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Chapter Thirty-Four
Burst
It was out of his way. Frostbite was aware of this. But he found himself heading toward the Fenton matriarch regardless, feeling sick at the thought her death. It wasn't Maddie obstructing his battle to be sure, that alone rested with Sam and Tucker, as he'd anticipated. But even that was a poor excuse for darting to the sidelines to rescue her.
Even so, it was relief that filled him as he caught her in his arms and relief that grew as she dug her fingers in his fur and gave a muttered thanks.
He flew her back to the waiting arms of her husband and returned to his soldiers. A laser beam whizzed by his head and he ducked, turning to the source. Sam glared at him from her position on the ground, violet eyes bright and fuming. Tucker dragged her behind a crumbling brick wall before Frostbite could muddle through his thoughts.
He didn't want to deal with them yet.
But he would have to soon.
After the carnage. After the adrenaline faded. When he took a step back and surveyed the wreckage. That was when it struck him. When whatever sane thing inside his head broke free of the tumult and left him with a staggering What have you done?
It lasted a moment. A brief widening of the eyes. A roiling in his gut.
Then one of the Far Frozen snarled and he blasted the beast where he stood, lined up and chained with the others who refused to hail Dan Phantom as their ruler.
His brain throbbed in his skull. He swore his eyes were bulging from their sockets. And he hated them.
And himself.
So he ran.
Jazz tried and failed to silence her breathing. There were too many. One by one the clones rushed in, and feinted back if she didn't catch them in time. He was wearing her down. She knew this. She just didn't know how to stop it.
It wouldn't be long now. Just a few more minutes—
The next Plasmius that appeared caught her by surprise. He went for the belt at her waist before she had time to react, shooting energy into it so it made sparks that seared holes in her shirt.
She hissed, lowering a hand to unlatch it, aiming the thermos with the other, never breaking his gaze.
He smirked, struck her elbow, swung her arm wide and struck again. She heard the snap and screamed.
Frostbite didn't see who did it. He only caught the aftermath—the shattering of ice, Sam's cry of pain, and Tucker's responding yell. His head whirled before he could catch himself and his opponent capitalized on it, barreling into him with flaming fists and forcing him out of the invisible ring.
They had become a problem.
He swallowed the bile in his throat and headed them off. "I'm sorry," he whispered, then lifted a hand and swallowed them in storm.
Dora roared, her position in the air giving her a clear view of Tucker and Sam as they disappeared in white. She knew he wouldn't kill them, hoped he wouldn't. Accidentally, he could—
She wouldn't let herself continue that thought.
Plasmius approached from the left and she whipped her tail, snarling as he disappeared like the rest.
She roared again, garnering Wulf's attention, and swished her tail in the direction of Frostbite's storm.
Wulf was gone in an instant. She hoped it would be enough.
Jack fought to stay by Maddie's side, but the clones were steadily driving them to opposite ends of the roof, as far from the exit as possible. He knew—just knew —Jazz was in trouble. By the way Maddie kept trying to head for the door, she knew it too.
Wulf had abandoned the Plasmius battle to face the icy storm. Dora circled above them, keeping clones at bay with rings of fire.
He'd never known how powerful a single ghost could be. And to have that natural power enhanced with rings and crowns… That thing in Danny's skin was facing off against an entire army of Far Frozen…
Jack hoped beyond all hope that Plasmius was tiring himself out exponentially.
He wanted to check on Jazz. Then he could focus on the rest.
Hand around her throat, Plasmius leaned in close, red eyes gleaming, boring into hers. "My patience is running thin, girl." His fingers tightened as he spoke. "Tell me where he is."
Feebly, she shook her head. "N-never."
He snarled, ecto-energy flaring to life around him. She whimpered through the burn, struggling to loosen his grip with one arm.
"Tell me where Vlad Masters is," he hissed.
"No."
With a click of his tongue, he rolled his eyes and growled. "Then you're no use to me, are you?"
