave him a transfusion now, possibly saving him only to make him suffer worse later? They never saw any indication that such a thing existed, but then again, they never really looked, and Danny stopped them from doing that level of in-depth research by freeing the ghosts before they could run more detailed experiments. Already there were things she could see that didn’t make sense, a bone structure and what looked like a much more complex biological system than they believed possible for ghosts, and she found herself spiraling again when she felt Jack’s steady hand on her shoulder. 

“Breathe, Mads.”

Maddie nodded as she let out a shaky breath as she tried to refocus. She didn’t know the best place to inject it, didn’t think that ghosts had veins yet she could clearly see some semblance of bone and tissue and other structures there in the wound, and the more she worked the more she realized just how little they were positioned to help. The two foremost experts in the paranormal, with her own specialty in ecto biology, of all things, and it was utterly worthless when she desperately needed it more than any other moment in her life. “Where should I put it?” 

“I–does he have veins?” asked Jack, echoing her own thoughts. 

“I don’t know - I would’ve said no, a year ago, but I don’t–so much of our research has been proven wrong. I would’ve said he didn’t have bones or joints, and yet his shoulder is dislocated,” she whispered. “Maybe just stitch him?” 

Jack nodded as he stuck the needle in carefully, and she saw Danny’s fingers twitch but he remained unconscious as Jack slowly continued. She cleaned Danny’s arms, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw that at least his other wounds didn’t look like they would need stitches. 

As Jack finished, she carefully put gauze over the scratches and puncture wounds. “What now?” she wondered quietly as her phone chimed. Valerie. She hadn’t found the ghost responsible. Hadn’t found Danny. Maddie had to choke down a half-laugh, half-sob. She sent her a quick note of thanks, telling her to go to bed and that they would take care of it. There was no way she could have this conversation with her, not right now. 

“I think his shoulder is dislocated,” said Jack. “He might wake up if we try to set it.”

“He didn’t wake up from the stitches.” The shoulder would be worse. She knew that, having experienced both in her own life after a nasty car accident as a teenager. But Phantom–Danny–only looked paler, the glow from his skin fading more and more as he lay on the table. “He’s getting worse.”

“I know. I think we need to attempt the transfusion,” he suggested. 

“His core?” The thought crossed her mind, too. “It could damage it.”

“Worse than if we do nothing?” 

“I don’t know.” She gently touched his chest, trying to see if she could feel it, somehow, like a heartbeat, and she tried not to focus on how there was no steady heart beat there now as she searched. To her surprise, something resonated beneath her fingertips, humming and almost whispering to her in a language she could not quite understand. “There’s something there. Might be it.”

“I’ll do it,” offered Jack.

She swallowed, nodding as she handed over the purified ectoplasm. Jack carefully set up a syringe, and then Maddie moved her hand and put his there instead. “Feel it?” 

“I think so,” he confirmed as he gently placed the needle there, and she could see his hand trembling slightly but still by far less than her own. “Here goes.”

He inserted the syringe and then pushed in the plunger, emptying the contents into what was hopefully Danny’s core, and then pulled it out. For a moment nothing happened, but then the glow around Danny seemed to brighten. “Do you think that was enough?”

“Honey,” she groaned, wishing she could put her head in her hands since of course, she didn’t know. There was no way to know anything for sure, not right now. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was approaching about two in the morning. They were down here with him for so long - how could it have possibly been almost two hours?

“Sorry, right. I guess we’ll give it a few minutes, at least?” He sat down on the stool beside the table, pulling off his gloves to hold Danny’s hand, and then he winced. “That’s probably not good.”

“What?”

“He feels hot,” said Jack, and Maddie pulled off her own gloves, her fingers gently touching his chest. Jack was right - Danny didn’t feel feverish the way a living person might, but his skin was warm to the touch in a way it hadn’t been in nearly two years. “Would ice packs make sense? I don’t–I wish we weren’t flying so blind here, Mads.”

“I know,” she sighed as she checked the freezers, but there were no ice packs within even if they could potentially help. “Should we wake up Jazz? If he’s not going to make it, she’ll want a chance to say something to him.”

It sounded silly, talking about it this way. As if he were still alive and not already dead, as if this wasn’t already a ghost and not her son but some shadow of him, an echo of his subconscious implanted onto an ectoplasmic construct at the moment of his death in the portal. Their portal. Her stomach clenched as she swallowed. This was their fault, wasn’t it? How had they missed it?

“If he doesn’t improve soon . . .” he let it hang. How would they begin to explain it to her? What if Danny destabilized before they told her and there was simply nothing left of him but a puddle of ectoplasm? How would they explain it to anyone? Claim he ran away? Nobody would understand it or believe it. Two ghost hunters, living in a house with a ghost, never realizing their poor son was actually dead and had been for ages now.

“Why didn’t the doctors figure it out?” wondered Jack as he gently tucked Danny’s hair behind his ears the way he used to when he was a child. “They did so many tests.”

“I–” She stopped, catching herself. It was an excellent question, one she asked before when it came to her son, when they first realized he wasn’t possessed. Although they certainly met ghosts that could fool the naked eye like Ember, any close examination would quickly reveal they weren’t living, breathing humans. They never succeeded in dissecting Ember or Spectra, but both failed to have heartbeats, to breathe, or to have any of the very real, very living characteristics her son had during the few tests they did manage. But right now his heart didn’t beat, he had no pulse, he didn’t breathe . . . was it possible it was faked, somehow? An elaborate illusion crafted from ectoplasm? “I don’t know. Overshadowing?” 

“Seems unlikely.” She didn’t disagree. But her brain struggled to come up with anything at this point, exhausted from both a lack of sleep and the constant, unyielding panic she felt since the second she realized Danny was Phantom. 

They watched him in silence, sitting beside him. Jack spoke to him softly while she simply held his left hand in hers, the strange scar on his hand buzzing beneath her skin as they waited. 

“Maybe we should try another injection,” said Jack after a half hour or so with little to no change. 

“Okay,” she agreed as she put on a new pair of gloves and pulled another sample from the freezer, not sure what else to do. Handing it over to him, she watched as he prepped it yet again, and then plunged it into Danny’s chest after finding what they hoped was indeed his core.

Putting aside the syringe, Jack pulled off his gloves and touched Danny’s head. “Temperature has dropped a bit with that one. Probably a good sign, right?”

“I hope so.” His glow seemed to improve, too, and she watched him carefully for a moment, her arms wrapped around her chest as she leaned over in her chair. 

And then his eyelids fluttered. “Jack,” she said, feeling the tiniest bit of hope for the first time all night, and the two of them stood up and watched him carefully. Danny blinked, his eyes glowing an intense, toxic shade of green as his fingers went to his chest. 

“No,” he whispered as his hands brushed his stitches. “No no no no no nonononononono—”

“--Danny, honey, it’s okay, you were hurt, we–”

His eyes were wide as he sat up and stumbled, falling off the lab table and crashing to the floor. He let out a small scream as he landed on his injured arm, desperately scrambling away from her. From Jack. 

“Danny?” she wondered, staring at him. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. 

“What did you do?” he whispered, his voice echoing as he trembled and looked at the two of them, and it was only then that she remembered his confession about his nightmares. 

The ones where he was a ghost. Where she and Jack experimented on him, dissected him . . . “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry,” she said as she tried to explain, but apologizing was the wrong thing to do, his mouth opening in shock and horror, and then there was a small popping sound and he vanished.

“Did he . . . ?”

“Teleport? I think so,” said Jack, staring. “Did he think–does he not–?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she stared at the spot her son was moments ago. The only evidence he was here tonight was the ectoplasm staining their jumpsuits and the large pile of ruined sponges and washcloths she used to clean the ectoplasm from his skin, and unable to help herself, Maddie finally broke down and sobbed.

Chapter Text

Part Three: The Death of Danny Fenton

Danny shouldn’t have teleported. 

His entire body spasmed, little sparks traveling up and down along the Lichtenberg figure as he screamed and his back arched. His chest felt like it was being torn in two, though whether the pain was from his core finally fracturing or the wound in his chest he didn’t know. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking out as the pain eventually began to subside, and he curled in on himself, every inch of him trembling and shaking as he sobbed.

It was a long time before he finally managed to look up, opening his eyes to an endless sea of green. He could make out a handful of purple doors and islands floating in the distance, and although he didn’t know how it was possible, even though he had only dared to venture here a handful of times since becoming half-ghost, he recognized it. 

The Ghost Zone.

“How . . .?” he whispered, his voice echoing. Despite the persistent sense of familiarity and welcoming the Ghost Zone provided, Danny hadn’t meant to come here and didn’t know how it was possible without opening a portal, which he couldn’t do. He remembered waking up to his parents hovering over him and then he knew he panicked, his nightmares too close to the surface, and when his mom apologized ( she used his name she said Danny while he was a ghost she knew they both knew) he could no longer think straight as he began to wonder what else they might have done, how else they might have hurt him. He teleported blindly in search of someplace safe, somewhere that would protect him.

He should have gone to Sam or Tucker’s. They already offered to take him in if the worst happened with his family, and he half-expected to feel Tucker’s hand on his shoulder, quietly giving him comfort even as he stared at the ocean of ectoplasm around him, but there was no one here, the emptiness and isolation oppressive and overwhelming.

His fingers went down to his chest, touching it and the stitches, the bandage on his injured shoulder, and it was only then that Danny remembered that it wasn’t his parents that hurt him even if he still ended up as a subject on their lab table. “They helped me,” he whispered, awestruck as the revelation hit him. Even as Phantom. Even as a ghost. Even when they knew the truth. 

And Vlad . . . he felt his stomach twist in knots as he remembered. He went to the park alone, having left Sam and Tucker at the Nasty Burger after they spent a couple of hours talking, and although they had a thousand more questions, Danny felt too raw, too exposed, and too exhausted to continue. He was supposed to go home after, but he couldn’t stand sitting through dinner with Vlad. The mere thought of being stuck at the table with him made Danny nauseous. There was no doubt Vlad would spend the entire time flirting with his Mom while thinking up new ways to kill his Dad, all while being a condescending jerk to him, the creep assuming Danny wasn’t worth his time.

He could remember sensing a ghost while sitting near the fountain, transforming into Phantom, and then getting jumped from behind as some kind of grizzly bear ghost mauled him. His shoulder popped as it dislocated, again, making his head spin as he barely resisted the urge to vomit and scream. Danny could remember how he spun around, sending a massive ectoblast in its direction and knocking it over, but as he pulled out his thermos to suck it up he stopped, staring at the figure watching him coldly from the treeline as the ghost fled.

Plasmius.

Their specific conversation escaped Danny, but the undercurrent was clear: he knew . Somehow. Impossibly, he knew. While Danny understood that his secret was fragile, that any mistake on his part could easily lead to the truth being discovered, he didn’t realize how easily destroyed it could be until the first crack appeared in that moment when his friends witnessed his death echo. The fractures continued to spiral outward from that point on, splintering into a thousand spider web-like lines as his secret continued to break, rapidly shattering no matter how much he tried to keep it contained.

And now the cracks in his carefully crafted lies had spread all the way to Vlad.

He was surprised when Vlad asked him to join him, to be mentored by him, to connect with him as no other could, the two of them a rarity even amongst other liminals, their state so close to a perfect balance between life and death that it ought to be impossible. And somehow, as Vlad looked at him, Danny saw it went beyond that, too. That there was something Vlad craved as much as Danny craved dreams, that his obsession was linked to a desire he could never fulfill, and that he would destroy everything in his path as he desperately tried to fill that hole, that ache that went impossibly deep, a pain and loneliness that no one else, human or ghost, could truly understand. 

But knowing Vlad the way he did, Danny knew that there was absolutely no way he could be the person that would help fill that void.

So he refused, and Vlad . . . Vlad reacted poorly. The man always struck him as perfectly calm, too composed to act so rashly, and the ectoblast that pierced his chest caught him off guard, a sharp pain shooting through him as it grazed his core, as it punctured his–

He stopped, shaking his head, refusing to accept it as he laid a hand over the stitches on his chest. No. It hadn’t–his heart wasn’t–he hadn’t–he wasn’t – 

“Hey, dipstick,” said Ember, startling him enough that he tried to make an ecto blast, but his hand spasmed, pain shooting up his arm as the ectoplasm near his palm fizzled and died instantly. He didn’t know when she found him, never even noticed his ghost sense go off if it did at all, and the thought worried him. How weak was he now if even his ghost sense wasn’t working properly?

“Whoa, easy, it’s just me.” She held up her hands, her guitar slung over her back as she tilted her head to the side and studied him for a moment. “You’re–well, you’re not okay, baby pop, but whatever happened, it’s over now. They can’t hurt you here.”

“Ember?” he whispered, his voice echoing faintly as she floated closer to him now that he wasn’t about to attack.

“Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do you know what happened to you, dipstick?”

“I’m not dead,” he said automatically, his fingers tracing the stitches on his chest, but he could see the faint glow around him, the vague translucency of his fingers. The odd void and stars that he had seen stretched across his skin before were largely absent, his flesh almost ordinary looking aside from the pulsing Lichtenberg figure that traveled up his arm and chest from the scar on his palm, which looked like a tiny nebula in a way he found strangely captivating even as it terrified him. 

But that didn’t worry him as much as how weak and insubstantial he felt, as if he were made of air rather than flesh or ectoplasm. 

“Humans don’t glow like you do,” she said gently, but there was no anger in her voice. “They don’t survive injuries like that, either.”

“ I’m not dead, ” he insisted stubbornly, the words echoing more sharply, but she seemed unphased as she moved to float beside him. 

“Baby pop,” she sighed, and then bit her lip. “Danny.” He froze as she addressed him by name. She rarely did, choosing to address him by odd nicknames that started off as insults and eventually became terms of endearment. “I know what you’re going through, even if you might think I don’t. I didn’t want to accept it, either. I wasn’t much older than you, y’know.” She pulled out her guitar, strumming softly, her eyes focused on her fingers as they danced across the strings. “And it’s okay if you can’t accept it yet, but if you spend too much time in denial, refusing to believe what happened to you, then it’ll warp you into something you don’t want to be.”

“And what’s that?”

“Angry,” she said, slowly plucking out discordant notes and chords that almost formed a melody but not quite. “Cruel. You’ll long for something you can never have, and over time it’ll twist you more and more until all that’s left is the anger and the rage and you think that’s enough, that’s what you wanted, and you won’t care who you hurt as long as you get what you crave, what you need to fill that ache that’s been there since the moment you died alone and in pain because of what they did to you.” Her hair was ablaze, growing and growing and making Danny uneasy as he floated beside her, not wanting to get burned, and then her fingers stopped plucking at the strings, her eyes closing for a moment, and the flame slowly died down, the occasional little flare flickering.

“Did you ever ask yourself what my obsession is?” she asked eventually, eyes opening once more as she looked at him.

Danny nodded. How could he not? “You want to be remembered. But also . . . to be seen and understood.” It felt almost taboo to speak the words out loud, to acknowledge what drove her even as Danny knew there was no specific rule or custom against talking about it. 

“Do you have any idea how impossible that was before your parents’ portal opened?” she asked. “I was barely substantial for the brief time I spent in the human world. No one could see me or hear me, and although finding my way here strengthened me, it kept me from satisfying my obsession, too  . . . When the portal finally opened, my obsession was a scream, the void a chasm. I devoured the worship given to me by my fans who called my name, forcing them to give every ounce of their emotional energy and love to me.”

“But eventually I realized none of it lasted. I would feel whole again, present and remembered and understood on that stage, but then the void would return, worse than before, because none of it was real . All of that anger and the pain, every bit of emotion I devoured to fill me was temporary. But there was nothing better, and even as it filled me it left me hollow and I wondered if there was anything I could, any way I could ever, truly escape the emptiness and ache of undeath  . . .  and then Phantom came along.” She paused, considering for a moment. “You came along. And you made me think I could be better, that there was a way to fill that hole, that void somehow, and you were right, even if you didn’t realize exactly what you were doing. But I think you did, because you–you feel that, too, don’t you?”

Danny swallowed, looking up at her, his chest tight. He expected her to snap at him, to lash out as her hair exploded into flames again, to strike him with a chord that would paralyze him or send him spiraling off further into the depths of the Ghost Zone, but instead, she merely stared off into the distance, a hint of sadness in her eyes.  “Do you . . .  do you know?” The weight in the last word was impossibly heavy, and he dug his nails into his arms, clutching them tightly as he waited for her to answer him.

“That you’re Phantom?” He gave the barest hint of a nod. “Not until your friends made that stupid wish and I talked to Skulker. He and Desiree put it together. It wasn’t hard after what your friends told them. It’s not as if you were the first liminal to exist that could be both human and a ghost, dipstick.” 

“And you’re not mad?” 

“Oh, I was,” she said, the fire in her hair growing a little larger, but it died down quickly. “Ask Skulker what I did to my lair when you see him.” She grinned, fingers plucking a gentle melody again as she continued. “I was pissed. I felt manipulated. Hurt. You spent all that time as Phantom shoving us in a thermos, barely even speaking to us, preventing me from fulfilling my obsession, and then you ran around acting like our friend when you weren’t in the suit. It felt like a trick, like I–like everything you did was a lie.” She paused, looking off for a moment, and there was a hint of flame, a brighter spark in her hair as a hint of anger flickered. “We were supposed to be friends, dipstick.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t–I just–”

“--it’s fine,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m over it. I’m supposed to be your wise sensei now, remember? I can’t give you life lessons if I’m not able to understand that you’re just a scared, lonely kid hoping to find someone who would see you and understand you. Accept you. Remember you.” She leaned over, pulling him into a sudden hug, and he blinked before eventually letting himself relax into it, tears burning in his eyes as she held him tightly in an embrace he didn’t even realize he desperately needed. “Never thought I’d have so much in common with a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–”

“--dipstick, the only one dorkier than you is Pointdexter,” she teased, and he pulled away from her as he scowled. “And even that might depend on the day.”

“Not cool,” he whispered, brushing aside the tears with the back of his hand before they could fall. “I’m not a nerd.”

“How many constellations can you point out in the night sky?” she asked. “Or, ooh, what’s the speed a rocket has to go to get into space?”

“It’s called escape velocity or escape speed,” he explained, unable to help himself even as he knew on some level that he was proving her point, “and it depends on what body you’re launching from. It’s 11.186 kilometers per second from the visible surface of the Earth for a non-propelled object. Rockets don’t actually have to reach escape velocity because their engines counteract gravity, but typically they go from zero to eight thousand meters per second to achieve orbital velocity and . . . and  . . . ” The words died in his throat as Ember cocked an eyebrow at him and he winced. “Fine. But I’m only a nerd for space.”

 “It ain’t a bad thing, baby pop,” she said as she started strumming again. “Maybe you’ll get to be obsessed with space. I don’t actually know if a liminal’s obsession can change when they die.”

The words jolted him, reminding him of his reality. It had been so easy to relax, to forget for a minute why he was here and what happened to him as he fell into the familiar pattern of conversation with her. “I’m not dead,” he insisted.

“I’d love for you to prove me wrong, but this?” She gestured at him, staring at the wound on his chest that was now stitched up. “You’re barely substantial now. You’re so weak the Box Ghost could defeat you without breaking a sweat. And that injury isn’t the sort of thing that even a liminal could survive.” She put a hand on his shoulder, trying to provide what little comfort she could. “I’m sorry, kid. I know it’s not what you want to hear.”

“Because it’s not true,” he snapped, brushing her hand aside and hiding his face in his hands. He refused to accept it. To believe it. He was not dead. He couldn’t be dead. “I’ll prove it.” Closing his eyes, he let out a shaky breath and then reached within himself for that warmth, that spark of humanity that rested so close to his core. Even in Tucker’s room when he struggled to transform back he could still feel it, still sense it, still grasp it within himself and hold it close to his heart, setting off a spark within that would spread throughout his body as it breathed life back into him and summoned his humanity from the cold, empty depths..

But the only response was absence, a void that was frozen and dark and dead , and Danny’s eyes snapped open as Ember watched him in silence as he reached for it again, searching and searching, hoping he missed it somehow, knowing it had to be there, that he couldn’t be–he wasn’t–

“I’m not dead,” he repeated hollowly as he choked back a sob. “I can’t be dead.” He couldn’t stop repeating it, even though he knew it was useless to keep saying it. But a quiet part of him felt that it made an uncomfortable sort of sense as he felt the Ghost Zone around him, the ambient ectoplasm resonating with his weakened core, a place that he never called his home but that felt so much like where he belonged now that it scared him. 

And why else would he have ended up here rather than at Sam or Tucker’s or some other place he felt safe and welcomed and whole, if not for the fact that some part of him instinctively knew that this was where he was meant to be?

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asked gently.

“No.” He could not begin to deal with the possibility of a death echo, some not-so-small part of him still in denial and fearing anything that might lend more credence to the possibility that he might be fully and truly dead. Because even though he half-lived after the accident, there was no denying he died that day, too, the echo as true for him as any other ghost. And Danny doubted that even he could escape death twice.

“Well if you ever do, I’m here,” she offered, and then she stretched out, slinging her guitar onto her back. “Why don’t you come with me? I was going to visit Skulker when I found you. He won’t mind, promise.”

“You know he’s tried to skin me like, a dozen times, right?” 

“Would you rather be alone?” she asked. 

“No. And I . . . I guess for now I don’t have anywhere else to be,” he said. He followed her in silence, trying not to think about it, about how he couldn’t sense it, couldn’t feel that spark within himself that always reminded him of his humanity no matter how much like a ghost he felt. 

But he remained terrified, uncertain, and unsteady, wondering what he should do and where he should go, if he could ever go home like this or if he would need to learn to embrace that there was nothing and no one left for him there, that it would only be harder for them if he remained and became more and more unlike the Danny they remembered.

The island was obvious even from afar, the giant skull sending a shiver down his spine as Danny landed beside her near an old hunting cabin. “Wait here,” she instructed, and he gave a half-hearted salute as he squatted to watch a tiny, glowing bug inch slowly across the ground while Ember went looking for Skulker. He knew there was an entire ecosystem within the ghost zone itself from previous trips here, that it had its own sort of life even if it wasn’t life as those in his world knew it. At one point he hoped to study it a bit, see if he could use something he learned to help him convince his parents–his–

His core ached painfully in his chest and he winced, biting his lower lip as he hugged himself tightly and buried his head in his knees. He couldn’t think about his family and friends. Not right now. Not when he knew he would probably never see them again since he was–he wasn’t–

‘Maybe refusing to think about it is why so many ghosts forget about their lives,’ he thought, but he pushed his fears down, too. He wouldn’t forget them. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t think about them right now, either, not when he still didn’t know for sure if he was fully dead or not and didn’t know what to do.

“What?!” Skulker’s shout jolted him, and there was a bang as a door slammed and Skulker walked out, glancing around until his eyes locked onto him. For a moment Danny thought about running away, fleeing from him before he could do something awful, but then Skulker wrapped his arms around Danny in what had to be the strangest hug of his life. 

“Uhh . . .”

“I apologize for being so emotional, whelp,” said Skulker as he squeezed him tightly, the robotic arms digging uncomfortably into his side, and then he released him, studying him closely. “But you were the only human to look at us with a shred of kindness, and you did not deserve such a violent end.”

“You never seemed to care before,” said Danny. He tried to reach out to Skulker once in the hopes that he could get the ghost to redirect his obsession, but the attempt went so poorly that he never made a second one, and Skulker never stopped trying to hunt him as Phantom.

“I refused your offers but appreciated the attempt. As did all of us,” said Skulker as Ember stepped outside and joined them. “As the greatest hunter in the ghost zone, I will happily pursue whatever quarry brought you down, child.”

“You won’t.”

“I–”

“--it was Plasmius,” interrupted Danny. 

Skulker frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest, his expression darkening. “Ah.”

“Wait, that creep is the one that killed you?” snapped Ember, her hair igniting. “I’ve always hated him. Maybe Skulker isn’t willing to go after him, but I’ve wanted to break his smug face since the first time I met him.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” said Danny. Ember stood no chance against Plasmius. Neither did Skulker. Danny thought he might have, once, but clearly, he misjudged the situation more than he realized. “Vlad’s too dangerous.”

“Dipstick, I–”

“--I won’t take another job from him,” promised Skulker, kneeling before him, and he tapped Danny’s bare chest for emphasis. “You were a child . There is nothing you could have done to deserve this end. And I’ll talk to the other ghosts, too. We may not be able to defeat him on our own, but together, we can make this world a very unwelcoming place for him.”

“Thank you,” said Danny softly, a bit confused. “But I mean, you hunted me, too, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were a whelp,” said Skulker. “If I had, then I may have spent years pretending to hunt you, to chase you and help your skills develop, before I finally took you down for good. There’s no thrill in defeating a child.”

“That’s not nearly as comforting as you think,” whispered Danny, wiping tears from his eyes. “Were you–um–did you tell Plasmius? About me?”

“No. Did he know, then? When he struck you down?” asked Skulker. Danny was surprised he hadn’t told Vlad. He assumed, given their relationship, that there was no way he wouldn’t let the man know as soon as he learned the truth.

“He only just figured it out. I–I refused to join him, and he–he turned around and he–” said Danny, touching his chest as he stared at his feet, and the zone reverberated with the faintest of echoes, of a shot to the chest and his collapse, and he found himself sobbing at the confirmation. 

A death echo. 

“To harm a ghost child, liminal or otherwise, is a grave crime, particularly if he knew the truth,” said Skulker as Ember put a hand on his shoulder. “He will need to face justice for what he has done.”

“Please don’t go after him,” begged Danny. “I don’t–I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Ember and Skulker exchanged a long look. “Very well,” sighed Skulker. “But I still won’t work for him again.”

“Does your family know yet? About what you are?” asked Ember after a long moment of silence passed between the three of them.

“I didn’t tell any of my friends, human or ghost. The human friends I have found out like three days ago after Nocturn attacked Amity Park. And my family . . .” The terror and panic on his parents’ faces flashed through his mind, and he gripped his core tightly, forcing out a breath he didn’t need. How long before his desire to breathe finally died for good, too? “Sorry.”

Ember and Skulker sat down beside him, and he felt her put a hand on his back again, trying to comfort him once more. He appreciated the effort, however small, as he hugged his knees against his chest. “Do they know what happened to you?”

“My parents do. I was in the lab. I thought they were trying to, um, y’know, but I actually think–I hope–that they were trying to help me,” he whispered, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry. I should stop crying. It’s stupid. I’ve already sort of been a ghost for almost two years. I shouldn’t be so messed up about this.”

“There’s a big difference between when you can turn it on and off and when you can’t anymore,” said Ember. It wasn’t exactly accurate–there was no turning off his otherworldliness completely, even when he was human - but it was close enough to reality that it stung. 

“You shouldn’t go to the human world for a bit,” advised Skulker. “It’s . . . challenging, if you meet the living while they still remember you, whelp. They won’t recognize you.”

He thought of Sam, then, as he sat on Tucker’s bed and the incredible way she managed to see him despite the shadows and stars that danced on his skin. Of how both of them accepted him, listened to him and showed genuine curiosity and affection despite the clear uneasiness they felt, too. But that was before, and now? He might look like Danny Fenton, but over time, as he forgot his life and family and friends and his obsession pushed him further and further away from his humanity? He wasn’t ready to admit he was fully dead, but if he was? “You’re probably right.” 

Danny sat with the two of them in silence for a long time, their presence strangely comforting. He tried not to think about what this meant or what he should do. He tried not to think about the hollowness that was still there in his chest, an ache he could not fill, that he now doubted could ever be fixed and that might eventually drive him to devour more dreams. At some point, he should see Nocturn. He made the bargain in good faith, but there would be no keeping it now. Ghosts, as far as he knew, didn’t dream. 

Once or twice, whether out of sheer denial or habit, Danny tried to reach for that spark again, that warmth that embraced him when he transformed back, but he still couldn’t sense it. The confirmation was damning, even as he desperately tried to ignore it. 

“I’m still going to speak with the other ghosts about Plasmius,” said Skulker after a bit. “But you are welcome here until you find your own lair.”

“Thanks.” 

“I know you’ve been to the Infinite Realms a couple of times, but I can give you a tour, baby pop, if you’d like a distraction,” said Ember, nudging his arm. 

“Sure.” What else was there to do? 

“Cool, let me grab something quick.” She hurried back inside the cabin, returning a few minutes later with one of the t-shirts from her brief tour in the real world before Phantom put a stop to it. “Your appearance will probably change eventually. They always do. But you can have this for now, if you want.”

