#so they need to be reminded and make this clear to the halfa

[petite-phthora]

I can be the Edward to your Bella

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first… murder? - part 22]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

They separate after a moment. Once again, two pairs of glowing green eyes meet. They let silence wash over them once again as they gaze at one another, locked in embrace.

After a while, Danny breaks the silence with a small sigh.

“I guess I might as well explain some more, if you still have some questions? I haven’t quite explained everything you should know yet, I suppose,” He offers.

Jason gives a small nod.

“Yeah, I… I’d like to know more, if you don’t mind…” At Danny’s nod he continues. “You keep mentioning ectoplasm, which I think is what I have previously always known as Lazarus water. Could you tell me more about it?”

Danny smiles at him.

“This is ectoplasm,” Danny says, putting his open palm between them and letting ectoplasm pool on top of it.

Jason flinches and leans back a bit, eyeing the ectoplasm apprehensively.

“Yeah, looks like Lazarus water to me, apart from the lack of bubbling” He replies stiffly. “And you’re – we’re—made of this stuff?”

“Essentially? Yes. Though we are only partially. But that doesn't matter right now”

“It sounds like something that should matter right now”

“Nah, right now the important part is that your ecto,” Danny emphasizes by pointing at Jason, letting the ecto disappear in the meantime, “is not healthy.”

“Something's wrong with the Pit? Pfft, I could’ve told ya that” Jason huffs sarcastically.

“Well, this Pit you keep referring to seems to be some kind of corrupted or contaminated version of the standard ectoplasm. And this Lazarus water you mentioned? Well, ectoplasm is not supposed to be bubbling, so…”

Danny lets out a small hum as he thinks.

“Like I’ve said before, from what I can guess, this corruption might be partially responsible for the madness you’ve referred to. And it’s probably the thing that has stunted your core growth.”

“My what growth?”

“Your core. Each ghost has a core. It’s the entire culmination of their being. Their vital organs, heart, brain, soul, etc. No matter how damaged a ghost’s physical body gets as long as their core doesn’t get damaged they can recover.

“You can think of it a little like the gems in Steven Universe,” Danny adds on, slightly unhelpfully for Jason as he has never heard of Steven Universe before, but he just nods along.

“If the core gets damaged, or even worse, destroyed, then the ghost is ended. They fade away, their entire existence getting erased in the process. It’s a fate worse than death…” Danny trails off before shaking his head a bit to clear it.

“Anyway, each ghost core also has an element or theme it is inclined to. We call it a core-type. For example, I have an ice core, making it so that I don’t get cold easily, and it gives me some ice powers as well.

“But I also know someone with a shadow core, someone with an electrical core, a fire core, etc., etc. Baby ghosts haven’t quite grown into the core-type yet, so you have nothing to worry about for now.” Danny says reassuringly.

Jason pulls a face at being referred to as a ‘baby ghost.’ 

“Right, and I’m supposed to have one of these cores but, what, the ‘contamination’ in the Pit stopped it from appearing?”

Danny shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

He then gives Jason a contemplative look.

“I might be able to get rid of the corruption myself, as ghosts have a built-in filter so shit like the Pit madness doesn’t happen.

“But seeing as I’m not a full ghost and I haven’t really seen contamination like this before, I’m not entirely sure it’s healthy for me…” He trails off before giving a small shake of his head. “And I’m no doctor, either. So, you’d probably have to see Frostbite for an official diagnosis and treatment plan.”

“Frostbite?” Jason inquires.

“He’s my ghost doctor” Danny explains. “I can talk to him about it beforehand, see if he knows more about this corrupted ecto situation. Though he might ask you to come by for a checkup either way.” He shrugs.

Jason agrees before bringing up another question. “So, whenever someone dies, they just,” he makes a vague gesture, “Go to the Ghost Zone and become a ghost? Why haven’t we really come across any ghosts like that before?”

“Not everyone that dies becomes a ghost,” Danny shakes his head slightly, “And not even every ectoplasmic entity, or ecto-being, is someone that has died.

“Ecto-beings can be people who died, if they died a traumatic enough death with enough raw emotion and enough ambient ectoplasm in the area for them to form a core.

“But that certainly doesn’t happen often. And not every ecto-being is like us either. Yes, you have those with a physical body, but then there’s also shades.

“Shades are formed when there’s enough ambient ectoplasm in the area they died to kickstart their core formation, but not enough to sustain the entire process.

“They have a core, but due to the lack of ecto during its formation they can’t use a lot of ecto at once and it takes longer for them to replenish. This also makes them unable to be tangible or visible for long periods of time.

“Besides the consciousness of dead people being ghosts, there’s also the neverborn. True to their name, the neverborn were never actually born in the traditional sense.

“They could be sentience given shape by enough raw emotion occurring in an area saturated with ambient ectoplasm, like most blob ghosts.

“Or then there’s also the ones who are more forces of nature and/or abstract concepts taken physical form. These are the Ancients, and they embody concepts like Time, Space, Weather, or Dreams, for example.” Danny explains.

“There’s the personifications of places or beliefs taken shape, and then there are also the neverborn formed through ghost procreation.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.

“Ghosts can give birth?”

Danny makes a so-so gesture with his hand.

 “Yes and no? It’s not exactly comparable to human conception, but two ghosts can come together and combine parts of their core to create? spawn? form? a child together?” He shrugs “I don’t know the exact workings or details, you’d have to ask Frostbite for more information.”

“Huh..” Is all Jason can say in response.

“Then you have the liminals, zombies, demons, and other dead-adjacent beings that I won’t get into right now.” Danny dismisses before pausing thoughtfully. “Though, I’ll clarify revenants a bit as that was what you were initially.”

He continues at Jason’s nod.

“A revenant is, in simplest terms, someone who died in an area without much ambient ecto, and with an immense need for revenge. A need so strong in fact that, despite the lack of ecto necessary to form a core in order to become a shade or full ghost, their potent emotions remain after death.

“And these emotions are what tie the remains of the person’s soul to their body, which together are able to take control of the corpse in order to enact that revenge, despite the mind of the person being long gone.

“Now, as soon as they have been avenged, they usually go back to their grave, if they have one, and well, die again, I suppose... The emotions fading and letting go of their hold on the soul…” Danny rubs the back of his neck before moving on.

“Well, last but not least, there’s us, the halfas. There’s only about four—well, five—of us in existence currently.

“Like I’ve said before, halfas are half-dead and half-alive. We have a living human body, and a ghost form we can transform into that is completely made out of ectoplasm, like the average physical-bodied ghost.

“We also have all the basic ghost powers, like flight, invisibility, intangibility, overshadowing, ecto-rays,” as Danny starts listing the basic ghost powers, he ignores Jason’s interjection of “I’m supposed to have ghost powers?!”

“But each ghost, depending on their power level, can also have some powers exclusive to only them. I know of a ghost with musical mind controlling powers, a ghost with wish granting powers, there’s my ghostly wail, and more.”

“So… If I get cleansed of this uh, corrupted ectoplasm, I’m gonna have ghost powers?” Jason asks again, a strange and thoughtful expression on his face.

“Yeah, probably. Though we won’t know which individual powers you’ll get till you get them.” Danny shrugs. “I’m also not quite sure how fast your core development will be and how fast your powers will appear once the corrupted stuff is gone.” He admits.

“While the stunted growth could have slowed the entire process down permanently, there’s also the chance that, once your proto-core has the freedom to grow, with some healthy ecto as a boost, your core might grow instantaneously because it’ll finally have the space to do so after being repressed for so long.” He looks at Jason’s chest, deep in thought, before shrugging again.

“But like I mentioned before, I’m no doctor. So, we’d need to consult with Frostbite first to be sure. And as for not being aware of ghosts before and not having met any, that’s just mainly due to the lack of reliable portals around.” He explains.

“There are only two semi-permanent portals that I know of, both of those artificial, and one of those is in my parents’ basement. Natural portals do occur, but ghosts rarely use them if they happen to come across one.

“It’s because the locations and duration the portals stay open are random. Besides, whatever time period they open in is also unpredictable. If you’re not careful, you could end up in ancient Rome.” Danny pulls a face before shaking his head a bit to clear his mind.

“Lastly there’s ghosts who have the power to open temporary portals themselves, but it’s quite rare amongst ghosts, so most just rely on the artificial ones to enter this dimension.”

Jason throws him a questioning glance. “Why do ghosts wanna enter this dimension anyway, if their home is in this Ghost Zone, I’m assuming? Is unfinished business like an actual thing, or?”

Danny pauses, thinking over his answer.

“Well, each ghost has their reasons for coming to this dimension. Some wanna view this dimension like tourists, others might come through the portal to visit for a quick brawl—”

“They come here just to fight?”

Danny nods.

“It’s very socially stimulating and healthy for ghosts to throw down every once in a while. It’s basically the ghost equivalent of puppies playfighting or friends checking in on each other and asking how you’ve been, you know?

“It helps them feel more, well, alive. We, as halfas, don’t really have the urge to fight other ghosts as much due to still being half alive, obviously. But some still visit me sometimes just for a quick fight.

“Though I do have to remind them sometimes that I’m more squishy than them, as the attacks they use sometimes would be fine for a full ghost, but for a human...” Danny winces before quickly moving on.

“But anyways, another reason for them leaving the Zone could be cause it’s just easier to manage their Obsession in this dimension than in the Ghost Zone.”

At Jason’s interjecting question of “What’s an obsession?” Danny elaborates. “Each ghost has an Obsession, capital O, and it’s what keeps them mostly sane and keeps them from fading.”

“For example, my Obsession is space, though we thought it was something else at first. But then you have other ghosts, who might be Obsessed about things like boxes, being remembered, technology, etc.

“Ghosts can also have multiple Obsessions, but it depends. It all varies from ghost to ghost, but that’s the basic gist of it. And for a lot of ghosts, it could be more difficult to fulfil these Obsessions in the Ghost Zone, instead of here, where they might have more access to their Obsession.

“Though, either way, for us halfas it’s a bit different. Because we’re still partly human and alive, we’re not as bound by our Obsessions as other ghosts might be.”

Jason nods a little, taking it all in. At the small lull in conversation, Jason brings up a slight change of topic, having enough information he still needs to digest for now.

“So, ghosts, huh?” He starts. ”And here I thought you were some kind of vampire meta”

Danny sputters after hearing Jason’s admission.

“A vampire meta?! What gave you that idea?”

Danny looks at Jason incredulously. Jason gives him a considering look before starting to list his ‘evidence.’

“Well, let's start with the fangs and pointed ears—”

“That doesn't have to mean anything!”

“—Next off, you’re cold to the touch, impossibly strong, impossibly fast, as you appeared in no time after I texted you about your sister— “

“But I have an ice core! And that was— “

“Not to mention the fact that when I asked how you got there onto the roof that fast, you told me you flew, which, you could do if you were, oh, I don’t know, a bat—”

“I wasn’t a bat though! I’m not that good at shapeshifting yet—”

“And besides all of that, I’m around 90% sure your sister drank some of my blood when biting me. And family members with the meta gene having similar powers isn’t uncommon—” 

“That’s just how Ellie is! I think she got that from Vlad more than anything,” Danny protests.

Jason raises an eyebrow before putting on a fake serious tone of voice.

“I know what you are…”

Danny blinks and pauses before pushing him gently with a laugh. “Jason—”

“So, you’re telling me you don’t sparkle in the sun?” Jason asks with a grin.

“Dude, you’ve seen me outside during the day before!” He smiles.

“It’s Gotham! The sun doesn’t shine here, which is obviously why you moved here. So, you wouldn’t easily be found out by going outside,” Jason argues teasingly.

Danny falls still for a moment, giving Jason a pondering look before grinning.

“You wanted to be like Bella Swan, with your own dramatic romance novel moment, didn’t you?”

Danny’s grin widens as Jason stills.

“That’s it, isn’t it?!”

“No. No, no, no—” Jason starts vehemently denying it as Danny pushes on.

“You want to be a main character in a YA romance novel—”

“I do not—”

“It’s alright, Jason. For you, I’ll be the Edward Cullen to your Bella Swan” Danny tells him reassuringly, patting his back lightly as Jason just sighs and hides his face in his hands.

“You’re gonna be the death of me” He groans.

“Well, fortunately for you, ‘till death do us part’ doesn’t really apply to us, Ghost Boy.” Danny jokes.

It does the job, and Jason gains a small smile on his face as he shakes his head at Danny with a huff. He then moves his gaze from Danny back to the side, onto Gotham. Danny follows his gaze.

They stay seated in each other's hold, enjoying the other’s company and presence. It was getting quite late.

“Shall we go back?”

They gaze out over the city from their spot, city lights reflected in their eyes.

“Yeah… let’s…”

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm @jaguarthecat @arkita-shadow @noideawhatshappeninghelp @jaitwin5 @apple-juice16 @mossy-bonez @harvestandhearth

[ghostly-penumbra]

Father and Sons

Ao3 FFN

Summary: Clockwork is Danny's loving, adoptive grandpa. Time is the Endless neglectful father. They are one and the same.

[Chapter One]

Chapter Two: Introduction

- - -

Danny glared at the pages of his book willing them to make sense through his mounting headache.

“C’mon, Fenton this isn’t rocket science!”

“Actually,” his book said, closing itself in his grasp and using its pages as a mouth, “I am.” It turned, showing Danny its cover with the title Rocket Science for Stressed College Ghosts by D. J. F.

“Oh, yeah, you are. Still, though,” he opened the book again, finding his childhood drawing of himself astride a rocket, “gotta keep my mind in the game.”

“Daniel Fenton.”

Danny looked up at the sound of his name and found a guy around his age who reminded him of himself in a weird, funhouse-mirror kinda way.

He was as pale as snow (no, really!) with wild white hair that defied gravity and green eyes as bright as the emerald gleaming on his chest, which was the only speck of colour in an otherwise solid white ensemble.

Before Danny could ask him if he needed anything, he realized something, “Oh, this is a Dream.” He stood up and found his sleeping body drooling all over his notebook, with several empty cups of coffee around him like a summoning circle. (One to which he wouldn’t mind being summoned to, if he was honest.)

“Would you walk with me, Daniel?” The guy asked.

With the ease of one who’s dreaming, Danny said, “I don’t really like leaving my body behind…”

“Your soul remains attached to it, it would just be your consciousness being away.”

Danny looked at his sleeping form for another half moment before nodding, “Yeah, okay.”

They left the library together, walking through the campus unperceived by those still up and about.

“I know you, right? You seem familiar.” Asked Danny at last.

“Yes, we have met before. Almost a hundred years ago for me, though I doubt it’s been so long for you. And it never actually happened, in the end.”

“You’re Clockwork’s son!” The halfa exclaimed as if it had made perfect sense. Since he was dreaming, it had. “Sorry, last time you… looked different.”

Dream of the Endless nodded, and his green eyes gave way to the visage of a starry night sky. “I was different.” He whispered, more to himself than Danny.

“I didn’t think I’d see ya again, if I’m being honest.” At the inquisitive sound Dream made, Danny elaborated, “I’ve met some of your siblings and, well, I know I’m not you guys’ favorite person, even if you don’t mess with me ‘n’ stuff…”

“Yes.” Dream nodded. “I imagine.”

After another moment of silence, the Endless spoke again.

“I came to you to ask for a favour.” Danny looked at him curiously, and Dream procured a bent, artsy-looking pocket watch from his white coat. “I’ve finally retrieved my father’s saeculum; it must be returned to him. I don’t wish to bother him again, so I believe it would be better to ask you to deliver it when next you visit him, if you are amenable.”

“Of course no problem.” Danny took the watch in his hands and turned it this way and that. “Huh, I think I’ve seen him working on this.” He said awkwardly to fill the silence.

Danny stared at Dream, his lips pursed and Dream stared back, impassive.

“I don’t mind helping you out with this, but… you could… go and visit him, that’d be cool. I think he would like that.” Danny finally said not meeting the other’s eye.

“My father has made it quite clear he doesn’t.” Dream said. “You were there, Daniel.”

“Yes! I- I know, but… if it’s a social visit, he’ll like it, I’m sure of that.” Dream looked at him hard, incredulous, and Danny sighed. “Look, I know Clockwork is not the best father he could be, and that’s on him not on you or your siblings, but… I care about him, yeah? And he’ll probably ground me for saying this, but he’s lonely! And I… just… think that if you came over just to say hi, he’d like that.”

They had stopped walking, and Danny still couldn’t look Dream in the eye, his gaze instead on his white shoes.

“I don’t need your help.” Dream said after a moment and Danny flinched, afraid he had overstepped and now Clockwork’s son would go to him himself and throw Danny’s words to his face and- “But I was curious;” the Endless continued over Danny’s internal panicking, making him halt and finally look up into starry eyes, “as I said, last time we met, I was different, other. Whatever my predecessor, the first Dream of the Endless thought of you is out of my reach, but looking at these memories… I’m curious as to what kind of person is the one my father favours so that he has adopted you as his grandson, doting on you as he doesn’t on his children.”

Danny felt himself being measured, his worth put on a scale against his grandpa’s seven children for their right to him.

He knew it wasn’t a competition because he had already won. That didn’t make him feel good.

“I see now that you love him, independently of whatever boon he granted you, but you don’t covet his attention, so he doesn’t deny it to you. You see him as other than his post so he presents himself to you that way.”

Danny didn’t know what to say, he probably didn’t understand everything that was being not said by his chosen grandpa’s son.

He couldn’t say ‘he’s not that bad, really’ without having to omit ‘to me’ and he didn’t want to lie so he just changed the topic. Or rather, he came back on topic.

“I’ll give him the sæculum next time I see him, and you won’t owe me anything, I’ll do it gladly,” he looked again at the surrealistic piece of art, wondering what was its purpose, before looking back at Dream, “but please, just think about it that’s all I ask.” He finished with a small, helpless shrug.

“I will consider it, but I can’t promise you anything.” Dream said, and Danny almost sighed in relief, but held it back. “But regardless of that…” The Endless began again, and Danny straightened, as he felt he was the one in the other’s debt, “my father has taken you in as his grandson and that makes us family.”

Danny blinked, startled, and waited for Dream to elaborate on that, but when he didn’t Danny assumed he must’ve missed some social cue and hurried to answer, “I mean, that’s- optional, y’know? With it being a symbolic adoption and all, not even legal though very real for us. You don’t have to. I wouldn’t want ya to feel some, obligation if you don’t want to be-”

“I want to.”

Danny stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the person-shaped concept facing him, speechless.

“I want to be your family, Danny. If you are amenable to it.”

“I- that’s- ah, I, I don’t- yeah! Yes.” Danny said, mind still lagging. “That, I’d like that.”

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Danny leaves Amity Park and Earth to commit to his rile as Ghost King

Ok I can’t lie to yall it’s one am and I wanted to write danny becomes ghost king and moves to the realms but misses school so asks William Lancer to skype call him during class so he can still be there. But I got very off track. Like I think I wrote a character study of jazz? I had to force myself to stop no joke. I could write this way forever but I think it’s kinda boring to read when I write in this style.

Anyway rambling here it is

Danny becomes the high King of the Infinite Realms and tries his hardest ti balance it all with his human life but it’s too much. He can’t keep up. His parents start putting more and more pressure on him. Plus their hatred if Phantom and ghosts has gone from a 10 to one hundred. Jazz thinks their obsessed, like their in love but with the idea of destroying Phantom. She no longer tries to give Danny a false hope of them accepting him as a halfa. Like he can’t see that. Every time she pulls him out if the kitchen, the living room, the lab. Hell every time Danny walks down the hall and one ih his parents join him, theres Jazz. As if summoned. Shes made it her mission to keep Danny from them and when she can’t she will do her best to make sure hes not alone with then. He thinks it’s a bit extreme and secretly is so glad for it. It’s like shes telling him his feelings are justified and that hes not crazy for being scared of his parents. That he doesn’t have to have the same fear of her. Shes on his side. Shes protecting him. And it’s nice. To be the one protected for once.

So they make a plan for him to leave. The Realms arent going ti give up or go away so he might as well go there. At least if hes nit running from his new responsibilities as Ghost King then they wont have to track him down and dump it in him once it’s piled up too much to be ignored. Hes already told Jazz hes not going ti pass up the crown. Imagine the good he can do as King. Plus hes promised that if he needs any help he will ask. So she helps him go. Their parents hardly notice when Danny disappeared from their house. Their obsession, their devotion, to Phantom has completely blinded them. Jazz is only staying because she is so close to finished here so wont have ti stay long. Less than a year and she can go off to any college she wants. Her grades are proof enough that she knows she wont tied to them and their money. She will be dependent of them and make a name for herself completely unrelated to them. These monsters who have taken her parents place.

She does wish she noticed sooner. Make she could have spared Danny so much pain and trauma had she just seen the signs. It was so clear to her now that this was their path. With every passing day she should have seen what they would become. But children love their parents regardless of goodness and she wanted to, no needed to believe they would do right by Danny. That no her parents wouldnt try to turn their son into a science experiment and strap him to a table and cut him open. She so craved and longed for a normal stable family. Something she no doubt learned doesn’t exist while studying physiology. She can’t blame herself. She knows it’s not her fault. She is still a child and still loved her parents. Even now as she makes plans to leave them and never come back to them. Even now she loves them. ‘Maybe im making a mistake’ ‘am I doing the right thing?’ The doubts pour into her mind. Then she sees them or talks to them and is once again reminded of why shes doing this. She has no doubts about if she can do it. She is smart and resourceful. She can easily make it on her own with a full ride to pretty much any collage. She would earn money as a tutor still and maybe even write articles online for cash, shes already got some offers, but that little voice in her mind still nags at her that they’re her parents and they love her. Maybe they used to but she knows they only care about one thing. Their “work” or their “science” in reality it’s their obsession. Ironic how they are like ghosts with their obsession controlling them. Unable to do anything else, think about anything else, until is fulfilled. If they just achieved their goal they would let up and maybe even return to their family. Minds no longer unable to sleep due to thoughts of their target. But Jazz could never let them. The price of her loving parents is the life of her sweet little brother. What a choice for a 17 year old to make. Have the family she was promised from all the media she had as a kid, showing familys of understanding and endless love. Or lose any hope of loving parents to help her little brother have his own loving family.

