Fire

It was dark, it was quiet and it was everything people might describe a calm night as. Nothing moved, except for him. The ground stayed still as he shuffled along the corridor like it stretched along forever and he had to preserve his energy to reach the end. Forever was long and the end unreachable, but if he was anything, it was determined to keep going. His skin was prickling, undecided between feeling too warm or too cold, buzzing with an energy that was invisible but Danny felt like it would be green. Green, green, green, like anything seemed to be through these eyes.
(He'd rather feel blue right now.)

His lungs were still, waiting for the right time to deflate. Almost automatically, like someone else was in control, his gloved hand reached up to the door and knocked, once, twice, he waited.

A hushed whisper, more concern than surprise, this had happened too often. "Danny?" Hands pulled him into the room, closed the door behind him and set him down on the bed that wasn't his own but might as well be. "What happened? Come on, talk to me."

Red strands of hair, fluttering in and out of the edges of his vision, reminded him that he was safe. They also looked like fire and fire reminded him of what he'd run from. (Definitely too warm.)

"I just ran," he said, not thinking, just letting go of the thoughts circling his mind. "I ran, but I feel like it's still there."

Maybe, if he hadn't felt like everything was flickering around him, trapping him within himself, he would have been able to stop Jazz's face from looking all blurred. (Focus.)

"Ran? From what?"

He could still hear it, feel it, shuffling closer like an inevitable force to suffocate him before taking care of the rest. Against all reason, his core, his human core, his deepest center had screamed at him to help, to run in there and to help, help, help, help! (Please, someone, help him.)

"It was everywhere. I couldn't see."

"Danny, what happened, exactly? Did you get hurt?" Unconsciously, he glowed brighter, a shiver moving up his spine and Jazz's. "You're colder than usual," she remarked quietly.

"I'm a ghost, I don't get hurt by normal things, I get hurt by ghostly things. Why did it hurt?" He was mumbling, gripping his hair, panic flooding his veins like it was being chased by his weak attempts at cooling himself down.

Gently, Jazz was holding his hands, squeezing them reassuringly. "Why did what hurt? Are you injured? Danny, focus, I need to know what's wrong so I can help you."

"I just wanted to help," he tried to say, choking his words halfway through. (Tears couldn't drown the flames.) "It was too hot, everywhere and I couldn't think and I would have done something but all I could focus on was how everything felt like it was burning-"

"Breathe, Danny, it's okay, you're save now. Keep going."

Breathing didn't work, instead he just squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if his brain had frozen by accident, or melted before he had been able to change.

"I didn't save them. I wasn't fast enough, the fire was too much, I'm so sorry, Jazz, I don't know what happened."

Just like he clung to his ghost half like a lifeline, he clung to his sister, not minding this kind of warmth. Maybe, with her help, he would wake up in the morning and not feel the green buzz fighting the heat, instead just feeling blue and cry for the loss, not the pain. (And maybe he would think clearly, realize pain came from loss and fire was energy, light and not just destruction.)