Chapter Fifteen: Plans and Reactions

Danny felt a little strange. Not unlike a kid who'd taken candy from the jar when they weren't supposed to—only the candy was Technus and the jar was the warehouse… So maybe his metaphor wasn't as accurate as he'd thought. But he hadn't been able to help that odd, guilty feeling when he'd seen his parents after they'd gotten home. Like he'd done something wrong in hiding the hurt ghost from them, though he knew it was the right thing to do.

Technus had been so worn out Danny had decided to stop asking questions—his aura had been flickering again, a bad sign, though his core was still vibrating steadily. They knew enough for now, anyway. In fact, Danny felt like he'd already learned too much. His head throbbed with the knowledge that in four weeks—just twenty-eight days—an all-powerful ghost would land on his doorstep, ready to take control of the world.

Sam and Tucker had gone home, their faces drawn but determined. Sam had still seemed angry on his behalf, but Danny couldn't muster anything except numbness when he thought about what he'd gone through because of Technus. Valerie shooting him, the agents hounding him, the feeling of being watched. He shuddered, knowing the damn van was still outside his window. He saw Agent R's stony face in his mind's eye. But Technus had seemed so pathetic. Like a poor, abused cat. Sure, maybe he had scratched Danny, but he couldn't exactly be angry with him, could he? Not when he was injured.

And now, he was in stasis underneath Danny's bed. Unfortunately, going back into the thermos hadn't been an option. In the thermos, everything was at a standstill; while Technus wouldn't have gotten worse, he also wouldn't have gotten better. So Danny had made a nest of pillows for him and draped long, dark blankets over the side of his bed so his aura wouldn't show through. It wasn't a permanent solution, by any means—and Danny didn't exactly feel safe with one of his enemies in stasis directly below him—but it was the best he'd been able to come up with.

Jazz had asked him repeatedly if he was sure it was the best idea, and Danny, already stretched past his breaking point, snapped at her that if she had something better, she was welcome to say it. Jazz had simply stared at him with an odd, sad expression before patting his shoulder and leaving the room. She'd come back with more blankets, and had told him to sleep well.

But Danny couldn't sleep, not with everything going on—and not with a ghost under his bed. He needed to do something—something that would prepare for the battle he knew was coming. He stood up, the blankets rustling, and opened his door quietly. His clock read 2:07 AM, but he went downstairs regardless, skipping the creaky steps to avoid waking his family. He was surprised to see a light on in the kitchen. For a second, cold fear sprang into his chest, but he realized no one who would've wanted to hurt him or his family would've turned on a light.

Padding softly into the kitchen, he saw his mother sitting there, nursing a cup of tea. The steam rose from the mug, wispy and pale. His mom seemed haggard and worn; bags hung heavy from her eyes, and her hair was mussed from sleeping. She was dressed in her pajamas, not her jumpsuit, and it had been so long since he'd seen her out of it, she almost looked like a stranger.

"Hey, Mom," he called, voice near quiet. The stranger jumped and turned to look at him. As she saw him, she seemed to morph into his mother again, complete with her look of delicate concern. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Sweetie. It's two in the morning. You need to go back to sleep; you have school tomorrow," his mom said. Ignoring her, Danny slipped into the seat next to her at the kitchen table. "Danny…"

"I couldn't sleep," he said, leaning down to smell the tea. Vanilla and spice met his nose. He knew it would be bitter, though; his mom didn't put any sweetener in her tea. "And it looks like you couldn't either." She sighed, taking a sip from her mug. He itched to go down to the lab and scout out things that might help them fight the Empress. He wanted to fly into the Zone to see things for himself, but he knew the risk was too high; if he were caught, the Empress would capture and probably kill him—and then where would Amity Park be?

Besides, two o'clock in the morning, with his parents home, was not the time to be messing around in the lab or anything. And his mom was awake. Everything he wanted to do to prepare, right then and there, was impossible. He had to be patient, but it just felt like he was wasting time.

A month…

"Bad dreams?" his mom asked, and he was startled from his thoughts. He shook his head.

"No. I just—with everything going on…" He didn't know what to say—what he could say. He didn't know if or how he was going to tell everyone a powerful ghost bent on world-domination was going to be there in a month. It would probably mean more coming from Phantom, anyway. But he couldn't help the urge to tell her, to warn her that something bad was on its way. She was his mom, after all. He wanted to protect her. Or help her protect herself.

"I get it," she said. Danny wanted to laugh. As cliché and juvenile as it sounds, you definitely don't. "The government's messing around at your school—one of your peers is maybe a criminal. And we probably don't help…" She drank from her mug again. "We're just trying to do what's best for you and everyone in Amity Park. I hope you know that, Sweetie."