The choice was clear. She would sacrifice anything for him after all. If he asked her to give up her human life and join him in ruling the Realms she would have. Hell if he asked her to become a halfa she would have. This sweet boy whos willing to give up everything for everyone else deserves at least that. The hero who is not loved for his acts but despised, hated even, by those who he protects. A crueler fate even that his whole being obsessed with protecting them. Even if he wanted to give up on them he couldnt. She doesn’t even think hes capable of wanting to give up on protecting them. His ghost obsession keeps him from it. So she will give to the giver. He deserves just that.

~~~~

[lavendarlily]

@phicphight fill #2!

for @balshumetsbaragouin

one foot after the other

prompt: PR041 - Vlad finally gets therapy.

words: 1,578

click here to read on ao3

after the events of phantom's release, vlad feels something different. he chooses to follow it.

Vlad looks in the mirror. 

Not much has changed, not really. At least, not like this.

He lifts his shirt and stares at the long scar across his chest. A faint blue glow outlines the edges of it, pulsing in time with the vibrating of his core. It is a permanent reminder of the first step - a painful, overdue one. 

Now what? What is the second step? The third? How does a man change?    

With a grimace, Vlad pulls his shirt back down and throws on his coat. Perhaps… it was time to make a visit. 

Your future is now entirely in your hands.

A second chance. Something every human could only dream of. For Vlad, it is real. He could leave his home without worrying about a global manhunt. He could make amends with Jack and Maddie, rekindle the friendship they once had. He could fix his relationship with Danielle, invite her to live with him and have a sense of stability. Perhaps there was even room to gain Daniel’s trust and offer his resources as the elder halfa.  

On his way out, he passes his bedroom, and Vlad stiffens his gait. While Phantom was in fact as much of Vlad as he is Daniel, a chasm spans between the two, and Vlad starts to give up on ever having any kind of relationship with the boy. 

The only other thing they share is the long glowing scar.

Driving to the Fenton’s takes long enough for Vlad to question this idea four times and consider turning around two of those times. Maybe if he had another few miles to talk himself out of it a fifth time, he would’ve called it. But there he is, standing in front of the obnoxious orange sign indicating he’d indeed arrived at the residence of his college acquaintances. He rasises his fist to knock on the door, then pauses.

I should’ve called. I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here? 

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and raps his knuckles on the door. 

In just the few seconds it takes for the knob to turn, Vlad goes back and forth on the possibility of just turning invisible and flying off, saving himself the embarrassment of what he’d come for. 

“Vlad.”

Through one word it’s clearly communicated he is not welcome, but the young woman standing in front of him is the only reason he dares to chance this visit. 

“Jasmine, I-”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing here. Just because my parents don’t remember the awful stunt you pulled doesn’t mean you can just come back here and mess with them more. Danny’s not here either, so whatever you came here for you can forget it.”

Vlad waits, hesitant to move forward with his plan, but by God, he needs this. 

“I came to talk to you, actually,” he states calmly. “I,” he wrings his hands together nervously, “have some questions about psychology.”

She stares back at him dubiously. “So what, you’ve moved on to mind control? Psychological warfare? Just because-”

“Jasmine, please. It’s for… for myself. To be better.” He clears his throat. “I want to be better.”

He watches the gears turn in her head, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. For better or worse, she opens the door wider and steps aside for Vlad to enter. 

“No one’s home,” she says, closing the door behind them. “But you should make it quick.” Jazz walks into the living room and sits on the couch expectantly. Vlad swallows the lump in his throat and wisely takes a seat in the chair across the room. 

“Well, I may as well jump right into it then,” he starts. “Ever since the events of,” he waves his hand around, trying to find the words, “Phantom, I suppose we’ll call it, I’ve made some realizations.”

“I do not want to be burdened by my past. I’ve been given the miracle of a second chance, and I understand that I cannot repeat the same mistakes lest I arrive at the same miserable conclusion. Yet I feel I cannot pursue the traditional means of therapy, for the circumstances of my life do not bode well with the openness necessary to achieve the results I need, if you catch my meaning.”

Vlad sighs. “Jasmine - I was hoping you could point me in the right direction so I may begin my journey to heal not only myself, but those I’ve hurt in the process.” 

“I have to say, it’s incredible that someone as dense as yourself could accept the fact they need to pursue psychological resources,” Jasmine says. “So I guess I shouldn’t waste this opportunity of a medical miracle.” 

It takes everything in him to ignore the jab.

“My mom knows someone dabbling in a newer approach to treating mental illnesses. It’s not widely accepted yet, but I think it’s your best chance. I’ll see if she’d consider referring you.” The young woman stands, signaling the end of the conversation. 

“My dear child, I would appreciate nothing more.”

—-------

A few days later a call comes in from Maddie’s friend. Jasmine had come through in the end, though Vlad isn’t prepared for what the physician suggests. Yet after a thorough conversation over the phone, he hangs up having scheduled an evaluation. 

Three weeks later, he’s in his bed, a small pill in his hand. It sits heavy in his palm. So much riding on this one little drug. So many questions to be answered, so many revelations to be had. So much hope for the closure he sought after.

If it worked. 

Vlad pushes the doubt away - this would work. He’s prepared for it, put in the effort, has approached this with an open mind. Otherwise, the alternative would be to stay in his current reality, doomed to a life that he can’t stand.  

He takes the pill, lies down, and closes his eyes, sliding on his eye mask.

The effects start slowly - Vlad gradually eases into a relaxed state, much more relaxed than he’d felt since the time glitches and release of Phantom. It reminds him a bit of the old days, when he and Jack would work together in the college lab, too engrossed in their work to chat, but still enjoying each other’s company. 

The sense of relaxation grows until Vlad feels like he’s actually floating; he grasps at his sheets to make sure he hasn’t accidentally levitated himself off the bed. He lets his mind wander back to the times of working with Jack. How they’d shared breakthroughs, offered advice, celebrated big wins by going out to their favorite diner for a drink and a slice of pie. There was so much happiness in those memories, memories that Vlad had buried deep after his accident. Why had he done that? Revisiting those moments now is a breath of fresh air, a reminder of hope, of what life could be like. 

Then there were the days where Maddie was in the labs with them. Her inquisitive nature and undying curiosity captivated Vlad. She brought a new life to the sterile four walls they shared. There was so much Vlad learned from her - both in regards to ectosciences and life. There was a point in time he couldn’t imagine living life without his two friends beside him. Never did he think he’d lose them both. 

How did he deserve their friendship? What did they see in him? Who was that person, and where did he go? 

Why did Vlad let him go?

He can almost physically see the two paths in front of him. One, the very road he’d taken, filled with bitterness, vengeance, hurt. Turned-down wedding invitations, offers to visit and meet his niece and nephew, thrown out birthday cards and well-meaning gifts. 

The other path - uncharted and untouched. Filled with light, love, warmth. He wants to reach for it, take the first step forward and burst into a sprint towards whatever waits for him at the end, but the gates are locked and he doesn’t have the key. Yet he can’t find it in himself to be frustrated. He only finds hope that the path exists. There was a key out there somewhere. He just had to find it. Vlad focused on the idea of possibility and opportunity rather than outrage at the bump in the road. And he realized there’s a weight lifted off of him. 

It’s incredibly gratifying. 

Vlad is a smart man. He can put two and two together. In this instance, he finds the first clues towards the key: patience and acceptance. Everything needs time. Trying to get what he wants when he wants has only brought pain and suffering throughout his life. While he’d thought he’d been resourceful and ambitious throughout his life, Vlad now sees it for what it is: selfishness. 

Another weight is lifted.

It’s marvelous. 

All too soon, Vlad feels the pull of gravity bring him back to reality. He slowly rises, placing the eye mask on his nightstand. He heads to the kitchen, fills a kettle and puts it on the stove top, then starts a fire in the fireplace of his study. Once the kettle begins screaming, Vlad returns to the kitchen to make his tea and settles himself in front of the fire. The flames are vibrant and hypnotic, and he wonders if he’s actually come out of his state of altered consciousness.

He sits. 

He thinks. 

He hopes.

[lexosaurus]

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

[ghostgothgeek]

Pull.

My first for the Phic Phight! 1,685 words.

Danny's been summoned. But not by who you'd expect. In fact, not by an actual person. Prompt by Greyheartwriter.

-----

Danny had been summoned before. Or rather, Phantom has. Usually by Sam, with Tucker occasionally tagging along. Typically when he was grounded. His two best friends always got a kick out of it. Grounded or not, they were going to hang out with their friend, especially when he insisted he should probably stay home “just in case”. He hadn’t gotten caught yet, but there have been a few close calls. Regardless, summoning Phantom was one of the rare moments the trio had to goof off and be regular teenagers. Well, regular enough anyway. 

Danny sat with his elbows on the desk, hands gripping his hair in frustration. Falluca had assigned a large problem set to be done overnight. Like Danny didn’t have anything better to do - rest, catch ghosts, nap, hang with his friends, sleep. At 10:30 pm, he was almost done, he was just stuck on this one problem. He thought about calling Sam and asking for help, but he really wanted to try getting this on his own first. 

He grabbed his pencil and tried writing out the problem for the 400th time when he felt the pull. “Oh no,” Danny muttered and looked around his room before trying extra hard to focus on his math homework and not the pull. It always failed, but he had been trying to train himself to ignore the pull. “Not. Now.” 

Danny put his face closer to his paper and tried to focus, but the pull was getting stronger now. Ugh, why him? Why can’t people summon other ghosts? Well, that could get ugly and dangerous real fast, but come on! He was gonna kill Tucker and Sam. Or maybe…

Maybe his friends were struggling with the same problem as him and they wanted to put all their brain power together. But they could have just called. Regardless, he was still resisting the pull. 

The pull was just a feeling of needing to be physically somewhere else. Or it started out that way, anyway. It was like holding your breath and forcing yourself to not hiccup again. You could try to deal with it absentmindedly, but usually it was all you could focus on until you were satisfied. And that’s where Danny was at now, the pull was beginning to consume all of his thoughts, it was beginning to cloud his brain of anything else. He gripped his desk as he felt another strong pull. Whoever was calling him had done it at least 3 times now. Again, Danny tried to focus on his paper. 

Another pull, and Danny’s vision became cloudy. He felt anxious. He needed to be somewhere. What about math homework? That was supposed to be his top priority, they had a test on Friday. He gently started shaking as he tried to refrain. 

He fell out of his chair at another pull, another call. Fuck it. He couldn’t hold on anymore. 

He sighed, took a deep breath, and focused on the pull. He felt immediate relief as he answered. He felt the familiar feeling of following the call, like riding a waterslide or a rollercoaster in the dark. You had no idea where you were going, you couldn’t see anything in front of you. You didn’t know how long the ride would last and you had zero control. You were just being forced in a different direction, sometimes feeling the whiplash of the unexpected. 

He could feel his core becoming colder. He felt his transformation into Phantom, and soon enough, the blackness was beginning to fade, and he tried to gather his surroundings. “Sam, Tucker, if it’s you I swear I’m gonna-” 

Oh, OH. This was new. Danny didn’t even know that this was possible. He guessed it made sense though. Maybe Ouija boards were like cell phones in the Ghost Zone. Ghosts had to get a hold of each other somehow. 

He turned his body as he slowly looked around. He didn’t know this part of the Ghost Zone. He didn’t even see any ghosts around. He started to panic. He didn’t know where he was, or who called him, or if anyone even actually called him at all. Was this some new stupid ghost power he had to learn to controll again? He just figured out how to keep his pants from falling down when he tried to flirt with girls. Not important right now, he reminded himself. He formed a small ectoball of energy in his hand, preparing himself for any attack. 

But no attack came. Instead, he just felt a little nudge at his feet. Looking down, he sighed and dropped his ectoball. “Really?” He glanced down at his caller. “First of all, how did you even learn to do that?!” 

Headbutting his ankle was the small green fluffball nicknamed Cujo, in his puppy form. To answer Danny’s question, he used his nose to nudge the planchette on the board, moving it around until Danny began to feel the pull again, though this time the pull wasn’t as strong because he was already in his destination. 

Danny chuckled and scratched the pup’s ear. “What’s up buddy? I gotta finish my homework.” 

Cujo barked and wagged his tail ferociously, sticking his butt up towards the air as he bounced around. Eventually, the dog dragged his squeaky toy towards the halfa and barked again. 

“I can’t play! I have to finish my homework so I can try to get a few hours of sleep in a row tonight. Sorry dude, but no.” 

The puppy’s excitement level deteriorated quickly. He let out a little whine, and gave Danny his best puppy dog eyes. Danny sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. Cujo was adamant on playing, that much was clear. He called him 6 times already, what was going to stop the pooch from doing it again until he got what he wanted? Maybe just for a few minutes…

Cujo’s tail began wagging again as he could see Danny caving in. “Alright, alright. I needed a break anyways.” He formed another ectoball and threw it as hard as he could. “Go long, Cuj!” He smiled as the pup darted after the ball at lightning speed and stretched his muscles for the few seconds it took for Cujo to return with the ball. The pup barked excitedly. 

Danny smiled, he always wanted a dog anyway. He threw the ball for Cujo for another few minutes, before playing tug of war and teasing the dog with the squeaky toy. “Who’s a good boy?” Danny said in a voice only reserved for Cujo and other animals (except for Sam’s pet snake...he couldn’t use his little baby voice on that thing, it was too weird). He rubbed the dog’s belly, laughing when Cujo’s back leg would twitch in response to the belly rubs. 

The phantom yawned as he laid down on the ground next to the pup, using one hand to prop his head up and the other to scratch Cujo’s chin. “I’ll admit, you are making me feel more relaxed.” 

Soon enough, Danny was snoozing with the little puppy curled up into his side, snoring softly. Though, the moment of peace didn’t last more than 15 minutes as Danny woke up to the feeling of being pulled again. He groaned, gave Cujo a little kiss on his head, and answered the new call. 

Sure enough, he was in the middle of Sam’s room, falling to her rug as he was still too drowsy to make a better landing. He heard Tucker’s laugh and jolted up, shaking the remaining grogginess out of his head. Danny groaned, “what?!” 

“Look who woke up on the wrong side of the...rug…” Tucker tried. Danny could feel Sam rolling her eyes as she offered him a hand so he could stand up. 

Danny couldn’t help but let out a low growl, “Tucker…” 

“We’ve been trying to call you for 25 minutes already! Guess you didn’t have your phone on you. Thank the goddesses for Ouija boards,” Sam stated as she straightened out her skirt. 

“Why? What’s wrong? Is there a ghost?” Danny examined her room, making a face at the snake that he swore was glaring at him. 

“School starts in 4 minutes, dude,” Tucker explained as he grabbed his backpack. 

“You gotta fly us to your house to get your stuff then fly us to school, and maybe we won’t get detention this time,” Sam put her backpack on as well. 

“Ah, fuck,” Danny quickly grabbed his friends’ arms and flew as quickly as he could to his room, grabbing his backpack and flying to school. His parents were already in the lab working on stuff, and Danny doubted they even noticed he was missing and almost late for school. A bomb could go off in the town and they would be so immersed in their work that they wouldn’t hear it. His overattentive sister, on the other hand, had apparently been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now, only stopping when Sam texted Jazz that they had Danny with them. 

The trio landed in the bush as the first warning bell rang. Danny transformed and they ran into the school together, making it to their homeroom late, but for once luck was on their side as the teacher wasn’t paying attention...her car alarm mysteriously went off. 

Danny pulled out his notebook and realized he still had to finish that math problem. Shit. 

He turned as Sam tapped his shoulder, handing him her homework. He smiled gratefully. 

“Don’t worry, Tucker had to copy mine too. That problem took me 5 hours to solve. You both owe me.” 

Danny sighed in relief and nodded. He had 10 minutes to copy this down, and it was two pages long. It should be a crime to assign problems that long. He pulled out his pencil and started scribbling down the solution when he felt it. 

Another pull. Damn that dog. No, he loved Cujo. Damn that Ouija board. “Remind me to find Cujo a puppy friend,” the halfa muttered to his friends.

[darks-ink]

Ephemeral

Prompt: Tucker Ghouly thought this was going to be a good, peaceful day. That thought is crushed when not one, not two, but three portals open, depositing the halfa versions of his two best friends (and his best friend’s sister?) into this world. Why are they here? And how are they going to return to their home worlds? Prompt by: @bibliophilea Word count: 4,175

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

“This patrol has been very calm,” Tucker muttered, raising himself higher in the air like that would reveal some sort of hidden ambush. “Suspiciously calm.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Danny grumbled, rolling his eyes. One of his hands wandered to the ecto-gun hidden under his black jacket.

Something in Tucker’s chest seized—his core, he knew instantly—and he jerked to a halt. So did both of his friends, coming to a stand-still a step behind him. A green spark flickered in front of them.

“Too late,” Sam grunted, pulling her own small ecto-gun out of its holster. “This one is on you, Tuck.”

“When isn’t it?” he bit back, but lit up his fists with roiling violet ectoplasm anyway. Whatever this was, whether it would be hostile or not, he was ready.

The spark spluttered, and for a moment it seemed to extinguish entirely. Then, with a terrible ripping sound—a sound which seemed to echo in Tucker’s very core—the green extended, like a tear through reality.

A portal into the Ghost Zone.

The surface of the portal wavered, then parted way as a single humanoid ghost stumbled through. Literally stumbled through, feet on the ground, almost tripping on the edge of the portal as it immediately closed behind the ghost.

And then the noise came again, and then a third time, as two more portals opened up, just to the side of where the first had been. And, again, the portals both released a single humanoid ghost before immediately closing again.

“What the hell,” Danny muttered behind him, and Tucker could only heartily agree. At least he didn’t seem to be the only one confused by the going-ons, as the first ghost to stumble through was also watching the newcomers.

Or he had been, because the ghost’s gaze had snapped towards Tucker—and more importantly, Danny—when his friend had spoken.

Bright green eyes blinked at the two of them, and Tucker was struck with a sense of familiarity. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to see through the glowing eyes, the innate difference in appearance caused by the mild glow of a ghost, before he could place the face.

The ghost was an exact copy of Danny. Or, more accurately, of a hypothetical ghost version of Danny, since his hair was as white as Tucker’s was in his ghost form, and his usual blue eyes replaced with green.

He ripped his eyes away from Danny’s ghostly doppelganger to look at the other two ghosts, and felt his stomach flip. One of them was undeniably Sam’s copy, with white hair and vivid cyan eyes. The other took him a moment longer to place, before he realized she looked like a younger version of Danny’s sister Jazz.

“Huh,” Sam mumbled, stepping up to Tucker’s other shoulder. All three ghosts’ eyes followed the movement. “This is… odd.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” the ghostly version of Danny said. Despite the echo, his voice was undeniably Danny’s. “So, uh. I guess none of you were responsible for the creation of that portal?” He paused, looking over his shoulder at the other two ghosts. “Or, those portals, since there were multiple?”

“Definitely not,” Tucker confirmed, and let the ectoplasm gathering in his fists sizzle out. None of the ghosts seemed hostile, and he didn’t really feel much for fighting his friends’ duplicates.

“I didn’t do it either,” the young Jazz said, her golden eyes narrowed and her purple hair flickering violently in a manner that reminded Tucker uncomfortably of Ember.

“Me neither,” Sam’s doppelganger piped up, crossing her arms. “So, Danny, you up to something?”

Ghostly Danny flinched and pulled a face that Tucker immediately placed as guilty. “Uhhh…”

“Why is my ghost version a disaster?” Danny loudly complained, leaning against Tucker’s shoulder now that he had—without noticing it himself—come low enough to the ground for Danny to reach.

“Just be glad that he’s wearing black,” Sam put in, leaning around Tucker’s other side to watch her own ghostly copy. “Since apparently everyone else has been forced into brightly colored jumpsuits.”

“Stop dodging the point,” the younger Jazz snapped, before whirling around to her ghostly brother. “What did you do, big brother?”

“Big brother?” both Danny’s echoed, eyeing her. When she growled, the ghostly Danny raised his hands placatingly and added on, “I didn’t— Okay, I might’ve, but I didn’t mean to!”

“Illuminating,” Sam’s ghostly double muttered, shaking her head. “Please stop dodging around the point, Danny.”

Luminescent green eyes rolled as Danny’s copy lowered his hands again. “Okay, so I might have been trying to open a portal to the Ghost Zone. I was just trying to reach a friend!”

“And you somehow missed catastrophically,” Sam concluded, now also leaning on Tucker. He was starting to feel slightly used. “You know what? That checks out.”

“Wow,” Danny muttered, pressing a hand against his chest. “I’m hurt, Sam. Right in my poor black heart.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you three!” Jazz snarled, her glow flickering brighter for a moment before it settled again. “That explains how Danny got here, but what about us?” She gestured at herself and Sam’s ghostly version. “Why are Sam and I here?”

“The connection between Danny’s world and this one must’ve destabilized something.” Sam’s ghost frowned, brows drawing together in thought. “Or maybe something about how he reached for a friend drew us in too?”

All five of them looked at the ghostly Danny, whose shoulders slowly but steadily climbed up to his ears.

“Sorry?” he said, sounding uncertain. “Uh. Whoops?”

Danny snorted, then shook his head. “Maybe we should move somewhere a little more private while we figure this out, since it doesn’t seem like you folks are intent on causing trouble.”

“We can go to my place, since we actually have a shot at privacy there,” Sam offered, stepping away from Tucker. “The three of us will need to go through the front door. Can I assume you three can find the way to the greenhouse yourselves?”

Sam’s ghostly double raised an eyebrow, then grinned. “Yeah, I think I can manage that. We’ll be right there.”

“Just know that if you don’t show up, we will hunt you down,” Danny threatened, holding a single finger in their direction. “You’re not safe just because you look like us.”

“Yeah, yeah, we hear you loud and clear,” Danny’s double replied, waving him off almost casually. “Get going.”

They went.

---

By the time Tucker, Sam, and Danny made it to Sam’s greenhouse, the three ghosts had already arrived. True to expectations, Sam’s double was checking out the plants. The other two, ghostly Danny and Jazz, seemed to be frowning at each other.

Tucker cleared his throat the moment he stepped inside, ignoring the way his core pulled in his chest. He had very little experience dealing with ghosts while human, and felt distinctly disarmed. If they attacked, he would need precious moments to transform.

But that was if they attacked, which he highly doubted.

“Oh,” ghost Danny said, with a tone of heavy understanding. “We’re all half-ghosts, then. That makes sense.”

“Does it?” Tucker muttered, only halfheartedly venomous. “No, I guess it does. Can we start with introductions?”

Jazz nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “There is too much overlap in the names, I think. Should all half-ghosts go by our ghost names, then? Since I assume we all have one?”

The half-ghost version (apparently?) of Sam turned away from the plant she’d been looking at. “I’m Manes, then. And can I just say that this is a damn impressive greenhouse.”

“Thanks,” the actual Sam answered with a snort and a pleased smile. “It’s a good place to hide away from my parents.”

Half-ghost Danny shook his head, the expression on his face somewhere between hurt and cheered. His Sam must be the same about plants, then. “I’m Phantom.”

“Specter,” half-ghost Jazz chipped in, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Tucker kind of got it. Somehow, they all went with a similar theme on names, yet lacked overlap entirely. “I went with Ghouley, but considering that I’m the only Tucker around, you can just call me Tucker.”

“Where is your sense of camaraderie, Tuck?” Phantom asked, grinning impishly. “We’re all in this together, aren’t we?”

“So it seems,” he allowed with a grumble, rolling his eyes. “Am I supposed to shift to my ghost form as well, or are you all gonna shift back to human, or…?”

The other three exchanged brief glances before Manes shrugged, a ring of white light forming around her waist. The light swept away cyan eyes and a green suit, leaving her in a rather generic shirt and skirt combo, the same green and purple he knew from his own Sam, and her usual purple eyes blinking back at him.

Phantom huffed but followed her, letting his own transformation wash away the black jumpsuit and green eyes, replacing them with a white and red shirt and ordinary jeans, sky blue eyes like the Danny right behind Tucker.

With the other two transformed, Specter rolled her eyes but also shifted, her golden eyes turning teal and her purple ponytail coming down to cascade red hair over her shoulders—just like the Jazz Tucker knew, if a little younger.

“So they are all half-ghosts,” Danny jibed, gesturing at the three… the three alternate versions of his friends. And Jazz. “That’s good to know.”

“This was a test?” Phantom asked, raising his own eyebrow and looking eerily like Danny. Tucker was kind of starting to wish he had just shifted back to his ghost form for this. “I guess that that’s fair. I don’t think I would’ve trusted it either, if I was in your shoes.”

“Okay, not this isn’t nice and all,” Specter interrupted, sounded not at all sorry for doing so, “but can we please focus on the whole”—she gestured around them—“this thing?”

