A/N: Here marks where the story ties in with the Danny Phantom series itself.

This arc holds slight spoilers for various novels (such as 1984) and films. I have attempted to keep these as ambiguous as possible. These are only to keep things contemporary with our time, as the show takes place in the U.S. in a relatively modern (mid-2000s, if not futuristic) setting.

Book 2 – Turn

2012

Danny collapsed onto the lab floor. It was only chance that he fell that way and didn't fall out of the Portal into the Ghost Dimension, or the Ghost Zone as his parents called it.

Perhaps the story would be different if he had fallen the other way.

That's not the way we want it;

Thus, it shall not occur.

Sam held a hand up to her mouth in fright. Tucker looked to his friend on the floor and then to the machines running the Portal. All of the levels were normal, the machine stable. It wouldn't be short-circuiting, from what he could tell. He went forward and pulled Danny from the machine. Sam continued to stand in shock.

Their friend's scream had been terrifying, a shrill wail like that of a murder victim from a movie that they had seen, just as the knife dug into her chest. What pain, what intense power, had been coursing through him to make that din erupt from his throat?

"What happened to his hair?" He asked the question out loud, his voice surprising him in its even tone… He did not sound as frightened as he felt.

Sam came forward and helped Tucker turn Danny to his back, a shuddering sigh releasing itself from her lungs as she saw his chest go up and down.

"I don't know, but… He's breathing!" She let a small smile grace her face. "He's alive, Tucker!"

Danny coughed and made a small groan, his eyes closing tighter as though Sam was too loud. Then again…

He shouldn't have heard anything, if his plan had gone correctly. But it had not.

Danny opened his eyes blearily, though he felt as though this was not the real world. Instead he was in an area where there was no scent, distance, or even depth. He was in a place that simply was. The best he could describe it as was an endless plane of white with a floor and ceiling that were invulnerable to being measured. He looked down at himself. His Hazmat suit was still its white with black accents pattern. Hadn't it been reverse earlier?

That would have been my suit.

Danny looked up. The person, the boy that floated about three feet in front of him had the same voice as the one that had spoken in his head before. He had a black Hazmat suit with white gloves, belt, boots and accent about his neck.

An exact opposite of him.

Phantom? He asked, and the world made itself more apparent to him. He did not speak here, or not as he normally did. His mouth opened and his throat vibrated as he normally would, but it was not as loud as the words pushing themselves out of his mind.

Yes.

Phantom, what happened? Where are we?

The spirit – that's what he assumed – bit his lip, as though unsure.

You don't know, do you?

My many apologies, but I don't know. Phantom shook his head.

I figured. Danny sighed. He raised a hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes, letting the cool pads of his fingertips touch his eyelids. The feeling was soothing, letting his troubled mind focus on something else for a few moments, rather than think about-

Am I stress-inducing? Danny opened his eyes and Phantom was only inches away from him. The fourteen-year-old jumped back, stumbling and falling on his backside.

N-No! Just don't surprise me like that! He laughed lightly at the look of concern in the ghost's eyes. All of his previous thoughts disappeared.

What is that? He heard Phantom ask and Danny looked up to see something shining in the white space around them. Several shining objects surrounded them and quickly multiplied. Danny turned a bit to stand and stared at Phantom's hand as its owner offered it. After a few moments, he grabbed it and stood up.

I don't know…

Danny reached towards one of the objects and gently touched its surface. It was like a crystal, the kind hung on chandeliers… It was a wonderful golden colour. He tried to close his fingers around it, but it would not let him, slipping out between the cracks of his fingers before remerging and returning to its original form.

Phantom hummed softly before reaching for another crystal, a blue one. A silver one danced playfully next to it.

Are these belonging to one of us? Or both? Suddenly the gems began to shift through the air, moving to opposing sides of the white space. Many went to one side, while only one remained on the other. It shone brightly, a brilliant torch that made the white space surrounding it look dim.

Danny had only the first one that he had captured by him. He reached for it again and stared at it.

What's going on?

Danny reached for one of the gems among the multitude and he could feel his mom's hand smoothing back his hair, soothing whispers coming from her as Danny felt so ill.

Danny hadn't been ill like that in years. Pulling back his hand, he felt nostalgia as he gazed at many of the gems.

Our memories?

Danny and Phantom both looked to the lone crystal, a silver one, which began to be accompanied with some others. Danny felt nothing from it, but he saw how the ghost looked at in with the same sense of nostalgia and longing he felt.

Silver, green, black, and gold all over Phantom's side began to shine.

It's filling up.

Danny sighed.

All right. He turned to the ghost. We'll have to figure this out, working together. It feels like you're going to be here with me for a while.

Phantom nodded. He reached out to Danny, the human grasping his hand and a jolt of energy sparking between them. Danny made a note to check out what it was later.

You should wake up. I think Samantha and Tucker are calling for you.

Danny closed his eyes and tried to see himself waking up in the lab, trying to get the same sensation that one would feel when trying to shake themselves from a nightmare.

Phantom stayed silent as Danny faded from the memory plane, finally alone.

He sat down and smiled, mourning over a pain that had happened too long ago to really matter but still too fresh to ever heal.

The Birth of Beatrice into the human world was a tragic thing, as it had been only the beginning of a grand chaos.

He began to write on the new, milk-white page, his blue eyes scanning its blankness as it was reduced by the strokes of his pen.

Dear reader,

One may be confused in reading the tale of this boy. After all, what impact could a simple boy have on the universe, a Universe other than his own?

Reader, we may laugh in amusement as you are stumbling over the twists and turns of the importance of the introductions of this tale. You may criticise the way in which the story is told. After all, what better place to begin telling a story than the beginning? If we were to tell you that a person was angry, you would ask what led up to that emotion. That does not mean that the End justifies the Means, or vice versa.

You shall have different readers, already introduced to you.

They read you their bastardized form of Shakespeare; did you read it carefully?

Their words are underlined like so.

They shall guide you through the tale. The question is: are they telling you the story as it happens, before it has occurred, or after all of the events have transpired? Maybe it's just a bedtime story.

Stay wary, reader, as people that lose their way, have a very hard time grabbing the Spider Web they need to climb up to Paradise again.

- 芯身つ

He set down the book and held his head in his hands.

"Papa?" He turned to see his son toddling over to him from the doorway. The tot was bleary-eyed and his pyjamas were loose about his body. "Papa, what are you doing?"

"... A script, just for you."