She gasped, vision fading to black as the hand around her tightened. I can't die yet, she thought, struggling vainly beneath him. Not yet. Not yet.
Something shattered.
Plasmius glared over his shoulder.
Squinting through the haze, she saw the figure step into view and stretched out her hand. Please…
The last thing Ten remembered was Dan Phantom's face and ice. When the darkness faded and he woke to not being able to move his body, he saw only ice. But he heard sounds—muffled and distant—but sounds, and clung to that as proof that he was still alive. Well, as alive as an artificial ghost could be…
He realized two things in the course of focusing solely on the sounds.
Someone unknown to him was in danger.
Someone familiar to him was the enemy.
The heat melting the ice around him was steadily spreading outwards, from the inside out somehow, but patience was not in his repertoire. He summoned ecto-energy around him and pulsed it outward, quickening the rate at which the ice melted. He shifted, tensing his arms, and forced his body down, down, down, until the ice gave way with a terrible crack and he threw back his head and breathed deep.
Ah. It felt good to be alive.
He stepped down from the heated dais beneath his feet, felt something tug at his back, and reached behind him, feeling what had to be a syringe sticking out from his spine.
Well, this was going to hurt.
Quickly, he yanked it out and collapsed to his knees, shivering, the cold returning all at once.
He gritted his teeth, hefted himself back up, and shuffled into the main room.
Plasmius was there, hunched over a girl. When she saw him, she reached out, mouthing something.
Ten stumbled backward. "What are you doing?"
"Teaching her a lesson," Plasmius sneered.
"You're…" Ten swallowed thickly. "Let go of her. She'll die."
Plasmius snorted. "That's the point."
Ten felt something coil in his chest. "You're not a killer."
The response he got was a chilling smile and whispered words. "Actually, I am."
He started heaving once his feet touched the floor. Once ectoplasm left his lips, he fell to his knees and burst into tears.
Whathaveyoudone whathaveyoudone whathaveyoudone—
The cacophony in his head swelled. It spilled from his mouth and spread out across the floor.
What have I done?
He heaved.
What have I done?
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling pain with no pulse.
A heart couldn't hurt if it wasn't there.
Why did it hurt?
What have I done?
Why did it hurt so much?
Clockwork waited in the doorway, idly twirling his staff and counting the times Danny Fenton spewed his insides on the nice tiled floor. One. Two. Three.
On the fourth, nothing was expelled. Danny's arms gave way beneath him and he fell beside his own bile—ectoplasmic and human—and stared listlessly at the lime-green mush with bits of bread from a scarfed down sandwich days prior.
He had an inkling what was rattling around the boy's skull. Nothing good. But nothing unnecessary. Poor boy had spent too long being one or the other. It was time he learned the balance of both. And high time he accepted it.
Precisely four minutes of listless staring passed, then Clockwork shifted his arm to let the staff tap the wall and Danny's green, green eyes lifted.
"…You."
The boy's voice was shaky and weak. It made Clockwork chuckle.
"Yes, me. I have a gift for you."
Danny's eyes rolled. He got his arms under him and slowly sat up. "I don't want—any gift of yours," he muttered, wiping his mouth clean.
Clockwork sighed and flicked the scrap of metal he'd gone out of his way to retrieve in the air. Danny stared, eyes steadily widening. The boomerang adjusted course, circling around Clockwork to head straight for him. It skidded across the floor to his feet.
"You'll thank me for this one," Clockwork said. "I saved you precious time. Make use of it." He disappeared before Danny could question him and a portal to earth appeared in his place.
Danny knew the boomerang belonged to his parents. Knew someone had repaired it because he distinctly remember breaking this one. And he knew someone had spent a decent amount of time etching those letters into metal paneling.
DANNY.
AMITY.
SAM.
He groaned, clutching his head against the sudden pain.
Plasmius wasn't here.
Dan wasn't here.
Now, this boomerang was.