“She has a point,” Sam allowed, stepping further into the greenhouse. “We’re still working on the assumption that Phantom somehow did this?”

The boy in question made a face but didn’t deny it. “I was just trying to open a portal. I don’t know how it went this wrong!”

“Was this your first time opening a portal?” Manes asked, leaning forward with an expression of curiosity on her face. “If so, what made you so certain you could do it?”

“I’ve seen a future version of myself do it,” Phantom explained with a dismissively casual shrug. “I managed at least one of the other powers I saw him do, so I figured portal making wasn’t out of the question either.”

Tucker felt himself frown at that. He’d seen a future version of himself? Sure, the three of them had run into all sorts of weird ghost stuff, but that? That wasn’t something he was familiar with.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one, because Manes also frowned. Specter, it seemed, did recognize the events, if vaguely, because she nodded understandingly.

“I’ve seen something similar,” she allowed. “But I never successfully opened a portal, either, despite what I’ve seen her do.”

“Weird.” Phantom shook his head, like he was clearing his thoughts. “I don’t know why Specter and I saw a future and you two didn’t, and I don’t know what went wrong with my attempt, either. I figured that if I messed it up it just wouldn’t work, not”—he gestured vaguely, much like Specter had before—“not this.”

“Must’ve been some weird Fenton thing,” Manes commented, her frown wiped away in favor of a grin. “Come on, there’s gotta be something that sets you apart from Specter, if she just couldn’t do it and you tore open the fabric of reality to tap into alternate dimensions.”

Phantom flapped his hands aggravatedly, and despite the oddness of the situation, Tucker was secretly kind of glad of how easy it was to read him and Manes. Specter was more troublesome—he didn’t spend a lot of time around Jazz—but his friends? Piece of cake.

“I don’t know, okay?” Phantom snapped, his eyes briefly flickering green. Really aggravated, then. Good to know. “I don’t know how I screwed up this badly! I didn’t even know it was possible for ghosts to open portals to different realities!”

“And you can’t think of anything that might work?” Specter pressed, crossing her arms and frowning at him. “No ghost artifacts or anything?”

That ground Phantom to a halt. “Uh. Hm…” His brow creased as he thought, muttering to himself under his breath, until… “The Reality Gauntlet could’ve done it, maybe?”

“The what?” Tucker blurted out automatically. That sounded like some kind of superhero comic device, not an actual ghost artifact.

“The Reality Gauntlet?” Phantom repeated, like that alone could explain everything. “Big metal glove, fits four gems? Can alter the fabric of reality?”

Tucker shook his head in negative, and was oddly relieved to see not only Manes but also Specter answer in negative.

“No one else has dealt with it?” Phantom asked, incredulous.

“That must’ve been it, then,” Danny concluded, humming to himself. “The Gauntlet must’ve done it.”

“But that’s impossible,” Phantom countered, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “I destroyed it months ago.”

“And, assuming the timelines are roughly equal, your core would’ve been young enough to absorb the energy released from a broken ghost artifact,” Sam bit back. “What were you thinking, Phantom?”

“That it was too dangerous to leave hanging around!” Phantom’s eyes glowed green once more, but it was quickly repressed, and he continued in a quieter, more morose tone. “Freakshow already used it against my friends and family once. I couldn’t leave it hanging around for him—or someone else—to try again.”

That… checked out. Tucker might’ve done the same, if he had been in Phantom’s shoes. Danny definitely would’ve. “Okay, so now what?”

“We ask Clockwork?” Phantom suggested with a loose shrug. “He’s usually helpful for this sort of thing.”

Clockwork? That was a ghost name if Tucker had ever heard one, but not one he was familiar with. From Manes’ expression, neither was she.

He wasn’t sure whether it was comforting or not, that his universe and Manes’ were so similar when the Fentons’ universes were so different. It was like they were somehow significantly different from the Fentons. Was it because Sam and he weren’t the kids of ghost hunters? Somehow?

“Clockwork is the ghost of time, though.” Specter huffed, rolling her eyes at Phantom. “Besides, we’re in a different universe entirely, and it looks like Ghouley doesn’t know him. Clockwork probably won’t know any of us, never mind care enough to help.”

“Why can’t we just go and grab the Reality Gauntlet?” Manes asked. “If that’s the thing powerful enough to break through the fabric of reality, surely we can just use the one in this universe to make portals back?”

Phantom made a face at that. “I’m not sure where it is. I think Freakshow might’ve stolen in from the Guys in White, but I’m not 100% sure on that.”

Eugh. Yeah, that explained the face. “So that’s out too,” Tucker concluded, trying not to feel too down about it. At least he wasn’t stuck in a different reality altogether. But if there was no way to return the three other half-ghosts home… That was bound to become messy.

“Why can’t Phantom just try again?” Sam asked, a tone of genuine curiosity in her voice. “If we’re all pretty sure he’s the one responsible for the portals in the first place, maybe he can open up portals back, too.”

“Using a power he can’t control?” Manes returned, but she cocked her head in thought. “But I guess that it’s worth a shot.”

“We could try doing it together?” Specter suggested, placing a hand on Phantom’s shoulder. “We’re all half-ghosts, and we’re all here for some reason, right? If Phantom’s power brought us here, maybe we can combine all our powers to make the portals back?”

Danny huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think that that’s how ghost powers work, is it?”

The look he got from Specter could only be described as imperial. “Friendship—love—is all we have on our side, it seems. It brought us here, it can damn well bring us back, too.”

“That’s fair,” Danny allowed with a snort.

“I guess we’d better wait until it’s dark.” Tucker pulled out his phone, grimacing at the time. “Why don’t we all call our parents that we’re staying here and order in some food?”

Phantom shrugged, then sat down on a stool hanging out in the greenhouse. “Sounds good to me.”

“Same,” Specter said, following his example. Manes shrugged and nodded her approval as well.

“We could talk a little about the differences between our realities.” Danny stepped forward to nudge Phantom. “I, for one, would really like to know why you’re wearing white.”

“What am I, a goth?” Phantom laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve got Sam for that.”

Oh yeah, they would get through the time well enough, Tucker thought.

---

“I think it’s late enough,” Specter muttered, and Tucker jerked out of the drowse he’d fallen into. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he followed her gaze to outside the greenhouse.

“Looks like it,” he agreed with a yawn. “Let’s all sneak off to the park, then.”

The other half-ghosts—and Danny and Sam—pushed themselves out of their seats as well, getting to their feet slowly. Looked like he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten tired while waiting.

Actually, it made perfect sense that all his fellow half-ghosts got as little sleep as he did. Ghost hunting was bad for your sleep rhythm, he knew.

Tucker waved Danny over closer, then pushed a camera into his hand. “Can you film the thing for me?”

Danny snorted but nodded. “Of course, Tuck. Just don’t get yourself sucked into an alternate reality, please?”

“I’ll try,” he promised wryly, then nodded at the other half-ghosts, who had gathered into a sorta-kinda circle around the two of them. “I think the best plan is for all of us to fly there together. Two of us can carry Sam and Danny to sneak them in with us.”

Manes shrugged and stepped forward. “I can carry my counterpart, and Phantom can take Danny.”

“You’re volunteering my services?” Phantom squawked, then shook his head and stepped forward as well. “Sure, whatever. Yeah, I’ll carry this universe’s version of myself, no problem.”

Getting a nod of approval from Danny and Sam, Tucker figured it was all satisfied and shrugged. “If everyone’s fine with that. Let’s get going, then.”

He shifted into his ghost form before he finished the sentence, the other three half-ghosts following his example.

But, man, Tucker really hoped this would work. Having the other three stick around might be helpful in the whole ghost hunting business, but it was weird to see what his friends would look like as ghosts. Or, as half-ghosts at least, since he knew they all looked rather human compared to most other ghosts.

Phantom easily scooped up Danny, despite his earlier protests, and Manes was quick to follow suit and pick up Sam.

Tucker, not quite sure why he was their lead—because this was his universe, maybe?—pushed himself off of the ground, flickering intangible for a moment to exit the greenhouse. He didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to make sure the others followed, because he could feel them, faintly, trailing just a little behind him.

Good thing that it was too dark for people to tell who they were carrying, because that would be awkward. If people questioned Ghouley about the other ghosts he could at least sorta-kinda tell the truth and say they were his friends, but if they had seen Sam or Danny with them? That was asking for trouble, for sure.

Before he knew it they had arrived at the park, all of them touching down silently. They must’ve looked like a fright, their glowing eyes piercing through the dark, but it looked abandoned enough.

Which was exactly what they had counted on, since the park was closed at night, but you never knew.

Sam and Danny were released by Manes and Phantom, trailing away to the edge of the square where they had landed. Making sure they stayed out of the way of whatever was going to happen here.

Good. That made Tucker feel better. If this somehow went catastrophically wrong… at least they would be safe.

Specter reached forward, suddenly, grabbing Phantom’s hand and linking their fingers together. Then, with her free hand, she gestured Manes over.

Clearly the other half-ghost caught on quicker than Tucker or Phantom, because she grabbed Specter’s free hand and then reached for Tucker. Following their example, he linked his hand with Manes’ offered hand, and then grabbed Phantom’s, completing the circle.

“This is stupid,” the half-ghost in question muttered, glaring venomously at the ground between them. “I’m pretty sure I used my hands to open the first portal.”

“Well, what else do you want us to do to offer our strength? Put our hands on your back?” Specter snorted, the smile in her voice undeniable. “Just try it, ghost-boy.”

Phantom rolled his eyes, then closed them. Took a deep breath. For a moment, it looked like nothing happened, but then…

Then, Tucker could feel the swell of power in the air. Could feel it waver through Phantom, down their connected hand. Could feel the energy running through his own core, through his hand to Manes.

Could feel the pulses of— of whatever it was going through all of them at once.

And, as a terrible but familiar shredding sort of noise sounded, the energy fled from them all at once. Phantom pulled himself free from Tucker’s hold—not that Tucker tried to stop him—and stepped closer to one of the three portals that had opened up.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Tucker muttered to himself, and he heard Manes snort next to him. Quickly he let go of her hand as well, and watched her step closer to one of the portals as well. A different one than Phantom’s.

“I think it did,” Specter said thoughtfully, moving towards the third portal. “It… calls to me, almost?”

Manes hummed in agreement. Rather than reply, Phantom just stuck his head through the portal he’d been looking at. Tucker flinched automatically, but Phantom pulled himself back out before he could move closer.

“It looks right,” Phantom agreed, cautiously. “It feels right, too. But it’s hard to say. From what I’ve seen, this Amity Park looks just like mine, and I assume so do yours.”

“Yeah.” Manes shrugged, then. “We’ll just have to hope for the best, then. If this didn’t work we didn’t have any alternative plans anyway, so…”

Specter snorted. “That’s true, unfortunately.” She took her eyes off of the portal to look at Tucker—and at Sam and Danny, who had crept in closer. “Thanks for the hospitality, and,” she turned to shoot looks at Phantom and Manes, “thank all of you for the experience.”

“Yes, what she said,” Manes agreed, a smile creeping onto her face. “Thank you all for the help as well.”

Phantom nodded. “Yeah, uh. Sorry for causing this, probably? And thanks to uh, all of you.” He nodded again, this time to Tucker and his friends, then stepped towards his portal. And paused.

“Uh, maybe you two should leave first? I don’t want to risk yours closing if I’m gone.”

Manes clapped him on the shoulder, then, still smiling, stepped through her portal. The moment she was gone from their sight, the swirling green mass pulled together and disappeared like it had never been there at all.

“Good luck,” Specter wished Phantom, and then floated through her portal. Once more, it immediately closed behind her.

Phantom nodded at them. “Seriously. Sorry for the mess, and thanks.”

“Just go, dude.” Tucker waved, and with a grin, Phantom stepped through the last portal.

He waited for a few moments after the portal had closed. When no new portals popped up, he sighed, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over him. “Man, I really hope that worked out fine.”

“They’ll be fine,” Sam said, then nudged him. “They’ll have the help of their friends.”

Tucker hummed, then turned to Danny. “You got that, right?”

“Of course I got it,” Danny scoffed, shaking his head. “I’d be crazy not to. Yeah, I got it.”

Tucker nodded, then turned to look at the empty space again. The place where the other half-ghosts had just been.

“I really hope that nothing else crazy like this happens, because I really don’t think I can handle that.” He sighed. “And… I hope that they’re all okay.”

“I’m sure they will be.” Danny bumped his other shoulder, taking the opposite side of Sam. “Now come on, let’s get some sleep. You need it.”

“Wow,” Tucker mumbled back, already turning around again. “Hurtful.”

[ecto-american]

The Half-Dead Kids Club

Phic Phight Oneshot for bibliophilea: (AU) Tucker Ghouly was looking for a relaxing weekend with his boyfriend. Too bad the halfa versions of his boyfriend, his boyfriend's sister, and their other best friend crashed the party. [Danny/Tucker]

Also if you've read my Tucker Ghouly AU fic, this is set in the same universe/using the same logic and same eventual ship, and there is a spoiler for things I have planned for that fic too.

On FFN and AO3

-------------

Tucker sighed, doing a cheesy yawn and stretch as he put his hand over his boyfriend's shoulder. Danny rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to do that every time," he told him. Tucker grinned.

"Yeah, but you're a sucker for it," he replied.

"Can't argue with that," Danny agreed, returning the smile. "Your parents are gonna be out for a while, right?"

"Yeah, and Olivia's sleeping over at her friend's," Tucker replied. Danny's smile widened.

"Sooo…" he said slowly. He leaned in to kiss Tucker instead of finishing his sentence. Tucker happily leaned in too, only to stop when he felt that familiar electrical tingling in his head. He suddenly stood up. Danny stared before snapping to his feet too. "Ghost?"

Tucker nodded as he looked around, going ghost. Danny reached into his pocket for a screwdriver sized-handle, pressing a button that made it spring out into the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick (Mobile Version).

"Can you tell where it-AH!" Danny screamed as a semi-familiar figure came out of seemingly nowhere and crashed into the coffee table. Tucker also screamed, turning on his heel.

The figure was a motionless girl with short black hair, one of the sides of her head shaved to expose an ear with multiple piercings. She wore a dark purple sleeveless shirt and a black skirt, with purple and black tennis shoes. The girl was laying on the wooden pile of the now broken coffee table.

"Aw, man! My mom's gonna kill me!" Tucker cried out.

Danny took a few deep breaths, clutching his chest before nudging the girl with his foot. She groaned in pain. He squinted his eyes at her voice.

"...Sam?" Danny asked. He clicked the button, and the weapon folded back together.

"...Danny?" she moaned softly.

The couple immediately reached down to help her up, setting her on the couch.

"Sam! What happened?" Danny asked. He cupped a bruised cheek, taking note of what injuries she had. "I thought you were going to Florida with your grandma." Sam stared at him, confused.

"What? N-no. No, I….I'm sorry, but are you wearing eyeliner? It looks rad."

"...Yeah? I always wear eyeliner?" Danny said slowly. "How badly did you hit your head? And how did you get here?"

Tucker had watched everything silently, but now he had to say something.

"...This isn't our Sam, dude," he told him. Danny gave him a weird look, and Sam did too, only for her face to drop in surprise upon truly looking at him. "Our Sam would never shave her head." Danny glanced back at Sam, and he had to nod.

"...Yeah, my Tucker's not...glowing," she stated hesitantly. Tucker saw his hand, and he remembered that he was, in fact, still in ghost mode.

"Sorry," he apologized, and the rings formed, but he stopped as his senses went wild once more. Black mist escaped Sam's nostrils as well. "...Hold that thought."

"There's more?" Danny asked, standing up again. Fenton Anti-Creep Stick (Mobile Version) was once again sprung out.

"Whoa, sick!" Sam grinned. She got to her feet too, wobbingly a bit.

"You should rest, you took a nasty fall," Tucker insisted. He took her hands, causing her to flush a light red. Slowly but gently, he made her sit back down. He looked to Danny, leaning in to give him a quick peck. "Make sure she's okay, I'm gonna go investigate."

"Gotcha," Danny confirmed. Tucker jumped up, flying straight into the ceiling and out. Sam rubbed her upper arm anxiously.

"So...you and Tucker, huh?" she asked slowly. Danny nodded.

"Yeah, for a while now," he replied. He raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"No!" she said quickly. "No! Uh, just kinda...weird to see, if I'm being honest. Um...So by now I'm pretty sure I fell into some kind of natural ghost portal to where Tucker's half ghost, and you two are dating….but um...where I'm from, I'm kinda half ghost, and I'm kind of dating Tucker. So! Uh!" She coughed nervously. "Just kinda...not something I'm used to seeing."

"Oh. Ah. Um...I see." Danny shifted from foot to foot before sitting down next to her. "Um. That's uh. Heh. Kinda funny."

"He also goes for the goth look," she continued. "Like, uh, like you. So. Um." She clasped her hands together, resting them on her knee as she crossed her leg. "Just uh...kinda weird." She paused. "Kinda really weird."

"Uh...yeah."

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Danny glanced over to her, clearing his throat.

"...Our Sam's dating Paulina," he suddenly blurted out. Sam choked on nothing.

"I'm WHAT?"

-------------

Tucker flew out of his house, and he immediately found what was looking for. Two figures, talking as they floated in the sky. A girl with bright blue hair, in blue and white, and a boy with white hair, in black and white.

"Hey," Tucker called out to them. They turned to him, and they stared.

"We're peaceful!" the girl called out. The boy elbowed her in the ribs, making her yelp.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"Tucker Ghouly, and you two?"

"Tucker Ghouly…" the boy repeated slowly. He glanced between himself and the girl. "...Wait. Tucker? Is that you? It's me, Danny."

Tucker blinked in confusion as he stared. He squinted, and he could finally sorta see it. If he dyed the hair black, made it a bit longer, added the signature eyeliner...this dude kinda looked like his boyfriend. Though of course, his boyfriend was of course much cuter.

"Danny...Fenton?" he asked slowly. The boy, Danny, quickly made a cut it out motion.

"It's Danny Phantom," he replied.

"And Jazz Phantom!" the girl pipped up. Danny put his hand on her face, pushing her back a bit.

"We're not related," he informed him.

"We kinda are!"

"Do you know where we can talk? Like in private?" the boy asked. Tucker gestured to his house below them.

"Come on, my house should be good."

The two followed him into the living room, and Tucker glanced between his boyfriend and the Not-Sam. His boyfriend had moved to sit in an armchair while Sam was whining and complaining about something he couldn't quite make out, sprawled out dramatically on the couch.

"What did you do?" Tucker asked. Danny shrugged.

"Told her she was dating Paulina here," Danny said, and Sam let out a dramatic shrieking noise. He nodded at the two ghosts. "So why aren't we kicking butt?"

"So, if I'm guessing right," Tucker said slowly, finally turning to the two ghosts that had been just standing there awkwardly. "Ghostly portal nonsense happened, and now we have a bunch of half ghosts here."

"Wait, what?" Danny spoke up.

"I think what Tucker's saying is that me, that Danny, and." Sam sat up, pausing as she stared curiously at the other girl. She cocked her head. "Jazz?" she guessed. Jazz nodded. "Okay, and Jazz, are all half ghosts from another timeline. We need to get back."

"Yeah, and like. Soon. My parents and little sister are gonna be back by Sunday night, and I'm already hiding one half ghost, me." Tucker gestured up and down at himself. "From a Guys in White agent."

"Whoa! Wait, hold up!" the Not-Danny said, holding his hands up. "Your dad's a GIW agent?" Tucker sighed.

"Yeah. He was a cop, but right around the time of the accident he got hired on with them," he replied. "Is your dad one too?"

"No! They're ghost hunters! They run and operate FentonWorks!" Not-Danny grumbled. Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, my parents too," Danny spoke up. "Tucker got shocked when we were trying to troubleshoot it. We uh...we got it running."

Danny visibly sunk in his seat a bit. Tucker immediately turned human, walking over to the armchair. He sat on the arm, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and hugging him close. A reminder that it wasn't his fault.

"Yeah, I got shocked by Mom and Dad's portal too," Jazz finally spoke up. Since Tucker had gone human, she did too. She revealed herself to still be a redhead, wearing a light blue blouse and black jeans, with matching black flats. "My boyfriend, well at the time he was just my best friend, but Spike convinced me that I should check it out. So….I did."

"Spike?" Not-Danny echoed, staring at her weirdly. "Really?" Jazz nodded. "...Huh."

"Yeah, same," Sam nodded. She shifted to pull her legs to her chest. "I was trying to convince Danny to go into the portal, but he said if I was that curious, that I should just do it myself. So I got shocked to hell and back."

"Man, your dad's portal's really been fucking with us all," Tucker told Not-Danny. He made a bit of a face.

"Wait, are you two…?" Not-Danny finally asked. Tucker nodded, affectionately patting Danny's back.

"Yeah, for a bit now," he replied. Not-Danny stared for a moment, shaking his head.

"Kinda weird. I mean, just like, I'm dating Sam," he began, only for Sam to cut him off.

"God, I know right? I'm dating Tucker!" she exclaimed. "And he-"

"Sam looks a lot like me/him!" they somewhat finished the sentence together. Jazz snorted in amusement.

"Apparently halfas have a thing for goths," she joked. Everybody gave a small chuckle.

"But yeah, seriously, I need to get you all the hell out of here before my dad gets back," Tucker said. Sam frowned.

"How are we gonna do that?" she asked.

"Clockwork, duh," Jazz said, as if it was obvious. "We just go through the Fenton portal and find him. He'll put us back."

"Yeah, but um…" Danny paused. "My parents' portal is kinda...destroyed."

The other halfas immediately went into a frenzy of panic.

"WHAT?"

"How is that possible!?

"It's destroyed!? What!? How!?"

"Was it the ecto-filter? It was the ecto-filter wasn't it?

"What did you do!?"

"Hey, hey, hey! HEY!" Danny had to raise his voice to get everybody to settle down. "Look, they're still rebuilding from Uncle Nico destroying it. It's not going to be operational for another few months. I'm sorry."

"Uncle Nico?" Not-Danny echoed. "I don't have an Uncle Nico." Danny stared at him.

"Uh, you don't?" he questioned. "He works with Uncle Vlad?"

"Wait he's your Uncle Vlad!?" Not-Danny seemed to pale. Danny looked so confused.

"...Yeah? He's my godfather. My parents have known him since college, we have family vacations together. What's wrong with him?"

"He's a fruitloop!" Not-Danny nearly screamed, waving his arms dramatically. "He wants to marry my mom and kill my dad, and adopt me as his son!" He turned to Jazz. "Right?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have...absolutely no clue what you're talking about," she said slowly. "Uncle Vlad's great. He bought my brother a car for his sweet sixteen."

"I don't even know a Vlad," Sam agreed. Not-Danny looked like he was going to have a stroke.

"Okay, okay then," Not-Danny scowled. "So who's the old half-ghost asshole that roams around trying to ruin your life?" The other three halfas all went "ohhhh."

"Oh, that's Spectra," Jazz replied, as if it was obvious. "She went to college with my parents. She got hit by the portal and became ugly as well as half ghost, so now she basically makes my life a living hell cause she's mad that I like? Have potential or something? She's my principal, Ms. Penelope Spencer."

"Mrs. Fenton," Sam nodded. "No ghost name. Cause, uh. Well. She got hit by the portal in college and hates herself for being a half ghost. Wants me for experiments so she can cure herself. Reaaal awkward to have dinner over there."

"Danny's Uncle Nico, or Technomancer." Tucker jerked a thumb at his Danny. "Vlad's business partner that got shocked while trying to fix their portal, is now pissy cause he thinks he's better than humans cause he's got ghosts powers. Wants me to join him and be my mentor."

"Okay, so." Not-Danny rubbed his temple. "This is really fucking weird and messing with my head. Can I just go home?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure my parents will start to worry about me soon," Sam agreed, looking at her watch.

"Does your Uncle Nico have a portal?" Jazz wondered. Danny shook his head no.

"He makes his own portals " he said, pointing to his wrist. "It's programmed into his watch."

"We need to take it," Not-Danny blurted out. Everybody stared at him. "What!? It's the only way to get home, I can't be crazy for suggesting that!"

"Uh, I think he might be right," Sam hesitated. "But I mean. This is your guys' world." She nodded to the couple. "Are there any other portals around?"

"Um. No? Not that I know of?" Danny admitted. Tucker thought hard.

"...Would Paulina have one?" Tucker asked. Sam visibly jerked in surprise.

"Paulina? Why Paulina?" she demanded to know. Tucker flinched.

"I uh...kinda ruined her life. So Uncle Nico...sorta...kinda...um...gave her weapons to use against me." He gave a sheepish grin. Sam gawked at him.

"...Paulina. Paulina is the Green Hunter. I don't get it, like. At all."

"Uh, Pink Huntress," Danny corrected. "But yeah."

"Wait, who the fuck could the Green Hunter be?" Not-Danny spoke up.

"Yeah, isn't it supposed to be the Blue Hunter?" Jazz seemed confused.

"No! Red Huntress!" Not-Danny scowled.

"Red?" Jazz raised an eyebrow. "Who's Red?"

"Valerie Gray?" Not-Danny stated as if it was obvious. Jazz had to think hard.

"You mean Danny's friend? Like my brother Danny? I barely know her." She shook her head. "No, the Blue Hunter's Mikey."

"Mikey!?" Sam snorted in amusement. "Oh my god, Mikey. He's seriously your hunter?"

"You never told us who the Green Hunter was!" Not-Danny pointed out.

"Oh! It's Kwan!"

"Kwan!?" Not-Danny was in disbelief. "But he's so sickeningly nice!"

"Oh my fucking god, we're going to be here all weekend if you guys don't stop comparing timelines!" Danny snapped. All the halfas stared at him, a bit guilty. They all murmured some sort of apology.

"So...should we try Paulina?" Tucker asked. Danny sighed.

"We know she has one, it's how she directly puts ghosts back into the Ghost Zone. So it's just a matter of if we wanna challenge Paulina or if we wanna challenge Uncle Nico."

Go up against a half-ghost billionaire tech genius or a weaponized high school cheerleader?

They all stared at each other.

The half-ghost billionaire tech genius was way easier.

-------------

Plan was in motion.

Danny glanced over his shoulder to look at all the halfas hiding (somewhat badly) in a bush outside of Nico's house. He had his messenger bag on his other shoulder, and a big tupperware container on his hip.

