If you're one of the people that've been following this story since the beginning last year, I highly recommend giving the first couple chapters a reread as we come up here on the final two chapters, in order to receive the full impact. Optional, of course, but I very strongly recommend it.
. . .
Yellow Elevator #2
. . .
I understand that I exist in the between
of what was and what will be in those blurry vision scenes
that appear and pass us by and for a moment get you high,
'til you find your way back down.
Become the truth you've found.
(The Black Angels, 2010)
. . .
Hand in hand the three friends fly over the city. The wind howls around them; clouds blew in overnight and now hang so low over the city in some places that the highest stories of the tallest buildings fade into gray. It takes only ten minutes to get across the city. When he descends towards his own street he ducks into an alley (the same alley where Clockwork reminded him that dying blows) and transforms back. The sun is coming up over the mountains and it looks distinctly like they're on fire, but it won't be out for long before it moves behind the clouds. Already shadows have begun to engulf the city block.
In tense silence they head up the street toward Danny's house. Danny really isn't sure what he expects to find at this point, or what he expects to say. They're still a few houses away when he sees her.
Out in front of FentonWorks Valerie is sitting on the steps, and rises when they near her. She shows no surprise at all to see him awake. To see him here. They approach her warily, Tucker and Sam flanking him on each side, and Valerie crosses her arms, unimpressed. It's obvious she doesn't appreciate being treated like a loose panther.
"You never told me about your portal accident."
Danny flinches. He rests one hand on the decorative orb at the bottom of the banister, highly aware of the tactical advantage she's placed herself in by standing on the top stair with her back to the door. She's already viewing him as a threat. Doesn't bode well. "It never came up," he offers weakly.
"So," she says. "What's the story? I know you're different. There's something…" She trails off, biting her lip hard. What the hell are you? he hears, and blinks hard to rid the voice from his head. Staying grounded in the present is a physical exertion. "I don't know what it is. But it's there, Danny, and apparently it always has been. I deserve to know." There's strength in her stance but her eyes are only sad. "It's like I don't even know who you are. I guess I never did."
The betrayal on her face stirs up some intense and negative emotions. She's not being fair. It's not like he's the only one in the wrong here. "We've all got our secrets," he snaps defensively.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snaps back.
Moving onto the first stair between them in a not-so-subtle attempt to defuse the rising tension, Tucker shoots Valerie an unreadable look. "It means what it means, Valerie."
"What did you say to his parents?" Sam interjects, clearly unable to wait any longer.
Valerie glares at her. "I didn't tell them anything. Relax. I just asked questions. Whatever your freaky secret is, they don't seem to know it."
With a snarl Sam tries to stomp up the stairs but Tucker thrusts his arm out to stop her. "Listen, Valerie, I know you're confused but there's nothing wrong with Danny. We can explain all of this."
"So explain it!" she bursts, throwing her hands out, addressing Tucker only now, since he's placed himself at the head of the party. "Explain how his injury healed at a gazillion times the rate it should've. Explain why you three were hiding out at my house for three days. Explain why you couldn't take him to a hospital, like anyone who wasn't totally insane would have. Oh, and maybe you can explain how he phased through my bedroom wall like a ghost. Maybe we should start there, huh Tucker? Maybe we should start there."
Danny wonders if he looks at sick as he feels.
"All valid questions," Tucker chuckles nervously. "But we really need to see Danny's parents. He's been missing for four days now. We need to go see them. They probably think he's dead, Valerie."
Valerie refolds her arms, staring Danny right in the eye. "Maybe I think he's dead."
On the other side of Tucker, Sam snorts. "Come on Valerie, you don't really think that."
The stone cold look in Valerie's eyes say otherwise.
"Val," Danny says hopelessly. "I know this is crazy but I can't give you all the answers you want right here and now. You have to give me time. Don't you trust me?"
Valerie considers his words and pushes past Tucker down the steps onto the sidewalk where Danny stands. Instinctively he takes a step back, turning his shoulder toward her, his chest away toward the street. Defense 101. But it's the wrong move and he knows it instantly.
When she speaks again her voice is very level, like she's been practicing these words all morning. "If you leave without explaining this, then no. I will never trust you again and I can't be held accountable for what I'll do to figure you out."
So there's nothing to be done about it then. He can't just open up with his whole life story here, not when he's seen what happens when he goes all in for the whole truth. He needs more time but she won't give in, and beyond this door his parents are waiting. He closes his eyes to shut out the blinding threads. It feels like they're strangling him. I know I have to make a choice but how do I know what's right when every direction seems wrong?
