Chapter Seventeen: Reversions

"…How much ecto-energy would it even take to create a half-ghost? If we can find some kind of a baseline, then we can narrow down the possibilities of who it could be. There can't be that many people who've had the opportunity to be exposed to that much ecto-energy," his mom was saying as she and Jack came in through the front door. Danny felt oddly envious for a moment—no GIW watching them, taking their things, and threatening to torture them. They could go in and out of the house as they pleased without regard for who might see them.

Then, what she had actually said caught up with him. A terrible sliver of fear pierced his gut. It will all be theoretical, anyway, he thought. It doesn't matter—and there's no way they'll think it's me even if they do figure out that getting blasted by a portal can create a half-ghost. Still, the sandwich he was eating was suddenly bland and tasteless, like eating paper. He pushed it away, though he knew he needed to eat something. His teleportation had taken too much energy, as it always did.

I need to get better at that.

"Do you think any of the other ghosts we've run into were half-human, Mads?" his dad asked. "The Red Huntress talked about knowing others. But the odds of more…" He trailed off.

"We should get on those tests right away," his mom agreed. They both moved into the part-kitchen, part-dining room, where Danny was sitting at the table and staring at his food, willing his appetite to come back. I like turkey and cheese, he thought mournfully.

"Hey, Dann-o," his dad greeted, ruffling his hair. "What have you been up to?"

Danny fought to keep his face under control. "The usual," he said vaguely. Lying to you, trying to stop a crazy evil ghost, getting the GIW off my back. "Homework and stuff." He wondered if they'd believed Phantom about the Empress—or if they were planning on doing anything about what their former-enemy (son) had said. He hoped they would. He wanted his parents on his side, behind him, supporting him, as they had before he'd managed to turn himself half-ghost. Before the lying and the bad grades and the missed school and the disappointed looks.

He wanted them to be proud of him, their half-ghost son. He wanted them to understand him, to approve of what he'd done. It was the same urge that had overcome him nights ago, when he'd been down here sipping hot chocolate with his mom. But he couldn't tell them, couldn't give up his secrets. How much would it hurt, spilling all he'd kept from them the past two years?

His mom sighed, opening the fridge to look for some lunch. "I just wish we'd had more time with him. He answered so many questions, but he left so many others blank." His dad went into the kitchen, too, watching Maddie bring out the things she needed to prepare a salad—lettuce, cucumber, bell pepper, tomato.

"Valdez thought she could drive the GIW off." Danny's dad shrugged. "But she was wrong, and none of use knew the agents would even be able to get a warrant. There's nothing we can do about it now, Mads. We'll just have to figure out some way to talk with him later. Hey, what if we—" here his voice rose with his excitement—"make something for him, disguise his ectoplasmic signature somehow, so the GIW can't track him. It wouldn't be a problem if we tried to talk with him again." His hands gestured oddly in his fervor.

Would they really do that for me? Danny wondered. His insides warmed at the prospect—they really were on his side, even if they were only doing so because they knew he was part human. But just the fact that they no longer viewed Phantom negatively was crazy to him. He studiously tried not to think about what they might be trying to do to him if he had really been turned into a full ghost in the accident.

His mom made a face as she began slicing the lettuce, as though she'd smelled something gross and rotting. His dad brought out another cutting board and started helping, chopping up some tomato. "Should we really do that, Jack? We'd be giving him the ability to hide not just from the GIW but from everyone else, too." She put the chopped-up lettuce into a bowl. Danny tried to appear as though he weren't listening, taking a bite of his sandwich.

She still doesn't trust me. Frustration rose in his throat, bitter on his tongue. What did he have to do for her to stop doubting him? Throw himself in front of a bus to save someone? She knew he hadn't committed any crimes; she knew he was dedicated to protecting Amity. Her doubt was physically painful. It felt as though she was denying him a piece of himself. That was what Phantom was—a piece of himself. No less than his human part, anyway.

The scars she'd left from years of awful judgment had just begun healing—why was she tearing them open so callously now?

"Would that be so bad?" his dad challenged. But his voice wasn't hard—it was oddly soft. "You saw what the Red Huntress did to him, what the GIW want to do to him. What we almost did to him. We owe him. And he's just a kid." His mom kept frowning.

"He shouldn't have fought the ghosts in the first place. And just because he didn't commit those crimes doesn't mean he should have the right to hide from everyone. We should have a way to track him."

Why? The suspicion was a poison. Insidious. Why does she want to track me? Do they plan on capturing me for the GIW? Arresting me? No. That was stupid. His parents didn't even like the GIW. And if they had wanted to capture him, they could've tried in the warehouse or at the station. His parents were many things, but liars were not one of them. Not like him. And they couldn't go after him—he was human now. He had rights.

Rights Dora and her people don't have. Rights Wulf doesn't have. Rights Frostbite doesn't have.