No coincidence.
But—
What have you done?
What should he do?
Working for Dan Phantom? Intent on killing Vlad?
Ten wasn't sure whether to believe the girl or not—she did seem familiar—but he knew something was off and didn't want any innocents dying on his watch.
Plasmius didn't take kindly to Ten rescuing the girl from his clutches. He also didn't take kindly to Ten trying to get answers from him.
"I'm the master. You should be obeying me."
Ten kept himself poised for a fight in front of the girl, trying to block out the sounds of her pained moans—one arm was broken and she had nasty burns. "She's no longer a threat—"
"She has information I need!"
"He wants Vlad," she murmured. "He's going to kill Vlad. Don't let him—"
Plasmius growled and started charging.
Ten raised a shield. It shattered on impact, energy exploding outward and rattling the framework. Ten huddled beneath the shockwave. Plasmius loomed above him.
"You're too weak to face me."
Ten huffed a laugh and met that red-eyed gaze with a smirk. "So are you."
Fighting to keep her from the icy storm, fighting to keep safe, Tucker clung to Sam with all the strength he could muster. Sam burrowed her head against his chest, eyes clenched tight, fingers digging into his back.
The wind whipped around them. Shards of ice tore their skin. Tucker bore the brunt of it, cocooning Sam in his arms.
The wind circled faster. Slabs of concrete spun, one slamming into Tucker and sending him flying, unconscious and bloody. Sam clung to a wall still standing. The storm ripped her away and carried her up. She couldn't open her eyes, knew the moment she did, ice would likely blind her. She tried to relax her body, tried to be loose, to minimize the pain, but she collided with something hard, felt bone crack, and tensed all the more.
Then sound ceased.
She fell into softness.
And—nothing.
"ENOUGH!"
Frostbite turned in time to see Wulf before he was tackled to the ground. Wulf towered over him and pointed a finger at the raging storm.
"Enough," he snarled.
Frostbite blinked, flexing his fingers, glancing at the storm that had, indeed, grown far worse than he'd intended. Immediately, it stopped. Wulf hissed, bounding through the falling debris to catch Sam and Tucker before they hit the ground.
Chest heaving, Frostbite watched Wulf settle the two over his shoulders like children and could only swallow thickly when Wulf turned a fierce glare on him.
"Get them out of here," Frostbite rasped in Esperanto.
Wulf hesitated a beat, then nodded and flew back the way he came.
Frostbite lifted himself up and saw Danny staring down at him with a smirk on his face.
"You're all alone," he said in lilting voice. And, indeed, his men were nowhere to be seen.
But that wasn't the question most pressing on his mind.
"You didn't save them."
Danny cocked an eyebrow.
Shivering, Frostbite fisted his hands. "You didn't save Sam."
Danny's smirking expression didn't falter.
Frostbite growled. "You're not Danny."
The boy laughed. "Took you long enough."
Ten braced his arms against the incoming blast and dug in his heels as he skidded backward. Fissures zigzagged across his shield, but the girl was behind him by the staircase—had ran there once the battle began—and he had a feeling Vlad—if it was really Vlad—was hidden that way. Unfortunately, Plasmius had the same idea, and was concentrating on making that half of the building collapse.
Feet planted, jaw clenched, Ten rocketed his shield outward, shockwaves pulsing around him. Plasmius darted upward, hovering in the air. His body started trembling and Ten realized too late that he was making a clone.
The clone flew one way, Plasmius the other. Ten muttered a curse, summoning a veritable wall of icy daggers. The clone aimed low. Plasmius aimed high. Ten's flimsy shield shattered on impact, the clone ramming his gut with crackling fists. Ice daggers flew in a frenzy, slicing Ten even as they struck his enemies. The girl let out a cry and he caught the instant Plasmius slammed her head against the wall, then sent out a flare of energy that rocked the building and broke the staircase apart. Plasmius flew backward, watching the girl get buried beneath falling debris.
