A/N: Since it's the week of exams, the only stuff I'm gonna have the time to put up is what I've already completely written and edited. Afterwards, I'll start writing new chapters for this (and, for anyone who reads both, Anonymous) again, and we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program... or whatever.

I'm actually really proud of this chapter... despite its shortness. It was written out on paper, and that tends to be a common thread in what I actually physically write; good, but not nearly as long as I thought it was. Well... that, and I really, really wanted to end on this line. So the entire conversation is kinda written around it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy until I get around to writing the next chapter. I promise it'll be longer, and hopefuly just as good.


"Tucker?" The word came, unbidden, out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Of course he heard. Of course he turned around. Of course Danny was too shocked to contemplate flying off. That was just Danny's luck.

"Danny?" Tucker asked, squinting through his glasses. For a moment, they were both frozen. Before either of them really had a chance to process the swirling thoughts and emotions running rampant through their heads, Tucker raised his arm and tapped a few keystrokes on the gauntlet-like mechanism strapped across his wrist. Before Danny could think to move in one direction or the other, Tucker was somehow floating towards him. There was a moment of instinctive panic before his eyes caught on the gleam of a jetpack and a spark of anger took over.

"Tucker, what are you doing here? You're, what, in your eighties? The Ghost Zone is dangerous; you can't just go traipsing around anymore."

His once-upon-a-time best friend made a face somewhere between a grimace and a sneer. "Only seventy-six, actually. Luckily, I've been too busy to get old."

Danny wasn't sure if it was a jab at him or not, but he wasn't amused either way. While a lot of things in the Ghost Zone had gotten better, it could be worse in some parts. It was no place for an aging man, even one with as much gear and smooth-talking ability as Tucker.

"You'd better have a good reason for coming here" Danny, still floating, crossed his arms.

Tucker was straining to keep the sarcastic good humor on his face. "What, not glad to see me?" The glare that the possibly-now-more-than-halfa leveled him with was the death of his sardonic smirk. His expression grew just as grave as Danny's, and for a moment both men looked their age. Not literally, of course-the ghost frozen in time and the human who used every tool in his wide arsenal to fight against it-but seventy-six years of hardship sparkled behind each set of eyes.

"I'd say I'm just not the one you want to see, but I don't think there's anyone you want to see anymore." Tucker sighed, and, as predicted, Danny neither confirmed nor denied his statement. He wasn't sure his friend knew anymore why he was hiding.

"Well, hurry up. Let's get this over with."

The somber moment over, Tucker shoved away his pity for his friend. He hadn't come just to be a ghost of the past. And, he grimaced to himself, he'd be lying if he dais the pun wasn't intended. "I'm here to tell you something. I know you don't want to hear it, but I think you need to."

Despite the authority to his words, there was a definite question to his voice. Struggling for a moment, Danny eventually answered with a terse "fine."

Tucker took a deep breath, not sure where to start. A gap of more than thirty years lay between them. Readying the elephant gun, he took his first shot. "Sam hates you."

It wasn't where he'd meant to start, but it would do. If the flicker of expression on Danny's face meant anything at all, then it was already going better than expected. Tucker let it sink in for a moment, attempting to stay away from the pity danger zone as he watched his friend's expression close off.

"So?"

Tucker raised an eyebrow, easily seeing through the façade. "She's dated other guys. Even got engaged once."

And… there. Danny's already green eyes surged with energy and rage, and his fists clenched forcefully at his sides. "And?" His voice had a cold edge to it that Tucker had heard only a handful of times before. As a teenager, he would have shied away from the bone-chilling power. Now, however, he stood tall. He hadn't been the cowardly, wimpy sidekick for decades.

Danny nearly growled when Tucker refused to even do so much as flinch. "Ahy are you telling me this now?" He snapped, his entire form shaking, head-to-toe. "Too little, too late."

"Because," Tucker replied, looking his friend straight in the eyes, "she never really moved on."

Danny, his eyes now closed and his face twisted up in some strange attempt to keep the anger in, sounded surprisingly hollow when he spoke. As if the last bit of life inside him had been shattered. "What do you want me to do about it, Tuck? It's not like I can just whisk back and pick up where we left off. She's almost in her eighties and I still look straight out of college! Until you came to talk to me, I wasn't even sure if she was alive."

Tucker took an uneasy breath, looking away. Now he understood why he hadn't started with it. This was the hard part. "Yeah, about that…" he trailed off, having to haul his mind back on track. "That's kinda what I wanted to tell you. She's dying."