But what you think is best isn't always best, Danny thought bitterly. I'm not a criminal. Why can't everyone just trust all the good I've done? It's been two years, and you're still shooting at me… He walked into the kitchen and pulled down the hot chocolate powder from the cupboard. He liked things a little sweeter than his mom did.

They didn't shoot at you last night, a part of him argued.

They would've if I'd been a full ghost, the other part shot back.

"I do know that," he finally said. He turned their electric kettle on and waited for the hot water to boil. "Did dad's snoring finally get to you, nineteen years later?" he asked. "Is that why you're up?"

She smiled wryly at him. "Actually, it's everything that's been going on." The words echoed his own. "I don't think we told you, but we confronted Phantom last night. He agreed to be questioned. I was surprised he stayed long enough to let us talk to him." Danny remembered the eerie warehouse, his instincts battling within him—stay or go? I almost didn't stay long enough, he wanted to say. But he didn't. He never did. Even in the beginning, when he'd tried to tell them… They'd started talking about ghosts, and how evil they were, and eventually he'd stopped trying.

"That's great news," he said, attempting to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. He poured the boiling water over the coco powder in his cup and stirred. When he took a sip, he felt the heat clash with his internal chill. His core vibrated harder to cool the liquid down before it hit his stomach, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

"Are you cold, Danny?" his mom asked suddenly. "You're shaking." I'm not. It's my ghost core. He wanted to say it so, so badly. He wanted it worse than he wanted anything at that moment—more than he wanted to be ready for the Empress when she came, more than he wanted the GIW off his back. The need to share himself—his whole self—with his mom was suddenly overwhelming.

He swallowed it down with the hot chocolate. He liked things sweet, and he knew it would all turn to ashes if she knew—bitter, bitter ashes. Criminal, he thought. She thinks you're a criminal. Or maybe she'd feel guilty for all that she'd done, and that would be just as bad. How could someone forgive themselves for hurting their child? Never mind that he'd already forgiven her.

Forgiven, but not forgotten, a voice whispered in his mind.

"I'm fine," he said, draining his mug. "I think I'll go back to bed, now. I have a test. Good night." The words were mechanical, and he placed his mug in the sink as if in a daze. He almost didn't hear her say good night back.

He wanted so desperately to tell her. But he never did.

Before Danny went downstairs, he lifted the corner of a blanket that was hanging from his bed. He was relieved to find Technus, still in stasis, on the floor. His coloring was a stronger, more vibrant green, and his aura was strong enough Danny worried his parents might see through the blankets if they came into his room. The half-ghost briefly touched Technus's body, and his core's vibration was strong. Danny closed the blanket and hoped Technus had enough sense to stay there until Danny came back from school. He piled dirty clothes next to his bed, trying to hide the ghost's aura, and then spread the clothes around his room so it looked less intentional.

There, he thought, and left his room, closing the door behind him.

He wasn't sure if his mom had ever gone back to sleep after he'd seen her up, because she had dark purple crescents under her eyes and practically a mountain of waffles beside her. Instead of tea, she had a cup of black coffee in her hand, unsweetened.

"Good morning," Danny said, snagging a waffle.

"Good morning," his mom replied. "Did you manage to sleep?" He nodded, buttering his waffle. It wasn't even much of a lie. He'd slept a couple of restless hours, his dreams filled with grasping hands trying to pull him down into darkness. He took a bite of the waffle.

"This is good," he complimented. He heard his dad come stomping down the steps.

"Are those waffles I smell?" he called loudly, stepping into the kitchen. Without waiting for any response, he began stacking at least five waffles onto a plate. "Thanks, Honey," he said, pausing briefly to lean over and kiss his wife on the cheek. Danny pretended to gag.

"Do you need a ride, Dann-o?" his dad asked, pouring syrup onto his waffles. "I can take you to school today. Or let you drive there. You gotta use that license or your skills will go rusty!" Just the thought made Danny recoil. Dash might use his dad's bad driving as an excuse to pick on him, and Danny didn't feel like panicking about a potential car accident so early in the morning.

"I'm fine, thanks. I think Sam's picking me up soon." He frowned, looking around. "Hey, has anyone seen my backpack?" Where had he left it? He remembered walking home with it, so he hadn't left it at school…

A knock came at the door, and he blanched, a terrible, fluttery feeling clawing its way up his throat. Like he'd swallowed a murder of crows. It's not a big deal, he thought. I'll just pick it up on the way to school. No one's seen it—and if they have, what are they even going to do about it?

