A/N: Any reviews I haven't answered yet, I'm getting to them, honestly.

LOST

Chapter 26: It can only get worse

Amity Park was shining brilliantly in the sunlight. I had to squint my eyes every now and then when I caught the sun's bright beams reflecting in the windows of some building. Somehow, from up here, the town seemed friendlier, cleaner. I could see people down there, walking in the street, small and almost insignificant. Small people with small problems. I smiled a little. I'd love to lose myself in small problems. As I was watching the people down below, I spotted another liquor store. Strange, how many of them there were in this town, or maybe I just never noticed them before. I hesitated, knowing I could just go in there, invisible, and take whatever I needed. If I left money on the counter, it wouldn't even be stealing.

Tempting. But no. I didn't have time for it, and I couldn't afford to have my senses dulled at the moment, however much I wanted to. Besides, I wasn't some alcoholic who couldn't live without his drink. I didn't need it. Also, I felt distinctly hungover. I filed the thought away for later reference and continued on, until I reached the house with the strange contraption on top of it and the huge neon sign reading 'Fenton Works'. My home. Longingly, I looked down at it, noting the fact that the GAV was parked right in front of it, but not Jazz's pink convertible. My parents were home, Jazz wasn't. Now what.

Slowly circling the place, I tried to decide what to do. I needed to go in there for my plan, I needed to be in the lab and I definitely needed the ghost portal. I didn't need my parents present, as much as I wanted to see them. My father's goofy grin came to mind and the friendly smile on my mother's face, and for a moment I wanted to give it all up, just to see them again, to belong again. But that was impossible.

I drifted down until my feet touched the ops center. The ghost shield was off, which didn't surprise me. It required a huge amount of electricity, so to keep the already huge utilities bill within limits – I wasn't sure which limits they had in mind, but that was what I had been told – they only turned it on 'in case of an emergency'. What emergency, they didn't specify. Jazz had waved her hands and had said she'd tell me about it some other time, but she never got around to it since I got arrested. The fact that it was off suited me fine now.

I touched down on the roof and called out my human form. The fact that the ghost shield was off didn't mean that they didn't have all sorts of other ghost detection devices on. I knew they wouldn't pick me up if I was human, and I didn't know the exact range of them. I was pretty safe on the roof and in my own room though, so I let myself sink through the ops center right into my room and dropped down on the bed.

An instant, the world stopped. I was in my room, on my bed, with my computer standing on my desk. Familiar blue walls. The sun shining through the window, making a huge square pattern on the floor. I had lost it, found it and now I lost it again. It was too much. I felt my throat constrict. My hands, my arms, my whole body started to shake. I crawled to the head of the bed, pushed my back against the wall and wrapped my arms around my legs.

I shouldn't have come here. Being in my room, so close to normalcy yet so far away from it, it hurt too much. But I had nowhere else to go. I needed to be here. I buried my head between my knees and waited, hoping that the feeling would pass, feeling a painful longing for the vodka in Vlad's house. For a moment, I contemplated getting some, sneaking into his house and raiding his supply, but dismissed it as too dangerous. Vlad would catch me, he had a fairly accurate tracking device. Then I wondered if he was tracking me right now, and that almost sent me back into a panic. Vlad couldn't find me. Once he got a hold of me, he'd disable my ghost powers and keep me under lock and key for the rest of my life. I had to move now.

With some difficulty, I got up from the bed and tiptoed to the door, fighting down the anxiety that made me just want to run, run, run. Once there, I hesitated. I wasn't sure using my ghost powers in the house wouldn't set off some sort of ghost alarm. Then I shrugged. It couldn't be helped. I couldn't let my parents see me. I turned invisible and intangible and walked straight through the door, down the stairs, into the living room. There, I stopped.

Voices in the kitchen. My father, trying to convince my mother that they would find me, I couldn't have gone far, and hadn't I told them multiple times I wouldn't kill myself? My mother remained silent. I sneaked closer and peered inside. She was just sitting there, holding a coffee mug with the words 'World's Greatest Mom' on it. She wasn't drinking from it, just holding it with both hands and staring down at its contents. She looked forlorn.

