Chapter Thirty-One: Trivial Theories

Wes wasn't a killer.

That's what he told himself, anyway. Danny Fenton was still alive (alive as he ever was) and Wes had no reason to consider himself responsible for any harm that befell him. He'd never crossed the line. Danny was fine. Wes was fine.

But only because Desiree had interfered.

Wes wondered if the wishing ghost created alternate realities with her wishes. Was there still a reality where she had never appeared before him in the break room? Was there still a reality where Wes's meddling had... led Danny to his end?

When he closed his eyes he could still see the boy's face, puffy and ill... stricken pale by the blood blossoms. He wondered if Sam and Tucker would have found the resources to save him in time? Would they have revealed Danny to save his life or would they have let him peril as Wes did?

Wes couldn't help but wonder 'what-if'.

That being said, he still wasn't a killer. Not now. Only in his mind.

How could he repent for something he'd never done? It's not like he could apologize to the kid. Oh no, Wes was much too proud to admit to Danny that he'd made a mistake. Danny would never let it go, ever, and maybe that would be the last straw for Ishiyama. If someone found out that he'd confronted Danny about murdering him in an alternate timeline then he could be facing expulsion.

No, Wes's only option was to forget it had ever happened and move on. That was the only route available. There wasn't anyone he could even tell! Ever since he'd embarked on this mission, he'd driven all his friends from him... he doubted even Justin would listen to him. His ex-best-friend would probably report Wes himself if he tried to explain this nasty plague on his mind. What could he even say?

'Hey Justin, I almost murdered Danny Fenton and I can't get it out of my head and Danny doesn't even know! What do you think about that?'

Wes was carrying to his grave and that was that.

Without trying to expose Danny, school became a haze. He still wanted to reveal the other boy's secret, don't get him wrong... he was just taking a break. He needed to reevaluate his methods, reevaluate himself. Before he knew it, spring break was upon him and Wes had even more spare time that he didn't know what to do with. Justin hadn't spoken to him in two months and Wes didn't know who to even approach to ask to hang out, so he spent most of his time in his room. He spent hours upon hours watching conspiracy videos and letting the hours waste away so that he could distract himself from all his fucking melodramatic bullshit that'd made its home in his mind.

Wes forgot about Easter until the night before when he Dad cautioned him to wear something nice for church the next morning.

"We never go to church."

"It's Easter, Wes. Everyone goes to church on Easter."

"Like going to church once a year will spare us from God's wrath, but whatever floats your boat."

"That's the kind of attitude you're going to have to suppress tomorrow in front of your grandfather."

Wes almost choked on his water. "Granddad? No way, he's still alive?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Sorry, it's just been like eternity since you've acknowledged his existence. Is he still in assisted living?"

"Residents generally can't check themselves out, so what do you think?" Walter cocked a brow.

"I think that it sounds like a penitentiary for the elderly. I feel bad for leaving him there."

"You know that he can't live with us. He'd drive both of us up the wall."

"I know, I know."

"So... you'll behave yourself tomorrow?"

"I'll try."

"Wes."

"I haven't even done anything lately! Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's the fact that you haven't done anything lately that worries me."

Him and everyone else. People at school were still on edge around Wes because they were afraid that he had some intricate scheme up his sleeve. Really, the only people to act normal around Wes were Danny and his friends.

"You should have more faith in me."

"Maybe if you place more faith where you should."

"Oh God, is this another one of your tirades where you go on and on about why we should be more religious that you only deliver around now and Christmas?"

When his Dad took a moment to long to answer, Wes stood up from the dinner table and started to retreat towards his room.

He didn't need another talk about what he should be doing with his life. He didn't need anyone to tell him what he should be doing. He already knew that he was a special kind of fucked up in that department.

Maybe that's why Wes found it so hard to want to give up even though the world had shown him the horrible repercussions of his actions.

After the church service, Wes and Walter drove to the nursing home. As soon as they stepped inside, Wes remembered exactly why he hated visiting this place. It smelled like prunes, hand-sanitizer, and death. Everything looked so pristine but Wes knew that behind half these walls that there sickly inhabitants on the edge of dementia and other crippling ills that plagued the elderly.

