Invisible threads are the strongest ties.

― Friedrich Nietzsche


Sam let the bustle of the Nasty Burger wash over her, sipping at the cool root beer in her hand. The cheerfully greasy atmosphere felt familiar and comforting after the sterile, tense hospital room with its blinding white hallways and gleaming tile floors. A little mundane grunge was just what they needed right now.

"Mocha espresso shake please," Tucker ordered. He slumped against the counter at the cash register. "And make it a double."

The two of them had gravitated here in a moody silence, returning to the fast food hangout more out of habit than hunger. They'd been all smiles leaving Danny, but it hadn't lasted past the elevator ride to the lobby. Neither of them felt like talking about it just yet.

"Back again, Foley?" The redhead behind the register flashed him a winning smile, one gleaming with an array of dental hardware. Her name tag labeled her as Vicky, and she had the unique distinction of being the only female who seemed to enjoy Tucker's less-than-suave attentions. Not that she'd ever gone so far as to date him.

"Just give me my caffeine, okay?"

Vicky huffed and snatched the offered cash, punching in his order.

He shuddered and added, more to Sam, "I don't do hospitals."

"You went to see Danny?" Valerie came in from the back, two paper bags and a milkshake in her hands. She set them on the counter, her hands lingering as she glanced from Sam to Tucker.

"Oh, hey Valerie," Tucker nodded to their classmate. She had her dark curly hair pinned at the nape of her neck, and wore the restaurant's red and white polo.

"Where else would we be?" Sam muttered, reaching for the bag. She didn't want to talk about Danny, she wanted to talk to him. Not that she could blame him for not wanting to talk about… about being studied, but those unsaid things made a void between them. It gnawed at her. How could they be his best friends if they didn't even know what he'd been through?

Her hands closed over the warm, slightly greasy paper bag, but Valerie didn't let go. Sam looked up and found herself studied by sharp green eyes. "How is he?"

She blinked at the open concern in Valerie's gaze. She sometimes forgot that the other girl considered herself a friend; one that really cared about Danny. The half of him she wasn't planning to hunt down and murder, at least.

"The news stopped covering him after he moved out of intensive care," Valerie added, crumpling the top of the bag. "The last thing we got was that interview."

"He's doing okay," Sam said with more confidence than she felt. She freed the paper from Valerie's grip.

Tucker pocketed his change and shifted over to snatch up his mocha shake. He grabbed a straw and stabbed it through the lid. "He looks tons better than last week. They have a surgery thing planned for Monday to fix some of the stuff in his hand, or else he'd be home already." Tucker gave Sam a quick glance, then added, "Look, why don't you go see him yourself? Visiting hours don't end 'til eight on the weekends."

"Can't, second job." Valerie looked away, frowning. "It kind of, uh, gets in the way, you know?"

Tuck nodded. "We get it; more than you think."

Valerie might not know it, but they were more than familiar with her other "job" and its health hazards. A ghost hunter who had been busy building up grudges over the summer would be a magnet for ghost trouble. It probably wasn't the brightest idea for her to hang around in a hospital and put the patients at risk.

As if on cue, Valerie's watch beeped. She stiffened and glanced out the windows, then at the dining area with its sparse late lunch crowd. "Break time, gotta go."

"Again?!" Her co-worker wailed. "You so owe me tips for this, Gray!"

Tucker and Sam exchanged worried glances.

The foundations of the building shook ever so slightly, and a chill just brushed their backs. Sam glanced around; everything had taken on an unearthly cast, even under the bland industrial lighting. Sam grabbed Tucker's elbow and pulled him into the nearest empty booth, ducking low.

An unearthly figure glided down through the ceiling to the place where they'd stood just seconds ago. For a ghost, she wasn't exactly intimidating at first glance: A large, grandmotherly woman, with a pink plaid kerchief tied over her netted white hair, a white apron tied around her waist. She floated up to the counter and gazed down at the petrified cashier.

"C-can I take your order, m'am?" Vicky bleated; customer service training seemed to kick in at the absence of coherent thought.

"Hello there, young lady," the ghost said in a sugary-sweet voice. Vicky relaxed a fraction. Sam and Tucker tensed." Is it true that someone changed the burger recipe?"