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he casts his eyes downward.
"Well, this blows. I always hoped we'd get back to being friends someday, after you worked through all that stuff you thought you had to do."
Valerie narrows her eyes. "Still working through it."
"I know," he replies grimly. "We all have our secrets. Guess I'll be seeing you around, then."
"Yes," she agrees. "You will."
As she stalks away down the street, Danny can't fight the feeling that he's just made his most formidable enemy. But he moves up the stairs anyway. He's made his trade. Valerie's trust for his parents'. There's no going back now.
But of course, that's assuming he can convince his parents.
"Guys?" he says softly, one hand on the doorknob. "I think maybe you should wait outside." They try to argue but Danny already decided this a long time ago. Years ago. When it came time to face his parents, he's always known he should do it alone.
The door creaks open. Where's Jazz? His parents are whispering loudly in the kitchen. He pushes through a vein of threads down the hall and into the dining area, wondering idly if he's following the threads or if they're following him. Jack and Maddie are standing by the sink and at first they don't see him.
"Hi," he announces meekly.
Silence. Stares. Then, commotion. In their excitement and relief they're spouting so many words and questions that Danny can't understand anything they're saying. Jack scoops him up into a crushing bear hug before Maddie rushes forward to pry Danny loose, scolding Jack and then launching an inspection and questionnaire on Danny's health.
"I'm fine," Danny insists a little brusquely, though he's relieved to see his parents in a non-battle setting. He's missed them terribly. His parents, not the ghost hunters.
Jack ignores Maddie's inspection and tugs Danny into another hug. "Where have you been, Danno? We were worried to pieces. Phantom was here and he said you'd been captured or somethingㅡ"
"I'm fine," Danny interjects again. He really wants to stress that. "Seriously. Safe and sound."
Maddie pulls him out of his dad's embrace and takes his face in hand, like she's switching her inspection from physical to mental. "One of your old friends was just here, asking some odd questions. Why would she want to know if you've ever had any mishaps with our lab equipment?"
"Um…"
Danny averts his eyes but Maddie doesn't release her hold on his cheeks. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, Danny? Why did Phantom seem to know something had happened to you? What did happen? Did Phantom kidnap you? Or did he save you?"
She sounds incredulous at the last possibility, but definitely open to it. That's good news, right?
"Lots of questions," Danny laughs anxiously. "Maybe you guys should sit down."
Reluctantly they follow his direction, and exchange loaded glances as Danny teeters between sitting and standing, finally deciding to stay standing. Should he lie to them or tell the truth? He could tell them everything and just hope against hope that their love for him outweighs their dedication to the facts. Or he could lie and say he was captured by a ghost and Phantom saved him. He was good at lying, and he was sure he could cook up something believable. It would certainly be easier.
But it would complicate telling them the truth about his life in the future. He grows dizzy as the threads increase steadily in quantity, transforming the dull kitchen into a dazzling place as he struggles to decide. So many paths. So many outcomes. So many choices. So many lives.
"Danny?" Jack asks. "Are you alright?"
Danny looks up and sees his dad rising from his chair, rushing toward him. But the wrinkles are gone from under his eyes. His hair is all black, no gray, and he's tall. So very, very tall. He bends down on one knee and retrieves a collapsible first-aid kit from a cargo pocket at his side.
"That must've been quite a tumble!" he says, rummaging through it. "Good thing I always carry this. Aha!" Triumphantly he holds up a bandaid and begins to unwrap it. "There. All better. Like it never happened. And we should probably pretend it didn't, too. Your mom doesn't need to know I was letting you slide down the stairs on the wakeboard, right?"
Danny grins and vigorously shakes his head. His dad grips his shoulders hard, looking concerned. Danny shakes off the confusion and brushes his dad off, who doesn't look any less worried.
"You look like you're gonna faint, Danny."
Maddie appears at Jack's side, worry equally dominating her face. "What's wrong, honey? You know you can tell us anything. It doesn't matter what it is."
"It does," Danny says. "It matters." He looks away, and sees someone running down the hall in his peripheral vision. A little streak of light trails off where they'd been. Unable to abate his sudden rush of hope he rushes to the archway and peers out into the hallway toward the stairwell.
"Where are you going?" he hears faintly from the kitchen, but the words are so far away. He steps into the hall.
"Jazz?" he calls.