I caused that.

I suppressed the sudden impulse to rush forward and hug them both. Instead, I turned and rushed down the stairs.

The basement was sparsely lit, the ceiling lights were out, but several dials, screens and meters were giving off a glow that was enough to see by. The door to the weapons vault was closed, locked probably, but that wouldn't bother me. I just hoped it was there.

Silently, I walked to it and then through it. Once inside, I lit up a small green glowing ecto ball, which lit up the numerous racks, shelves and boxes. Two huge Fenton Bazookas hung on the wall, neatly held by their custom made clamps. And next to them, the thing was looking for: the Fenton Tracker. The device my father had shown me a little over a week ago, which seemed a lifetime ago to me now. Being shot with it would attach a tracking device to a ghost.

I took a deep breath and grabbed it. It was heavy. My father had swung it around easily, but I almost dropped it when I pulled it from the shelf. The barrel was short, fortunately, short enough for what I had in mind. I had contemplated asking Jazz's help for this, but had dismissed it almost immediately. She would refuse. I wanted to leave her no choice but to go along. Her not being at home helped achieving that goal, because I was sure she would have known I was there almost instantly. I don't know how she did it, but she always knew.

I phased back to the lab and placed the gun on one of the tables, moving some of the clutter that was on it aside to make room, making sure I didn't make too much noise. Numerous papers with schematics, partially disassembled household equipment and some old cookies, all piled together as if the man working here didn't see the difference between his work and his food. I smiled wistfully at the thought of my father.

I checked the gun again. It was turned off. I let my fingers slide over it, feeling the steel make of it, the switches, the seams. I heaved it up and held it close to my face, peering through the sight. Then my fingers found the small hatch and I opened it.

It was loaded with a small, spider like device, transparent but for a tiny microprocessor chip embedded in it. It looked extremely advanced, and I immediately dismissed the idea that my father had made it. This was my mother's work, which encouraged me. It might actually work. The spider device would attach itself to a ghost, so it could be tracked. I hoped that also meant it could be tracked inside the ghost zone. In fact, that was a major flaw in my plan. I hadn't checked it would work. No time for it now though.

I looked around, rummaged through some drawers and managed to pull out a crumbled piece of paper and a pen that worked. I put the piece of paper on the table, straightened it a bit with my hand and started to write.

Jazz,

Don't be mad, or be mad, I don't care, but I've gone into the ghost zone to find Sam and Tucker. I think Walker has something to do with it. He's the one who framed me for the attack on Mrs Crown.

If I'm not back tomorrow, do whatever you have to do. I put a tracking device on me, the one from the Fenton Ghost Tracker.

Danny

I read it over once but couldn't find anything wrong with it. I scratched out the 'tomorrow' part and changed it to 'two days', since one day seemed too short for what I had in mind. I needed time to maneuver. She'd be mad. But she would do the right thing, which was tell my parents where to find me if I didn't come back. I was sure of that. For a moment I felt guilty, because she would be worried sick for two days, but then I dismissed it. I was sure I'd be back before that time was up, and I had to find Sam and Tucker. And if I didn't... well, at least this time they'd know what happened to me.

I looked around and studied the ghost equipment. I couldn't make out what exactly they were all doing, but one, I knew. A ghost detector. I walked to it and turned it off. Then I transformed into my ghostly self, grabbed the note, flew through the ceiling, invisible, and deposited the note on Jazz's desk in her room. She was sure to find it there when she got home.

Quickly, I sank back to the lab. I listened for a while to the sounds of the house and the slight murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. Now or never. I grabbed the gun, wrestled with it for moment and then managed to place the barrel against my left shoulder. With some difficulty, I could still reach the trigger. I put my finger on it.

