After the questions-
Enters the Grief-
Denial-
Fear-
Love-
A trigger is pulled-
And after the questions- Death remains-

It's been two years. Two years of fights and fear and so much blame that it feels like they're drowning.

First the questions: What are you doing? Is it drugs? A girl? You can talk to us. You can trust us. We want to trust you. – and never any answers.

Jack is already in bed but she can't make herself join him. Danny's out again. He'll probably be back before dawn, unless he next reappears as a gang-violence victim on the front page. She listlessly turns the page of the Fentonpeeler manual and re-edits the design to match the one currently laid out across the kitchen table.

A thud from the upstairs catches her attention. Grabbing the improved weapon she pads silently up the stairs and cocks an ear for further sign of the disturbance.

Whatever it is it's in Danny's room.

Peeking through the cracked door her eyes widen. Phantom! In her house. Her son's bedroom. Fear grips her heart as she makes the decision to protect her family once and for all. She eases the muzzle through the cracked door, takes aim and fires. As if in slow motion something like a pale shadow peels away from the ghost. Its natural glow gutters like a candle. A moment latter it is completely extinguished.

It turns, sees her where she stands in the now open doorway and seems to deflate before her eyes. They say nothing. She doesn't even know why she's still standing here as if trying to say goodbye. It's just a ghost. It's not like it's a real person. Just a malignant memory.

The ghost fades slowly as if his very makeup is fighting the decomposition. In the moments before the end he never looks away. Somehow she doesn't either.

The grief: Contrary to her nightmares there's no front page obituary, but he never comes home. At first they're sure he'll return. Then they fixate on finding him. By the time they realize they've lost their other child as well, it's too late.

After another full night of searching the ghost zone for signs of a kidnapper, or, though they dread the possibility- a ghostly remnant – of their son, he returns to the house for some breakfast and a brief meeting with Maddie. She'd driven out to another homeless shelter in Chicago the day before and is planning on picking Jazz up from College on the way home.

The house is empty. He makes up something for the girls and sits down to wait.

An hour later he's readying to announce their disappearance to the entire town when Maddie walks through the front door and collapses into his arms.

At first he can't get anything out of her and he's sure that something awful has happened to his Jazzy-pants. Then Maddie remembers the letter. He reads it in silence, fragments catching his eye and reverberating deep within him, imprinting themselves on his mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton - unscientific hatred of ectoplasmic entities - renounce you - don't expect to find me - If you ever realize just what you've done – turn yourselves in - Jasmine Apero

The silence lasts far longer than his tears.

Denial: Despite her warnings they try to find their daughter. When the government, under the guise of it being a public safety hazard, repossesses their house they finally give up. Not because they want to. They just don't have the resources. Leaving Amity is the hardest thing they've ever done. A month later they're back.

Of the many ghosts in her hometown the creepiest are the ones that are still alive. She stares surreptitiously at two of them now as she passes their haunt on her daily jog. She vaguely recognizes them from somewhere else- somewhere brighter- oh right. Their daughter had been one of her yearmates. She wonders what happened. Was it a tragedy? A ghost?

The mom looks up and catches her gaze. She slows to a stop. The woman approaches. There's a light of recognition in her eyes and the ragged ghosthunter asks her if she knew Danny. Who? Shaking her head she disentangles herself from the woman's grasp.

The next day the empty lot is truly empty and she can't decide whether to sign in relief or send the couple a prayer.

Fear: And after all, in the end everyone was right.

She's holding Jazz's scrapbook – the incomplete first version that had been left behind and then forgotten. It's one of the few things they brought with them when the house was condemned.

The pages almost seem to flip themselves so absorbed is she in the magical images of her son – whole and safe – and her daughter – laughing and home. Of course there's many pictures of Phantom in there to but she can't convince herself to change a single letter of the last thing she has of her children.

The last page holds only one picture. In it a grimacing Phantom holds up a smirking Danny. The image seems wrong to her, as if their reactions are the opposite of what they should be. Leaning closer she insects the minutia of their faces: looking for an answer.

That night a fading Phantom invades her dreams and in the memory of her home she watches silently as he turns into her son who utters one word – Mom – before collapsing bonelessly to the floor which turns into a swirling void leaving her stranded in a maelstrom of hostile emotions. A whispers all around her "you're fault. You're fault. You're fault."

The next morning she knows that Jazz was right. She waits until Jack leaves for more fast food sustenance and then she pens a single brief note. She tells him everything. We we're wrong. She tells him she's a monster. I pulled the trigger. She tells him she loves him. I know where Danny is. She tells him not to follow her.

She pulls the trigger.

A/N: So what did you think? Were you able to follow who was narrating what? I've not tried doing 3rd person singular (rather than more or less omniscient) before...

There will be a follow up I'm just not quite sure which direction I want to take it in.

Read and Review! Comments, complements and critiques all are welcome.