It must be her. Who else would it be? He eyes the strand of light that led down the hall. Maybe if he just… The second he touches it the hall floods with light and everything is different. The paint on the walls is lavender instead of blue, and orangeish evening light floods the area outside the kitchen. A ball rolls out from from his bedroom upstairs, and Danny climbs upward toward it. A tiny redheaded girl comes flying out of the bedroom. She picks up the ball and tears away toward her own room in a fit of laughter. A smaller boy comes running out next to call her a handful of mean names.
Danny stops at the top of the stairs, looking down in amazement at the little boy. He tries to speak to him. The boy turns his way, looking around like perhaps he heard something. But he quickly loses interest and runs off to retrieve the stolen ball.
Watching him disappear into Jazz's room, Danny stands stock still among the flowing lights, knowing that he's missing something crucial. There's something here just beyond his reach. He eyes the nearest of the strings, and for a moment he can hear it buzzing with life. Sam's words come back to him. Maybe we're looking at the problem from the wrong angle.
He follows himself down the hall and peeks into Jazz's room.
The only person inside is his mother. She's folding laundry on Jazz's bed. She brushes her hair out of the way; it cascades down to the middle of her back. A nostalgic smile tugs at him. He remembers when her hair used to be that long. Suddenly she notices him.
"Hi, honey. Is the boy that was here yesterday going to be coming over to play again today? I liked him. What was his name?"
"Tucker," Danny answers.
"Right, that was it. Tell him he's welcome for dinner whenever he wants, would you?"
Danny nods, grumbling when she ruffles his hair as she passes him by with the empty laundry basket. "Yes, mom."
He watches her go. A trail of bright threads flare up in her wake and he suddenly remembers that this all happened years ago. He almost forgot. He moves his hand close to one of the threads but doesn't touch it, listening intently. Inside it he can hear voices, like a radio station on the verge of coming into range. Interesting. He's been thinking of the threads all this time as physical objects, but the thought occurs to him that perhaps they're not objects at all, but more like empty space. Like the cracks of light under closed doors.
At the bottom of the stairs, his mom turns back toward him. It looks like she's been crying. It's dark and difficult to tell without the hall light on, but he thinks her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. But her face is stoic. "Your father almost called the police this time," she tells him scathingly. "When you move out you can do whatever you like, Danny, but when you live under our house you follow our rules. That means coming home at a reasonable hour."
"You could have at least called," Jack says sadly, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder.
Maddie moves toward her son tentatively, taking the first step onto the stairwell. "You're really scaring us, Danny. Why don't you come back downstairs?"
Danny blinks, steadying himself with one hand on the wall. It's daytime. Is this the present? His parents stare up at him from the first floor. Déjà vu overwhelms him so completely that he has to turn away, and when he does he comes face to face with Jazz.
It's really Jazz.
Her head is bandaged and so is her hand, but she looks otherwise alive and well. Danny almost chokes. "Hey little brother," she offers with a smile, and holds out her arms to him.
He throws himself forward, embracing her with all the strength he has. "Hey Jazz."
"Hey what?"
Danny looks up, dazed. She's gone; her voice came from his bedroom. Peeking into the open doorway from the hall, he sees her there, sitting with himself on his bed. They're younger by a year or two. Glow stars shine down on the two of them from above, and the light of the TV sends blue shadows dancing around the dark room. She's busy wrapping gauze tightly around his knee, and shoots her brother a glance when he doesn't answer her right away.
"Hey what?" she repeats.
On the bed Danny blinks, momentarily disoriented, trying to remember what he'd been about to ask her. His sleep schedule has been off the wall this week and losing his train of thought is the worst part about it. "Nothing," he says. "I'm just mad that they got me this time." He frowns at his kneecap, trying to will the pain away from the second degree burn there. Of course it doesn't work like that. "Dad's aim isn't usually that good," he explains. "I wasn't watching him closely enough tonight."
Jazz sighs and pulls the medical tape out of her sweater pocket to begin sealing off her handiwork. "One of these days they might really hurt you, Danny. You have to tell them before it goes that far."
He shifts beside her uncomfortably. He doesn't like talking about this stuff. It's easier to pretend it doesn't exist. Sam and Tucker understand that, but Jazz will never settle for shoving it under the rug. It goes against her nature. The past few weeks have been kinda nice having her unexpectedly and suddenly in-the-know, but if he's being honest with himself, it was easier for him when she was in the dark. It's easier when everyone is in the dark.
"Hey I… I remembered what I was gonna ask." She stops taping and folds her hands on her lap, waiting patiently for him to find the right words. "If you had to convince mom and dad that ghosts could be good, how would you do it?"