"We could have some kind of tracker for us, then," his dad said, clearly trying to compromise. It was hard for him to go back on an idea once he'd had it—it was why they had so many weird inventions that had no practical application. His dad just couldn't help himself, and Maddie enjoyed making complex machines for the sake of making complex machines. "Blocks the GIW and the Huntress, but we can find him."

Danny's mom's nose twitched, but she nodded as she washed some vegetables. "Yes, that could work. Don't get me wrong, Jack—I believe him about everything. But he shouldn't have kept his status to himself. At the very least, he shouldn't have tried to fight the ghosts. He's a minor."

Tried? Danny thought. I did fight the ghosts! Better than both of you combined. It wasn't arrogance—he knew his parents were not very skilled in the field, especially his dad. His mom was more capable. Valerie did rival him, though—he could admit that. He wanted to get up and leave; this was not the reaction he'd been hoping for. He didn't think he could sit there as they argued about helping him. If they did end up giving a signature-blocking device to his ghost half, were they even planning on telling him about the tracker, too? Danny had thought they weren't liars, but he supposed he had to have gotten it from somewhere.

They'd made no mention of the warning he'd given them about the Empress. They'd probably already talked about it—or they didn't believe him. Likely it's the second option. Their opinions of Phantom had changed, but they hadn't changed enough.

"Exactly. A teenager barely knows what they're doing on a good day," Jack pointed out. Evidently, they'd forgotten that Danny was there, listening in. The half-ghost stayed still and silent. I should know what else they think. "There's no way he thought it all the way through." His mom's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Yes, I suppose. I just wanted to ask him so many more questions, even if some of the information he gave us is wrong." She chopped the cucumber vigorously.

Wrong? I never once lied to you during that questioning! It had probably been the first honest conversation he'd had with his parents in months. And lies of omission didn't count; he'd let them assume what they would. He warred with himself: stay and listen to this vitriol or leave and not know what they thought about him. He was nearly finished with his sandwich, but… Strategically, it made more sense to stay.

"I know. The whole 'ghost culture' thing." His dad chortled, getting out some kind of oil for the salad. Danny tried not to scowl. "And the warning at the end was odd, too. We've dealt with ghost armies before just fine; I don't know why he was so panicked." His mom shrugged. It wasn't the response he'd wanted, but it was better than nothing. They at least seemed to believe something was coming, even if they didn't have the urgency he'd wanted them to.

"It wouldn't hurt to give more people more weapons, especially the police," his mom said. "We need to figure out a way to talk to him again, Jack. Alone—Valdez was a good way to convince him we weren't there to capture him, but she asked the wrong questions. We need to know about his biology, how he came to be. If he has an Obsession. Why he didn't go to the hospital after he became half-ghost. There must've been side effects to having that much ecto-energy pumped into his body at once." His dad nodded enthusiastically, getting out bowls to dish their salad up.

"The only way he'll show up is if there's a ghost around," he said. He served himself some salad, accidentally spilling some onto the counter. Maddie watched it absently. "So we'll have to try and be faster than usual to catch him before he disappears."

And if I stay will you just try to pry my identity out of me again? Danny didn't want them figuring it out. He didn't want someone else outing him. He wanted them to know on his terms—no one else's. He wanted control over his own secrets, a power he hadn't known since Technus had forced his half-human status into the open. And he wanted them to accept him, all of him.

He wanted so many things. Most of them were probably impossible.

"Did it go well, then?" Danny asked, finally breaking into the conversation. His parents turned to look at him in surprise; they had forgotten he was even there. It happened more than Danny would've preferred—they often got caught up in their own ideas and conversations about experiments. "Since you want to talk with him again."

"It didn't go badly," his mom replied. They both sat down across from him. "He wouldn't give out his identity, though." Danny willed his face to not look sardonic. Or angry. Or annoyed. I'm having a normal conversation with my parents that isn't about my alter-ego.

"Were you expecting him to?" He finished the last bite of his sandwich. His mom had a far away look in her eye.

"No, I wasn't. But it's terrible, Danny—not knowing. He's a scientific anomaly, the likes of which we may never see again. And he's been hiding. What if he'd gone his whole life without telling anyone?"

Anger swept through him—and bitterness, too. Would they ever see him as an actual person? They were always so convinced he'd done something wrong—as an evil ghost or human criminal. And now, what, he was supposed to be an "anomaly"? Like some kind of fancy cave rock or space phenomena?

"So you think he should've told the entire city he was half-human? For science?" I won't sound incredulous. I won't. Was this all about having answers to her? Not about the Empress or how the city had treated him or how she had treated him. No—she just wanted to know about his ghost biology. Maybe even experiment on him. The thought made him shiver. He'd thought with his revelation as a human that they'd have gotten past this. It seemed his expectations had been too high.