"Y-yes, ma'am! The Nasty Burger is now twenty percent less fat and one hundred percent tastier!" Vicky rattled off the sale pitch, then cringed back as the ghost's aura flared dangerously.

Green flames licked over her grey hair as she scowled. "That burger was a classic!"

"Oh man," Tucker muttered under his breath.

Sam crouched a little lower, glancing around the room. At least most of the customers had been further away. They were edging their way in twos and threes toward the back door. "Where's the Thermos?"

The Fenton device had become their go-to solution to ghost problems while Danny was gone; it took a lot more maneuvering and the element of surprise to catch a ghost without beating it first, but she and Tucker had managed. So far. With the smaller ghosts. The Lunch Lady wasn't exactly a picnic to deal with, not if you didn't have ghost powers.

Tuck clutched his mocha shake, tugging his beret a little lower on his head. "I left it at home!"

"If you have a complaint you can fill out our Nasty Comment Card and place it in the-"

Vicky shrieked as the ghost crushed the comment box with a flaming fist. "That's the problem with kids these days, not listening!" Splinters of the doomed box scattered across the counter, leaving little scorched skid marks on the stainless steel surface.

"Tucker!" Sam hissed.

"Hey, it's really heavy. I'll be a hunchback before I'm twenty if I keep carrying it around!"

"At this rate you won't live to see twenty!"

"S-sorry?" Vicky squeaked out, wobbling between terror and confusion.

"Sorry's not good enough!" Burgers flew off the warming racks in the back and orbited the ghost like maddened wasps.

One of the cooked burgers veered off and sped bullet-like toward the cashier. Vicky shrieked and ducked behind the counter. Metalware clanged uselessly together. The burger splatted against the back wall, leaving a burn hole of sizzling grease.

Tucker winced and slouched even lower. "I guess we'll have to rely on Plan B, then." A smile tugged at his lips. "Or as I like to call it, Plan V."

Right on cue, Valerie zoomed in through the open door, clad head to toe in black and red body armor. Crouched low so she could fly through the doorway, the top of her jet sled brushed the upholstery of the booths as she flew across the dining area.

"Hey, ghost!" she shouted out. "You got a beef with the Nasty Burger? You'll have to get through me!"

The Lunch Lady whipped around and growled, gloved fists clenching. There was a rumble and a wave of cold air, then dozens of pink-red frozen patties flew out of the back, coating the ghost in a protective layer of raw meat. Greasy steam rose from her hulking meat shoulders as the hot burgers fused with the frozen, raw meat.

"I'll only tell you this once, you undead freak!" Valerie shouted, leveling an ectoblast and firing off a shot of bright red energy. "Get lost!"

"That's a recipe for disaster," the ghost snapped, whipping out one meat-clad arm like a wrecking ball.

The ghost hunter ducked and swept past in a smooth arc, slicing deep into the Lunch Lady's meat armor with a black and red blade that materialized on her wrist. She looped around the ghost and circled back, shaving another chunk off the top. Chunks of meat fell to the floor with a wet splat. Sam winced and shuddered, Tucker looked aghast.

The ghost waved a hand; the meat closed over like it had never been touched.

Vicky scrambled around the counter and darted for the door, clutching the tip jar to her chest. Lunch Lady pointed a gloved finger at the retreating cashier, and hot, greasy fluid shot out.

Valerie fired a blast, knocking the ghost's aim off. The grease sizzled into the floor to the right of Vicky's tennis shoes as the girl dragged the side door open and ran out.

The ghost snarled and turned on Valerie. Valerie dodged away and zoomed out into the eating area, doubling back.

Rockets shot off her sled and at the same time her suit created cannons on her shoulders and she fired with both barrels. All four strikes hit the ghost at once. The Lunch Lady gave a terrible shriek and exploded. Hot, sizzling, half-cooked meat splattered everywhere, onto the tables, chairs, and unfortunate customers who had gotten trapped.

Sam jumped at the sting of the hot oil as a few pieces dropped onto her hair and shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye she just caught a glimpse of something red and pink slinking behind the counter.