Somewhere deep, somewhere painful, a yell bubbled inside and burned Ten's throat as it burst. He grabbed the clone's head, twisted his arms, and—crack.
Plasmius threw up a hasty shield at the daggers of ice headed his way and started trembling again to make another clone.
Ten reared back an arm, fingers licked by ethereal flame, and punched clean through the defenses. Plasmius slammed into a broken railing, shoulder punctured, and let out a cry, wincing through the pain.
Ten grabbed his shoulders and shoved. Plasmius screamed, the rail pushing further inside. Ten growled, eyes narrow with rage. A gust of icy wind lashed Plasmius's skin and whipped around his head. The crown flew. Ten caught it midair, placed it on his own head as Plasmius sagged in his grip, and shoved once more.
"Help."
The girl's cry was faint.
Ten socked Plasmius in the nose before he left him hanging there listlessly. Hurriedly, he went to lift the girl out of the wreckage.
Once she was safely in his arms, he began his interrogation. "What the hell is going on? Is Vlad really separate from Plasmius? Is Dan here? Where's the brat? Both brats. And who are you?"
She cringed, holding one shoulder, and Ten adjusted his grip, remembering her broken arm. "Sorry."
"No." Her voice broke. She coughed and tried again, though it still came out scratchy. "Thank you. I'm—Jazz. Danny's sister."
"Ah. That's why you look familiar."
She gestured to the collapsed staircase with a nod of her head. The little alcove with the coffin had been mostly untouched. "Vlad is in the double coffin. It was the best defense we could think of."
"The what?"
"Double coffin. It's made of ghost and human material so—"
"Danny has to save him." Ten shook his head once, upper lip curling as he snarled. "What the hell is he thinking?" He glared down at her. "What the hell are you thinking? Once they know he's in there, they'll burn it. Throw it in the ocean. Any number of things! That's not defense, that's a death sentence. A coward's way out!"
Jazz scowled. "How does that make him a coward? He put his trust in us, in Danny, to set this mess right. If he'd been fighting, he'd be dead already. All those clones would have been on him and him alone."
"That would be an honorable way to die."
"He's the brains of this operation," she snapped. "We've been getting the majority of our information from him. We need him alive. The rest of us are the expendable ones."
"And if you're all dead, who will tell Danny he's in the coffin?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Do I look dead to you?"
"Well, I don't see Danny around, now do I?"
"Clockwork can open it too, I assume. It is his coffin."
Ten barked a laugh. "Right. Like that manipulative crackpot will help you."
"He's helped so far."
"Sure." He set her down by the coffin, careful not to agitate her wounds. She'd taken some hits from his ice and looked a bloody mess, but it was the arm worrying him more. "Can Vlad hear us?" he asked, resting a hand on the coffin's surface.
Two successive knocks came from the inside.
Jazz grinned. "Guess so. He has an oxygen tank, so don't look so worried."
"How could I not?" Ten muttered.
"Jazz!"
Her eyes grew wide. "Dad?"
Footsteps sounded above them.
Jazz tried to stand, but instead fell into Ten's steadying arms. "Dad! The stairs are—"
"Whoa!"
Thud.
"Broken…"
Ten sighed. He settled Jazz back against the coffin and hovered over the staircase ruins to lend Jack Fenton a hand.
Blue eyes lighted on him and crinkled with mirth. "Popsicle man!" Jack exclaimed as Ten hefted him past the rubble. His gaze shifted to the right "Plasmius pinata?" Then further still, and his eyes lit up even more. "Jazz!" He let go of Ten's hand and ran to crush her in his embrace.
"Dad—my arm—"
"Sorry." Jack pulled away and held her face in his hands. "You okay? Do I need to maim somebody?"
"I'm fine—"
"Her arm is broken," Ten said. "And she needs rest." He heard more footsteps from above and looked up in time to see Maddie skid to a stop at the edge of the stairs.
