I've been a miserably slow writer lately, blame classes. Hopefully once finals are over I'll be able to get more fics up without them sitting half-finished in my folder for months. Summer is too far away.
Danny's trying his best, Valerie. Cut him some slack.
Valerie's not expecting life to return to normal after the incident, and she's not surprised.
Well, mostly.
All the news wants to talk about for the next few weeks is the asteroid, of course. And the ghosts. And the ghost-boy. Whose identity has, somehow, miraculously, not been blown far and wide across television screens. Her father informs her of the unofficial vow of secrecy the eighty-something people at the North Pole took – a pact heavily enforced by the heavy glares and glowing weapons of the Fentons, she's guessing. She's not sure how long that many people can keep their mouths shut, but so far, they've done a good job of it.
She guesses she's happy about it. It would complicate things if she had to confront Danny from the other side of the glass in a lab somewhere deep in the GIW's base.
She's not that worried. He's a ghost. He can take care of himself.
(He'd better.)
Valerie rubs her eyes, trying to banish the thoughts that have been running full-force through her mind since the North Pole. She returns her attention to the English homework she was in the process of filling out. The small print of the sentence diagrams blur before her eyes, mocking her. She resists the urge to slam her head against her desk. Tired or not, she's already way too far behind on her schoolwork – ghost hunting cut drastically into her once-decent grades. She's lucky enough that, having discovered her secret, Mr. Lancer was generous enough to give her the chance to make a lot of it up.
Lucky, she thinks, sullenly, glaring at the textbook. The amount of work he's left her with is ridiculous, even if she does have who knows how many extensions. And she can't even work with someone on it, much less complain to her friends about it – the homework's an entirely different assignment then what they completed about a month ago.
There is one person she could work with, of course. But with their relationship a mess of undefinable sharp edges and hot spots, she'd written off that idea within minutes.
Valerie sighs, her eyes straying back to the muted TV. The coverage of the asteroid incident is still playing 24/7, the ghost boy – Danny's – picture plastered at the edge of the screen while an exhausted reporter continues to read reports.
Despite the general chaos and rather ridiculous blow-up of the media over the ghosts, a lot of good ended up coming out of the entire incident – other than saving the world, of course. Her dad's suddenly doing much better financially, for one. News of his involvement with the asteroid spread fast. Axiom Labs itself had called him, all simpering promises and eager to welcome him back. Ugh. Her dad's still on the fence about that one. She's seen his emails – there's a lot of offers.
And then there's Vlad Masters. Or the lack of him, actually. Amity Park is currently without a mayor, after his sudden disappearance. No one's quite sure where he went, and Valerie isn't sure whether she's glad about that or not. On one hand, it means there's no one with the power to hang over her head anymore, manipulating her and threatening her about ghost hunting. On the other hand, it means she's missing out on a good, solid punch square in the smug liar's face.
Valerie's hand tightens around the pencil. Any anger she has towards Danny for his deception pales drastically in comparison to her fury at Vlad. That he'd been manipulating her, using her for his own selfish ends for so long, drove her crazy. That he'd used her to capture – to torture – Danny, when he knew-
It's the fact that she fell for it, though, that makes her angriest. He sold her everything she wanted to hear, appealed right to her anger and drive for revenge, and she bought it hook, line, and sinker.
She fights the urge to punch something. If she hadn't already had it altered by her dad, she would've been tempted to burn her suit in one fit of indignant fury.
Only tempted, though. She's grown a bit attached. And you never know when you might need a suit like that, in Amity Park.
Valerie sighs, letting her pencil drop against the barely-marked paper. It quickly rolls to the floor, plunking on the ground and bouncing against her foot. She doesn't bother to pick it up, resting her head against the textbook instead. She's never going to get caught up with anything, at this rate. The small black lettering blurs as her vision slides sideways, any motivation whatsoever departing her completely.
Tap, tap.
Valerie shoots up at the sudden sound, her heart rocketing to her throat. Her window's on the sixth story, but that doesn't mean no one can break in. She dives for her bed, yanking her blaster out before aiming it the window. Her curtains are still drawn, so it's left to her imagination who – or what's – knocking at her window. Maybe they've left already-
Tap, tap.
Valerie takes a breath. She edges forward, fingers tight just above the trigger. With her free hand, she grasps the flimsy cotton material of her curtains. She takes another breath. In one sweeping gesture, she yanks the curtains back, kicks open the window, and points her blaster at the intruder's face.