The Red Huntress, as the newscasters had dubbed the mysterious ghost fighting girl, surveyed the room and spotted Sam and Tucker, clutching their purchases and peeking out over one of the booths.

"You two? I thought you'd already…well, nevermind. Get out of here." She jerked her thumb toward the door. "This isn't over yet."

Tucker stood, dusting hamburger meat out of his hair and looking mournfully at it. "What a waste."

Sam shuddered and quickly did the same; hamburger was disgusting enough on a bun where it was supposed to be. The little noodles of processed meat looked like bloody pink worms. In fact...they were wiggling….no, they flew. Off, out of sight, across the counter, followed by the bigger chunks faster and faster.

"Va- uh, ghost huntress," Sam pointed. "The meat's recollecting!"

"I see it," Valerie muttered, an ecto gun materializing in her hand. She cocked it and jumped back on her sled, rising slowly to hover a few feet off the tile. "Now get out of here, unless you like being target practice for a walking meatball."

"Yes ma'am," Tucker said, grabbing Sam's hand and tugging her toward the door. "Let's go, Sam."

They dashed out the door and across the parking lot, where most of the Nasty Burger patrons were milling about, waiting. Ghost attacks had become so routine that people rarely screamed and ran in terror for more than a block or so.

Tucker and Sam slipped through the crowd and crossed the street, where a bench took up a tiny patch of grass behind the sidewalk. Tucker flung himself down on it, unloading his burden of paper bags and drinks. Sam plopped down beside him with a sigh. The ground shook again.

Tuck looked at Sam and grinned. "Three, two, one…"

Windows shattered, sending the rubberneckers scrambling out of the parking lot and back to a more reasonable distance. A whirlwind of meat flowed out the front door, reassembling itself into a massive, lumpy creature with stubby arms and legs and wicked green eyes. It hovered just above the NB sign like a misshapen blimp. The Lunch Lady took a stand just above her creation, burgers and chicken nuggets swirling around her in a greasy miasma.

"That's some nasty sauce, right there," Tucker commented.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Come on,Tuck, you can do better than that."

"Get back here, ghost!"

Tuck whistled as the ghost huntress streaked out of the building on her jet sled and executed an acrobatic flying kick to the face of the meat monster. "That's some hot sauce right-"

Sam dumped her near-empty soda on Tucker's head, sending ice cascading down his shoulders.

"Hey!"

"At least once Danny's back to normal we'll have some decent banter again." She tossed the empty cup into the the nearby trash can.

"I think you've forgotten how bad his puns can get," Tuck retorted. "You just like him, so he gets away with it. What's the saying again? Absence makes the crush grow stronger?"

Sam held up Tucker's extra-large cup threateningly. "I have another one of these."

"Fine, fine, don't destroy my mocha shake!" Tucker snatched it from her hands and cradled it to his chest. "This is a work of art, you know." He paused, the grin falling from his face. "You do… you do think he'll go back to normal, right?"

Sam rolled her heels against the pavement, biting her lip. The shouts and explosions from across the parking lot seemed miles away, fading into familiar background noise. Just thinking about what Danny must have been through made her blood boil; she had to remind herself not to crush the bag and their french fries in her grip.

Experiment. Test subject. The words brought terrifying images to mind, of animals in cages in sterile white rooms, sad heaps of mangy fur with wild, white-rimmed, pleading eyes.

It was a little too easy for Sam to make the connection with the Danny in that hospital room. He tried to hide it, but it was there, all the same; the way Danny sat, how he talked, that nervous twitch every time the door opened unexpectedly. He was frail, watchful, cautious. Things the doctors couldn't wrap up in neat white bandages and hide under clean sheets.

Danny had been hurt before; once or twice, bad enough he had to stay in bed for a few days… but this was different. Sam wasn't used to seeing him look… timid.

"This is Danny we're talking about," she said finally. Then more forcefully, as if to make herself believe it, "Danny will be fine. He's come through everything else being half-ghost has thrown at him."

"True." Tucker brushed a few ice cubes off his shoulder and grinned at her wryly. "Whether we want him to be or not, he's always got to be the hero."

Sam frowned, tearing open the fries. "You'd think he'd know better than to try to pull a hero-face bluff on us by now."