She saw him and smiled. "Hi." Then she jumped.
"Hey!" he shouted, launching forward to catch her before she hit the rubble.
She gasped, surprised by the rescue, then patted him once on the chest, "Thanks," and whirled to locate her family. "Jazz!" She hurried to the girl's side and the circle of Jack's arms.
Ten groaned.
Fentons…
Ignoring their tear-filled reunion, he focused on the grouping of monitors in the room. Most had been broken, but one remained functional and the face he saw there was the one he'd been hoping to see.
"Ten?"
He looked over his shoulder. Jazz was staring at him quizzically.
"Something wrong?"
"No." His eyes drifted to the monitor again. "I just remembered." He smirked. "I have business to take care of."
"Where are my soldiers?" Frostbite growled, jaw tight with anger.
Hovering in the air, the boy ghost put his arms behind his head and crossed his legs. "I'm not exactly sure. I didn't think beyond Ghost Zone when making portals so they could be anywhere."
Frostbite sucked in a harsh breath, arms trembling. He hadn't realized…
A smile lit the boy's face. "Are you angry?"
"Furious."
Dan laughed.
Frostbite glared daggers. "Take off that guise, wretch."
"But it's so fun toying with you. Besides." He pointed at something in front of him. When Frostbite didn't turn to look, he groaned and rolled his eyes. "Look, you idiot. Dora is there. Doing nothing. If Danny were here, she'd be defending him. But look. Nothing." He smirked. "They've known from the start. You were the only fool here." He re-crossed his arms and settled back, staring Frostbite down from above. "Pity you didn't kill those two in the storm. I was hoping to not have to sully my hands."
"…What?"
The boy arched a brow. "Do I need to repeat myself?"
Frostbite launched his body forward, icy fist poised for attack.
Dan took the blow, his head whipping back on impact. Then he laughed. Louder and louder, until he was doubled over from the force of it. He lifted red eyes to Frostbite and the slim body he possessed vanished in place of his own. "Satisfied?" he hissed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Frostbite grabbed him by the collar. "Not even close."
Dora watched the battle unfold. With the Plasmius clones gone, Wulf attending to Sam and Tucker, and the Fentons inside, she'd taken up position on the Fenton Works roof and kept an eye out for the next attack.
Dan hadn't made a clone—that she'd seen—and she wondered what to make of that, whether it was good or bad news. Either way, he'd preoccupied himself with dodging Frostbite's advances, though he hardly made any of his own. Wearing the beast down, even she could see that. She suspected Frostbite knew as well and was driven by instinctive rage as opposed to any modicum of self-preservation.
She didn't like watching it. But he'd hurt Sam and Tucker and she couldn't forgive that either. So she let it continue and waited for whatever was to come.
When it did, she realized she hadn't been ready at all.
The wail was sudden and powerful, a deafening gust that blew Frostbite backward and made his skull throb. Squinting through residual waves of sound, Frostbite saw Dan approach the shield's boundary. Something dark moved toward him, a group of bodies flying in unison. And a second Dan. Suddenly, the shield was opening up and the crowd surged in with whooping cries and cackles. Prison warden Walker led the pack at the Dan clone's side, and the group behind him fanned out with madness in their eyes.
Dora whipped past him, breathing fire.
Wulf appeared moments later, claws out and fairly frothing at the mouth.
The two Dans met Frostbite's gaze, wearing matching smirks.
He shivered.
He would not live past this day.
Braced, he threw up a shield to meet their approach, but one swerved past and the other was tackled midair by a body he didn't know. He spun, watching the Dan who'd passed and saw him enter the Fenton Works building.
Dora and Wulf were surrounded. Outnumbered.
It was not his fight.
The stranger and Dan crashed into a building. Fire and ice immediately spouted from the windows.
That could be the clone. He couldn't be sure.
His chest grew heavy.
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do at all.