As he passed through the facility, Wes realized that he didn't want to end up in a place like this. He wondered if places like these were why so many ghosts around Amity Park were malevolent. He'd lose his fucking mind too if he spent the rest of his afterlife with the knowledge that he'd drawn his last breaths in these gray walls.

"He's changed rooms since the last time we visited him. He doesn't have a roommate anymore," Walter told Wes.

"He didn't drive anyone to death with his talking, did he?" Wes joked.

Walter cut him off with a single glare. "What did we talk about?"

"... right."

They arrived at Wes's Granddad's room soon enough. When they entered, Granddad was sitting on the edge of his bed, captivated by an episode of Dr. Phil. Well, at least the old-man was senile enough to keep up with reality TV.

Walter coughed. "Dad."

"Hm?" Granddad turned. "Oh, Walt! You didn't say you were visiting today!"

"I, uh, called. Twice."

"Oh, bugger. The nurses never keep up with all the phone calls."

"It be like that," Wes assessed.

Granddad turned to him, unimpressed. "And this is...?"

Jeez, he'd forgotten him? Oh well, maybe it was better that he didn't remember Wes as a child. Wes wished he didn't remember himself at that age half the time.

"Wes," Walter answered. "You remember Wes."

"Ah," Granddad said. "I suppose I do. You've grown all but two feet since I've last seen you!"

The last time he'd seen his Granddad had been eighth grade. He'd been five foot eight.

"Wes has really shot up. He's on the basketball team now."

His Dad and Granddad talked for a few minutes while Wes made himself comfortable staring at the window and making minimal comments when necessary. It was hard to know what to say when he wasn't allowed to speak his mind.

"–heard that Phantom fellow is back. The other residents mention the ghosts from time to time, but the workers here try to tell us that it's youngfolk malarkey, but I've known better since I was a lad. These ghosts have been among us since before any of us were but a thought! They don't do well to try and fool us further."

Well, that caught Wes's attention.

"What do you mean that Phantom is back?"

He couldn't help it, for the life of him. Despite his hiatus, despite his reluctance to meddle in Danny's life until he was sure that he wouldn't cross the line, Wes's curiosity was piqued. There was something akin to familiarity in his Granddad's words, something... new.

Goddamn it. He was doing it again.

Walter hardly had enough time to shoot Wes a cautious glance before Granddad launched into a full-blown rant.

"That Phantom kid has been around for ages! First ghost I've ever seen with my own two eyes, would you believe it? Never knew why, but one day he just appeared in my bedroom with me and my Ma! Thought she was off her rocker, and I thought I was on mine by how much my stomach spun! If I remember... oh, gosh, I think he corrected Ma on a Roosevelt quote. Can't quite remember what she was telling me, but I remember that kid's face when he said it. Seemed awful proud of himself for that bit of trivia. Those eyes were like bulbs, green and distant. They haven't left my mind since. So when they tell us that these ghosts aren't real, I tell 'em I know better because Billy Weston isn't no fool!"

Wes gaped. "So he... he when you were... how old?"

"Couldn't've been older than eight or so. Nineteen-forty... what year would that be?"

"And you're sure it was Phantom?"

Granddad had onset dementia. There's no way that he'd seen Danny all those years ago... he had to be mistaken... had to be confusing him with another ghost.

"Son, I've seen him on the news and there's no way he's not the same fellow. That hair, the eyes... even the black and white suit. I could never figure out what the suit was for. I thought maybe he worked in a submarine. Ridiculous, eh? Even all his quips in fights... he sounds the exact same."

"Dad, that's enough," Walter growled. "Don't be feeding Wes ideas."

"Ideas? Nonsense, the kid wanted to hear about the ghost kid. No harm in ghost stories."

But it wasn't a story. Supposedly, Phantom had been around for years and years... which didn't make sense if Danny was Phantom. Wes had grown up with Danny. They'd been in the same Kindergarten class, right? Danny had camped out at the sandbox with Tucker, year after year, until finally they were too big for recess. Sam had joined their trio in middle school, tripping after each other down the hallways and keeping to themselves in the grand scheme of things. Danny Fenton was a young soul–Wes had watched him grow up.

None of it made sense.

Maybe this was his wake-up call. There were still so many things that he didn't know, so many mysteries that no one else wanted to approach. Wes wouldn't let them evade him anymore. He was done biding his time.

