A/N: For monbijou.
Lancer sat down abruptly on the bed. He hadn't heard wrong. The Red Huntress worked for Vlad Masters.
True, their prestigious mayor had once put a one million dollar reward on Phantom's head, but Lancer had assumed Mr. Masters had had a change of heart because the reward had been lifted.
Did Vlad believe, as the Fentons did, that all ghosts—Phantom included—were a menace? Despite Phantom's continued protection of their town? The Red Huntress clearly had no compunctions about hunting down Phantom, and she was an ideal person to hide behind. Unlike Jack and Maddie, no one knew her true identity—except, of course, the mayor. And possibly Phantom and his friends, given how much else they seemed to know.
"It's…. I guess it's more of a surprise than I thought it might be. Given what you know, I mean."
Given what he knew. That Vlad was an old college buddy of Jack and Maddie Fenton's, no doubt. Lancer rubbed his temples. "I wouldn't have thought the mayor would actively try to rid the town of one of its best ghost hunters," he admitted.
"Well…."
Lancer looked up, but Phantom seemed to think better of whatever he'd been about to say. "Well what?"
"He's, ah, not trying to get rid of me, exactly," Phantom said slowly.
Moby-Dick, was Phantom saying that the mayor was ready to experiment on him? That he hadn't left his ghost hunting days behind at all? That made sense, if he truly employed the Red Huntress. Her technology was similar to but still different from anything produced by FentonWorks, yet it was too effective to have been produced without intimate knowledge of ghosts and paranormal technology. Was Vlad collaborating with his old college friends? Did the three of them intend to tear Phantom apart, molecule by molecule?
"Yeah, it's kinda messed up." Phantom was offering him a smile. A smile. Humour in the face of a sickening situation.
"I think this goes beyond that," Lancer said hoarsely.
Phantom's response was a shrug and a wince. Then, "But that's why I'm the focus, not my friends. And why you can't tell anyone else."
Lancer let out a slow breath. "Mr. Masters is already aware of your helpers." Phantom had told him as much before, but he nodded again anyway. Lancer was mostly trying to get the facts straight. "Despite this, he hasn't used them against you? Tried to bargain with them?"
Phantom groaned. "Okay, fine, he tried using Jazz against me once, even wanted us to fight each other, but it didn't work like he'd planned. Obviously, we didn't want to really fight each other, so we just kinda put on a show until…. It doesn't matter. Point is, he hasn't tried something like that again. I think he realized that's never going to work. Like, ever."
Lancer pursed his lips. "If he has ghosts in his employ, what's stopping them from kidnapping someone and holding them hostage until you give yourself up?"
Phantom stared at him. "Because I'd win. I'd find them and beat them. They all know that. Even if I had to get help to do it, I'd win."
"Always?"
Phantom frowned. He could hear the skepticism in Lancer's voice. "Vlad's tried a lot of different things. Nothing's worked, and he's not stupid enough to keep reusing the same tactics over and over. I mean, not for everything. He knows how important the others are to me, but he also knows how easily I can get allies when it really matters. I don't just mean ghosts, either. The Red Huntress and I have called truces before. If I brought her in on this, he'd have to do some fancy footwork to keep his dirty work from her. She doesn't know about all the ghosts that work for him or about anything to do with me. She wouldn't still be working for him if she did."
"You seen awfully confident in your assessment of her."
"I know her better than she thinks I do, including what misunderstandings led to why she hates my guts. She's a good person, just…really, really misguided."
"And in the employ of the mayor." He hesitated. "Is she aware of his true identity?"
Phantom didn't answer right away. Then, "She knows he's the mayor, if that's what you mean."
Lancer had no idea what else he could mean, but Phantom clearly had something in mind. Lancer filed that bit of information away for later; instead of pursuing that line right now, he could pick apart some other information Phantom had volunteered. "You said you had allies. Am I right to assume this includes ghosts you don't fight with regularly?"
"Well, yeah."
"And your friends have met them?"
Phantom nodded. "I mean, I don't think Jazz knows everyone, but the others do."
Perhaps that explained young Mr. Fenton's whereabouts. He'd phoned their household this morning to request an update, but he hadn't gotten an answer until Jack and Maddie had driven past his house with a loudspeaker, alternating between calling for Danny and threatening the ghosts that surely had him. (He rather thought that was what had woken Phantom, though he couldn't be sure without asking.)