Maddie was pained to see Wulf bring in an unconscious Tucker and Sam. She left Jack to tending Jazz's wounds and replaced Wulf at the pair's side so he could return to the battlefield. She was picking shards of ice from Tucker's arm when the newcomer arrived. She'd hardly had the time to gasp before the floor around them was set ablaze.
"Good day, family," Dan said, hovering above them, cast in shades of green from the fire steadily encroaching. "And goodbye."
"You monster!" Jack shouted, fist raised.
Dan chuckled, opened his mouth to speak and—
The fire turned to ice.
His eyes widened.
Maddie gasped.
Dan turned slowly, lip curling in a sneer. "Ever the hero, aren't you?" he growled and lifted his gaze to piercing emerald eyes.
"Danny."
He hadn't known what to expect when stepping through the portal. His family nearly being burnt alive hadn't crossed his mind and it pissed. Him. Off.
Dan's gaze shifted to something over his shoulder.
"Oh, good," Dan said. "Your enemy has arrived."
Danny turned his head to see Frostbite, battered and battle-worn and eyes out for blood.
Frostbite watched him levelly for a moment before facing Dan. "You're my enemy too," he hissed and sprang into offense. They exited the building, locked in combat, and Danny stared blankly after them, wondering why he'd been left undeterred.
He glanced over Plasmius hanging from a broken rail and looked down at the wide-eyed, slack-jawed faces watching him with cautious hope. He lifted a hand to melt a way out of the ring of ice. When it cleared, he saw Sam—bloody, limp, pale—and his lungs shriveled.
He reached for her, cradled her body in his arms, and vanished.
The ones left behind had no time to react. Once Danny was gone, other ghosts appeared on a frenzy of destruction. Maddie and Jack leapt to action, protecting Tucker and Jazz.
Plasmius stirred.
But they were too busy to notice.
It was cold.
Painfully cold.
And dark. A black nothingness.
From the black nothingness, voices came. Muffled. Watery. And familiar.
From the cold came heat. Scalding heat.
Sam groaned, light flickering behind closed eyes. Then it cooled and froze and all was cold again.
This new cold enveloped her torso and held tight as winds gusted around her. She reached for the cold, ignoring the way her skin stung with the contact.
Then it too was gone.
In its place was softness, different from the softness before the blackness came. This was static comfort. Flat. Not embracing and moving with her.
She heard breathing—heavy breathing—and something soft and faint and so, so pained.
The sound of her name.
The sound of her name being whispered, forced, from a voice that would rather have been silent.
She opened her eyes.
And there he was.
Crouched, hands and knees on the floor, fingers curling, then uncurling over a plush carpet she didn't recognize, in a room with one wall blown clear off but otherwise intact.
There he was.
White hair, mussed and bloody, curtaining his eyes from view. Breathing strained and shaky, with a tremor in his shoulders, a subtle shaking back and forth.
And she knew.
Her throat tightened, closing up. Her lips parted, then trembled. She inhaled a lengthy, staggering breath. Felt pain behind her eyes and squeezed them shut. Lowered her chin to her shoulder and curled her fingers into the carpet.
She couldn't. She wouldn't.
His eyes lifted. She felt them graze her legs, her waist, linger on her collarbone, her lips. She opened hers just as his gaze reached them. Felt her heart stutter. Felt his name on her tongue. Pressed a hand over her heart, felt her face crumple, and—
His brows scrunched together. He lifted a hand, hesitated, then mustered his courage and rested it over her ankle. "…Don't cry…"
She bit her lip.
Overwhelmed by her silence, by her pain, his own eyes misted with tears. "Sam."
The sound of her name brought back the reality of the situation. "We have to go back," she said. Her voice came out far stronger and steadier than she felt.
But he recoiled, a whiplash movement, and she gasped—the momentary strength gone, the wounded look in her eyes unable to be masked.