"So he's basically Technus?" Not-Danny whispered. Jazz elbowed him. "OW!"

"SHH!" she hissed back.

Danny rang the doorbell, and everybody waited. A minute passed before the door opened, and the familiar black man with long braids opened the door. He was wearing his dark green shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

"Hey Uncle Nico!" Danny smiled. "Are you free? I've been really struggling with this robot." He used his free hand to pat the top of the tupperware container. "Can you help?"

Nico grinned warmly.

"Course kiddo!" he boomed excitedly. "Come on, come on!" He moved to the side to let the teenager in. Danny thanked him, and they both went inside. Even from the bushes, Tucker could hear the tech genius talking a mile a minute in his outside voice.

"Okay. Danny's gonna try and get Nico into a position where he'll take his watch off, and when that happens, I'll grab it," Tucker told the others. "You guys stay here, I'll go get it."

"We should come with you," Sam Specter replied, trying to take a step forward. Tucker put a hand out to stop her.

"No, you guys really need to stay out here. Nico's got one hell of a ghost system, and he's incredibly powerful to boot. I know how to slip around it, and it's a very delicate procedure," he explained.

"Shouldn't we stick together?" Jazz questioned. Tucker shook his head no.

"No, trust me on this."

"Are you sure?" Not-Danny asked. Tucker scowled.

"Just! Stay here!" he said. He floated towards the property, turning human on the front steps but phasing into the building.

The other three halfas stood around in a semi-circle, staring at each other. Sam broke the stare to look at the ground, lightly kicking at the dirt. Not-Danny sighed impatiently. Jazz looked up at the sky.

"It's just Technus," Sam spoke up.

"Yeah! He's so easy!" Not-Danny scoffed. "He literally shouts his plans all the time."

"I can beat him with one hand tied behind my back!" Jazz agreed.

"So we'll just go in and strongarm it from him, kick butt, and go!" Not-Danny reasoned. Sam smirked.

"Yeah, of course! We'll just speed up the ass-kicking!" she said, punching her fist into her palm confidently.

"Tucker doesn't know what he's talking about," Jazz smiled.

-------------

All four halfas were spread out in Tucker's living room. Tucker was on the couch, arm over his stomach as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Sam was face first on the floor, grumbling in pain. Jazz was curled up next to the armchair, on and off grumbling about chest pains. Not-Danny was in said armchair, mirroring his not-sister by being curled up and holding his head.

Danny came into the living room, balancing three pizzas on one hand with four sodas underneath his other arm. He frowned at the three strange halfas.

"Tucker and I told you to stay outside," he rubbed it in. Not-Danny groaned.

"Man, we get it," he complained. Danny rolled his eyes, setting the food on the impromptu coffee table made up of Amazon boxes.

"Well I hope so, cause now we gotta go through Paulina," he replied. He glanced over to Sam. "So hope you're ready to go on a date, Sam."

"Wait, what?" Sam pulled her face up to look at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I am. It's the only way to get her guard down so that Tucker can get her watch so we can find Clockwork and send you guys home." Danny frowned at her. "I'm pretty sure I can make you look like our Sam. Olivia may have a cosplay wig you can borrow, so she won't question why her girlfriend suddenly shaved and somehow unshaved her head. You're going to be the only one who can convince her to take that watch off."

"How on Earth am I supposed to do that?" Sam frowned, rolling onto her back. Danny threw his hands up in the air.

"Figure it out," he scowled. "You guys got yourselves into this mess! We don't have to help you, you know." Sam made a face at him. Tucker reached up to grab Danny's hand.

"Babe, chill. They were just trying to help," Tucker sighed. Danny exhaled too, squeezing his hand.

"We warned them that Technomancer was dangerous," he frowned.

"What's done is done, let's just focus on Paulina."

"...You're right."

Tucker smiled at him, and Danny gave a half-smile back. He let go of Tucker's hand to open the top pizza box.

"Alright, who wanted what?"

-------------

That next morning, Tucker nearly forgot that he had three other random halfas crash that night in his living room. Jazz and Danny had decided that they could tolerate sleeping on the queen sized pull out sofa together with their not-sibling, leaving Sam free to have the twin air mattress to herself.

He didn't wake them up when he saw them though, instead silently making his way towards his kitchen to get himself a bowl of cereal. Not too long afterwards, he heard Danny come down the stairs and come into the kitchen too.

"Hey," he greeted warmly. Tucker smiled, feeling his stomach flutter a bit.

"Hey, morning," he replied. He held up his box of cereal. "Want some?" Danny shook his head no.

"Nah, I'm gonna raid your poptarts," he replied. He opened the cabinet for them, fishing a packet out to unwrap and toss into the toaster. "When Sam wakes up, we need her to call Paulina and invite her out somewhere."

"But we need to take her someplace where she'll not wear that watch," Tucker mused, opening his fridge for milk. He poured some into his bowl. "She wears it everywhere though. How's she going to get Paulina to take it off?"

"That's why we emphasised so fucking hard to them the other day that Uncle Nico was the better option," Danny grumbled.

"Hey, it's okay," Tucker tried to sooth.

"No it's not," Danny insisted. "They wouldn't listen to us!" Tucker put the milk away. "They said it ourselves, that this is our timeline, and we know our timeline, and we know our rivals. So why did they just ignore everything we said about how powerful and dangerous Technomancer is? It's frustrating, it kinda pisses me off still.

"It's okay," Tucker repeated. He took a step forward to be closer to his boyfriend. "They made a mistake. Our timelines are so similar that they probably just underestimated him. Especially if he's supposedly such a joke in theirs." Danny let out an annoyed huff. Tucker cupped his cheek. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

"...I know, just." He paused, sounding emotionally exhausted. "They should have listened."

"They'll listen now," Tucker smiled. Danny couldn't help but give a small smile back. "We'll likely be able to get them home by dinner at the latest, and we can go out."

"I guess…" Danny took a deep breath. Tucker leaned in and gave him a kiss, and he could feel Danny finally relax.

"Oh, whoa. Um. Sorry," Sam's voice made Danny tense up again, and the couple pulled away from each other. Sam was staring at them, standing awkwardly in the kitchen entrance, looking a bit flushed. "I was uh. Hungry. Um. Sorry, just that you look so much like my Danny and Tucker, and the whole um. Yeah. I'll just..." She reached for the sole remaining pizza box, quickly opening it and grabbing a leftover slice and hurrying out of the kitchen. Danny huffed again.

"This is our timeline," he grumbled, his frustrations turning into inaudible mutters. The toaster popped, making them both briefly jump. He grabbed his poptarts, and Tucker collected his bowl and a spoon. The couple went into the living room.

Not-Danny and Jazz were both awake by now, sitting cross legged on the pull out bed as Sam sat in the armchair.

"Okay," Danny began as he stepped into the living room. He pointed to Sam with his poptart. "You can use my phone to call Paulina and ask her to meet you today." Sam looked physically pained at the idea.

"Do I have to?" Sam whined. Danny frowned, taking a bite of his poptart.

"If, uh, other me, is right, you're the only one who's going to be able to convince her," Not-Danny spoke up. Jazz nodded in agreement. Sam dramatically slammed her head against the cushiony back of the armchair.

"...Fine." She held her hand out, and Danny pulled his cell phone out, pulling up Paulina's number. He put it in her hand, and Sam stared at the contact. She took a deep breath before pressing the call button. After a few rings, somebody picked the phone up.

"Um? Danny?" Paulina sounded confused. Sam gave a pained grimace.

"Hey...uh...baby?" Danny waved his poptart in the air in a what the fuck motion. Sam mirrored it back to him.

"...Sam? Is that you? I thought you were in Florida with your grandma this weekend? Why are you calling from Danny's phone."

"Um. No? I lost my phone," she awkwardly replied. Danny motioned for her to keep talking. "Uh, hey! Wanna meet up today?"

"Sure! Do you wanna go mall cruising?" Paulina asked.

"Uh yeah! Sounds fun! How about?" Sam paused to glance at the wall clock. "Say in an hour?"

"Sounds perfect! I can't wait to see you!"

"You...too." Everybody could tell that it took everything for Sam to force that sentence out. "Goodbye. I miss you."

"Byebye!"

Sam hung up the phone, handing it back to Danny. He was frowning at her.

"That was terrible," he told her. Sam scowled. "Come on. We need to get you looking like our Sam."

-------------

"Ugh, why is there so much hair?" Sam complained. She pulled on the wig to adjust it some. Apparently the Sam here had long hair, and it felt so heavy. And this outfit was so...nerdy. This was going to be a terrible day.

"Stop pulling on it!" Danny hissed. "We can't afford to blow this twice."

"Here," Tucker spoke up. He handed her a watch. "Just try and switch the watches if you can." Sam hesitantly took it. She turned it over in her hand.

"Once you switch, give us some kind of signal," Not-Danny added.

"And we'll make a distraction," Jazz chimed in.

"Won't she notice if I switch it then?" Sam asked. Danny shook his head no.

"No, her bracelet is her ghost hunting gear, the watch is just a portal device."

Sam glanced between all of them worriedly as she pocketed the device.

"You got this," Tucker smiled. She reluctantly nodded.

"Pink Huntress, coming right for us," Danny said, nodding ahead of them as he lightly slapped Tucker with the back of his hand. Not-Danny and Jazz immediately rushed away.

"Good luck!" Tucker whispered to her as he and Danny grabbed each other's hand, quickly walking off to pretend that they just happened to be having their own date out at the mall.

Sam smiled weakly as Paulina bounced up to her. She wasn't in the dark pink and black attire Sam was used to, but a long sleeved light pink shirt with white shorts, hair pulled back in a long french braid.

"Hey!" Paulina greeted her warmly. Sam forced a bigger smile.

"Hey!" she replied.

"Where do you wanna go first?" Paulina asked, immediately reaching to grab Sam's hand. The halfa flinched at first, jerking away before quickly remembering, and she took Paulina's hand. The huntress raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on it.

"Uh, wherever you wanna go!" Sam replied lightly.

"Hmm," Paulina lightly mused. "How about Sephora?"

"Uh, sure," Sam agreed.

Thankfully Paulina was still chatty, and so Sam wasn't forced to make conversation, but simply just listen as Paulina talked on the walk towards the store. She mostly talked about her Starbucks job, since she had apparently come straight from there to the mall. Sam couldn't imagine her own Paulina actually working at all, but she guessed it seemed to make sense that this Paulina did. Sam kinda...fucked Kwan over, even though it was unintentional, and he had to take up a part time job at the Skulk N Lurk because of it.

The store came up, and Paulina broke away from Sam to excitedly hurry in.

"Ooo, Sam! Look!" She smiled, pointing out a display of bright pastels, primarily warm tones. "These are so pretty!" Paulina opened the display palette, looking at the colors. Sam came up next to her, studying the colors.

"Oh wow, those look so pretty," Sam had to admit.

"Yeah, but I don't know if they'd look too good on me," Paulina mused. She took the test brush, and she applied the color to her inner arm. Sam watched, and the idea hit her.

"...Hey, Paulina? Do you wanna take your watch off so you don't get makeup on it?" Sam questioned. Paulina glanced at it, thinking for a minute before nodding.

"Yeah, probably a good idea," she agreed. She slipped it off, handing it to Sam. "Can you hold it for a moment?"

"Of course!" Sam smiled. She accepted it.

Paulina returned her attention to the sample palette, and she began to swatch her arm with it. Heart pounding, Sam quickly made the exchange, putting the real one in her pocket and holding the fake one while Paulina was distracted. She glanced over to see Danny a few isles over, watching her from the corner of his eye as he looked at makeup. She gave a small nod. Danny gave a short nod back, and she saw him exit the store.

Sam returned her attention fully to her

A small beeping came from Paulina, and Sam raised an eyebrow at her. It was still...weird to think of her mortal enemy as being the hunter-er, huntress. Paulina glanced around worriedly.

"Uh, hey Sam? I totally forgot, my papa-," she began, pulling her phone out. Sam could see that obviously, nobody was calling, but she nodded anyway.

"Oh, don't worry! Go on, I understand!" she said. Paulina smiled in relief. Sam held up the fake watch. "Don't forget this!"

"Oh, right!" Paulina used one of the free wet wipes, quickly wiping the swatches off before putting the watch back on. "Thanks! You're the best!" she chirped. "Call me when you find your phone!"

Paulina exited the store in a hurry, and Sam followed. She saw her already near the exit of the mall, opening the door and leaving. The halfa jumped when a hand rested on her shoulder. She turned to see Danny.

"Hey, you get it?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.

"I gave you the signal, didn't I?" she said. She reached into her pocket to pull the watch out. Danny plucked it from her fingers, turning it over. He sighed in relief.

"This is it," he confirmed. "The other Danny and Jazz went to wait for us outside. Tucker's making a distraction, and once he's done, we'll finally get you guys home."

A rush of air blew hit them as Tucker Ghouly flew by. A feminine figure in pink, riding a skateboard style hoverboard, was close on his heels.

"...Assuming Paulina doesn't finally get him."

-------------

"I'm so glad that's over," Danny sighed as they plopped onto Tucker's couch. Tucker gave a small hum. Luckily it took no time to find Clockwork and send everybody home.

"Yeah. Just gotta figure out what to do about this," he mused, pushing the Amazon box coffee table with his food. Danny waved it off.

"We can go to Ikea tomorrow," he replied. He held his hand out for Tucker to take, and the halfa immediately did.

"We also need to call Sam and let her know what we did in case Paulina asks," Tucker said. Danny grumbled tiredly.

"...We'll call her in a bit," he promised him.

"At some point we need to find a way to slip that bracelet back to Paulina."

"Problem for another day."

They sat in silence for a bit. Just resting. Just chilling, until Danny finally spoke up again. "...you know what's kinda cool?" Tucker brushed his thumb over the back of Danny's hand, giving a curious hum in response. "...It's kinda nice to know that it's seemingly meant to be. You know. Us. Halfas and goths getting together." Tucker grinned.

"Yeah, that is kinda nice," he agreed. He let go of Danny hand to stand up. "Come on. I promised you some food."

"Finally."

[dragonsdomain]

Christmas Wish

“Who brought a human kid on the sleigh?” Ember asked with a tinge of annoyance.

@floating-pisces here’s your Christmas Truce gift! Sorry to keep you waiting! I went with your prompt “dp villains” and wrote this one-shot, which is set immediately after the episode “The Fright Before Christmas” and inspired by a certain strange thing we see in our last glimpse of the ghosts’ sleigh. I hope you like it!

“I still don’t understand why you wanted the sleigh.” Johnny 13 glanced up at the red and white accessory on his head. “Or the Santa hats.”

Kitty turned to Johnny, looking playfully offended. “Well, if we’re going to be granting kids’ Christmas wishes, we’ve got to do it in style! Flying around, delivering people’s presents? It’s like we’re Santa’s elves!”

Johnny’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Whatever you say, babe.” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Ew! Gross!” Youngblood said, holding his hands in front of himself as if to ward off the impending mushiness.

The skeleton parrot on Youngblood’s shoulder sighed in exasperation. “At least follow that with a threat like ‘Cleave him to the brisket’.”

“Cleave ‘im to the brisket!” Youngblood commanded, waving his hook in the air. He looked suddenly doubtful. “What does ‘Cleave ‘im to the brisket’ mean?”

Desiree chimed in helpfully, “It means-”

Kitty slapped a hand over her mouth. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

There was a moment of silence. Perhaps some of the ghosts were using it to reflect on the lightness of heart each felt after helping Danny that night and to ponder the joy of service. Some may have even decided to change their troublesome ways if that moment had not been interrupted. “Who brought a human kid on the sleigh?” Ember asked with a tinge of annoyance.

Ember’s comment caused the majority of the sleigh’s inhabitants to stare in bewilderment at a small human child who was inexplicably in the back of the flying sleigh with the ghosts. The boy looked bashful under the scrutiny.

The Box Ghost was the first to speak. “Who is this human in our Christmas box of flight?”

The boy perked up. “My name’s Jimmy. I’m four!” He did indeed look like a four-year-old. He was short and chubby, with a smattering of freckles across his face. A disheveled mop of blonde hair was covered by a Santa hat not unlike the ones the ghosts wore.

“What are you doing here, child?” Skulker questioned, raising a mechanical eyebrow.

“I wanted to go outside and see the ghosts, but Mama wouldn’t let me go outside because it’s dark out,” Jimmy pouted. “And I was wishing I could go outside and see the ghosts, and then I was here!”

All eyes turned to Desiree.

“What?” She said defensively. “You know I can’t resist granting wishes!”

“This is so cool! You're all so cool!” Jimmy said, “I get to meet the bad guys Danny Phantom fights!”

“‘Bad guys’?!” Repeated Pointdexter, sounding offended.

“Sweetie,” Spectra began in the honeyed tone she tended to use with children, “You have to go home. Your mommie’s probably worried about you.” That wasn’t the real reason she wanted him gone of course. She couldn’t care less about how his mommie felt.

Jimmy’s face fell. “I wish I could stay here with you guys...” he confided to the floor of the sleigh.

Desiree chimed in immediately, magic leaping to her fingers, “Your wish is my-”

“The truce.” Bertram reminded her.

Desiree deflated.

The Lunch Lady frowned at Jimmy’s sadness. “It would make him so happy.” She remarked to her fellow passengers.

“It would mean so much to him, and cost us so little.” Desiree said.

“Plus, it’s Christmas!” Ember added, “We should let the kid have a little adventure.”

“Yeah!” Youngblood added with an admiring glance at Ember.

“Would it really be so bad to bring him along?” Kitty looked around the sleigh imploringly.

Johnny looked conflicted. “But babe… we already worked so hard tonight to help that Phantom kid.”

Kitty rolled her eyes at him. “That took ten minutes tops.”

“But Spectra’s right!” Pointexter protested, while the aforementioned ghost looked surprised someone was actually taking her comment seriously. “Jimmy’s mother is probably worried about him.”

“She’ll be fine.” Ember said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll have the kid back before morning.”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine!” Youngblood added helpfully.

“I do suppose it wouldn’t cost us much,” Skulker said thoughtfully, who may or may not have been swayed by Ember’s opinion. “I’m all right with the boy coming along, as long as he promises not to cause trouble.” He looked questioningly at Jimmy.

The boy was sitting there with an amazed expression as if this seemed all too good to be true. At Skulker’s implied inquiry he jumped to his feet and testified “I promise I’ll be super good! I’ll be so good. I’ll be as good as Danny Phantom!” He said, with such sincerity that all present almost believed Phantom was the flawless angel of kindness Jimmy seemed to think him. Whatever the case, Jimmy’s conviction to not be a bother was clear. Any uncertainty that might have remained was rapidly squelched by Technus, who felt the need to clarify what every ghost present had already realized.

“While we, being his enemies, do not fully agree with your view of the ghost child, your promise to behave is well appreciated,” Technus decreed.

“If that is the case, we shall gladly welcome you to our portable box of Christmas cheer!” The Box Ghost said, receiving an approving nod from the Lunch Lady.

Aside from a grumble from Spectra, who was still unenthused about the concept of toting a child around with them for any period of time, as well as a hesitant Johnny, who needed a little persuasion from his girlfriend which was tactfully shielded from Youngblood by Johnny’s shadow, it was agreed unanimously that they would bring Jimmy along for their Christmas festivities, at least for a little while.

“Are we there yet?” Youngblood asked, before scarcely a minute had passed.

“No,” Responded the undead bird on his shoulder.

The Box Ghost, who was steering the sleigh, was driving it in circles above Fentonworks, high enough to be safe from ghost-hunting weapons, but low enough to have a good view of the conspicuous house, not that that was particularly difficult. The Fenton portal to the Ghost Zone, their best way to return home, was within that house, which was unfortunately closed off from the ghosts in the sleigh by a shining green ghost shield.

“It seems we shall have to wait until the shield comes down before we can return to the Ghost Zone as well as our usual Christmas festivities,” remarked Technus, to a sleigh full of ghosts who were already thinking the same thing.

The only one who would have benefited from this remark, Jimmy, was currently being distracted by Spectra, who had immediately decided to take advantage of her current situation. She usually worked with teens, not four-year-olds, but she’d been sure it wouldn’t be much different with younger children. She was mistaken.

“Are you afraid of your parents fighting?” Spectra asked.

Jimmy seemed ecstatic at this idea. “They should fight with swords!”

That wasn’t going to work. Spectra tried something else: “Are you afraid of monsters?”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Like bad ghosts?”

Spectra nodded, an eager smile on her face, wide enough to expose a good number of fangs. “That’s right, like bad ghosts.”

The boy assumed a solemn expression. “Danny Phantom will fight the bad ghosts.” He shook his little fist for emphasis.

Spectra groped, “Danny Phantom won’t always be there to fight the ghosts, you know.” 

“Yes, he will.” Jimmy said, with enough stubbornness to remind Spectra that he could and would spend the entire night arguing his point with that exact same sentence if he had to.

“Honey, the truce.” Bertram reminded her.

Spectra sighed. “Desiree, I wish we were at the Fenton portal.”

Johnny sat up. “Wait, I thought we were-”

“Your wish is my command!” and suddenly they found themselves flying through the portal into the Ghost Zone.

Jimmy let out a long gasp as they flew through the portal into the green expanse. He clung to the arm of Ember, who was lucky enough to be sitting next to him, as he looked around himself in awe.

“Cool, right? It’s the Ghost Zone.” Ember commented.

“Cool.” Jimmy repeated, drawing out the word well past its usual length. “Does Danny Phantom live here?”

Ember rolled her eyes at the boy’s incessant admiration of the halfa. “‘Course not. He’s a human. He lives in Amity Park.”

“Uh huh.” Youngblood confirmed.

Jimmy frowned and knitted his eyebrows. “No, he’s not. He’s a ghost.”

Ember smirked and shrugged. “Whatever you say, kid.”

They flew along quietly for a little while, aside from Youngblood periodically asking “Are we there yet?” with a long-suffering look on his face, to which the answer was always a blunt “No,” from his skeleton assistant. Jimmy gazed in fascination at the simple green blob ghosts floating about them until he got bored and started pantomiming a gun shooting them. “Pew pew. Pew.”

This drew Skulker’s attention to the boy. “Child, what are you doing?”

Jimmy looked up. “I’m shooting the little ghosts!”

Skulker scoffed. “If you want to join in the hunt, you’ll need a weapon.” He pulled a vicious-looking gun out from somewhere and held it out to the boy, who reached out to take it reverently.

“The truce.” Bertram barked.

Skulker grimaced as he reluctantly took back the gun. He patted Jimmy’s head in approval. “You’ll make a fine hunter one day.”

“Are we there yet?” Youngblood groaned, tugging on the Box Ghost’s shirt sleeve.

“Just like I’ve told you a half dozen times,” His parrot began. “No, we are- oh.”

Because at long last they were there. Before them stood the pavilion where the Christmas festivities for this group of ghosts were to be held, the doors hanging welcomingly open with glittering decorations of a plethora of colors visible through the door.

“At last! We have finally returned to the celebration!” Technus said.

“Thank you, Technus.” Spectra said sarcastically.

Jimmy eyed the banquet laid out on a table in the back of the room. His eyes landed on a bowl of peppermints. He tugged on the Lunch Lady’s sleeve. “Can I have some candy?”

She looked down at him in concern. “Oh, sweetie. You know we can’t have dessert before dinner! We need to eat the healthy food first.”

“I already ate my dinner!” Jimmy declared quickly.

Whether or not that was true, it did the trick. “Well all right then honey. Let’s get you some dessert.” The Lunch Lady looked pleased. “Good job eating your dinner!”

And so it was that Jimmy was found only a few minutes later with his cheeks crammed full of peppermints, likewise his pockets and his hands. A sparse trail of dropped peppermints was also left in his wake, having fallen out of hands and pockets that had been overenthusiastically filled. The Lunch Lady seemed to be enjoying Jimmy’s treat as much as he was, she was so filled with satisfaction about the healthy meal Jimmy had surely eaten, and which definitely hadn’t been stubbornly left on the table despite being declared by his mother an obstacle between him and going outside.

As Jimmy proceeded with his sugary feast, Walker entered the building. “The prisoner has been detained.” He said as he straightened his hat.

Pointdexter looked up. “Ghostwriter?”

“That’s right, son,” Walker said.

Pointdexter nodded, glaring at the wall. “Serves him right for using his powers to bully someone like that.”

Walker’s eyes, which had been scanning the room, landed on Jimmy, who was currently discovering a collection of discarded cardboard boxes, which were sitting in a corner after being emptied of Christmas decorations.

“Who’s this little one?” Walker asked.

Pointdexter followed Walker’s eyes to Jimmy before answering, “He wanted so badly to see us ghosts as we were going around helping fix Christmas, but his mother wouldn’t let him come outside.”

Walker’s eyes narrowed. “His mother is his legal guardian. Disobeying her is against the rul-”

“I am the Box Dragon!” A voice at Walker’s feet bellowed.

He looked down to see a large cardboard box with legs standing before him. The box’s corner bumped against Walker’s legs as grunting and growling sounds came from within the box. Now not many people know this - it’s a very closely guarded secret - but Walker has a soft spot for small children. And frankly, this behavior was too adorable for him to handle. His heart melted, and all thoughts of broken rules and sending the child home vanished from his mind. All this happened in an instant, and thankfully Walker was self-possessed enough to show absolutely no sign of this in his countenance.

However, the prison warden was not the only one who’s attention was drawn by Jimmy’s antics. Across the room, the Box Ghost’s face had slowly lit up with astonishment, then morphed into ecstasy. He flew quickly across the room to Jimmy’s side. “Box Dragon! It is an honor to make your acquaintance!” He stuck a hand under the box to heartily shake the small hand of its occupant. “It is always a pleasure to meet one who shares my appreciation of these fine cardboard squares! Perhaps you and I, united in our love of boxes, could prove formidable in combat against our foes!”

“The truce,” Walker said in unison with Bertram, who had somehow known this statement was called for despite being halfway across the room.

“Oh, right,” the Box Ghost relented. He quickly perked up again, gripping Jimmy’s hand and pointing dramatically. “Then let us return to the corner where I have placed many boxes and we shall gather a cardboard army!”