"And will the ghosts help them?" Lancer asked carefully.
Another nod. "Sam and Tucker have stolen the Spectre Speeder to go into the Ghost Zone more than once."
Because Danny was preoccupied or because this wasn't the first time he'd gotten hurt? The thought gave Lancer pause. Danny had been quite insistent about not going to the hospital. Perhaps this really wasn't the first serious injury he'd attained in his exploits helping Phantom. Perhaps that had simply been his assumption and Phantom hadn't corrected him. Why would he, when he was trying to argue so vehemently that he could protect them all?
Had Sam and Tucker come to take Danny to a rendezvous point where he could be collected by one of Phantom's ghostly allies? Had Jazz managed what they could not? Was Danny in the Ghost Zone right now, being attended to by the spirits of doctors who retained enough relevant knowledge of human biology to put their skills to use? He couldn't discount the idea, not when he'd met other ghosts who were clearly the spirits of those who had passed on from this world—Phantom included, as far as he could tell.
Lancer had no idea how much knowledge and technology from their world had made its way into the Ghost Zone, but Lancer hoped—if his suspicion was right, and especially if this wasn't the first time—that those ghost doctors did more good than harm. He'd always understood that Jack and Maddie Fenton regularly wore HAZMAT suits to reduce the risk of contamination—however many times they had to change suits for that to be the case—so if Danny were immersed in the Ghost Zone itself….
"Um, before you jump to any conclusions, they don't only go into the Ghost Zone whenever I need help. Sometimes we explore it together, and Sam's good friends with Dora, so she'll go there on her own, too."
Dora. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Lancer couldn't place it, and he didn't want to fall for Phantom's bait and ask. Phantom would only too gladly latch onto a change of topic and lead the conversation away from more important points. "Is the Red Huntress aware of what your friends do for you? Of the risks they take?"
Phantom bit his lip. "I don't think so," he admitted. "I mean, she's gotta know they know their way around an ecto-gun, and she definitely knows they support Phantom, but most kids in school do, so that's not really surprising. And she's seen us together before, but I don't think she, um, knows how actively they help me. We're trying not to give her too many clues about who I am."
Too many clues about who Phantom is? Or was? Back when he was…alive?
Phantom let out a nervous laugh. "It gets, um, complicated. And she might shoot me anyway. Because I never told her. About a lot of stuff, not just this. I just…. You don't need to worry about her. She won't hurt my friends. Or you, if she figures out you're involved. She only has a thing against ghosts, and you're all human. If I told her everything, she'd probably back off me, too, but I…. I can't do that right now, okay? I can't."
"I would hardly force you to spill your secrets to someone who actively hunts you down," Lancer pointed out, but Phantom didn't look remotely convinced.
"Yeah? Even when it's not just her who should know?" Phantom pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. "You don't need to keep dancing around the subject, Mr. Lancer. I know you think I need to tell my parents."
His parents?
"But I'm not ready yet, and I need you to respect that. That's why I don't want you to tell anyone, especially them. They can't learn something like this from someone else. If anyone tells them, it has to be me, and it has to be on my terms. It's my secret."
My secret. This wasn't the first time Phantom had said referred to it as such, but it was the first time Lancer had realized there was more to Phantom's secret than the help he was getting from Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.
And for Phantom to talk about his parents so casually, as if they were here, in Amity Park….
Lancer swallowed.
He'd known Phantom was young.
He just hadn't realized what that meant.
"Your parents," he said carefully, "truly have no idea who you are?" He could see how it might happen. For all that Phantom looked human enough, it was highly doubtful that he was the spitting image of who he'd been when alive. Coupled with the fact that his parents wouldn't be expecting to recognize any of the ghosts, they'd never think to see their son in one of them. Of course, Lancer had no children of his own, only his students, but he'd like to think—
Phantom shook his head. "Jazz says they wouldn't be hunting me if they did."
Lancer blinked. His parents were hunting him? True, far more adults than children were disgruntled with Phantom (and all the damage from the ghost fights), and most households had a few FentonWorks weapons on hand, just as he did, but actively hunting down ghosts—Phantom in particular—was a different matter entirely.
