He could not remember how he had died. It was too long ago to remember and as he had to find as a ghost, a being wandering in afterlife for eternity, the feeling of time and memories slowly slipped from your grasp no matter how hard you tried to hold onto them. All that was present in his mind when he tried to recollect the events of the day he went from hybrid to full-fledged ghost was the feeling of agonizing pain. And since he did not want to feel so much pain, he let it drop.
It could have been Skulker, who was once again trying to get his "pelt" but he dismissed it since Skulker was still hunting him down on every occasion, meaning that he had yet to achieve his goal. It could have been the Wisconsin ghost, in one of their fights or maybe in one of these secret labs he maintained in every residence. It would add up with the pain. It could have been a ghost-hunter, his parents maybe, unknowing of their own son's nature. It could have been a freak accident for all he knew. But he didn't and it bothered him, even if only a bit. What he knew for sure was that he had died an unnatural death and way too early for his liking.
He still possessed the looks of a teenager so he had died when he still was one. It angered him for a reason he couldn't fathom. Maybe because he had tried to remain in the realm of the living only to realize that it was near impossible for him to stay outside the swirling green world that was now his home. He would come out of the portal just fine and in a matter of seconds his strength would leave him while in the ghost zone he was powerful beyond imagination. By now even foes that had accounted him as weak in his human days tried to keep their distance – except for the greatest hunter of the ghost zone of course.
But there was also something else beside the anger of being robbed of his home. It was a feeling of hurt and desperation. He had hoped someone would come and look for him. The people whose faces he could barely remember, never showed up even once. The booo-merang he had expected to hit him one day in the back of his head never came. He had waited, for an indefinite amount of time until he got tired of waiting, until the names and the faces were nothing more than a blur and ancient connections held no more value.
And so, with no real obsession, no goal and no people that held him dear Danny wandered the ghost zone, helping whenever someone was in need of help, not even trying to make himself a lair. Even if it was now his home, he would never admit it to himself or anyone else. He didn't want to see this place where most of his kin did not want him as a place of refuge. He knew that this was not entirely true. There was still Frostbite, who'd be more than willing to extend a "warm" arm of welcome but still…it just wasn't the same.
It was kind of hypocritical of him to say something like this considering that he barely remembered his former life but his core still clung to these old feelings that had existed when he had still been human. The warm feeling he had when he had returned into a strangely shaped house with people who would give him the appreciation and love he lacked in this world. Danny had not cried in a long time. There really was no point to it, since it would not get him out of his predicament but there were times when he was desperate enough to let a tear slip from his eye.
But like today, when he yearned for what he lost, when the self-imposed loneliness and unexplainable abandonment from his loved ones stung like a knife in what used to be his heart, he couldn't help but let that miserable feeling wash over him. And when it was over he would just go on in this swirling green abyss until eventually he would entirely forget about himself, existing solely for the purpose of still existing.