He pulled the t-shirt over his head without a word, feeling infinitely grateful since he definitely preferred wearing one of her concert t-shirts to running around without a shirt on for now and the scar across his chest visible to every ghost they encountered. The scar on his palm was obvious enough, but this? He couldn’t–he didn’t want to discuss it. He didn’t want to think about it. 

The two of them flew for a while before he bumped into the other ghosts that he knew. The Lunch Lady gave him a hug, too, but that was normal for her, the physical affection a constant even during the time he spent alive and learning how to bake from her in his family’s kitchen. “The transition is always hard, dearie, but you’re a strong child. You’ll endure,” she said kindly as she offered to keep giving him baking lessons if he was interested and sweets even if he wasn’t, despite both of them knowing that if Ember was right, he wouldn’t need food again.

Technus claimed he didn’t care. Danny wasn’t surprised–he never managed to develop a relationship with the ghost, despite his repeated efforts. Maybe Tucker would have had better luck. “In my time, living to sixteen was a luxury,” he said simply as if Danny ought to be grateful for being murdered so ‘late’ in his life. Danny didn’t point out that he was only fifteen, a few months away from his birthday still in late August. He doubted the distinction would make much of a difference.

“A gift for you, child, in recognition of your first death day,” offered Desiree when they found her, and she gave him a small necklace in the shape of a star. His stomach clenched (did he still have a stomach? He felt so insubstantial now, barely present) , but he accepted it, tucking it beneath his shirt. 

Poindexter sought them out. “I came as soon as I heard,” he said, hugging him too for a long time. “I was only a little older than you, y’know.” It was a fact Danny acknowledged but rarely dwelled on, especially after Sidney showed him his own past. “I’d really like to show the bully that did this to you what’s what.”

“Please don’t. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, and–and it’s fine,” lied Danny, swallowing. It would never be fine. Despite how much he considered ending his own life, this–it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his choice. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. To explain. To apologize. 

Kitty and Johnny offered him a room, which shocked him even as he declined the offer. “We don’t use it, really,” said Kitty. “We prefer the open road. But it can take time to find the right door, so if you change your mind, let us know.”

The reminder that he might have a lair now jolted him. He hadn’t before, or at least, never found one, and he pushed the thought aside, refusing to think about it. It was almost easy to deny the truth, to ignore the reality that struck him until he felt his stitches catch on the t-shirt he borrowed from Ember or the occasional, sharp pain in his core. Eventually, he would have to face the truth. He knew he would. But right now, he wanted to dwell in the gray, the space in between. At least he had a lot of practice. 

He didn’t know how long he and Ember were traveling when they arrived at Dora’s Keep. Danny helped Dora overthrow her brother about nine months ago and hadn’t seen her since. She was the only one who didn’t know him as Danny Fenton but as Phantom. She still liked him despite the other ghosts' hatred for Phantom, but it probably helped that he only shoved her into a thermos once before eventually helping her out. “Do you feel anything when you see any of the doors or islands?” asked Ember curiously. “A tug, maybe?”

“Nothing,” he said. He refused to tell her that he wasn’t looking for his lair, knowing already she would lecture him about refusing to accept the truth. 

“Dora has space. I’m sure she’d let you stay here if you want. You could be a knight,” said Ember gently, resting a hand on his shoulder for a minute before they headed inside. He could see how hard she was trying to help him, to comfort him, to prevent him from spiraling. It probably wasn’t enough. He could feel himself starting to break, the cracks spreading. 

“I don’t think I want that.” He spent the last two years trying to save everyone, and for what? To simply die ( no, not die, he wasn’t dead)  in a park alone? Maybe at some point, his obsession would drive him back to it, but for now, he preferred to do literally anything but fight even as he worried that not doing so might lead to him devouring dreams again. How long before he became exactly the sort of monster his parents feared? 

The palace was radically different. The castle was bright instead of dour, the artwork and decorations having jumped forward at least two or three hundred years in history. Dora greeted them at the gate, smiling warmly at him as they explained who he was, and Ember was right about Dora offering him a space.

“You may, Sir Phantom, have a place here at my side as my knight if you wish it,” she said. “This time in your afterlife is important as it will define who you are for centuries. Change comes slowly for most of us.”

“It seems to have come pretty quickly here,” said Danny, wondering if that had more to do with the keep now being shaped by Dora’s own desires or his previous liminal status impacting it somehow, the way Nocturn implied it could. “But for now, I think I need more time to adjust.”

“Of course, Sir Phantom.” Dora bowed as the two of them took their leave.

He flew with Ember for a little longer. The two of them were eventually ambushed by Cujo, but unlike the other ghosts, the dog refused to leave. 

“I think you’re stuck with the mutt for good now,” she said as she scratched behind Cujo’s ears. “He’s probably better company than most of us.”

Danny hugged Cujo to his chest, letting the dog nuzzle his face for a minute. “If you want to go, I think I’ll be okay for a bit. I . .  . I kind of want some time to myself.”

“It’s cool, baby pop,” she said as she punched him gently in his uninjured arm. “Come find me if you want to keep up with the lessons or if you need a distraction. Skulker’s on a hunting trip like every other day, so I’ve got some time. I know the first few months are hard.”

“I will.” He watched her fly away, leaving him alone in the endless green expanse. Danny curled up and floated in the middle of the Ghost Zone while Cujo rested in his arms and leaned into his chest. It should’ve hurt. Cujo was right against the spot where Plasmius shot him, but instead, the pressure felt comfortable, the warmth almost mistakable for the tiny spark of humanity that used to reside there. His eyes closed and he felt strangely exhausted as he relaxed. It was a bad idea to just stop like this in the middle of the Ghost Zone. But Cujo would wake him if something tried to attack, and besides, what else could possibly happen to him at this point? He was already dead. 

And although he thought it was impossible, Danny found himself falling asleep and dreaming of home.

Chapter Text

Three weeks ago, Danny disappeared. 

Three weeks ago, Jazz learned the truth.

Her parents woke her up that morning long before the sun was up, panicked and sobbing as they explained that impossibly, Danny and Phantom were one and the same. Phantom was injured in a ghost attack and Val found him, although Val didn’t know what happened or what ghost was responsible. Val apparently went back out in an attempt to locate the ghost but failed. Her parents tried to help Danny, but he panicked and disappeared seconds after regaining consciousness. 

They debated whether they should call the police and file a missing person’s report. It took until seven a.m. for her Dad to make the call, and an exhausted detective came by shortly after. Detective Marsh listened patiently to her parents as they explained that they waited up all night for Danny to come home. They explained how this was fairly normal for Danny, so they weren’t too worried at first even as he failed to answer their texts and phone calls, but once the sun was coming up it was well outside of the ordinary, even for him.

They did not tell Detective Marsh that Danny was Phantom, or that he might be a word Jazz could not bring herself to use or even think at that moment. But when they started to discuss Danny’s recent academic performance, his struggles at school with his assignments and attendance, the fight with Dash, and how he struggled to maintain relationships with his friends . . . Jazz could see the obvious conclusion dawning and what the detective suspected. It was a waste of time. Her brother didn’t kill himself. He promised her wouldn’t, and she–he wouldn’t. Whatever happened last night, it wasn’t that. She refused to accept it. 

She refused to accept that he might be gone for good.

“We have officers out looking for him now,” said Detective Marsh as he tucked his notebook away. “They’ll check the locations you mentioned. We’ll need to talk to his friends, classmates, and teachers, too. If you receive any word from him, give us a call immediately. Do you have a location tracking app on his phone?”

“No,” said Mom, her voice strained and exhausted, no doubt wishing she had, despite knowing it could have broken what little trust they had, still in the process of rebuilding the bridge over the chasm between them. Jazz genuinely thought they made progress with Danny, that talking to the ghosts was all he was up to, but now? She still couldn’t understand how he could possibly be Phantom and Danny, because Danny wasn’t dead. He wasn’t a ghost.

“Right. We’ll see if we can work with the phone company, but if he’s run away, then he probably ditched it somewhere. It might not help much, but it’ll be a start.”

At least he didn’t actually say the word “suicide.” Not yet. 

Privately, they hoped he was okay ( but how okay could he be if he was already dead? ) and that he would simply come back on his own. From the sound of it, Danny clearly panicked and was probably confused about what happened. She could tell her parents were stung by the idea that Danny might be out there thinking they hurt him, but it was a logical conclusion for Danny to make after everything, especially given what he was. 

They called his friends over, too. Sam, Tucker, and Valerie. Asked if they knew the whole truth. Sam and Tucker shared a long, uncomfortable look before Sam quietly admitted they found out a few days ago when Danny came to them after the fight with Nocturn. They explained that he wasn’t fully dead, that he could switch between being human and ghost, despite how fantastical and impossible it seemed. Her parents puzzled over it, working out an explanation for how it might work that Jazz barely listened to, because at least it meant that Danny wasn’t gone, that he wasn’t little more than a ghost, that there was still a real chance he was alive out there and not lost to them.

Valerie did not know. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her, tears burning in her eyes. Jazz might have considered following her, talking to her or just doing something to make it right, but instead, she sat on the couch, staring at the ground and a cup of bitter coffee in her hands. She despised coffee, but with how little she slept, she needed the caffeine too badly to be particular about it. Danny would tease her about it if he were here, about how she was trying to be an adult when she wasn’t yet, or how she could drink something that actually tasted good instead. Danny would . . .

He would . . .

It took a few days, but Valerie eventually calmed down. She explained she was hurt because she worried she could have hurt him without knowing, wondered if she had hurt him, and Jazz saw the haunted looks in her parents’ eyes, the two of them apparently not considering until just now how much they hunted and likely harmed him as Phantom. She offered to check in spots she found Phantom in the past to see if he might be there since out of all of them she interacted with Danny’s alter ego the most, but so far, she had no luck.

They found his phone about a week after the search began, not far from where Valerie found Phantom, the screen cracked and part of the phone melted. The initial forensic analysis concluded it was probably from an ecto blast, and the police began to worry that perhaps something much more sinister occurred. They weren’t wrong, of course, since Danny was definitely attacked by something that night, but it still didn’t bring them any closer to finding him. 

Jazz could feel herself slipping into an intense depression, going through her days on auto pilot, barely aware of what was happening even as she couldn’t stop dwelling on everything, on how she must have failed him for him to not trust her enough to let her know the truth, about how lonely and terrified and exhausted Danny must have been all this time. For a moment, she allowed herself to ask if they would even have a body to bury, and then she found herself sobbing and throwing up in the bathroom while her Dad hovered over her, rubbing her back and telling her it would all be okay, that Danny was out there and that he would be back soon. She found little comfort in it, knowing her parents didn’t know anymore than she did about what happened to her brother after he vanished from the lab. When the numbness returned afterward, she welcomed it. She didn’t want to keep crying. She wanted to do something, to fix it somehow. 

Tucker and Sam started coming over almost daily with Valerie, trying to get updates, proposing theories. It was almost two weeks before her Uncle Vlad answered her parents’ phone calls and offered to hire a private detective and put money towards the search, too. She didn’t know why it took him so long. Even Sam’s parents stepped up to help ages ago despite disliking her brother, but they knew that Danny and Sam were close friends and even they weren’t heartless. 

Jazz found herself hating Vlad for it, knowing that he had money and connections far beyond what she or her parents did, even as she knew it was irrational because the chances were high that Danny wasn’t in their world anymore. That no amount of money would find him, no matter whose pockets it came from. Thankfully, at least, her parents didn’t tell Vlad the whole truth about Danny. He would hate it if Vlad knew everything, although the man asked once if they thought perhaps a ghost may have targeted him because of his status as a liminal. Her parents assured Vlad that wasn’t the case, but truthfully, none of them knew for sure. They still didn’t know what even attacked him that night.

The strangest and most unnerving piece about his disappearance, though, was the sudden lack of ghost attacks. 

“I haven’t seen any of the usual ghosts since he vanished,” said Valerie as they sat at the table that night eating some takeout from a new Chinese food place. Her parents dropped it off on their way to the police station, where they had another meeting about the search for Danny and the next steps they would be taking. “There have been some animal ghosts, but that’s it. There’s barely been any activity at all, and while I’d usually like the break, I’m worried it means that they’re planning something.”

“Do you think they know what happened to him?” asked Sam as she twirled her noodles around on her chopsticks. She barely touched her food, not feeling overly hungry these days as she worried about Danny. “Do ghosts–do they grieve?”

“Danny would know the answer to that, but at this point, we don’t even know if he’s dead, Sam,” said Tucker. Unlike Sam, he devoured his dinner, seeming to take some comfort in it. “Well, deader than usual, at any rate.”

“If he is–if he died–I’m still not sure that they would,” said Jazz. She doubted, in her heart of hearts, that it was an ‘if’ at this point. Even if Danny thought their parents hurt him, she could not imagine him not trying to check in with her or his friends, at least. “We talked about it a little bit, once, before I knew everything. Not, like, ghosts grieving but how they think about death. He said it’s not the same.”

“Your parents seem clueless about it, too,” added Val as she took a few small bites of some steamed vegetables and fried rice. “But Danny disappearing is the only thing we know of that’s changed. I know you don’t know the ghosts, but do you think he’d want revenge or something? Your parents said he seemed confused, so if Danny or the other ghosts think your parents did this to him, then maybe he’s planning something with them to make them pay for it.”

“Wow, Val. Surprised it took you so long for that old prejudice to start shining through,” said Sam bitterly, stabbing her noodles aggressively. “Oh, Danny’s a ghost, that must mean he’s an evil monster, too, and going to get revenge on everyone now.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” snapped Val. “Just that we don’t know what happened, and from the sound of it, neither did Danny! The Fentons said he completely freaked out when he found them over him, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he might’ve jumped to some pretty ugly conclusions there. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I thought my Dad tried to do something like that to me, no matter whether or not he knew the truth. Can you?”

Jazz considered it for a moment, grateful for the numbness she felt, knowing that if she thought about it for a moment she would only be able to dwell on how she was unable to fix something that was irreparably broken. “I don’t think he would, honestly, but some of the ghosts do care about him,” said Jazz, “and if they thought Mom and Dad did something to him, they might plan something with or without Danny.”

She left out the part where Danny might not exist anymore. That her parents quietly mentioned the high possibility that he de-stabilized, given what little information they had prior to him vanishing pointed to that being his likely fate. The fact that Sam and Tucker couldn’t summon him, either, made it a depressingly likely possibility since she couldn’t imagine Danny ignoring them. She felt the faintest flutter in her stomach, an urge to cry and vomit and scream,  and she pushed it down hard as she set her food aside. She could not allow herself to feel right now. There would be time to process it later, once they were sure they knew what happened to him. 

“Maybe we should try to go to the Ghost Zone,” suggested Sam. “The police have looked everywhere else, and Tucker and I already tried summoning Danny and it didn’t work. What else is even left at this point?”

“Mom and Dad are worried about getting lost or stuck there, which wouldn’t help anyone even if he is in the Ghost Zone,” said Jazz. “They’ve been trying for months to map it, but it doesn’t stay constant. It shifts endlessly. And while the air seems breathable, there’s a lot of free-floating ectoplasm. Without proper protection, it could cause radiation poisoning or other health problems due to ecto contamination.”

“I could do it,” offered Valerie. “I’ve been once before and managed to find the portal again thanks to the upgrades Technus accidentally made to my suit. We might not be able to find Danny, but I could find the other ghosts.”

“And the ecto contamination?” 

“I’m already ecto contaminated. I’ve literally got ectoplasm powered nanobots in my bloodstream,” she said. “But if you’re worried about it, I can keep the suit on. As long as I do, it should be fine” Silently, Jazz wondered how Valerie could know that for sure. A tiny part of her worried about what she said, too, about being ecto contaminated, and she felt like maybe her parents should check Valerie out, make sure she didn’t have cancer or something else that she was completely unaware of. She doubted Valerie would agree to it, though, since if she did she suspected they would tell her she needed to stop using the suit and hunting ghosts. 

“You shouldn’t go alone, Val,” said Tucker. “There are still a lot of dangerous ghosts in there that have a whole bunch of reasons to hold a grudge against you.”

“My parents have the specter speeder. We could follow Val in it. It would keep us safe from the ecto contamination, and it can outrun just about any ghost.” It was a bad plan. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many ways they could get hurt, and like the summoning before, they were rushing headfirst into this without really thinking it through. 

Jazz didn’t care. At this point, she would do anything to find her brother.

“Should we wait for your parents?” She could hear the undercurrent there, the question of whether or not this was really what they should be doing even as Tucker said it. 

“I’d rather not. I think Mom and Dad would second guess Val’s tech a lot more than we are, and if Danny does think they hurt him, then he might not be willing to talk to us if they’re with him,” said Jazz. Maybe. It would be smarter to talk to them about it, at least, and she even promised before that she wouldn’t do something this rash again. But she didn’t want her parents to talk them out of it, and she knew they would, or that they might not let her or Sam or Tucker go with them even if they did agree. “But I trust Val’s judgment more here. They’ve been wrong about so much, and Val–you’re probably a better ghost hunter than they ever were.”

“Harsh,” whispered Sam. “But probably true. So what do we need?”

They quickly finished dinner and headed down into the lab. Jazz grabbed what supplies she could - a couple of thermoses, a few earpieces that would allow them to communicate and that could help filter out certain types of ghost noise, the Fenton Fisher and the Fenton Peeler, and some ecto-blasters. The massive ecto skeleton sat on the side of the basement. Her parents started working on it again, seeking a distraction as they worried about Danny and whatever ghost hurt him and its potential power, but they still hadn’t figured out the power supply issue and it was too big to fit on the speeder with the rest of them onboard, anyway.

She debated quietly whether she should leave a message for her parents or not, and after a few minutes of waffling about it, she picked up a pen and scribbled a quick note to let them know where they went and that they should be back soon. She didn’t want them to have another child disappear without any explanation if something went wrong. 

“Ready?” she asked as Valerie shifted into her suit. She, Tucker, and Sam sat in the speeder, with Sam buckled into the back while she and Tucker took the helm. 

“Should be,” said Tucker as he put down the manual. “They kept the controls pretty straightforward. There’s a bunch of more complex equipment here designed for doing research, but we won’t need that.”

“I’m good to go,” said Val, her voice coming through the earpieces loud and clear, and Jazz watched as she passed through the portal and into the Ghost Zone without even a hint of hesitation.

“We don’t want to lose her,” she said, and Tucker nodded as he swallowed, his hands shaking as he steered the vehicle through the portal and then came to an abrupt halt. “Whoa.”

The world that met her was awash in endless green. Scattered in the distance she could make out faint, purple doors and what looked like floating islands, and far beneath them, she could see black, broken stones and white bones glowing faintly. “Don’t go near the doors or the ground beneath us, if you can help it,” suggested Valerie. “The doors are gateways to different ghosts’ lairs. They react really badly if you try to go inside.”

“And the ground?”

“Skeletons. They’ll try to drag you down. I don’t want to know what’s beneath it,” she said, and Jazz shuddered. “Most of the islands are okay, though, if we do need to land in an emergency. They seemed like they were mostly inhabited by pretty weak ghosts, and the ones that are the homes to more powerful ghosts are pretty obvious. Like, think of giant skulls and crossbones and stuff.”

“Why don’t you lead the way?” suggested Tucker. 

“Will do. Let me know if you see something before I do.” 

They sat in silence, the time ticking by endlessly as Tucker pushed the speeder through the zone slowly behind Valerie while Sam sat in the back and quietly flipped through the manual Tucker discarded. Jazz kept watch, hoping to spot someone or something that might help them, but so far she saw nothing but empty islands and doors. “Maybe we should’ve just tried summoning a ghost,” she mumbled, staring through the glass. 

“We could have, but we seem pretty bad at it, and I doubt any of them would respond to us if they didn’t have to,” said Tucker. “I’m really, really hoping we missed something obvious with it. I can’t imagine Danny not responding to us. He knew that Sam and I knew what happened, that we weren’t–aren’t–y’know.”

“Complicit?” muttered Sam. “What? Much as I hate to admit it, Val had a point, okay? Danny really might not know that your parents didn’t hurt him.”

“But if he couldn’t tell who was calling him, then maybe he just wouldn’t come.” She was not ready to give up on Danny. Not yet. “I don’t know if he knows or not, when it happens. We–I never asked.”

“Me, neither, so I guess it’s possible.” Tucker seemed unconvinced, but at least he wasn’t willing to argue it with her more than that, and then he squinted before tapping his earpiece. “Hey, Val?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that a castle up ahead?” Sam looked up for a moment, unbuckling her seat belt to come and take a closer look through the windshield, as Jazz tried to see what Tucker had spotted. 

“Yup. There will be ghosts there, but they might not be friendly and they’ll probably be pretty powerful, too. Want to check it out or look for someone else?”

“I don’t think we have a lot of options. We’ve already been driving for almost an hour,” sighed Jazz. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear the Ghost Zone was changing itself around deliberately to keep them from finding anyone, let alone Danny. “Let’s go in slow. Maybe, um, fly a white flag or something?”

“Did you bring a white flag?” asked Val pointedly.

“No.” She glanced around to see if there was anything in the Specter Speeder they could use, but nothing stood out, and who knew if ghosts respected that kind of signal? Danny, maybe, but he wasn’t here, and yet again Jazz found herself regretting not asking him more questions about the ghosts when she had the chance. 

“Right.” 

It was another twenty minutes or so before they finally made it to the outskirts of the island, and before they could figure out if they were going to land or not they were approached by a pair of seemingly identical ghosts in plate mail, their spears held out in front of them. “Halt,” commanded the one on the left. “Ghost hunters are not welcome in my lady’s kingdom. You will need to turn away from this place.”

Jazz pushed a button on the dashboard and then spoke into a small microphone. “We’re not ghost hunters. Well, not most of us. Val’s just escorting us through here, she’s not looking to hurt anyone.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My name is Jazz Fenton. I’m looking for my brother, Danny.”

The ghosts whispered to each other for a moment, and the one that spoke before lifted his visor as he pulled his spear back, his red eyes focused intently on her. “You are Sir Phantom’s sister?”

“Danny got knighted? When?” wondered Tucker, and Jazz wanted to scream. None of that mattered at all, but apparently, Tucker’s voice carried through the speaker since the ghost answered him.

“When he aided our Queen in her efforts to reclaim the throne that was hers by right,” he said. “She honored him and offered him a place here, which he refused. How do you not know of your brother’s conquests? Do they not sing songs of his deeds?”

“Not unless bad TikToks about Phantom count,” whispered Sam, but thankfully the mic didn’t pick it up this time, or if it did the ghosts didn’t bother to respond.

“Uh, no, he kind of kept a lot of his, um, quests secret,” sputtered Jazz. “Is he here now? Can we see him?”

“He is not here.” Jazz felt her stomach drop. Of course not. It was incredibly unlikely for him to be in the first place they looked. 

“Do you know where he went?” she asked.

They whispered to each other again for a moment while Valerie sighed and sat down on her hoverboard, letting her leg swing slowly over the edge. To a casual observer she might look bored, but Jazz could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was ready to react in a moment’s notice if the ghosts started to attack. “I will get the Queen.”

“That’s not necessary, I–well, never mind.” The ghost had already flown off, leaving the other knight behind. She took her finger off the comm button. “That’s probably not good, huh?”

“They’re not shooting so far,” said Tucker. “I consider that pretty great, actually. And I’m not really worried about a queen, especially if she was friends with Danny.”

“She was strong enough to overthrow someone, or at least charismatic enough to convince powerful ghosts to help her do it,” said Sam. “Feels like a mistake to not worry about her a little bit even if she and Danny were on good terms.”

“Sam’s right,” whispered Val. “I wouldn’t underestimate her or anyone else we meet here.”

“Do you know anything about her at all?” Val shook her head, and after a few minutes, Jazz saw the ghost returning from the castle, a woman at his side. She was dressed in a flowing blue gown and had long blond hair that was carefully braided. A golden crown with delicate, red gemstones sat upon her head and there was a brilliant, green emerald fastened around her neck on a gold chain.

“Maybe you should bow or curtsey or something?” suggested Jazz, and she heard Val grumble as she scrambled to her feet and gave the approaching ghost queen a sweeping bow. 

“My knights have informed me that you are seeking Sir Phantom,” she said coolly, her red eyes locked on Jazz. “Have humans fallen so far that they have forgotten all traditions?”

“I—I’m sorry?” she stuttered as she pushed the button to speak. “What traditions?”

She felt like nothing so much as a bug beneath the queen’s heel when she spoke once more. “The living should not seek to reunite with the dead.”

“Um, but, Danny’s not dead,” said Tucker quickly. “I mean, we know he can be, like, ghostly sometimes, but he’s not actually a full ghost or fully dead or whatever. He’s a liminal, so doesn’t that mean that rule wouldn’t apply? Maybe?”

“Are you unaware?” She watched them through the window, her expression softening, and Jazz felt her world crash down around her before the ghost even finished speaking, knowing precisely what was coming. “I am sorry, then, that it must be I who informs you of your brother’s passing. I welcomed him to the Infinite Realms with the others after he was struck down in battle.”

“But–that’s not–he can’t–he’s a liminal,” Jazz stuttered out as she gripped the arm of her chair while pushing down so hard on the button with her finger that she thought it might break. “He’s not–he’s not dead, okay?!”

“Jazz . . .” Sam walked over, putting a hand on her shoulder, but she swatted it away, the grief and anger and denial bubbling up after she spent so much time suppressing it, and she could feel the dam about to burst.

“He is a liminal no longer by his own admission,” said the queen. “I know it may provide little comfort to you in your time of grief, but he has been welcomed by those of us in this world. Your brother was kind to us before his passing and well-beloved. I and the other leaders in the Infinite Realms called a temporary peace in his honor with the living world. We could think of no more fitting tribute to him.”

“That’s why the ghost attacks stopped?” asked Val. No revenge quests, no desire to lead an army of ghosts against their parents. Apparently they did grieve, in their own way, despite death not having the same meaning to them as it did to humans. She should feel relieved, but she felt empty, barely holding back her tears now. “How long will this peace last?”

“It ends tonight,” she said. “We will not do more.”

“Why not?” 

“Our nature is such that for many the satisfaction of their obsession may only be obtained in excursions to your world, and where we go, the ghost hunters follow, no matter our intentions,” she said, staring coldly at Valerie, and she saw Val look away for a moment in shame.

“But Danny–I can’t–can’t I at least say goodbye?” Jazz whispered as the first few tears leaked through despite her best efforts to hold them back. “Can’t my parents–can’t we–please?” 

“I am sorry, but it would be unwise,” she said. “The transition to becoming one of our kind in truth is a hard one, and this time period is crucial in defining who your brother will be for the centuries to come. Lingering amongst the living can cause pain that would almost certainly warp him, twist him into something you would not want him to become as he became obsessed with reclaiming a life that he can no longer have. And you, as the survivors, would watch as he grew to be someone so far from who you knew and remembered and cherished that it would poison you slowly.”

“But a quick goodbye can’t–” began Jazz, but the Queen waved a hand, cutting her off.

“No. I have seen what becomes of even a small overstep with respect to this tradition. I will not assist you in this, and if you truly love your brother, then you will leave him be. But–” She glanced at her knights for a moment, smiling viciously, and Jazz could swear she saw fangs amongst her perfect teeth. “--you have not been sworn against pursuing justice. While we have made our realm hostile to your brother’s killer, we and most of the others promised Sir Phantom that we would not actively seek revenge against him.”

“You know who did this?” said Val, her fingers going to her blaster at her side on instinct. One of the knights flinched, his own weapon shifting slightly as he prepared to defend against Val’s perceived attack, but thankfully Val noticed and released her weapon, the knight doing the same once he saw she didn’t intend to hurt them. 

“But of course,” she said. “He is incredibly dangerous and powerful. I suspect your brother’s desire that we do not actively seek revenge against the one that felled him is more out of concern for our well-being rather than any sense of forgiveness.”

“Tell us who,” demanded Jazz. She was not one for retribution, for continuing endless cycles of violence, but she would make an exception for the ghost who murdered Danny. Whatever creature did this to him would suffer brutally for it.

“His name is Plasmius,” said Jazz, and she saw Tucker and Sam glance at each other, Sam’s hands going up to her mouth. They knew. They knew this ghost, didn’t they? “You know of him?”

“He’s a liminal,” said Sam as Jazz stared at her. Why hadn’t they told anyone about such a dangerous ghost, especially when they knew Danny was missing? It was a stupid, irrational thought. They didn’t know it would matter, of course, just as nobody else knew who killed Danny that night, and no doubt Danny had dozens of powerful enemies, but she could not help the irrational anger bubbling inside of her. “Like Danny is . . . was. I don’t . . . shit. Shit. We need to get back right away. This is bad. Like really, really bad.”

