I've had two people bite my head off for not letting them know what's going on. It's great fun, actually, watching them squirm because they have no clue what's happening. I feel so evil. This is fun.

Two: The Phantom that Time Remembered


Jazz covered for me.

I listened at the door to my room as she told Mom and Dad how she'd come home and I was asleep in bed and that I'd probably been there the whole day.

The voices of my parents made my stomach churn and I buried my face in my pillow, curling into a tiny ball.

Clockwork was right, it was hurting too much. I thought I was going to be sick.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and quickly feigned sleep. I didn't feel like talking to them just yet. The door opened.

"Shhh, Jack, he's sleeping." I heard Mom whisper and then her soft footsteps came towards me, "He looks so peaceful." She brushed her fingers across my forehead; no doubt checking my temperature; and a wave of sorrow so strong washed over me that I couldn't stop the little moan of anguish that slipped past my lips.

"Hush." She kissed my forehead and tucked my blankets closer around me, "There, that should chase away those pesky nightmares." I heard the smile in her voice.

"And the ghosts!" Dad said loudly.

"Jack! Shush!" Mom scolded and I heard her voice getting farther away, "Let's let him sleep." The door closed.

My whole body was shaking with the effort of keeping my sobs quite, tears streamed from my eyes, staining my pillow, and my heart ached terribly. Even having my physical time turned back was nothing compared to the torment I was suffering. Why did it hurt so much more to return than it had to leave?

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling through watery eyes. Now that I was back, the prospect of doing what I had to do seemed, in all honesty, irrelevant. Why should I have to suffer? Why should I have to subject my family to something I'd been trying to keep from them for years.

I sat up and looked across my room to stare down my reflection in the mirror. One blue eye and one green eye, both red and puffy from tears, stared back at me. I'd simply told my parents that being around all their ecto-equipment seemed to be having side effects. Of course they'd flipped and tried to "uncontaminate" me but Jazz had convinced them otherwise; the "contamination" wasn't hurting me and as long as I kept a safer distance then I wouldn't have to worry about any further effects. It was also a great way to make them keep their ghost hunting gear away from me.

A clattering from downstairs took my attention and the smell of cooking food wafted up to me. There was no way I was staying in bed if Mom was cooking. I hadn't had Mom's food in too long not to let it go now. I jumped out of bed and phased through a couple of walls to the bathroom. Once there, I splashed some water on my face to clear out my eyes and phased out again.

I crept quietly down the stairs and stood at the threshold to the kitchen that doubled as a dining room, just at the edge of the light. I waited. Part of it was tact and the other was just a part of me holding myself back.

Ever perceptive Jazz saw me first.

"Danny," She said and Mom and Dad turned around to look, "Are you feeling better?"

"Uh," Words got stuck in my throat as I stared into the faces of my parents, "Um, yeah…I am. A…a little sleep was all I needed, I guess." A wavering smile traced my lips and I walked into the warm kitchen, sitting down at my usual spot at the table.

"Here, Danny, have some soup." Mom placed a steaming bowl in front of me and I eyed it. She noticed and smiled, "No, there's no ectoplasm in it this time." She turned to Dad, "I made sure of it."

"What?" Dad asked in his usual clueless manner.

Clueless.

The word struck a cord somewhere inside me and the mouthful of soup I'd just stuck in my mouth went down my throat in a dissatisfied lump.

Sam.

My stomach churned. There'd be no stopping it this time.

I dropped my spoon and ran towards the first floor bathroom with my hands clamped over my mouth.

I hid in the bathroom with the door locked long after I'd stopped vomiting into the toilet, ignoring my parents asking me if I was alright through the closed door.

How could I be alright? How could anything be alright? I wasn't ready. There was no way I would ever be ready! I had to go back to Clockwork and tell him I couldn't do it! I quit! I'd go back to the Inbetween and stay there! I couldn't do it! I couldn't do it! I—!

Something struck me in the side of the head and I fell with a crash to the tile floor. At the same moment, I registered the fact that the thing in my chest was warm with a heat that was not my own. It was activating because time had stopped.