Danny thought he might throw up.

"Would you get that, Danny? It's probably Sam," his mom said. Probably. Maybe. He felt sweat on his forehead as he reached for the knob. Opened the door—and standing there, so calmly and collectedly—calculating—was Agent R. Danny swallowed, trying to keep the crows from coming up out of his mouth. He remembered the agent's anger. How he'd threatened to torture Danny, not even certain that he was Phantom.

And he still doesn't know. He can prove nothing.

"Hello, Mr. Fenton. How are you? I think I've found something of yours." Agent R grinned, but it was like a skull's grin—empty. He held up a bag. Danny's bag. Danny could only stare, mouth dry. He couldn't make the words come. Images flashed in his mind, images of being strapped to a table, screaming as a scalpel dug into his soft skin—

"Oh, hello!" His mom came up behind him, smiling cordially. She wiped her floury hands on her apron. "What brings you here so early? I thought we were planning to meet at the school around ten to continue putting up the shield." Enemy, enemy, the ghost part of him chanted. Surrounded on all sides—could his mom be counted on as an ally? Against the GIW?

Of course she can; stop being ridiculous, he told himself.

"That is the current plan, Mrs. Fenton," Agent R replied. "Our agents found this yesterday evening, and we thought it best to return it. It is Danny's, isn't it?" His mom's eyes found his backpack, and they lit up in confusion.

"Yes, that's Danny's. Where did you find it?" She was glancing between her son and Agent R, seemingly realizing the tension between the two.

"That's the strangest part," Agent R said. He tapped the bag with one finger. Danny resisted the urge to snatch it away from him. "You see, we spotted Phantom yesterday—and then we tailed him. When we came back to search the area that he appeared from—to gather any evidence—we found this up a tree nearby. It was rather peculiar."

His mom's eyebrows furrowed. "It's odd, but odd things happen here all the time. Do you know how it got there?" she asked, turning to her son. Danny, prompted to speak, couldn't find any words. The crows had pecked out his voice box, leaving him only his body. He shook his head wordlessly. What had been in the bag, anyway? He couldn't seem to remember.

"Odd, perhaps, but is it a coincidence? Do you know where your son was yesterday after school?" Your agents saw me walking home. Why can't you just trust that? Danny thought desperately. Agent R smirked, as if realizing how frustrating this was for Danny.

"What, exactly, are you suggesting?" his mom demanded, and Danny realized he couldn't let them trade notes. Individually, they didn't have enough—but together? Are you on my side or his, Mom? he wondered again.

"Didn't you need to work on that connector, Mom?" This was the question he asked. "You said it would take a couple of hours, and it'll be ten soon. Getting that shield up by Friday is really important." His mom frowned, the corners of her lips pulled down by her bafflement and suspicion. He could see the same emotions reflected in the slight squinting of her eyes, the way her nose scrunched. It was a look he'd received too many times to count.

"I suppose we should start working on it…" she muttered. Facing Agent R, she said, "Please, don't make baseless accusations against my son when all you have is some odd circumstantial evidence." Agent R was staring at Danny. He'd been reminded; if the GIW wanted to continue to use Fenton brain and tech, they'd have to lay off.

"That's not what I meant at all, Mrs. Fenton," the agent assured. "It wasn't my intent to accuse anyone of anything." He handed the backpack to Danny, who took it with a barely whispered "thanks." "Maybe just keep better track of your things from now on, right Danny?" The half-ghost nodded.

"See you later," the agent said. It was bizarrely casual coming from him, with his gray, gray eyes, like the color of decaying flesh. Bizarrely casual, and an ominous promise—see you later. Danny shut the door as he walked away.

"How did your backpack get up that tree?" his mom questioned. With the immediate danger gone, Danny found that his voice was back. How odd it was that sometimes he could make banter and sometimes he froze—he supposed it was all in how helpless he felt. Phantom could fight back without fear. Fenton couldn't—not if he didn't want to be locked up and experimented on. His secret was his safety.

"I don't know," Danny said. "I guess I must've set it down somewhere and some ghost stole it." He shrugged. "I'm glad that agent guy brought it back, though. That was nice." His mom nodded, expression distant.

"Nice, yes… I suppose." She patted Danny's back. "Well, don't lose it again." Danny slung the backpack over his shoulder and did his best to smile at her.

"I won't. I do need to go put some things in it, though," he said, heading back up the stairs. He wouldn't be able use the bag, now—who knew what the GIW had done to it? He was so stupid, forgetting his bag in a tree. A beginner, freshman-Danny mistake. He was supposed to be better, now. Smarter.