Jazz laughs and lays down, reaching up to push in a loose tack on his NASA poster. "If I knew that I'd have done it already. In order to convince them ghosts can be good, we first have to get them to admit that ghosts are sentient. If we ever accomplish that we'll be on the home stretch."
Back in the hallway, Danny tears his eyes away from the memory. The lights in the house flicker all at once as his mother's voice echoes up from the basement laboratory. "But ghosts aren't sentient."
His legs are numb as he fumbles his way down the stairs. Someone in the basement is screaming. It's him and he knows it. The second stairwell is made of concrete and stretches out to his right, fading down into grey, then black, then fire. Music crackles in his left ear.
"Don't fire!" Tucker shouts in the distance.
Danny moves to the back door on the other side of the living room, drawn to it magnetically. The door is like fog to him, and outside the sun glares down from the west. Tucker shouts again from somewhere in the back alley. "He's too close, Sam! You don't have a clear shot!"
Walking across the backyard toward the broad-armed tree, Danny shields his eyes from the sunlight. He sees himself falling from the sky a few yards away, pursued closely by the ghost that started all of this. It's small but formidable, with long black tendrils fanning out behind it like a deep sea creature, with dark beady eyes that are hungry, cold, and dead. From the ground he watches Phantom returning to consciousness while he falls, struggling to right himself but ultimately crashing through the branches of the towering oak tree and hitting the ground below. He flinches, remembering how the breath was forced from his body.
Sam lurches over the wooden fence, Tucker scrambling after her belatedly, both trying to distract the ghost as Phantom wobbles to his feet. A cold hand grips Danny's lungs. He knows all too well what's about to happen. His head whips toward the back porch as the screen door flies open and ricochets off the wall. Jazz stumbles onto the porch, struggling with the buttons on the side of the thermos.
Danny tries to scream but he's voiceless. A world away. He can only observe as the ghost spots her and makes a beeline for the porch.
Phantom cups his hands around his mouth and bellows, "Jazz, get out of the way!"
She doesn't. She runs to the edge of the back steps, still trying to help. His parents burst onto the scene, coming around from the other side of the house, barreling through the gate with weapons raised toward the sun. But Danny knows they won't get there in time. The only one who can is Phantom, who rockets across the yard to stand between Jazz and the ghost as it raises a tendril to strike her down. Phantom blasts it away.
Across the yard Danny is still voiceless, still trying to scream. It can't happen this way again. It can't. This one mistake. This is it, this is the moment that Clockwork was talking about. The crossroads. The nexus. This is the moment around which everything pivots. This.
But it's happening. The ghost, angry to have been blocked so easily, goes into a frenzy and lashes out all it's tendrils at once, exploding the patio furniture into whirlwind of splinters, metal and wood. Jazz cries out as she flies backwards, then hits her head against the wall and falls limp to the ground. Phantom hits the wall soon after and sinks to his knees, clutching the long warped wire sticking out of his stomach. Danny clutches his own stomach, remembering the pain. The memory of it blinds him, and all around him those tantalizing threads whip on an invisible wind, lashing his skin. The mangled table umbrella is still partially attached to the wire in his stomach, and Phantom rasps when he tries to take a step forward but drags the whole umbrella with him. He braces himself to rip it out. But then he sees Jazz's limp body and falls to one knee again, eyes burning, toxic acid in color.
His parents are there already, Jack picking her up to cradle her in his arms. They turn their hateful eyes on the two ghosts.
"Stop," Danny cries out, and this time his voice is loud and clear. "Stop!" But no one hears him. Phantom bites his knuckles and rips the wire out in one smooth motion. His parents raise their guns as Phantom hurls the entire ruined umbrella at the attacking ghost. "Stop," Danny yells, running full tilt towards them now, having finally found his feet. Desperately he throws out his hand and like a tidal wave the threads rise with it, then just as quickly come crashing down around him in a sparkling display of chaotic light, shattering into a billion symmetrical pieces.
Danny slides to a halt as the ground recedes from beneath him. An endless array of stars surround him on all sides, organized in staggering columns and rows, proceeding neatly into the distance like layers of an infinite mirror. On a faraway frequency he hears himself shouting stop. Leaning toward the nearest star, he listens.
Stop.
He touches the star gently and it implodes. It's not a star at all but as big as a universe, a living, breathing tesseract, and he almost falls into it face first. He staggers backward, almost stumbling into another one.