"Why should I?" he snarled, eyes narrow. "Why should I go back to people who'll attack and use me?" He snatched up her hands, leaned over her splayed legs, and looked up into her face with eyes wide and bright, mouth twitching in and out of a gentle smile. "Let's get away from here. Together. We'll never see any of them again, I promise."
"Danny…"
"Come with me, Sam."
"They need you."
"I don't care. I need you."
Sam heaved a sigh. Danny's grip tightened at the sound, so she forced a smile to her face and tugged her hands free. He watched carefully as she brought them to the sides of his face and held him still. Blood from cuts on her hands smearing across his cheeks, stark red against the whiteness. Like the images she saw of Frostbite's home.
"This isn't you," she whispered fiercely. "You protect the people you care about. They're counting on you. You have to go back."
His eyes flickered. Gently, he pulled her hands away, staring at the floor, away from her. She tried to catch his gaze but, when she did, she wished she hadn't. His eyes burned red as the blood on his cheeks.
"You want to get rid of me," he hissed.
"No—"
"You want me gone," he continued. "You want to leave my side. After all I've done! It still doesn't matter!"
"Danny!"
"Forever a ghost. Forever an enemy. I thought you were different." He grabbed her shoulders. She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips. His own twisted in a sneer. "Always afraid. Always pretending. How could you?" he shouted. "How could you say that to him? How could you do that to me?"
"Danny—"
"You don't love me? You don't trust me? After all your talk of forgiveness, you still fear me. What have I ever done except help you? What have I ever done except save you? What have I ever done except l—" He cut off, eyes widening, abruptly shifting back to green. He released her, fisted quivering hands in his lap, and stared at the floor, away from her again, the look on his face one of horror.
So she waited.
Waited as he trembled. Waited as he pounded his head with his fists—What have I done? Waited as the first tear fell, wrenched a sob from his throat—What have I done?—and white hair suddenly blackened.
And it was clear. So starkly clear, it made his throat ache. What have I done? What have I done?
And she waited.
Waited as he screamed. As he shrieked. As he roared and slammed his fists onto the floor.
She waited as he turned his head back towards her. As blue, blue eyes spilled water on her hands. As he worked his mouth to say something, anything. Any of the words bouncing back and forth in his skull and causing him such agony.
She waited as he touched her forearms, the barest hint of a caress. Waited as he stared, at her, through her, into her.
As he snaked his arms around her body and suddenly, violently, pulled her close.
He buried his head in the crook of her neck. Shook in her arms. Inhaled a ragged breath.
And cried and cried and cried.
What have I done?
What have I done?
And she waited.
She rubbed circles across his spine. Caressed his hair. Rocked side to side, side to side.
Tears dropped into his hair. Her own tears, unbidden, but she wouldn't let go of him to wipe them away. If she let go, he would disappear. Disappear to some unknown place she couldn't reach, some place where he would lock his heart and let it never be seen.
So she waited.
Eventually, the sobs grew quiet. The shaking stilled. Eventually, he lifted his head, blinking red-rimmed eyes that were still blue as blue as blue.
He caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned her head into his palm.
He drew in a trembling breath. His other hand cupped her face. He rubbed the corners of her eyes, smearing the tears gathered there.
She looked at him, through him, into him.
And he felt whole.
He felt real.
And he knew.
"I love you."
Her heart throbbed.
He pressed in closer and she followed him unwittingly.
"I love you," he whispered again.
Her lungs felt close to bursting.
And he waited. Breathing short, heaving breaths. Fingers quivering even as they held her. Lips parted and warm. So warm she felt them radiating with it.
Unsteady even on firm ground, she clutched his arms. Half-lidded eyes stared back at her.
"I love you," he murmured, the words brushing her lips, pressing in closer. Closer.
And something snapped. An audible burst. And she fell into him, onto him, and breathed his air like she was suffocating.
He caught her. With his arms. With his lips. With his heart.
And he was warm. Warm as warm as warm.
She clung to him.
