Specter Detectors 1,2,3

by Nylah

Danny, Sam and Tucker start their own ghost hunting agency. Ep.3: Rosemary's Diamond. They capture a ghost for a recently widowed woman. But then she comes to them with an unusual request... Future fic, no PP.

4. Episode 3: Rosemary's diamond

Summary: Danny and Sam capture a ghost for a recently widowed woman. But then she comes to them with an unusual request...

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SPECTER DETECTORS LTD

Episode 3: Rosemary's Diamond

---

Tucker sat under the counter in CompuStore, the biggest computer store in town, pressed against his colleague. Under any other circumstances, he would have welcomed this position, as his colleague was Marcia Mulder, a young, intelligent, starting sales person, but the fact that Technus was right above them, only inches away from spotting them, spoiled it a bit. Tucker had tuned out the ghost's loud proclamation of world dominance, and was instead trying to see whether he could reach his bag, because besides containing his lunch, it also contained a newly charged ecto gun and a Fenton thermos. Tucker felt he really could use those right about now, but there was no way to get to the door to the personnel entrance and retrieve it without Technus noticing. He needed a diversion.

Slowly, he twisted somewhat, causing Marcia to gasp when his elbow hit her stomach, and reached for his phone. For a moment, he considered calling Danny anyway, but then he dismissed it for the second time, knowing he was across town with a new customer. Tucker didn't want to spoil a deal if he didn't have to. Instead, he punched some numbers and waited until the phone on one of the information counters began ringing, sounding absurdly loud in the quiet Technus had caused – he had hit the muzak installation, a thing Tucker was actually grateful for.

As soon as the technology obsessed ghost heard the unexpected sound he stopped ranting and glared at the phone, a small wireless thing that still had 'Jingle Bells' as a ring tune, even thought Christmas was over a month ago. Tucker held his breath as the ghost drifted away from them and tensed, prepared to make a run for the door. Just when he was about to move, two small hands grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Don't leave me," Marcia whimpered.

Tucker closed his eyes. For three days he had tried to get Marcia to date him, but she had smiled vaguely at him and had told him 'maybe some other time'. Having gotten a little wiser over the years, he had given up after that. He'd always dreamed of women to say that to him, but somehow they never had. And now she was saying it to him at the worst possible moment.

"Let me go!" he hissed to her, "I'll come back for you!"

She started shaking her head vigorously, her brown eyes tearing. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, alright, come with me, but be quiet!"

He dragged her up on her feet, and together they tiptoed to the door behind Technus's back, who was doing something to the phone on the information desk. Just when they reached the door, Tucker's phone started playing 'Remember' from Ember, something that had caused raised eyebrows with his friends.

"Oh, crud," Tucker muttered as Technus turned around, holding up the phone and looking at him triumphantly.

"Aha!" the ghost yelled, "I've got you now! You try to deceive me, I, the great Technus, who will dominate the world..."

Tucker didn't wait for him to finish the speech, but instead pushed Marcia through the door and then dove inside himself, narrowly avoiding an ecto blast from the ghost, who had interrupted his speech just for that. He didn't wait, but pushed the girl roughly aside, made a beeline for his bag and started rummaging through it.

"What are you doing?" Marcia asked in a frantic voice, "Are you mad! You don't need your lunch, we need to get outta here!"

"Girl," Tucker muttered, holding the bag upside down and causing his laptop computer to clatter on the floor, along with the ecto gun and the thermos, "I always need my lunch."

He flipped the switch on the ecto gun and to his satisfaction saw a faint green glow coming from it. Then he rushed back to the door and pushed it open just a little bit, to see where Technus had gone.

A loud 'Aha' was his only warning. Not thinking – thinking would have had him running out – he jumped, not back inside the room, but out into the store again, rolling on the floor to avoid Technus's blasts until he was behind the counter again. Holding the gun in his right hand, the thermos in his left, he sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. He wasn't out of shape anymore, at least, not as much as he used to be, but he still was no match for Sam or Danny. It'd have to do.

He edged to the side of the counter, the gun in front of him and peered around it, directly into Technus's eyes, who blasted him. But not before he got a shot out of his own, having expected that move. He rolled back, crawled under the counter to the other side and shot the ghost again from underneath. Technus howled in pain and surprise and edged back, only to retaliate almost immediately, this time hitting Tucker on his left hand, causing him to almost drop the thermos.

He edged back again, gasping in pain, realizing that if they wanted to capture the ghost, there would need to be two of them, one for keeping the ghost busy and one for sucking him into the thermos. He was alone.

Gasping, shaking, knowing Danny would be mad at him for even attempting something like this, he jumped up, firing his gun as fast as he could at the ghost, jumping and zigzagging madly to avoid Technus's return fire, running directly at him. After years of practice he could shoot almost as well as Sam, especially at point blank range, but shooting and running at the same time tends hamper your aim. Still, he managed to hit Technus twice before he got hit in the shoulder himself. He let out a scream, dropped the gun and fell to the floor, rolling away instantly until he was directly underneath his adversary. Which was exactly where he wanted to be.

He flipped open the thermos and pointed it straight upwards, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the bright light of the blue vortex. This close, the ghost had no chance. With an unearthly howl it disappeared into the thermos, yelling and screaming he'd be back.

"Yeah, yeah," Tucker gasped, "See ya later."

The quiet in the store was overwhelming. He laid on his back, staring at the off-white squares of the ceiling, noticing his glasses had cracked. His shoulder was now competing with his hand in throbbing painfully from the burn wounds, and he was just about to try and get up when the sprinkler installation went off, instantly drenching him and all the valuable computer equipment around him. He started to laugh.

---

Danny glared at his friend, who was sitting on the ground in the middle of the basement, the still malfunctioning ecto energy reader on his lap and several tools spread out around him. His left hand was wrapped in bandages, as was, invisible under his shirt, his right shoulder. Pain killers had made him slightly light headed, and he had insisted on leaving the hospital and proceeding with their plans for the afternoon: finishing the ghost portal. Danny didn't like it.

"Look," Tucker said, without looking up at his friend, "You know we have to do this. The thermoses are full again, and I don't like it that you have to go to Wisconsin to empty them at Vlad's portal there. It's a long trip, it drains you and Vlad's evil. I'm alright. I'm no worse than you are half of the time."

"Tucker, two words: superhuman healing. Those burn wounds would be gone by tomorrow if it had been me. You're an idiot. You should have called me, screw the consequences. I'd rather lose a client than you."

"Yeah, well, you're probably right. But I got him, didn't I. And I got a date out of it."

Sam, sitting in the corner, watching the conversation, started to laugh.

"Alright," she said, "You convinced me. You are now officially a moron. You're worse than Danny ever was."

"Hey!" the ghost hybrid said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Danny, you were always pining after Paulina, taking stupid risks to 'save' her," she held up her fingers as to quote the word 'save'.

"Jealous," Tucker sang quietly, screwing the lid back on the energy reader.

"That was ages ago," Danny said, ignoring Tucker, "I was a kid back then."

Tucker painfully got up and walked to the control panel of the ghost portal. He scanned the wiring intently, looking for discrepancies, but he didn't find any. Carefully, he placed the spectral energy reader, essential for keeping the portal within it's working range, on top of the control panel, fastened the wires at all the appropriate places and then screwed it back into place, a bit awkwardly because of his injured hand.

"You're still a kid. You still play pranks on people and you still play Doomed."

Tucker flipped the switch on the side of the control panel and the thing whirred to life, the various dials spiking for a moment before settling into place, all neatly pointing at where they're supposed to be pointing. A small red light blinked in the top right corner, signifying that, as everyone could see, the portal was turned off.

"How is it that Tucker gets himself injured in a stupid move, I'm getting the blame for it? What is this, some 'women against men' thing, an 'all men are children at heart thing'? Or maybe we just don't live up to your boyfriend?"

"Ah," Tucker thought, turning around to watch his friends, "Here we go again."

"Dating him a couple of times doesn't make him my boyfriend. Danny, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous," Sam said angrily.

Danny started muttering to himself and turned around, straight into Tucker's face, who bore a look saying 'I told you so'.

"What!"

Tucker's grin widened. "Done."

Both Sam and Danny forgot their argument instantly, and they jumped up and joined Tucker at the console. The octagonal shape of the portal looked dead and quiet, it's silence being accentuated by the soft buzz that came of the control panel.

Danny stepped forward, hesitated for a moment and turned around to his friends, his face a mixture of excitement and fear. Then he resolutely turned around and stepped into the portal to inspect it from the inside. Shivers ran down his spine as he let his fingers brush the seams of the metal plating, carefully stepping over the wires that were on the floor. This time, he wouldn't be in the portal when they turned it on, but just standing there made the painful memory come back to him.

It had been the single most painful, horrifying experience in his life. And he had done it twice. The second time, he hadn't remembered the first time. If he had, he was certain nothing in the world would have convinced him to go back in there again, not even Sam. Just being in here with the portal turned off and trusting his friends not to turn it on while he was in, was a victory in itself. For a short while. Suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of wanting to leave, he stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the wires on the floor.