"Daniel!" Clockwork loomed over me and I shrank back. I couldn't help it. He would always be more powerful than I was, "Shame on you, selfish Phantom!" He'd called me that once before, "Shame! You're acting like a pampered coward! Your time in the Inbetween was supposed to train you but you have become soft!" He drove the end of his staff into my stomach and made me choke in agony.

"S-shut up!" I snarled, coughing, "You d-don't get it! It HURTS!" I grabbed the staff in my hands and shoved upwards, rolling out of the way before he could hit me again. A trail of silver-white mist dissipated behind me as I switched into my ghost form, "You thought it would be easy! I thought it would be easy! It wasn't EASY!"

I spun into a roundhouse kick aimed at the Master of Time's head but he grabbed my ankle and threw me against the wall. Cracks spread across it as my body impacted with the hard surface. I launched myself off the wall, screaming in rage, and charged my fists with ectoplasm.

Clockwork evaded every one. I knew he would. Clockwork didn't fight often but when he did he was more formidable than any other opponent in the Ghost Zone or the Human World. I don't know how he learned to fight or who taught him—if anyone—but I normally would have known better than to strike out against him.

But I was angry, hurt, and full of anger. And I had no one else to blame but the ghost in front of me.

I swung a punch. He dodged. I flipped head-over-heels, bringing down my foot in an angry downward kick that could have broken an enemy's arm. Clockwork knocked my leg aside with his staff, grabbed a fistful of my shocking white hair, and slammed me face-down into the floor. I cried out in pain and felt blood spray past my lips and from my nose. A heavy boot slammed into the middle of my back, pinning me down.

"Listen to me while you're down there squirming!" The Master of Time snarled, "If you don't do this then you doom the human and ghost races!"

"Why can't you stop them!?" I shouted back and then screamed as the pointed heads on his staff jammed into the back of my neck, forcing my face into a pool of blood.

"Because they are my brothers!" Clockwork roared, digging his heel in further, "I cannot destroy my kin!"

I tried not to cry. I really did. But the tears would not be held back any longer. I sobbed into the red and green blood that was still seeping out of my nose and split lip, bubbles of the liquid popping out of my nostrils as I blubbered.

Clockwork's foot left my back and his staff left my neck but I didn't get up. I was too miserable to even try. The Ghost of Time's arms hauled me into a sitting position and he awkwardly wrapped his cloak around me, hoisting me into his lap. I bawled into his shoulder, watching through blurred vision as my tears streaked through the green and red that was staining the glass casing on his internal clock.

"Danny, I'm sorry." He sounded like he meant it too and he looked just the part in his old man form, "You're right, I don't get it. I don't know how much this hurts you. But I did warn you, did I not?" I nodded, still crying too much to say anything, "Tomorrow. I will give you until tomorrow and if you do not do it then I'm afraid I'll have to make you."

"I hate you so much sometimes." I choked out, wiping tears, snot, and blood from my face with the back of my gloved hand, "Why can't you just hand me all the answers instead of forcing them out of me?"

"Because you would never learn that way." He scolded and sighed as he looked around the bathroom, "See what you've already done in your short temper. Destroyed the bathroom, shame on you." He was teasing me now.

"I'm not paying the repair bill." I responded, rubbing my eyes and taking in a shaking breath, "You fix it for once."

"I suppose I owe you that much." Clockwork dumped me unceremoniously off his lap, his legs flickering into a ghostly tail, and waved his staff through the air in lazy circles, "You could do this yourself, Danny."

"Psh, if I knew how to clean a room I wouldn't have spent so much time redecorating my house in the Inbetween." I muttered, spitting a glob of blood out onto my hand, "You can clean me up to. Consider it payment for all the crap I still have to go through."

"Hmph, selfish Phantom." He muttered as the cracks on the walls faded and the blood wiped itself off the floor, "But your family would wonder how you got so badly hurt in a bathroom, I suppose."

"Having ectoplasm in my blood doesn't help." I pointed out as he spun his staff in my direction. The healing energies washed over me and I felt my wounds mending. I could have healed myself but I knew Clockwork felt as guilty as I was. Starting a fight was not the right thing to do.