"You're forgetting he's got an overprotective streak the size of Lake Erie. The kind with one 'E.'"

She snagged a couple of fries, then dropped the bag into Tucker's outstretched hands. "If he thinks he can 'protect' us from helping him, he's more delusional than I thought."

Yet another explosion rocked the block. The resulting meat shower almost reached their bench. A meatball-sized piece rolled up against the toe of Sam's black boot. She kicked it away. It hissed at her, baring tiny needle fangs, then scampered back toward the main body.

"At least we don't have to worry about the ghost problem," Tuck observed. "Well, no more than usual. We've got to make sure that Danny knows that so he doesn't try to go ghost 'til he's- you know. Up to it."

As the ghost focused on rebuilding her meat creature, Valerie flew back a dozen yards and knelt on her board. A bulky device materialized on her shoulder, with odd bits of green and silver mixed into her usual black and red. She took careful aim and fired, with a recoil hard enough to push her sled back a couple of yards.

The blast hit home at the center of the lunch-lady's ample bosom. It seemed to punch a sharp indent through the ghost's chest. The Lunch Lady looked down, puzzled, as the air just in front of her rippled, twisted, and tore. Green light flashed, and the ghost seemed to contract, like a sheet caught in a vacuum hose. Her angry wail echoed against the cheers of the onlookers as she was sucked in and vanished.

"Anonymously donating the Fenton Bazooka was a stroke of brilliance, by the way," Sam commented, watching as the green swirling portal flickered and disappeared, taking the defeated Lunch Lady with it. Valerie had transformed into a much more effective ghost deterrent with the portal-creating weapon. It was a lot easier to banish a ghost to the zone than it was to completely destroy them. They tended to bounce back in nasty ways.

Tucker leaned back and took a long sip of his mocha shake, smirking around the straw. "I do have my moments."


"Do you have the slightest inkling of the measure of scrutiny this organization has fallen under?"

Agent L looked up from his seat behind the desk and said nothing. It was hot here on the first floor with the faulty air conditioning, and he was in no mood to pander to condescending, obvious questions.

Doctor Kerza's lip curled in disgust. "The media is having a field day." He flung the papers onto the desk; they fluttered and fell in Agent L's line of sight, headlines glaring from them in bold block print.

FAMILY SEPARATED IN MOMENT OF NEED

LOST SON, ABSENT MOTHER, NEGLIGENT GOVERNMENT

RED TAPE THICKER THAN BLOOD?

The agent pushed them aside irritably, straightening the careful stack of documents that occupied the center of the desk. Dr. Kerza was a small, crisp man, with an attitude that far outweighed his stature.

"If you're looking for a dog to kick, Dr. Kerza, the perpetrators are long gone." His own distaste mirrored the doctor's sour expression. "My 'promotion' is merely a consequence of a series of departures." More accurately, the real movers and shakers had fled safely into anonymity, leaving only a skeleton of "inconsequentials" in place to be exposed should the facility be forced into the public eye. Not nearly the honor "Facility Head" should imply.

He was, of course, fully aware of the disastrous media storm that the incompetent upper management had brought down on their heads. That abominable Jack Fenton had told anyone who would listen how the government was keeping him from his wife. It was a small mercy that their department had never been mentioned by name.

The doctor glanced at him keenly through rimless, rectangular lenses."Higher-ups weaseling out of personal responsibility, hm? The American government never fails to disappoint."

It had taken hours of filling out forms and a few veiled threats of blackmail to prevent the facility from being closed down altogether. Only the marked technological advances of the past year had saved them, and only just. Projects like Silver Mist and the Electromagnetic Disruptor had been direct results of their research, something the government was forced to acknowledge as essential to national ghost defense. As it was, funding had been halved, and with all the angry public inquiry, they'd held onto their confidential status by a thread.

Dr. Kerza snatched up the accusatory papers and tossed them in the wastebasket, then turned on his heel. "Hurry up and show me this rare specimen of yours; I may as well have a look before the misguided champions of social justice kick down our doors."

They moved speedily through security, something Agent L found frustrating to no end. His security team had been reduced to a handful of men. It was a pathetically thin shield between the outside world and the dangers of ghost research. Although, he noted with a touch of pride, the remaining staff was as dedicated and vigilant as ever.