Time is weird, he hears, you think you know how it works and thenㅡ
The star flits away, leaving a dark void. He moves on to the next one. For what feels like an eternity he sifts through them, peering through pinholes into worlds beyond, until at last he finds one that fits. This star pulses, black and white and every color in between. It's there and also not. Somehow both matter and the absence thereof. It's inside out, he thinks, and outside in at the same time. A star with every other star inside...
He reaches out. It floats on organic whims, an impossible geometric butterfly with wings that span to the edges of one universe, and he has to stand on his toes to take hold of it. As soon as he closes his hand around it the world lurches.
Grass. Sun. Warmth.
Danny opens his hand to find the tesseract is gone. He's found his way home again, somewhat. Everything is frozen in time. Sam is idling in place mid-jump over the fence, Tucker with one hand on the post, about to scramble after her. Phantom is on the ground under the oak, halfway to his feet.
A dignified calm washes over Danny, flooding him through with confidence. At last he understands what he has to do. Man, this feels good. He basks in it, leaning over his frozen self. In all his life he's never felt so powerful. He thinks back on Clockwork's words all those nights ago in the library, when he informed Danny that for the optimal future he would have to compromise an aspect of himself that he held dear. At the time he'd thought Clockwork was hinting that he'd have to play dirty, that he'd need to manipulate his parents to gain their trust. But that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all.
With one hand he grabs Phantom by the arm and pulls him out of his statuesque position to his feet. Phantom blinks, looking around wildly in confusion before settling his eyes on Danny.
"Uh, hello. What's up? Talk about woah," Phantom says. "Can't say I was expecting to see you here today."
Danny grimaces. What a terrible joke. He can kinda see how the dry-humor thing gets old when you're stuck on the receiving end. "I don't have time to explain everything," he begins, "but something bad is about to happen. I'm here to change it."
Phantom raises both eyebrows at him. "Something bad enough to mess around with time? Must have been a real downer. What should I do?" He looks upward at the frozen ghost in the tree branches. "Or uh… not do?"
It's only been a few days since this happened but somehow it feels like an eternity. Danny reaches a hand out to rest it on Phantom's shoulder. It's almost like talking to a younger brother. He wants to protect himself but he knows that the best way is to let himself suffer a little first. "You need to transform back," he says. "Fight this battle as a human."
Phantom is baffled. "What? Why?"
Danny casts a look over his shoulder at the place where he knows their parents will emerge as soon as time resumes. "Because in a few seconds your parents will arrive, and what they see will define the course of your life from here onward."
Phantom whistles. "Well, shit."
"You can do this," Danny urges. "You've gotten through worse. And listen."
Phantom perks up, having become distracted by the ominous ghost in the tree again. "What?"
"Listen. This is important. You need to convince your parents that ghosts are sentient before you can convince them to trust one. Long before."
Phantom blanches. "I know that. But what does that have to do with fighting this ghost? Uh oh. Today's not.. The Day, is it? I dont think im ready for that conversation yet."
"Doesn't matter if you're ready or not," Danny says. "It's coming. You need to take the first step or you're going to trip down the stairs. Trust me."
"But how? They think ghosts are below them. That they're not even lifeforms, or whatever. They think they know everything there is to know already. They aren't gonna listen to me!"
"So change their mind," Danny says. "Make them doubt themselves. Make them doubt everything they know. And if you get stuck… just try looking at the problem from a different angle."
Hitting him with quite the indignant look, Phantom flops dejectedly against the tree. "This might be the worst advice I've ever gotten."
"It's not advice, Danny, these are words to live by." If he doesn't listen then nothing will have been fixed and none of this will have been worth it. He needs to understand. "This is your only choice. I have been down the line and have seen all the others, and this is the only one worth living. You don't have to put your life in their hands, yet, just… shake their worldview. It's time. The rest will follow."
Phantom scratches his neck, staring up at the shadowy ghost. "Right. Shake their worldview… And the first step involves me getting my ass kicked as a human. Sounds like a solid plan."
"Trust me," Danny assures him, "you wouldn't like the alternatives. "
Phantom grins sideways at him, an odd calculating look in his eye. "Y'know," he says, "I have no idea why, but I kinda hate it when you appear the same age as me. It always weirds me out."
Danny matches the grin. "I think it's safe to say that it weirds me out more."
With a single salute, Phantom transforms. Operating on blind trust always means fighting against his better judgement, but he's learned not to argue when timelines are at stake. Human again, Danny looks over to beg one more answer from his unsolicited guide before he vanishes. But of course Clockwork is already gone. There's only empty space where he so recently stood.
Time resumes.