For an agonizingly long heartbeat, he was back ten years, tripping over the wires, putting his hands on the switch, feeling the sudden onslaught of ectoplasm and electricity strip away the flesh from his bones, turning him inside out, reversing him and then putting him back together again. Then he caught himself without touching the wall and he just stood there, panting. Finally, getting a hold of himself, he turned around and stepped out of the portal.

"Are you alright?"

He looked at Sam's concerned face and nodded curtly, before looking away. He would never be alright. He turned to Tucker at the console.

"All set?"

Tucker nodded, looking at the impassive face of his half-ghost friend.

"Let's do this," Danny said, mentally adding, "Before I change my mind."

Reaching behind him, Tucker retrieved a small glass tube and held it out to Danny.

"You said you'd provide the ectoplasm," he said, a little reluctantly because he had a feeling he knew where Danny was going to get it from.

Danny nodded, took the tube and let the two rings appear around his waist, transforming him into his ghostly self. Hovering slightly above the ground, his head almost touching the ceiling, he held out his right hand and formed a razor sharp short knife from a combination of ice and ectoplasm. Tucker had seen him do it before, but with a different purpose. Fascinated, unable to look away, he watched as Danny made a quick slash on his left arm.

Ectoplasm started to leak out and Danny transferred the small tube to his right hand after dissolving the knife. He held the tube to his arm and managed to let a substantial amount of his ectoplasm pour into it. Then he handed it carefully back to Tucker, who took it and placed into it's holding device. Sam had been watching the process silently.

Danny looked at his arm, still oozing green ectoplasm, and decided to change back to make it stop, hoping the wound would disappear entirely. He had a pretty good idea nowadays which wound would show up as he went human and which wouldn't, and he was pretty sure this one would only leave a thin red line on his arm. He was right.

As gravity took hold of him again, he rolled up his sleeve and inspected his arm. Next to the almost invisible scar from the knife wound he received two months ago, there was indeed a thin red line. He was about to pull his sleeve down again when he felt Sam's hands on his arm. She pulled his arm towards her and looked at it.

"You're mad, you know that don't you?" she asked.

He laughed, amused. "Sure I am. And so are you for even talking to me." He turned to Tucker again and nodded.

Tucker smiled and pulled the lever on the control panel. The light in the basement dimmed for a moment, before coming back on full again. The portal sparked. The small ecto filter started glowing green.

Danny felt his mouth go dry and his heartbeat slowing down, mimicking his ghostly counterpart. Or maybe time slowed down. He stared at the portal for a moment, waiting for the sparking to subside and then turned to his friends, motioning them backwards and out of the line of the portal. If anybody was going to turn on the portal, it would be him.

The control panel hummed. Somewhere in the house, somebody was using a tap, he could hear the water streaming through the pipes. A heavy truck drove by. Sam was scraping her combat boot against the floor, Tucker was breathing in short gasps. The static electricity of the portal made the hair on his neck stand up. He looked at the buttons next to the entrance, the buttons that had been on the inside before, the buttons that had almost cost him his life.

He stepped forward and slammed the green one.

---

Teresa Daniels stood on the steps in front of her house, hesitating. The ghost hunter had said he had caught the ghost, and they had walked through all the rooms together with his ghost detection device. They had come up with nothing. Still...

Taking a deep breath, she stuck her key into the lock and turned it, opened the door with a small push and peered inside. All was quiet, just like when she left a few hours earlier, feeling triumphant. She had beaten him, the ghost that had terrorized her the whole month. It had been a good idea, even though their office had seemed shabby and Mr Fenton had looked a bit young to be claiming ten years of experience in ghost hunting.

Slowly, she stepped inside, knowing it was safe now, but still expecting that whispering voice, that eerie laughter, those cold fingers in her neck. She shivered. Then she quickly rushed to the other side of the hallway and turned around to look back. There was nothing there. The house was warm and inviting, not cold, clammy and conscious.

"You're really gone," she whispered.

Smiling, relaxing, she put her keys down on the small table and habitually checked her appearance in the mirror above it. Blond, curly hair. Blue eyes, even bluer because of the tinted contact lenses she wore. Plain black skirt, matching jacket and gray blouse. After all, she was still in mourning. But she still looked a hell of a lot better than that woman ghost hunter, Ms Manson. She didn't quite know what her deal was, but the dark eyeliner on the pale face gave her a spooky look. Those black jeans tucked into combat boots had given her a somewhat military outlook, but Teresa was pretty sure the woman had nothing to do with that.

Both ghost hunters had looked thoroughly professional, and their presence alone had been comforting in itself. She remembered how they had told her to wait outside, and it had taken them fifteen minutes to flush the ghost out. They had caught it in some sort of containment device that looked like a soup thermos, and Fenton had wrapped his arm around Manson for a moment. Clearly a couple. Pity though. Fenton was kind of cute.

Thinking all this, she made her way up the stairs and into her bedroom. The huge, king size bed was standing in the middle of the room, and now she was finally able to sleep in it again. But first...

Smiling to herself, she made her way across the room into the bathroom, walked straight to the toilet and lifted the lid of the water basin. And stared. Confusion spread on her face, then fear, then anger. Frantically, she stuck her arm in and started feeling around in the cold water, but it was no use.

"No... you didn't," she whispered, then louder, "No! No! No! You bastard! You despicable... You can't do this to me!"

She slammed the lid back on and it broke. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, she felt her world fall apart.

---

He was sitting cross legged on thin air, hovering about two feet from the ground, staring into the green swirling of the ghost portal. Tucker was sitting at the table, papers spread out before him, going over his calculations. Sam was sitting on the floor, a collection of ecto weapons in various stages of disassembly around her. The soft clanking of her tools and the faint scratching of Tucker's pencil were the only sounds in the basement now.

Danny felt his friends' curious glances at him every now and then, but he ignored them. He was too busy figuring out what the portal meant to him.

At first, he had thought he wanted the portal to be able to dispose of the ghosts he caught. And it was true too, he really did need it for that. But during the past months it had become an obsession. Sure, he could use Vlad's portal, but he hated going to the fruit loop, knowing he owed him. And yet, he had been searching for excuses to go to Wisconsin, to make those short trips into the ghost zone to release the ghosts he caught. There really was no need to empty a thermos immediately. He could stash more than one ghost in it.

He held out his gloved hand and touched the barrier, the thin membrane that was the surface of the entrance to the ghost zone. He felt its power, its coldness, its connection to himself. Then he pressed a bit further, breaking the membrane, and his hand disappeared into the green. He drew back and watched as the membrane slid over his hand and repaired itself where he had punctured it. Fascinating stuff.

"Danny?"

He turned around and looked at Sam, who had just reassembled an ecto rifle.

"Do you think it's prudent to leave the ghost portal open like that, after you just disposed of ten ghosts, among which Technus?"

He grinned and shook his head. Then he floated to the console and pressed the modified genetic lock. It now only allowed Sam, Tucker and himself to open or close the door. Tucker was working on a remote, so that he could operate the door from inside the ghost zone, but it wasn't finished yet. Then he reluctantly transformed back into Danny Fenton.

"Need a hand with those?" he asked her.

"Yes please," she said, gesturing at the box full of wrist guns, "Did you leave anything for your parents at all?"

Danny's grin widened, and he mercilessly suppressed the thought that his exceptionally good mood was caused by the proximity of the ghost portal.

"This isn't even half of it," he said.

He sat down next to her and expertly started to disassemble one of the small guns, cleaning it parts with a rag and then putting it back together again. Then he checked the charge, and put those aside which needed recharging. With Danny's help, they finished them in less than half an hour.

"Are you gonna tell us now what you saw when you went inside?" Tucker asked, looking up from his work, "You said you'd tell us later, but I think this qualifies as later."

Danny's good mood evaporated, and he glanced at the portal.

"Ah yes," he said, "About that. We, um, have a slight problem there."

Sam put the gun she was working on down and Tucker pushed his chair back. They both looked at him expectantly.

"You know how it is that in the ghost zone, distance doesn't really mean anything? I mean, moving the ghost portal about a mile in the real world doesn't mean moving the ghost portal the same distance in the zone?"

"Yeah man," Tucker said impatiently, "I figured that. We have no clue as to where in the ghost zone a portal is gonna open. It'll probably be on the infinimap, but since we don't have it..."

Danny shook his head. "No. I think it's pretty random. Where the portal opens up, it has to do with the amount of startup energy. That's what I think."

He didn't think. He knew. He had personally opened that portal ten years ago. He had felt the tearing of reality, the energy streaming through him, searching for a way out, a way in, until it settled and the portal was open and he was a ghost. But this time, he hadn't been inside the portal. Only close. And it had been enough.

"Anyway," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, "We're in a different part of the ghost zone now."

"So where are we?" Sam asked.

"Um." Danny looked at the ground, knowing they wouldn't like his answer. "Actually, we're pretty close to Walker's prison."

"What!"

His friends looked at him, stunned.

"Well, at least we're not inside his prison," he said jokingly.

Sam and Tucker were not amused.