"Get OUT-"
"shitValI'msorryit'smepleasedon'tkillmeyet-"
Valerie freezes, her eyes wide as she stares at Danny, balancing precariously on her ledge, hands raised in an open gesture.
"Danny?!" she asks, incredulous. "What – what are you doing? Here?!"
"I was – uh – I wanted to – talk to you?" Danny says, rushed and nervous. "It's been a few weeks and you did say we could, uh, talk sometime?"
Valerie stares at him. "Why are you at my window?"
"I didn't want to wake your dad up," Danny says, rubbing the back of his head. "And I, uh, didn't think you'd appreciate me using…other means, to get through your door."
Valerie can't suppress the knee-jerk reaction that comes from the reminder, and it's hard to miss the wince that flits across Danny's face. She exhales wearily.
"Okay," she says. "Fine. But you only get fifteen minutes, okay? I've got better things to do."
"Thanks, Valerie," Danny says, giving her a genuine smile. "But – uh, could you maybe stop pointing your blaster at me?"
Valerie starts, flushing as she drops the blaster, tossing it back against her bed. She hadn't even realized she'd still had it.
"Come in before you kill yourself, geez," she says, retreating to her desk. Danny takes a careful step through her window, landing on her carpeting without a sound. He makes no further movement after that, though, staring around her room curiously. Valerie sighs.
"You can sit down, you know."
"Oh – yeah, thanks," Danny says. He glances around, unsure, before gingerly taking a seat on her floor, his back against her bed.
"Just don't get too comfortable," Valerie mutters. She eyes him. "And wasn't the deal that you'd get me coffee?"
"Oh, yeah!" Danny says, quickly reaching for a backpack she hadn't even noticed. "It's kind of late, so I had to improvise – the only thing open was the gas station." He removes two silvery cans from his bag, glancing at the label before handing one to her. "They're not exactly high-quality, but they're good, I promise. Double shot expressos, so lots of caffeine."
"I might forgive how cheap this is for that," Valerie says, the ache in her head practically begging for caffeine.
"The more caffeine, the better," Danny says, opening his. "It's the only way to survive, you know?"
"Yeah," she says, taking a sip of her own. It's cheap, alright, but it's not the worst thing she's ever had. And there's definitely caffeine in it. "About as well as you do, I'm guessing. I don't even know what sleep is anymore."
"Hm," Danny says, swirling his can absently. "Nah, I'm pretty sure I get less sleep than you."
"What, now that you're a celebrity?" Valerie says.
Danny shudders. "Ugh, no. I mean, yes – well, sort of?" He scratches his head. "Phantom's the…celebrity," the word is said with extreme distaste. "So they try, but it's hard to hound me when there's the danger of getting blasted to pieces by the vengeful ghost of the week."
"I wouldn't put it past them."
"Yeah, well, some of them actually value their lives," Danny snorts. "But as long as I transform out of sight, I can escape. That, and the invisibility helps, too. A bit."
"Invisibility," Valerie repeats. There are a hundred questions on her tongue, about ghosts, about powers, what it's like – but she doesn't ask.
She's not sure if it's for his sake or hers.
"Thank you, by the way," Danny says suddenly, staring down at his coffee.
Valerie raises an eyebrow. "What for?"
"For agreeing to the pact. For not telling," he says. "Who I am. It, uh – it means a lot."
Valerie stiffens. "I wouldn't have told anyone, even without the pact," she says, stung by the idea that he'd even think she'd sell him out. "I'm not that kind of person, no matter what you think."
"I didn't think you were – that you would've-" Danny fumbles. "That's not what I meant, Val – erie. You know that."
"Do I?" she says, meeting his stare head-on, clear blue clashing with her own fiery brown.
"You should," Danny says, holding her gaze. "Because you know what having your identity – your real identity – safe means. And you know how much it means not to have that blown any farther than it already is."
Valerie breaks the stare, bringing her coffee just to her lips. "Yeah," she says, staring at her reflection the metal of the can. "I do."
Danny says nothing, but there's an obvious smile on his face as he sips at his own coffee.
She leans back in her chair, her legs tucked beneath her as she watches Danny. It's odd – she's almost missed him.
"This coffee is awful," she says.
"Yeah, but it's not horrible," Danny says. "Improvement?"
Valerie rolls her eyes. "Sure," she says.
"Improvement."