"Would…would that not be preferable?"
Phantom pulled a face. "Not, well…. I mean, yeah, but it's more complicated than that." Lancer raised his eyebrows, and Phantom sighed. "Please, Mr. Lancer, you just need to trust me on this."
"You are asking me to trust you about a rather large number of things."
Phantom straightened up and crossed his legs. "Okay, look. I know the chances of them freaking out and trying to capture and dissect me are pretty small, especially with the others to back me up so they know it's not some trick or whatever they might come up with. But I know where things stand as they are now, and it's not like I don't know how all the FentonWorks weapons work. And Dad's aim is terrible anyway. They've only caught me once."
Lancer couldn't help but stare. "I beg your pardon?"
"I know how to avoid their stuff," Phantom repeated. "And it's just…. It's been so long. And them knowing would change things. I mean, even if they do take it well, even if they accept who I am, what I am, that's not…. That's not going to just erase everything that's happened."
Avoid their stuff?
This wasn't just a matter of Phantom being unsure of how his parents might accept the fact that he had become a ghost.
"They're going to blame themselves," continued Phantom. "For hunting me. For hurting me. For the accident, even though it was an accident, even though they weren't around. I don't want to do that to them. I've gotta…. I need to figure out how to tell them, if I can tell them, and I'm okay with them hunting me if it protects them from the truth. Does that make sense?"
It didn't make a whit of sense, not with what Lancer had been thinking.
"It's…easier, I guess. Safer than changing things."
It's not just people, Phantom had told him. It would be everything.
This was what he'd meant.
"So just…don't tell them. Don't tell anyone. Please."
All things considered, Lancer didn't know very much about ghosts.
He was quickly realizing he knew even less than he'd thought, particularly where Phantom was concerned.
"If you're worried about how guilty they'd feel once they found out the truth," Lancer heard himself say, "how can you say that prolonging telling them will improve things rather than make everything worse? You talk as if you never intend for them to know."
Phantom looked away. "That wouldn't be the worst thing," he mumbled. "You know how my parents are. How do you think they'd take this?"
You know how my parents are. There it was, plain as day. Lancer knew Phantom's parents.
Phantom's ghost-hunting parents.
Who lived here in Amity Park.
It's not like I don't know how all the FentonWorks weapons work.
I know how to avoid their stuff.
"Yeah," Phantom said softly when Lancer didn't reply. "That's what I thought, too."
Lancer didn't understand. He didn't know enough to understand.
They're going to blame themselves, Phantom had said. For hunting me. For hurting me. For the accident.
How could this just be an accident?
Phantom was…. He….
"Jack and Maddie Fenton," Lancer said slowly, "are out searching for their son."
Phantom didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "I don't know exactly what Jazz told them. Maybe they thought she was wrong."
No wonder at the sudden change in topic.
Because it wasn't a sudden change in topic.
If he had asked Phantom if he knew young Mr. Fenton's whereabouts, what would he have been told? Would Phantom have lied? Claimed ignorance? Pretended Danny was with his friends?
"They're worried."
"Yeah, well, knowing the truth wouldn't change anything on that front, either." Phantom slumped back against the pillows he'd set against the headboard. "They're always concerned about their family, but they're also always concerned about what ghosts might be planning. Sam and Tucker told them a ghost had stolen my face once, and they believed that, so…." He trailed off, shrugged, and let out a faint hiss of pain at the movement. "It doesn't matter. Jazz can handle them. She knows I'm with you. This was her idea."
Lancer didn't know how he'd never noticed that Phantom always talked about Sam and Tucker or about Jazz but not about Danny.
"Wh…." It was hard to force his thoughts into coherent words. "Why me? Out of everyone—"
Phantom raised an eyebrow. "It's not exactly out of everyone," he cut in. "There isn't an everyone. That's the whole point. All the ghosts know, but I can count on one hand the number of humans who do. And it's not like I'm going to go to Vlad for this when he's the reason I'm in this mess."
All the ghosts know. Yet none of them had ever used that knowledge against him, even though he clearly feared the fallout if they did and that fear gave them power over him. Leverage.