"This is bad," Tucker said, "He's still after you, and now we practically invite him in. Maybe we should shut down the portal again, and then try again."

Danny shook his head.

"That won't work. It'd open at the same place. The gateway is there now, even if we shut it down, the barrier is weak. It's like a hole in a tire. Always a weak spot. If you pump up the tire to hard, which is basically what we're doing when opening a portal, that same spot will burst. We'd have to physically move the portal again, and even if we could I don't want to go around Amity Park puncturing holes in the barrier. It's weak here as it is."

"How do you know all this?" Tucker asked.

Danny shrugged and looked away.

"My parents could never figure it out. The readings they got from the portal opening and the amount of energy they put in. It didn't fit. It couldn't fit. They never got anywhere with it and it frustrated them no end."

Comprehension dawned on Sam's face. "Because you were in the portal when it opened. You absorbed part of the energy..."

Danny nodded. "When the portal opened..."

He stopped, suddenly afraid to go on. He was the strong one, the hero. He shouldn't show them his vulnerable side. Sam seemed to catch on, however.

"You can tell us," she said, "We're your friends, Danny. That's what friends are for."

He waved his hands, opting for the censored version. "I felt it when the barrier was breached and the ectoplasm leaked out. I could tell when it was trying to balance itself with the real world. The thing is self-sustaining, it needs very limited power once it's started up. And the ecto filter, of course. A natural portal collapses after a certain amount of time."

Sam scowled at him and he looked away, knowing she knew he was withholding something.

"How about dinner?" Tucker asked.

---

Teresa sat in her car, watching the old house from across the street. There was a light on in the hallway, she could see it shining through the window above the door, but the second floor, where the ghost hunters' office was, was dark. The third floor seemed dark too, but she could see some light shining through an opening in the heavy drapes that were in front of the windows.

What to do. What to say. She had been sitting there for more than half an hour already, in the dark, in a bad neighborhood with an expensive car. She should get out of there. At that moment, the lights on the second floor went on. So they were there after all.

Seeing it as a sign, she stepped out of her car and quickly crossed the street, looking around nervously. The sound of her high heeled shoes echoed through the street, and she felt very conspicuous. She rushed to the door and pressed the bell next to the sign 'Specter Detectors'. She could hear the shrill noise of it sounding through the house. As she waited, fidgeting nervously, she saw a dark car pass by. She kept an eye on it from the corner of her eyes, trying to look as if she didn't notice it. Was that an unmarked police car? She almost missed the footsteps on the stairs.

The door was yanked open, and Teresa stared into the blue eyes of Daniel Fenton. He looked at her in surprise.

"Mrs Daniels," he said, "What a surprise... is everything alright? More ghost trouble?"

She shook her head and pushed her hair back behind her ear, a nervous gesture that she usually managed to suppress. She blinked at him, and to her satisfaction she saw he blushed. Maybe he wasn't that attached to that gothic woman. Her chances were improving.

"May I... come in?" she asked sweetly.

He blinked at her and stepped back, allowing her to brush past him. She deliberately paused for a moment in passing, looking up at him smiling. Then she continued up the stairs, hearing him shut the front door.

She knew the way, and made straight for the office, finding the gothic woman and a black man, the first sitting at a laptop computer near the window, the latter at a desktop computer on an old desk. They both had an email program on.

"Mrs Daniels," the goth said, getting up, "Is there a problem?"

Teresa looked at her appraisingly. "In a way," she said coolly.

She had to get rid of her. She nodded at the black man. "Another associate?"

"Ah yes," came Fenton's voice behind her, "This is Tucker Foley, our third partner."

Foley held out his hand and she shook it. Then she turned around and smiled at Fenton some more, noticing from the corner of her eyes how the goth started giving her very dirty looks. Fenton seemed oblivious.

"How nice," she said.

"Um," Fenton said, "Can we help you with anything? Is there another ghost at your house? That would be strange, because usually ghosts stay away from each other and..."

"No Mr Fenton," Teresa said, "No ghost. It's perfectly fine now. But I was wondering, what do you do with the ghosts you capture?"

All three of them stared at her. It was probably a bit unusual to come here after they were done and ask something like that.

"It's in the frequently asked questions on our web site," the goth, whose name had escaped her, said, "We transfer them to what is called the ghost zone. It's quite harmless. We don't hurt them."

The ghost zone. Suddenly, she got worried.

"And, have you already done that?" she asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we did," Fenton said, and she heard triumph in his voice.

He seemed very happy about it. Time for another act. She started sniffing, and took out a small handkerchief from her bag.

"Oh," she said, "Oh."

Fenton seemed at loss about what to do, but then he stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulders. He glanced at the goth and waved his hand, telling her to move out of the way. The goth stood up and stepped aside, so that Fenton could lead her to the chair she had been sitting on.

"There now," he said, worried, "Would you like a glass of water?"

Teresa nodded, and Fenton quickly gestured at the goth to get some. The woman's scowl deepened, and she stomped off. Foley just sat there, having an odd look on his face. She sniffed some more.

"What's wrong?" Fenton asked.

She looked up and saw that he was still hunched over her, his right hand on the table, his left on the back of the chair. She stared into his eyes, and for a moment lost herself into those concerned blue orbs. Then she remembered what she came here for.

"He took it," she sniffed, "He took it with him, and now it's gone."

Confusion on his face now. He had a very expressive face, she doubted he could hide any of his emotions. At that moment, the goth entered with a glass of water.

"Oh, thank you miss... I'm sorry, I forgot your name."

"Manson," the goth said curtly.

"Miss Manson, of course," Teresa said, remembering how the name had rang a bell, "Are you related to the Mansons who live on Elm Street?"

"My parents," Manson said.

Teresa nodded, now able to place her. And dismiss her. With parents like that, and the way she dressed, it couldn't be that they had a good relationship. She turned back to Fenton, who had straightened and was now leaning against the table.

"The ghost took my necklace... it was in the safe in the master bedroom, where you caught it. It was there this morning, I checked. And now it's gone. Nobody else could have taken it, I'm the only one who knows the combination."

Fenton stared at her. "Why would a ghost take your necklace?" he asked, "Was it valuable? Was it insured?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. My mother gave it to me. It's just a cheep necklace with glass stones in it, but I was very attached to it. My mother passed away five years ago and I..."

She started sniffing again, rubbing her eyes to make them appear red, careful to not mess up her mascara.

"Can you get it back?" she asked, blinking at Fenton, who started rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll pay you for it," she added.

"I don't know..." he said.

"No!" Manson stepped forward, trying to put herself between Teresa and the ghost hunter.

"Danny, no. You can't go in there. Not for a stupid necklace. It's too dangerous."

"Please?" Teresa tried to look both innocent and seductive. Manson shot her a dirty look again.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Daniels," she said decisively, "We can't do that. The ghost is already in the ghost zone. We can't go after it."

"Can I be the judge of that?" Fenton asked, now looking slightly annoyed.

"No," Manson said stubbornly, "You always take stupid risks. It's not worth it. I'm sorry, Mrs Daniels, you'll have to contact your insurance company. We can't help you."

"I could make it worth your while," Teresa said, looking past Manson at Fenton, trying to make it sound like it could mean more than just money, without sounding as if she did that intentionally.

Manson turned around, giving the both of them a furious look. Teresa had to fight to keep the smile off her face when she saw the indecision on Fenton. She had him. Manson turned to Foley.

"You say something," she demanded.

Foley, who had been looking at a PDA in his hands, looked up.

"No way I'm getting between you," he just said, before turning his attention to the PDA again.

Manson growled, threw her hands in the air and stomped out of the door. Teresa stood up and stepped closer to Fenton.

"Please?" she said, batting her eyes.

He gulped and looked away. She placed her hand on his arm and he looked back at her, uncertainty in his eyes. She stroked his arm and bend forward a little, looking up at him.

"It would really mean a lot to me," she whispered.

Fenton tore his eyes away from her and looked at the door, where Manson had disappeared.

"I'll think about it," he said.

She smiled hopefully at him and then stepped back.

"That's all I ask," she said sweetly, but sadly.

She walked to the door and just before opening it, turned around to Fenton, who was staring at her.

"Would you escort me to my car," she asked him, "I'm a little nervous in this neighborhood at night..."

He jumped up. "Sure," he said, "No problem."

She turned and walked to the door, watching Fenton from the corner of her eyes to see if he followed her. They walked quietly down the stairs, and then he pushed past her to open the door for her. Putting on her best grateful smile, she stepped outside.

"My car is over there," she pointed.

"Oh, alright," Fenton said.

They walked the short distance in silence. Arriving at the car, she stopped suddenly and turned around, causing him to bump into her.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She leaned into him for a moment, making sure he caught her meaning before stepping back.

"Thank you, Mr Fenton," she said.

She kissed him quickly on the cheek, turned around and stepped into her car. He stepped back, bringing his hand to his face, and as she drove off, she could see him staring after her. Oh yes, she had him.

---

Danny reentered the office with a confused expression on his face. Tucker had put down his PDA, and Sam was sitting on the desk next to him. They both glared at him.