“Sam’s right,” insisted Tucker, his hands shaking. “Jazz? Val?”

“Thank you,” said Val. “We’ll definitely make sure he pays.”

“Um, yeah, let’s go, but, um . . . if you see my brother again, can you please at least tell him that we love him?” asked Jazz, her voice cracking. “That we know, and it’s–that I wish we could have told him we accepted him and loved him when he was still here, too, but–but–please?”

“If I see him, I will pass along your message, but from how highly he has spoken of all of you, I have no doubt he knows the truth,”  she promised, and as they turned away Jazz curled up on herself in her chair and burst into tears. She didn’t notice Sam lean over and hold her until they were almost back, didn’t notice the others crying, too, and when they returned to the lab, their parents were there waiting, anxious, and worried about her. They didn’t know about Danny, though. She had to tell them. She knew she had to tell them, but she couldn’t get the words out.

But it was Val who spoke up instead, and Jazz wondered if she was made of iron or simply viewed death differently given the ghost hunting. “The ghosts haven’t been attacking because they called some kind of truce,” she began, “in Danny’s honor. He–he didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

Her parents held each other tightly, then, clearly having suspected as much from the start. They had witnessed firsthand how bad Danny’s condition was, and Jazz could see their tears starting up. She personally felt hollowed out. Empty. Done. She didn’t know if she should take solace in the fact that at least he hadn’t destabilized, too. Did Danny even like being a ghost?

“We know who did it, too,” added Val. “It’s a ghost named Plasmius. I haven’t fought him before- have you?” Her parents shook their heads, but she wasn’t surprised. Jazz didn’t recognize the name, either. Yet another thing from Danny’s life she knew nothing about and probably never would, except his friends recognized it, didn’t they? The name? They said he was a liminal.

“You do know him, though. Danny said you call him the Wisconsin Ghost,” said Tucker. 

Her eyes widened. That name she recognized all too well. The vampire-like ghost had attempted to kill her father and almost succeeded at the reunion at Vlad’s mansion. It was sheer luck he hadn’t, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Danny did something to stop him, back then, without them even realizing it.

“But he’s not just a ghost,” added Sam. “He’s a liminal, like Danny, and . . . look, I know this is going to sound completely nuts, but it’s the truth, okay? We heard this from Danny himself, before he–before he died.” The word stuck in her like a dagger, and although she didn’t think she could cry anymore, she felt her chest ache and the tears began to gather again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fenton, too. I know you think he’s your friend, but he’s not. Danny says he’s hated you for years, ever since his portal accident in college.”

Oh.

Oh.

“It’s Vlad Masters, isn’t it?” said Jazz, the name shattering the air like glass, and then Valerie turned away and barely made it two steps before she started puking.

Chapter Text

Vlad Masters prided himself on being logical, careful, and patient. He had founded multiple companies, acquired dozens of subsidiaries, and spent the last two decades carefully crafting his persona as a billionaire philanthropist. He knew that there were those who disliked billionaires as a matter of course - they were not worth his efforts - but countless others viewed him with admiration, trust, and envy.

He loved it, of course, but the hollowness remained.

His accident in college was both a blessing and a curse. It lost him the love of his life and the chance at the family that so rightfully should have been his. He tried, initially, to move past it, growing in fame and fortune and acclaim, but he could not forget the pain caused by Jack Fenton. The occasional card he received in the mail with a picture of Jack and his dearest Maddie along with their two children rubbed salt in a wound that would not close.

He tried to ignore it, to pretend as if they simply did not exist as he continued to quietly make a name for himself in both worlds. He used his abilities to force the ghosts he encountered into submission, convincing them to either work beside him or retreat in terror. He was, quite simply, unstoppable, yet his conquests and unique abilities made for a rather lonely existence that he was increasingly realizing he could no longer tolerate.  

He delved into research, studying and learning as much as he could, eventually discovering Dr. Alyce Winter’s preliminary work on liminals, but even learning the truth of what he was proved disappointing. Liminals were rare, created when sufficient ectoplasm was present at the moment of near death. The heart needed to stop, the lungs needed to cease their breathing, if only for a second for one to be created. Dr. Winter’s research was still in the early stages, yet he could not risk her learning more about liminals and potentially discovering him in turn. So he pushed her to abandon the research as he sought out the ones she had discovered. Most of them were weak, either using their powers for pathetic purposes or so crippled by encountering another realm outside their experience that they were driven to madness. But when several recognized him immediately for precisely what he was, he realized his empire was at stake, the threat too real.

Let it not be said that he was not kind to them, for he always offered them a choice: join him or suffer the consequences.

Most refused his entreaty and found themselves suffering from various, tragic accidents that could have been avoided. Others agreed, but as he experimented on them to see if he could create another that would be his equal, his friend, or perhaps even his family, they failed to achieve the same, glorious potential, wasting away to nothing due to ectoplasmic radiation poisoning. 

Vlad began to accept that his existence was unique until he heard about poor young Daniel Fenton, whose father injured him in a rather nasty little accident with his portal, who ended up in the hospital for several weeks, and who continued to suffer symptoms eerily similar to his own. 

He would need to tread carefully, of course. Vlad could not simply rush in overnight, and despite the similarities, there was no guarantee that the boy would be as brilliant as he himself was. There was every possibility that he was not a liminal, or that if he was, then he lacked the power and potential that Vlad held. Perhaps Vlad was both blessed and doomed to be unique. 

He orchestrated the reunion as a way to try to discern the boy’s potential. College reunions were quite gauche, but the pretext worked well enough to summon the Fentons and their children to his home. His dear Maddie had aged like the finest wine, only glowing and more perfect in her later years. Her daughter was a similar gem, a brilliantly shining star bristling with potential, and he momentarily regretted that she was not the one to experience the lab accident as she would no doubt have been spectacular if gifted with abilities that mirrored his own.

And Jack . . . he did not expect his fury to be so intense at the mere sight of the man, but if nothing else, perhaps he could use his rage to his advantage. He did not originally plan to kill Jack, per se, when he arrived with his family. It would bring too much negative attention to Vlad for a father of two teenagers to die in his home, no matter how carefully he disguised it as an unfortunate accident. But a threat to Jack’s life, particularly one of the supernatural variety, might cause the boy to reveal himself. 

Vlad was not terribly impressed with the boy. Daniel was quiet and dull, spending most of his time in a corner texting and playing video games on his phone, indulging in nothing but the most mind-rotting nonsense. Nothing about the child seemed to indicate a supernatural awareness. When the Dairy King that shared Vlad’s castle passed within a few feet of him and his family, Jazz responded with shock and awe, her parents with their insatiable desire to capture and research the specimen, and Daniel flinched away, cowering in terror from perhaps the most benign, powerless specter in existence. What an utter disappointment. 

Still, Vlad knew it might be an act, and so he made an appearance as Plasmius, threatening Daniel’s family, and the boy retreated to their ridiculous vehicle while his parents and sister fought him off. He sent a clone, expecting to see Daniel transform now that he was isolated from the rest of the Fentons, cornering him in private and telling him at length how he would kill his father and take Maddie at long last for himself, but the boy simply screamed and knocked himself unconscious in his efforts to escape. If Vlad had an ounce of empathy, he might have been embarrassed for the boy, but instead, he was disgusted. Vlad wanted nothing to do with Daniel. It would be best to eliminate him alongside his father when the time finally came, and Vlad allowed his alter ego to be defeated by Jack for now. 

And for a time, he forgot about the child, focusing instead on what to do next, what more power he could attain, what final conquest might make Maddie fall in love with him and see that only he was worthy of being at her side. 

He hired Skulker to steal some technology for him along with some additional research from the government’s Ghost Investigation Ward. He spied on Amity Park, noting the rise of the odd ghost Phantom, who fought against his own kind to protect humanity but whose identity was a mystery. He gave tools and equipment to Valerie Gray so that she might seek vengeance and capture some of the more unusual specimens that arose, and so that he could watch for signs of any other liminals. With all of the ectoplasmic energy in Amity Park and the danger from the attacks, surely another like himself would eventually be created. 

And then he began to hear rumors of Daniel, the cowardly, sniveling child, quietly confronting the ghosts. “What do you know of Daniel Fenton?” he asked Skulker as the ghost dropped off a zip drive with some research. 

“He’s a fool, mostly,” said Skulker, “but kind and oddly endearing. He approaches all of us at some point, trying to find non-violent paths for our obsessions.” Obsessions. A madness that did not afflict him, at least. “But even if we refuse to play along, he still helps us. I know the whelp helped Ember and several others escape from his parents.”

The image was jarring, not remotely matching his mental image of the pathetic child from the reunion. It could not be the same boy. But he found himself going to Amity Park more directly, visiting the Fentons under the guise of trying to rekindle their friendship, all while keeping a close eye on Daniel.  

Sullen. Quiet. A poor student. But the more Vlad made himself present in the Fentons' lives, the harder it became for Daniel to hide that there was more to him than there appeared to be on the surface. Vlad remained unconvinced he was a liminal, but there was indeed something peculiar about the boy, and then he obtained the evidence he needed, the possible key to everything, quite by accident. 

It was security footage of a fight with a powerful ghost, one of the Ancients from deep within the Ghost Zone that Vlad previously believed to be little more than a myth: Nocturn. The ghost was defeated, apparently by Phantom. It seemed quite improbable to Vlad that a young specter like Phantom could overcome an ancient spirit like Nocturn, and all over town there were stories of a horrifying, echoing wail, a scream that shook the buildings and woke the sleepers, which was not a power held by any ghost Vlad knew. He watched as the battle escalated on the footage, as Phantom was put to sleep, and then as Valerie arrived. He watched as ice crept across Phantom’s suit and shattered it, revealing a rather odd creature beneath that could easily be Nocturn’s brother if ghosts or spirits had such things. And then the scream, the sight of an impossibly horrifying and large mouth that was more monstrous than not, and Nocturn was defeated. 

The ghost on screen was a massive potential threat, holding a power unlike any other. Vlad had yet to encounter one whose raw power alone might make them his equal when pitted against his own experience and finesse and strategy, and yet here it was. But more than anything he saw or watched was what he heard. 

Liminal child. 

Most of their conversation was consumed in static, utterly worthless, but those few words were clear to Vlad and, as he watched, made a perfect sort of sense. Phantom was a young ghost, from what he knew from his contacts in the Ghost Zone, and his power was far beyond the levels he should be able to achieve at this point in his development unless he were like Vlad. A liminal. 

The likelihood that it was Daniel Fenton was high, of course. Phantom wore a Hazmat suit not unlike the old ones his parents used to keep and still used occasionally for more dangerous lab work. He only first became known about a year and a half ago, not long after Daniel’s own portal accident. The pieces were lining up nicely, but Vlad wanted to confirm it if possible before he moved.

He planned, then, carefully as always. Made an announcement about a large public gift from his private foundation to the recovery effort, scheduled a meeting with the mayor to discuss the specific allocation of his funds, and called dear Jack and Maddie to request a visit to make sure they were okay, he was so terribly worried after all. Sweet Maddie agreed, of course, but when he arrived at dinner, Daniel was not there. Out with friends, apparently. 

Vlad hid his disappointment. There would be another opportunity to confirm his suspicions, he did not doubt it, and then of all things, the bumbling oaf revealed the truth. That their son, Daniel, was a liminal. And everything slid into place, so perfectly that Vlad found himself almost believing in fate. 

He should wait to approach him, of course, but this close to another that was truly like him, that could understand him and that would be thrilled at the prospect of a mentor such as himself . . . He did not want to be alone, and in a rare moment of impatience, he feigned an urgent text from the mayor and excused himself, seeking out the boy.

He found him faster than he anticipated. He was fighting some other ghost as Phantom, and when Vlad approached he could tell the boy was immediately suspicious of him. No matter. He waited over twenty years, and he gave him quite the excellent pitch, having practiced various versions of it in the past with the others that all failed to live up to his expectations.

“You would not need to be alone, not with me. I am the only one who could possibly understand you and accept you, dear boy,” he finished. “I am the only one that can see you for who you truly are. Join me, Daniel, and I can be your teacher, your mentor, your guide–”

“--my father?” finished Daniel, static crackling over his radio. “I have one, thanks. And plenty of teachers. I don’t need a narcissistic creep for a mentor. If I did, I would’ve asked you when I figured out what you were over a year ago.”

His rage filled him, but Vlad tried to push past it. The boy was young, naive, and an idealist. He simply did not understand. “Your family will reject you if they see what’s beneath that suit. A ghost that is the perfect embodiment of the monsters of their worst nightmares, child.” The boy flinched, then. Good. Perhaps he was beginning to understand. “Your father will shoot you down, your mother will dissect you. Your friends will abandon you when they see the truth.”

“My friends have seen it,” said Daniel. “And they haven’t abandoned me - they saved me. So the answer is no, Plasmius. It will always be no.”

“Daniel, that–”

“--I get it, okay?” he interrupted, eyes full of pity, and Vlad loathed the way the child gazed upon him. “I can see it in you - the hollowness, the emptiness, the just longing and hope that there will be some way you can fill it. But you can’t fix it by killing my father. My mother will never love you. Jazz will never be your daughter. And I’ll never be your son. So get lost, Plasmius.”

He reacted poorly, then, his carefully restrained temper rearing forth as Daniel began to detransform and turn away from him, and before the boy could so much as blink he fired a powerful, focused ectoblast at Daniel’s core. 

Daniel’s eyes went wide in shock as it struck him, piercing right through his chest and his suit a hair to the left of where Vlad intended, but no matter. He watched as the boy collapsed, his transformation halting and snapping back as he forcibly retreated into his ghostly form, ectoplasm spilling from the suit, and if Daniel survived then perhaps this would be a lesson to him to not refuse Vlad again. And if he did not, well, then, it was no real loss, of course. Vlad had been alone for many years. He was used to disappointment.

“Impudent brat,” he hissed, teleporting back to his home, the child’s insinuations digging in under his skin. How dare the child presume to know him or what he wanted?

He tried to focus on his businesses and ignore the Fentons. Bringing them back into his life had been a mistake. He could see that now. Daniel was his father’s son, always would be, and Maddie was too brainwashed to know how much her life was wasted beside them. No doubt Jasmine suffered from the worst impulses of her father, too. The whole family line was poison, a tree with fruit not worth taking. He would forget about them, move past it and seek a new path, a new goal, a new dream. 

Vlad did not anticipate, however, how far Daniel’s reach extended. 

He sent a message to Skulker after a few days, hoping to hire him for another job, only to receive a curt response in return from the ghost that had been his to command for years. Frustrated, Vlad sought out the creature, but Skulker refused to budge.

“You murdered a child , Plasmius,” Skulker replied, and it was only then that Vlad learned of Daniel’s demise. The Fentons left him messages about the boy being missing, and he assumed he was hiding while he recovered but did not care. It was not his concern. The boy was even more of a disappointment than he realized, then, if he could not overcome such a trivial wound. It was for the best that Daniel was dead. “I swore to what remains of him that I won’t work for you again.”

“You hunted him before, when he was Phantom–”

“--I didn’t know,” said Skulker. “But you did, according to the whelp. Consider this a warning, Plasmius, out of respect for the work we’ve done together: Daniel was well beloved by the ghosts. We won’t take kindly to what you’ve done.”

He lost his temper then, smashing Skulker’s suit and leaving the tiny blob ghost to float alone in the Ghost Zone. Despicable creatures, ghosts. Always so traitorous. But he doubted that Daniel’s influence was quite as strong as Skulker intimated, at least until he was attacked again.

It was some punks on motorcycles he vaguely recognized from Amity Park, their power levels so pathetic compared to his own that they were barely worth his attention. He dispensed with them with ease, but they were not alone. The attacks continued despite, as he learned, the temporary truce enacted by the handful of rulers in the zone in honor of a spoiled, short-sighted brat. Apparently that truce did not extend to him, if the constant battles were any indication. 

The ghosts, he knew, would move on eventually. Their anger over his attack and their love for Daniel could not sustain this indefinitely. But it made going into the Ghost Zone exhausting, the ghosts constantly putting themselves in his path and attacking him, and so after several weeks, he determined that a pause in his ventures within the Ghost Zone would be appropriate. Perhaps another few weeks and it would pass.

The Fentons called again and again, and although he owed them nothing, he eventually sent a private detective and some funds to aid in the search. It was expected, the appropriate move for an old friend and philanthropist like himself, and would help deflect any possibility that someone might look in his direction as the source of Daniel’s demise (or disappearance, as they still believed it to be).

And just as he thought perhaps things were calming down, the Ghost Investigation Ward came knocking on his door.

“What can I do for you two gentlemen this evening?” he said as his butler led them inside. They would not be permitted past the foyer, of course, but until he knew their intentions it paid to be polite.

“We’ve received intelligence that you are suffering from dangerous levels of ecto-contamination,” replied one of them - Agent K, he thought, but he barely paid the specific agents of the bureau any mind, the men largely interchangeable and faceless drones. “We will need to quarantine you and decontaminate you and this household immediately.”

“Ah, I see. That would be rather unfortunate if true, but clearly, I am in perfect health, as my lawyer will attest to,” he said. “And you will not be speaking to anyone but him going forward.”

“We have broad authority under the Anti-Ecto Control Act of–”

“--my lawyer, gentlemen,” he said, handing them a card as he nodded to his butler. “Please show them out.” 

He could feel his eyes burning as he walked away and up the stairs. He never lost control, not over something trivial like this, not since he first had his powers. It felt shameful, disgraceful, but no doubt it was simply a result of the intense pressure he was under. His lawyer would handle the GIW, no doubt. But then the calls came from his law firm, explaining that while they would fight it and his right to his privacy and personal decision-making authority with respect to his health, there was still a small chance he would need to go through the decontamination process due to the broad authority given to the GIW under the current law. The best they could guarantee was that they could stall it, and maybe Vlad could quietly lobby to have some of the current laws shifted. 

He planned to begin calling his political contacts, but the story made the news by far more quickly than he imagined it would. He found his business partners reluctant to take his calls as stories came out from folks thrilled at the suspicion leveled at Vlad Masters, talking about how they believed they may have been drugged or forced to consent to the sale of their stocks or companies against their will. Utter nonsense, of course, he only overshadowed a dozen or so individuals over the years, the rest of his conquests won fairly, but that did not stop the charlatans from coming out of the woodwork.

And then the son of one of his employees published a foolish TikTok video about how Vlad was actually possessed, claiming he saw the signs at a conference, once, including a brief flash of red light in his eyes that Vlad knew couldn’t be real, he had never lost control like that in public, but still it spread like wildfire. Most of the world dismissed it - outside of Amity Park and the central US, ghosts were still largely children’s stories - but the gentlemen from the GIW became more overzealous, insisting now that they needed access to all of his phone calls, texts, financials, and business agreements, and his law firm began to suggest politely that perhaps submitting to at least a scan would cause all of this to quietly blow over. 

He considered a tactical retreat overseas, but naturally, his lawyers also suggested he remain in the country, that fleeing during an active investigation and while there was a case pending against him would only make the rumors stronger. They did not believe, of course, that he was possessed or anything of the sort. But perhaps that scan or decontamination procedure, at least? If he did that much, they could certainly find a way to exempt his household and belongings from the GIW inquiry and get the other parts of the rapidly evolving court case against him if the scan and decontamination procedure came back without any issues.

In a moment of uncertainty, he found himself calling the Fentons. “I’m sorry, Vlad, but we’re busy looking for Danny. We could always do the decontamination procedure for you if you’d prefer to go through friends instead. We’re authorized by the GIW to conduct them.”

“That will not be necessary, my dear,” he said, slamming the phone down on the receiver, and it shattered to pieces beneath his hand as he loosed a small ecto blast and poured himself a drink, downing it rapidly. 

This could not be a coincidence, of course. Someone had pieced it together, but the Fentons seemed oblivious so far. He could not imagine Maddie or Jack being quite so polite if they knew the truth. Daniel’s little friends, then? Had not Daniel claimed that they knew the truth about his ghostly nature and accepted him? He knew the one, Samantha, from functions with her parents. But even if it was Samantha and the other child, what could he do? The pair would likely have some type of plan in place, some contingencies just in case he made a move against them now, and Samantha was too high profile to move against, her disappearance or demise the sort that no one would ever believe could simply be an accident. No doubt they heard the full truth of what he was from Daniel before the boy’s death. He couldn’t act against them without drawing suspicion. At least, not yet. 

He tried to retreat to the Ghost Zone, frustrated by the proceedings in the human world and seeking a victory wherever he could take it, but found himself besieged almost immediately, the ghosts continuing to maintain their attacks against him even now, despite it being weeks since Daniel passed. He dealt with them easily, but he would need a plan to manage the ghosts more effectively if they were going to continue to watch his portal and remain hostile to him. Was there not some way he could force the ghosts to comply, at least? 

Storming back into his lab, he grabbed a few books that Skulker picked up ages ago but that he discarded, deeming the prospects too risky. But at this point, he needed at least one world under his control, one place where he could be at peace, and the Ghost Zone offered a pathway that the Earth currently lacked. 

The Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage would be hard to obtain, but if he managed it, they would grant him a power untold and the ghosts would be forced to obey his commands. He had no doubt that he could easily control both artifacts despite the warnings in the ancient texts. There was a minor note about seizing power by defeating the prior king, but it would be easy enough to manage. Pariah lay asleep in his sarcophagus. He would be no match for Vlad while so helpless, and the ancient laws of the Ghost Zone cared little for tactics that would be deemed dishonorable by ordinary humans dismayed at their own lack of power and control.

If the only option was to be a King, then a King he would be. 

Chapter Text

Sam sat in class and doodled in the margins as Mr. Lancer droned on and on, trying to review a semester’s worth of material in their last week of classes before finals. With Danny still “missing” and the ghost attacks picking up again, she and most of her classmates hoped that the teachers would at least go easy on them this year and show some compassion, but there was little evidence of that so far as they prepared for exams.

She glanced over at the empty seat beside her, a tiny memorial to Danny constructed there by some of the A-Listers (minus Dash, of course, who mostly talked about how Danny deserved whatever happened to him until Val threatened to ruin his other arm if he didn’t shove it). The first time she walked in and saw it, she almost tore it up in rage, disgusted that the people who spent the better part of two years tormenting Danny were now using him as a prop to get their five minutes of fame as they gave interviews with reporters and influencers alike. Half the things they claimed about Danny weren’t even true! They knew so little about him it was laughable, sometimes going so far as to actively contradict themselves in the same interview. As the weeks wore on, though, it became old news, the story an occasional blip on a slow night.

Despite everything he did for them, for all of them, the world did not care that much about Danny Fenton.

She and Val and Tucker, though, avoided interviews as much as possible, worried they would get caught in the lie as they were forced to pretend Danny was merely missing when he was actually dead. The poor Fentons, though . . . at least the school let Jazz graduate early. Danny’s sister alternated between being either completely shut down or sobbing. Danny’s Dad was a shadow of his former self, seeming impossibly small whenever Sam interacted with him these days, and his mom was filled with an intense, quiet rage as she worked with Val and they coldly calculated the best ways to torture the man that murdered Danny.

For her part, Sam mostly felt guilty. She wished they hadn’t let him walk home alone that afternoon through the park. She wished they figured things out sooner so maybe they could have helped Danny more, somehow. The exhaustion and isolation and terror he felt each day, thinking that she and the others would give up on him if they knew the truth, stung, making a flash of anger burn through her that fizzled as she forced herself to acknowledge that he had a right to be scared, that she never really did manage to accept him fully when they learned what he was, that she . . . that maybe she was not half as good a friend as she believed. That she could have, and should have, done more for him. 

Her eyes burned and she bit her lip, trying to focus on the physical pain in the desperate hope it might distract her from her emotions for even a minute. She felt like she shouldn’t be crying so much still, that it had been long enough, yet there were moments when the tears threatened to break through despite her best efforts. Unlike Mrs. Fenton and Valerie, revenge wasn’t satisfying to her. She wanted to do something productive, make things better, somehow, despite how impossible it all seemed. She wanted to fight for the rights of the ghosts, knowing how hard Danny worked to bridge that gap between their worlds before he passed. Her parents had political connections that could help, and even the limited funds she had access to were always useful. Some protections for ecto-enhanced humans would be a start. The Fentons weren’t using the word liminal at this point to describe Val, but there was no denying her freaky suit pushed her into a category that the government would be all too happy to classify as non-human if it meant getting a look at how it worked, and Sam worried that neither Val nor the Fentons were as concerned about it as they ought to be.

And, weird as it was, she and Val were friends now, and she did not want anymore of the people she cared about to get hurt. This was something she could do, hard as it might be, long as it might take. She wasn’t a ghost hunter, after all, although she did start taking self-defense lessons and the anxiety meds she was on now at least helped her keep her panic attacks under control. Sam felt a twinge of shame, knowing she still needed to tell Tucker and Val about her medication and therapy sessions, but it still felt so embarrassing. What were her problems compared to what Danny’s had been or even what Val’s were now? 

Val slipped a note onto her desk, and frowning Sam checked to make sure Lancer wasn’t watching before she opened it. Two words:

You going?

She did not need to ask, of course. The Fentons were holding a small, private service tonight to remember Danny. They wanted to say goodbye to him, even if the situation with Vlad and everything else meant they could not do so publicly. Sam . . . she should be there. She knew she should, but so far, she refused to commit to attending, not sure she could handle talking about Danny or admitting out loud that he was gone for good, the only remnant of him a ghost they would never be allowed to see.

Despite Dora’s warning Sam tried to call him back anyway, hoping that she was a liminal or something close enough to get the summoning to work. Three or four failed attempts later she gave it up, but every time there was a ghost sighting she found herself checking, hoping it was him, if only to have a chance to say goodbye one more time. To apologize for not doing more for him. To tell him–

The ghost alarm suddenly rang, interrupting her thoughts. “Grab your things, folks. We’ll continue this outside,” said Mr. Lancer as several of the students groaned, and they shoved their things hastily into their bags. Sam was pleased that at least this time her hands remained steady as she zipped up her backpack. 

“Shit.” Sam frowned as Val stared at her watch for a minute. 

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s dozens of signals,” she whispered as they followed their classmates into the hall. “The last time I saw that was when Nocturn attacked.”

Sam clutched her backpack straps a little tighter, her chipped nails digging in, as she breathed in for five seconds, held it for five more, and then slowly let it out. “You think it’s him again? He and Danny had some kind of deal, but now that he’s gone I’m not sure Nocturn will stick to it.”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “But it’s not good. Can you try to find a way to cover for me so I can, y’know?”

Sam hesitated, not sure she wanted to help Valerie when she knew she might get hurt, when suddenly there was a loud crash as glass smashed in a nearby classroom. Screams rang out through the hall as a half-dozen skeletons phased through the walls, and despite Mr. Lancer’s efforts, the students scattered, running in any direction they could to escape. She worried about Tucker, who headed off to the bathroom a few minutes earlier. Hopefully he would be okay. “I think that’s your distraction, huh?” said Sam, grabbing Val’s hand as they ran into another nearby classroom. 

“Take this,” whispered Val as she pulled an ectogun out of her own bag, and then she transformed, her red suit appearing around her in a blink. “And call the Fentons. Let them know I have my earpiece on, okay?”

“Right. Be careful,” she said as she took the gun, swallowing uneasily, and then as Val ran out the door she tapped out a quick text to Tucker before calling Jazz’s number. “C’mon, c’mon, pick up.” 

“Sam?” Jazz sounded exhausted. 

“Jazz, there’s a ghost attack at the school and it’s pretty bad, there are these weird skeletons everywhere. Can you tell your parents? Val’s on it already, she has her earpiece on,” she said. They probably knew about the attack already, since the alarms were supposed to alert them, too, but with everything that happened with Danny who knew how much attention they were paying to it these days. 

“Right, sure. Please stay safe, okay?”

“You, too.” She tucked her phone away, waiting for the screams in the hallway to die down as she hid, feeling sick with herself as she hoped that the ghosts chased everyone else outside instead of remaining in the school with her. After a few minutes of silence, she stood up, moving as quietly as she could in her heavy boots, and when she peeked out of the classroom she saw the hall was empty. Some of the lockers were smashed in, papers and books scattered across the floor as the emergency lights flickered. For a brief second, she wondered why Phantom wasn’t here yet, and then felt betrayed at her own stupid, stupid thoughts. Of course he wouldn’t be here. Danny would never be here to save them again. Sam was on her own.

“In for five, hold for five, out for five,” she whispered, trying to keep her breathing steady as she picked her way carefully down the hallway. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, making her nearly drop the ecto-gun, and then she took a long breath in, held it, and breathed out again before pulling it out. 