Even with the Empress and Technus on his mind, leaving his backpack behind when he knew the GIW were watching him had been so dumb of him. He resisted the urge to slam his door when he entered his room. Instead he tossed the bag on the ground and ran a hand through his hair. Had there been anything incriminating inside it? He'd taken his thermos with him, the medical supplies were with Sam, and his Ghost Zone maps were stuck inside his bedroom wall. He'd had ghost weapons and equipment in his bag, however. It may not have been incriminating—he was the son of two ghost-hunters, after all—but allowing the GIW access to his parents' tech without them there to supervise was not a good thing.

He looked inside, rifling through his papers, books, lipstick lasers, and wrist-rays. Nothing seemed to be missing, though it was clear to Danny that the GIW had looked inside it. They hadn't put everything back where it had been.

He needed a new bag. If they had a recording device or tracker on this one, it might spell doom for Danny. He rubbed it mournfully. "You served me well," he told it, before dumping all of its contents onto his floor. He'd have to do this quickly if he wanted to make it to school on time (and with the limited ghost attacks, them being preoccupied by the Empress in the Zone, it was a possibility). He separated out all of his ghost equipment, afraid that it, too, might've been bugged.

Then, he scoured his closet for anything that might substitute his bag. He pulled out an old backpack, but it was stained with what looked like a mixture of blood and ectoplasm—in other words, unsuitable. His others were torn or smelled like moldy food. Jazz might have a leftover bag—her things seemed to last longer than his did.

The problem almost seemed surreal. He'd learned last night that a ghost probably as powerful as Pariah—if not more so—was coming to take over the world. It was supervillain-ish, but ghosts were nothing if not dramatic and supervillain-ish—even cartoony. The damage they caused, however, and the people they hurt were very real. Searching for a backpack seemed silly in comparison—like worrying about a paper cut when you were terminally ill. It just wasn't worth it.

But if he were caught now… Could his friends and family stand together against her? He bridged the gap between ghost and human—could the two species work together if he wasn't there? Perhaps it was arrogant of him to presume they couldn't. Perhaps it was arrogant to assume the world needed him at all. But right now, no human even knew what was happening sans him, Sam, Jazz, and Tucker.

He knocked on Jazz's door, and opened it when he heard her "come in." She looked surprised to see him, and her expression morphed to one of anxiety almost instantly.

"Has something happened?" she asked. "Is something wrong?" Danny immediately shook his head.

"Nothing like what you're thinking. I need a new backpack, is all. Do you have something I can use?" She raised an eyebrow but got out of bed. She was still in her pajamas, and her hair was in disarray, needing to be brushed.

"Yeah, maybe. Let me check. Why do you need a new bag?" She opened her closet, moving aside her dresses and jackets. Danny came up to look with her, but he had no idea what kind of system she used to organize her closet.

"I'll explain after school. I need to get going." Sam really would be there any minute, now. Jazz made an ah-ha sound when she spotted a black backpack in the back of her closet, buried under a couple of thick tomes that hadn't fit on her shelves.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that, little brother." She handed the new bag to him, and Danny took it gratefully.

"Thanks," he said. He heard his mom call up the stairs, telling him his ride was there. He raced to his room to put his papers and books and pencils into this new bag. He hoped, with everything that had happened, the rest of the day would pass by uneventfully.

"We need to warn people, dude," Tucker told Danny over lunch. The half-ghost had told them about the interview he had with his parents, and his friends' reactions had been wary but supportive. Sam had pointed out that it might've been a trap, which Danny had discarded immediately. They'd told him the same thing as Fenton—and why would lie to their son? Tucker had said it might be good to get some kind of government agency off his back, even if it was the local law enforcement. They might help block the GIW, though he'd sounded doubtful.

Danny had also told them about that morning, and the backpack disaster. They had reassured him it wasn't his fault—he'd had a lot on his mind. But Danny couldn't help but disagree. He was meant to be past these sorts of mistakes.

Now, they were discussing the Empress. Even talking about, Danny felt a mixture of dread, fear, and anxiety bubble up from his chest, spilling into his limbs until he felt paralyzed.

"Yeah, but not as Fenton. And I can't exactly be super active as Phantom right now," Danny said. "I'll try and warn the police and my parents at the interview, and then maybe they can spread the word. But it wouldn't be good to cause mass panic anyway." They had elected to eat inside today, their conversation obscured from prying ears by the din of the cafeteria. Tucker and Danny sat across from Sam, and a couple of the quieter kids sat at the other end of the table. Around them, kids shouted and threw oranges and apples at the ground. The trio spoke in hushed tones, content to let the other kids think they were just being weird.