"What?" he asked, "What did I do?"

Sam got up and stepped in front of him.

"You are so not going into the ghost zone to retrieve that trinket for your new girlfriend."

"Who said I was?"

"You did!"

"I did not."

"You didn't say you wouldn't."

"I said I'd think about it. That's OK, right? Thinking about something? This is a free country, I can think about whatever the hell I want."

"Guys," Tucker said, "Could you please hold your lover's quarrel somewhere else?"

"Tucker!"

Tucker winced at the two loud voices in his ears. Still, he couldn't resist poking them every now and then. Danny brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, "I'm tired, I have a headache and I'm going to lay down. You two have fun answering email."

With that, he simply phased through the books on the wall and the wall itself into his small bedroom.

"Sure," Sam muttered, "Run away again."

She looked at her watch.

"Almost ten. Let's call it a day, Tucker, I could use some rest too, and so can you."

Tucker shook his head. "You go. I'll... just play around with this stuff some more."

He gestured at the spreadsheet in front of him, containing readings from the opening of the ghost portal. He was trying to analyze them, to see if he could come up with a way to predict where in the ghost zone a portal would open, and if he could actually direct a portal to where he wanted it. It was a long shot, but he really didn't like being close to Walker's prison.

Sam shrugged in a suit-yourself-then way and left, grabbing her coat on the way out. Standing in the hallway, putting on her coat, she glanced at the door to Danny's bedroom. The bike was effectively blocking it, advertising a 'do not enter'. She shrugged again and left. He didn't escort her to her car.

---

The next morning found Danny running errants, being called upon seven times to cross the city at break neck speed to deliver packages. Tucker worked his morning shift at CompuStore and Sam had a meeting with a new client. That left the phone in the office unmanned, and there were three calls on their answering machine when he finally made it back there, exhausted, sweaty and cold at the same time. He pressed the button while letting himself fall down on the swivel chair at the computer.

The first two messages were from people who wanted information, and he called them back immediately to explain their services to them and offer his help. The third call was different.

"Mr Fenton , this is detective Sawyer, please call me back at the following number, 555 3421, thank you."

He paused, staring at the machine in surprise and pressed the rewind button to catch it again. Then he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Sawyer."

"Um, hi, detective Sawyer? This is, um, Daniel Fenton. You called me this morning..."

"Ah, yes Mr Fenton, I would like come by to ask you some questions. Two o'clock alright by you?"

Danny glanced at the clock on the wall in confusion. One thirty. He could take a quick shower.

"Sure," he said, "What's this about?"

"See you at two."

The man hung up, leaving Danny to stare at the phone in his hands. Shaking his head, he put it down and went to take his shower.

At exactly two o'clock, the doorbell buzzed, and Danny let in detective Sawyer. He was a tall man in his fifties, with graying hair and friendly brown eyes. All in all, he looked more like a favorite uncle than a detective. The man followed Danny up to his office and sat down in the swivel chair.

"Well," he said, looking around, "Nice setup you have here. So this is the Specter Detectors ghost hunting agency. You know, we've been keeping an eye on you, but you turned out legit."

Danny shifted uncomfortably. He was sitting on the old wooden chair at the desk. Behind his back, the monitor showed small green ghosts, floating randomly around on the screen. Tucker's new screen saver.

"So, is that what this is about then?" he asked, "You want to see if we're not crooks?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No, no, not at all. Like I said, we cleared you. In fact, you seem to do a better job than the GIW, and they're the official ghost hunters."

"Yeah, well, they only hunt ghosts if they're in public places," Danny said, "They don't go to people's homes. We provide a service, that's all... hold on."

Danny picked up the phone to take the call. He quickly scribbled down the address and phone number, and with a 'yes, we'll help you, but I'm in the middle of something so I'll have to call you back', he hung up.

"Another client?" Sawyer asked, looking interested.

Danny nodded. "Look," he said, "Obviously, I'm a busy man. Can you please tell me what this is about, so I can get on with my job?"

"You're doing alright then," Sawyer said, giving no indication that he had heard Danny.

"Yes, we're doing alright," Danny said, irritated, "We're not breaking even yet, but we're getting close. We handle about two or three hauntings a week."

"Including one at Mrs Daniels's house."

Danny stared at him. "Is that what this is about? Did she complain? We didn't take that necklace, if that's what you're suggesting..."

Sawyer suddenly leaned forward, his eyes alight with interest.

"She's lost it?" he asked excitedly, "When! How! Tell me!"

Danny looked at him suspiciously. "I''m sorry, Mr Sawyer," he said coolly, "Client confidentiality. I won't tell you squat unless you convince me I should."

Sawyer leaned back in his chair.

"Alright," he said, "Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a man called Harold Daniels. He was a thief. A minor low-life, but with a specialty: jewelry stores. He could get in and out undetected, always managing to bypass the alarm system, a bit like Phantom did ten years ago."

Danny winced.

"In fact, he was so good people started saying he had help from the inside, that was before we knew who it was. It was impossible, of course, he couldn't have had help at every single jewelry store. When we found out who he was, it turned out he worked at the company that installed the alarm systems. We knew it was him. We just could never prove it, and we never found any of the loot. And then he stopped doing it, and that was the end of it. The case was never solved."

"OK, fine," Danny said, "What does that have to do with me? I don't know the guy. When was this, anyway, I can't remember ever seeing something about it in the newspaper."

Sawyer waved his hand. "Oh," he said, "This was over twenty years ago. The man has lived a quiet life in his big mansion for all of that time. Nothing happened, until a year ago, when he married Teresa Agnetti."

Danny tensed. Teresa, the widow...

"I see you know her. Now, the thing is, I'm pretty sure Teresa didn't marry him for his looks. She was thirty years younger than he was, and look..."

Sawyer held out a picture of a fat, bald man with warts on his face. His small pig eyes looked blearily into the camera, and his blob-like nose looked red, as if he had drunk too much.

"Harold Daniels," Sawyer said, "Not a real beauty. Teresa married him because she thought he had money."

"He didn't?" Danny asked, studying the picture. He shivered, and handed it back. Sawyer shook his head.

"No," he said, "I think he spent it all during those twenty years. In fact, he had an extra mortgage on the house to finance his wedding. It must have been a real shock to her to find out that he had deceived her."

"Alright," Danny said, "I get it. The guy is dead now, you can't put him away for anything, so you're going after the wife?"

Sawyer impatiently shook his head.

"No, we would have left her alone. The thing is, all the jewelry Daniels stole turned up in the end, at different locations throughout the country. But there was one thing he couldn't sell. One piece that would attract too much attention. Rosemary's Diamond, named after the girl who first wore it in 1894. It's worth millions. The jewelry store had it for resetting it into a modern necklace. Daniels struck gold there. He took it."

Necklace... Danny turned pale. Teresa had asked him about a necklace. It wouldn't, it couldn't be that particular necklace, could it? He got up and walked to the window. The street below was a busy place. He could hear somebody rummaging around in the garage beneath him. A car passed by. A little bit further away, two people were arguing, waving their hands as if to emphasize their points.

"We captured a ghost in her house," he said, "Yesterday morning. It was an easy catch, it was over before we knew it. I didn't see anything that looked like a huge diamond in a necklace."

He turned around, and detective Sawyer was struck by the sudden intensity of his gaze.

"Last night Teresa... Mrs Daniels came by, asking what we did with ghosts we captured. She said it had taken a necklace with him, and she wanted it back. She was very... insistent. She said it was worthless, that it only had sentimental value to her. That her mother gave it to her."

Sawyer smiled brightly. He had her now. They only needed to get the necklace back, and tie it to her. Then he saw the grim look on the ghost hunter's face.

"If you're thinking we can get it back, you're mistaken," he said, "The ghost was already disposed of in the ghost zone. It's next to impossible to go in there and find him."

"Are you sure?" Sawyer asked, feeling disappointed, "You know, there's still a reward out for finding the thing. I believe it's close to twenty thousand dollars."

"Really?"

Danny looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head.

"I'm not gonna risk my life for a mere twenty thousand dollars," he said, and then he held out his hand.

"Can I keep the picture?" he asked, "My partner, Miss Manson, caught the ghost. I never saw it, but she must have had a good look at him."

"Are you suggesting you caught the ghost of Harold Daniels?" Sawyer asked.

Danny shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Like I said, I never saw the guy. How did he die, anyway?"

"Heart attack."

Danny looked at the wolfish grin on detective Sawyer's face and quickly suppressed the image that rose up in him. The detective got up and walked to the door. Then he turned around.

"Think about that reward," he said, and then he was gone.

Danny watched him walk to his car from the window. Then he went intangible and invisible and let himself sink through the floor, through the car in the garage where a man in a blue coverall was working, all the way to the basement. He didn't turn on the light, but instead walked to the small green light on top of the firmly closed ghost portal. It was humming softly. He stared at it.

"No way," he muttered, "Not for a mere twenty thousand dollars."

He shook his head. Sam would kill him if he tried it, and rightly so. Then he remembered the call he got during his conversation with detective Sawyer and went to answer it.