‘Outside by the flagpole. It’s bad.’

“Tucker,” she whispered, and although she knew there was nothing she could do to stop the ghosts, Sam was not about to leave another friend alone to get hurt or worse. She picked up the pace, running through the halls, her heavy boots barely a deterrent. Sam loved running, doing it every morning at dawn, so she found herself easily crossing the distance to the other end of the school. She remembered trying and failing a few times to get Tucker or Danny to run with her. Danny, at least, did for a bit in the summer before freshman year when she reminded him that astronauts had to be in top shape, but he always hated it, grumbling about how it was too early, and once school started . . . well, his accident happened the first month they were back, and after that he simply said his heart couldn’t take it. 

Realistically, she knew now that it was another little thing he did to maintain his secret, another lie to hide his strange, otherworldly nature. Not that it mattered anymore. None of it did.

She pushed the doors open to the outside, and despite taking medication for her anxiety, she felt herself trembling as she saw the sky itself was green, a crackling energy field surrounding the town. A ghost shield? No, or if it was, it was put up too late, for she could see skeletons in the streets, chasing people down and attacking them. She watched as Star swung a bat, smashing one to bits, and found herself impressed despite herself. A couple of the football players fought back, too, tackling the creatures and throwing ill-advised punches. Sometimes the ghosts reacted quickly, going intangible and sending them sprawling, but a few of them were caught off-guard enough that her peers' attacks weren’t completely useless.

“Sam!” She turned, seeing Tucker running over to her, a hand to his chest as he panted heavily. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Same,” she said. “Did you see Val?” 

“She’s off fighting the Fright Knight.” Her blood ran cold. She remembered that ghost from Halloween. It sent people into their worst nightmares, and it managed to strike Danny, leaving him an even worse wreck than usual afterward. He barely spoke to anyone for weeks, and she realized now exactly what kind of nightmares he may have suffered from back then. Val stopped the Fright Knight on Halloween, but from what she heard the fight was a close one, Valerie suffering a few nasty injuries afterward even though Sam never made the connection between her and the Red Huntress back then.

“Are the skeletons working for the Fright Knight now?” asked Sam. 

“I don’t think so. He said something about claiming Amity Park for his liege or whatever, telling us we had to surrender and hand over some ring,” said Tucker. “No one knows what he’s talking about, though.”

“Great. And the shield?”

“Not the Fentons,” said Tucker. “At least as far as we know. Val thinks we’re in the Ghost Zone, somehow.” 

Sam blinked at him. How on earth had things gone so wrong so quickly? She’d only been in that classroom for what? Five minutes? Maybe ten, at most? “Have those jerks in white shown up yet?” She looked around, but there was no sign of them. 

“Nope. Wes claims they’re in Wisconsin about to do a raid on Vlad’s place or something. Seems our plan to get revenge on him might’ve backfired a little,” said Tucker, showing her a video. How the hell did the internet work if Amity Park was in the Ghost Zone now? Or TikTok, for that matter? Whatever, not important. She had to focus. They had to get out of here, but where should they go?

“We need to get somewhere safe,” said Sam as she watched one of the football players get knocked out, but she couldn’t help him and the skeleton appeared to be moving on now, anyway. She had one little ecto-blaster against an entire army, and most of the other students and teachers had already fled. If they weren’t smart enough  to do the same thing, it wasn’t her fault. A tiny voice whispered that Danny would have helped, but she pushed it down. She wasn’t him, and putting himself endlessly on the line for everyone only ended with him dead. She would not do the same thing. 

And Val, at least, could handle herself. 

Probably. 

Maybe. 

Shit. 

She might not care about the A-Listers much, but she wouldn’t abandon any more of her friends. 

“The Fentons’ house?” 

“No . . . Yes? I don’t know. Maybe–maybe we should find Val,” she groaned.  Stupid, stupid, stupid. They couldn’t help her fight, and she saw Tucker’s eyebrows rise so high they nearly met his hairline. “She can’t–she’ll need our help.”

“Sam, I don’t think we can help her,” said Tucker. “I don’t have a weapon, and you don’t know how to fire the one you do have.” 

He wasn’t wrong, and Sam gritted her teeth, wanting to scream. This wasn’t fair. They couldn’t leave Val alone with the Fright Knight. Even if she beat him once, he now had an entire army of skeletons as back-up, and if he was working for a bigger, nastier ghost, then Val didn’t stand a chance. But neither did they, not really. “I wish Danny were here,” she said, feeling utterly useless, and suddenly a booming voice echoed through the town.

“People of Amity Park!” it called. “I am here on behalf of my liege, the true King of All Ghosts, Pariah Dark! He seeks your immediate allegiance and the return of the ring which was stolen from him. No one shall be allowed to leave until it has been returned, and should you refuse to do so by tomorrow’s end, then you shall perish for your treachery and theft. Should any of you continue to stand in our way, you shall be struck down without mercy. All hail the return of His Majesty Pariah Dark!”

“Shit, Tucker, that’s–that really is the Fright Knight, isn’t it?” she said, hearing his voice making it really sink in. “Then Val–we have to try to help her. Please, Tucker. I know we can’t do much, but we can’t let her die, too.”

“Okay, but we’re just going to get her out of there long enough to retreat to the Fentons,” he said. “I think I saw her near the football field. Come on.” Sam followed him as they carefully wove between the cars, trying to stay low and hopefully out of sight of the attacking skeletons. The battle appeared to be winding down, the skeletons simply patrolling and watching for any sign of trouble, and as they made it to the field Sam saw a large sword stuck into the turf. Dash would have a fit, no doubt, and she felt a tiny, smug satisfaction at the thought of him crying over something as ridiculous as football right now.

At least, until she spotted Valerie crumpled against the chainlink fence, cradling her arm and shaking. “Val!” she called out, and oh, thank goodness, she was conscious, her eyes snapping up to meet Sam’s. Her suit was retracted, and the Fright Knight was nowhere in sight. “You okay?”

“I think my arm might be broken,” she admitted, wincing as she tried to hold it out. “But I’m not stuck in some nightmare realm, so I’m calling it a win.” 

“Come on, we should get you to a hospital,” said Sam, and she saw Tucker shudder out of the corner of her eye.

“Sam, there’s no way a hospital is going to do anything about this right now, not when other people are probably injured way worse than I am,” hissed Val as she struggled to her feet, biting her lip as she hissed in pain. She was covered in scrapes and bruises, her skirt smudged and torn. “Can we go to the Fentons? Jazz knows some first aid, and besides, I heal fast.”

“This requires more than basic first aid, Val, and even if you do heal quickly, it’s a broken arm, not a bruise!”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I’ll get more than basic first aid for at least a few hours, anyway. Please? I want to try to help, still, if I can,” she insisted. Val was as stubborn and hopeless as Danny sometimes. No wonder the two got along so well. 

“Fine, but you’re going to a hospital at some point, okay?” sighed Sam as she walked beside her. At least there was no way they were doing the memorial service for Danny now. The Fentons would be too focused on dealing with the ghost attack, and although she felt a little guilty that the others wouldn’t get the closure they wanted from it, she was glad she wouldn’t need to force herself to sit through it. She knew her friend was dead, that there was no coming back. She didn’t need to be reminded of it for two hours, or to remember how they all failed him, at least not while everything still felt so raw. 

“Fine.” Valerie rolled her eyes, but Sam didn’t care as long as she agreed to get help. At least the Fentons’ house was close by, only about a mile or so from the school, and the three of them managed the walk slowly, doing their best not to antagonize any of the skeleton ghosts still out and about. The football player she saw get hit in front of the school was gone, hopefully dragged off by one of his smarter friends, and everyone else seemed to be hiding somewhere, too. Did anybody else get seriously hurt? Killed, even? The latter had never happened in a ghost attack, but with Danny gone, it seemed like it would only be a matter of time before it did. Maybe trying to get more protection and rights for the ghosts was a terrible plan. No one would want to after this attack, especially if anyone ended up seriously hurt.

“I wonder if Danny knows,” said Tucker after a while. “About the attack, I mean.”

“It’s not his responsibility anymore.” Val sounded bitter, though, no doubt suffering for the lack of Danny’s presence even beyond just mourning him. 

“I know, that’s not–” Tucker sighed. He pulled off his beret for a moment, twisting it in his hands, before settling it back on his head. “I just–he might be worried, if he does. That’s all.”

It clearly wasn’t all. Sam knew it. Val knew it, too. They all wished he were here, fighting for them, even as they knew it wasn’t fair to ask him to do it. Val and the Fentons were powerful, but they didn’t come close to Phantom’s skill or experience when dealing with the ghosts, and this was well beyond what they were capable of handling. They needed Danny, even if they didn’t want to admit it out loud, and she hated that they did. He deserved to rest. 

The shield around the Fentons’ home twinkled invitingly, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. At least here they might be safe for a time, and walking through it she felt it prickle against her skin, like the tingling feeling she had when her foot fell asleep. Val, though, winced a bit as they passed through the shield. “You okay?” 

Valerie flinched, clearly not realizing Sam had been watching her. “It’s just my arm.” A lie, but even so, Val was clearly human enough to pass through the shield even if she found it uncomfortable. Did Danny have the same problem? She didn’t remember him reacting to the shields, but then again, she never really watched him for a reaction, either, and he may have been better at hiding it than Val.

“You’re okay!” said Jazz, crying as she threw her arms around Sam once they were inside. “We were worried about–oh, no, Val, what happened to your arm?”

“Broken, I think,” she said. “Can you help?”

“I’ll try, but you’ll need to see an actual doctor at some point,” said Jazz, running off to get a first aid kit as they sat down in the living room. 

“My parents are definitely going to insist we move if we make it through this mess,” whispered Sam. “I’ve barely convinced them not to before, but now?”

“If it helps, I’m not sure we’re going to make it out of this one,” said Val, shifting her arm, and she leaned back against the couch. “I don’t even know how we get Amity Park back to Earth and out of the Ghost Zone, and the Fentons and I aren’t strong enough to beat all of these ghosts. We need help.”

“Okay, I found some bandages and stuff,” said Jazz as she came back downstairs and then sat down next to Valerie. She examined her arm carefully, pursing her lips before finally applying some bandages and creating a makeshift sling. Sam watched in silence, wondering where the Fentons were. The lab or the Ops Center, maybe? 

“Your parents figure anything else out about the attack?” asked Val as she pulled out her phone to text someone. Her Dad, probably, though Sam didn’t know for sure. No doubt she was worried about him, too, and Sam pulled out her own, sending a quick message to her grandma and parents. Hopefully they were okay. Part of her wanted to leave to check on them, but the other part of her knew she would be better off staying here beneath the ghost shield, that wandering around was a good way to get hurt and that it wouldn’t help her parents if she did. From here, at least, she might be able to do something . 

“We know some ghost king called Pariah Dark was released. There are some ghosts up in the Ops Center right now that fled, I guess, since he threatened them,” said Jazz, and Sam leaned forward for a moment, the obvious question dancing on her tongue, when Jazz shook her head. “He’s not with them. They don’t–they’re not sure where Danny was when it happened.”

“Right.” Of course. Even now, he still couldn’t be here. It wasn’t fair. “Are the ghosts going to fight back?”

“Obviously not,” she said. “I told them they needed to help us fight back, and even Skulker told me to get lost. They’re happy to keep hiding here and to use us as human shields, though. Cowards.” She pulled tightly on the strap for the sling, making Val curse softly. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve had worse,” said Val. “And I can’t blame you for being angry, Jazz. We need their help.”

“I bet Danny could convince them,” said Tucker softly, and the three of them glared at him as he held his hands up defensively. “Come on, what?! You know he could.”

“We can’t keep focusing on that,” snapped Sam. “It’s not a useful solution when it’s not a real option. How he would  have convinced them, though, might be a better way to approach it.” They all looked to Val, the only one who spent any extensive time with Danny while he was with the ghosts besides Jazz’s parents.

“Oh, no, I’ve got no clue,” she said. “I never did manage to understand the ghosts the way Danny did. I think the Lunch Lady still wants to throw a meat patty at me for the awful icing I made for that fruit cake. And besides, they genuinely liked Danny. They hate me.”

“Then–” Sam was cut off as a scream came from the lab. Eyes wide, she and the others jumped to their feet, hurrying down the stairs, wondering if a ghost made it through the portal and if the Fentons were okay. When she walked into the lab and saw the two Fentons standing there, she felt a tiny sense of relief, but it was quickly overcome as she saw him cowering on the floor, hands up as he stared down the ecto-guns pointed at his face.

Vlad Masters. 

“What’s he doing here?”

“Apparently he’s the one responsible for all of this,” said Maddie, her voice steady but full of ice. 

“It was an accident, my dear, I did not know–”

“--don’t call me dear!” she snapped, and she fired the ecto blaster, hitting Vlad squarely in the shoulder, and all of them jumped as the shot went off. Sam didn’t understand why Vlad wouldn’t fight back, but then she saw the injuries. Either the Fentons managed to get the jump on him pretty quickly when he appeared, or he was already in a nasty fight. She suspected the latter, given that Maddie said Vlad was responsible for the mess they were in right now. “You killed my son. Don’t you dare. ”

Vlad’s expression changed as the realization dawned on him that there was little to no chance he would be leaving this basement alive. “Ah. So you know. I never intended to kill him, it was a rather unfortunate–”

“--stop!” Jack strode forward, grabbing Vlad by the shoulders and pushing him hard against the lab wall, and Sam stared, not knowing what to do. Part of her insisted she should try to put a stop to this somehow before things got out of hand, but the other part refused to deny the Fentons this moment despite knowing that it would never be enough. No amount of hurting Vlad Masters would ever bring Danny back, but that didn’t mean the man didn’t deserve to suffer at the hands of the people he hurt. “What I did to you, to Danny? That was an accident. What you did was intentional. We saw how you injured him first hand. We tried to save him, but you–you–” 

Jack broke off, letting the man fall to the ground hard as he turned away, putting a hand to his face as he leaned against the table. Maddie’s eyes flickered over to him for a moment, but she kept her weapon trained on Vlad, not taking the chance that he might escape. 

“Where’s the ring?” asked Valerie.

“Ring? What–”

“Don’t. The only way you get out of this alive is if you cooperate. The Fright Knight said there’s a ring,” said Val, her voice surprisingly calm, and it was only then that Sam noticed she had a thermos hidden behind her back where Vlad couldn’t see it, though no doubt he suspected something. When did she even grab it? “Pariah Dark wants it.”

“He will not leave, even if you return it to him,” said Vlad, happy to focus on someone that was not currently pointing a blaster in his face. “I could bring him here, you know.”

“Who, Pariah Dark?”

“No. Daniel,” he offered. Changing the subject. Deflecting. Sam had endured enough of Jazz’s psycho babble to realize the tactic for what it was. 

“No thanks. The ring–”

“--he could, though,” said Mrs. Fenton, interrupting her, and she heard her voice crack for the first time since they entered the basement. “He’s a liminal, he knows his name–”

“Not his true name,” said Sam, and she swallowed. She hated this. She, too, wanted what Vlad could offer them. A chance to see Danny one last time, to say goodbye. But it wasn’t right. And it wasn’t what Danny would want, to be summoned by the man who killed him as some sort of gross manipulation tactic. “And if Danny wanted to be here, he would be. We can’t–we should respect his wishes. So where’s the ring?”

“I–”

“Hand over the ring and I’ll let you go,” said Jack as he aimed his blaster once more, his hands steady. “Refuse, though, and I’ll shoot you in the same spot you shot my son.”

Sam watched Vlad closely, thinking he would try to fight, but then the man sighed as he pulled a ring out of his pocket and pushed it slowly across the floor. “You should know, of course, that Pariah Dark will not stop his reign of terror on both realms simply because you’ve returned his ring to him.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you released him.”

“I had not intended to do so, but you gave me no choice! You destroyed my reputation, my companies, my–” He stopped, suddenly, his eyes going wide as Valerie locked the thermos onto him and sucked him inside, and then she grunted and put the thermos on the table nearby as everyone stared at her.

“I might’ve just killed him, but there’s a chance he gave us a fake one or something,” she said, adjusting the sling as she picked the ring up off the floor. “And we might need more information. But once this is over, I’ll help you toss him into the darkest hole you can find and let him rot there for eternity. Danny wouldn’t like it, I bet, but he’s not here to argue with us because of him.” As the ring sat in her palm, Sam saw her shudder before putting it down on the table. 

“How did Vlad get in here, anyway?” asked Jazz. 

“Through the portal. He came through a little after the other ghosts fled the Ghost Zone,” said Mrs. Fenton, and Sam could see her hands shaking as she holstered her blaster, her eyes never leaving the thermos sitting on the table now. “He was severely injured and wanted our help, but I just–I couldn’t keep it up anymore.”

“I’m impressed you managed to fool him for as long as you did,” said Sam. “I couldn’t have done it.”

“But we screwed up again, didn’t we?” said Mr. Fenton. “We made him too desperate, and now he’s gone and unleashed something that’s going to destroy everything.”

“We can’t just give up.” But even as she said the words, she didn’t know what they could possibly do. “Right now, at least, we have something to bargain with.”

“At the cost of what? The ghosts said he’s sent his army through the Ghost Zone, pushing them out of their homes,” said Mrs. Fenton. “And if Danny’s in there . . . even if it’s just his ghost, I don’t want to risk him getting hurt because of us. He’s been through enough.”

“And they won’t help us fight back,” said Jazz. “I tried, really. But I couldn’t convince them to help.”

“What happens now?” said Tucker.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Danny lay on his stomach on the island, watching as Cujo ran around chasing ghostly butterflies. He’d spend most of his time exploring, searching for a lair that may or may not exist, not sure what else to do with his new eternal afterlife in the Infinite Realms. Once or twice he met with the other ghosts, including Dora, who let him know about a three week truce with the living world in his honor. Danny did not expect a tribute, but was touched deeply by it. If nothing else, it helped his obsession remain a quiet buzzing in the back of his head instead of a never ending roar, knowing that at least his family and friends would be free from supernatural threats for a little while. .

Several times, Danny found himself back at the portal, and he would allow himself to try to summon that warmth, the tiny flicker of humanity that always remained like a candle in the darkness within himself, but he felt nothing but the icy chill of his own core. So far, the lack of it helped him to turn away, knowing that seeing his friends and family one last time would only bring them pain when he inevitably needed to leave, when he knew that over time he would become unrecognizable and that his old life would remain forever out of reach. Several times someone tried to summon him, too, and each time he managed to resist it and push down the temptation to follow the thread back to the summoner. Best case scenario it was Sam or Tucker or one of his loved ones, but worst case scenario it was Vlad. He doubted Sam and Tucker would tell the man his true name, though, so at least it would remain little more than an invitation, a question rather than a demand.

Cujo ran over and nuzzled his face, licking him a few times. “Gross,” he grumbled, pushing the ghost dog away as he rolled onto his back and sat up. Little by little his arm and shoulder began to improve, at this point the scars from the ghost attack almost entirely faded, but his chest still ached and the threads in his skin itched uncomfortably, and his powers remained by far weaker than they ought to be. He should probably figure out a way to get the stitches removed, but Danny doubted it mattered since he was dead. He didn’t look at his injury much, but Danny found his fingers subconsciously drifting to it when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Wanna go explore some more?” he asked, and Cujo cocked his head at him as he wagged his tail. “Or maybe you can help me find someone. I should probably stop avoiding Nocturn.” The truce the ghosts enacted on his behalf had to be ending soon if it hadn’t already.  He didn’t want to incite violence, but he owed the ghost an explanation and an apology, given that he no doubt realized that Danny’s dreams stopped having the same kind of power they briefly held now that he was nothing more than a ghost.

Cujo wagged his tail encouragingly, and pushing himself to his feet Danny followed the small ghost dog. Even if Cujo couldn’t actually lead him to Nocturn, it didn’t matter. He would find the ancient ghost eventually, and at this point, he didn’t know what else to do aside from exploring some more and looking for a lair that he was increasingly convinced didn’t exist. He hadn’t expected being fully dead to be so boring, and even the strange new ghosts and places in the Ghost Zone didn’t fill him with the wonder he would have expected, that void within him seeming to continue to swallow his hopes and dreams, any future he might have had outside the Ghost Zone as dead as he was.

They flew through the Ghost Zone for a long time, much further than Danny ever traveled before, and little by little he began to feel a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t a tug or a pull, the kind of overarching feeling of being home that the other ghost described their lairs having, but there was an openness, a sense of seeing a dear friend after many years apart, and at some point he was no longer surrounded by endless green and purple doors but a black sky full of nebulae and stars. For a few minutes he hovered there, staring in awe, and as he reached his fingers out towards them he heard a familiar voice. 

“Liminal child.” Nocturn towered over him, blending almost seamlessly into the darkness and stars behind him, yet Danny wondered how he could have missed him so easily, his pale face and red eyes sticking out like a beacon against the dark sky behind him. 

“About that,” said Danny uncomfortably as he crossed his legs and floated. Cujo curled up in his lap immediately, and Danny smiled at him as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. “I’m kind of not, anymore.” 

“Not what? A child?” the ghost chuckled softly, and Danny blinked, surprised by the joke. He didn’t think the ghost had a sense of humor.

“A liminal. I died fully.” He pulled down on the collar of his shirt just far enough that the scar became visible.

The ancient ghost laughed, the stars around him twinkling brilliantly. “Liminal child, you are no more dead than the last time we spoke in your home. No ghost could continue to dream as you have.”

Danny’s fingers stopped and he felt dizzy, almost sick. He focused for a moment, trying to transform and to find that tiny sense of humanity within him, but all he found was the cold comfort of his core thrumming in his chest. No doubt it was some form of revenge, a cruel joke against him. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be. He would know, or the other ghosts would have known. 

Right?

“It’d be nice if that were true, but you’re wrong. I can’t change back. The–the trigger I used to sense, that I could use to change, isn’t there anymore.”

“You walk on a razor’s edge, constantly balancing between two realms. Your body has suffered a great deal of damage. You have not sensed your human half because you subconsciously protect yourself. Were you to transform before you were completely healed, you would not survive the change and your beliefs about your own mortality would become reality in truth.” Nocturn leaned forward, gently touching the spot on his chest, his fingers as cold as the depths of space but oddly comforting. “Your heart needs time to mend itself before it will beat again, liminal child.”

“But it’s been weeks, hasn’t it?” said Danny. Maybe months. Time was uncertain here, the world unchanging. There were no sunrises or sunsets, no moon or stars to keep track of the nights. Well, at least not in most of the Ghost Zone, but Danny doubted the stars surrounding him right now changed with the passage of time. He didn’t recognize any constellations in the sky around them, either. “It’s never taken me so long to heal from something before.” 

“Your heart is harder to heal than a broken arm, and in your ghost form, it will take longer,” said Nocturn, and Danny swallowed. He knew Plasmius struck him close to where his heart would be, right beside his core, but hadn’t realized he actually succeeded in hitting it. He didn’t even know his heart could be a target while still mid-transformation or a ghost, never wanting to know what did or didn’t change beneath his skin. Not for the first time, Danny regretted knowing so little about his liminality actually worked, if only so he could figure out how honest Nocturn was being right now. “If you could survive the transition, the process would be faster, but it is a risk your body will not allow yet.”

“When, then?”

“I could not say,” he admitted. “But it will be soon. You cannot remain a ghost indefinitely, not for your human half to survive.” He leaned forward, his red eyes peering closely at Danny. “You do not seem pleased, liminal child.”

“I–it’s not that I’m not glad, it’s just–I hadn’t thought about going back,” he said, or at least, he hadn’t considered being able to really go home. He fantasized about saying his farewells, hugging his family and friends, and maybe even visiting the school one last time. He indulged in the fantasies enough to visit the portal and stare at it, considering, before turning back. Going home like this, though, would be different. It would mean returning to everything not as a mere passerby but as a full person again. It would mean dealing with school and ghost attacks. The isolation and depression. It would mean facing the fallout of whatever his family and friends told the world about him, whether it was simply that he died or the much, much more complicated truth about his strange half-life. It would mean confronting his parents, too, and their reactions about who he was, what he was, and what it meant. And his friends would be forced to reckon with him, to live with him once again and everything that he was. It would mean being forced to confront Vlad again. 

And he would need to tell the ghosts he was wrong, after everything they did to welcome him and make him feel safe and whole and happy for the first time in months. There was a not so small part of him that did not want to let that go. His life in the real world was filled with little peace, and instead was messy and complicated and exhausting, and he didn’t know if what he had there - his friendships, his family - was worth the trade-off since he didn’t know if they could all truly accept him as he was. Not knowing for sure what he wanted to do frightened him. It should be an easy choice. He should want to live. 

“Do you worry about the one that harmed you?”

“Obviously,” he muttered, his shoulders sagging as Cujo licked his hand. “But it’s just one part of it. Being alive had a lot of . . . pressure, I guess? It sounds so stupid. I know I should be happy, and I am, but–I’m worried about messing it up and disappointing everyone and I–I wasn’t happy before, and I’m not exactly happy now, not really, but I–it’s easier, maybe. Comfortable. And I guess I’m just . . . I’m scared to go back.”

He was terrified, too, of getting his hopes up too much only to learn that Nocturn was mistaken and that he was indeed as dead as he thought since he should be able to feel something , shouldn’t he, some trace of life within himself?

“How very human to be afraid and worry so much. I wonder that you ever could have thought you were fully a ghost, unable to relax and to be content with the simple beauty of existence.” He stood up and gazed outward at the stars twinkling around them. “You are stronger than you think, child. You will overcome it.”

“Am I?” whispered Danny softly, his hands freezing in Cujo’s fur. 

“You are. And in your dreams, you crave the connection you thought was lost to you. You want their acceptance and their love. But you cannot have that if you do not try to restore it and provide them the chance to show that your worst nightmares and fears are wrong,” said Nocturn. 

“But if they’re not–”

“--your parents helped you. Protected you, even without knowing the truth of who you were,” he said. “And I can see their dreams, liminal child, even if I do not harvest them. I know what they think of you, even if you cannot see the truth of it through your own nightmares. But you do not need to return to your world immediately or wholly abandon this one, even if you choose to return. You are as much a child of the Infinite Realms as you are of the human world. And it may be best to wait. Your heart is not yet healed enough for you to be human.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I hung out here for a bit?” 

“Not at all, liminal child,” said Nocturn. “I would, if you so desired, let you remain here indefinitely and teach you. The dreams you both crave and desire to protect are not precisely the same as the ones I do, yet they are close enough that I could help you learn how to nurture them as I have done with you, to plant seeds that can blossom if nurtured. But the living world changes fast, and things may shift more rapidly there and leave you behind if you linger here too long. Should you wish to hasten your recovery, I would advise you to seek out the Far Frozen. Frostbite and his people are the foremost healers and scientists in the Infinite Realms. There may be more that they can do for you.”

“I . . . I’ll think about it,” said Danny. “And, um, thanks. For everything.”

Danny stayed with Nocturn, resting under the stars. The view was unlike anything he could ever experience back home, even when he flew up past the clouds given the awful light pollution in Amity Park. He knew the ancient ghost was powerful, but he rarely met one that could change the shape of the Ghost Zone around them so profoundly, and he made up constellations and stories for the glittering specks surrounding them as he avoided thinking about what he wanted and needed to do, the terror and fear holding onto him too tightly despite Nocturn’s reassurances, but eventually, even he couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to home and what he should do. 

Although Danny knew about the Far Frozen, he never went there before his death or during his afterlife so far. It was one of a handful of fixed points, and its residents had a reputation for being friendly but powerful. Coming to the Ghost Zone before as Phantom, though, was always a big risk. Too many of the ghosts reacted to the mere sight of him with an ecto blast, so Danny avoided it as best he could despite the strange sense of comfort the Ghost Zone always gave him. 

He suspected the ghosts at the Far Frozen would help him, and the question was more whether he wanted the help or not. If they did, he could go home faster, see his family and his friends and return to his life, and his obsession thrilled at the idea of going back and keeping them safe, protected, and able to see their dreams become reality. But his life was the problem, wasn’t it? The last few months were a train wreck, everything falling to pieces around him, and he couldn’t see a world in which that wasn’t still happening when he returned. By this point he already missed so much school that there was no way he would get to continue to his junior year with his friends and classmates even if he made it home tomorrow, and he still had no idea what he even wanted to do with the rest of his life, his dreams of being an astronaut thoroughly smashed long ago. 