"It might cause more panic if everyone's unprepared," Tucker shot back. Then, more thoughtfully, he added, "I guess uncoordinated efforts would be bad, though." Even as he tried to speak about it clinically and logically, Danny could tell that both of his friends were strained. Tucker had taken to eating more than usual, almost without realizing it. And Sam alternated between tap-tap-tapping her steel-toed boots against the linoleum and chewing her lip. Danny was afraid it might start bleeding.

"We can start to coordinate an effort," Sam said. Her knee bounced up and down, in time to her trepidation. "I'm not sure people will even believe him. We should be the ones who make preparations."

"We will," Danny said. He felt too worked up to eat, though both his friends had told him they didn't need him passing out in class. But the emotions in his stomach threatened to send back anything he got down—it wouldn't have been the first time fear had made him ill. "I'll get some more weapons for you guys. Thermoses. We might even be able to get that ghost-proof Kevlar stuff my parents made for the police. Or make it ourselves—they have the blueprints."

"We should make a list," Sam said, making a face. "Ugh. I sound like your sister." But she got out her phone to start typing down the ideas they had. Paper could too easily be lost and found by someone who would ask questions.

"Back up," Tucker said, making a "time-out" gesture with his hands. "Maybe Danny's parents wouldn't believe him—they think he's a criminal or whatever—but why not the townspeople? They think he's a hero. Why would they believe he's lying?"

"Because it sounds crazy, Tucker." Danny rubbed his forehead. He felt a headache coming on. Combined with his nausea, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to concentrate in class—not that he really felt it mattered. It was almost like all of his other problems—even the GIW—had faded to gray when compared to the colorful Empress. "A ghost empress coming to conquer the Earth?"

"No more crazy than what's actually happened here," Tucker said. "Pariah Dark, anyone? The Empress is only one of many who have tried to do outlandish things." Tucker reached into his Dorito bag only to find it empty. Sighing, he dug into his lunchbox to reveal another Dorito bag, which he wasted no time in opening.

"Well," Danny said, tired of arguing. What did it matter if he was believed or not believed? What could they do anyway? What could he do? He rubbed harder at his temple. He could feel his head throbbing in time with his heartbeat—thump-thump, thump-thump. "I'm going to warn them no matter what. We'll see what happens from there, I guess." Really, they didn't know how his parents or the police or the citizens of Amity Park were going to react; and until they did, they couldn't do much in the way of planning right then.

"You can shut down your parents' portal," Sam said abruptly. She turned to look at them, her purple eyes narrowed. Her knee bounced faster. "When it gets closer to when she's supposed to get here. Just… unplug it, or whatever. She won't be able to use it, then."

The noise of the cafeteria wasn't helping Danny's head. "Okay, yes, but there are a ton of stable portals that pop up around Amity all the time. And she may already have something to create portals—I have no idea if her white knight and his crew came through a natural or artificially made portal. There's just no way to know until she's finished taking over the Zone."

But the more he spoke, the more he thought about it. To have a portal stable enough to let all the ghosts come through… It would have to last a long time, something that even stable, natural portals weren't known for. If she were planning on coming to Amity directly, she'd have to use some kind of artifact. And as he tried to imagine some kind of artifact that would do all that… Dora had had one, but…

"At least an army of ghosts probably isn't going to come pouring out of your basement," Sam said. Danny frowned. If only he could think…

"You're right," he muttered. "If we shut it down, she'll have to use some kind of artifact. And to make sure it's large and keep it open for so long, she'll need to use places where the barriers between here and the Zone are weakest. That's going to be out in the forest somewhere." Where Dora had created her own portal for similar reasons, though her motive for making one was much better than the Empress's. Danny remembered the fight, the fleeing ghost citizens. They had looked so scared… Tonight's the deadline, he recalled. If Dora didn't get into contact with him today, they would have to figure out some way to get to her.

"So we know where they're going to be coming from," Tucker said. "Roughly. If only we could keep them in, somehow." But the roughly part is the problem, Danny thought. Knowing exactly where they would make the portal would let them make some kind of ghost shield around the area, stopping them from escaping and wreaking havoc. But not knowing meant they couldn't do that.

"We could keep them out, somehow," Danny said. "Out of the city." A giant ghost shield, like the one… Well, no need to think about that. He had enough problems without thinking of the alternative future in which he, not some Empress, had basically destroyed the world.