It was like the sea had parted. All his doubts about going too far were pushed aside because he knew better now! He wouldn't cross that line, tiptoe maybe, but he needed this again. He needed... needed to investigate. He couldn't stand not understanding, couldn't stand knowing that there was something out there that needed to be unraveled.

He really was hopeless, wasn't he? Or maybe he was just addicted to the thrill.

"You've really done it, Dad," Walter hissed. "You broke him."

Wes didn't hear his Dad. He'd already started formulating his next big plan.

The logical conclusion was that his original hypothesis had been incorrect. Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were not always the same person. Yes, they were the same person now... but Danny Fenton had not created Danny Phantom. Phantom must have been a regular old ghost, floating through the world and correcting small children like the asshat he is, and somehow fused with unsuspecting Danny Fenton. The implications themselves gave Wes a headache, that the Danny Fenton he once knew had shared a mind-meld with a foreign spirit, but it's the only explanation that made a lick of sense.

Now, he just needed to confront Danny and... and then what? Make sure that his little theory was correct before he shouted it to the hills?

Honestly, he wasn't even sure that his theory was right. Just because it was the only thing that made sense didn't mean that it was plausible. Wes was at a loss. Maybe his hiatus had muddled his critical thinking? He felt like he used to be sharper than this.

Well, the only way to get a straight answer was to go to the source. Although, then Danny would know that Wes was back at trying to expose him but that hardly mattered because he probably doubted that Wes had even stopped at all. Danny was just tired enough not to care most days.

It was still spring break. Wes had found Danny at the mall with Sam and Tucker of all places, outside the video store. He was a little taken aback that he'd actually run into them, but now wasn't the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I've been having an existential crisis that you need to fucking settle before I lose my mind," he greeted.

"Oh, hi to you too, asshole," Danny laughed. "Are we finally on speaking terms again?"

"Was Phantom another ghost before you two became the same person?"

He was met with three blank stares.

"Huh?"

"After all this time of shouting Danny is Phantom, it's weird to hear him sing a different tune," Tucker observed.

"Shut the fuck up, Foley. Now, answer my question."

"I don't... understand your question?"

Wes ran his hand through his hair. "My Granddad's convinced that he saw Phantom when he was a kid, so it got me thinking that maybe Phantom's been around for ages and ages and that you... I don't know! That you and a ghost merged to make... uh, you."

"Nope. I've always been me, always been my own ghost. You're really getting desperate for some new tea, aren't you?"

Damn it, there went his only theory. Nothing still made sense.

"Then how were you... how did he see you in the forties?"

"Hm?"

God, he felt like an idiot. He was starting to doubt that Granddad had seen Phantom at all.

"It doesn't matter."

"Wait," Sam said. "Was your Granddad that kid that Danny scared by phasing through his bed?"

"I did what now?"

"That time with the InfiMap. Remember?"

"Oh... Yeah! Yeah, I did do that. And you two hid under the bed–"

"–but you were too dumb to shut up for one damn second and started quoting Roosevelt–"

Danny crossed his arms. "That's the one quote I can actually remember!"

"That's nothing to be proud of!"

Wes watched the trio exchange banter and spiraled into more confusion.

"So you're telling me... all three of you were in my Granddad's bedroom?"

Tucker shrugged. "We didn't have too many options."

Wes grit his teeth. "But how!"

"Eh, it's a long story. Vlad stole a map of the Ghost Zone and we had to chase him through a dozen historical periods to get it back."

"I got to cross 'burnt at the stake' off my bucket list."

"Really, the little kid was the least weirdest part of that day," Tucker added.

"So you guys time traveled?"

After everything else in his life, why not at this point? Because what the fuck?

"Yep." Danny didn't even sound fazed. "Probably one of my less stressful experiences with it, to be honest. Let's just say alternate timelines aren't fun."

He didn't have to say that twice.

For a moment, he almost considered asking Danny what he'd seen, but he thought better of it. Who knew what horrible things the boy had seen in almost-worlds of aborted tragedies. From his own experiences, he could say that he never wanted to see or think about any of those events coming to pass.

Because Wes didn't want to be a killer.

He just wanted to win.