And the ghosts knew the truth now, too. About him being Phantom and Fenton, and while they showed him a lot of kindness so far, he couldn’t imagine that lasting if he started shoving them right back into a thermos as soon as they started attacking again. He also couldn’t picture the ghosts stopping their attacks against Amity Park, though, or at least not all of them. Skulker would go right back to hunting oddities, Danny included, even if Skulker would only toy with him for the first year or two until he was technically enough of an adult that Skulker wouldn’t feel weird trying to hunt him for real. Technus would continue to try to steal tech to conquer the world, and Spectra would no doubt be delighted to torment him with his dual existence now that word of it had spread throughout the Ghost Zone.

But if Nocturn was right, then Danny couldn’t run away forever, not without actually killing himself, and the more he considered it, the more he found that if nothing else, he did have one dream. He wanted to be accepted by his friends and family. He wanted to be loved. He desperately wanted to see them even if they might not be able to accept who and what he was in truth, to give them the chance to at least try. And he could not forget the way his parents helped him as Phantom, despite their own prejudices and uneasiness, or the way Tucker and Sam continued to stay by him for those few days before his death—or maybe not death, he still wasn’t sure–and how willing they were to listen to him, to stay by him, and to continue to be his friends despite what he was. 

And if that was true, then maybe Danny didn’t have to abandon the Infinite Realms, and perhaps his relationship with the ghosts could change. There was no reason it had to go back to what it was. It felt odd to be hopeful about something, about anything, after so long, but even though the familiar spark of humanity in his chest was gone, he could feel a hint of something bright there, of possibilities and choices that he never dreamed would be possible before, the void and hole within him smaller than it was before his death. And if the ghosts, who supposedly changed at a snail’s pace could accept and welcome him to the Ghost Zone despite everything he did to them, despite the number of times they fought and despite how Danny lied to them about who he was, then maybe his family and friends could, too. They deserved the chance, at least. 

And Vlad . . . He still had to deal with him, somehow. He knew Vlad would come after him and his family again. His friends at least knew to watch out for Vlad since he definitely told Sam and Tucker about him, but they might not know that Vlad was the one that came within a hair’s breadth of killing him in the park that night. His family might not know the truth at all, might not even be able to begin to suspect that Vlad was the one responsible for what happened to him. 

And at that moment, the choice was made for him. He had promised Sam and Tucker that he would not keep his secrets at the cost of his family’s lives, and he intended to do what he could to keep his word. If there was any hope, any chance that Danny might still be alive, that he could protect his family and friends from more pain and from Vlad, then he had to take it. 

“I need to go,” said Danny. “And I . . . thank you again. For everything.”

“Of course, liminal child. And do remember that you are always welcome here, no matter where your path takes you now,” said Nocturn, and Danny nodded as he flew away from the comforting embrace of Nocturn’s lair, letting Cujo lead the way again. The dog did manage to bring him straight to Nocturn, after all - there was no reason to think he couldn’t do the same with the Far Frozen. 

The starry skies faded behind him, replaced by the endless green of the Ghost Zone, and Danny followed in silence as Cujo led the way. He wasn’t sure how long he flew, but as he finally began to get closer, Danny could feel the bite in the air first, the cold and the ice long before he saw it, something resonating faintly with his core, and to his surprise when the island covered in massive white peaks and swirling blizzard finally appeared within the endless sea of green ectoplasm, Danny felt that strange, comforting feeling of visiting an old friend like he did only (hours? days?) ago with Nocturn, even though he didn’t quite understand why. It wasn’t as if he’d ever met them before like he had with Nocturn. 

Although Danny didn’t mind the intense chill in the air, Cujo began shivering as the snow started to fall around them, the island close. “Do you want to go?” he asked, but the dog refused, staying by his side despite his own discomfort, and Danny smiled sadly at him. “Okay, be stubborn, then. I won’t ask twice.”

As he approached he saw a pair of yetis standing guard outside a massive cave, and although he’d seen a lot of odd things in the Ghost Zone, it still made him pause. Ghost yetis were new to him, at least. Were they like Nocturn? Born out of myths and legends and stories? Maybe he could ask if this went well. Maybe if the ghosts didn’t hate him after everything, then he might be able to finally learn more about the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants, about the part of himself that he treated as something that deserved to be hidden rather than celebrated. He didn’t want to hate himself anymore, and it was only as he stood there that he realized just how much self-loathing he was filled with for so long.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the mission at hand. “Hello?” he said carefully as he landed in front of them, trying not to stare too much at the very, very sharp spears in their hands and the fangs sticking out of their mouths and horns on their heads. His shoulder twinged at the memory of the ghost attack mere minutes before Vlad killed him, but these weren’t mindless animal ghosts and they were friendly. Everyone said they were friendly. 

“What brings you here, child?” asked one of the yetis as Danny swallowed and bit his lip.

“I need help.” He pulled down part of his shirt to show the wound on his chest, the phase-resistant threads stitching it shut and almost glowing in the soft light. “I was told that you could provide it.” 

“Come with me,” commanded the one on the left, and Danny followed quickly, Cujo running behind him and playing in the soft blanket of snow that covered the ground. Cujo enjoyed it enough that the cold seemed a distant thing to him now, and Danny smiled. Would his parents be mad if they knew he adopted a dog? More to the point, would Valerie? Cujo did ruin her life, and he dreaded having that conversation with her. Did she know the truth about him, too, now? What he was? He didn’t know who his parents or Sam or Tucker might have told, or even how much his parents really understood since he hadn’t exactly stuck around to explain everything to them. 

He pushed the thought away, not wanting to get his hopes up, his mind still doubting what Nocturn told him. “Uh, what’s your name?” asked Danny as they walked through the cave. He struggled to keep up, the yeti’s strides so much larger than his own that it reminded him of taking walks with his Dad as a kid. 

“Snow Flurry. Yours?”

“Danny,” he said, “and this is Cujo.”

“Danny Fenton?” asked Snow Flurry, his tone unreadable. He didn’t know if his reputation here was good or bad, but there was no point hiding it. They would figure it out even if he tried to hide it. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” His voice echoed more than usual within the cave. 

“I see.” Snow Flurry stopped, turning to him with an intense look of sympathy. “We cannot undo your death, Danny Fenton.”

“Just Danny is fine,” he corrected, wondering how often the ghosts asked for such a thing for him to jump to that conclusion, “and, uh, I’ve been told that maybe I’m not actually totally dead yet. I’m not sure I believe it, but that’s why I’m here. You’re all supposed to be super good healers and scientists, right?”

“We have powerful healers and scientists both, but that is not all we do. But I would temper your hopes, child,” said Snow Flurry as he resumed leading him through the cave, clearly thinking Danny was delusional. Great. It didn’t help that even Danny wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t a fool’s errand. There was no reason for Nocturn to show him kindness, and this might be the ghost’s idea of some kind of fun prank on the kid that broke his promise within a mere day of making it. It was too late to turn back, though, and so Danny continued to follow Snow Flurry until they walked into a large, hi-tech lab.

Sitting at one of the workstations was a massive yeti. He wore a blue cloak, a golden armband with intricate engravings on his right arm, and a brilliant gold belt holding up a blue skirt similar in style to what the ancient Greeks wore. But the thing that stuck out the most was his left arm and horns, both crafted out of ice, and he could see a skeletal hand just beneath the surface that Danny struggled not to stare at as the ghost turned to face them.

“Greetings, child,” said the ghost. “I am Frostbite, ruler of the Far Frozen.” 

“Oh, uh–I’m Danny,” he said, bowing. Was that what he was supposed to do here? He never met a king or any kind of royalty before. Well, except for Aragon, and that didn’t feel like it counted much since he was such a jerk. And, well, also Dora, and he usually bowed to her if only to be polite. But still, it wasn’t as if he was used to it yet, even his encounters with Dora few and far between. “Danny Fenton. And this is Cujo.”

Cujo barked cheerfully, running up to the ghost and darting in circles around the lab. Danny worried that the ghost might be upset, but instead, he smiled as he dismissed Snow Flurry. “I’ve heard of you, of course,” said Frostbite. “You’re quite famous. It is unfortunate we never had the opportunity to meet before your untimely demise.”

“Right, well, about that,” said Danny, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been told that maybe it wasn’t so untimely.”

“Pardon?” Right, that made no sense, but he couldn’t help it, his nerves getting the better of him.

“Another ghost–Nocturn–told me that I’m not actually dead yet,” said Danny. “I want to believe it, but it feels too good to be true. Like a dream, I guess, which is kind of his thing. He said you could help me heal, and if it’s true I’d appreciate that, but mostly I just want to know the truth.”

“Come sit over here,” said Frostbite, gesturing to a table that would not have looked out of place in a doctor’s office, and Danny hopped up. “Tell me, then, what led you to believe you died.”

“Well, that part’s easy.” Danny pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing the stitched-up wound and hoping he wouldn’t need to actually say the words, not wanting to risk a death echo. “My parents tried to fix me, but I don’t know for sure, and when I came to I teleported to the Ghost Zone. I–I’ve never been able to do that before, either, and I think . . .” He stared at the mark on his hand for a moment, pressing down on it with his thumb. “I wanted to be somewhere safe. Like home, I guess, but clearly not my actual home, you know?” And he didn’t go to Tucker’s, something which he did not add, but it was the next closest thing to home for him, the one place he always felt safe.

“Plus every ghost I’ve met thinks I’m fully dead now, even the ones that knew before, and when I tried to change back, I couldn’t,” said Danny. “Usually there’s this feeling, this like warmth and light and just sense of being human that kind of sits here–” He put his hand on his chest, just to the side of his core and right over the hole from Plasmius’s attack “--but I haven’t sensed it at all since I got hurt. It’s just gone. And although I’ve had trouble changing back once before, I could still sense it there, still knew it was here, I just couldn’t grab onto it.”

“How did you change back the first time when you couldn’t grasp the feeling of humanity within yourself?” asked Frostbite as he stuck a thermometer in his ear, and Danny saw him scribble something down on a sheet. 

“I went to my friends,” he said softly, remembering the two of them. Sam holding his hand, Tucker staring at him in awe, the soft music playing in the background. “And they pulled me back, somehow. Just being there with them reminded me of being human, of breathing, of wanting to live and exist and feel again in a way I can’t when I’m a ghost.”

Frostbite grabbed a stethoscope and placed it against his chest over his core, listening for a moment before he asked, “Have you tried this again?”

“No. Like I said, I can’t even feel it this time, and I didn’t–I thought–” He took a breath, despite not technically being able to breathe, while Frostbite made a note and put away the stethoscope. “I didn’t want to show up and make things harder for them. I wanted them to be able to move on because I didn’t think I was still alive.”

“That’s very kind, Danny Fenton,” said Frostbite.

“You can just call me Danny,” he insisted. “And I mean it sounds like it is, but I think it’s also just to protect myself. I’ve been scared that if I am dead and went back, then I wouldn’t be able to make myself leave even though–y’know. I shouldn’t be there with them since then they’d never want to let me go, either, even as I–even if I can’t really be a part of their lives anymore, not really, and I . . . I just . . . ” The words died in his throat as he rubbed his arms and bit his lip, trying to hold back his own tears. 

“Then at the very least, you are wiser than many who come to the Infinite Realms this way,” said Frostbite as he put a furry paw on Danny’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “Can you generate a ball of ectoplasm, please?”

“Uh, I can try,” offered Danny, holding out his hand, and a small green ball formed over his palm for a second before rapidly vanishing, his chest and core burning painfully. He winced, bringing a hand up for a moment and swallowing. “Sorry. I tried it once before since I got here, but I haven’t been able to do it. It used to be pretty easy for me. I thought it was just because I, um, died and was sort of new to being a full ghost.”

“It should be quite simple for most ghosts, even those that are newly dead such as yourself, but you are an unusual case,” said Frostbite. “I’m going to need you to lay back on the bed, please. I want to scan you. Can you stay still for a moment?”

“Sure,” he said as he laid down, and within seconds Cujo jumped up into his lap. “No, buddy. This isn’t rest time. You gotta stay on the floor for a minute, okay?” Cujo whined but obeyed, much to Danny’s relief, and then Frostbite wheeled over a strange-looking scanner, slowly letting it pass over him as he lay on the bed, before walking over to one of the monitors to study the results. Danny could swear he heard his own heart beating as he waited, the seconds ticking by while Frostbite sat in silence for a long time. 

“Um, anything?” he asked, unable to help himself. 

“We’ll have some more data in a minute,” said Frostbite. “This scanner should be able to tell us much about your core. Although the wound you received clearly did not shatter it, I believe it may have damaged it, which could be why your healing has progressed so slowly. Your overall temperature is quite high for one with an affinity for ice.”

“What?”

“You have an ice core - we could sense it immediately when you arrived,” explained Frostbite. Danny knew he did, his question more about Frostbite’s comment about his temperature being high, but let it go. “Have you never made it snow or frozen a lake? Never seen your breath fog despite the heat?”

“Oh, no, I’ve done that. I just didn’t realize it was a common thing,” said Danny, but he remembered his core resonating with this particular piece of the zone, feeling a sense of comfort and warmth despite the intense cold. “I–can all of you do that, too?”

Frostbite laughed, then, as he held up his arm. “Was that not obvious, Danny Fenton?”

“Just Danny, seriously,” he grumbled, “and I guess it should’ve been, but I really don’t know anything about this. I could never make something like that - the best I can do is freeze stuff sometimes.”

“Perhaps we should teach you, then,” offered Frostbite. “Ice can have great power when appropriately directed and–oh.” He stopped, glancing at Danny and then back at the screen. “Danny, I’m sorry.”

“Bad news, then?” He chuckled weakly. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Shouldn’t have let Nocturn manipulate him. How stupid. He could feel tears beginning to burn in the corner of his eyes, but he bit his lip and pushed it down, trying not to let it overwhelm him. But his voice still cracked as he replied, “I assumed it would be and that Nocturn was lying about me still being alive, too. You don’t have to apologize.”

“It’s not that, precisely,” said Frostbite. “The damage wrought upon you was severe. Plasmius did not destroy your core, but it is fractured, and your heart is severely injured. With your core in its current state, I am not certain that you will survive even with intervention.”

Danny blinked, sitting up on the table and staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait, so Nocturn was telling the truth? I’m still–I’m not dead?”

“You are not,” said Frostbite, giving him a strangely endearing yet terrifying grin. “At least not yet. I suspect your inability to reach your human half is your body instinctively keeping you from doing further harm to your core or your heart. Were you to transform, I do not think you would live through it. Please do not attempt to do so right now even if you do begin to sense your humanity again, Danny.”

“Great, so I might as well be dead, then.” He leaned over, running his fingers through his hair and trying not to cry. Was this really better? Learning his core was damaged enough that technically being alive still didn’t matter anyway? “This sucks.”

“Please do not despair. We can assist you here,” said Frostbite, and Danny looked up at him as Cujo jumped back onto the table and leaned hard into his side, and Danny scratched him behind the ears, welcoming something else to focus on as his mind reeled. “We will need to repair the damage to your core. It will require extensive surgery and then you will need to spend some time in a recovery chamber.”

“But I’ll be okay, then?” 

“Assuming the surgery goes well, then yes,” said Frostbite. “Once your core is fully repaired, the rest of you should heal. We can monitor your progress and advise you of when it may be safe for you to attempt your transformation.”

“I–how long?” 

“I cannot say for certain,” said Frostbite as Danny scratched behind Cujo’s ears. “A few weeks, perhaps? Much of it will depend on how well the surgery goes. But we do not have to do this. Your core may heal on its own eventually, but I doubt it would be fast enough for your human half to recover.”

Oh. So he might not disappear then, at least, but it didn’t matter. He had to take the chance, and he pushed down the fear and uneasiness gnawing at his gut, the anxiety over what his family would say and do if he returned. He needed to do this. He needed to try, for his sake and theirs. “I’ll do it.” 

Frostbite nodded. “Excellent.”

“When can we schedule it?”

“I can have a team ready within a few hours. I would not advise delaying much beyond that, though if you need to attend to things first, we can schedule it for tomorrow or the day after,” said Frostbite. Danny gripped Cujo, and the dog let out a small whine as Danny squeezed him too tightly, but he struggled to loosen his grip, his nerves getting the best of him. No time to tell his family and friends first, but maybe that was for the best. He didn’t want to needlessly get their hopes up in case everything went wrong, and Danny wasn’t sure that they would be remotely accepting of the idea of ghostly doctors or surgeons, of the idea that he might not be dead when he still couldn’t transform. They might assume he was in denial about his own death, and given that some part of him was still in denial about being alive . . . no, he wouldn’t talk to them. Not yet. 

“No, that sounds fine. Thank you, Frostbite,” said Danny. 

He spent the next few hours in the lab as Frostbite’s team prepared him for the surgery. They asked dozens of questions that helped keep him distracted, particularly about the threads in his chest (apparently stitches weren’t a thing here), and walked him through the procedure. He struggled to understand it, honestly, but his options were limited at this point. Either they would save him or they wouldn’t, and so he simply moved through the motions with them, trying to be as patient as he could. 

“You should know, Danny, that there is a chance this may fail,” said Frostbite as they prepared to put him under. “You may not survive, even as a ghost.”

“I figured. I–it’s fine, Frostbite. Let’s do this,” he said as he swallowed, and then he felt himself grow drowsy as the anesthesia took effect, falling into a deep sleep, his dreams full of stars and unexplored worlds, of seeing his family and friends, of being accepted fully for who and what he was. 

And then there was a sharp, painful yanking, jarring and disorienting. His eyes fluttered open, and he was immersed in some kind of liquid. Danny could see Frostbite, or maybe another member of the Far Frozen with an ice hand, dimly outside of the glass. Something was wrong. What was wrong? Was he–did he–and then he realized what the awful pulling was. 

He was being summoned, but unlike every other attempt, he could not refuse it. They had his true name, spoken correctly. They were a liminal, walking the razor’s edge between worlds as he did.

And so he went, caught in a trap and certain that it could only be Vlad, no doubt ready to finally finish him off for good.

Chapter Text

As they sat in the living room reviewing their options, Valerie did not feel overly optimistic. 

The good news? Their families were okay. Sam and Tucker’s parents confirmed they were fine, and Valerie’s Dad was hiding and safe. She begged her to stay beneath the ghost shield at FentonWorks on the phone, not wanting her to risk trying to come to him while the skeletons were out patrolling, and for now, at least, she didn’t argue with him.  

But beyond that, there was very little news worth celebrating. So far it seemed like there were only a handful of serious injuries and no deaths, and they had the ring that Pariah Dark wanted, too. It provided a bargaining chip, but even with the ring they would still be expected to surrender. Maybe Pariah Dark wouldn’t kill them if he got it back, but she doubted he would show much mercy or leave Amity Park in peace. The ghosts had nothing kind to say about the ghostly tyrant.

She tried, of course, to convince them, too, but the ghosts were immovable and even offended by the attempt. “Danny would want you to help us, you know,” she said once, and it felt low to say it even as the words came out of her mouth. The ghosts shut her down hard, disparaging her for using her friend that way before pushing her out the door. 

“You couldn’t have done any worse than I did,” mumbled Jazz as she drank a cup of coffee. They were exhausted, having been up now past midnight. The Fright Knight set tomorrow as their deadline for surrender, and it was looking more and more likely by the moment that they were going to be forced to acquiesce to Pariah Dark’s demands. Glancing outside, Val watched as a couple of skeletons walked past the shield, pushing a hand against it before jerking back in pain and moving along. She remembered her own pain, then, as she crossed through it earlier. The ghost tech, the ecto-contamination . . . how human was she anymore? She wished again that Danny was here, though not because she wanted his help so much as she wanted someone who she could commiserate with. Danny was the only one who could understand what it was like to be less than human. She wished he told her the truth. She wished she’d proven herself deserving enough to hear it before he died. 

She supposed that Vlad might understand, too, but he was hardly an encouraging example of what a supernatural influence could do to a person. They would not let him out of the thermos any time soon. If they all survived this, the ghosts suggested they would be happy to make him suffer for releasing Pariah Dark upon everyone once more. After Danny’s death, she had found herself outside Vlad’s mansion a few times, contemplating ending him and the threat he presented once and for all. She hadn’t–killing a human felt wrong, even if Vlad was a monster–but a part of her wondered now if she’d made a mistake, if she should have been willing to take the shot rather than working with Mrs. Fenton to make the GIW do the dirty work for them instead because of how Vlad reacted. 

“How’s your arm?” asked Sam, slumped back on the couch, her feet resting on the coffee table, and Tucker sat beside her, sleeping on her shoulder and snoring softly despite his best efforts to stay awake. She didn’t have a clue how he could possibly sleep at all right now, her own stomach in knots. 

“Not great.” She knew the break couldn’t be too bad - a fracture, maybe, and there was at least no sign of bone trying to penetrate her skin - but it ached powerfully, the handful of over the counter meds helping but not doing nearly as much as she would like. “But I heal pretty fast and I’ll be okay for a little while. Any idea what your parents are up to, Jazz?”

“Working on the ecto skeleton,” she said. “It’s like a power suit thing. It multiplies the power of the person wearing it at least tenfold. Dad wore it once before to test it and it almost killed him. Mom’s trying to talk him out of using it unless they can figure out the power draw issues.”

“Any other options at this point?” 

“Get the A-listers to help fight? Star did a good job with that baseball bat,” said Sam meekly, and Val half-smiled as she thought about her friend. People underestimated Star a lot. It was a mistake. But even considering, she and most other humans weren’t in a good spot to fight back against Pariah Dark. Valerie couldn’t even manage the Fright Knight earlier, let alone whatever monstrous ghost commanded him. “But seriously? I don’t know. With us in the Ghost Zone, we can’t even count on the Guys in White for help, and none of us can get through to the ghosts.”

Val bit her lip, considering. “Danny could convince them, you know.”

“Oh, not this again,” Sam groaned, and Tucker shifted, his eyes blinking as he woke up.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“Everything is still shit and Val wants to convince Danny to help,” sighed Sam.

“Is he here?” he asked, snapping to attention a bit faster, but his face fell as he looked around the room and didn’t spot him. “Oh. Guess not.”

“Right. So even if I agreed, it doesn’t matter. We can’t summon him,” said Sam, “and there’s no way we’re going to let that creep out so he can do it.”

“Vlad isn’t our only option,” said Val. She tried not to squirm as Jazz’s eyes locked onto her, understanding dawning. “I could do it. I think.”

The room fell silent. She knew she was right. Whatever she was now, she wasn’t human, at least not fully. The ghostly nanobots in her bloodstream changed her, just as the portal changed Danny. She didn’t have all the weird traits he did, not by a long shot, but the feeling of the shield on her skin and her suit and her low-levels of permanent, ecto contamination all pointed to her being something different. Even the Ghost Zone had an uneasy sense of welcoming and familiarity when she went into it when they decided to search for Danny, much as the mere thought of thinking of that place as a second home made her skin crawl. She wondered how long it had been happening, if there had been some critical turning point she missed, but she didn’t know. Would she have stopped using the suit and hunting the ghosts if there was and she had known about it? Maybe before, but now? Knowing about Danny and what he was before he died made it both more and less frightening, somehow. 

“We’d need his true name,” she said, not willing to keep sitting in silence. “I didn’t understand it when he said it before in ghost speech. Did either of you?”

“He told us once, in English,” confirmed Sam. Ah. Of course it was different now that it was a real option. “I still don’t like it. It feels wrong to make him come back for this, and I really don’t think that you’re a liminal, Val.”

“Maybe not, but I’m the closest thing we’ve got,” she said, barely forcing the words out. “And maybe it’s enough.”

“He’d want to help,” said Jazz. “He wouldn’t have spent all that time fighting ghosts as Phantom if he didn’t have some desire to keep everyone safe.”

“You mean you want him to come back so you can see him again,” said Sam. “You’re more obvious than you think, Jazz.”

“Is that wrong, though?” asked Tucker. “For us to want it, too? I–I think Val’s right. I think we’re stuck with a lot of bad options. This one, it’s . . . not good, okay, but it’s better than a lot of the other ones we have right now. If Danny can convince the ghosts to fight, to work with us against Pariah Dark, then we might stand a chance. But without it, I don’t see how we’re going to win this fight even if Mr. Fenton does try to use that ecto skeleton thing. Do you have any other ideas?”

Sam sulked for a moment before crossing her arms over her chest, scowling. “No. Of course I don’t. It's just–I hate it. And how do we know it won’t just make the ghosts angry instead? They seemed pretty insistent that we leave him alone after he died.”

“We don’t, but does it matter? They’re already not helping, and I doubt we can make it much worse,” said Val. She didn’t know how she felt about it, honestly. If it worked and Danny came, if he had no choice but to come, then it would be the final, definitive proof that she was a liminal, too. Like Danny. Like Vlad. She didn’t know what to do with that information as she let out a shaky breath. “But we are going to do this, right?”

“Do what?” She jumped as Mrs. Fenton spoke, her tone frosty. The Fentons were always so kind, so warm, and although she knew Danny’s death took a piece of all of them that day, she hadn’t realized how many more pieces it would take from his parents and sister, at times the three of them barely recognizable as the people they once were.

“I want to try to summon Danny,” said Val. “To see if he’ll convince the ghosts to help us fight back.”

She expected an argument, but instead, Mrs. Fenton nodded as Mr. Fenton followed her into the living room and sat down beside her. “That’s good. We have the ecto skeleton, but without some kind of backup, we won’t be able to use it long enough to make a difference.”

“You fixed the power supply problem?” said Jazz.

“No. I–your father’s installed a monitor,” said Mrs. Fenton, her entire body tense. “It’ll show when he or I have used too much energy, and give us a chance to remove the suit before it kills us.”

“That’s still too risky, Mom!” said Jazz. “You can’t–”

“--what if a ghost wore it?” asked Val, swallowing uneasily. She would normally offer to do it, but with her broken arm she’d be worse than useless as the key fighter on the field. It had to be someone else. Or something else. “If Danny can convince one of them, then maybe they could do it instead. They can’t die, after all.”

“But it could destabilize them,” said Mr. Fenton. “There’s no guarantee they would survive.”

“Besides, which ghost would you even trust with it? Technus? He’d use it to try and conquer the world no matter what he promised Danny,” scoffed Sam, and then Valerie had a very terrible or at least, a very gross idea.

“What about Danny, then?” Even as she said the words, she hated herself for it. Immediately every person in the room was staring at her, and she tried not to shrivel up under their gazes. “He’s already dead, and he would do it. No matter how much he might’ve changed already since he became a full ghost, there’s no way he’d want his family and friends to die if he could do something to stop it, and we wouldn’t have to worry about him going on a rampage, either. That’s not–it’s not a thing he would do. Ever.”

“No,” said Mrs. Fenton without the slightest hint of hesitation. “I don’t want to bring him back here only to fight. He’s been through enough. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“But doesn’t he deserve the chance to make that choice?” insisted Valerie. Oh, how she hated herself for making the argument, but it was true. If Val could do it, she would in an instant. She knew how much she and Danny were alike, how stubborn they were, and how dedicated they were to protecting the people they cared about. Danny would never forgive himself if he knew his family and friends died while he hid in the Ghost Zone. His being a ghost shouldn’t matter, not really. Wasn’t that what he spent all this time trying to teach them? That while the ghosts were different, they had by far more in common with humans than people thought, that the ghosts were capable of so much more than they gave them credit for? Or was she just making the argument now since it was convenient and gave them a possible way out of this, however small it might be?

“No.” Jazz’s voice was quiet yet firm. “We can’t put him through that. Seeing all of us, forcing him to fight some nightmarish ghost just because we can’t figure out a better plan, it’s not right. We can’t. And we don’t even know what kind of condition he’s in after what happened to him. Most new ghosts are pretty weak.”

“Then he can just see me when I summon him, and besides, I’m not saying we’re going to force him,” argued Val. “I don’t want to make him do anything, okay? But the decision should be his.”

“You’re only saying that because you know he’ll say yes,” said Tucker. “Like, c’mon, Val. We can’t do that.”

Maybe he couldn’t, but Val could. And would, even if she didn’t tell them. “Fine,” she snapped with a scowl, throwing her hands up and trying to make them believe as much as possible that she would not ask Danny to put on the suit. “But do we still want to have him ask the ghosts for help? Is that okay, at least?”

“We need the help. I won’t have you ask him to fight, Valerie, but if he’s willing to talk to the other ghosts, then we should do it,” said Mrs. Fenton as she put her head in her hands, and Mr. Fenton rubbed her back gently with one hand. “How do we do this?”

“I just need some candles to set up a circle, but I should do it alone,” said Val, and she could see them all about to object but she held up her good hand. “No, seriously. We don’t–we should be as respectful as possible. We shouldn’t be doing this at all, not really, but it’s the best of a lot of bad options. I don’t want to make it any harder on Danny than it needs to be.”