"I thought your parents couldn't make one large enough to cover the whole city," Sam said. "They barely managed to make one to cover the whole school." It was true, unfortunately. Larger shields tended to destabilize. And if they did manage to hold, they weren't as strong as smaller ones. But there had to be a way—there was a way, he knew. He'd seen it, as much as he'd tried to block it from his memory. They just had to find it.

"We have a month," he said. "A month to figure it out."

They had done what they could, brainstorming ideas hours after school to think of a way to stabilize larger shields, but eventually they'd gotten frustrated and tired. Danny had rummaged in the lab to find them more weapons and back-up thermoses, which they'd taken gladly before going home. Sam had made him promise to tell them right away if Dora got in contact with him, and he'd tiredly said he would.

Because his parents would be home any minute from working on the ghost shield at school, Danny had been pushed from the lab. Without access to his parents' blueprints, it was hard for him to continue working on the shield or other equipment he had wanted to modify for his less durable friends and sister. And the pounding of his head—which had been dull at lunch—had reached a terrible crescendo. As much as he wanted to take pain pills for it, a couple of ibuprofen no longer seemed to work on him—and he didn't want to take half a bottle for something as small as a headache.

So, glass of water in hand, he went up to his room, thinking he might try and take a nap. But upon opening his door, he saw a certain someone lounging on his bed. Technus had his head propped up by his hands, looking as if he owned the place. Danny scowled.

"I thought we agreed you'd either stay under the bed or in my closet," he said. He'd checked on Technus after school to make sure the ghost hadn't done anything stupid—and he hadn't, to Danny's relief. Taking advantage of the ghost's lucidity, he'd done his best to lay some ground rules.

"I agreed to nothing," Technus declared. Danny resisted the urge to growl; he did not need an attitude right now. And it was harder to be nice to the ghost when he was insisting on being an ass. Not to mention, he was much healthier now. "You, ghost child, told me I had to stay out of sight, and I simply did not feel the need to comply."

"If you don't comply, you're going in the thermos," Danny said bluntly. He couldn't have the ghost escaping (something he was much more capable of doing now than he had been last night) or being seen by his parents. Both would put Technus in danger of the mortal kind. Or as close to a ghost could get to mortal being a ghost. "You know I don't have time to deal with you."

The ghost seemed to sober at that—he knew the Empress was no joke. "I can't hide in your closet or under your bed all day," he protested. "It's a drag."

"It'll be even more of a drag if you're caught and dissected, won't it?" Danny said. He set his water down on his nightstand. His head was threatening to explode, and he honest to god just needed Technus off his fucking bed. The ghost seemed taken aback by the venom in his words, though Danny didn't know what reaction he'd been expecting.

"I suppose…" The ghost trailed off. "Are you feeling alright, ghost child?" Danny felt irritated by the question, especially because it was Technus asking. And there was something inside him rising—something like hysteria tickling the back of his throat, making him want to laugh. Alright? I haven't been alright since you ruined my life. Danny picked up the thermos off his desk, and the ghost finally seemed to get the message. He flew off the bed to reside under it, rustling the blankets as he went by.

"You could always fetch me a magazine or a book or something," Technus muttered, sounding annoyed. He doesn't get to be annoyed, Danny thought, not when he sent the GIW and Valerie and my parents after me more than they already were. He marched over to his desk, grabbed the thickest book he could find—an encyclopedia of space-related things—and chucked it under his bed. The startled oof was very satisfying.

Danny sat on his bed, which was colder than normal because of Technus, and completely ignored his homework in favor of rubbing his burning eyes. He heard the GAV in the driveway and the door open and close. His parents were home, but he had no desire to see them.

He was about to lay down completely and try to maybe take a nap when his ghost sense went off. He shot up, grasping the thermos that he'd set on his nightstand in one hand. Who is it now? And then, before he could react, something flew—intangible—through his window. Jumping off the bed, he pointed the thermos at the thing.

"Who are you?" he demanded—he didn't recognize the signature. But instead of answering, the ghost, turning tangible once more, began to squawk, hopping around on one leg. "Oh," Danny said, lowering the thermos. It was a ghost bird—some kind of dead hawk. Unlike some of the other ghostly animals Danny knew, it didn't appear to have the ability to speak.

From under the bed, Technus poked his head out. "What is it, ghost child?" he asked. A harness was strapped to the bird; the front had a rather familiar insignia on it, and the back supported a container with a rolled-up scroll inside. Something like relief spread inside Danny.