However, a yawn sounded from underneath the box and the small hand held in the Box Ghost’s blue one seemed to lose some of its enthusiasm. “I’m sleepy…” Jimmy mumbled, pushing the cardboard box off of himself.

Kitty, who just happened to be nearby, snapped her head around at the quiet statement, as if it had been as loud and attention-grabbing as a fire alarm. She dropped a slightly confused Johnny’s hand (he hadn’t been astute enough to hear Jimmy’s last sentence,) and rushed to kneel at the young boy’s side.

She let Jimmy slump onto her shoulder as she asked “Do you want to go home, honey?” With all the tenderness of a mother.

“Mmhm…” Came the barely audible reply, with Jimmy seeming to be seconds away from falling asleep on Kitty’s shoulder.

She gently stood up and turned to her boyfriend, who had been left to shadow her curiously. “Can you take him home on your motorcycle?” She whispered.

“Uh, okay.” Said Johnny uncertainly. Kitty gently handed over the boy to Johnny, who held him as awkwardly as though he’d never carried a child before and had no idea where to put what. He did his best though and managed to transport Jimmy to his motorcycle and situate him in a fairly safe-looking position.

The ghosts at the party gathered to see the boy off. He was thankfully just awake enough to receive the goodbyes most present eagerly began to give him.

“If you ever need anything, just say the words, and your wish is my command,” Desiree told him with a kiss.

“Always be nice to people. Don’t be a jerk.” Pointdexter advised quickly.

“Follow your dreams, kid!” Ember said.

“Yeah, do that!” Youngblood agreed with Ember readily.

“Eat well!”

“Be sure and stay on the right side of the law.”

“Always remember the power of technology, I, Technus, included-”

“May you always find nice boxes!”

Walker repositioned the now-sleeping Jimmy into a slightly safer position as he said to Johnny, “Don’t test my patience. You better not break the speed limit again.”

Johnny revved up the engine and responded, “Dude, there’s no speed limit in the Ghost Zone. You made that up.”

As Johnny drove off to deliver the child home (no one realized until later that he didn’t know where Jimmy’s house was), there was a moment of silence. Perhaps some of the ghosts were using it to ponder the night they had just had. How their small acts of kindness towards Jimmy had filled him with such glee. How somehow, despite having seemingly gained nothing from the experience, each felt happier, more contented, lighter inside even than a ghost with the power to levitate usually felt. Perhaps they were drawing near to a change of heart, or at the very least a change of obsession, that might allow them to experience the bliss of helping others on a more regular basis. Perhaps some of them would have even reached it if that moment of silence had not been interrupted.

“Let’s never do that again.” Spectra moaned.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 27: Cloud - Rainfall Skies

Rain is a wonderful thing and there’s a certain wonderful magic about it. Especially for those who need a little water to rejuvenate their heart, soul, and mind. Danny loves the rain.

Danny walks with his head tilted skyward, letting the rain splash and bounce off his face. It was a nice feeling and it made the world around him smell clean and clear. Sure there was the faint hint of lime from all the ectoplasm contaminated water that’s evaporated up into the thick swirling clouds, but he finds he doesn’t particularly mind nor care. If anything it made the rain all the sweeter, making it a more vibrant gem-like blue and the droplets taste like sugar water on his tongue.

He liked the rain, it never rained in the Ghost Zone and ghosts would instinctively go intangible to let earths rain simply pass through their bodies. He always suppressed that urge and impulse.

Stopping at a stoplight and staring up unblinking, the water getting in his eyes hardly bothers him. In fact, he hardly notices in the slightest. Staring up, it can almost be like the world around him has fallen away, leaving just him and the patter of the rain. The clouds move slowly, sluggishly, almost as if still. He finds he appreciates the lack of wind. Rain is better when it’s just rain, no thunder nor lightning nor wind. Just rain in its purest simplest form. Unchanged and consistently pattering down; and the clouds are dark enough that it gives off the illusion of nighttime, he can almost imagine the stars beyond the dark heavy cover of clouds. Like the stars are just resting on top of the clouds as if they’re a mattress.

Shaking his head and looking to the ground as the streetlight beeps signalling it’s time to cross, watching his old worn-out shoes splash into the small vibrating puddles. Watching the neon green drip off him and dilute into those puddles. He knows the rain’s not doing much to clean him off, he can’t say he really cares. Instead, he’s just enjoying the heavy feeling of being soaked to the bone. The rain lets him imagine that it’s only water to blame for that wetness.

He knows many people like to say that rain is the sky crying, in a way he understands how and why the sky might cry for him. But he likes to think the sky is laughing and dancing so much it can’t help but splatter some of its water down. Chuckling as he jumps a bit to splash in a puddle, twirling around and sticking out his arms. Rain was a happy thing, made the world feel like it was lost in time. Like the whole world was content to just lose itself for a while in the feeling of clean water and the music it makes upon the ground.

Spinning a bit more before deciding to walk backwards and watch the sky some more, humming a soft tune, “the rain falls gently above our heads, reminding us that we aren’t dead”. And that, that probably says a lot about how he feels.

It only rained in the land of the living, and he was part of it. The rain was his to experience and to experience with the rest of humanity. The rain danced and sang with life, a gift of the clouds. And it danced and bounced and soaked his skin without fail, like it was telling him he was just as alive and deserving of the thing that kept the earth alive and growing. Nothing could live without water after all, not even him.

Cupping his hands to pool some of the rain, watching it slowly build up and faintly reflect him back at himself. Green-tinted water dripping from his hair into the puddle forming, ah he should at least attempt to get clean. Once he feels he’s built up enough he splashes it on his face. Shaking his hands off and hair side to side, he doesn’t need to look to see the green splattering the ground like it was part of the rain itself. At least the green wasn’t his own, mostly.

Some ghosts were just vicious and required viciousness in return. He appreciates the cleansing rain as a reprieve from that. Something to clean him inside and out. Left him with the feeling of contentment and whimsy. Even a bit of a feeling of a complete lack of feeling. As if his mind and body were still, fresh, and without care. It was nice when he spent so much of his time and energy caring and hurting and fighting. And the rain kept the ghosts away, none wanting to fight in the pouring down water. It really was a reprieve from everything. Rain washed away cares or worries, washed away time and space, washed away sounds and aches. It was nice. It was comfy. It was freedom in a way.

Though he knows he has to go home soon. He finds he can’t bring himself to mind that. He’ll get there. Eventually. In the meantime, the rain will wash away what of the red and green it can, the overworked muscles and broken bones, clean out the cuts and scrapes. And when he gets where he’s going, maybe all they’ll see is the son soaked wet to the bone and not the soldier returning home from the battlefield. For now, he tilts his head back and opens his mouth. Smiling almost child-like and playfully at the gurgling pattering sounds that makes inside his throat. Like catching snowflakes on his tongue, it made him feel young and new like a young babe; in a way the stars just couldn’t anymore. As those stars carried thoughts of the childhood dream that was so very far out of reach. The stars hurt like they were as sharp as they looked on a clear night sky sometimes, the rain was always soft and whipped away everything else. He was a canvas freshly painted red and green, the rainwater splashing it off before its had a chance to dry. The canvas still gets stained of course, but it feels less permanent and noticeable. Like the sky is telling him ‘hey, you have the chance to paint yourself with more colours than just the blood of the living and dead’. That was something of a lie of course, but the rain made him believe it for a while. And that was as strong and heavy a support as the rain made his clothing feel.

Plus, if you have to cry then do it in the rain, no one will notice. Maybe not even you.

His body doesn’t feel in the mood for that though, too tired and worn to muster that kind of effort. Crying was heavy and hard, dancing and splashing was light as air. He twirls a little more, soaked fabric slapping against his scarred torso; not that he notices. The rain made the gouged in ones feel filled in again. The raised jagged ones, smooth. Any discolouration simply no longer mattered, the sun may show them bright but the rain blurs. It is sweet and he is alright.

Everything is alright.

Right here. Right now. Because the rain is free and sweet and gentle and everything. Releasing its wet weight upon the world and making his drip off him in kind. Weight those clouds have gained from all the earthly water it’s taken in. Water with all its pollutants and spilled blood and swimming life and long drowned dead. No different than him. A little halfa absorbing the world’s violence and intolerance and hatred and pain. The clouds sending down their cleaned refreshing rains, though tainted too. Just like the hope he hopes he splashes onto others.

Stopping in front of his house and staring at the sign, sticking his hands in his pockets and forcing back up his guards and paranoias. Yet still, even the harsh sign that lit up his strange home was seen softened by the rain. Making it seem more as if it glowed faintly rather than shone brightly. It felt more like returning to a comforting cup of hot chocolate from that brand you grew up with, rather than the place of cold scientific minds and where he and his dreams died.

He sends a small fleeting look to the rain thick clouds, wishing he could stay bathed in them for longer. But time, though it feels unreal in the presence of rain, waits for no man. Especially not him.

Pushing in the door, he’s hardly surprised to be met with his mother's only vaguely shocked words, “Danny, you’re soaked and why are you dripping slightly green”. Like usual, she doesn’t sound like she expects an answer from him.

He shrugs loosely, the rains calm still sticking with him, “rain. Ghost rain”, might as well take a bit more of a reprieve from the rain and pass the blame in a sense. She hums and doesn’t question him as he waves and heads up to his room.

Stripping off his soaked clothes and watching the rain patter against the window and fall through the air to hit the ground below. It’s muffled and less real this way, but it’s still nice.

It’s nice too, hearing the rain tinking on the roof as he showers. The waterfall of a shower was always artificial in a way that the rain simply didn’t even know how to be. He chooses to lay naked on the floor and just listen for a while before getting up to head to bed. Where he’ll wrap himself in blankets stained faintly green and red and lay his head down on a pillow too old to give much support or comfort. He’ll watch the rain fall through the window, watch it pool a little in the cracks and on the ledge. And then he’ll sleep, and it’ll be sun in the morning and he’ll struggle through school and fight another fight, as if tonight and it’s rain never happened.

It’s alright.

He’s alright.

He doesn’t mind.

There’ll be rain again some other day. Some other time. He’ll rest again then.

End.

[oldsilverblood5]

Family

Clockwork kept the growing smile to himself, trying not to give any reaction that he knew she was there. The young halfa crept closer, still invisible as if that would do any good. When she was but a metre away, Clockwork decided to break the silence.

“No, Danielle. They are not here yet.”

Danielle huffed as she dropped the invisibility and landed on the floor with a soft thud. “I thought I almost had you that time.” She mumbled to herself.

Clockwork chuckled again, his amusement making Danielle blush. “So, when are they gonna be here?” She asked, changing the subject.

The Ghost of Time turned from his screens and gestured towards the door as he started floating towards it. “Very shortly. We should go downstairs and prepare to greet them.”

The halfa’s eyes lit up with her body and she flew out the door and towards the stairs. Ever since they’d found a way to safely and permanently stabilise her, Danielle had been alternating between bouts of energy where she used her powers non-stop, and moments of continued wariness from the past. Today, it was the former, mostly due to the fact that she was excited to see her siblings.

Daniel and Jasmine didn’t visit as often as they would like. They tried to come every weekend, but with their busy lives it was more like every second weekend. Though Danielle was happy for every visit, glad that they were able to take the time regardless. She’d been a bit worried at first, that they would no longer see the need to involve themselves in her life after being taken in by Clockwork. She was ecstatic when he’d offered to be her guardian and give her a home, of course, but she didn’t want to be left behind by her siblings.

Those fears were quickly erased though, as both older children made it abundantly clear that even if she had a new home far from them and they weren’t able to see each other as much as they used to, they would still be family.

The two didn’t have to wait long at the front of their lair for the Spectre Speeder to come into view and Danielle was twirling in excitement by the time they came to a stop at the tower. The moment the doors opened, and their visitors stepped out, they were both being squeezed by their youngest sister.

“Hey Elliebean.” Danielle grinned, as she always did, at her brother’s nickname for her.

“How’ve you been Elle?” Jasmine asked, smiling at the girl.

“Great!” Danielle’s face lit up in excitement, “Ooh, ooh, yesterday, Clockwork took me to see the Eifel Tower getting made, and I tried an éclair. They’re really good.”

“Was the subject architecture or French pastries?” Daniel asked sarcastically.

Clockwork floated towards them with a chuckle, “Neither. French history. The éclair was a reward for answering all the questions correctly.”

Danielle didn’t attend a public school. They were still discussing whether or not she should or if she wanted to, but she still had a lot of gaps in her knowledge due to her lack of an education. Clockwork was filling in those gaps through their version of home schooling and once she was all caught up to what was expected of her age group, then she could decide how she wanted to further her education.

“Acing all your tests already.” Jazz sent her sister a proud look and held up her hand for a high five, “Nice job.”

As Danielle reciprocated with a giggle, Daniel came up to Clockwork and gave him a hug. “Hi Clockwork.”

“Hello Daniel.” Clockwork held the boy tightly, “How were your travels?”

Daniel shrugged as he left the hug, “Uneventful. Seriously, not even Walker bothered us.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s given up.” Jazz smiled with a shrug.

“Well that is cause to celebrate.” Clockwork gestured to Danielle, “And Danielle has the perfect thing she’s been wanting to show you two.”

At the reminder, Danielle’s face lit up, “Come on, I made cookies, you have to try them.” She dragged her laughing siblings inside, followed by a smiling Clockwork.

The Ghost of Time had never expected to have anything close to a family, but he thanked the Ancients every day for these kids.

[purpleillusn]

Cupping Empty Dreams in Your Hands

Phic phight attack 1

Prompt: “Danny realizes that the more he uses his ghost powers the less human he becomes.” - @marshmallowmayhem​

Genre: Hurt/ Comfort

Words: 1354

The plastic stars plastered across the ceiling of Danny’s bedroom in a rough depiction of the constellations glowed dimly down at him, outshone by the aura surrounding the boy as he floated a foot above his bed. It really hurt him to think about the implications of him having ghostly qualities right now. He blew a lock of jet black hair out of his face and dropped onto his mattress, the springs creaking under the impact. Danny glanced at his hand, noticing that the glow had merely dimmed, an unnatural green tint tainting his skin. This was wrong, so wrong!

Thinking back, he couldn’t really pinpoint when this had started. His green glow seemed almost like a constant at this point. Had it been there before the accident? The rest of his family didn’t have it, so it must have been after the accident, right? He focused and the glow receded into his core, leaving his hands cold and heavy on the sheets - like a corpse. Then it hit him. He was dying! Well, maybe not dying, but his ghost half was definitely becoming dominant. Ectoplasm was seeping further and further into his very being with each day that went past, and he couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to him it if eventually became all there was about him. But Vlad had been a halfa for twenty long years, and he wasn’t full ghost. Was this problem exclusive to Danny? Wait, was this why Vlad was so obsessive and unhinged, and getting worse?

Danny stood and made his way to the bathroom, splashing water in his face, something that would have been more effective at clearing his head if he didn’t have an ice core. Damn, he didn’t even feel the cold anymore.

He trudged back to his bedroom, toes dragging along the carpeted landing like a zombie, weighed down by emotional exhaustion. Turning the handle on his bedroom door, the closed door, Danny paused. He didn’t recall closing his door. Had he walked right through it without realising?

•      •      •

Maddie Fenton awoke to a soft sobbing. Taking a glance at her husband, who was sleeping like a baby, she tiptoed down the hall, converging on the source of the sound. A chill poured out from under Danny’s door, and she heard his sobs loud and clear, though they also sounded muffled by something, presumably either his duvet or pillow. Danny was odd like that, sometimes he could be almost silent yet you’d hear every word he said crystal clear, like he somehow willed the sound across the distance. And this, this was a cry for help if she ever heard it.

“Danny, sweetie?” she enquired, pushing open the door, the metal of the handle sticking with frost to her fingers. Soul freezing waves came from the shaking shape on the bed, making her hairs stand on end. Maddie had half a mind to run away and grab an ectogun, but something in the back of her mind, motherly instincts perhaps, told her this was safe.

“Danny?”

She placed a tentative hand on the ice-covered shoulder of the crying boy in the dim room. He turned to face her, tears frozen to his cheeks.

“What happened? Are you okay?” she whisper-shouted, alarm bells ringing in her skull.

Danny sniffed. “I’m fine, I-”

It had taken him a moment to process his surroundings - the frost cringing to every surface, the terrified expression on his mom’s face, but when it finally dawned on him he just sat there with his mouth agape, duvet crumpled around him. His tears started anew, each freezing over the other, creating glacier-like tracks down his sickly green face.

Maddie’s thoughts ran faster than a rollercoaster, each crowding her brain in a pounding crescendo. What on earth was happening to her son? Was this the result of ecto-contamination? Was he possessed?

Her thoughts gave way to a hug, enveloping the human icicle that was her son in that instant.

Danny took to the hug gratefully, weeping into her shoulder, the temperature around him slowly rising again. An aura grew around him dimly, something that wouldn’t have been noticeable even with a small torch in the room.

As he wiped tears from his cheeks, he sat back, still drily crying. “I guess I owe you an explanation.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck, quelling any fears Maddie had about this maybe not being her son - no ghost could imitate his endearing awkwardness.

Naturally Maddie’s brain was screaming at her that she did need an explanation, but for some reason she softly told him that he had to do no such thing right now.

“Please don’t freak out…” Danny said, not meeting her eyes.

Maddie was already freaking out, but Danny didn’t need to know that, so she tried her best to keep her composure.

“I don’t think I’m human…” Danny glanced up with pleading eyes, gauging her reaction.

‘No shit Sherlock’ drawled Maddie’s inner voice, her eyes flicking around the still partially frozen room and back to her son and the flecks of green in his ice blue eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Danny appeared to be on the verge of tears again. “Do you remember the portal accident?”

She nodded. The lichtenberg scar that marred his skin for the weeks after the incident had left quite an impression on her and her husband, as much as Danny had insisted that it wasn’t their fault.

“It kinda turned on with me inside it.”

Maddie failed to suppress a gasp. “But that should’ve killed you. How are you-?” The deathly cold skin of his arm beneath his arm was all the answer she needed. Tears spilled from her eyes despite Danny’s desperate attempts to comfort her.

“Please don’t cry. I’m fine, I swear,” Danny half-heartedly argued, not bothering to fight against her vice-like grip on his boney arms.

“Y-you’re a ghost, aren’t you? We were wrong all along, weren’t we.” That last one wasn’t a question, a mere statement of guilt, loaded with the implications that she hurt him without realising it.

Danny felt like flying away, but opted instead to curl up against the wall away from her.

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie reached out again, only to pass straight through him. The moment was then punctuated by Danny falling halfway into the wall with a small shriek.

On her second attempt, Maddie was able to pull Danny back out of the wall, embracing him close to her while they both wordlessly mourned. She held him out in front of her and said firmly, “It doesn’t matter whether you’re human or ghost, you’re still our son, and your father and I will love you no matter what. Do you understand?”

Danny nodded gratefully, his hands apparently very interesting if the way he was staring at them was any indication.

“I’m not really sure what I am,” Danny started. “The ghosts call me a halfa - half human, half ghost. I...I’m not really either..”

Maddie shushed him and rubbed circles on his back. “That’s fine too. See, there’s no need to cry, you belong here.”

Danny took a shuddering breath, the first breath he’d taken for a few minutes. “I think I’m becoming more ghost. I’m scared. I just want to go back to being human.”

Yep, that definitely explained why he was glowing a dim green, why his eyes had been getting more and more ectoplasmic spots in the irises, why his ears tapered off at the tips. Hindsight really was 20/20, and they’d all been blind earlier.

“We’ll get through this, Danny, okay? Together,” Maddie spoke calmly, masking the whirlwind of emotions lodged in her throat. “But now, you need to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“But don’t I have school?” Danny was taken aback.

Maddie gave a chuckle. “I think school can wait.”

She gave him a peck on the forehead, tucking him under the covers, and left the room. Danny sunk into the waves of unconsciousness as she closed the door, a comfortable reminder that he was at least somewhat human still.

[ladylynse]

Snapshots: Phantom never changed, even though everything--everyone--else did. Even Dani. Especially Dani. Danny didn’t realize what that meant until later. AU  [FF | AO3]

Based off this post featuring @ghostgabber’s AU where Danny’s human half ages but his ghost half doesn’t; for @faiasakura and Phanniemay 2018 Day 24. Eventual character death. (This was getting long, so I’m going to split it into two parts.)

It was a moment of time frozen forever, but Danny didn’t realize that at first.

The changes were gradual; though his parents joked about it, he really didn’t shoot up overnight, and it took time for him to fill out his scrawny frame. He couldn’t hear the changes in his voice, and it’s not like he tried to grow out his hair or grow a beard. (The less he looked like Vlad, the better.) His face eventually lost the boyishness of youth, and he was unmistakably a young man.

But Phantom never changed.

It was embarrassing at first, especially with Sam and Tucker and Jazz teasing him about it relentlessly. Geez, Danny, you could give the little match girl a run for her money. He’d thought his ghost form would change with him. You’re shorter than me and you know it; you’re my little brother. He’d seen the other ghosts change their forms over the years; why did his stay the same? Oh, man, you look so puny!

Look young though he did, his powers grew. He honed his skills, and any ghost who knew his reputation didn’t cross him. Some of them seemed to pop up and attack for old time’s sake—Skulker and the Box Ghost being the most frequent—but he became friends with most of them. Johnny 13 would let him help fix his motorcycle (Danny still wasn’t sure whether it had ever actually broken if it was just a peace offering, but he wasn’t complaining), and Ember actually invited him to one of the concerts she held in the Ghost Zone.

Danny’s grades had never been good enough for him to get into the space program, and despite his parents expressing their support for him to pursue whatever he wanted, he chose to stay in Amity Park after high school instead of applying to college. He’d wanted to assure himself that the town wouldn’t be overrun in his absence. Sam and Tucker had been reluctant to leave him on his own, but Tucker had been offered a great scholarship to MIT, and Sam wouldn’t have been happy staying under her parents’ roof any longer. Even Valerie left, though judging by her visits home, she monitored the news from her hometown closely.

So instead of seeking higher education, Danny officially took up the family business. With Jazz off at university, he could no longer depend on her to monitor their parents’ inventions. And by working more closely with them, he got a better idea of their views. They still had no love for Phantom, but they were eventually willing to (begrudgingly) admit that Phantom did a good job protecting the town.

It was a start.

It made him think he’d be able to tell them, eventually.

When it became clear that Phantom wasn’t physically changing to match Fenton, Danny used that to his advantage. They didn’t resemble each other as much as they once had, and the fact that they didn’t was seemingly further proof that there was no connection between them whatsoever. Not that anyone had really been looking. Not that he’d known of, at least. But if anyone had, now it could be laughed off as a strange coincidence, not used as potential evidence of what should be an impossibility.

If the Guys in White were still sniffing around, they hadn’t shown their faces in years. Danny rather hoped that their department’s funding had been cut and the program was now defunct, but he wasn’t going to get sloppy because of that assumption. He couldn’t afford to. It was better if next to no one knew his secret. It was still safer. For him. For his friends. For Dani.

The first time he realized the changes—or lack thereof—weren’t simply physical was during one of Dani’s visits, actually. He’d been twenty at the time and over at Sam’s to escape some of the Christmas-y-ness of his own house and to visit with her and Tucker while they were home for the holidays. Dani had dropped by with Youngblood to remind him where everyone was gathering for the Christmas Truce.

Sam and Tucker had thought she’d come alone.

No one had corrected them, and that had been the beginning.

“Maybe you just need to get out of this town,” Dani said as they flew over Amity Park. “Travel the world. Actually see something. Maybe that’ll jumpstart whatever’s not developing.”

Danny huffed. As Phantom, he still looked like he was fourteen. Dani, on the other hand, looked twice his age and barely resembled the scrappy twelve year old she’d once been, no matter what form she took.

It wasn’t fair.

She was a clone.

He shouldn’t have to be stuck looking like snot-nosed kid when he was in his thirties.

“I’m serious,” she said. “Tell your parents you want to see about expanding their company. Use Vlad as an excuse if you have to. I can hang around here for a while if that’ll make you feel better, but I doubt any of the ghosts are going to break your truce.”