---

Teresa sat behind her dresser, looking in the mirror while combing her long blond hair. She had opted to wear it loose that evening, hoping that it would make an impression on Daniel Fenton. Danny, she reminded herself, his friends called him Danny. She smiled.

"Danny," she purred.

Yes, that was the way to go about it. She'd wrap him around her finger, just like she had wrapped Harold around her finger a year ago. She frowned in anger and frustration. He had looked so wealthy, so grand to her then. He was ugly, but she could see past that, she could live with that. She couldn't live with going back to working the night shift at the Nasty Burger again. That would mean humiliation. Her former friends would laugh at her.

She glanced at the clock. Eight thirty already. He had said he'd be there at eight when she called him. He was late. She didn't like to be kept waiting. He'd pay for it, she decided. Then, in a short moment of panic and insecurity, she wondered if he was going to show up at all. He had sounded a little reluctant on the phone that afternoon.

The bell sounded, and she allowed herself a moment of relief. Then she composed herself, and slowly descended the stairs to answer the door. One more moment to firmly plant a friendly, slightly seductive smile on her face, and then she opened the door, to look at his back. He had been looking up an down the street, as if planning to take off any moment. Her smile faltered, but then he turned around and she was able to look into his blue eyes again. Her smile came back on full force, and this time it didn't take her any effort at all.

"Mr Fenton... Danny. May I call you Danny?" she asked, "I'm so glad you could come. Please come in."

"Sure," he said, blinking at her.

She could see that he had been about to say something, but that her appearance had shut him up. For a moment, she wondered if the black silk dress she was wearing was a bit too much. But Harold had liked that one in particular, and she knew it looked stunning on her.

She closed the door behind him, and walked to the living room, as if expecting him to follow her. By doing that, she left him no choice but to do just that.

"Um," he said, looking around nervously at the excessive amount of red plush in the room.

The drapes were drawn, and only a few lights were on. In the fireplace, a small fire was crackling. Three candles on the table cast their erratic light on the paintings on the wall. Teresa turned around and stepped up to him, until her body was only inches away from his. She looked up. He really was quite attractive.

"W-what did you want to see me about?" he asked hastily, stepping back a little to get away from her.

She frowned at his movement. This was not how she planned it. He was supposed to be enthralled by her beauty, she would be irresistible to him. Maybe it was time to change tactics again. She blinked a few times, and then looked down, wringing her hands.

"I-I... please forgive me," she said sadly, "I've been so lonely since Harold died. It's so hard... being in this house... all by myself..."

"Oh," he said.

At least he had stopped backing away. She pushed the feral smile from her face and looked up again. He was staring at her, clearly not knowing what to do. She would decide for him. In one fluid motion, she stepped closer to him again and pressed herself against him. Then she stood on her toes to press her lips against his.

She felt him stiffen, his startled movement, but she gave him no chance to turn away again. Then she felt him answering her kiss, his hands move around her waist and up, until he suddenly stopped and pulled away.

"I know what you're up to," he said hoarsely, "You want me to get that necklace. They're on to you, Teresa, they know you had 'Rosemary's Diamond'."

She felt the anger flare inside her, a red hot spike in her emotions, and she knew it showed on her face. Quickly, she closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. He was still holding her. She could salvage this.

"Yes," she said, "Rosemary's Diamond. It's worth millions, Danny. We could get away from this all, go anywhere. Just you and me."

"You can't sell it," he said.

"Yes, I can," she said, "I have a buyer. We only need to salvage it. I know you can do it, Danny."

She pressed herself against him again and he groaned. Then he pushed her away from him and took a few quick steps so that the couch was between them. He was breathing heavily, and he looked angry. Teresa felt confused. What had she done wrong? She had him right there, he should have fallen for her, just like all the others. What man could refuse her?

"You don't understand, do you," he said, "I can't go into the ghost zone just to get a necklace. It's suicide. I can't go anywhere with you if I'm dead."

"No, it's you who don't understand," Teresa said, her voice now cold.

She felt the fury rise in her, and suddenly she hated him. He had let her make a fool of herself. He never had any intention of helping her. And he had been late. He had made her wait.

"I've waited long enough for this," she continued, "I've had to endure that man for almost a year, had to accept his filthy hands on me, had to pretend I liked it... I deserve a reward for that. That bastard left me broke. I have to sell the house to pay off the mortgage. It will leave me with exactly nothing."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Danny said, and he sounded as if he meant it, which made her even angrier, "But I really can't help you. You'll have to help yourself."

He turned around and walked to the door. "Goodbye, Teresa."

"Daniel Fenton, don't you dare walk out on me!" she screamed.

"Watch me."

She was too late. The door closed behind him as she threw the vase she had picked up. It crashed against the wood and shattered on the floor. She stared at the mess, the wet shards, the wilting flowers. This was it. This was her life. All gone to pieces.

And then an idea hit her. Seething, she turned around and started rummaging through one of the drawers in the cupboard. When she found what she was looking for, a grim smile crept on her face. She was going to help herself.

---

Danny stood on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to compose himself. He glanced back at Teresa's house for a moment, and quickly suppressed the thought of going back in there. She was something else, though. He couldn't help but admire her determination. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away. He felt a sudden need to see Sam. She didn't know he had gone to see Teresa, he hadn't told her because she would have been against it. He had told her and Tucker about the visit he had gotten from detective Sawyer, and they had been unanimous in their idea of leaving the matter be. But then Teresa had called, asking to see him, and he hadn't been able to resist the temptation.

He admitted that he was attracted to her from the beginning. Attracted like he would be attracted to anything with beauty. She was like a beautiful painting, to be admired, but not touched. And now he had touched.

Suddenly, he felt guilty. He thought of Sam again. He thought of how she would feel, pressed against him like Teresa had been, kissing him...

"Crap," he said.

He stopped, looked around and hid behind some bushes to go ghost. An instant and a bright flash later found him soaring through the sky, in the direction of Sam's apartment.

---

Sam was sitting in her favorite spot, on the floor in the basement of their office annex living quarters of their main ghost hunter. She had been at home earlier, but had felt lonely there. Tucker was here, doing some upgrades on the computers upstairs, and Danny was off somewhere. She frowned. He had been secretive about it, and she didn't like that. He was constantly keeping things from them, and she didn't know if it was to protect them of from a deep ingrained reflex to keep everything bottled up inside.

There really had been no reason to keep quiet about their proximity of Walker's prison for an hour. It was as if he had wanted to process the information first, as if he had wanted to censor it, carefully examine it to decide what to tell and what not. Which led her to believe that there was more to it than she knew. Maybe something from his past, from the time she and Tucker hadn't been there. Again, for the hundredth time, she felt the guilt of that wash over her. They had abandoned him. It had changed him. And no matter how carefree he seemed now, something was up.

A sudden chill alerted her, and she whipped around, already knowing who it would be. She smiled at his black and white form, shimmering into view, his green eyes sparkling when he caught sight of her.

"Hi," he said, "What'cha doing here?"

She shrugged. "I felt lonely at home," she said, and looked at him in surprise when she saw a flash of guilt cross his face. "So I went here to clean up. Tucker's upstairs. Where have you been?"

He looked away, and she felt suspicion rise in her. He had been up to something, that much she could see. He had never been able to hide his emotions well.

"Um, yes," he said, "I went to see Teresa."

Sam felt herself go cold. Instead of looking stricken, she managed to push a scowl on her face. She hoped he hadn't seen her sudden look of anguish, but she needn't have worried. He wasn't looking at her.

"You went what!" she said angrily.

He started rubbing the back of his neck, and now she almost laughed. She felt her anger disappear as quickly as it had come and berated herself for her mood swings. Danny glanced at her, and she saw relief on his face when he saw her laughing eyes.

"OK, it was stupid," he admitted, "She tried to get me to go into the ghost zone again, and even suggested we take off together to live on some tropical island from the money we'd get from selling the thing. Apparently she had a buyer."

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Sam asked.

"Of course not. I'd have to have a real good reason to get close to Walker's prison, and a million dollar necklace is not one or them."

Sam shook her head. "What's up with Walker anyway," she said, "You escaped him easily last time. He can't hold you, you're human."

He winced. "He, um," he said, "He had an upgrade to his prison. He now has a ghost-human proof cell."

"How?"

Danny shrugged. "Technus, I think," he said, "Not Skulker, he's still working for Vlad as far as I know. Vlad wouldn't want to end up in Walker's prison any more than I do."

Sam frowned, thinking back on the period of her and Tucker's absence. There had been a period...

"He caught you, didn't he," she whispered, "Three years ago, when we couldn't reach you, your parents couldn't reach you, when you were living at the dorm at college... You were gone for about a week, they were about to call the police when you showed up again. You weren't really on vacation, were you."

He looked at her, and this time she couldn't read his expression. The doorbell rang, but neither of them moved, and they heard Tucker's footsteps on the stairs. The vague sound of voices, then somebody entering and the door closed. Danny looked at the ground, and let the two rings appear around his waist, turning him human again, as if that somehow comforted him.