She expected an argument, an accusation that she was using this as a way to ask about the ecto skeleton, but once again no push back came. Either they were even more trusting than Danny was, or they knew what he was going to do and secretly wanted her to do it, anyway. “Okay,” said Mr. Fenton softly. “Where do you want to do this, then?”

“His room,” she said immediately. “It still feels like him, and it’ll make this easier.” She didn’t know how she knew it was the right choice, but it was. “Why don’t the rest of you stay down here or in the lab? Someone should at least keep an eye on Vlad. Sometimes the ghosts can get out of those stupid things.”

“We have him in a containment field, too, but we’ll go,” said Mrs. Fenton. “There are a few more things we could try to fix the issue with the ecto skeleton, too.”

“We’ll stay down here,” said Jazz, and Valerie gathered the supplies she needed while confirming Danny’s true name with Sam and Tucker. She couldn’t say it in ghost speech - or at least she didn’t think she could. She hadn’t understood it when Danny said it all those months ago in his living room to them, and as she tried to think of how he pronounced it, her brain revolted. She wasn’t a ghost. Different, but not as much as Danny. Hopefully, her not-quite-liminal status would be enough.

When she opened the door to Danny’s room, she found herself standing in what was functionally a shrine. Very little had been touched or moved since his last day here, and the star stickers glowed brightly on the ceiling. A half-finished model rocket that sat on his desk for the better part of a year was still there, a tiny closed bottle of miniature paint beside it. His bed was made, though, which she couldn’t remember Danny ever actually doing, and his laundry basket was emptied by someone, probably one of his parents.

But the strange atmosphere that constantly permeated his space still hung over his room despite Danny’s long absence. It always felt cold, but it never bothered her, the sensation more like a pleasant breeze on a fall day, the first snowflake in winter to land on her tongue, the joy of skating across the ice or sledding down a hill . . . She shivered at the memory of it and the present reality and rubbed her arms as she began to set up the summoning circle.

Sam really hadn’t done it right when she tried a few months ago and managed to call Phantom. Sam was something of a hobbyist with it, interested because she found the occult fascinating, but Valerie . . . She committed to learning everything she could back in middle school when she spent half of her weekends stuck hanging out with Paulina and Sam at their parents’ parties. Back then Valerie hoped that she could use it to bring her mom back however briefly, to hug her again when she still missed her so much that every inch of her ached with the absence. It never worked, of course. Her mom probably wasn’t a ghost, and Valerie was still a perfectly ordinary pre-teen girl back then. Looking back, Valerie was kind of glad it didn’t work. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to let her go or move on if her mom did appear.

But now, with Danny? She wasn’t afraid to call him back. She wanted to see him again, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it, yet at the end of this Valerie knew that he could not stay. She only hoped she was strong enough to let him go when it was done. 

She whispered the words, letting the call run and carry it into the deepest parts of the Ghost Zone. She spoke his name, the liminal who creates and shatters the stars, wondering only for a moment if it was still the right name because he wasn’t technically a liminal anymore, but then she could feel something on the other end, a sense of shock, surprise, and terror. The fear surprised her until she remembered that Danny didn’t know about her, that he must think she was Vlad, but she could not stop the summons at this point as it flowed beyond her, past her, and pulled Danny forcefully until he appeared. Like last time, there was no brilliant flash of light, no smoke or mist or unpleasant odors. The circle was empty one moment, and then in the next it wasn’t, and Danny sat in front of her, his eyes wide as he took in his surroundings.

His hair was a shock of brilliant white and his eyes glowed green, casting strange shadows on his pale skin, and there was an ugly scar on the center of his bare chest that she recognized all too well from when she found his body in the park after Vlad murdered him. A strange, fern-like pattern wove its way up his left arm until it ended abruptly at the center of his chest, glowing and pulsing with ectoplasmic energy, and she caught a small glimpse of the scar on his hand, a tiny galaxy in miniature. He looked soaked, as if he were swimming when she summoned him, and he winced as he tried to see past the light of the candles. There were a lot of things she had considered saying to him, apologies and words about how much she missed him and how they made Vlad suffer for what he did, but instead, she blurted out the first thing, the most absurd and ridiculous and pointless thing, that came to mind. 

“Why are you only wearing underwear?”

Chapter Text

“Valerie?” Her name echoed through the room as he stared, trying to see past the candles into the dim space, barely understanding her as she spoke for a minute. He could always see easily in the dark as a ghost, but his eyes struggled to adapt to the bright flames and the room beyond the circle of candles surrounding him. “Are we in my room?”

“It seemed like the best place to do this,” she said. “You’re supposed to do it somewhere the ghost has a strong emotional connection to if you can. But, um, you didn’t answer my question. Do they like not let you wear real clothes?”

He glanced down at himself, his brain still foggy from being in the rehabilitation chamber, and felt a weird compulsion to answer her directly that he hadn’t felt the last time he was in a circle like this. He suspected if he tried to leave, too, he wouldn’t be able to, or at least not without her permission. Crud. “No, they do, I just needed surgery and they have this–”

“--surgery?!” she interrupted, and he winced. “Wait, what happened?”

“Vlad shot me, obviously,” he said, tapping his chest and feeling an echo of it reverberate in the room around him, a hint of an impression, although he realized as he said it that she might not actually know how he almost died. He worried about having to go into a long explanation, but as he watched Val looked completely unsurprised. “It damaged my core, so I had to get it healed, and, um, hang on.” He paused, going intangible to let the fluid from the tank fall off him and onto the circle around him. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to be wet anymore.”

“That’s a pretty cool trick. It’d be nice if I could do that,” she said. “Do you know how long it takes my hair to dry?”

“No.” 

She blinked. “You know that wasn’t a serious question, right?”

“Yeah, but–I don’t think I’m getting a choice about answering your questions right now.”

“Oh, nooo, Danny, I didn’t—I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “You don’t have to answer every question, okay? If you don’t want to.” The weight pressing down on his chest vanished, then, and if he could breathe, he would.

“It’s okay, well, no, it’s not, but it doesn’t matter. How did you summon me? Did something happen to you? Are you a liminal now? And, I  . . . do you know? About me, from–y’know? Before? About what I was and, um, who?” He knew he didn’t look the same outside the Hazmat suit, and Danny still didn’t know if the surgery succeeded, but given how easily he used his powers a second ago he felt pretty optimistic about at least his core being healed. Whether his human half was there, though, was less clear, and so far he hadn’t managed to work up the courage to check. 

“I know about you. I–I was mad, y’know,” she said slowly, staring off. “That you didn’t tell me, that you never trusted me, that you dated me and lied to me and I . . .” She stopped, shaking her head. “But more than that, I hate that you didn’t tell me because I could’ve hurt you, Danny, even though I . . . on the one hand, I get it. Why you didn’t say anything to me or anyone else, and I’m sorry, too. That you–about everything I did, that you felt like you couldn’t trust me. About how we must’ve made you feel. Your parents and sister know, too. And Sam and Tucker. But we didn’t tell anyone else.”

“It’s okay,” he said, despite not being entirely sure how much it was, but he felt a tiny sense of relief that his secret was still somewhat intact. He wasn’t sure he could deal with it if everyone in Amity Park suddenly knew exactly who and what he was, even if he still might be dead and it might not matter much. “But–Val . . . what about you? You still didn’t say, but you summoned me and I couldn’t refuse, which means that you–Did something happen?” He didn’t want to ask if she almost died, his core twinging at the thought of her nearly being killed while he was gone. 

“No, not like you’re thinking. It’s the suit, I guess,” she said. “Your parents said something about how the tech makes me kind of liminal and has left me with low levels of ecto contamination, too. I don’t really get it, but they must be at least a little right because you’re here.” She frowned, then. “Look, much as I like seeing you with a shirt off, did you want some clothes or something? Or can you make them appear?”

“Clothes would be awesome,” he laughed, cheeks flushing as she scrambled to her feet and rummaged through his drawers. Watching her move awkwardly, he finally noticed her arm resting in a sling, and his chest ached again, realizing that she had definitely been hurt recently given the quality of the sling. “Val, what happened to your arm?”

“Ghost attack, what else?” she said, shrugging, and as he watched her in silence for a minute while she dug through his dresser, everything hit him at once. He missed his family and friends so much, and even seeing just Valerie made him ache, the realization of precisely what he’d lost so obvious now. In the Ghost Zone it was easy to forget in a way, to drift and pretend like maybe they were even better off without him, but now? She walked over and handed him one of his old NASA hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, her hand brushing against his for a moment, and then he couldn’t help himself as he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, careful not to put pressure on her arm.

She didn’t fight it, instead simply leaning into it and holding him, her nails on her good hand digging into his back as she held onto him as hard as she could, obviously not wanting to let him go, to risk him disappearing again, and he couldn’t help the few tears that fell. “Damn it, Danny, why’d you have to die?” she whispered in his ear.

“I didn’t exactly plan on it.” They held each other for a few minutes before she finally let go, and he carefully pulled on the clothes, trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally knock over any of the candles and set something on fire. “I’d argue, in fact, that I was pretty solidly against it, but Vlad . . . he caught me off guard.”

“What–what happened?” 

“You really want to sit through a full death echo right now?” he asked. He knew from his first day in the Ghost Zone that while Vlad might not have succeeded in killing him, he came close enough to leave deep scars, both physical and psychological ones that he doubted would ever truly heal. And even now, Danny still couldn’t work up the courage to look for his own humanity, that warmth inside of himself since he woke up a few minutes ago, since even if he did get an answer it might not be clear just what it meant. If his core didn’t have enough time to heal, then he probably wouldn’t sense that spark, but if it did and he still couldn’t transform, well, that was it. He would be dead. Really, truly dead. And even if he did find that tiny glimmer of his own living half, there was still a risk that transforming would kill him, anyway, if he wasn’t healed enough.

“Not really, but if you want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen,” she said. “I should’ve listened to you about Mr. Masters, too, back when you warned me as Phantom, but as long as he was giving me the tools to do what I wanted to do, I didn’t question it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Val,” said Danny. It was strange to hear her apologize so much to him, especially since Danny wasn’t sure if she should be. He’d kept his secret for too long, and it was only now that he realized how many people were hurt because of it, from him to Val to his other friends and family. Danny couldn’t change it, but he didn’t have to let her take all of the blame for everything that went wrong. “He was going to find out eventually, and what happened to me isn’t your fault or anyone else’s, okay?” He tucked his legs up to his chest, letting his head rest on his knees. “Was that–is that why you summoned me, though? To apologize?”

“Of course not,” she chuckled bitterly. “Maybe it should’ve been, but we wanted to let you rest and have some chance at peace. And we would have, but things are . . . they’re bad right now. Really bad. So while I’m sorry we made you come here, we do need your help.”

And so she explained about Pariah Dark’s escape and Vlad’s capture and their entire revenge plot against him (the news of which made him strangely elated and sad, though he could not say exactly why). She talked about the ring Vlad stole, the Fright Knight, and the demands made upon Amity Park. He could feel his core aching, his obsession driving him to fix it, somehow, but even if his obsession wasn’t screaming at him he would still want to do something, anything, to keep his family and friends safe. He loved them too much not to try and help, and having died (or at least almost died) more than once now, he didn’t want anyone else to experience that suffering, that pain and the loneliness that came with it. “What do you need from me?” he asked. “I’m not sure I can fight. I’ve been recovering, but I don’t know how much I’ve healed and I might not be able to do much.”

“Your family and Sam and Tucker want me to ask you to talk to the other ghosts to see if you can convince them to help us fight against Pariah Dark,” said Val, and he cocked an eyebrow at her, noting how she left herself out of that little statement. 

“And you?”

“I want you to do the same thing, but also . . . there’s something else, too. I want to give you the choice, okay? You don’t have to do it, your family doesn’t even want me to ask you to do it, but I think you deserve to get to make the decision for yourself since I know what I would do if I had the choice,” she said. “Your parents have this invention called an ecto skeleton. Do you know about it?”

Danny nodded. The day his Dad tested it felt like it happened a hundred years ago now, but he remembered it almost killing his Dad. “Yeah. Did they ever fix the issue with the energy consumption?”

“No.”

Ah. “You want me to use it since I’m already dead?” It wasn’t really a question, of course. That was exactly what she wanted, and he knew it.

“I think if you don’t, your Dad or Mom is going to try to use it instead,” said Valerie. “Things are bad enough out there that I might try, even with my broken arm, although I doubt I’ll get very far.”

It struck him hard, pulling on the right notes, and his obsession was a roar, now, begging and pleading with him to do it, to protect them, to protect everyone and their dreams for the future. He squirmed, not wanting to give into it so readily, not wanting to commit himself to whatever death or end might await until he knew for sure what to expect, because he realized now that he mattered, too. But he also knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let his family and friends die if he could help, obsession or not. “What happens if I do? You said my parents were against it, so I’m guessing that even though I can’t die from it, my using it still won’t be good, will it?”

“It’s never been tested on a ghost, Danny, but they think there’s a good chance you would destabilize if you used too much power,” said Val. “I don’t want that for you, so if you say no I understand. We could try to figure out something else.”

“Oh.” Should he tell her that there was a chance he might be alive still? Was there any point to it if he already made up his mind? Closing his eyes, he let out a long, slow breath as he took the plunge and sought out that light, that warmth he always felt in his ghost form since the very first time he transformed until Vlad’s blast injured his heart and core.

And his eyes snapped open, glowing brilliantly, as he found it. 

“Danny?” 

“Can you–can you give me a minute alone?” he asked. “To think about it?” 

“Of course,” she said, and then she walked over and blew out one of the candles. “You should be able to leave the circle now, I think. I’ll come back in a few minutes if you don’t come find me, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Val.” He watched in silence as she walked out the door, and then after she was gone he paused for a second, considering if this was the right thing to do or not given what Frostbite told him, and found that he did not care as he let his fingers grasp that light within himself, extending it outward into two, brilliant rings that traveled over him until standing in the circle was no longer Danny Phantom, but Danny Fenton.

A very human, very alive Danny Fenton. 

“I’m not–I’m really not dead,” he whispered softly, his hands going to his mouth, and he walked over to his mirror and stared at the black-haired, blue-eyed version of himself. His fingers brushed against his own reflection as he breathed, a strange sort of wonder that this time it wasn’t out of mere habit but necessity. Carefully, he placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating slowly but steadily, the air filling his lungs. For one minute, he let himself feel and be human again and alive again. He didn’t want to lose this yet. He wanted to be here, with his family and friends, but . . . but they didn’t need Danny Fenton right now, did they?

They needed a ghost, and one willing to risk being permanently destabilized thanks to his intense obsession with protecting his loved ones and all of their hopes and dreams.  

Would Valerie ask him to do this still if she knew he wasn’t really dead? His family wasn’t even willing to ask the question, but he doubted they would say no if he offered to take up the ecto skeleton and fight. Would he really be saving them by sacrificing himself, sacrificing everything again? “I’m sorry,” he said, to no one, really, and there was no echo, no ghostliness as tears burned in his eyes and he hid his face in his hands. 

Didn’t he deserve a life? A chance to find new dreams and hopes and something he could live for? 

Of course. He knew he did, in a way he hadn’t believed before now, not in a long time, and with a shock he realized that the hollowness, the emptiness, the void that led him to consuming dreams and craving more was little more than a whisper now, almost entirely gone. He wanted, desperately , to live and dream and be. To go to school, celebrate holidays and birthdays with his family, to learn how to bake and play guitar and play video games with his friends and maybe even kiss a girl or a boy and–

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, then, but he laughed as pure, intense joy bubbled up to the surface, at just the sheer strangeness and delight of being alive as he wiped his tears away and hugged himself tightly. There wasn’t time to enjoy this. To revel in it beyond this mere gasp, this mere glimpse of what could be, or maybe what could have been, and he let out one more exhale, one more slow breath as he felt his heart beat in his chest. 

And then he reached for the ice inside of himself, the winter and the cold, the sense of death and an unchanging eternity, and pulled, letting the rings cascade back over him and stopping his heart, his lungs, while his core sang and hummed in his chest, and his reflection went from a living, teenage boy to a ghost. To his surprise, he wasn’t in the Hazmat suit he knew so well, at least not aside from the pants and boots. He wore the shirt Ember gave him, even though he shouldn’t have been able to since it ought to be back in Frostbite’s lab somewhere, far from home. 

And as he pulled down the top of the shirt, he could see the scar from where Vlad struck him, still. He didn’t know what it meant. Why it changed, why he wasn’t in the clothes Val gave him or his full Hazmat suit from before, but there wasn’t time to make sense of it, and yet again Danny desperately wished he had another day or even another hour to live. 

“Danny?” Valerie knocked, and then opening the door she stopped when she saw him and stared. “Did you get changed?”

“I guess? I didn’t mean to,” he said, laughing sadly. “But I want to do it, Val. I want to help.”

“You’ll use the ecto skeleton?”

“Yeah, Val, I will. But let me talk to the ghosts first, okay? We’ll need all the help we can get.” 

“Sure. They’re in the Ops Center,” she said, and as he started to leave she stopped him. “And Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I know that–I mean–just thank you, okay? I’ll be out there with you, too. No matter what. And, um . . . try not to destabilize. Your parents said they put a thing in there to track the power consumption, so you should have enough warning to get out before it happens,” she said, but she sounded doubtful, maybe rightfully so. It wasn’t as if his parents ever tested the suit on a ghost.

“I’ll try,” he promised, giving her one last quick, awkward hug, and then he flew up to the Ops Center.

The reaction from the ghosts was instantaneous. “ They brought you here?! ”

“How dare they, I’ll–”

“--that hunter girl,  she tried to use your memory to–”

“--guys, stop!” he shouted, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s fine. I’m fine , okay? I get why they did it, and I would’ve been mad if they hadn’t. But they’re not wrong. I need your help.”

“You’re going to fight, whelp? Listen, you’ve impressed me countless times, but you are not powerful enough to defeat Pariah Dark,” said Skulker. “He’s destroyed ghosts and liminals much stronger than you, and from what the humans said, he defeated Plasmius, who has already proven himself in combat against you. There is no way you can defeat him, ghost child.”

“My parents have this suit they made that’ll amplify my power,” argued Danny. “It might not be enough, but I have to try. The alternative is that everyone in both this world and the Ghost Zone will end up suffering for centuries. But I can’t fight Pariah Dark, the Fright Knight, and an army by myself. My parents, my friends, my sister . . . they’ll help. But I don’t think we can do it alone. I understand if you won’t. I–I don’t want to force you or make you risk yourselves that way. But if you’re willing, then . . . then I’d appreciate whatever you are willing to do.”

Ember rolled her eyes as she stepped forward. “Fine, kid. I’ll fight some skeletons, but if that creepy king comes near me, I’m booking it. Understand?”

“I have always wanted to challenge the Fright Knight. He is a fairly unusual foe,” offered Skulker, and Danny stared at him in awe. From what Val suggested, the ghosts were completely unwilling to even consider it before now. He didn’t understand why his words held so much weight with them, why they cared so much, but he couldn’t ask as more of the specters stepped forward, offering to join the fight. 

“We can smash some skeleton heads in,” offered Kitty, a bat materializing.

“I’ve been wanting to throw some meat patties of doom!” 

And it continued, until every ghost in the Ops Center agreed to help, including Technus and others that he barely developed any connection with before this, and while they were still outnumbered by a wide margin, Danny knew that at least they now had a fighting chance.

“I don’t get it,” he said after they finished, unable to help himself. He needed to know. “Why would you do all this for me?”

“You’re going to fight, too, aren’t you?” said Ember, and he nodded. “Right. Besides, I’ve said it before. We all have. You’re the only one that’s ever believed we could be different.”

“But Jazz and Valerie asked, too, and–”

“--they did not. They were rather angry and demanding,” said the Lunch Lady. “Quite rude, in fact, and disrespectful with how they tried to use the memory of you to manipulate us.”

“They saw us as tools, Sir Phantom, not as the spirits we are,” added Queen Dora. “They did not ask .”

“I–thanks,” he said, understanding settling in. If his sister still wanted to be a therapist for ghosts, she had a long way to go, and Val . . . well, he doubted she harbored any such aspirations. She would probably be fine, at least, but if she really was a liminal, too, then maybe he should nudge her to try a bit harder to connect to them if he somehow survived all this. “I have to go to the lab and get the suit. Valerie said the Fright Knight was at the school, by the football field. I’m guessing Pariah Dark will be close to there, too.”

“We shall meet you there and join you in the field of battle at the appropriate time,” said Queen Dora, and one by one the ghosts vanished, leaving him alone. For one last time, he let himself feel that flutter of warmth in his chest before phasing through the floor and into the basement, staying invisible, and then . . . oh. 

His chest ached more than he thought possible when he saw them. His parents were working on the suit, quietly arguing over which one would use it. Sam, Tucker, Val, and Jazz were pulling weapons out of the cabinets, discussing which ones would be best, and for some reason they weren’t willing to defer to Val’s opinion on it despite her being the only tried and true ghost hunter out of the four of them. 

And there, sitting on a table in the center of the lab within a containment field, was a thermos which no doubt contained Vlad Masters. His murderer. For one, brief second Danny fantasized about chucking it into the sun, and then pushed that thought aside. There would be time to deal with Vlad later. Maybe not for him, but someone else could handle him as long as Vlad remained contained.

He planned to move towards the suit, but then something caught his eye. Sitting on a table outside the containment field was a small green and black ring with a skull engraved on it. The Ring of Rage. He could feel a pull from it, whispers that tugged powerfully at his core. They weren’t thoughts of ruining and destroying everything like he expected from such an artifact; instead, the little thoughts that flitted to him from it were anger about this, about everything. About being only fifteen years old and being forced to sacrifice himself, a child (because the ghosts were not wrong, he was a child), to save his world from yet another ghost bent on destruction, and wasn’t that unfair? Maybe it didn’t have to be that way, it said quietly. Maybe it could help him. 

Danny bit his lip, feeling uneasy. He needed it to lure out Pariah Dark if nothing else, and so he grabbed it and tucked it away into a pocket of his pants while the others were distracted and reminded himself that he didn’t need to listen to it, that he could ignore it, since putting it on would be too risky and likely cause him to lose himself or start consuming dreams again or who knew what else that he didn’t want to risk. Walking over to the ecto skeleton, Danny realized there was no way for him to just take it, not while his parents were still fiddling with the controls, and that he would need to make himself appear before them. It wasn’t fair, to tease them this way, to make them think there was a chance he could return and be here with them even when he knew it wouldn’t last. The likelihood that he would survive this fight was practically nil.  

“Hi,” he said as he appeared, and his Dad yelped while his Mom almost dropped a soldering iron on her foot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

But he was cut off as his parents jumped to their feet and threw their arms around him, squeezing him so tightly he was lucky that he was in his ghost form right now or else he wouldn’t be able to breathe. 

“You made it,” Mom whispered, sobbing. “You didn’t destabilize. I know the ghosts said you didn’t, but I–but we–”

“I didn’t destabilize,” he said, choking on his words. He couldn’t tell them. They wouldn’t let him take the ecto skeleton if they knew he might only be half-dead still. 

Or maybe Danny didn’t want to know if they would still let him take it if they found out he was still only half-dead. He knew they loved him, knew they cared about him, and yet the last time he spoke to them, they still had a long way to go when it came to accepting and understanding the ghosts. That quiet, terrified voice, the one that constantly whispered in the back of his mind before Vlad tried to kill him and when no one knew the truth about who and what he was, wondered if his parents would prefer it if he were gone for good instead of a ghost. He didn’t want to know the answer. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, and so instead he smiled at them. “Thanks to you two, I managed to get through it, I think. I don’t remember much from that night, and I–I’m sorry I panicked.”

“Sorry we gave you so many reasons to panic,” said Mom.

“We missed you, kiddo,” said Dad, and then he felt more arms around him as Tucker and Sam and Jazz joined in, and for one minute he let himself enjoy it. He didn’t worry about if this was the right thing or if this would hurt them more or if it was a mistake. He couldn’t. He desperately needed this moment with them, just one chance to say goodbye, and maybe they needed that more than he realized, too. 

“What happened to the Hazmat suit?” asked Jazz when they finally stopped, wiping her tears on her sleeve. “I thought you–y’know. That it would come back or something?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I–something changed, I guess. It’s sort of a subconscious thing.”

“And your subconscious really likes Ember, apparently,” teased Tucker, punching him gently in the shoulder.

“She’s my friend,” said Danny, maybe a little too defensively. “She–I–she gave it to me. Kind of. I guess this isn’t the one she actually gave me? It’s confusing. But I don’t think there’s time to talk about it right now. I . . . I need to take the ecto skeleton.”

Instantly they turned on Valerie, who stood a little ways off. “You asked him to do it? I thought we agreed–”

“--he deserves to make the choice for himself,” she interrupted. “And he agreed.”

“Danny, if you get in the suit, you’ll destabilize once your core’s been drained,” said Mom. “Your father and I haven’t fixed the power supply issue.”

“So you’d rather go in there and die instead?” said Danny. “I heard you, when I first came down. You and Dad were arguing about which one of you should take it. You know it’s the only option, and that Valerie’s right. I am the best pick for it.”

“Danny, we just got you back,” said Tucker. “You can’t leave us again, not like this.”

“No, you didn’t,” he argued. Lied. He couldn’t tell them. “I can’t stay here, regardless, and being a ghost is–I hate it. It’s just endless, empty existence with no meaning. I don’t–I don’t want this.” Another lie, but one he knew they’d probably believe. His parents managed to come a long way in a very, very short time, but they had no reason to think that being a ghost was something anyone would ever want, not if they could make that decision for themselves. “This isn’t me or whoever I was, right? It’s just an echo, and at some point, I’m just going to be consumed by my obsession and end up completely unrecognizable. I–I’m sorry, okay? Please just let me do this. I got the other ghosts to agree to help. They’ll fight his army. I won’t be alone.”

“Okay, but you have to try not to push yourself too far,” his Dad said. “We put a monitor in there. It should tell you when you’ve gotten close. As long as your energy readings are at least over 5%, you–you should make it through it.”

His heart broke a little at hearing his Dad agree so easily after hearing his lies, at answering the question he didn’t want to ask, and there was an odd emotion roiling in his gut that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but this was what Danny needed to do. He couldn’t dwell on it. They were running out of time. “Jack, honey, we can’t–”

“--he’s a Fenton, Mads. Ghost hunting is in our blood,” he said. “And Valerie is right. He should get to make this choice, as long as he’s able to make it.”

“Danny, are you sure this is what you want?” asked Sam, squeezing his hand gently, and he looked at his friends, his family, and knew. Even if it killed him, he would save them every time. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Then let’s get you into the ecto skeleton,” said Jazz softly. “I’ll help.”

She walked over to him, his parents explaining how it worked and where the monitor was, focused on the battle at hand. No one wanted to think about what would happen to him or how this fight would almost certainly end. “Wish me luck,” he said, and he winced as he felt the neural interface snap into place, his eyes glowing brilliantly for a moment before returning to their normal intensity. He peered out through the clear dome at his family one last time as it powered up, and he could see the indicator his Dad mentioned in the corner. “I–if something does go wrong–um–I love you guys, okay? That’s–I didn’t say it enough before. I wish I had.”

“Don’t make wishes out loud in Amity Park!” said Tucker. “Even if Desiree is your friend. But we love you, too, man.”

“Come back alive, Danny,” said Val. “We’ll see you on the battlefield.”

With one last nod, he let out a long, shaky breath before turning the suit invisible and intangible and leaping through the ceiling.

Chapter Text

Locating Pariah Dark was the easy part.

The ectoskeleton provided him with an easy burst of speed and strength. He tried not to push it, not yet, knowing how fast his power could deplete if he wasn’t careful from having watched his Dad use the suit once long ago, but he still made it to the football field twice as fast as usual, and as he landed it only took him a minute before he spotted the Fright Knight, standing over his sword.

“I have the ring,” he said, holding it up from within the ectoskeleton so the Fright Knight could see it through the dome. “Where’s Pariah Dark?”

“Does Amity Park surrender to His Majesty’s Dark’s rule?” asked the knight coolly. 

“I can’t speak for the town,” said Danny. “I just want him to leave us and the Ghost Zone in peace.”

“Liminal child.” The voice seemed to echo through his bones, and Danny blinked as a massive ghost appeared beside the Fright Knight. Dressed in black armor with a black and red cape, the ghost had long green hair and massive horns, one of which appeared to be broken. A crown of fire hovered over his head as he drew a massive green sword and planted the tip gently in the field. “You dare presume to make demands of me?”