She had a point. It had taken years of negotiations—begun, of course, during the Christmas Truce, when he could hold a decent conversation without trading shots—but he’d worked out a system, more or less. If the ghosts didn’t harm anyone when they came, he’d allow them to visit without interfering.

The Box Ghost still made a mess of things, but he was no more terrifying than usual. Johnny 13 and Kitty became regular visitors, along with Wulf and Dora and occasionally Youngblood and Klemper. Poindexter had even dropped by on occasion. Ember was limited to one concert in the Real World per tour, but Technus was free to scavenge for recycled or abandoned electronics as long as he did all his compilations in the Ghost Zone. (Danny was pretty sure he was still planning world domination, but a strategic comment regarding his skills had him competing with Skulker in a rivalry that kept both ghosts fairly busy.)

“I don’t think the fact that I haven’t travelled the world is the reason for this.”

Dani shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t rule it out till you try it, cuz. Travelling’s about the experience, not the destination. You’re not going to find out what a place is really like from a TV screen.”

Danny pulled up short, and Dani flew back to join him. “You think I’m wasting my life by staying here, don’t you? Dani, I’m protecting people.”

She crossed her arms. “You were protecting people,” she corrected, “and then you fixed it so that they don’t need you anymore. By staying here and claiming you’re protecting this town? You’re just trying to protect yourself.”

“Dani—”

“You have a family. And you can’t tell me you think they wouldn’t accept you after everything. So obviously that’s not why you’re not telling them. But maybe you think you’re trying to protect them now, instead in of yourself. Protecting them from the truth. You’re forgetting how much lies hurt, and you’re shortchanging them for thinking they can’t handle this.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Yeah, but it’s true. You’re not telling them because you don’t want to admit you’ve been lying to them.”

“I’m not—”

“You didn’t even try to pursue your dreams once you thought it was safe to do so. And, yeah, fine, so maybe it would’ve been hard to’ve become an astronaut, but there are other jobs out there relating to space that you definitely could’ve done. You’re smart, Danny. Intuitive, which is worth much more than book smarts. But even when your parents were willing to let you go, you stayed. If I’m dead wrong, then why are you still here?”

“I like what I do, Dani.” Normally, he’d give her points for the pun, but not now. “And Amity Park still needs Phantom, whatever you think. Pretty much every time I let my guard down, someone comes through and tries to destroy the world.”

“That hasn’t happened since your truce.”

“And you think I’m going to tempt fate with my luck?”

Dani shot him an exasperated look. “C’mon, cuz, you can concede my point. I mean…. I get if you don’t want to tell them about me. You’re my family. I don’t need anyone else.” Lies, judging by her face, and that made them more painful for it. “But you still need them. They’re your family. And this isn’t a good reason to push them away or just put up with them trying to kill you whenever you’re in ghost mode. They wouldn’t if they knew the truth. And I get it’s been easier to keep your secret from them because Phantom hasn’t changed, but…. Think about what you’re taking away from them by keeping this up.”

She wasn’t really wrong. He did think his parents would accept him if he finally told them, and he really didn’t want to admit that he’d been living a lie for years. If he told them about Dani, they’d probably accept her, too. But he just….

This was easier, in a way. Predictable. And he didn’t have to deal with Vlad hovering over him, demanding to know why he’d done what he had when the truth endangered his secret, too.

He hadn’t talked to Vlad in years except when he couldn’t help it, but he might have to. Dani was right about something else, too: whatever this was, it couldn’t be normal. Not when she was his clone and she wasn’t affected by…whatever this was. To Danny’s eye, Plasmius had never changed, but it’s not like Vlad had ever pulled out pictures from his days as a young halfa. So what if something was wrong? And if there was something wrong, who was affected? Him or Dani?

“Look, cuz, fun as this has been, I need to head out of state again. Valerie wants me to back her up while she checks something out. I’ll call you later. Just…please, think about what I said.”

She took off without waiting for a response.

Vlad raised his eyebrows. “You’re only asking me this now, little badger?”

Danny bristled. He still hated that nickname. And even though he was taller than Vlad in his human form, the other halfa hadn’t changed his ways. “Just tell me.”

Vlad shuffled the papers on his desk, playing for time and just trying to make Danny squirm. It didn’t improve his mood. But while Dani hadn’t brought it up again, Danny had been thinking about what she’d said that day—and, more to the point, what had been bothering him since he’d first realized that her ghost form was changing while his stubbornly stayed the same. That was why he was here, now, crashing at Vlad’s unannounced and demanding answers.

He hadn’t wanted to give Vlad warning, since the old fruit loop might use the time to prepare convenient answers that seemed to be the truth but were really just what Danny wanted to hear.

“Danielle is a clone, my dear boy, but she is not a perfect one. For obvious reasons.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Just spit it out.” Vlad never got straight to the point when he could go on and on. While he had more or less given up on the whole idea of getting Danny to turn on Jack and be the son Vlad had never had or of creating a reasonable facsimile, he still enjoyed the attention. And antagonizing Danny at every turn.

“How’s your biology?”

“Aside from what I need to know? Terrible.”

Vlad sighed. “Then suffice to say, little badger, that by her very nature, Danielle’s body will age faster than yours.”

Danny just stared at him.

“One of her imperfections is her instability. You may have stabilized her once, Daniel, but she is not exactly conservative in her actions, and such wear and tear is hardly the best thing for her fragile body. I must admit I cut quite a few corners accelerating her age to twelve years when I first started; it’s surprising that she does not appear older than her current age now.”

Danny opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips, and tried again. “So, what, one of these days, she’ll destabilize again? Why didn’t you tell me this years ago? How can we stop it?”

“It’s not a process that can be stopped. There are simply too many mutations within her genome, and cytolysis seems to have been introduced with the accelerated aging—”

“And you haven’t figured out how to fix it?” Danny growled, knowing his eyes were burning green but hating that Vlad had kept this knowledge to himself, that he was content with letting Dani die so easily. “We have to save her!”

“There isn’t anything we can do.”

“But there has—”

“Daniel. Her aging isn’t normal. Surely you’ve realized that, considering that your own ghost form hasn’t changed.”

“That just makes me the abnormal one,” Danny bit out. “Other ghosts have changed and grown. It’s not just the shapeshifters.”

“The other ghosts are ghosts. Have you really not figured this out? It’s been years, Daniel. I had thought you at least a little cleverer than this.”

Danny was about to retort when Vlad’s words clicked. He’d made a distinction between ghosts and halfas and already made it fairly clear that Dani’s apparently normal growth was the furthest thing from it. Which meant…. “You’re not aging, either? In ghost mode, I mean?”

Vlad leaned back in his chair and changed into Plasmius. “Do I still look so old to your young eyes?”

Plasmius didn’t resemble Masters as much as Phantom resembled Danny’s human half, but— “No. You look…. Geez, you almost look younger than me.”

“I am. I was in my mid-twenties when your insufferable father caused the proto-portal to explode in my face. But this form has its advantages, little badger. It becomes more and more difficult to give up.”

“Uh huh.”

Vlad gave him a level look, a slight curve of his lip the only indication that he disapproved of Danny’s flat tone. “You’ll understand someday. Youth isn’t something to be scorned.”

“You can’t talk. Plasmius doesn’t look like a teenager. People don’t look at you in ghost mode and not respect you. I swear, the kids these days—”

Vlad cut him off with an amused chuckle. “And you call me old. But let an old man teach you a lesson you should have already learned: accept what you cannot change.”

“What, not be the change you want to see?”

“You were always good at changing things, Daniel, but you never quite got the hang of accepting them.”

“I handled the half ghost thing well enough,” Danny muttered. He wasn’t sure what Vlad was trying to do by giving him this so-called advice, but he was more concerned about everything else the other man had said. If he wasn’t lying about Dani…. “Did you really not figure out a way to stabilize your clones? I mean, you could’ve adapted your own mid-morph sample if you were messing with DNA anyway.”

Vlad frowned, though Danny didn’t know if that was because he was incorrect or just grossly oversimplifying things. “Is that really your biggest concern right now?”

“Yes!”

“Then you haven’t learned anything at all. Run along, little badger. Try to prove me wrong. But don’t be surprised when you fail.”

“So you still haven’t told her, huh?”

Danny phased his hand through the wall of his old bedroom to the empty space where he kept a vial of Dani’s ectoplasm. He’d had to beg it off Vlad, not wanting to tell Dani what he was doing until he found a way to fix this, so he was careful with it; he wouldn’t have the opportunity to get more. Fortunately, his parents weren’t home right now, which meant he had free reign of the lab—and it meant he could have Jazz on speakerphone. “There’s gotta be a way around it. C’mon, haven’t you come across anything?” As of last week, Tucker hadn’t had anything, either, and according to Sam’s text yesterday, her best attempt at a lead had fizzled.

“You’re the one working with Mom and Dad, not me. I haven’t been covered in ectoplasmic goo in years.” Danny opened his mouth, but Jazz continued before he had a chance to say anything. “I know, I know. I’m keeping an ear to the ground, but I don’t think I’m going to be much help. You should ask Mom.”

“That would require more explaining than I’m prepared to do,” Danny pointed out as he headed downstairs. Jazz was just trying to make the point again that he should tell them his secret, especially now that he’d finally—finally—gotten them to agree to work with Phantom more overtly than ever before. He knew they didn’t trust him much, but they were getting older, and they weren’t as quick or—at least in his mom’s case—as accurate a shot as they’d once been. He’d told them, as both Danny and as Phantom, to turn on Phantom if he ever went bad, but that was as much for their comfort as for his.

He didn’t want to be let loose on the world if, for some reason, he was being controlled or anything like that. Valerie knew that, too. She didn’t need to live in Amity Park or Elmerton to keep up on the news, and Phantom going rogue? She’d pay attention to that.

But he hadn’t told her his secret, either, even after she’d accepted Dani. Because that wasn’t the same. On that point, it did come down to cowardice. Like Dani had said, he didn’t want to admit to the years of lies. And, brief though the period had been, he had dated Valerie. She might take that as a betrayal of trust. Willing to work with her enemies though she might be, she could definitely hold a grudge.

Of course, mad at him as she might initially be, she would get over it. Eventually. And then he’d have someone else to help him solve this problem with Dani before it was too late. He was beyond pretending that he didn’t need help.

“And you tried talking to Vlad again?”

“He’s no help and you know it,” Danny said as he flicked on the lights in the lab. “He gave up on her a long time ago. As far as he’s concerned, he’s humouring me. Waiting for me to realize I can’t do anything. As if I’m going to abandon her.”

A sigh. “Danny, I know how much this means to you, but you need to talk to someone who knows more than we do. Sam and Tucker have their own lives now. They can’t drop everything to help you as easily anymore.”

“And neither can you,” Danny finished. “I know. I’m not asking you to do that. I’m just—” From Jazz’s end, someone leaned on a car horn. Danny winced. That was the downside of calling Jazz in the middle of the day; if she was somewhere she could talk to him, then she was in transit, fighting her way through what seemed to be constant traffic. She walked as much as she could, claiming it kept her fit, but Danny suspected the truth was one too many close calls with drivers little better than their father. “Someone got cut off?” he guessed.

“Patience is hard to come by in the big city,” was all Jazz said. “Sometimes it feels like you’re risking life and limb even venturing out onto the sidewalk.”

“But your patients thank you for it,” Danny said, grinning as he imagined Jazz’s eye roll. “And I’m grateful that you still put up with these phone calls from me. You’re a life saver, Jazz. Really.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got, what, ten minutes till you want to be there for your next appointment?”

“Yeah. It would be tight if I didn’t give myself a few extra minutes. But you didn’t call to talk about me. Was it really just to see if I’ve miraculously discovered something to help Dani?”

She knew it wasn’t; her tone made that perfectly clear.

She could still read him like a book.

“Dani was wrong. About me just needing to travel, I mean. Since Vlad confirmed that he’s the same as me…. The joke about me being half dead might not be as much of a joke as I thought. Phantom’s never going to change, Jazz. I could be ninety, and if I go ghost, then bam! Wimpy teenager. Again.”

Jazz snorted. “Phantom can’t exactly be described as wimpy, and I don’t think perpetually looking like a teenager is what you’re really worried about. You aren’t losing yourself whenever you change, little brother. Just because you look like your past self, it doesn’t mean you’re becoming him. You’ve grown a lot over the past couple of decades, even if you can’t see that growth on the outside. That face in the mirror is still yours, and you’re still you. Phantom might be almost unrecognizable alongside Fenton, but that dissociation isn’t—”

Jazz’s words ended in a shriek, difficult to distinguish over screaming tires and blaring horns. After a loud crackle, the line went dead.

Danny’s shouts went unheard.

A warm hand dropped onto his shoulder. “She’s gone, sweetie,” Maddie said quietly as she moved around to join him at her kitchen table. “We have to accept that.” He’d come over for a visit, found them both out, and sat there to drink some tea which had long since gone cold. He hadn’t heard them come back. He had also apparently missed the kettle boiling, as she held her own steaming mug as if she were going to attempt the same thing he had. He wondered if she’d be any more successful.

Nothing seemed to be successful lately, including getting some sleep, considering there hadn’t been any ghost attacks.

It had been three weeks.

Three weeks of numbness. Three weeks of anger. Three weeks of tears. Three weeks of being an emotional mess, swinging between feel nothing (dead inside) and feeling too much.

Three weeks of that unfinished conversation repeating itself whenever he closed his eyes, always ending the same way.

Maddie pushed the warm mug toward him and pulled his untouched one away. He stared at it dully for a moment before slowly curling his fingers around it in acceptance. The patterns of steam in the air were mesmerizing. “This is incredibly hard for all of us, honey,” his mother said. “You should consider talking to someone like Jack and I do. Jazz would have wanted that.”

You don’t know what she wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to voice those words, though; there was no reason for such venom. Had a ghost taken Jazz from them, no one in their family would have hesitated. They would have been able to spring into action and take down the ghost, stopping it from doing this to anyone else even if they weren’t in time to save Jazz.

But it hadn’t been a ghost.

It had been an ordinary human. Driving. Drowsy, maybe, or drunk or texting. Danny didn’t know for sure. All he did know was that the man had run onto the sidewalk and hadn’t been able to stop fast enough. He’d hit Jazz and a few other pedestrians. He’d died from his injuries after a few days in the hospital; the others had, as far as Danny knew, recovered.

Jazz hadn’t even made it to the hospital.

“This isn’t right,” Danny whispered. “Jazz has too much left to do.”

Maddie found his hand and squeezed it. “I know it hurts, sweetie. Your heart is aching with her absence. But she’s gone, and you have to accept that. We can’t change it.”

Her words made him remember the conversation he’d had with Vlad years ago. “You were always good at changing things, Daniel, but you never quite got the hang of accepting them.”

But did he have to accept this? Jazz’s death had been abrupt, senseless, and had come well before it should have. She was the definition of someone with unfinished business in this realm. Didn’t that mean there was a chance that she was out there somewhere? Lost in the Ghost Zone, trying to recollect her memories of her past self or trying to muster up the energy to move through the Ghost Zone, find their portal, and break through?

Danny let out a slow breath. “She might not be gone gone.” He tore his eyes away from the mug and looked at Maddie. “She might be out there. In the Ghost Zone. Mom, I might be able to find her.”

Maddie’s smile was small. Sympathetic. Saddened. “Jazz wouldn’t have wanted to come back as a ghost, sweetie.”

“That’s not necessarily a choice! And if she’s out there—”

“Even if something is out there that resembles her, Danny, it wouldn’t be her. You know that.”

“You’re wrong,” he insisted. “You know as well as I do that some of the ghosts in the Ghost Zone are people and animals who had once lived in our realm. They aren’t all just sentient ectoplasmic forms or whatever your latest term for it is. And the ones who aren’t, the ones who were once alive— There’s more of the people they once were in them than you think. Death doesn’t change everything. Jazz would still be Jazz, not just a ghost that looks like her.”

Maddie sighed. “I know it’s a comforting notion, Danny, but you can’t delude yourself with such falsehood.”

“It’s not—”

“Ghosts aren’t alive!” Maddie snapped. Danny blinked, not expecting her anger, and she took a few breaths before saying, “It’s dangerous to hope like that, Danny. You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment, and you know better.”

Danny swallowed. “I know more than you do. I know more than you think.”

Jazz had always wanted him to tell them.

“Danny—”

“Do you remember that accident I had in the lab when I was a kid? The one that sparked the portal? When you wanted me to go to the hospital but I insisted I was fine and Dad was so excited about the portal working that you didn’t push the point?”

Maddie’s lips thinned but she nodded.

“More happened then than I ever told you. I…. I don’t know how it works, exactly. Jazz always understood it better than I did. But my DNA…. Something changed. I think it was infused with ectoplasm.”

There was a frown on her face now, but at least she wasn’t interrupting him. He was surprised she’d let him get this far.

“The thing is….” Danny could still see the steam rising from the mug. He looked down at it and channelled some of his ice powers into his hands. The mug cooled, and the liquid within froze solid as ice painted the outside. He didn’t look up, even though Maddie’s gasp meant she’d seen it as he’d intended. “Everything changed then, Mom. I was just fourteen. I’d been in an accident that probably should have killed me—it was worse than I ever admitted—and…. I came out of it alive and with ghost powers. Which sounds crazy, like something that should be in a cartoon or comic books or something, but it’s not. It happened.” He glanced up and met wide violet eyes. “I can turn into a ghost.”

Silence.

“I’m Danny Phantom, Mom.”

Heartbeats passed.

Maddie let out a slow breath.

Danny waited.

Finally, a quiet, heart-wrenching, “Jazz knew?”

Not what he’d expected, but Danny treated the question as the lifesaver it was. “Not at first,” he admitted, “but she figured it out, and then she helped me. Sam and Tucker knew from the start. And Vlad….” He hesitated. “Vlad knows, too. Since that reunion you dragged us to. He, um, hadn’t entirely given up ghost hunting like you and Dad thought.” That was the safest way to put that. Let Vlad explain it for himself. “But my point is, Mom, I can go into the Ghost Zone and look for Jazz. I’ve been in there before. A lot. And I’ve got friends in there who can help me. We can find her.”

Maddie took a shuddering breath. “Please don’t.”

“I—what?”

The tears that had been gathering in Maddie’s eyes began slow tracks down her cheeks, disturbed as she’d tried to blink them away. “I…. I don’t want to think that she’s a ghost.”

A lump that had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with an old terror filled Danny’s throat. He managed to choke out, “B-but…ghosts aren’t evil, mindless beings. That’s my point. I’m still your son, even though I’m a ghost, too.”

Maddie closed her eyes. “I know. And I….” This time, she was the one having trouble finding the right words. “I still love you, Danny, and so will your father. I don’t have to understand this to know that. But that’s different than what happened to Jazz.”

Relief flooded him, and he found himself smiling as he argued his point. “No, it’s not.” He almost felt like laughing. Jazz was right; he should have done this years ago. He’d have to tell her the good news. “I can go find her, and—”

“Jazz is gone, Danny,” Maddie repeated. “You can’t find her. There isn’t anything here—or in the Ghost Zone—for you to find.”

“But—”

“No. Please, just let your sister rest in peace. For all our sakes.”

Maddie stood and went down to the lab, presumably to find Jack. Danny just stared after her, dumbstruck. He’d thought…. He’d thought she’d be happy, knowing her daughter might not be lost forever.

He headed into the Ghost Zone the next morning anyway, determined to find Jazz.

Part II or see more fics

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 10

Part [1] / [9]

Read on [ffn] [ao3]

---

Click.

“Danny Fenton Phantom was spotted today exiting from the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle at the Kaufman Health Center, a recovery center specializing in adolescent mental health and trauma—”

Click.

“—what I want to know is what the hell happened here? Okay? Because in this video I see a kid who can’t walk, who’s looking around like he’s terrified someone’s going to come get him, and you’re sitting here telling me that this is Danny Phantom? This kid? So what happened inside—”

Click.

“—was released from his inpatient stay at the Amity Park Psychiatric Center just this week. Though it is unclear at this time if we’ll see him soaring through the skies again anytime soon, sources say he is recovering quickly—”

Click.

“—no, Dave, I agree that something’s not right here. If you ask me, he’s gotta be a ticking time bomb—”

Click.

“—a ghost or a human? That’s the question we’ll be discussing tonight—”

Click.

“—while what happened during his time within the government’s hold is still unknown, one thing is for certain: Danny Phantom has a long way to go if he wants to get back to his former glory.”

Click.

The screen went black.

“You shouldn’t be watching stuff like that,” Jazz said from behind him.

Danny stared blankly at his lap, not even bothering to turn around and face Jazz’s disappointed gaze. His therapist had told him—had told his parents—that Danny should avoid the news for a while. In her office, Danny found it too easy to comply because he was only just beginning to jigsaw together the broken pieces of his life, so why the hell should he care about the news?

But now it was different. It was unavoidable. The media had been tipped off that Danny Phantom had returned to modern society—somewhat—and that he was attending a PHP program, and now any brief semblance of anonymity he had was gone.

Just like that.

“Twitter’s worse,” he muttered.

Jazz sighed and came around the sofa, sinking into the cushions next to Danny. Her hair was up in a messy bun with strands sticking out like gravity didn’t exist. She pulled the sleeves down on her oversized hoodie and wrapped her arms around her legs.

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Danny prepared himself for a Jazz-style lecture about teenage psychology and how he needed to listen to his therapist because she was the expert here, not him, but instead all she gave was a small “I know.”

His stomach turned, and in a moment of vulnerability, he uttered, “I think the worst part is...they’re right.”

“Danny—”

“No. They...I...I used to get this stuff all the time. When I was just Phantom.” He paused, waiting for Jazz to butt in, but she didn’t. “It was so much—so much easier to ignore. Back then. Because they were wrong. I—I knew they were wrong. I wasn’t...a ghost. I was a halfa. They were...they were looking at me like a full ghost, you know? And...the theories were wrong. They didn’t know…”

“Some of the things they said were pretty ridiculous, I remember that.”

“Right?” Danny twisted around to face Jazz. “It was obvious to us, but they didn’t know! They sounded crazy!”

Jazz looked at him with an uncertain gaze. “You realize that they still sound crazy, right? All the people talking about you?”

“No...you don’t get it. The theories are updated, and they know—they know I’m Phantom. Don’t you get it? Everything they’re saying...it’s all based in truth.”

Her expression turned pained. “Danny, stop.”

“But I’m right.” 

“Danny just—come on, think about it for a second! The public hasn’t seen you in months, everything they’re going off of is based on rumors!”

“They saw me this morning, didn’t they?” Danny gestured at the television.

Jazz scoffed. “And you’re really going to take their word over mine? Because of a five-second video of you going into a building?”

A headache was building in his skull. Jazz was trying to guilt him, wasn’t she? But he knew the truth.

The public didn’t need much more than the short video of him going from the GAV to the building, because there wasn’t much else to the legendary Danny Phantom anymore. Everything in that video...that’s all he was now.

Just a traumatized teen going to a health center.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Danny—”

“No, I’m—I’m...” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “I’m tired.”

“Me too.”

Her voice was so quiet, so defeated . Danny couldn’t remember a time where Jazz ever sounded like this.

He was selfish, wasn’t he? He had spent all this time so caught up in his problems and his anxieties that he never thought about what Jazz was going through. They had talked, but not really. 

A wave of guilt swept through Danny because he was such a selfish and awful brother who didn’t ever think to check in with his sister despite everything she had done for him and she deserved so much better than him.

His throat felt tight. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, cut it out,” she said, slapping his arm playfully.

He tensed and immediately felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He kept his eyes trained down to his lap, not wanting to see if Jazz noticed his reaction.

“It’s not your fault, Danny.”

Danny didn’t know what she was referring to. Even so, she was probably wrong. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“With what, spending quality time with my little brother?” 

“Sure.”

“Well...” She yawned. “See? I’m too tired to do any more homework. Guess I’m forced to chill here on the couch with you. Woe is me and all.”

He rolled his eyes. “The horror.”

“I know, you should pity me.”

“Maybe you should take a nap.”

“Why do that when they’re showing reruns of ‘The Bachelor’ on TV right now?” Jazz plucked the remote from Danny’s fingers.

“Oh god.” A grin began to creep on Danny’s lips. “I get back from—from being abducted by the government...and you want to torture me with trash television?”

“Yup!”

“Unbelievable.” 

Jazz shot him a playful smile. “Well, your options are either ‘The Bachelor’ or you could always find Dad and let him blather on about ghosts for three hours. Choice is yours!”

“And become the victim of his—his latest invention? You drive a hard bargain.”

The depressive fog was beginning to lift in the room, and it was as if Danny could see clearly for the first time. Here he was, joking around on the couch with Jazz, just like before. There was nothing holding him down. He didn’t need to stand up and walk anywhere, his chest was surprisingly calm for once, and his brain felt clear and calm.

