Disclaimer: Don't own the characters; don't own the music; just own the story.

Author's Notes: This 6 part story takes place post Phantom Planet. While writing the story, it sort of developed it's own little soundtrack from songs already on my Ipod so I figured I might as well include it. The title of each chapter is also the title of the song on the "soundtrack" that relates to it. I've included the artist name (along with another related song) under "music suggestions" above the title of each chapter. If you have the time and/or are looking for some new music, I suggest listening to each song as you read each chapter. (Sadly, there was no way for me to sync the songs and the music, as everyone reads at their own pace)

If you're not, it's fine to totally ignore the musical aspect. The story was meant to work fine on its own. So now, without any further adieu--

Music suggestions:

Open Your Eyes- Snow Patrol

Eulogy- The Hereafter

Giving Up the Ghost

Part I: Open Your Eyes

He should have been paying attention. He knew he should be; he wanted to be. It was important, especially to him. But he couldn't listen to the words; he couldn't understand their meaning. All he could do was what he had done for the better part of the last three days: sit, stare, and try desperately to make some kind of sense of it all.

There were some in the crowd that may have thought his wide-eyed vacant expression meant he was daydreaming about something better, perhaps something more exciting. Those people were the people who didn't know him at all. Everyone who'd met him, seen him, knew anything about him, understood the emotion behind his empty eyes. Disbelief. Utter disbelief.

"…and there is no question she succeeded. She was an individual, unlike anyone else…but that just makes us miss her all the more." The speaker laid a flower down, walked in complete silence from the podium, and took his seat next to the empty-looking boy. They caught each other's eyes for a moment: one pair urging, the other no more than opened. The speaker's eyes closed under exhausted eyelids that tried hard to keep back tears.

That small motion pulled Danny up out of his trance for the briefest moment, so that when his friend's eyes opened again, he was able to manage a small shake of the head and wince, clarification to Tucker that he couldn't speak…whether or not he wanted to.

He would always remember the rest of the ceremony as unreal blur of time, color, and sound. It felt like the strangest kind of dream, the kind you're so lost inside you can't even hope to wake up from. He only started to come to after they had driven away.

The car ride was silent, and Danny hated it. He wanted his dad to crack a joke or Jazz to yell at him or his mom to play a road game. Anything but silence. Silence gave him time to think, and he knew he could only hold the truth at bay for so long. Sooner or later, it was going to have hit him. He wasn't sure how he would survive the blow.

The silence continued to the doorstep where Maddie Fenton, fumbling with her keys, broke into soft huffs of tears. Jack put a comforting arm around her and finished opening the door. Danny was the last to enter. The house was different; he was aware of that much. He'd spent the last few nights on the couch, fearing the dose of reality that would come from going into his room. He wasn't letting himself think about it, but it was still buried inside him somewhere deep, nestled in every cell like a virus, and every moment he felt sick enough to die. He climbed onto the couch and went to turn on the TV. Jazz sat down on the coffee table in front of him, obstructing his view.

The look on his sister's face made the sick feeling in his stomach grow. Sensible, logical Danny, who had been hiding since The Day, squirmed. He knew what she was going to do. She took hold of his hand.

"Danny, I love you so much," she started shakily.

Oh god, no. Please no, the Danny that had been hiding pleaded desperately from within himself.

As if Jazz had heard the silent plea, tears began making tiny trailways down her cheeks. "I have to do this. This…what you're doing…is not healthy. I'm your big sister, and I'm supposed to take care of you…and I don't want you to--but this isn't good for you. I promised Mom and Dad if you were still like this after the funeral…"

Danny focused his eyes intensely at the blank TV behind Jazz and tried to force himself back into a daze. Jazz was crying harder now, she moved beside him on the couch. "Look at me, Danny…." she snorted an scandalized laugh through tears. "God, do you think this is easy for me?" She squeezed his hand tight with both of hers. "Danny, you have to look at me."

He did have to. His sister's eyes locked on his own and his insides were thrown into complete chaos. He thought he might vomit. Jazz wanted to close her eyes but knew she had to connect with him somehow. She gathered her courage and said as sternly as she could, "Danny: Sam is dead."

Each sound hit as if it were a hundred pound weight flung onto his chest. What struck him harder though was that he knew it was the truth. In one last ditch attempt to keep it all away, he shook his head and whimpered, "N-no…she…no." It was too late. He had broken and so had the flood gates that kept it all back.

He started crying lightly at first, but within seconds he had progressed into hysterics. Jazz, crying harder as well, hugged him tightly. She felt his ragged, shaking heaves reverberate through her, and she closed her eyes to try and stop her own tears from pouring. "Shh…" she whispered, stroking his back. "It's okay."

His cries seemed to come in cycles. At times he would struggle frantically, furiously against her, clawing at blankets around them, enraged at himself and the world. But she would hold strong until his body went limp again and his cries became weak whimpers of "No, no, no." She wasn't sure how long it took, maybe hours, but eventually, he cried out every bit of energy in him, and he could do nothing more than to fall asleep, though his body still seemed to quiver with every breath in. She stayed with him, determined to be there when he woke up. As the lights in the houses around them shut off and other families went to bed, she stroked his hair gently and let her own tears silently flow.