"I got out," he said, "That's all that matters."

A sudden movement at the hatch made them both look up. It opened, and Tucker's head appeared, looking worried and frightened.

"Guys, I'm sorry," he said.

He jumped down, immediately followed by Teresa Daniels, holding a gun.

"Move," she hissed.

She was no longer beautiful. Her face was contorted in a mad smirk, her eyes were shining too brightly. The hand holding the gun was unwavering, however, and she pointed it steadily at Tucker, who quickly moved away from her.

"Teresa!" Danny called out, "What are you doing! Put that gun away!"

Tucker came to a stop next to Sam, and she grabbed his arm in reassurance. Danny was standing close to the portal, looking as if he might rush the crazy woman, but not daring to because she had her gun on his friends.

"You," Teresa said, "I hate you. I would have given you everything, and you turned me away for this... this freaky woman!"

She pointed her gun at Sam and Danny went very still.

"So now you're going to get the necklace for me," she said, "Or the woman gets it. You understand? You are going to retrieve my necklace. You have two hours."

They all stood still, looking at each other. Danny looked at Sam in desperation, and then lifted his hand to press the button that opened the ghost portal. Sam shook her head, mouthing 'no!' at him.

"Come on, what are you waiting for," Teresa said in a shrill voice, and Danny heard the madness in it.

"Danny no," Sam said pleadingly, "It'll be the death of you."

"It'll be the death of your freaky girlfriend if you don't," Teresa said.

Danny pressed the button and the steel doors slid open, revealing the hypnotizing green swirling of the ghost zone. He felt it's coldness instantly, like a cold feather brushing over his skin. For a moment, he connected to it, and he sighed deeply, closing his eyes to hide the momentary green flare in them.

"You're a freak," Teresa said.

He opened his eyes and stared back at her, until she flinched. She strengthened her grip on the gun and kept it pointing at Sam. If it were only himself, Danny would have rushed her, trusting that he could go intangible in time to let the bullet go through. But he couldn't take that risk with his friends.

"Two hours," Teresa said.

Danny shook his head. "You're crazy," he said calmly, "Do you have any idea how big the ghost zone is? They call it the 'Infinite Realms'. It's endless."

He didn't tell her he had a pretty good idea on where the necklace and the ghost who stole it might be. Teresa looked at him fiercely.

"Then I suggest you get going," she said coldly.

With one last look at his friends, Danny stepped through the portal. The coldness inside hit him in his human form, and he quickly transformed. Doing that inside the ghost zone was so much easier than doing it in the human realm, and he suppressed the involuntary smile that crept onto his face. He needed to get moving.

He looked around to get his bearings again, and saw the rectangular shape of Walker's prison in the distance. When he had told Sam and Tucker that they were close to it, he hadn't told them how close. They were practically at his doorstep. Which practically guaranteed the ghost of Harold Daniels was in there, as was the necklace, it being a real world item. Walker would have confiscated it. The only thing he needed to to was get in there, snatch the necklace and get out.

He drifted closer to the prison, looking for any signs of Walker's goons, but he didn't see any. There were guards at the huge main entrance of course, but he wasn't stupid enough to go knocking there. Instead, he went in the opposite direction, taking a wide berth around the prison to arrive at the back. Then, flying straight at the wall at high speed he turned human at the last possible moment, phasing through the wall, using his momentum to keep going. As soon as he was through the wall, he changed again and jumped down on the floor in a crouch.

An empty corridor. Cold, dark, save for the barred windows, which let in the green glow of the ghost zone. Noises at the end of the corridor, sounding like hollow laughter. A chill ran up his spine, and he pushed unwelcome memories away. This was no time to dwell on the past.

Slowly, he got up and tried to get his bearings. He was all the way at the back of the prison. This part of the building was mostly deserted, which was good. However, he had to go across to the other side to get to Walker's office, where he would most likely keep any impounded contraband. At least, that was where he kept it the last time. Ten years ago.

He felt like taking a deep breath, but the futility of that in his ghost form stopped him. He did feel a little better for it, though, because to him it meant that he was still human. Ghosts don't breathe, and certainly don't feel the need to take deep, cleansing breaths. He listened to the distant voices some more, and then started walking. Into the direction of the voices.

---

Tucker looked at the blond woman holding the gun. She stared right back at him, unblinking. It was creepy. She hadn't looked crazy when she first came to visit the night before. But now she definitely did not look normal.

Sam shifted somewhat beside him, and Teresa tensed. Then she relaxed again, and leaned against the wall beneath the hatch.

"You won't get away with this," Sam said.

"Oh please," Teresa said, "That is so cliché. 'You won't get away with this'. I am getting away with this, don't you see? And maybe, if he is really nice, I'll let your boyfriend live. He still might take me up on my offer to come with me after all."

"He would do no such thing." Sam glared at her.

"Oh, but you're wrong there," Teresa smiled, "I almost had him tonight. He was quite passionate." She stepped closer to Sam, who had a stricken expression on her face. "But then he had to go running to you. Once you're out of the way, he'll be mine."

"You're mad," Sam whispered.

It pained Tucker to see the desolate expression on his friend's face. He felt a pang of anger at his other friend, his carelessness about her feelings. How could he even have considered going to that crazy woman? Not wanting to see Sam or Teresa's face anymore, he let his eyes wander around the lab, to settle on the control panel of the ghost portal. And that's where he saw it.

Casually, he glanced back at Teresa, who was still standing at the hatch. She hadn't seen what he had seen. He pushed himself away from the wall and stood up straight, wincing slightly when he saw her point the gun at his chest.

"I have to go check the ghost portal," he said, "It needs monitoring when it's open."

He felt Sam's sudden movement next to him, but luckily she kept quiet, obviously guessing he was up to something.

"No," Teresa said, "Stay where you are."

"OK," Tucker said, leaning against the wall again and folding his arms, "It's your funeral."

They were quiet for a moment, Teresa now nervously alternating her attention between Tucker and Sam and the ghost portal. Tucker looked at the ceiling, as if it was very interesting. Teresa took a step closer and hesitated.

"What do you need to do?" she asked.

Tucker shrugged. "You know. The portal is open. Ghosts can come through. I have to keep an eye on the readings and the ecto filter. If something goes wrong there, the thing blows."

He wasn't far from the truth, but she couldn't know he conveniently left out that the portal could be left to its own devices for weeks, as long as they made sure the ecto filter was full. And it was full. Danny had filled it himself only a day ago. She waved the gun.

"Go look, check your ecto whatever," she said, "But nothing funny, or your friend gets it."

Tucker stiffly walked to the control panel and started punching the keyboard and turning knobs. Carefully, making sure he had his body between Teresa and his right hand, he slid it to the object he had seen there.

"Multitasking," he muttered under his breath, "Years of practice." He almost smiled.

---

Time passed, and still he was observing the guards in the small room at the end of the corridor. There were six of them. Problem was, he needed to go through it to get to the door on the other side. On his left, behind the wall, was the courtyard, the exercise area, filled with prisoners and guards. Behind the wall to his right, the ghost zone. If he went human, he'd either have to walk through the courtyard or go outside again. But in the ghost zone, he couldn't move as a human. He could only float. And they'd surely see him there.

For a moment, he considered walking through the courtyard as a human. The ghosts that were prisoner there might leave him alone. The guards on the wall above, however, had a great view on the courtyard. He'd be extremely vulnerable and at a disadvantage.

Through the guards it was. It wasn't like he was going to keep his being here a secret for much longer.

Steeling himself for what he was about to do, he let his fists glow green in preparation. Then, he jumped into the room. The guards didn't know what hit them.

With one blow, he felled two guards, simultaneously kicking another away from him. He got hit with a night stick, which shocked him, but instead of crumbling to the floor like he would have ten years ago, he ignored it, whipped around and grabbed the thing from the startled guard's hands. He yanked it free and then proceeded to use it on the remaining three guards. It was over in less than a minute.

Hovering still in the middle or the room, he took a moment to catch his breath, in a matter of speaking. He wondered if people, when they died and became ghosts, still hung on to the familiar phrases. Catch one's breath. Gone in a heartbeat. He let out a short laugh. Ignoring the floating forms of the ghosts he had knocked unconscious, he flew to the door on the other side of the room and carefully opened it.

Another corridor. More windows. And in the distance, the main entrance hall. Perfect.

He closed the door behind him and let himself glide through the corridor, stopping every now and then at the small windows to his left to glance into the courtyard. He could see ghosts there, wearing striped uniforms, hanging around. Some were playing basket ball. He recognized none of them. Until he saw a fat, bubbly ghost sitting in the corner. Danny stared at him, excitement rising. Harold Daniels. If he was here, then so was the necklace. He only had to get it. And that was when his luck ran out.

---

"One hour," Tucker said, leaning against the control panel, "Are you really gonna shoot us if Danny doesn't make it back in the next hour, Teresa?"

"You'd better hope Danny makes it back here in that time," Teresa said, "Because I don't usually make idle threats."