This was what he’d always wanted, right? To sit here with his sister, watching mindless television and joking about whatever was on their minds.

This was what he’d dreamt of nearly every night in the Guys in White compound.

He was safe.

Right?

“Ugh, I don’t know why she got so far into the season,” Jazz said, her eyes glued onto the screen. “She was awful.”

Danny watched as a brunette on the screen threw her purse at another girl and stormed out of the scene cursing. “The producers probably...they made her stay.”

“Oh yeah, no doubt. She was crazy. There’s no way Kevin actually liked her.”

“I mean, it is reality TV. It’s not—not actually real.” 

Kind of like how this isn’t real, huh, Fentino? 

Danny gripped his shirt. No, his brain needed to shut up right now. This was real. He was safe and the government was nowhere near him and they couldn’t touch him because the courts had made sure of it. 

“Well, she was annoying either way. I know they like to keep someone on there every season to make drama but ugh, she was just the worst. Like, look!”

“This whole show is the worst though. I can’t...believe you’re make—making me watch this.”

“Well, there’s always those packets Lancer left you!” Jazz said in a singsong voice.

Danny couldn’t hide his disgust. He flopped back against the cushions. “Ugh, don’t even joke about that.”

She took one look at him and laughed, her voice light like a stone skipping over a pond. It was a bright and cheerful sound, one that reminded him of the time he tried to attempt duplication in front of Jazz, resulting in an extra arm sticking out of his torso. 

Danny stared mesmerized at his sister, watching as her smile widened across her face and her eyes squeezed shut, crinkling at the corners. He tried to recall if she’d laughed like this at all since his release from the government, but came up blank.

Sure, they’d had moments of sibling bonding since his release, but they were all held back by something. Whether it be the watchful eyes of nurses or Danny’s body perpetually in recovery mode, there was never a moment where they could truly relax and enjoy each other’s company.

But now he was safe.

Well…

His brain drifted back to the leaked video, and his mood instantly soured. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he resisted the temptation to take it out and scroll through Twitter.

He couldn’t even imagine what people were saying.

He was probably a joke to them now, wasn’t he? Amity Park’s hero, reduced to nothing more than a shell of his former self. To go from a confident teen who would soar through the skies, protecting citizens from all sorts of unsavory characters to a traumatized, disabled teen who couldn’t get through a day without hours of therapy and needed his mom’s help to get inside of a building was...well, if that didn’t make him a joke, what would?

Jazz’s attention was now back on the TV screen, and Danny tried to emulate her. After all, he was safe and comfortable and with his sister and there was nothing else to this moment, that was all there was to think about. 

But then something flashed in the corner of his vision, and for a moment he hoped that his eyes betrayed him because it looked like a white van but that was...it couldn’t be…

No…

But it was.

He glanced over to Jazz, but she was too transfixed on the screen to notice him, and he wouldn’t know how to get her attention anyway because his voice wasn’t working and he couldn’t even breathe now and he was going to die, wasn’t he? He was going to die.

They were coming back for him.

He was going to die.

The van slowed to a crawl, and he desperately tried to see inside of the tinted windows but he couldn’t and they wouldn’t roll down their windows either so who was in the van? Was it...was it…

But it had to be him, right? Who else would come back for him?

He tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t. His chest wasn’t working anymore. 

He blinked and the backs of his eyelids were green. Just like his cell floor and the splatters along his wall and his rib when he awoke to it in front of his face and oh god he was going to die, he was going to die, they were coming back for the rest of his core and his ectoplasm and he wasn’t going to survive another round of the compound he knew it he would rather die than do that but his core wouldn’t let him because it needed to protect him his stupid Obsession was going to force him to endure whatever they threw at him in order to protect him.

Unless they ended him first.

Which they were probably here to do.

He was shaking. He was distinctly aware that he was shaking and he hoped that Jazz hadn’t noticed him but she probably would have said something, wouldn’t she?

Oh god. She was going to have to go through it all again too. No...he couldn’t let her...he couldn’t let that happen.

He needed a plan.

But...there was no plan. He couldn’t do anything. The only thing he was capable of was sitting here like some helpless dog watching the van slowly drive by his house. All he could do was wait for it to stop at his driveway, for the agents to jump out of the doors and surround his house, for Operative O to step out with that signature smirk on his face as he held up the inhibitors in one hand and the fucking red bag in the other hand and say with his deep, arrogant tone, “You ready for round two, dog?”

But then, just when the van looked like it would stop, it sped up and turned the corner of their block.

Danny blinked, staring at the empty spot where the van was just seconds ago. 

Had it really...left?

He let out a shaky breath. And then another.

It left.

But it had been so close to stopping.

Oh god. Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Danny?”

The room was spinning. He needed air. The lights were so bright. When he looked up, the ceiling was white and he kept trying to tell himself that it was a wooden ceiling but the room was spinning and he couldn’t see correctly and the lights were too bright.

It was too late. His cover was blown. His hands flew up to his hair and he felt a comforting tug on his scalp.

Get a grip, get a grip…

“Oh my god, Danny! Hey, look at me!”

Danny shook his head. Or, he tried to. He didn’t know if he was able to or not, because he definitely couldn’t look at Jazz right now because he was going to be sick—

“Danny, what do you need?”

“I—”

What?

He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t think. Everything was frozen. He felt something wet on his face but he didn’t know what it was or where it came from and his chest was sparking to life and his ears were ringing and he didn’t know what to do. 

“Try to breathe.”

Right, he needed air.

He tried to push himself up but only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. 

“Hey, what are you—”

Hands invaded his vision, touching his arm, and he swatted them away.

He needed to get out. Escape.

Something grabbed his wrist, and he yanked his arm back to his chest, his eyes snapping onto Jazz’s face.

“Danny—”

“Van!” he gasped.

Jazz stilled. “Huh?”

“There was…” Danny looked back out the window, half expecting to see the white van back outside their house.

But there was nothing.

“...a van.”

Why had it left? What did they come here for in the first place if not to take him back to the compound?

It didn’t make sense.

“What are you talking about?”

“I…” He hugged his chest, looking desperately at Jazz’s confused face for even an ounce of understanding.

Why did the van leave?

“Do you need me to get Mom?”

“No!” He was breathless. He couldn’t explain what was going on because he didn’t even know what was happening. Why the Guys in White decided to patrol around their street. Why they decided to slow down in front of their house. 

Jazz tracked his gaze to the window where a black APC News van was stopping to park across the street.  “Danny, I know there are lots of news vans around here now, and I know it’s really stressful. But Mom and Dad tinted all the windows so they can’t see inside of the house, okay?”

Danny gritted his teeth. He wanted to yell out that it wasn’t the news, it was the Guys in White, but his voice wasn’t working and even if it was, Jazz would just call him paranoid and insist that the government wasn’t there to get him again, that he was safe, even though he knew that was a lie.

So instead, all he could force out was a tense “sorry.”

“I know this is hard, but we can get through this together, alright?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see her bright, trusting eyes. And, with a final shuddering breath, he felt the last of his adrenaline rush out of him.

Because maybe Jazz was right. After all, this was Jazz. She was always the smart sibling, the one who everyone could trust. She must have been right. It had to have been just a news van.

Maybe he really was unstable.

“Sorry. I’m fine.”

He was suddenly hyper aware of where he was, sitting on the living room couch with his sister, who was looking at him like he was a ticking time bomb—and maybe he was. Maybe that was all he was destined to be from now on.

Either way, it was embarrassing. 

“Sorry, I—I’m gonna go lie down for a bit.”

Jazz’s face almost looked relieved. Danny couldn’t blame her. 

“Sure, Danny. Do you need help getting upstairs?”

“No.” Danny glanced over to the stairlift, grimacing. He really couldn’t get his core back quick enough.

He began the arduous task of getting up to his bedroom, trying to remember the stupid grounding techniques that the PHP therapists were making them practice. “When you feel your brain trying to pull you into your trauma, remember your senses. Try to think of one thing for each of your five senses to bring you back to the present.”

It was stupid. He didn’t need grounding techniques because he wouldn’t even be in this situation if not for the Guys in White trying to ruin his life again.

One, touch. He could feel the loose ectoplasm beneath his fingers, the way his hands were sticky against the damp tile, the burning electricity they would use to punish him, the cold metal straps chaining him down to the examination table, the ecto-inhibitors weighing down on his neck, the way Operative O’s fingers trailed his chest just before the scalpel sliced through his skin, his flesh tearing off of his body all while he lay there, silently screaming, waiting for the pain to take him because he couldn’t do it anymore.

No, that’s wrong. You’re doing this wrong. 

But how could he come back to the present when the past refused to leave him alone?

Think, Fenturd. 

He closed his eyes and felt...his sweatpants. And…

Two, hearing. He could hear Operative O’s deep voice—

No.

—and the way it would echo around the tiled rooms, the sounds of nice black shoes hitting the pristine floors, the squeaking of Phantom’s damp hero suit as the operatives dragged him across the floor, the—

Stop. 

—machines whirring to life as they prepared to drain him of more ectoplasm every day, the scraping of tools against a metal table, the metal straps clicking into place each day, the slight squeak of the IV drop they would have to wheel into the experimentation room after Danny stopped being able to eat—

STOP.

His hand slammed the emergency brake, and the stairlift lurched to a halt. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he sat there at the top of the stairs, focusing on breathing if only to prevent hurling all over his dad’s stairlift. 

He needed to calm down. Ground himself. Be present in the moment. Do what the therapist told him to do.

He could hear his heartbeat. The TV Jazz was watching. The crickets outside.

He flipped the stairlift back on and continued forward.

Three, sight. He could see the controls for the lift. The red emergency brake. His hands. His human skin.

He ascended the last few stairs and, like a robot, rolled off the platform and pushed himself to his bedroom.

He could see his door. It was a wooden door, not like the metal door in the Guys in White facility. The metal door smeared with green ectoplasm—he got punished for that one—with a sickening pool of ectoplasm right in front of it from Danny’s attempts at eating the meals they would bring to him every evening. He could see the cameras in the corners of his cell, always pointing down towards him as a constant reminder that he was always being watched. He could see the granola bars on the other side of his cell mocking him, the tube Operative O would show off before he would shove it down Danny’s throat—for being an insolent, disrespectful creature, of course—the scalpel glistening under the bright lights, ectoplasm speckled on it like jewels.

He could see his bed. His window. His rug.

His nightstand, which he knew if he opened the drawers he would see pens, batteries, his phone charger, and a bottle of oxycodone.

Danny pulled himself onto his bed, pointedly turning his head to face his wall. He could see all the cracks in the wall. When he first got out of the hospital, he used to spend hours tracing the cracks. It was the only thing that would help distract him from all the pain.

He ran a hand along the rough surface, but to his disappointment, the magical distracting aura of the wall had vanished, leaving behind nothing but a broken surface.

Four, smell. Ectoplasm. Nothing but ectoplasm. Burnt battery acid with a hint of lime. Disgusting, revolting, inhuman. On his skin, in his hair, under his nails, everywhere. 

The smell of Clorox in the hallway, the distinct rotting of his cell, the red bag…

He covered his face with his hands. He was doing this exercise all wrong, he knew he was, but for some reason he needed to do it this way. He wanted to forget, but there was another part of him that almost needed to relive what happened as if to punish him for existing. It was an ugly, revolting part of him that he loathed right down to his core but it just wouldn’t shut up.  

He glanced over to his nightstand.

He needed to make a decision, didn’t he?

Five, taste.

---

“So, Danny. Your mom’s been worried about you,” the therapist said, scanning her clipboard. 

Danny prodded at the stress ball in his lap. The one in the hospital had been blue, but this one was green. It could have looked like a ball of ectoplasm if it weren’t so dull. 

“Oh?” He feigned surprise.

“She said you’ve been having trouble eating again.”

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying her statement. There was no point in really responding anyway. This was his personal therapist, the nice blonde lady he saw three times a week. She knew him better than anyone at this point. If he even thought about lying, she would call him out.

She tapped her clipboard with her pen. “She told me your father made hot dogs last night. Do you remember?”

Danny stared down at the white carpet. It was so clean, so fresh. If it weren’t for the small grey diamonds patterning the material, it would have looked nearly identical to the government floors.

This office was much brighter than the one she used in inpatient. Much cleaner, and the sofa was more comfortable too. Yet Danny couldn’t help but have a sudden urge to walk straight out the door.

If only he could.

“Danny?” she asked, her voice softening. 

He sighed, jabbing a finger into the stress ball. “My dad made hot dogs.”

“Right, and do you remember what happened after he made hot dogs?”

He wanted to forget. 

It was bad enough before, with the nurses and his parents constantly going over his meal plan and the stupid protein shakes. But now that everyone was at least vaguely aware that Danny may have had some stupid experience around food and that he may have accidentally brought that home with him and he might be failing to hide it from everyone close to him?

He did not want to get put on a meal plan again.

Maybe he could convince Tucker to pick up some Nasty Burger for them. If he ate it in front of his parents, surely that would get them off his back. That was a normal teen thing, right? He did that before everything changed. That sounded like a good plan.

Danny glanced up at the therapist, the suggestion ready to leave his lips, but faltered. She was looking at him expectantly. She’d asked him a question about dinner, hadn’t she?

“Uh…” Danny squinted at the stress ball, trying to remember the question. 

A part of his mind tried to recall what the Nasty Burger tasted like, but he couldn’t remember. It was good, he knew that much. He used to eat there all the time, but now he couldn’t remember.

What if he didn’t like their food anymore? What if it smelled wrong and he couldn’t eat it? The Nasty Burger was a normal teen thing, so if he couldn’t eat it then that would make him abnormal which was the exact thing he was trying to avoid with this plan.

This was a disaster. He knew he was going to fail at eating the Nasty Burger. Why did he think he could do this? He was too much of a mess of a person to even think of eating a burger.

Not a person, remember? You’re just a—

“I’m not,” Danny whispered. “Shut up.”

“Yeah?”

Danny dropped the stress ball into his lap. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, trying to fight off whatever game his brain was about to play, before groaning and burying his head into his hands.

“Take your time, Danny. Deep breaths.”

Right, he needed to breathe.

In...and out…

In...and out…

He was fine.

“Are you alright?”

Danny nodded, rocking back and forth in his chair ever so slightly. He was fine. He was fine. 

He allowed the silence in the therapist’s office to stretch a bit further, focusing on calming his racing heart and embracing the dark, silent parts of his mind. They were his safe havens, the parts of his brain that he could lock himself into to escape the ugly memories of the government facility.

His brain felt like swimming in a hurricane with no land in sight. But every once in a while, he managed to spot the eye in the storm, and sometimes he could even fight the riptides just long enough to swim to safety.

He was fine.

“It’s stupid anyway.”

“What is?”

“This. Me. Everything...dinner.”

“Why do you think it’s stupid?”

He shook his head. “The whole thing...it’s so dumb. I don’t…”

The therapist didn’t say anything. Vaguely, Danny could hear the click of her pen, but he couldn’t hear the familiar scratching of the pen on the clipboard. 

She must have been waiting for something, Danny realized. 

This was the perfect opportunity. Dinner last night had been a complete and utter disaster. He had already been on edge courtesy of the white van—which now he was almost positive he was such a paranoid idiot because it was probably just a news van—and then the next thing he knew he was curled up in the bathroom trying to fight off the smell of processed meat that was attacking his home. 

He could have told the therapist right then and there. She knew about the dissection, about the night he tried to escape, about the nights he’d spent locked in his dark, damp cell, shivering, desperately trying to cling to the memories of his family and friends because he knew—or he thought—that those memories were all he’d have left of them.

And suddenly, he wanted so badly to tell her because what was worse than being ripped open and torn apart? What could possibly be worse than being electrocuted and dragged away from his family? What could be worse than hearing gunshots and not knowing for weeks after if the Guys in White had actually shot and killed his family?

It was all so screwed up. He was so tired of the panic, of the pain, of the lapses in his memory and the freaking therapies and the chest pain that never seemed to go away. This was his life now and he was exhausted.

This was the only part of his captivity that he hadn’t told her. He could end all this secrecy right now. She could help him.

He looked up at her, and there she sat with her blonde, curly hair clipped back, revealing a patient smile paired with her signature soft, grey eyes. Her legs were crossed, and in her hands, she held her clipboard and pen. She was here, radiating kindness and a judgment-free environment where Danny was sure he could reveal exactly what the hell was going on without worrying about seeing that horrified face he saw from his mother or Jazz during family therapy.

She could help him. He just had to say it.

“I…” He took a shuddering breath, dropping his eyes back to his lap where the green stress ball still rested. “Um…”

Say it.

“I…”

Say it.

“In the...in the…”

SAY IT.

“...”

Why couldn’t he say it?

He glanced up again and she was still sitting as patient as before. She was waiting for him, because she trusted him to tell her what was wrong, and he wouldn’t say it.

Because he couldn’t.

Because he was weak. 

Because Operative O did train him, just like he had promised he would.

And worst of all, Danny had let him. He knew exactly what Operative O was trying to do, and he’d let it happen. He hadn’t tried to fight him off at all, and he hadn’t eaten the granola bars when asked. He could have easily avoided all of this, but he didn’t. Because he knew, and Operative O knew, that Danny deserved it.

“I don’t know.”

The therapist hummed in response. “Food can be just as powerful of a weapon as a knife. It can be used against us as a means for control. And then sometimes, we may take that trauma home with us. Do you feel like the Guys in White used food to control you?”

“Of course they did,” Danny snapped. What did she think the entire meal plan was for?

“Can you think of a time where they did this? It can be any time that jumps out to you.”

Danny frowned, rolling the stress ball around in his lap. If he outright refused to answer, then she would tell his parents and they would start crying again and would threaten to send him back to inpatient. And after yesterday, he was already on thin ice. 

So he would have to give an answer, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

“They were mad that I had to use IVs,” he started. “So they tried to force feed me.”

“That must have been really scary.”

“Yeah…” His throat tightened, and his eyes started to burn.

“Can you tell me about it a little?”

No.

“Uhh…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “By that point, everything just hurt so much. I don’t really...I can’t…”

“What was hurting?”

He hugged his torso. “My back, mostly. My arm too. Ribs. That was before...before when they—with my chest, you know. I didn’t have that then. There was time in between my back and that.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” He was starting to feel hazy. Things were blurring together, and he didn’t know if the tingles in his chest were a sign of his pain medication wearing off or if they were just a part of a distant memory.

“Did the smell of the hot dogs bring you back to that place?”

“Kinda. I don’t know. It shouldn’t have.”

“Why do you think that?”

Danny pressed a hand to his chest. The tingles were starting to get worse, and Danny tried to remember if he had taken his medication that morning. 

He had to have taken it. His mother controlled his medication, per doctor orders, and she always made him take it with breakfast.

But the tingles in his chest were starting to feel like fire licking at his skin, and even when he tried to smother the fire with his fingers, it only seemed to grow worse. 

It didn’t matter, he would get more medication soon. He just had to grit his teeth and bear it until then.

He was fine.

“Danny, what’s on your mind?”

Danny flinched, and once again, he was made aware that he was still sitting across from his therapist who seemed to have an unlimited supply of patience for his bullshit. 

He glanced up at the clock. They still had a half hour left of this session.

“Yeah.”

What were they talking about again?

---

The phone lit up, illuminating the dark room.

Danny wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on his bed, staring out the window at the stars speckled against the sky. It was a clear night, a full moon. It would have been perfect for a flight if he could. If he didn’t have this chip in his neck.

He ignored the phone. Whoever was trying to contact him would have to wait. The night was too perfect, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gazed out at the stars.

It was so serene. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was outside, floating face up towards the Milky Way. But he wasn’t going to close his eyes and imagine that, because it wasn’t real. And he didn’t know when he would even get that opportunity again, if ever.

And besides, if he closed his eyes, how would he look up at the stars?

His phone went dim, leaving him once again submerged in the darkness of the night.

The stars were too far away. Maybe if he tried, he might be able to at least drag himself onto his roof.

But what if he couldn’t? Did he even want to try, knowing he was likely to fail? Would he be able to handle that kind of defeat?

It was no use. He would just have to ask his parents to take the chip out in the morning. Surely they had safety-proofed the lab by now, hadn’t they? If they were so worried about Danny being hurt? It must have been a top priority for them.

But then why hadn’t they done that during the two months Danny had been in and out of the hospitals? Why wait?

Unless…

Stop it. 

It was preposterous to think that his parents would lie to him about this. After all, what was the point of keeping Phantom locked up? They knew it was hurting him to be separated from his ghost core for so long. Surely they were going to take the chip out as soon as possible.

Right?

The phone lit up again, snapping Danny out of his thoughts. Whoever was trying to contact him this late could certainly wait till morning. If Danny hadn’t picked up the first time, then what made them think he was going to answer now?  

He snatched the stupid device off his nightstand, fully intending on shutting the damn thing off, but froze. There, displayed perfectly on the caller ID, was the name of someone he hadn’t thought about in months:

Vlad Masters

His blood ran cold. Vlad? Why him? Why now? As far as Danny knew, he’d kept his distance since the court case. Of course, Danny had known that he was the one financing the entire lawsuit—Danny wasn’t an idiot—but he assumed it was either Vlad’s attempt at either reconciling his own stupid guilt or, the more likely scenario, that it was Vlad’s way of making sure the Guys in White couldn’t keep their grimy little hands on Danny’s halfa biology. 

Either way, Danny assumed that Vlad would have enough tact to know to stay the hell away from him.

But Vlad was never one to uphold unspoken boundaries, now was he?

Danny’s finger lingered over the end call button just a moment too long.

Although his stay with the government had changed him, his poor decision-making skills and teenage impulsiveness had unfortunately survived these past few months.

Danny jabbed the answer button and whipped the phone up to his ear.

“What do you want, Plasmius?”

---

As always thank you so much to @imekitty for beta-ing this fic. If you like this fic, check out her fics on ffn, they are very angsty and brilliantly written!

Thanks for reading!

---

<previous / next>

[akela-nakamura]

See, the thing with a last ditch, we-have-nothing-left-to-lose plan, is when it works, you remember that consequences are a thing.

Jason’s remembering that now.

Now, as his grave burns green. Now, as that same burn rises in his blood, bubbles in his throat. He swears he can feel his eyes glowing.

Like calling to like.

Dead calling to dead.

Ah, fuck, this might’ve been a bad idea, he thinks as everything turns green.

He jerks back, as the green coalesces into a mesmerizing swirl. He can’t look away, can’t tear his eyes from the fucking portal that his grave has become. He can feel a tugging, deep inside. Beyond the rage of the Pit, below the acrid burn he’s long grown used to, something settles. Something Calls.

For Tim. For Tim. For Tim.

He has to do this. If his brother never wakes up--if his family has to watch Tim wither away, alive but asleep, helpless to do anything, to wake him, they will shatter into pieces. Jason’s death broke them, broke them in ways he still can’t understand, and that was just Bruce, Dick and Barbara. Now, with so many people, Jason doesn’t even want to think of where the fault lines would land.

He’s not sure they would ever recover.

For Tim, he thinks again, as the tugging turns into pulling, as he stands up without making the conscious decision to.

As something, someone, steps out of the portal.

For a second, Jason can’t comprehend what he’s looking at. Everything is green--And god how he hates that color. The poison green of the Pit haunts him, he sees it in his dreams, he sees it when he lets the anger win, when he’s too fucking tired to fight back the rage, and he hates it.--and swirling and it feels like home, and it feels like death. Then it’s like his vision clears, or he rubbed sleep out of them, or he switched to night vision on his mask when darkness suddenly fell.

Or he just knows what stands before him is like him. Dead but not. Alive but not. Between. Halfa.