This was a really dumb idea. A stupid, reckless plan. Not much of a plan either. I had contamplated finding Walker and shooting him with it, but had dismissed it as too dangerous. There was no way he wouldn't notice. It wouldn't work. I needed a bait, and I was the perfect candidate for it.

My finder twitched, but still, I held back. Despite the numerous injuries I had sustained fighting ghosts, or people, I wasn't big on pain And this would probably hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

Something slammed into my shoulder and I stumbled backwards. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter and I looked fearfully at the stairs. The murmur of voices had stopped. Had they heard me? My shoulder was strangely numb and I Looked down at it. The spidery device was firmly attached to it. I raised my hand and felt it, tried to brush it off, but it remained firmly attached to my black hazmat suit. I relaxed. This wasn't half bad.

And then the pain started. The device moved, dug its claws in and started wiggling, digging into me, squirming to get under my skin. I opened my mouth to scream but managed to stop myself. Instead, I let myself drop to the floor on my knees and pressed my fists against my forehead. It was like being stabbed again and again. I dared peek at my shoulder for a moment, and I saw green ectoplasm leaking out of the small wound. The device moved inside my shoulder, wedged itself inside so there was no way to get it out. Still, I didn't make a sound, and that's why I heard the footsteps on the stairs.

They had heard something. I had to get out of there quickly. I started hovering, clutching my shoulder, and moved to the red button that would open the doors to the ghost zone. The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Danny?"

I pressed the button and looked up at Jazz, standing at the bottom of the stairs, still holding her bag which contained her books. I didn't say anything. She would just have to read the note. She dropped the bag and started to rush forward.

"Oh, thank God, you're alright," she said, "We were all so worried, the police..."

"I'm going," I said harshly, "Don't try to stop me, Jazz. There's a note on your desk. I'm not going back to prison."

"No!" she cried out and tried to reach me. There was no way she could though. "Danny, wait!" she yelled, "It's not what you think, wait!"

I picked up speed and dove into the portal, letting the green of the ghost zone engulf me. I sped away from the still open portal, increasing my speed until everything around me was just a green blur. I felt the energies around me swirl and glide past me, felt the shifts and changes in the zone as I moved through it, felt its strange pulse resonating in my body.

I belonged.

I closed my eyes. The pain in my shoulder subsided. The tracking device had reached its destination. I slowed down and opened my eyes again. Then I stopped and simply hovered. I was a long distance away from the portal now, there was no way Jazz would find me even if she had immediately jumped in the Specter Speeder to follow me in. Which she wouldn't. She knew she would never catch me anyway.

I inspected my shoulder. Green ectoplasm still stained my suit, but other than that, it didn't hurt too much. Just a slight soreness. Nothing to worry about. I vaguely wondered what would happen if I turned human with that thing in there and decided immediately that I wasn't going to find out. At least, not until it was all over. I didn't care what happened after I found Sam and Tucker.

Letting myself drift on the strange currents of the ghost zone, I tried to get my bearings. I hadn't brought the map, but I had studied it so many times, staring at it until my eyes hurt, that I had practically memorized it. I needed to go into the direction of Clockwork's castle. That would bring me close to Walker's prison, and Walkers goons had tried to attack me there as well. They were watching the area. I was pretty sure I would succeed with the first part of my plan, letting myself get captured. It was what would happen after that that worried me a bit, but not too much. According to the report on the memory stick, I could easily escape his prison by simply turning human.

After passing some purple doors and a strange, mouth like cavern full of teeth, I decided to deviate from the current and move to the right. I passed more doors, more strange forms and shapes, and some islands. I ignored them all. My goal was ahead, and I kept a firm grip on it. I couldn't let myself think of the consequences of my actions, the possibilities, the ways it could go wrong. Most notably the scenario in which Walker had nothing to do with Sam and Tucker's disappearances and was just being his annoying self.

One thing at at time.

I was starting to get a bit impatient when I neared Clockwork's liar and passed the prison in the distance. In fact, I was just about to wonder if I had to go and just knock on Walker's door to get his attention, when I was blasted in the back.