"Danny, no one can do this but you." The Ghost of Time rested a hand on my shoulder, "It is your destiny."

"Yeah, well, destiny sucks." I grumbled, pushing my hair out of my face as it faded from white to black with my transformation-induced mist, "See you around, right?"

"I'll be watching." Clockwork said evasively, "Time In." The heat on my chest vanished along with the Master of Time.

"Danny?" I looked towards the door as Mom's voice came through, "Danny, are you alright?"

"Yeah, just…after effects." I replied lamely, opening the door and smiling up at her, "Guess my stomach wasn't ready for food yet."

"That's alright," Mom gave me a hug that I returned, "Do you want to sleep it off and I'll bring you something to eat later?"

"S-sure." I stuttered and then gave my dad a hug, "Thanks, Mom."

Mom smiled and a warm happiness flooded through me. Home. How could I have been so stupid as to think about leaving? I trailed up the stairs to my room ad shut the door. Then I switched on my bedside lamp, crouched down beside my bed, and phased my arm through the mattress. After a bit of digging, I found what I was looking for.

My journal.

It was a plain, black notebook with my DP symbol painted on rather haphazardly with some white-out I'd stolen from Jazz. I'd been filling it with every detail of my fights since the accident in the lab three years ago.

Now it was time to write in the events of the past seven years.

I pulled a pen out of my desk, sat cross-legged on my bed, and started to write…

I didn't go to sleep until around four in the morning.

When I'd heard my mother's footsteps coming up the stairs, I'd flicked off my light, stashed my pen and notebook under my pillow, and feigned sleep. She'd shaken me "awake" and I'd eaten the bowl of soup, the roll, and gulped down the water before pretending to fall back into Dreamland. As soon as she'd gotten halfway down the stairs, I'd whipped out the notebook and turned the light on again.

When I woke up, it was nearly noon. I stretched, yawned, and slid out of bed. As soon as my bare feet touched the carpet floor, my mind screamed at me to turn around and go back to bed. But I couldn't. Today was the day. Thank goodness for summer vacation.

I pulled on a pair of blue jeans, tugged on some socks, and yanked on my favorite red and white T-shirt. Then I thudded down the stairs, being as noisy as possible, and snatched a piece of Jazz's toast from her plate, dodging her punch with a grin.

"I'm going out to see Tucker and Sam." I said, "Tell Mom and Dad, will you?"

"Like they're going to leave the basement." Jazz replied and I laughed, walking out the front door and into the sunlight.

I wolfed down the piece of toast as I walked down the sidewalk, organizing my thoughts as I went.

No, I decided, Not today. I turned my crystal blue eyes towards the sky and pleaded with the clouds drifting lazily across it, Please, give me one more day. One more day to have fun and be myself. Please. One more day.

I stopped outside Tucker's door and stared at it for a long while. It was so familiar. I raised a hand and ran my fingers across the handle, the wood, the knocker, and the numbers down the doorframe. All so familiar and yet it felt like they were from a distant time that I had become detached from. I knocked and a few seconds later the door was opened by my best friend.

"Danny! Jazz said you were sick!" He grinned and I couldn't resist smiling back.

"I got better fast." I answered, "You know me!"

"Ha!" Tucker bounded out of his front door, shutting it behind him, and walked down the steps with me back onto the sidewalk, "So, what's the occasion?"

"We're gonna pick up Sam and hang out." I stated, "The Nasty Burger, the arcade, the park, anywhere! Hang out time!"

"Sweetness!"

"Race you!" I shouted and ran ahead of him, knowing I would win. Tucker was still out of shape and I beat him to Sam's house easily enough. I pounded on the front door, out of breath with laughter, and got her mother.

Great… I thought sourly, straightening up with a smile, "Hey, is Sam home? We were gonna hang out at the Nasty Burger."

"Samantha is in the middle of piano lessons, at the moment." Sam's mom said coldly and I resisted the urge to scowl at her, "If you come back later I'm sure she'll—."