Whatever the case, Jason got his wish. He Called, and something answered. Someone who looks just younger than Jason himself. His hair is pure white, his eyes are Lazarus green. Or not quite. The Lazarus is poisonous, toxic and wrong. It’s acidic and distinct. This is...warmer. Bright green, neon, for sure, but calmer.

Jason realizes he’s shaking. Beneath the Pit, the toxic vice grip, something hums.

It feels nice.

“Oh, dude,” The kid says. It sounds like English but not. He understands it, even thought he feels like he shouldn’t. “What happened to you?” The kid’s looking at him with horrified sympathy on his face.

It’s really hard to breathe, right now. There’s something happening inside him, and he hasn’t felt this unstable since he first came out of the Pit. He’s made of rage, and he’s made of peace, he’s alive but he’s dead. His heart is beating but it’s not. It’s so goddamn loud.

It’s so quiet.

“I died,” Jason says, his voice a wreck. He’s shaking, head to toes, and he can’t catch his breath. “I died, and I didn’t, but that’s not--I Called for something else.” He can’t forget. This isn’t for him. He isn’t doing this for him. Whatever sacrifice he has to make here, whatever price there is for Calling something so obviously not of this world, he’ll pay it. But he will make sure that he saves Tim first.

No war can be won without young men dying. He thinks. He breathes. Those things which are precious are saved only by sacrifice.

It’s an appropriate quote, and it makes him want to laugh. It’s a reminder, it’s a grounding thought. Books have always welcome him, and he uses the words he finds within them to try and put words to his feelings.

“For--for something else?” The kid says, aghast. “Dude, what else could you have Called for? You need some help.”

“No,” Jason snarls, body jerking forward in the start of a lunge. He holds himself back by the faintest thread of control. The kid looks startled, but unafraid. Good, good. Jason’s not sure what has control right now. The Pit, or him, or the something that’s building in him. “No, I didn’t Call for me. I Called for my brother.”

Something like sadness crosses the boy’s face. “I can’t bring back the dead, if--”

“He’s not dead,” Jason says. He won’t let it happen. Tim will fucking live. “He--the whole city’s been falling into comas. It got him. And--it felt like this. It felt like something dead.” Jason’s pretty sure he’s not making sense, but he doesn’t know how to explain it. How to put into words what he felt holding his brother’s limp form. How something in him just knew.

“Okay.” The kid holds up his hands, like he’s asking for a pause. “How about we start this from the beginning?” He holds out a hand. “My name is Phantom.”

Jason stares at the kid’s hand, wrapped in a white hazmat glove. Okay. Start from the beginning. Jason can do that, he can be sane. Even though it feels like he’s shredding apart, even though every second that passes with Tim still asleep feels like an eternity. He holds his hand out to shake Phantoms, but he can’t quite make his hand grasp. It’s like something is physically preventing the contact.

Like magnets, repelling.

“I’m Jason,” He says after several seconds of trying to make contact. The rage is building in him again, so he puts his down down before it forms a fist. “And I need your help. My brother,” he pauses, breathes, tries to gather thoughts that have scattered like water on a hot pan. “fell into a coma. It’s been happening all over the city. No one knows why. When I touched him, it felt like--it felt familiar. I remembered...stuff. About death. And I Called you. I don’t care what it costs. If you can help him, I will owe you anything you ask of me. Only of me. My family is off limits.”

The portal has closed by now. It being gone has done nothing to calm the storm in Jason’s chest, to stop him shaking. It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe. In fact, it might be even worse. But it doesn’t matter. He’ll rip himself to shreds if it helps Tim.

The kid--Phantom, lands on the ground. Somewhere in the back of his head, Jason realizes he’s been floating the entire time. Phantom looks concerned. He doesn’t look like he’s planning on asking Jason for his immortal soul, or control of his body every other Thursday or something.

“Alright, not quite the beginning, but I can work with this.” Phantom says, mostly to himself. Jason’s not sure he can form more words right now. “So, just to make something clear, there’s no price. I’m not here for your first born or whatever. You Called, and I answered. I’m here to help. And I’ll help your brother. But, dude, you’re not exactly in the greatest shape right now. How long have you been like this?”

Like what? Jason thinks, rage roaring. Alive but wrong? Alive but dead, dead but alive, a horrifying shell of the kid he was? How long has he been choking on the Pit waters? How long he’s been made of rage and the screaming, driving need for blood? How long has his control over his own body been a fight between his own will and the shifting riptide of the water he can’t get rid of?

Jason stares for a moment, a war tearing in his chest. He throws his head back and laughs. It’s not nice. It sounds like a scream. It’s sounds as insane as he’s always feared he was.

“I’m going to take that as a while.” Phantom says, sounding slightly faint. Oh, good, Jason’s scaring other dimensional dead kids now. Perfect. Check that off the bucket list. “I can help you. I want to help you. And then we can help your brother. There’s no price, please, let me help.”

Jason wants to believe him. The calm below the Pit does. But the Pit is a wild storm in his head right now. It’s gleefully ripping at his memories, reminding him of all the times he trusted and it backfired. Reminding him of betrayals and the consequences of them. It’s poking it’s cruel fingers into every part of him, building fury and distrust and the blinding rage he lived on when he first came back to Gotham. It’s getting hard to see past of the wall of water climbing in his vision.

But god, if he’s telling the truth, if he can quiet the Pit, if he can stop this conflict in his chest, the constant vigilance he has to keep up, if even by a little bit.

If it could be calm in his head, for once. If it wasn’t a constant war.

He might actually feel alive.

But Tim.

“Tim.” He gasps out, and oh, wow, it’s getting kind of dark. Or hard to see. he doesn’t think he should be shaking this hard. He doesn’t think he should be breathing this hard. He can’t calm himself. Can’t find his control. It kind of feels like he’s dying again. Like he’s falling off a waterfall and there’s nothing to catch him.

“I’ll help him, I swear, but I have to help you first. Please.” Phantom says, his hand out again. There’s something honest in his gaze. The promise feels like it has weight. Like it’s not just words. It’s words written on paper, bound and titled. It’s words with binding. An oath.

It feels like salvation. It feels like if he can just grab that hand, he’ll finally be able to breath again. He’s drowning. He’s been drowning and it’s only now, with the surface so close, that he realizes he’s been under water. He wonders if he ever truly left the Pit.

He’s doing this for Tim. He did this for Tim. But he can’t help Tim if he falls into Pit rage. He can’t help Tim if the tearing in his chest kills him again.

The Pit is screaming at him not to trust Phantom. To kill, to tear through Gotham and find who hurt his brother, his way.

The calm beneath merely hums, content.

Jason lifts his hand, reaches for the surface. Just this once, he’ll trust on blind faith. Just this once, he’ll throw aside every instinct, every hard lesson beat into his bones, and trust.

“Okay,” He says, his throat a wreck. “Help me.”

His hand connects.

Short DPXDC Prompts #364

Nocturn makes a pact with Professor Hugo Strange to advance both their power and skill. Gotham residents are falling into comas. The Bats don’t know what’s happening. One of their own has fallen and the amount of comatose Gothamites exponentially increases each day. If only they had a connection to someone from the GZ or liminal person that could help them.

[rogerblackwolf]

From the Shadows

15 miles South of Wadi Halfa

Sudan, North Africa

-2011-

As the desert sun reached its peak there was barely a breeze in a flat valley between two flat plateaus, perfect for target practice. The target, a single abandoned car with flat tires and broken windows, rust had set in along its body; calling it a wreck was generous. A whooshing sound was heard, then the car suddenly exploded into a flaming mess of scrap metal. The force was so strong it made the front of the car tip upwards on its rear wheels before slamming down in a cloud of dust and debris. Flaming metal and other car parts landing with thuds, littering the valley floor. A hundred yards away, a woman dressed in desert camouflage gear and a tan ballistic vest lifted her RPG-7 launcher before smiling at its performance.

“As you can see the HEAT rounds are just as devastating to non-armored targets as well as armored ones. A pretty play toy, don’t you think?” The woman asked, turning to the crowd behind her, flexing her toned, tattooed arms. 

Roughly eighty hyena-like humanoids, both female and male, of various ages and heights, either standing, crouching, or on horseback turned to look at one male who wore a mask that was made from the skull of some sort of antelope that might’ve helped distinguish his position in this clan. He was also lighter in fur color, with an unusual pattern mix of spots and stripes. The male spoke in his native tongue, a mixture of growls and rhythmic snarls to his clan, repeating the woman’s question to them. In response, they all made calls of laughter and growls. A sudden roar silenced them instantly, astride a black stallion was a dark furred female with lighter markings around her hips and legs, she had piercings in her ears and nose, and though she was topless, the multitude of scars on her chest drew more attention than her nakedness. In one hand she held the reins of her horse and in the other a weathered SKS rifle with a bladed bayonet. Her mere presence made most of the clan males visibly cower, while the females did not because they knew better than to show weakness and incur her wrath.

This alpha female looked to the male in the skull mask and spoke in a different language, which the woman with the RPG recognized as Arabic with a few growls mixed in, the male then nodded once she finished speaking then turned back to the woman.

“She said to continue the demonstration.” The male said in English.

“Well since I’ve whetted your appetites. Decker!” The woman replied, handing her RPG to a man dressed in similar gear to her, except he had a white shemagh wrapped around his neck. He had a youthful face with short hair complete with a trimmed goatee but despite his young appearance he carried himself with some discipline and experience. He placed the RPG back into a padded wooden crate along with two others before closing the lid and putting it back on a stack behind him. He then picked up a crate from another stack and sat in on the ground before removing the lid to reveal five AK-47 rifles, their magazines off to the side in their own section of the crate. Decker then let the woman pick up one rifle and one loaded test magazine, the only one in the crate.

“Remember Agent Prince, it’s a demonstration, don’t go overboard.” Decker reminded the woman.

She rolled her eyes before saying with a smirk.

“What’s a good demonstration without pushing the limits a bit?”

She then turned back to her audience, holding the rifle above her head in one hand for all to see.

“This is the AK-47 rifle, fresh off the assembly line. It is so simple to operate even children can handle this weapon with ease. The magazine holds thirty rounds of 7.62 x 39mm ammo. To make ready the rifle, you load the magazine, rack the slide, and pull the trigger. Simplicity itself.” Agent Prince says, doing the actions swiftly before shouldering the rifle and taking aim. Decker threw three clay pigeons into the air in quick succession, which she quickly shot out of the air in bursts of fire. She then emptied the rest of the magazine into the flaming scrap metal.

“See, simple. But I’m sure you want to see what else you’re getting.” Prince said, removing the magazine as the translator repeated everything as she spoke. 

Prince put the AK-47 back in it’s crate before Decker brought a third crate over this one having only two weapons, they looked similar to the AK-47 but with much longer barrels, even having bipods, and the stocks were different in shape. 

“This is the RPK light machine gun, it uses the same ammo as the AK-47 so you won't have to worry about mismatched ammo. It’s longer barrel gives it a longer range than a standard rifle and the bipod gives it more stability when behind cover or when prone. And it can use the standard AK magazines or it's bigger seventy-five round magazine. Operation is exactly the same as the AK, like so.” Prince said, loading the only loaded magazine in the crate and took aim.

As Decker set up some targets, on one of the plateaus, over a mile away, was a lone sniper looking through the scope of his rifle. This rifle, however, was no normal rifle since it didn’t use regular black powder propellant ammunition. It instead fired energy based projectiles using a magic crystal as a battery and with the turn of a dial on its side, its rounds could even reduce a multistory building to rubble. Hopefully the sniper wouldn’t need to use such a setting as he watched Agent Prince take out the targets of wooden boards, even sawing a couple in half. The sniper kept an eye on the werehyenas who were all watching and nodding at the weapons performance the females included. 

“Eagle 2, This is Rogue Squad. Check in. Over.” A male voice came over the sniper’s radio.

“This is Eagle 2. All quiet. Over.” The sniper replied.

“Comfortable?” The voice asked.

“Sure just baking in the sun and my pants are full of sand, I’m just peachy. Over.” Eagle 2 said sarcastically whilst the guy on the other end chuckled.

“Just bear with it a little while longer, Prince is about to close the deal. Out.” The guy said on the radio before ending the transmission.

Prince had emptied the RPK and placed it back in its respective crate before looking to the werehyenas. They in turn looked to the alpha who waved her hand forward with a growl, the translator walked over to her and they spoke in Arabic. Prince knew Arabic but unfortunately couldn’t discern many of the words through the growls and snarls to make out clear sentences. As the alpha spoke one of the younger males, comparable in age to a human preteen, stared at Decker and the convoy of armored vehicles behind him in curiosity. Decker noticed as well, but he then realized the kid wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at his AK-103 rifle he held in front of him.

Decker and his brothers in arms had the same rifles, they were like the AK-47 in design just with some modern upgrades they even used the same round, if anything they were the same but one was simply older than the other. But Decker could see why this creature would be skeptical about getting older weapons instead of new ones like theirs. Finally the translator and the Alpha concluded their talk only for her to dismount from her horse, one female took the reins while two others followed her to meet Agent Prince. Prince now saw just how tall this female was, she herself was a tall woman at 5'10",  but this female was a colossus that easily looked down at her as well as the other males and most of the females that didn't match her height. Even in the shadow of this hyena woman, Prince didn't lose her composure, even as sweat beaded from her brow, she kept her faint smirk before asking.

"So, what's it gonna be?"

The alpha female growled before speaking in English.

"We will take everything."

"Great, so that’s forty AK-47 rifles, ten RPK light machine guns with forty-two hundred rounds of ammunition…" She listed before the Alpha interrupted.

"And the RPG's?"

"And the RPG's. With thirty rounds for them." Prince confirmed.

The Alpha seemed pleased and nodded to one of her subordinates to take the crate at their feet, only for Prince to plant her boot on the top of the crate. This made the Alpha and many of the others give Prince a look of anger, even eliciting a snarl from her as Prince rested her hand on a holstered Desert Eagle on her gun belt.

"This is a transaction. You want these, you have to pay for them." Prince said, ignoring the clan's growls and calls as well as the sounds of her 14 man team disengaging their rifles safeties. The Alpha was both surprised and angered by this sudden defiance, especially with how this human fancies herself her equal.

"I could just kill you all and take them." The Alpha snarled, a demonic smile curled across her snout revealing her bone-crushing teeth.

"Kill me and we all die here. Then everyone gets nothing. You're smarter than that girl." Prince replied with her own smile.

"Say the word boss and this bitch is toast." Eagle 2 said into his mic, the whirling of his rifle powering up was also heard.

Prince ignored it, not taking her eyes off the Alpha or her clan mates who had their own weapons of spears, bows, even swords and axes ready. The tense standoff ended a few moments, though it felt like hours, later with the Alpha raising her hand silencing her clan, making them lower their weapons. Prince did the same, making her men lower their rifles before asking the Alpha.

"You have the payment?" 

The Alpha growled in annoyance before saying something to her subordinates, the female went to the Alpha's stallion and retrieved a medium sized pouch from the saddlebag. She gave it to the Alpha who then gave it to Prince, who looked inside taking out one of the contents, a thumb sized crystal with a dim orange glow. She handed it to Decker, who took it to one of the armored trucks opening a locked rifle case to reveal another rifle that Eagle 2 was equipped with, only this one had a medium range scope instead of a long range scope. Decker ran his hand along the rifle’s upper receiver, his fingers brushing the stamped letters that read “HAMR” followed by the serial number. Decker sat his AK-103 off to the side of the truck bed, then picked up the HAMR, pressing a button on the grip to power it up, a dull blue light along the barrel showing it was ready to be fired. 

He pressed the button again, powering it down to flip a switch making a small compartment in the top of the stock revealing the blue ‘power crystal’, he removed it then replaced it with the orange crystal. Once the compartment was closed, Decker hit the button to power up the HAMR, it did so only with an orange glow along it’s barrel instead of blue. Decker then nodded to Prince who was looking his way, she smirked before turning back to the Alpha.

“Looks like we have a deal. Boys! Start unloading!” Prince shouted to her men, the Alpha even barked at her male subordinates to help unload their new weapons. As the men went about unloading the crates of guns and ammo, Decker rejoined Prince as they walked back to their armored Humvee.

“So, remind me why we’re arming this Bultungin clan.” He asked.

“Because the Bureau believes we need allies. Besides with the innumerable terror groups active in this region, the Bultungin are on the defense. Also this particular clan was the only one willing to trade with us, we get new energy crystals for our new HAMR rifles and they get firearms to defend themselves…or whatever they choose to do as long as they don’t become our new problems.” Prince responded.

Once the trucks were emptied, the clan made quick time opening the crates and arming themselves. Most of the males quickly took to the firearms while the females mostly kept their melee weapons, as did some of the stronger males in the clan. The Alpha jumped onto her stallion, and after seeing her clan had their new rifles, shouted a command making the clan follow her out of the valley.

Prince also thought it would be a good idea to be scarce now that their work was done. She got into her Humvee, with Decker giving the order to move out, and got on the radio to speak to HQ.

"HQ this is Agent Dominika Prince of Rogue Squad. Come in." She said.

"Agent Prince go ahead." A male voice answered.

"Christmas came early for our new friends, we’re gonna pick up Eagle 2 then head for the border.” Prince explained.

“Affirmative, we have a QRT ready to pick you all up. Forwarding the coordinates now. I expect a full report when you get back Agent Prince.” The male voice said.

“Yes sir. Out.” Prince replied with a roll of her eyes.

Decker started up the Humvee and took his position behind the lead vehicle followed by the two armored trucks and the last two vehicles taking up the rear of the convoy. After picking up Eagle 2 from his perch, Prince started to get an uneasy feeling, especially as they passed Wadi Halfa. For one their radios were getting spotty and second there were a few unsavory dust clouds in the distance. Like they were being followed by something or someone. Prince looked to Decker who felt it too, he got on the radio and told everyone to remain extra vigilant.

As the convoy neared the border, Prince checked her radar and found a blip that stood out. She checked her mirrors and found a dark shape in the air right behind them, she focused enough on it to see something detach off the side of it that immediately made her eyes widen. She grabbed her radio and shouted to all vehicles;

“INCOMING!”

But it was too late. A missile arched past her vehicle into the backend of the lead Humvee, the force sent the Humvee flipping forward onto its back before rolling down the road on it’s side before blocking the road. Decker slammed on the brakes as did the rest of the convoy but before they could back up to go around it, a second missile blew up the last vehicle boxing in the convoy.

“HQ this is Rogue Squad, we are under attack! I Repeat, We are under attack! Rogue 2 and 4 are down, we’re under heavy enemy fire, we need backup Immediately!” Prince shouted into her radio.

“Copy all Rogue Squad, a QRT is on it’s way. ETA is 10 minutes.” HQ replied.

“We'll all be dead in 10 minutes.” Prince said, hanging up.

“Fucking asshats.” She said before getting out of the Humvee.

Decker got out with her just as the shape passed over them, by its general shape and the odd looking cockpit, Prince determined it as a Russian Mi-24, also called a Hind. Prince ran towards the last escort as Decker opened the back of one truck and began arming one of the HAMR rifles. Eagle 2 got out of his Humvee, covering a pair of his squad mates rescuing the crew from the Humvee Rogue 2, the turret gunner was dead, as was the driver, but the passenger barely managed to crawl out from the wreck. Prince and two squadmates fired at the Hind with their rifles as it turned towards them. The turret gunner fired his 50 cal Browning machine gun but the Hind fired at the Humvee making the others dive for cover as the Humvee was shredded by the Hind’s cannons. 

Just as Decker armed his HAMR rifle, he and the squad fired at Hind as it turned to come around, the HAMR’s energy projectile went in a straight line but missed by mere feet. Eagle 2 fired his rifle and while his shot was closer he saw it just skim under the tail through his scope. They fired again in tandem, both of their shots either barely missed or grazed it’s hull, Eagle 2’s shot was so close he saw sparks come off it’s metal body.

“Goddamn it guys, Take it out!” Prince shouted as she reloaded.

“He’s moving too fast it’s not that fucking easy!” Eagle 2 replied.

He tried to get another shot but an alert blocked his scope view, his rifle was too hot, the energy output too much. He tried to pull the lever to vent the barrel, but the Hind now faced the trapped convoy. It’s twin rocket pods fired several rockets towards them, they didn’t hit the trucks but rather the area around them, sending dust and shrapnel at the team as they were all either knocked out from the shockwaves or wounded by the shrapnel. The Hind landed nearby, it’s rotor clearing the dust and smoke around it as the doors opened on both sides. Out stepped eight men in black tactical gear with gas masks covering their faces, they quickly shot any survivors who were still dazed after the rockets. 

They split into two groups of four with one group raiding the trucks and the other taking the HAMR rifles. One of the men grabbed Eagle 2’s rifle only for it to power up, he didn’t have time to regret it as Eagle 2 pulled the trigger, the shot went through the man’s midsection effectively splitting him in half. Unfortunately the next shot came from another one of the men who shot Eagle 2 in the head. Prince barely had her eyes open and her ears were still ringing, but she saw the quick scuffle that lasted barely a couple seconds. She saw the first group grab the cases that contained the HAMR rifles, and the second get the other two rifles before one man grabbed another, she guessed they exchanged words as the second group of now three men started shooting her downed teammates in their heads.

When one moved to Decker she quickly got out her Desert Eagle and shot that one in the chest, Decker snapped to reality long enough to pull his own sidearm to start firing at the last two, killing them easily. He tried to fire at the group as getting on the Hind, but they returned fire, hitting Decker just under his vest. Prince emptied her Desert Eagle at the Hind but it still took off. Before the Hind could turn to leave it suddenly was hit by two rockets, Prince was quickly surprised by the calls of the Bultungin clan on top of the trucks behind her. Once the Hind crashed the doors opened only for the survivors to be shot or impaled by the Bultungin clan members. While some of the members began feeding on the bodies, the Alpha showed herself and grabbed the rifle cases from the Hind. Prince watched as she took the HAMR rifles, inspecting one, but then dropped them at Prince’s feet.

“A kindness, from one warrior to another.” She said before barking orders to her clan.

No sooner did they leave did the QRT arrive with three Ospreys. She shielded and comforted Decker as two Ospreys landed, the third circled and kept a lookout with it’s guns ready to fire should trouble show up again. The med team got Decker inside their Osprey as Prince told the team to grab the bodies from the Hind, three of which weren't touched by the Bultungin clan. Once the bodies were loaded up, the trucks were manned by men from the QRT, who continued to drive them to the border and to the rendezvous point. 

Back at HQ, Prince looked through the glass of Decker’s room in the Medical Ward; she knew he was in bad shape. Decker took two bullets through his abdomen, which penetrated his small intestine, and though one bullet hit him in the chest, his vest ensured it didn’t penetrate but the bruising probably felt worse. He was breathing on his own which gave some hope for recovery, but he had lost a lot of blood. Thankfully he had the best doctors in the Ward making sure the worst was the least of his problems. She mustered up some strength before entering the room, standing next to his bed, her hand gently taking his.

“I am so sorry, Jon.” She said quietly, the only way to avoid her voice cracking.

His hand lightly squeezed hers in response to her words, which gave her some comfort and hope. As she stayed with Decker, in another part of the facility, a meeting was being held. The Overseer, a man of average height and build, dressed in a black suit, and a look of concern adorned his face, was anxious to hear what happened.

“Now that we are all here, what do we know?” He asked.

“Rogue Squad was nearly wiped out, of the fifteen man team only two survived. The Team Leader Dominika Prince and Agent Jonathan Decker, who is still in intensive care. Before the QRT was able to arrive, Agent Prince said that the Bultungin used their new weapons to bring down an Mi-24 attack helicopter.” One man spoke up, his equipment identified him as the head of security.

“So the Russians were responsible for attempting to take our rifles?” The Overseer asked.

“I wish it were that simple. Agent Prince ordered these three bodies to be retrieved. Two of them had South African visas and the third had a British passport, aside from that we know nothing about them. Except they all had the same tattoo.” The second man, an older man in a white lab coat, said, giving the Overseer three pictures that depicted a right hand, palm forward with a crown in the middle of it. The Overseer, visibly shaken, stood up from his desk.

“Call every facility in the US, Canada, the UK, Europe, Everywhere. Distribute these photographs in encrypted files directly to their servers. And call a meeting of all team leaders and recall all Agents from the field.” He commanded. The man in the lab coat left but the Head of Security stayed to ask;

“What’s the matter?”

“If these are in fact real, then an old enemy is making his move for the first time in over a decade.” The Overseer said.

“You don’t mean…” The Head of Security started.

“Yes…the Tyrant’s Hand is back.” The Overseer finished before lighting a cigarette. Knowing that, their opponent was just getting started.