The fight was violent, painful and short. About twenty goons dropped down on me and started hitting me with their nightsticks. I hit them right back, kicking and punching and firing ecto blasts that sent them hurling. I managed to hold them off for exactly thirty seconds. I knew because I had an excellent view on Clockworks' big clock tower which was ticking away the seconds. I wondered if Clockwork was watching and decided that yes, he was. Which probably meant that he meant for this to happen, or at least had foreseen it and hadn't done anything to prevent it. I hated him.

Twenty was too much of course. In the end, it took about five of them to hold me down and one to hold his nightstick against my abdomen, smile wickedly at me and then press some button. After that, everything went blurry, and the fact that I had managed to knock ten of them out only barely registered. They picked me up and dragged me to the ugly white structure that was Walker's prison.

As soon as we got inside, they dropped me. I fell down on my hands and knees, shaking my head in a futile attempt to clear it from the buzz I was hearing. I tried to move, tried to get up because their repeated kicking me and yelling at me seemed to indicate that that was what they wanted me to do, but I just couldn't. For a moment, I considered turning human right then and there and get the hell out of there, but then I would have achieved nothing. I remained as I was.

In the end, two of the guards grabbed my arms, put them over their shoulders and dragged me to what turned out to be an office of some sort, dragging my feet on the ground. Inside, they dropped me in a chair standing in front of an enormous desk. I almost slid down on the floor, but one of them grabbed me and jerked me upright. I managed to stay seated after that.

"Well, punk. It seems my little plan to drive you out of your human world into the ghost zone worked after all."

If I thought before that my ghost form made me insensitive to fear, I was wrong. The deep voice stirred something deep inside of me, and any strength I had left seeped out of me. Dread filled me. This was it. Every nightmare, every despairing moment in which I had wanted to turn to alcohol, any thought of ending it all to be rid of the pain, it all started here.

"Look at me."

I couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to retreat inside myself, wanted to shut out the world. I did not want to face him. I looked up anyway.

Huge white ghost. Black eyes with a glint of green in them that seemed to be dripping with evil. Sneer on his face. Hat.

"W-Walker," I said. I was surprised I still had a voice.

Next thing I knew I was on the floor, toppled backwards over the back of my chair, my jaw burning from the punch he had thrown me. I remained where I was for a moment and stared up at the ceiling, a sight which was quickly replaced by the white prison warden.

"Mr Walker to you, punk," he said, "It's in the rules."

I tried to scramble away from him but was quickly stopped by the two goons that had remained. Walker stepped closer, slowly and deliberately, and kicked me in the stomach. I wanted to curl myself into a ball and hold my stomach, but the two goons grabbed my arms and heaved me up. I hung between them, unable to stand on my feet and feeling nauseous.

"Well?" Walker asked.

I moved my mouth but no sound came out. I was starting to think this had been a very bad idea. I should have thought it through more thoroughly. I had no proof Walker had Sam and Tucker. I only had proof the ghost hated me, but that wasn't anything to be surprised about because practically every ghost hated me. I should get out of there in a hurry and start over...

I reached. I forgot about the ghost tracker in my shoulder, but simply let the two rings turn me human again. Immediately, a fierce pain shot through my shoulder, but I managed to bite it down. I stood up and stepped through the goons that were trying to grab me. I turned to the scary white prison warden to say something, but found that I couldn't. So I just turned around and ran.

Two steps. That was as far as I got. Something slammed into me, something cold and dark and infinitely evil. I had been overshadowed before, by Vlad no less, and that had been extremely unpleasant. This was worse.

I lost control almost immediately. Frozen on the spot, I just stood there, staring at the door. I felt every fiber of my being tense up as the evil spirit tried out my muscles, blinked my eyes, held up my hands in front of them and curled my fingers experimentally. Like with Vlad, I could only watch.

"Well now," I said in a deep voice, "You thought you could just walk out of here, like the last time. Or the time before that. Didn't you."