There was the obnoxiously loud sound of numerous piano keys being hit all at the same time, two voices shouting at one another, and then Sam barged past her mother with an angry expression plastered across her face.

"Samantha Manson! Don't you dare—!" Sam slammed the door behind her and turned her heated lilac eyes on me.

"Let's get out of here before she decides to come after me." I grabbed her hand and Tucker's wrist and dragged them into a nearby ally.

"Okay, Nasty Burger's out, that's the first place they'll look for us." I said, ticking things off on my fingers, "So it's the arcade, the park, aaannnddd…" I chewed on my lip for a moment or two, "The mall, definitely the mall."

"We're flying, right?" Sam asked, "'Cause I'm not going back their for my bike."

"Flying. I'm Goin' Ghost!" I confirmed and let the ghostly mist wash over me, transforming me into my ghost half. I saw the shocked expression on my friends' faces and realized that this was the first time they'd seen that form of transformation. I'd been doing it for so long that I hadn't even though about it, "Uhhhhh…power surge?"

"You have some explaining to do." Sam poked me hard in the chest and I blushed, rubbing the back of my neck with my gloved hand.

"Alright, alright, but not today. Tomorrow." I said softly, hanging my head, "Tomorrow, I swear you'll know everything."

"I'll hold you to that." Tucker said seriously, "But for now…arcade!"

I smiled at him, looped my arms around his and Sam's waists, and took to the air. I was determined to have fun today.

It might be my last chance to.

I came home exhausted but happy. Tucker, Sam, and I had spent the day rampaging through Amity Park—figuratively speaking. The arcade had been a beautiful sort of chaos; we'd beaten the high scores on two racing games, three shooting games, and played laser tag so many times in a row that the person behind the desk had told us that if we didn't stop playing they were going to ban us.

Then we'd hit the park for lunch; stuffing our faces with fries, hotdogs, and milkshakes, laughing all the while. After we'd finished eating, the three of us had kicked around a half-deflated soccer ball we'd found until it smacked some little ten year old in the back and made him start shouting at us. In swear words. We'd bailed before his mother could show up.

The mall had been a much better experience. We'd walked into every store, joking and laughing, and had actually gotten kicked out of Limited Too for making obscene comments about the clothes. It was horrible fun; Tucker and I had to be dragged out of Game Stop by Sam and then we had to do the same for her in Hot Topic. It was a great laugh.

"You smell like flowers and oranges." Jazz commented as I flopped down on the couch next to her and flicked on the television, much to her annoyance.

"Oh, yeah, Sam took one of those perfume samples from the lady outside that one perfume store and rubbed it all over me." I said, chuckling at the memory, "If it's any consolation, I dared Tucker to go into Victoria's Secret and he got chased out by a couple of screaming preps."

Jazz and I howled with laughter. It felt good to laugh but my face was starting to hurt from a whole day of it. After we'd settled down, I leaned back against the cushions with a contented sigh.

"You aren't doing anything tomorrow, are you?" I asked and Jazz shook her head, "Good. Sam and Tucker are coming over. I need to talk to them, and to you, and to…Mom and Dad."

The tone in my voice made her look up, "You're going to tell them, aren't you?"

"I have to, Jazz." I whispered, staring without seeing at the television screen, "I can't keep hiding forever." I cracked my back, stretching my hands towards the ceiling, and jumped off the couch, "I'm hitting the sack, see you in the morning."

"Danny!" Jazz shouted after me as I took the stairs two at a time, "Danny get back here and turn the TV off! Danny!"

I slammed my door shut behind me, slid out of my clothes, and wriggled under the covers. A small, well aimed ectobeam at the light switch drained the room of light.

I closed my eyes and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

Well, that's the end of chapter two. And I know you're all still royally pissed at me for not letting you know what's going on. Just wait for, I think, chapter four. Maybe three. I dunno, we'll see how this works out.

Anyway, you did get some little bits of what's going to happen later on if you paid close enough attention. If anyone wants to take some stabs at what's happening, feel free to leave them in the reviews.

So thanks for reading, please review, don't kill me, and byes!