But while Jack and Maddie Fenton hunted down Phantom, Vlad Masters was…. He was doing more than that. Worse than that. He's not trying to get rid of me. Maybe experimentation wasn't far off, except—
Except Phantom talked like going to Vlad might be an option. For something. At some point. Under particular circumstances. Despite what he's doing now.
The mayor may have discovered Phantom's secret, may be hunting him down like this because of that, but there was something else, something more, something—
Phantom blew out a breath. "And I just…. You know. You know, but you don't look at me differently. You still tried to help."
You know.
But he hadn't known.
You don't look at me differently.
Would he now? He hoped not.
You still tried to help.
Because someone needed his help. Because that was the right thing to do. Not because—
"People of Amity Park, be on the lookout for Danny Fenton!" The announcement was loud enough to rattle the net gun on the bedside table and send ripples through the water glass; this time, Lancer surmised, the Fentons were driving down his street instead of somewhere beyond.
Phantom jerked, grimaced, and muttered, "I guess they're still doing that. Please tell me they don't have the giant billboard again."
He couldn't.
He'd glimpsed it in the distance this morning, and he doubted they'd retired it in the meantime.
Instead, they sat in silence, listening as Maddie Fenton's repeated announcement became muddled by distance and finally faded away.
"I know they're worried," Phantom finally whispered, "but this?" He made a vague gesture to himself. "This isn't even the worst of it. And if telling them everything was so easy and simple, Jazz would've been able to convince me to do it ages ago."
"How is this not the worst?" Phantom was…. He was dead. That's how one became a ghost. By dying. Whatever this was, however it had come to be, that fact wouldn't change.
"It's better if you don't know the details."
"Phantom." Phantom still wouldn't look at him, so Lancer continued, "You already think I'm in danger, and we're taking precautions. Talking to me will hardly put me in more danger. We've been over this."
"Yeah, but this isn't just a one-time thing." Phantom met his gaze now, his bright green eyes boring into Lancer's. "And I'm still not convinced you get that. If Vlad realizes you know as much as you do, he's going to wonder what else you know—or what else you can guess. It's better if you just pretend I'm a normal ghost and don't interfere after this. You don't want to give Vlad a reason to look closer."
"Because of all the ghosts he employs?"
Phantom shook his head. "Because he's powerful. And he's not afraid to use that power to get what he wants."
Lancer let out a slow breath. "What hold does he have over you?"
"My secret," Phantom admitted, though Lancer had already surmised that much, "but that's fine. We've called a truce of sorts on that front. He won't tell on me."
Vlad Masters wouldn't tell the world Phantom's secret, and Phantom wouldn't, what, tell everyone that the mayor was working with the ghosts he hunted? It must be more than that. It wouldn't be terribly difficult for Vlad to lie or otherwise cover up his association with ghosts if it came to that, and his background as a ghost hunter would act in his favour.
But Lancer had seen Phantom fight, time and time again. His conviction that he could win a fight wasn't entirely unwarranted. So why—?
"And you're sure you don't want to remove that power from him?"
"You mean tell my parents my secret so he can't hold it over my head? It's not really that simple. It's not just this. It's everything else, too."
Everything else.
His revelation was only the tip of the iceberg, and Lancer already didn't know what to do.
Phantom was young. Too young. And far more human than Lancer had ever realized. And he was—
"I should just go," Phantom said. "Try to keep you out of danger. Jazz'll understand, especially since I'm doing better. Since Mom and Dad are out, I could probably go through the portal and visit the Far Frozen if I have to." He saw Lancer's expression and added, "It's okay. I've got friends there. They've helped me before, and they definitely wouldn't give me up to Vlad, if that's what you're worried about."
Exactly how much did Amity Park's mayor trust the ghosts he hired if he believed they would not only track Phantom down but fight his allies to get to him? Convincing the ghosts to cause trouble on his terms in this world was one thing, but in the Ghost Zone—? What could Vlad possibly be offering them in exchange for that?
It must go beyond a mutual desire to be rid of Phantom. That still wouldn't give the ghosts free reign, not with the Red Huntress and the Fentons in town, and the ghosts could accomplish that on their own anyway. Why would they bow to the wishes of a mere human, especially when up against someone as powerful as Phantom? They might be able to overwhelm him if they ganged up on him, but Lancer had rarely seen any of the ghosts working together. If they didn't like to work with each other, why would they work with a human?