"It's from Dora," he murmured, half responding to Technus and half thinking aloud. Kneeling, he carefully began to undo the straps holding the scroll down. The bird was large—the size of a small dog—and had wicked-sharp claws and a beak to match. But it didn't seem interested in him as it started to preen its wing feathers (not that it likely needed to, being a ghost and all).

"The ghost princess or whatever?" Technus snorted. "What's she sending you a message for?" The tone was derisive, and Danny glared back at him. He stood, the scroll in one hand.

"Why do you think, Technus?" Since the bird didn't seem interested in doing anything but grooming itself on the floor, Danny went to sit on his bed to read the message. The scroll was made of thick, parchment-like material. It glowed faintly. "Why did you come to me when you were in trouble?" Technus didn't seem to have an answer for that, and, grumbling, he went back under the bed.

Danny unfurled the scroll to reveal small, neat handwriting, clearly written using a quill or dip pen. He almost felt like he needed a magnifying glass to read it, like some old-age scholar deciphering Benjamin Franklin's letters. His pounding head made it difficult for him to focus, but he pushed through, rubbing his temple as he read.

To my dearest friend, it began.

I have omitted names to ensure our mutual safety, should this message fall into malevolent hands. I pray to the gods above that you are well, and you should know that my people and myself are well, also. We have found a suitable place to rest in the location you described and have taken pains to obscure ourselves from human eyes. We have not yet been discovered, although hunters have taken note of the increased ectoplasmic activity in the area and reacted accordingly.

Danny frowned. He had hoped they'd been far enough away to avoid detection completely, but he guessed he'd underestimated the ghost hunters' equipment. The relief that had come when he'd realized whom the message was from only grew now that he knew Dora and her citizens were relatively safe.

After arranging our camp into a semblance of order, I pondered on the best way to contact you. At last, I decided to send our fastest bird to you, in the hopes that she would be small enough (not necessarily as in physical size, but the strength of her ectoplasmic aura) to escape detection. I apologize for the delay, though I know you will forgive me for it.

I also know that your questions regarding the incident that took place a few days prior must be numerous and pressing. I have, in this missive, endeavored to anticipate and answer them, although I am not all knowing and thus may have missed satisfying some of your curiosity.

Firstly, regarding the foes you helped me and my people to escape: they were knights of the villain known as the Empress, as well as Walker's minions, whom with I am certain you are more familiar. This Empress fell upon the Zone suddenly from the Banished Lands, quickly conquering the Outer Borders before anyone with any strength could retaliate. From there, she has made her way inward—and at each location, she offers the ghosts residing there a choice, the same that she offered me: to serve her willingly in all things or to be taken by force and made servants against their will. As you may have already surmised, Walker chose the former. I have also heard tell that my Aragon submitted, although I have not seen it with mine own eyes. I, however, could never make my people slaves.

Thus, we resisted. We were not the only ones to do so—Pandora held her keep long enough to escape, though I know not where, and to my knowledge the yetis continue their fight against her. The Empress's siege against my castle was like naught I have ever seen: her army was formidable; and she had great beasts on her side. They were massive, far larger than even myself as a dragon, and malformed as if diseased. She had three she used against us, and they were twisted and slavering, sometimes with as many as a hundred limbs, having also fangs longer than yourself.

I can only presume that she somehow gained these creatures' loyalties in the Banished Lands, for there is no other place where things such as these might be found. In what manner she did this, however, I could not begin to guess. And I cannot say how many she has in total, for I have deduced that she did not use them all when we clashed.

Mid-way through the siege, she withdrew these horrific monsters, along with herself and her most senior advisor, Aevum. I have no inkling why, save that she required them elsewhere in the Zone. My sympathy for those who had to go against them is great; for we barely managed to persevere against them in the short time they were set against us.

This turn was to our benefit, however. With only her foot soldiers and Walker left behind to finish us, I was able to use my energy, which previously had been occupied keeping the beasts I described above out of my kingdom, toward more efficient means of escape. By this I refer to my scepter, with which I was able to store up enough of my energy to open a stable portal into the mortal realm.

For all that, my strength was waning, and I fear that if you had not arrived, my knights and soldiers would not have found the determination to prevent my enemy's army from capturing and decimating my people. What you have done for me has earned you my most profound gratitude, which you will have until one or both of us ceases to exist.

It is unfortunate that I can tell you nothing further of the Empress's schemes beyond controlling the Zone. On the battlefield, I fought her but once and sustained injury because of it. I will try to describe her for you. She is unsightly: abnormally tall and skeletally thin; her skin is the color of a human bruise, a pale, sickly purple; she garbs herself in what looks to be human bones, which rattle terribly when she moves; and she fights with no weapon but her powers, though these are ample to satiate her desire for permanent destruction.