"You are at least well-equipped," Kerza said grudgingly, taking in the well-shielded lab and its armament of ghost study and containment devices. "Though I suppose that's not surprising, considering the monopoly you've given yourselves through the patent office."

"We're protecting the interests of the human race, Dr. Kerza. That constitutes a significant basis for prioritizing our research, don't you think?"

"Hmm, I suppose." He nodded at the cube Agent L had brought in. "Is that the specimen?"

"Yes." Agent L activated the containment unit and attached the cube to the side of the force field.

The cube hissed and a green mist billowed out into the space behind the glass. It hovered nebulous in the air, then gathered and condensed, congealing into a large, faintly glowing mass. All at once it dropped to the floor with a wet slap.

The two men stared speechlessly at the oozing pool of goo. No ghost. No signs of life at all.

"What, may I ask, is that supposed to be? Surely not Phantom."

Agent L checked the barcode on the cube a second time. "This is the device that contained ecto-entity 0013. There's no mistake."

The scientist arched a skeptical eyebrow. "You're telling me that your most advanced and valuable specimen just melted away?"

"Dr. Fenton did suggest such an outcome was possible," Agent L said slowly, approaching the holding cell. "Phantom was showing signs of arbitrary destabilization." He frowned down at the green substance, suspicion flickering at the back of his mind. He was not so certain Dr. Fenton could be trusted; her attitude in the final phase of her testing had been... suspect, to say the least.

"I've read her reports, yes," Dr. Kerza snapped. "Her reasoning was faulty; Phantom was too strongly ideated to simply dissolve. It should have reached a state of reduced mass which its core could continue to support, and then stabilized. No ghost would spontaneously evaporate after such a simple battery of tests, certainly not a specimen of such remarkable physical density."

"So you don't think this," Agent L waved his hand, "is Phantom?"

"That's something of a paradox, isn't it?" Dr. Kerza adjusted his glasses and peered down at the substance. "Did the ghost check itself out of cold storage and stroll away, leaving a few gallons of ectoplasmic matter behind?"

The agent's eyes narrowed. "That may not be as fanciful as you seem to find it, doctor."

"In any case I think it would be wise to question the scientist who last had possession of Phantom. I should also run some tests; if this is indeed the entity's remains, data from the ectoplasmic residue could be enlightening."

"You are not permitted to have contact outside of the facility." Agent L paused, and added grudgingly, "Except in cases of family emergency."

"Oh yes, I forgot we're a 'top government secret' and all that nonsense." Dr. Kerza was already pulling on a pair of heavy hazmat gloves, dark eyes running over the array of equipment on the laboratory shelves. "Not everyone is under such restrictions, am I correct?" He selected a vacuum-type device. "Surely the Facility Head could elect two government-approved emissaries to track the good doctor down and find out a few details, hmm? Make sure someone with an actual mind for science goes along, not just you militant secret agent types."

Agent L bristled. "I don't recall you outranking me, Dr. Kerza."

"Let's not get petty, agent. If I don't find a reason to keep this facility going, there will be no facility. Unless you want to say farewell to your ghost research, you'll see that things go my way." If Dr. Kerza could feel how the agent was glaring behind his shades, he didn't show it. "Now stand aside, I need that sample."


Ties that Bind :: tbc...


A/N: Hello, friends, and Happy Halloween! Here's a bit of a change of pace for you, and is that a plot I spy?

I had the pleasure of working with three betas this time round: MyAibou, Lexie Piper, and Anneriawings. Thank you ladies for your hard work, patience, and tireless typo-catching!

To the anons, Toni, Julia, S and Sparky among others, thanks for your awesome reviews!

Also, please note: I will be doing Nanowrimo this November, since I promised my boy I'd come up with some original fic this year. Therefore, the next chapter of SoaD will go up in December.

One last thing: AnneriaWings and I are posting a collaborative fanfic in honor of Halloween! Make sure to check out her account later tonight for the DP horror fic, It Takes You. If you dare. 0_0

ETA: Thanks rxu for catching my formatting flub!

-Hj