Vlad wasn't just any human, though. He had the same background as Jack and Maddie Fenton and a lot more wealth to throw around. To Lancer's knowledge, the only way for the ghosts to get into this world was to cross through the Fenton's portal—if ghosts had a way to create them, he hadn't seen it—but the attacks were far too regular for them to have come through a single chokehold like that. Had the mayor built another portal, granting ghosts access to his city, in exchange for their help? In exchange for Phantom? Despite all the damage that resulted from the ghost attacks?
"What exactly does the mayor want with you?" It…. He had to be missing something. The risks were so great, and Lancer couldn't see a guaranteed benefit that would be worth such potentially devastating consequences.
"It's complicated." He could recognize the closed tone in Phantom's voice now. This wasn't just reluctance to tell; it was flat refusal. "He likes to play his cards close to his chest. The Red Huntress doesn't know, either, but she doesn't care. As far as she's concerned, I'm just a filthy piece of ectoplasmic scum, and Vlad's too smart to let her know too much."
Lancer had never noticed how skillfully Phantom could steer a conversation when he wanted to. Phantom had brought up the Red Huntress again to deflect from Vlad Masters, clearly thinking her the safer topic. And, earlier, Lancer would likely have happily pursued it—as a distract for Phantom, if nothing else.
But now….
"How much danger are you in?"
Phantom crossed his arms, a look of defiance plastered across his face. "I can hold my own."
"Because you're confident you'll always win?"
Phantom rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Mr. Lancer. You know that's not just me bragging. You've seen me fight. I'm good. Sure, Vlad's tricked me before, but he's never won any battle that counts. He's still losing the war."
Lancer might question the exaggeration of the expression if he were more certain that it was a mere expression.
"But how much danger are you in?"
"Nothing—"
"How much?"
Phantom's mask finally dropped away, and he wouldn't meet Lancer's eyes. "It doesn't matter. You can't do anything, anyway. Vlad would deny everything and then ruin you to make a point. And it's not really any more danger than I face from my parents."
"It is," Lancer said quietly, "because your parents would stop the moment they discovered the truth."
Phantom snorted. "They'd have to believe it first."
Lancer closed his eyes and took a breath before saying, "They would test the possibility rather than reject it outright; they wouldn't want to risk being wrong."
He didn't think he was wrong. He didn't have to be a parent to have children in his life that he cared about. Knowing he'd missed something this big, this important, was bad enough, especially when he could see so many signs in hindsight that he'd misinterpreted. He sincerely doubted any truly loving relative would find reason to continue any sort of cruelty when there was any doubt to be had whatsoever.
"Fine. Doesn't change the fact that I can handle whatever Vlad throws at me. So, yeah, I guess it's dangerous, but not more so than usual."
"You're just a child—"
"I'm fourteen!" Phantom cried indignantly, and then he seemed to realize that didn't help his case and huffed. "You don't need to baby me. And you can't protect me from this danger. You knowing about it doesn't make me safer; it just puts you in more danger. Why can't you just understand that?"
"Why can you not accept that I am willing to risk myself if I can help you? You came to me for help. You can't deny that sometimes your enemies get the better of you, just as you can't promise that your friends will always be safe, that anyone will always be safe, and believing you will always win is a fool's mistake."
Phantom made a face but didn't say anything.
"I am not asking you to tell me why the mayor is so insistent on hunting you when he knows you are a child. I am not insisting you tell your parents everything before you've had a chance to think through how best to do that. I am asking you to stop endangering yourself and others so recklessly, and I am suggesting that one of the ways you do so is by confiding in me and accepting my help."
Phantom said nothing.
In the distance, they could hear the garbled words of Jack Fenton this time, asking for the help of Amity Park's citizens in finding his son, as the Fentons circled around to continue their search for their son.
"Phantom, it's been too long. They need to know something."
Phantom very deliberately picked up the glass of water from the bedside table and drained it.
"Phantom."
He replaced it without a word.
"Pride and Prejudice," snapped Lancer, not pausing to consider that his conclusion might still be wrong, "if you don't tell me what you want me to say to your parents, Mr. Fenton, I'll come up with something for you!"