I can think of nothing else of import to relate to you, dear friend. We are making the most of our poor situation. Although I would ask you one last favor: the bird—Volant, we have christened her—will be in need of ectoplasm. Should you desire to reply, simply attach your message to Volant in the same manner you found this.

Sincerely,

Your Stanch Ally

Danny gazed down at the parchment numbly. Somehow knowing all these details about the Empress was almost worse than being in the dark about her. Now he could picture his enemy, and the terrible army she seemed to have at her disposal. The letters on the page blurred until they appeared to be written in another language.

He let it fall to one side and buried his head in his hands. One day, he just wanted there to be no bad news, nothing bad happening—no Technus, no Dora, no GIW, no Valerie, no ghost-hunting parents. He felt like he was drowning in a pit of mud, suffocating so slowly, and he could barely move. He might try to grasp something to pull himself out, but he'd be too late by the time his fingers reached their destination. His breaths turned shuddery, and suddenly he knew it was real—he was drowning, was suffocating, only no one could see and he was about to die.

Pull yourself together, he ordered himself. He'd been in dire situations before. This was no different than Pariah Dark or his future self. He could do this. His breathing calmed, and he released his head from his hands.

"You don't have to do anything tonight," he told himself. And although he had promised Sam to contact them as soon as anything happened, he couldn't summon the energy. Instead, he curled up on his bed. Just tonight, he thought. He could prepare more tomorrow, talk with Sam and Tucker tomorrow, do everything tomorrow. Tonight, he would try and sleep—God knew he was going to need it.

But first, Volant. He got up and fetched some Ecto-Dejecto from one of his drawers. Danny used it for wounds, but it was essentially just ectoplasm, and should be good enough for the bird. Volant drank from the syringe gratefully. Then, Danny went back to his bed and laid down.

"Any news, ghost child?" Technus asked from under his bed, and Danny almost groaned. He curled up tighter.

"No," he said. "No news." And there wasn't really anything in the scroll that Danny hadn't already known, nothing he could work on right this minute. So it was best to keep calm while he could still manage it.

Still ignoring his homework, Danny decided the best thing to do was to try and relax before going to bed. The Empress could wait. It had been a while since he had relaxed, and although he felt a little guilty for doing so now, Danny got on his phone, intent on surfing the Internet for something mindless to watch. He doubted he would find any of it funny—especially with the impending end of the world—but he could try.

He should've known better than to think he might escape the reality of his situation by going on to the Internet. In fact, as he hesitantly clicked on Mary Yang's latest video and saw that someone, one of three possible someones, had betrayed him, he felt he should've known better about a lot of things. Chiefly trusting three people he'd hardly known to keep the secret that might get him killed or worse.

True, they hadn't name-dropped him in the video, but he couldn't help his rising horror as he continued to watch it. Mikey, Abigail, or Nathan—or all three—had taken it upon themselves to bypass his judgment and go behind his back to tell the world things he had said to them in confidence.

How dare they? He thought. They know this isn't a game, this isn't something to be messed with. And yet they had gone and messed with it anyway, the delicate balance Danny had to achieve every single day to avoid the GIW and his parents.

It wasn't even necessarily what they had done; it was that they'd gone behind his back to do it. They hadn't consulted him or asked if it was alright to tell everyone his story—an action only Danny felt he had the right to do. What if they had accidentally let something slip? What if what they had done had unforeseen consequences that made life harder for Danny than it already was?

The GIW were after him. His parents—who knew if his parents still thought he was a criminal. Valerie likely wouldn't change because of this. And the Empress was still coming.

Danny let his phone fall to floor, closing his eyes. Tomorrow. Like everything else, he'd deal with this tomorrow.

And I'll deal with whoever did this tomorrow, too. It was a goal he felt he could keep, especially given how out-of-reach the others seemed to be. Tomorrow, I'm going to yell at you until your ears fall off, whichever one of you did this to me.

AN: Thanks so much for the response! I never imagined that a story I had written would get so much attention :) Thanks as always to TheSteelShadow for editing this, and next time we have the gang confronting Mikey and co. and the questioning with the police! (or at least that's the plan). For UPDATES, check my profile (though I'm hoping sometime in February right now). Some questions: Is Danny too angsty or does he have the right amount of negative emotion given the situation? Is the pacing too slow, too fast, or pretty alright? Feel free to review (cc or even just what you don't like or like or anything)