He lifted her to her knees, pressed a hand to her back, the other to her head, and there was warmth and heat and something raw and desperate but so, so sweet.
"I love you," he gasped.
Then kissed her.
"I love you," he rasped.
Then kissed her.
"I love you," he swore.
And she breathed him in as he touched her lips once more.
His touch was gentle, trailing fire across her skin, tingling her nerves, making her gasp, making her ache.
"Sam." His voice was ragged. Raw. Real. "I love you. So much. So much that it hurts."
Tears sprang from her eyes. He wiped them with his thumbs, but they kept pouring. He kissed each one, kissed their salty tracks away, and waited.
Waited as she breathed in and out, in and out, to compose herself. He kissed stray tears as he waited. She let out a feeble laugh and tried to wipe her blood from his lips. He kissed her finger, watched as she flushed, and waited—breathing in and out, in and out—for her to speak.
"…We have to go back."
Surprise colored his face for only a moment, a slight furrow of his brow, a small frown turning his lips. Then he smiled. A sad, reluctant smile that made her frown guiltily. "I know," he said and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His gaze searched hers. "I love you, Sam."
She pursed her lips. "I know."
He took her left hand in both of his and pressed a kiss to her ring finger.
Her breath hitched. She bit her lip, averting her eyes from his. Her chest was a chaos of aches and tightness and fluttering heartbeats even before he spoke the words.
"Will you fall in love with me?"
She thought her heart would burst. "I…think so," she muttered, grudgingly. She cast a quick glance at him, feeling the quickening beat of his pulse against her skin.
And he was grinning wide. He flew into her arms, successfully swept her off her feet, and kissed her soundly. She looked positively frazzled—hair askew, cheeks pink, eyes wide—and he looked positively impish with the realization.
Then he took her hand, laced their fingers together, and urged her forward. "Let's go. Tell me what's happened. Tell me what the plan is."
Terror struck her, a new pressure in her chest. She snatched him back from the ledge and knew the look on her face frightened him by the way his eyes flitted across it. "Frostbite. Frostbite's going to attack you."
The look in his eyes faded and he heaved a sigh. "I know." He looked out, facing the ghost shield that hummed before them. "It's no less than I deserve," he murmured.
She squeezed his hand.
"I take it you know what I've done?"
"What you do now is what matters."
Another sad smile crossed his face. "Will you wait for me?"
Her heart ached. She couldn't imagine how he bore it, this agony. She didn't want this pain. So she faked a playful expression. "Maybe."
Rapidly, he blinked, both wounded and confused.
She let out a breathy laugh. "If I have nothing better to do," she added.
He pouted. Then grinned. Then laughed along with her.
She pretended not to notice when his laughter turned to tears. Pretended to look elsewhere when he wiped his face.
Her heart kept stuttering.
She nudged his side with her elbow. "Let's go."
"Right."
Sam in tow, her eyes growing wide, he jumped from the ledge. Still black-haired. Still blue-eyed. And still a slave to gravity.
"Ghost! Go ghost!" she shrieked, plummeting down in his arms.
Laughter echoed in the air around her. He yanked her close and crushed his lips to hers, swallowing her screams.
Their fall slowed. His warmth faded. And suddenly, they were vaulting upwards, her clutching his shoulders, him hugging her close and smiling against her ear.
Desperately, she tried to ignore his tremors.
Desperately, he tried to ignore the voice screaming in his head.
You won't see past this day…
So he held her close, felt her heart beat in his hollow chest, and desperately pretended they had forever to look forward to.
They didn't hear him.
Didn't see him.
Didn't think he knew what they were so desperate to hide.
As the Fentons waged battle with Walker's groups of prisoners promised freedom, Plasmius threw his weight forward and off the rail, pressed a hand to the hole in his chest, and whirled around, teeth bared, to face the coffin where Vlad lay.
Beneath their very noses, before they even caught whiff of his intention, he set the thing ablaze and watched it burn.