"But what's the point," Tucker said, trying to sound reasonable, "If he doesn't make it back, it means he's dead. And none of us can go in there and do what he does. Are you just gonna shoot us here in the basement with that gun you're holding and leave us? Because then you still have nothing."

"At least I'll have tried," Teresa said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she didn't trust him, but didn't see how he was deceiving her. Tucker's heart started hammering, willing her to stay at the other end of the basement. She stepped closer. Tucker cleared his throat.

"Why, why don't you sit down for a bit," he said hoarsely, "That gun looks heavy."

She stopped. "Why do you care," she said suspiciously, "What's it to you?"

He gulped. "I really don't want you to shoot one of us by accident, because your hand gets tired or something," he said.

She glared at him, but then stepped up to the table and slowly lowered herself on the rickety chair, resting the hand that held the gun on the table.

"Better?" she asked sweetly.

Tucker nodded. He couldn't speak. His throat just wouldn't cooperate. Sam looked at him hard, seemingly trying to figure out what he was doing. But he knew she would keep quiet. She wasn't stupid. Now, they had to wait.

---

He couldn't have been out for long, at least, he hoped he hadn't been. If it was more than two hours, his friends would be dead. And he'd be responsible. For being stupid. He coughed a little and felt the floor scrape against this face. Slowly, his vision returned to him. Green floor, looking like concrete. Hell, feeling like concrete. He turned his head sideways.

Boots. Black boots, white coat, all the way up. He squinted at the white prison warden, who was towering over him. He was holding something in his hands, something long. He was slapping it against his left hand slowly. Danny felt his insides churn.

"You're really tall from down here," he rasped.

That earned him a slap with the long something in the warden's hands, which turned out to be a whip. He had figured as much.

"Really stupid of you, punk, to come snooping around my prison," Walker said.

"Yeah, well, I'm in a stupid mood today," Danny said, trying to look around the office.

Lots of stuff there. Closets, overflowing. Shelves on the wall, stacked with all kinds of stuff. Danny stared in surprise at something what looked like a toaster. What ghost would steal a toaster and then bring it into the ghost zone? There were books, too, stuffed animals, and boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Danny smiled. He wasn't the only one who the Box Ghost drove crazy.

He rolled on his back and found out his hands were cuffed in front of him.

"Oh, please," he muttered, and tried turn human to let them slide off.

Electricity soared through him, and he screamed. Immediately he stopped the attempt and the shocks stopped. He laid on his back, and waited for his vision to stop swimming.

"Do you like it, punk?" Walker asked, "It's new. I had them especially made for you. They're ghost retainers. You can't access your human side while wearing them. And guess what," Walker leaned down, bringing his face close do Danny's, "They're not coming off."

"Crap," Danny muttered.

This complicated matters. A little. He looked down at the cuffs. They looked like normal metal handcuffs, but they were glowing slightly, in the same faint green glow you could find anywhere in the ghost zone. With some difficulty, he got up, his eyes still wandering around the room. It had to be there somewhere, he was sure of it. But he didn't get the time to look any further.

Hands grabbed him and jerked him backwards, through the door.

"What, no 'judge, jury and executioner' speech?" Danny asked in disappointment.

He really was disappointed, because if he was removed from the room, he couldn't look around anymore to find the diamond. Walker smirked at him.

"You already had that one, punk. Twice. I'm not going to waste another word on it. Get him out of my sight."

The guards dragged him down, and he felt his feet slide on the floor. Before he could regain his footing, they threw him into the courtyard. He landed face first on the ground, hardly able to use his hands to break the fall. The once noisy courtyard went quiet.

He looked up, to find himself in the middle of a large group of ghosts, staring at him. This was not good. He had a reputation. Ghosts didn't like him very much. The first one to speak up confirmed this.

"Well, look who's here," a thin, snakelike ghost said. Danny vaguely remembered capturing it about a year ago. The ghost bend forward. "If it isn't the ghost boy. Phantom himself. At our mercy. Right, guys?"

Laughter. Danny closed his eyes and thought of Sam. How much time had passed? Did he still have time? If Teresa had killed her, he might as well stay here. His life would be over. A ghost kicked him in the ribs and he rolled over, curling into a ball. When down on the ground, try to protect your vitals. He looked at the cuffs again. Then he smiled.

He waited until they were touching him again, four ghosts holding him, while two of them landed their fists on him, and then he reached for his human side again. Electricity soared through him and he screamed, and so did the ghosts holding him. They blew away from him, smoking. He let go of his warm human side and crumpled to the floor, still twitching.

Some time passed, and he looked up, to see what they were doing. They were standing about ten feet away from him now, still in a circle, not daring to come any closer. They got the message, which was good, because he really didn't feel like doing that again. He searched the faces of the ghosts, until he settled on one familiar face in the back.

"Harold Daniels," he said.

The ghost stared at him, and then came forward.

"I know your wife, Teresa," Danny proceeded.

He hadn't anticipated the ghost's reaction. From a frightened, bubbling, insignificant ghost he suddenly started screaming, his red eyes flaring. Danny couldn't make out what he was screaming about, but he guessed he was less than pleased with his widowed wife.

He rolled over on his stomach, pushed himself up on his knees and watched the angry ghost with interest. When he had about enough, he took a deep gulp of air and let out a small portion of his ghostly wail.

That silenced him. It also drove the other ghosts further away from him. On the down side, it also brought down the guards with their night sticks. Danny was getting tired of this. He turned around and snarled at them. It didn't stop them, but it did slow them down. He turned back to Harold.

"Look," he said, "You're upset with your wife. I get it. Want to tell me about it?"

The guards were still standing close by, watching him. Danny slowly got to his feet, making sure not to make any sudden movements that would encourage them to start hitting him. He didn't have time for that.

"The bitch murdered me," Harold wailed, and then his small eyes narrowed and he looked almost gleeful. "But I got back at her. I found out where she hid it, and I took it. And then that girl came and put me in here!"

"Do you know where it is?" Danny asked.

The ghost grinned, and then his face turned suspicious. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, "It's mine, mine! I kept it safe all those years. It's mine to keep! You have no right to take it away from me! You bastards!"

With that, he flung himself at the guards, screaming and wailing. The guards, of course, started hitting him and everybody else who was standing nearby, which was practically everybody but Danny, who quickly stepped away from the brawl. He watched them for a moment, and then quietly walked to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard at the door asked.

"Out," Danny said, and then he hit the unsuspecting ghost with an ice beam from his eyes, freezing him to the wall.

Then he directed the beam at the handcuffs to see if they would withstand the cold. They didn't. With a snap, the chain between them broke in two. They weren't gone from his wrists, but at least he could move around more easily. He didn't want to try freezing the cuffs off his wrists, for fear he'd freeze his hands in the process.

Casually, he walked out of the courtyard, into the main entrance hall. He turned left, walked leisurely up the stairs and entered Walker's office. The white ghost warden looked up in surprise from his desk.

"W-what?" he got out.

Danny didn't waste time, but froze him on the spot.

"You know," he said conversationally, "You really should be careful who you do business with. Those cuffs? Worthless. You're getting complacent, Walker."

The ghost warden could do nothing but scowl at him. Danny checked the ice around him and then started rummaging through the junk that was on the shelves. He looked in all the boxes (empty), behind the toaster, emptied a box full of 'Nasty Burger Funny Food' toys (what ghost... Oh. Youngblood), and in general made a mess of the office. He refroze Walker when he started showing signs of melting, and turned his attention to the desk.

"Hm," he said.

He had frozen Walker to his desk. No way to look into it now... bad planning on his part. He studied the desk. There was always a way around it.

---

Detective Sawyer put his head against the door, listening intently. Inside, he heard a vague murmur of voices. Not good. They'd hear him. He looked at his watch, and then at the door again. Time was running out. He'd have to act now, he couldn't wait for the SWAT team to turn up and find only dead hostages.

He took out his wallet and morosely looked at the contents. He took out the credit card he used the least, and pocketed the wallet again. He bend the edge some, and then stuck it between the door and the door frame, pushing until he heard a soft click. The door opened and he peered through the thin gap. Light was on in the hallway. A brightly lit square directly behind the door. A hatch, standing open.

"The basement, of course," Sawyer thought.

He pushed the door further open, praying it wouldn't crack. The murmur of voices grew louder, and he heard a man talking.

"Really, Teresa, I don't understand. Why him and not me? What has he got what I haven't? Why does he get all the action?"

"Would you just shut up for a moment!"

Sawyer smiled. He knew that voice all too well. Teresa Daniels, in person. Holding hostages. She was going down, even without the necklace. Sinking to his knees, he peered into the basement. He saw Teresa, sitting at a table, her back to him, and the feet of a man, standing, leaning against something. He took a deep breath and crawled forward, taking out his gun.

"This is stupid," he thought to himself, "I really should wait for the SWAT team."

But he knew their time was running out. It was almost time. She would shoot them. Now or never. He grabbed hold of the edges of the hole in the floor and silently jumped down.

"Police," he shouted at the startled woman, "Drop your gun!"