“Why not?” said Danny, desperately trying not to get spooked by the fact that apparently this ghost knew what he was despite Danny never meeting him before. Again. Ancient ghosts were the absolute worst. “You’re the King of Ghosts and you’re harassing and harming humans, which feels a bit like you’re overstepping, if you ask me.”

“The Earth and the Infinite Realms both require the guidance of a strong hand,” he said. “Only I can wield the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire and set them on their noble path.”

“Oh, you mean like you did before until the ghosts got pissed off and shoved you in a sarcophagus for a thousand years or whatever?” grumbled Danny. “Nobody likes it and nobody wants you here, whether human or ghost. So either you can go back to the Ghost Zone and let us live in peace, or I’ll stop you.”

Pariah Dark laughed. “You are quite brave, liminal child, for one whose heart is so weak.” Danny froze, wondering if somehow Pariah Dark knew about his injury or if he merely meant it in the metaphorical sense. “But though you possess great power, you lack the strength to defeat me.”

“Even if I use this?” He wiggled the ring between his fingers. 

“You do not have the will to make the Ring submit,” said Pariah. 

“I think I might, actually. Haven’t you ever heard how stubborn teenagers are?” he said. It wasn’t the same thing and he knew it, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t exactly in a rush to die and probably destabilize, if his Dad was right, though he couldn’t see a way out of this mess. He didn’t want to win the fight but lose himself by consuming dreams again or putting on the ring. He had no idea what it could do to him, but he doubted an artifact called ‘The Ring of Rage’ could lead to anything good. 

“Are you formally challenging His Majesty Pariah Dark in accordance with the rules set by the Ancients?” said the Fright Knight suddenly, and he saw the old ghost glare at him, although Danny had no clue why. He didn’t know what the Fright Knight meant, but he could tell Pariah Dark didn’t like it, and that was enough.

“I am.”

“Very well, then,” said Fright Knight, and a pulse went out from the sword, casting another green dome around the two of them and the football field and isolating him from everyone. Great. Hopefully this meant they couldn’t get hurt, at the very least, since Danny suspected this was going to be an ugly fight. “No one may interfere. Now begin!”

Danny blinked, and then suddenly Pariah Dark was on him, pulling his sword from the ground and swinging it hard, and Danny barely managed to get a shield up in time to block it. He didn’t think he put a lot of power behind it, but as he glanced at the screen he saw it dip by nearly 8% instantly. Between that and his trip over, he was already down to 89%. 

“Crud,” he mumbled, and as Pariah drew a second sword he jumped back, dodging the swings while charging an ectoblast. He fired it at the Ghost King, who grinned as he crossed his swords in front of him and retargeted the blast, sending it spiraling outside of the field of combat and past the shield, making Danny swear under his breath. Danny had hoped the odd shield erected by the Fright Knight would stop their attacks from leaving the arena, but clearly that wasn’t the case. “Isn’t that against the rules?!”

“Hardly, child,” he said, and Danny gritted his teeth as Pariah swung his sword again, blocking it with the arm of his suit. “You are unskilled. Raw potential with no focus.”

“Yeah, well, in my defense I’ve spent most of my time fighting with a handicap,” said Danny as he watched the power in the ectoskeleton dip below 65%. Aside from the moment he broke his Hazmat suit with Nocturn, Danny felt stronger than he ever had before, but it still wasn’t enough, and the power in the suit was draining rapidly. He was almost halfway down and he hadn’t so much as landed a single hit on Pariah Dark, and while that was true of the Ghost King, too, his power didn’t seem to have the same limits. 

He swallowed as he glanced at the ring in his palm, as he felt the tiniest urge to pull on the dreams of those slumbering in Amity Park, but he couldn’t, and he barely looked back up in time to teleport to avoid Pariah’s ectoblast that he fired from one of his swords. His insides twisted and pulled until he blinked back into existence to Pariah’s left, and he shot an ectoblast at him as he tried to ignore the horror at the massive trench now carved into the field from Pariah’s strike.

At least this blow finally connected.

He watched as Pariah stumbled to the side, caught off guard. No doubt the king expected him to appear behind him, but Danny knew it was an old, overly predictable strategy. “Ha!” he shouted, but his triumph was short-lived as he saw the indicator on the control panel blinking at 48%  while Pariah Dark staggered to his feet.

He shot off another blast, but Pariah avoided it easily as he swung his sword, and as Danny dodged it he felt the other blade catch the ectoskeleton in the back of the leg. He screamed as the suit toppled, and then barely managed to roll as the other sword came back down. He didn’t quite make it, the glass shield around his head shattering, and he teleported to the sky, trying to catch his breath as he avoided the falling glass. 

15%. 

At that moment, Danny knew the battle was over. At his full strength, he stood a chance, but he wasn’t recovered enough for this fight, not really. But he couldn’t let Pariah Dark win, and as he tried to get his bearings he barely dodged another massive ectoblast that seemed to cleave the sky in two. 

14%. 

“You are powerful, but power such as this is a burden, and it is time you laid yours to rest,” said Pariah Dark as he suddenly appeared in front of him, and Danny scrambled, throwing up a shield to block the sword that came at his gut. “It is unfortunate, child. With training and guidance, you could have been a brilliant fighter, perhaps even a king.”

The words were a dagger in his chest, the scar from the injury that almost killed him aching powerfully as it reminded him of Vlad’s final words to him before the man tried to murder him. “Shut up!” he snapped, a red 8% blinking as the suit issued a warning, and a blast exploded out from him, draining the power to 2% as Pariah Dark went flying across the field and slammed into the barrier setup by Fright Knight. Below 5%. His Dad stated that was the limit, that his odds of survival were slim to none at this point. But the fight wasn’t over. He had to do something, and he swallowed, considering his limited options. He needed more power. More energy. But there were only two ways to get it, and he didn’t know which was worse. Danny didn’t want to become the monster his parents feared, but if he put that ring on or let himself eat dreams again, then that’s exactly what he would be. 

“Don’t you get it?” Danny shouted as Pariah smashed heavily into the ground and then staggered to his feet “I don’t want to be a brilliant fighter. I don’t want to be a powerful ghost. I don’t want to be a King! All I want is for all of you to leave me and the people I care about in peace!” 

And then Pariah vanished, teleporting away before reappearing a mere two feet in front of him, barely a dent to be seen in his armor. “We don’t always get a choice, child.”

Danny could not survive another blow, not at this rate, but he desperately didn’t want to die, didn’t want to be struck down this way. The voice from the ring that whispered to him, gently encouraging and seductive. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right that he should die or be forced to sacrifice his family and friends. And while Danny didn’t become a monster, he would rather be one than let them die, then give up and be killed again. With a sharp inhale, he opened his palm and slipped the ring on, not sure he had time to gather enough energy from dreams instead. 

And then time stopped as the ring shrank to perfectly fit his finger. 

The battlefield disappeared as he blinked, and instead of Amity Park he found himself in a spot uncannily like Nocturn’s lair within the ghost zone. The sky was endlessly black but full of brilliantly glowing stars and planets and moons, and although he could feel something solid beneath his feet, there was no real earth to speak of when he looked down, the surface beneath his feet more like glass or ice as it reflected the night sky above. 

“Do you accept the terms?” Turning around, Danny saw himself, or at least something that looked an awful lot like his regular, human self. 

“What?”

“The ring is a burden and most cannot bear it,” his doppelganger said. “Do you accept the terms?”

“That depends on what they are.” 

His clone smiled. “We are a symbol. We provide you with power, with focus, with brilliance, in return for your service to the Infinite Realms.” Danny shivered as the strange echo of Pariah Dark’s own words. This . . . it was the ring, wasn’t it? It certainly wasn’t Danny. “We mold you as you mold us. We create and shatter the stars , liminal child.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“We cannot grant you what you desire unless you accept the terms,” it said. “Do you accept?”

“Am I going to die?”

“All things end. Life, death, dreams. Kings.” Great. A non-answer if he ever heard one. But he was prepared for that reality. Dying here, in this moment, as he tried to save his family. His friends.

“Can I save them, if I accept?” 

“Potentially. I will make no promises about your future, only that agreeing will create a path towards the possibility you desire.”

“A dream, then,” he laughed even as he wanted to cry. Of course. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

“There is always a choice,” it disagreed. “No matter what tyrants may claim.”

It still didn’t feel like one, even if it was technically true in this case, but he still hesitated. “Pariah Dark said I wasn’t strong enough to control you.”

“Pariah Dark, like so many others, fails to realize that not everything requires force. Most of those that seek to possess me fear me and what I represent,” it said. “They believe that there is no other option than dominance, and so frequently fail to find harmony and ultimately destroy themselves in the process. Mutual respect and understanding can be sufficient, as you have learned repeatedly.”

“Right.” It sounded like nonsense, to him, even if there was a little truth to it. 

“Does refusing to give your rage a voice make it cease to be?” 

“Well, no, but–”

“--then why not give it one?” It said simply. “Rage can be a powerful tool. It can motivate, help to push back against injustice, and provide you with focus. You do not always need to act on it. But you should not suppress it. You are not wrong to rage at a world that sees you and other ghosts as monsters, that would put a child into a battle suit to face a tyrant even knowing it would destroy him. You are not wrong to feel anger at your parents and friends and family. You are not wrong to feel anger at Pariah Dark and Vladimir Masters.”

“But I don’t want to hurt them,” said Danny softly. “Well, not most of them.” Maybe not any of them. He hadn’t really thought about what he wanted to do about Vlad or Pariah Dark beyond stopping them from hurting anyone else. 

“So you would endlessly hurt yourself instead?” Danny flinched. “We can see everything that you are, that you were, and that you could be. We can see how much you have harmed yourself. You are full of anger at a world that has constantly hurt you, that broke you and nearly unmade you, and you have rarely communicated that pain. Your family is strong enough to hear it. Your friends are, too. They have proven it more than once, and you will not keep them safe or protect them by continuing to hurt yourself by lying to them and letting the rage and pain fester within yourself. And you do not need to continually extend grace and sympathy to those that continue to do you harm.”

The Ring of Rage paused, looking upwards. “We cannot continue this forever. You must make a choice. Do you agree to the terms?”

He stared at the stars around him, wishing he could have more time, but knowing he had none, he dearly hoped he would not regret this. But as Danny opened his mouth to accept, he paused, a question lingering there. “Do you want me to?”

The ring blinked at him, and then smiled. “How odd to ask such a thing. But you would not be here now, hearing my voice, if I did not want you to accept.”

Danny held out his hand in offering. “Okay, then. I accept.”

“Then scream, liminal, and give voice to your rage.”

Danny’s eyes snapped open, the stars and darkness gone, as he felt the power from the ring flood into him. The power from the suit had been impossible, an incredible boon, but it was not enough. But this? He felt the pure, intense anger flood through him, making his core nearly shatter as he thought about everything he pushed down to the darkest parts of himself for almost two years.

And he screamed.

It cascaded out of him, little more than a wail at first, and then Pariah Dark was pushed back from him and little by little his armor and swords began to break. The scream built, stronger and stronger, and the force field around them cracked as he continued to release it, the ring fueling his rage.

He thought of stumbling into that portal and the nightmarish pain he felt as he was electrocuted, disassembled, and reassembled into a creature his parents and sister and friends saw as a monster.

He remembered the constant frustration as he failed to turn in assignments as he fled from class, running towards danger and trying to save everyone from yet another ghost attack, and as he came back to endless piles of detention slips, none of his teachers ever doing more than writing him off as a troubled teenager. 

He thought of missing movies and dates and stargazing and playing video games with his friends.

He remembered the frustration and anger as those same friends scolded him, lectured him for being careless and a bad friend, even as he saved their lives over and over again and refused to burden them with the weight of his secrets. 

He thought of Dash and Kwan and the other A-listers, mocking him relentlessly and calling him a freak, shoving him into lockers and nearly drowning him in a toilet, and oh how much he wished he could make them feel the pain they caused him, Dash’s injuries he inflicted barely a dent by comparison.

He remembered the disappointment in his sister’s eyes, the lack of understanding and compassion, the endless question of why he struggled when everything just came so much easier to her and always had. 

He thought of his parents, whose first instinct in the hospital after he awoke from his coma was to lecture him about lab safety, who only grudgingly accepted the blame for their carelessness, who caused two liminals to be created through their experiments. Who hunted him and joked so easily about how much they couldn’t wait to dissect him and tear him apart, molecule by molecule, for months before they were even willing to consider that the ghosts weren’t quite what they believed, that dissecting them might be immoral and wrong. 

He thought of Vlad, who tried to kill his father and marry his mother, who thought Danny too much of a dullard to be worth his time until he learned his secret, and who almost did succeed in killing him.

He remembered the ghosts. The endless fights, the pure hatred they had for Phantom, and how they endlessly pursued and tormented him. Yet they were the ones that were also so stubborn and afraid that they refused to save even themselves or their world without him there to prod them.

He pictured his parents and friends, his ex, all gently encouraging him to sacrifice himself yet again so they wouldn’t have to die as they believed his lies that should have been obvious, that they should have so easily seen through, to let him destroy himself and his body and maybe even what little hope he had for an afterlife for their sake.

And he poured all of it into the scream, every ounce of anger and frustration and rage and bitterness and disappointment and sadness that he had shoved down for so long, and it continued to build until it shattered the force field around them first and then the dome in the sky, until Pariah’s armor fell about him in shards and Danny could sense Pariah Dark’s core breaking and cracking and–

He stopped, staring at the body of the Ghost King as it crashed to the ground, his core ruptured by Danny’s scream, and unthinkingly he followed it, feeling hollow and raw as he stumbled over and gently picked up the crown. 

And the world disappeared again, absorbed by the void and the stars in his mind, but this time his doppelganger appeared in a Hazmat suit. As Phantom as he once appeared, but no longer was. 

“Do I have to make some kind of agreement with you, too?” he sighed. 

“No. You don’t get a choice with this one, I’m afraid,” he said, static crackling as he spoke. “Well, unless you’d rather die, but you’ve fought so hard to live now that I can’t imagine you would.”

“So what, then? Just wanted to chat so I could feel bad?”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad. But I did want to say hello.” Danny stared at him. The Crown of Fire just wanted to say hello. Right. Of course. As if that were the most natural thing in the world.

“Seriously?”

“And to tell you that if you want to live, to be human and ghost, then you should change back. Your core and your heart are still healing. The power from both of us will be too much for you to handle now and will burn away what traces of humanity remain within you if we are not restrained.”

“Shouldn’t being human make that worse?” asked Danny.

“We’ve bonded with liminals before. Your ability to draw on our power will be greatly reduced while you are human. It will allow the transition to happen slowly, give your body the time it needs to finish recovering and adjust to the change,” it said. 

He had a dozen questions he wanted to ask, that he wanted to know, but he suspected there wasn’t any time, not really, so he forced himself to ask the one that seemed to be the most important just then. “Am I–does this whole thing mean I’m–um–”

“--king?” finished the Crown. “Yeah, sorry. You don’t have to do much, if you don’t want to, but you defeated the previous ruler in direct combat, shattering his core and taking his vestments. Most of your role is to help maintain balance in the Infinite Realms. To ignite potential and change. Something you ought to be well-suited to as a liminal.”

Danny sighed. “Great. More responsibility. That’s not really what I wanted.”

“Maybe not, but you seem to find it regardless.” It gazed outward, then. “You need to go. And remember, if you wish to retain your humanity, then you need to change back before my fires and the rage consume your human heart for good.”

Chapter Text

The skeletons were endless, swarming and crawling over everything the moment the dome went up and the fight began between Danny and Pariah Dark. Tucker sat in the GAV with Jazz and Sam, as Valerie, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton,  and the ghosts charged against the onslaught. The Fentons tried to get Valerie to stay back, given her broken arm, but she insisted she could sit over the fight in her hoverboard and pick off some of the skeletons with her one functioning arm. 

“I wish there was something we could do,” he said, his leg bouncing as he watched Ember lay down another power chord and smash through a crowd of skeletons while Mr. Fenton fired a bazooka, sucking some ghosts up into a tiny portable portal, and idly Tucker wondered where they were going given that they were already in the Ghost Zone as far as he could tell. 

“Speak for yourself. I’m tracking the suit’s power levels,” said Jazz, and Tucker stood up to peer at the tablet she held in her lap. He didn’t really see how this would help and was about to say as much, but then he noticed the number. 

“Eighty-nine percent already?! They just started.”

“They shouldn’t have let him go out in that thing,” said Sam. “He’s not going to hold back and your parents know it.”

“But–but he’s not happy.” Jazz’s voice was quiet, uncertain. “He said it himself, that he didn’t want to be this way–”

“--he said what your parents wanted to hear,” said Tucker bluntly. “Wasn’t it obvious that he was lying? I don’t think he hates being a ghost, Jazz. He’s always just been terrified of how you and your parents and–well, how all of us would react.”

Jazz’s fingers clenched the tablet tightly, her knuckles white, and her voice was strained. “Why didn’t you say that, then, if the two of you were so sure it was the wrong call?”

“Because Danny wasn’t going to give us a choice. He’d lie until he was blue in the face to convince all of us, and leaning on your parents’ worst prejudices and fears about ghosts?” Sam smiled bitterly. “It was smart, honestly. For him. And I didn’t think we had time to argue about it when the end result was always going to be this. As soon as Val told him, there was no way he wasn’t going to face Pariah Dark.”

Jazz was quiet for a moment as she watched the screen, and then a blast from the football field penetrated the shield, taking out a swath of skeletons and toppling a few of the ghosts. 

“Shit, what was that? Was that from Pariah Dark or Danny?” said Sam, but there was no way to know that, was there? Glancing at the tablet,  Tucker saw the levels drop massively again. At this rate, he couldn’t see Danny surviving the fight, not unless he was taking out Pariah Dark a lot faster than they believed possible. It would be nice if Pariah Dark wasn’t half as powerful as the ghosts thought, but Tucker suspected that wasn’t the case.  “I shouldn’t be a psychologist, should I?”

“What?”

“I can’t tell when my brother’s lying, I couldn’t convince the ghosts to help, I–”

“--you are literally in the middle of grieving the loss of your brother, while still having to deal with him existing as a ghost, because the world makes way less sense than it should and is so incredibly unfair that it hurts,” interrupted Sam. “You’re also not trained yet, Jazz. You only just finished your senior year of high school. At least wait until you finish your undergrad to decide if you want to have a crisis about your career choices.”

“But I’ve been studying and reading psychology texts since I was thirteen. I know way more than you think, Sam, but I can’t even understand my own brother or help him and if I can’t do that, then what–how can I possibly help anyone else?” she said, and her shoulders shook as she fought back tears. 

“Jazz, that’s exactly the problem, though. Danny is your brother,” said Tucker, “and he’s smart and knows exactly how to get under your skin and what lies he knows you’ll believe because he knows you. And the ghosts . . . look, don’t feel bad if you can’t figure out the ghosts, okay? There’s one out there flinging boxes at skeletons right now, and not even Danny can convince me that having an obsession with boxes isn’t super weird.”

She smiled a little, but he could tell they hadn’t gotten through to her, not really. He wished he could help her a bit more, but there wasn’t any time to try to help her work through this sudden, weird identity crisis. “Shit, he’s below fifty percent? When did that happen?”

“This isn’t good. Maybe we can get closer, try to help somehow?” suggested Sam, and Jazz swallowed as she turned the GAV on and drove it up the path to the side of the field. Tucker expected something to try to stop them, but the skeletons didn’t pursue them, and everyone else was too busy fighting to pay attention to the cowards like him sitting inside the GAV. Maybe Jazz wasn’t the only one feeling guilty about their inability to help right now. 

“Is that them?” asked Sam, squinting through the barrier. It was hard to see through it, especially while inside the GAV, and although it was stupid he grabbed an ecto blaster. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t keep sitting here, Sam. I hate it. I want–I need to help, somehow.” He swung open the side door and jumped out, only a little surprised when Sam and Jazz followed behind him. Jazz didn’t bring a weapon, her hand still clutching the tablet, but at least Sam had an ecto blaster. Swallowing, he walked up to the shield surrounding Pariah Dark and Danny and put his hand against it, feeling a nasty shock run through his fingertips.

“Shit.”

“I would advise against touching it again,” said someone, and Tucker jumped as the Fright Knight appeared beside them. Holding up the blaster, he pointed it at the knight, his knees shaking. “You wish to fight?”

“Not really, but I will if I have to,” he squeaked as Sam stood beside him, her hands impossibly steady, and he wondered when she’d suddenly become so much less afraid of ghosts. It wasn’t that long ago that seeing them gave her full on panic attacks if it went on too long, and he had an uneasy sense that she was keeping secrets from him now, too. He would need to talk to her later, though. There wasn’t time right now to dwell on it, though even as he thought it, Tucker gritted his teeth in frustration. He wished silently that for once, just once, they could all get a break from everything, from the strange and nightmarish world that seemed to keep getting worse and worse this year, to have the space to actually work through their issues and to help each other. But right now, as the Fright Knight waited for their answer, he didn’t think that his wish would ever come true. 

There was a loud, smashing sound from the field, and Tucker and the others glanced over, seeing Pariah moving a massive sword away from the destroyed leg of the ecto-skeleton. “Your friend is very bold, to challenge Pariah Dark,” said the knight as he turned to face the field.

“Wait, so you’re not going to attack us?”

“We support the same champion, although I will continue to serve Pariah Dark nobly if he wins, as I am duty bound to do,” said the Knight as Danny vanished, and Tucker lost track of him for a minute, wondering where he disappeared to. “But he will not defeat Pariah if he does not use the ring.”

“The ring? Danny doesn’t have the ring, it’s back in the lab.” They hadn’t given it to him, of course, hearing from the ghosts how dangerous it was for anyone to wield it. Most were consumed by rage if they put it on, twisted and broken beyond recognition, and even if it might have given him an advantage, they didn’t want that for Danny. That, at least, was a bridge too far. Or so he thought.

“Should we go get it?” asked Sam, and Tucker stared at her, wanting to shout as the words left her mouth. Were they all so callous, then? Did Danny not matter at all?

“There’s no time,” said Jazz as she held up the screen. “He won’t last long enough for it to matter.”

“The Ring of Rage lies within Sir Phantom’s hand,” said the Knight. “He showed it to My Liege at the start of the contest.”

“That can’t be, he . . . he . . .” Tucker’s voice faded, realizing that Danny must have grabbed it at some point while they weren’t paying attention. Had Valerie told him about it? Let him know how dangerous it was? She talked to Danny alone in his room for a long time before she came downstairs. “It’ll destroy him, if he puts that on. He won’t be Danny anymore.”

“Guys, he’s down to 2%,” said Jazz, her voice cracking, and they turned to look as Pariah towered over Danny in the sky. They could barely see them through the strange, green fuzziness of the shield. 

“Then he has chosen to die nobly rather than risk being consumed by the ring.” Tucker couldn’t tell if the Fright Knight was disappointed or impressed. “My King shall show you no mercy, not after a challenger, and once he takes the—”

But he stopped as they heard it, then, a sound that was horrifyingly familiar and made Tucker’s heart feel like it stopped. 

A scream. The scream. 

Last time, at least, Tucker and Sam benefited by being some distance from the factory, but this time they were right outside the blast zone and the shield around the battlefield mitigated none of it. The scream built upon itself and echoed, shattering the windows on the GAV, smashing the tablet in Jazz’s hands, and Tucker felt himself screaming as he fell to his knees and covered his ears, trying to stop the noise, trying to stop the awful agony and horror and rage that it flooded him with. 

It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. Danny shouldn’t have to do this, he shouldn’t have to fight, shouldn’t have been pressured by everyone and everything. He deserved to live, to be able to have fun with them, to go to school and worry about nothing more than failing classes. He didn’t deserve to be murdered by some ghost for a second time, to have what little was left of him destroyed. 

It wasn’t fair that Tucker had to listen to the sound of him being murdered, or to watch as what tiny shred of Danny’s humanity remained was consumed by the Ring of Rage.

And then the dome around the field shattered like glass around them, but as it fell there were no shards, nothing broken that could actually harm him, the ectoplasmic barrier dissolving into mist, and then suddenly the scream stopped and there was the sound of something massive smashing into the ground. The world felt as if it snapped, and the sky returned to its normal earthly state as Amity Park shifted back into the real world and out of the Ghost Zone. It was later than he realized, too, since Tucker could see the first rays from the sunrise peeking through the trees. 

The Fright Knight vanished from beside them, reappearing at the center of the field behind Danny, and as Tucker looked he realized that the massive thing was Pariah Dark, crumpled. Defeated. And standing over him was Danny. The ecto-skeleton was gone, and he was dressed in little more than a simple t-shirt and jeans, the same thing he wore under his Hazmat suit when he died, his white hair floating around his head as if caught in a breeze. And then he reached down and Tucker saw the ring on his finger as Danny’s hands went for the crown on Pariah’s head.

“Danny, stop!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet, and he charged across the field but either Danny didn’t hear him or didn’t care as put the crown on his head, and the moment he did the black void and stars were back, the strange white and green flames dancing along Danny’s skin.

“Danny!” He heard Sam and Jazz behind him, running now, too, knowing as he did that this outcome was almost certainly worse than him dying, way worse. They couldn’t let him lose himself, not like this. Tucker knew Danny didn’t hate being a ghost, but this–this wasn’t what he wanted, it would never be what he wanted, to be consumed and transformed into someone unrecognizable by the crown and the ring.

“Danny?” His friend looked at him, his green eyes glowing brilliantly. “Hey, buddy, are you in there?”

“I–I need help,” he whispered, his voice cracking like ice, and there was frost forming beneath his feet. “Please.” 

“Anything.” He probably shouldn’t promise him that, not without knowing, but he didn’t care. He would do anything to save him. “What can I do?”

“I can’t grab it. But it’s there, like the last time. I just–I need help. Before this kills me.” 

In that moment, Tucker felt his world drop out from underneath him, remembering the moment in his room, when Danny sat on his bed and pleaded with them and said he needed help reaching it. When he couldn’t transform, become human again, or at least not without them to guide him back. The words tumbled out of Tucker, a half-whisper. “You’re not dead?”

“I’m not dead-dead.”

“Then you–”

“Tucker. Please.” Sam and Jazz finally caught up to him just as the other ghosts came to the field, and Tucker thought he spotted Danny’s parents arguing with Valerie as they slowly made their way over. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter, not right now, not when Danny needed him to save him. 

“Uh, uh, right, um . . . “ He reached into his pocket, trying to pull out his phone as his hands shook, and then he handed it over to Sam. “You have to do it, I’m too–can you, like, pull up the album?”

Jazz and Val and others used to joke that Tucker, Sam, and Danny shared a nearly psychic connection, and in that moment he was glad for it, whatever it was, since Sam needed no explanation as she started going through his playlist. It only took her a second, and then the Humpty Dumpty song began to play. 

“What’s going on?” asked Jazz, staring. 

“We need to help him, can you, um–anything. Remind him about anything about, like, being human,” said Tucker as he walked over, and somehow, impossibly, he still did not find Danny terrifying, even as he could see Sam swallow uneasily while the music continued. 

And then Jazz walked over, and without any hesitation, threw her arms around Danny, tightly embracing him, and Tucker saw the flames dancing on his skin diminish. He was getting ready to talk to him and walk him through it again, but Jazz, little miss identity crisis who claimed she didn’t understand people enough to be a psychologist, who thought she would never be able to help people after failing to help Danny or understand the ghosts, had the right of it then and he knew it. Shaking his head, Tucker walked over and threw his arms around Danny, too,  and felt Sam a moment later, the three of them hugging Danny tightly in the center of the field as if desperately trying to root him to their reality, and eventually Tucker whispered, “Please stay.”

It didn’t feel like it should be enough, but he could see the void and stars begin to retreat as Tucker suddenly felt another set of arms around them, and then another. It felt so stupid and so weird and so corny but also so right , and then he heard a quiet whisper from Danny that made his heart flip.

 “Got it.”

And two bright rings passed over Danny, causing everyone to stumble backward, as his friend transformed. His hair was black, his eyes blue and his skin pale, and he looked thin, like he could probably stand to eat a half-dozen meals at the Nasty Burger, but he was undeniably and impossibly human. 

“How?” It was Mrs. Fenton, staring at him in shock as she gripped Mr. Fenton’s hand.

“It turns out the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated, although I didn’t know it until pretty recently,” he said with a shrug as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and then he looked at the ghosts nearby. “Can you, um, give me a minute, though?”

“I–sure,” stuttered Mr. Fenton. “Do what you gotta do, kiddo.”