I could feel his thoughts. Unbidden, they came to me as his mind touched mine. He blinked a few times and smiled and I could feel his amusement.

"You like to watch, punk?" he hissed.

A dusty road. Tumbleweeds, blown by the wind, disappearing behind some wooden houses. The sun, shining mercilessly down. I moved through the town, walking in the middle of the road. I wasn't worried. Nobody challenged me, this was my town. I drew my black hat further down, to protect my eyes from the bright glitter of sunlight reflecting in the windows.

A soft murmur of voices, around the corner. Subdued. I smiled. They'd get the message now. This town needed order. Rules. And I was there to bring it to them. I knew they were staring at me hatefully as I rounded the corner, but I didn't look at them. My trusty deputies were standing on the porch of the police station, holding their guns nervously. They shouldn't worry either. We were the law.

In the middle of the square, the scaffold. Five ropes, hanging down. Three men, two boys, standing there, their hands tied behind their backs.

Nonononono, I thought, trying to push Walker's mind away from me. I didn't want to see it, didn't want to watch. Somehow, he grabbed me though, forced my eyes open, forced me closer.

The nooses were around their necks, their heads were covered by black sacks. The crowd had gone unusually silent. Somewhere on the other side, a woman started wailing, then was suddenly cut off. I nodded at the hangman. He pulled the lever. Five bodies fell down and started twitching and kicking. Two died almost immediately, probably from a broken neck. The others took longer. I watched.

Tears were streaming from my eyes. Somehow, I still had control over that. Or maybe Walker just allowed me to. I felt myself laugh.

"Liked the sight, did you?" he asked.

I wanted to shake my head, wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I should never have turned myself human, made myself vulnerable like that. I shouldn't have reminded Walker of what I was. I felt him push me further away, felt him force me into the dark world of his twisted mind. Everywhere I looked, there was death. Hangings. Shootings, execution style. Then further along, as his obsession grew and his hold on his sanity lessened, torture.

I tried to claw my way out, tried to run, tried to hide, but the images were everywhere. I couldn't stop it. In the end, I just held still and watched, letting it flow over me. And then I was back. Walker was right in front of me.

"You're a ghost," he said.

I didn't think anymore. He was right. I was a ghost. Obediently, I transformed back into my ghost form. I couldn't keep my head up and let it fall forward. The two goons grabbed my arms before I could fall forward.

Walker didn't like that. His hand shot forward and grabbed me painfully by the chin, forcing me to look up into his eyes. He squeezed. I groaned.

"S-stop," I managed to choke out, "I... stop. Please." He squeezed harder. "Please. Sir, Mr Walker. Sir."

He let go and stepped back. The two goons let go of me and I managed to stay on my feet, swaying. Walker smiled.

"Very good," he said, "My little pet half ghost. I see you remember the rules I taught you."

He looked behind me and nodded. I half turned, but before I knew it a nightstick connected to the back of my knees, and suddenly I found myself on my knees in front of Walker. He bend over a little and looked down on me.

"Punk," he said, "Please recite to me rule number sixty eight."

"Always follow the directions of the prison warden or one of his deputies," I said.

"Forty one."

"Always address the prison warden with sir or Mr Walker."

"One hundred and twenty one."

"No real world items in the ghost zone."

He moved closer, until his face was only inches away from mine. "Five."

My stomach churned. I felt sick. "N-no escaping," I said.

Hands grabbed me again, forced me back on my feet, dragged me backwards towards the door. I didn't struggle, didn't fight. I couldn't fight this. This was way beyond my worst nightmares, this was total and utter helplessness. Any control I had had over myself was gone, any last drop of hope I had to find my friends, set them free and go and salvage what was left of my life down the drain. I was nothing. A nobody. A useless wreck in the hands of a cruel prison guard.

"Teach him a lesson," Walker said, "But don't damage him too much. I want him to be able to pick up where he left off later."

The most frightening thing was that I was actually comforted by the 'don't damage him too much' part.