She stared at him. She had turned her head, but the gun was still pointing at the black man standing near some kind of machine next to a strange swirling green... something. Sawyer purposefully didn't look at it, but instead kept his eyes on the woman. The black man went down into a crouch. The woman standing to Sawyer's right did the same, trying to make herself a smaller target.

"Drop it!" Sawyer shouted again.

He really didn't want to go shooting in here, not only for fear of hitting innocent people, but also for fear of hitting the strange machine. He didn't know what it was, but he suspected it was ghost related, and it looked like it would blow up if he hit it.

Teresa dropped the gun.

"Kick it away from you," Sawyer said, and to his dismay his voice sounded hoarse with tension.

She complied, and the woman dressed all in black bend over to pick it up.

"Leave it," Sawyer said, "Fingerprints."

She nodded in comprehension. Sawyer cautiously approached Teresa Daniels, who was staring at him teary eyed. She looked small and vulnerable, but Sawyer wasn't buying it.

"On the floor. Lay down. Put your hands behind your back."

She did what he said, and he quickly cuffed her. Then he relaxed somewhat. He stood up, stepped into her view and quietly read her her rights.

"Do you understand your rights?" he asked her.

She grumbled in response. "

"I take that as a yes," Sawyer said.

"Man, am I glad to see you," The black man at the machine said, "I didn't know if it would work, if you would hear us."

"What did you do?" the woman in black asked, but she didn't wait for his answer, instead turning to Sawyer. "I'm Sam Manson, this is Tucker Foley," she said.

Sawyer nodded at them, and then answered her question.

"I got a call. Mr Foley here must have dialed my number. I could hear you talking. Took me a while to figure out where you were, though."

Manson's eyes grew wide, and Teresa grumbled something unintelligible from the floor. They all ignored her. Foley grinned, and held up a phone, which had been laying on the control panel.

"Danny's cell phone. He left it laying here. And he forgot to erase the messages on the answering machine this morning, so I had to listen to them again. I knew he called detective Sawyer, I just hoped he did it with his cell. He did, I recognized the number from the list of dialed numbers and pressed the button. That's all, really."

Manson nodded, and then looked at the ghost portal.

"Care to explain that?" Sawyer asked.

"The ghost portal," Foley said, and then his face fell. "Danny's in there."

Sawyer saw them looking at each other, and something passed between them. He didn't know what it was, but they both looked worried.

"Mr Fenton said it was impossible to retrieve the necklace," he tried.

Manson nodded, but then shook her head. "If anyone can do it, he can," she said, "I just hope..."

She didn't finish her sentence. Sawyer looked at the strange glowing green and shivered. Foley cleared his throat.

"How long...?" he asked.

"We keep it open until he comes back," Manson said.

There was a finality to her voice that cut off any objections Foley might have made. Sawyer sighed and sat down on the chair at the table, keeping a keen eye on his captive on the ground. He glanced at his watch.

"SWAT team takes its sweet time to get here," he commented, and then, "I'd better call them, tell them it's all over anyway."

As he was speaking to the commander of the SWAT team, who was thoroughly pissed off at him, he watched the ghost hunters standing at the portal, looking apprehensively at the moving green substance. Sawyer purposefully didn't look at it. It made his stomach churn.

"Another police car is coming," he informed them, "To pick her up. They'll be here within ten minutes."

They nodded vaguely at him. Manson stepped closer to Foley, and he put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. They looked scared. The two hours were almost gone. If Fenton didn't come out now, he might never come out.

A rumble, and something burst through the portal in a cloud of dust and debris. A bright flash, and someone screaming, "Shut it! Shut the portal!"

Foley slammed his hand on the button, and the steel doors closed with a swoosh. The man – Fenton, Sawyer thought – rolled out of the way, grabbed something from a box and fired at the green apparition that had come though the portal with him.

"Sam, thermos!" he yelled.

Sawyer started coughing from the smoke, and he heard Teresa Daniels whimper on the floor. Holding his hand in front of his mouth, he tried to see what was happening. Manson had grabbed something from a shelf on the wall and was pointing it at the ghost, who was trying to hit Fenton with something that looked suspiciously like a night stick. Fenton yelped in pain, rolled away and fired at the ghost again. The shot made his whole hand glow green.

The ghost was thrown back against the doors of the ghost portal, and at that moment Manson pressed a button on a cylindrical device. A blue vortex appeared, encapsulating the ghost. With a ghostly scream, it was sucked inside, deforming as it was pressured into the small space.

A silence settled over the basement. Sawyer only heard the ragged breaths of the ghost fighters. And his own, he realized. Slowly, he willed his breathing to slow down, taking long, deep breaths.

Fenton was laying on the floor, on his back, staring at the ceiling...laughing? Manson rushed over to him and hugged him.

"Danny!" she said, "Are you alright?"

A bit awkwardly, Fenton brought his hands up and hugged her back.

"Sure," he gasped, "No... problem... walk in the... park."

"Did you get it?"

They all looked up, startled at Teresa's voice. It was then that Fenton noticed Sawyer. He raised his eyebrows at him, and then took a closer look at Teresa.

"Oh," he said, "I see you don't really need me."

He grinned viscously and held out his hand. In it, a necklace, glittering in the pale lamplight of the cellar. A dozen small diamonds, and one huge diamond in the middle.

"Harold sends his love," Fenton continued, and Sawyer was surprised at the dark undertone in the man's voice, "He said, and I quote, 'The bitch murdered me'. So maybe..." he directed his gaze at Sawyer, "An exhumation is in order. Did they do a post mortem on the guy?"

Sawyer shook his head. "Probably not. It was the circumstances in which he was found you see. The doctor had no doubt it was a heart attack, and since Mrs Daniels here only inherited debts..."

"What circumstances?" Foley asked.

"Well," Sawyer said, smirking a little, "It seems that Mrs Daniels here had a... peculiar taste. In bed. If you catch my drift."

They stared at him, and then at Teresa on the floor, who looked furious.

"I don't want to know," Manson said, and then, turning to Fenton, who was now sitting up, rubbing his wrists, "What did you do with her?"

He stopped and stared at her. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"You went to visit her tonight."

"Yes." He was quiet for a moment. "I did. She tried to persuade me to go and look for the diamond, but I wouldn't. She offered it to me, offered herself to me. Nothing happened, Sam. I walked away."

"Why?"

Fenton turned to Teresa on the floor, who had asked the question. He studied her.

"You're beautiful," he admitted, "But if you take away that beauty, there's nothing left. It's only the surface, Teresa. Inside, you're rotten. I don't like you."

Teresa gasped, and Sawyer's eyes widened at the insult.

"I'll haunt you," she hissed at him, "I'll haunt you for the rest of your life1"

Fenton looked tired. "Yeah," he said, "You and everybody else. What's taking that squad car so long?"

The squad car chose that moment to arrive, and Teresa was swiftly escorted outside. Sawyer got busy, collecting the gun, instructing the policemen, and then finally told the three ghost hunters to keep themselves available, since he might have more questions for them. Then he left, knowing it was going to be a long night.

---

"Was that wise, to say that to her?" Sam asked Danny, "About her being rotten on the inside?"

He was sitting on the sofa in her apartment, and she was wrapping bandages around his wrists. He knew the wounds would be gone in the morning, but he let her do it anyway. It was nice, sitting here on her sofa, feeling her cool hands on his arms.

"Probably not," he admitted, "But it was true. Amazing how something so beautiful can be so... ugly."

Sam started cleaning up the first aid kit, putting everything she hadn't used inside.

"So Walker had it," she said, trying to get him to talk.

"Yup," he said, "He had it in his office. Took me forever to find it between all that junk he keeps there. I'm wondering if he's breaking his own rules... Anyway, turned out he had it in his desk. Of course, I froze him to his desk, so I had to dismantle it from the rear side. He didn't like that. Luckily, the desk contained not only the necklace, but also the keys to those stupid handcuffs he had especially made for me."

Sam pointed at his wrists. "They caused that?"

Danny nodded. "They prevented me from going human. Luckily, they couldn't withstand my ice powers. Walker got a bad deal on them. I expect Technus will be hearing from him."

Sam laughed a little, but then got serious.

"Next time, he's not going to go so easy on you anymore."

Danny got a distant look in his eyes. "There won't be a next time," he said curtly.

He leaned back against the back of the sofa, feeling warm and fuzzy and very, very tired. He had been up since seven that morning, running around town, then capturing a ghost at a house just out of town, then Teresa, then Walker's prison... Thoughts were swirling through his mind, and he hardly noticed when Sam sat down next to him. Without thinking, he raised his arm and she crawled under it, snuggling up to him.

"What time is is?" he muttered, trying to keep his eyes open, but failing miserably.

"Two in the morning," Sam said.

"Oh."

He was breathing evenly, and Sam thought he had fallen asleep. Not so.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I don't know. I just am."

"Don't be. I'm not."

"You're not?"

"Nope."

"OK... that's good, then..."

His voice trailed off. Sam looked up at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. She smiled at him and then closed her eyes.

"Sam?"

She groaned. "Go to sleep, Danny."