Danny smiled as he walked over to the ghosts. “Thank you for your help today and in the Ghost Zone before all this. I won’t forget it.”

“Normally I’d say don’t sweat it, baby pop, but I’m not gonna miss out on a possible favor from the new Ghost King,” said Ember, and then her expression softened. “But I’m glad you ain’t actually dead, kid. You weren’t ready for it.”

Danny’s eyes seemed to sparkle with unnatural energy for a second, then, and he frowned. “Neither were you.”

“No one really is, whelp,” said Skulker. “But we shall all seek a favor from you in the coming days.”

“Great. Just . . . great. Can you all please at least give me like a week, though? I owe my family an explanation, first,” he said, rubbing his head, “and I could use, like, a few days of sleep. Maybe a month, even.”

“My liege,” said the Fright Knight, bowing. “There are–”

“The Ghost Zone went without a king for centuries, and it’s not going to fall apart in a week,” he said, making the temperature drop, and Tucker could swear he heard static as Danny spoke. “Do I have to make it an order?”

“No, my liege. We shall give you a week’s time.”

“Great.” Danny waved a hand, then, and a portal opened behind them. It was a terrifying yet simple display of the power he held now, the power he no doubt wanted no part of given who he was. “So go, and we can talk in a week.”

The ghosts departed, although a few of them stopped to say a few quick words to Danny and give him quick embraces or hand shakes while the rest of them watched in silence and waited, and once they were finally gone he let out a long breath and sat down, exhausted, as the portal closed. “Sorry,” he said, letting his head drop down on his knees for a second before looking up again. “I feel awful. These things are–” He shook his head as he gestured to a crown and ring that were not there. “They’re not, like, what I expected, but it’s still weird and I feel like my head’s gonna explode. Anybody want to research a way to get me out of this mess? My being ghost king is like the worst idea ever.”

“I’m game,” said Sam, sitting down beside him, and then Tucker and the others joined her on the field. “But as much as I want to let you get some rest, you’re going to have to explain yourself. You know we spent over two months mourning you, right? You let us think you were dead.”

Tucker expected an apology, but none came. “I thought I was. This wasn’t some attempt to run away, Sam. I didn’t set out to hurt you or anyone else. I thought I was murdered, and it was weeks before I found out I might not have been.”

“So why not tell us then? Why wait until now?” asked Jazz.

“Because if I told you the second Valerie summoned me, you wouldn’t have let me get in that ecto skeleton,” he said, and Tucker swore he saw undercurrents of green swimming around in his blue eyes. “You wouldn’t have let me try to fight Pariah Dark. It was only acceptable when it was going to destroy a ghost, not when it could kill a person.” The bitterness of it didn’t surprise Tucker, not really, so much as hearing Danny openly express it did. 

“Honey . . . we thought–”

“--we’re sorry, son,” said Jack, interrupting her. “You’re right. There isn’t an excuse. We shouldn’t have put that on you, not like that. We’re not–we’re trying, son. It’s going to take time. But you don’t have to keep holding back on us, even if it makes us uncomfortable, okay? That’s on your mom and I to manage, not you.”

Mrs. Fenton reached out, gently placing a hand on his knee. “Your father’s right. I’m sorry, hon. It’s not your fault that you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us. We–we’ll keep trying harder to do better, okay? I promise.”

It was, apparently, the right thing to say, and Tucker saw Danny’s rage soften. “I–thanks. And . . . I am sorry, you know. That you had to live with thinking I was gone even if it wasn’t my fault,” he said. “I really didn’t know until . . . I actually don’t know. Time was weird, there, but once I found out I wasn’t really dead I knew I would come back. I just had to get some surgery first.”

“Surgery?” repeated Jazz. “There are surgeons in the ghost zone?”

“Why not?” It was a challenge, daring her to push it, but she didn’t and instead bit her lip, considering it. “My core was damaged. It was messing up my ability to heal from what Vlad did to me, and because of how much it wrecked my heart, I couldn’t turn back. So Frostbite and his people helped. They fixed my core and then I had to spend some time in this weird tank recovering. I don’t really remember it, though - Valerie summoned me while I was still in there, and that was the first time I really had confirmation that the surgery worked and that I wasn’t dead. But, y’know . . .” He gestured vaguely at the smashed up football field. “There wasn’t a chance and there wasn’t time, not really, to tell you first. And if I died here, I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not dead, at least,” said Tucker as he slapped him on the back. “Sam still sucks at co-op play on Doomed. What did you even do there? Do they have video games? I bet I could work with Technus to get something setup if they don’t.”

“I mostly explored,” he said. “Looked for a lair that didn’t exist. Played with Cujo.” He looked at his parents, rubbing the back of his neck. “Which, um, by the way, I’ve kind of sort of adopted him, but in my defense I didn’t realize I wasn’t going to be spending basically an eternity in the Ghost Zone. He’s probably going to insist on moving in.”

“The ghost dog, right?” asked Mrs. Fenton, and she and Jack exchanged a look. “It’s . . . probably fine, Danny. We can figure it out.”

“Wait, ghost dog? As in the one that caused my Dad to lose his job?!” said Valerie. “You adopted it? Oh, that’s it, ghost boy. Being a ghost, you being dead and then not dead, getting a hug from Skulker–”

“-- what–”

“--all of that I get, but adopting that terror?” she said, her voice rising, and then she smiled. “You better keep it under control.”

“You could take him being dead but not adopting a ghost puppy? Seriously? ” said Sam. “ Seriously?? ”

“It’s fine, Sam,” he said. “She’s just kidding. Mostly.”

“Even as a joke, Danny–”

“--it’s fine ,” he insisted. “Although I really did get a hug from Skulker. It was weird.” He smiled for a second, but then it faded. “Guess we still have to figure out what to do with Vlad, don’t we? And how to explain that I'm not actually dead?”

“Well, technically, you’re still only missing,” said Jazz, and he stared at her. “We–I think for the first few weeks, we all hoped that somehow you might still be alive, and it wasn’t until we went to the Ghost Zone that we knew for sure. And then we didn’t want to let Vlad on to what we knew, so . . . yeah. Still missing.”

“Paulina’s been going around telling everyone about how you’re besties, y’know. You might be able to get that date with her,” said Sam. “If you’re still interested.”

“Not really.” He put a hand to his head, then, wincing. “Sorry. I really do think I need to get some rest.”

Mrs. Fenton smiled at him as they stood up and helped Danny to his feet. His legs shook a bit, but he remained steady as they walked towards the GAV. “It’s fine, hon. We’ve got time.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Danny did not have much time.

The morning he came back, he woke up to his face splashed all over the news. Someone managed to get footage of the last part of the fight against Pariah Dark and put it on TikTok. Footage that included him transforming. He never even noticed him near the field, but Wes had stalked him once for a few months just after his accident, insisting that Danny was a ghost. His friends forgot about it, his family never knew, and Danny stubbornly ignored it and played dumb long enough that Wes eventually gave it up. He had no real proof aside from Danny being a bit odd. 

And now, well, he did have proof, a lot of it, having managed to sneak out and capture footage from the last part of the fight.

The Guys in White were at his house within the hour. The Fright Knight, who Danny was definitely sure he told to leave him alone for a week, appeared and suggested politely that taking the ruler of the Infinite Realms hostage would not end well, and while Danny didn’t love the threat, he didn’t deny the reality that the ghosts would not accept it. He doubted it would be enough to keep them at bay for long, but Sam was willing to throw what she could of her family’s fortune toward a legal and political fight. Their current strategy right now, apparently, was to have Danny fall under the rules that governed visiting dignitaries, not certain that his citizenship status and protections granted by it would hold up in court thanks to some of the nasty laws the Guys in White managed to get passed. 

They would lobby to change those, to give him more protection, but it would not happen overnight or even within the next year according to Sam’s parents, who practically made careers out of lobbying politicians.

He also couldn’t get out of being Ghost King. Even if they weren’t depending on it as part of their legal strategy right now, it looked like it was a permanent position, but they had figured out he could appoint a regent for at least a couple of years. Queen Dora was flattered and a little terrified, but she accepted it, offering to instruct him if he wanted to learn more.

He didn’t, really, but he also didn’t want to screw it up as long as he couldn’t find a way out of the job, so he found himself reading books on ghostly history, culture, and law. Some of it he knew intuitively. Other parts of it, though, he was learning little by little. His parents were more excited about it than he was. 

“Dann-o, there’s a cool story about this ghost, here, Vortex?” Dad said, pointing at the book and snacking on some chips while they were sitting in the kitchen one afternoon, and Danny gave him a glare that could level buildings as Cujo sat anxiously at his feet. Even though Cujo couldn’t eat human food, he still begged for it at the table whenever they ate. Old habits, he supposed. 

“Dad, I do not want to talk about ghosts again right now. Please?” he groaned. “I’d rather get help with my homework. You know, the human kind with lots of poetry and chemical reactions and trig?”

Danny expected to get stuck repeating the year, and he still might need to depending on how he did with summer school, but the staff was surprisingly accommodating. He was touched and surprised when Mr. Lancer reacted to the truth with horror at the thought of his student fighting ghosts, and Mr. Lancer insisted on meeting with him and his parents to talk about other options. Danny wasn’t as worried about the ghost attacks anymore - the ghosts were reluctant to push back against him directly so far and his brief time being dead seemed to have changed his relationships in ways he was still reckoning with - but he didn’t dismiss it, either, in no small part because he had read about a few ghosts like Vortex and he suspected they were going to be a challenge if they ever came his way.

Even some of his old bullies were kinder, apologizing to him for the way they hurt him, and although part of him realized it might just be a desperate sense of self-preservation pushing them to do it, he tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Dash was the exception, avoiding him and appearing terrified every time he spotted Danny within ten feet of him, apparently realizing just how much weight Danny’s threat a few months ago now carried. Most of his classmates that he saw over the summer so far were giving him a wide berth, exchanging uneasy glances and whispering. A few thanked him. 

“They’ll get used to it, Danny,” said Sam as they sat at the Nasty Burger, waiting for Val to get off her shift so they could go see a movie and try, for a few hours, to just be normal. Danny didn’t totally get why she was working at the Nasty Burger now that she had a job with his parents, but apparently, she wanted to earn extra money during the summer and decided to wait to give her notice until the new school year. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know.” 

They didn’t make it to the movie that night - there were a half-dozen reporters outside, one of them apparently getting a tip from some staff person that he would be there, and so they went to Sam’s house instead and watched some bad TV shows for a couple of hours.

And in his sleep, the crown and ring whispered to him. He still dreamed, but the dreams were different and didn’t always feel like his own. They were of places and people and ghosts he didn’t know and hadn’t met, of times he had not even existed yet. The dreams scared him, sometimes, and he woke up not always feeling like himself afterward in a way that unnerved him, no matter how much Nocturn assured him it was natural, that the dreams were merely the echoes of past kings and rulers trapped within the artifacts that were now bound to Danny, and that he would learn to adjust in time.

His ghost half was different now too. Flexible. He could appear as he had for so long, as Phantom in the Hazmat suit he originally died in that day in the portal, and he found a strange comfort in it even as another part of him felt as if he’d outgrown it, somehow. But most of the time he just looked like himself, his hair white instead of black, eyes green instead of blue, while his skin faintly glowed with the Lichtenberg figure running up his arm, and if someone looked too long they swore they could see the black void and stars within him still. The crown floated over his head, the ring on his finger. He could hide them if he wanted, but there was rarely a point when he was a ghost. 

And he could appear as he had the first time he broke free from the Hazmat suit, all shining teeth and claws and void and stars, but he avoided it, knowing that as far as his family and friends had come, they still found it terrifying. Or at least most of them did. 

“I don’t get it,” said Tucker to him when he talked about it after summer school one day. “It’s really not scary.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, seriously, it’s just–it still feels like you. It always has. I can’t explain it, man, because I know it should make me want to crap my pants, but it’s never hit me that way.”

“And Sam?”

“Nah, she finds it appropriately madness-inducing,” he laughed. “Sorry, Danny. My brain’s probably broken or something.”

“I don’t think so,” he said quietly. “I feel that way now, sometimes, though. I can–there are things I just know and it’s weird.”

“Like?”

“Like the ghosts,” he said. “I know them, like, everything about them with just a look. And it–” he stopped, shaking his head. He wondered how Pariah knew during their fight that Danny was a liminal, but with the crown in his possession, how could he not? It gave him the power to see the ghosts in a way no one else could. To see the death echoes that haunted them, the obsessions that ruled them, and the full extent of their potential. “Sorry. It’s just a lot. I feel like I’m peeking at them behind a shower curtain or something. It’s gross.”

“It’s good that it’s you,” said Tucker. “I mean it’s not, like, super great and you should figure out how to turn it off, because that sucks, but there are people who would do some pretty terrible stuff if they had that power. And you’ve always been able to see the ghosts in a way that no one else ever could.”

He honestly didn’t even think to try and just turn off that power, and although the crown seemed appalled by the suggestion, apparently he could, and it made him feel like he could breathe again. Sometimes, Tucker was a genius, and Danny realized he probably should have told him and Sam everything much, much sooner.

Little by little the summer came to an end, and by the skin of his teeth he passed summer school and was told he would be permitted to join his classmates in his junior year. It was a stupid fear, really - there was no shame in having to take another year to graduate after being out of school so much - but he really didn’t want to be separated from his friends. 

“I’m glad you made it,” said Jazz. “Now you can help me with learning more about ghost psychology.” 

“Jazz, if I’m not going to do extra homework with Mom and Dad, then I’m not going to do extra homework with you. I don’t have time,” he groaned. “But there are plenty of books, and Ember’s offering guitar lessons still if you want to spend some time getting to know one of them.”

“I might take her up on that,” said Jazz, and to his surprise she actually did. Ember seemed into it, at least, since Jazz was better at guitar than he was and more dedicated to practicing in between their sessions, and she was pushing Jazz into small rebellions, inviting her to parties and trying to get her to be a little less uptight. Which, since this was Jazz, mostly meant stuff like staying out ten minutes past her curfew that their parents no longer even enforced or having a “party” with three of her friends that mostly involved watching British drama series.

He found Valerie one night while out flying, and she was sitting on her hoverboard over the lake, staring up at the sky. “You okay?”

“How do you deal with it?” she asked as she retracted her helmet, letting her hair blow in the breeze. “Like, not being fully human anymore?”

“Honestly? Pretty badly,” he said, laughing softly, and then his smile faded. “I had a pretty low point after the thing with Dash. I never told anyone this before, but I . . . I tried to kill myself.”

“You–why?”

“Hurting him was a breaking point, I think,” said Danny. “I wasn’t in a good spot after the whole possession thing. I know you all only wanted to help me, but it felt like a rejection of me, of everything I was, when you all thought I was possessed instead of just me. And then, because I was scared of what would happen to me if I showed up as Phantom, I kept ignoring my obsession and resisting transforming to help people no matter how badly it hurt me to do it. I thought I could get through it, but I couldn’t, not really, and with Dash . . . hurting him went against everything that I felt like made me, me. I know you’ll say he deserved it or whatever, but it’s not that simple, and I just wondered what the point was, then. Of everything I was doing. Before it was easy to say to myself that at least I was helping people and doing the right thing, but then?” 

“I’m so sorry, Danny,” said Val as she put a hand on his back. “We never–it wasn’t about that–”

“--I know,” he said. “I get it, I do, really, but it doesn’t matter. It still hurt. But I got through it. Sydney talked me down. Convinced me to try to open up, even a little, and I realized I should’ve done it sooner even though it terrified me. My parents figuring out I wasn’t possessed on their own helped. It made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m still figuring a lot of this out. There are days where it feels amazing and others where I silently wonder how much better my life would be if I never stepped into that portal, and where that void and emptiness eats at me and tries to suck me back in even as I keep fighting it. But letting the people I care about know the truth? I couldn’t–I wouldn’t be here if I never did that. If I didn’t at least give people a chance to accept me and every part of me.”

“You think everyone has?” He recognized the fear there, the anxiety. He knew it better than anyone.

“Fuck no,” he said, and she smiled at the curse. He didn’t swear much, after all. “But the people who I care about are trying, and that’s mostly what matters. There’s going to be stuff all of you won’t ever understand and maybe some stuff they’ll never truly accept, I think, but it’s okay. I just–I mostly just need to know that they’re okay with that and can at least tolerate those parts of me that are kind of scary, too. I’m still learning how to do that, honestly, and how to stop lying to everyone. It’s harder than it should be, but it’s worth it, too.”

Val hummed, shifting her weight as she looked up at the night sky. “I should tell my Dad, shouldn’t I?” 

“Yeah. Take it from me that no matter what kind of fear you’re feeling, it’s worse to keep it a secret.. I imagine he’ll mostly just be worried about you, though,” said Danny. “He loves you a lot.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But it’s still scary.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said. “I’m still scared sometimes, you know. That this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up back in the Ghost Zone, still dead and . . .” He shook his head. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not.” They sat in silence, looking up at the stars for a bit. “You know I wanted to bring you up here like a dozen times to see the stars when we were dating, but I was too scared you’d hate me when you found out I hunted ghosts.”

Danny smiled at her. “Kind of silly since I never hated my parents for it,” he said, “although I’m not going to pretend it didn’t sting to hear them talk about ghosts the way they did, even if they never knew I was one, too. At least partly. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you told me, though. I knew the truth already, but hearing it from you would be different.”

“Same. I didn’t learn the truth about you until we thought you were already dead,” said Val. “I was pretty angry. Mostly at myself, I think, for not seeing it or figuring it out sooner.”

“Nobody thinks a person can be both alive and dead, Val. It would’ve been a pretty big leap to make on your own,” he said as he stared out at the night sky, absentmindedly rubbing his palm. “But I’m glad you know now.”

“Me, too.” 

He was silent for a moment, considering. “There is something I’d like your help with, though,” he said. 

“Oh?” 

Valerie, of course, thought it was a terrible idea, but that was precisely why he needed her there with him. While Danny wasn’t present for most of Vlad’s trial, he had seen some of it, watching quietly as he was forced to face justice. They decided to bring him to the Ghost Zone for his trial before creatures known as Observants that Danny found mostly irritating, but they were efficient. Judicious. They initially proposed removing his core and destroying it, but the thought made Danny sick. He'd already destroyed one ghost and had no desire to do so again, the memory of that moment still haunting him. So Danny refused, and as the only person that had sufficient enough power to do so, they were forced to come up with another punishment.

So instead Vlad would be imprisoned in the Ghost Zone, in a special cell to keep him contained, isolated and alone, enduring a sentence with no definitive end date and cut off from the world until the Observants chose to release him. In the human world, rumors spread. Some claimed Vlad was killed during the invasion of Pariah Dark or that he fled to some foreign country to avoid the legal issues that were steadily mounting, others that he was the victim of a new serial killer targetting billionaires, and others with theories that were even more wild and absurd. Danny felt strangely twisted up about it, uncertain what he wanted to do until now despite the terror and anxiety his plans sent through him. He needed someone to be there with him, someone who would respect his lead but that would also be ready to act just in case.

Val was right that it was probably one of his worst ideas yet and that nothing good would come of it. 

“I see that the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated,” said Vlad as Danny walked into the prison. He had rarely seen the man so out of sorts, his long silver hair loose around his shoulders, his suit rumpled and dirty. Yet the man smirked as he saw him and Valerie. “Oh, and you’ve adopted my lap dog now, too? How cute.”

“I’m nobody’s lap dog,” snapped Val, and Vlad merely chuckled at her as Danny tried not to wince. “We’re friends. Partners.”

“Partners? Ms. Grey, you are many things, but Daniel’s equal is not one of them,” said Vlad coolly. 

“If you’re just going to keep taunting Val, then we’re going to go,” said Danny as he looked back at Val, and he saw her relax a little, forcing herself to calm down. It was one thing to know that Vlad would go out of his way to manipulate and needle them, but it was an entirely different thing to not react to it. 

“And leave me without the company of two annoying brats? How will I ever survive?” he sneered as he gestured dramatically at himself, but instead of taking the bait, Danny let out a slow breath and turned around. 

“You were right, Val. He’s clearly not willing to listen,” said Danny. “Let’s go.” 

They walked back towards the door, and it was as he put his hand on the handle that Vlad spoke. “Too cowardly to kill me, Daniel?” Danny paused, his shoulders tense. He didn’t want to be here. Nobody expected him to do this, to force himself to endure Vlad’s presence after what the man did to him, and by all rights, he didn't need to and shouldn't bother. His fingers went up to his chest, brushing the scar hidden beneath his shirt, and then he turned back towards Vlad. 

“I’m not a murderer,” said Danny eventually, crossing his arms, even if that wasn’t entirely true. He had killed Pariah Dark, even if he didn’t intend to do so, but he would not destroy another ghost ever again if he could help it. “You know, my Mom wants you dead. Jazz does, too, and so do my friends and Val. You know the one person that doesn’t?”

There was a flicker of something there, an emotion that Danny couldn’t quite place. “You?”

“Honestly, Vlad, I don’t know exactly what I want,” said Danny softly. “You tried to kill me. You have killed dozens of others. You could have destroyed the Ghost Zone and Earth by releasing Pariah Dark, causing the deaths of countless thousands. By all rights, the Observants aren’t wrong that your core should be removed and destroyed.” He paused, biting his lip as he considered his next words carefully. “Nearly every ghost that came through the portal I reached out to and tried to help at least once. At first it was selfish. I just wanted to prove to myself that they weren’t the monsters my parents thought they were, and I was still learning to control my powers, so if I could convince them not to attack, to find other ways to satisfy their obsessions, then it was easier on me since it made it less likely that anyone would learn the truth about what I was.”

“But you are a monster,” argued Vlad. “I saw what happened during your battle with Nocturn. I saw what you took.”

Danny felt Val’s hand on his shoulder, and he looked back at her, giving a small smile to reassure her that he was okay to keep going before he turned back to Vlad and walked to the front of his cell, sitting down with his legs crossed in front of him while Val watched quietly from the door. “I didn’t know what I was doing then,” said Danny. “Not really. And I never want to do it again. I’m trying not to give into the darkness that brought me to that point where I needed to consume dreams and could lie to myself about how I would be protecting them if I did. Right now, at least, I don’t think I’m a monster.”

“But my parents . . . My Dad . . . he’s the only person that doesn’t want you dead yet, even after everything you did,” said Danny. “He still remembers you as his friend. He blames himself for how you are now because he knows he couldn’t be there after your accident in college, and he knows it’s his fault that you were hurt that day and changed.” He blamed himself for Danny’s near-death at Vlad’s hands, too, even as Danny forgave him. It struck Danny, then, just how much he did have in common with his Dad as he continued. Maybe Vlad was right. Maybe they were both fools. “And even though he won’t say it to me, I know a part of him wonders if every evil thing you’ve done is because of what you and I are, if it’s being a liminal that drove you to this point, that caused you to become twisted by your obsession–”

“--I do not have an obsession!” hissed Vlad. “I am not like those foolish ghosts who–”

“--you do,” interrupted Danny, surprised at how steady he manaegd to keep his voice. “I do. We can’t help it. But I know from experience what happens if you can’t satisfy it or if you ignore it. And my Dad’s hunch . . . it’s not entirely wrong. Our obsessions can’t twist us into something we’re not. That’s not how it works. But they can make it easier to give into our worst impulses, to do something we shouldn’t, to–to consume the dreams that belong to others and call it protection. Or to slowly see yourself twisted over time as you inadvertently push your friends away in fear, and then destroy everyone else in the process as you try to force them to be close to you, to like you, to love you–”

“--I don’t need love,” said Vlad. “Or friendship. There is no one out there that is my equal, no one who–”

“--stop,” said Danny softly, and he was surprised when Vlad shut his mouth tightly, merely glaring at him instead. “You wouldn’t have come to me in the park that day if you hadn’t wanted friendship. A family. To find someone that could understand you when no one else could, when everyone else seemed to abandon you.” Danny let out a shaky breath. “You and Spectra and Pariah Dark are the only ghosts that I’ve never really given a choice to, that I’ve never–that I’ve never tried to reach out to. Spectra, well, she tortured me. Pariah Dark tried to destroy everyone and everything and wouldn’t have stopped until he succeeded. And you–you wanted to kill my Dad. Marry my Mom. And I–I was terrified of what you might do to me, then, too, if you got your way. Even back then, I could see how–I could see that void in you. That ache that nothing seemed to fill. The emptiness and loneliness and desperation.”

“But I didn’t really understand it all until I tried to kill myself,”  said Danny softly, and he heard Val react behind him, no doubt surprised he would admit any weakness to Vlad. Maybe he shouldn’t. But Danny didn’t think he could reach him without willing to be vulnerable, without putting his whole self in front of him, and letting Vlad see that there were those that still welcomed Danny and loved him and cared for him despite all of his flaws and fears. “And when I tried to fill that with something I stole, with something that was never mine, it–it felt better, for a moment. But it didn’t last. I knew that if I gave into that, then I would be exactly the kind of monster my parents feared the ghosts were all along.”

“You’d end up like me?” finished Vlad. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see what you’re trying to do, Daniel,” he scoffed. “I’m not a fool.”

“Then prove it,” said Danny. “I want to offer you a choice. The same choice I offered the other ghosts. The same choice my family and friends gave me every second they refused to give up on me, even if I didn’t realize that’s what they were giving me then. I want to help you.” He couldn’t help his own surprise, then, as he realized the words were true. He hadn’t been entirely sure until now that this was what he wanted to do so much as what he felt he should do, that he owed it to Vlad, somehow, even though everyone reassured him that he owed the man nothing and that Vlad was a serial killer that deserved to rot for eternity, even as some small part of him agreed with them, too, that there was nothing there left to save. “I want–I want you to be better, to become the person my Dad remembers. To become the kind of person I wish I had back when this all started. To–to not be alone, to have that ache and emptiness and void, because I know how much it hurts in a way no other human ever will. And if you want that, too, then I’m willing to come here, every day, and try to talk to you, to see if there can be another way forward, to try to make up for the terrible things that you’ve done, somehow, to me and so many others, even though I doubt that'll ever be possible.”

“And if you’re not . . . then I guess you’ll continue to sit in this cell, alone, as you convince yourself that you’re unique, that no one can be your peer or your friend or your family while that void continues to grow and consumes you until there’s nothing left of that shred of who you once were, of the man that my parents called their friend,” said Danny as he stood up. “But that will be your choice. And I’m only making this offer once.”

He waited, forcing himself to stay still rather than to anxiously rub at the scar on his palm. A part of him still felt nauseous and terrified at the thought of trying to befriend the man who spent so much time hurting the people he loved, who tried to kill him and nearly succeeded, and a voice inside him screamed that it wasn’t fair that he should be the one to do this. He could feel the ring humming on his finger, singing a song of rage he would love to give into instead that would let him push Vlad away, keep him locked and alone in this cell to dwell for an eternity on the pain he caused so many.

But the other part of him knew how easily it could have been him, if he hadn’t had his friends and his family, if they had given up long ago when he hoped they would instead of refusing to keep holding on, to keep on being there at his side despite how much he pushed them away. Danny selfishly wanted to prove to himself that he could save Vlad, too, somehow, in case he ever ended up alone again, in case he did find himself succumbing to his worst impulses with no one immediately there to catch him. He needed to believe that someone out there might be willing to extend him a hand, too. And Danny knew that without someone to guide him, Vlad would never understand how much harm he did, and while Danny might not be the best choice for a whole host of reasons, there wasn’t exactly a line of humans or ghosts clamoring for the opportunity. They didn’t see the point.

But he did. He always had. And he wanted to give Vlad a second chance, if only because it somehow felt like giving himself one, too.

“You should take the offer,” said Val. “Even if you hate Danny, no one else is going to. I even told Danny not to, that you weren’t worth it after everything, that you’ll try to manipulate him and you’ll use this as some way to hurt him and torture him some more. But he’s too much of an idiot to listen. Even now.” Danny turned and he could see her smiling at him faintly. She wasn’t wrong. This was probably a waste of time, and the longer Vlad went without answering, the more certain he was that he shouldn’t have bothered, shouldn’t have come here and that Vlad was too far gone, past saving and–

“I assume at any point I can choose to stop dealing with your visits should your preaching grow too obnoxious?” said Vlad eventually, and Danny rolled his eyes.

“Sure, fruit loop. But that’s true for me, too,” said Danny.

“I am not a fruit loop,” he hissed, and Danny merely crossed his arms, watching and waiting, and then the man sighed. “But fine. I suppose even your dismal company is better than centuries of isolation.”

“I’m so flattered,” said Danny sarcastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow, fruit loop.”

“See you tomorrow, little badger.”