"No, but he should've revealed his identity to us—we have a right to know," Maddie said. "For his protection." Danny's hand twitched; he resisted the urge to clench it into a fist. I am calm. She wasn't wrong, after all. They did have a right to know, but not for the reasons she thought—whatever those were. They had a right to know because they were his parents, his family, and the people who had built the portal that had turned him half-ghost. Not that they knew any of that.

"Why do you have a right to know?" he asked when he thought he'd be able to control his tone. It sounded okay to his ears—neutral, at least. It gave no hint to the fury within, as torrential as any hurricane. Because how could they? They knew he was a human now. They knew he wasn't a criminal now.

"Because we're the leading experts on ghosts, Dann-o," his dad said. He'd already scarfed down half his bowl. "We don't know what kind of side-effects he could be experiencing because of his mutation. He probably doesn't even know half of what's happened to him—" I'm pretty sure I do, thanks—"and if he won't tell us, how are we meant to help him?" Danny's lips twitched, wanting to twist into an angry frown.

"Help him how?" he pressed, trying not to sound as invested as he really was in the answer.

"Well, we want to cure him of course," his mom said. The half-ghost stared at her. He suddenly felt as though he was falling—the ground one hundred feet below him, buildings blurring around him. The anger morphed to fear—what would they do to him to "cure" him? Would they hurt him? If they found out he was Phantom, would they use their status as his guardians to do whatever they wanted to him? "He's still alive, Danny—there's a chance your classmate could be fixed!"

Falling, falling. Her voice sounded far away. The infinite sky above, the hard earth below. Her words had swept him off the precipice he'd been clinging to. They thought something was wrong with him—his ghost-half was like a disease, a cancer. Something horrific that needed to be dealt with. Cured. A pressure built up behind his eyes.

"Oh." Why did it always end like this? Why did they always find fault in him? What had he done to deserve it?

could be fixed…

"I know!" his dad clapped him on the shoulder. "It's great! Once we gain his trust, we'll be able to get more data. With more data, we can create a cure! Maybe. We think. I mean, for a human to be forced to deal with ghost urges and a ghostly form…" Jack shuddered, as though it was the worst thing imaginable. "Well, we don't want that for anyone, much less a high-schooler."

"Yeah, that's…" Danny felt faint. The world was spinning. Was he really falling? Hadn't he been sitting? He couldn't seem to get enough air. "…Great." They thought he was infected. A fucking freak. They would never love him, not really. And they'd never be able to accept that nothing was wrong with him—that he was fine as he was. They poke him and prod him if they found out. Until there was nothing left, not human or ghost or anything Danny. Just an empty body.

can create a cure…

His limbs were tingly, weightless. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't breathe. His dad was talking again, rambling about their plans for a cure. A cure. They'd never understand that the ghost was a part of him. They'd never accept him—not wholly. Not ever. The questioning had been nothing more than a way to gain his trust, a way to ensure he wasn't a criminal so their cure wouldn't be wasted. He really had gotten his lying from them.

This was just like the interview they'd had with the news. It was just like Valerie's revelation that he truly was half-human. Nothing ever changed their bad opinion of him; their hatred blinded them. Even if they pretended they had changed, they'd only be deceiving themselves, too. They despised ghosts. There was nothing more abhorrent to them. A half-ghost was no different. Not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure there wasno way to cure him. Separating his halves led to severely distorted personalities—and maybe other things, too. He doubted he'd be able to last longer than a week in either form if they weren't together. He was Phantom, after all.

He couldn't breathe.

He imagined his dad, wearing the gauntlets, thrusting his hands inside his son's chest and grasping and pulling until Phantom was out and Danny felt empty and he'd stand there and smile like he'd done something good and say you're fixed now son.

"…get a sample of his blood and ectoplasm, that might enable us to—"

"I'm going upstairs," he heard himself say. His parents were staring, but he didn't care. His legs felt wobbly, but he forced himself up. Everything was muddled, as though he was underwater. He tried not to start panting—oxygen, I need oxygen. He couldn't have a panic attack here. Not in front of his parents. His mom called briefly, and he urged himself forward. The fear fueled him even as it ripped through him, tearing him apart.

Danny barely made it up the stairs. His legs gave out feet from the door of his room, and he slid down the wall to the floor. His chest hurt—not only was his heart trying to bust out of his ribcage, but his core was vibrating uncomfortably, too. He put his hand on his sternum, willing the pain to go away. He still couldn't get enough air. Please… He squeezed his eyes shut. Was he dying?

They'll never love me. They think I'm sick.

The thought wouldn't leave him. It ricocheted from the back of his skull to the front to the sides. He'd been so stupid thinking the questioning had gone well. They barely believed him about the Empress. And they wanted to "help" him—their new mission, apparently. He let out a whimper, not even realizing he had done so. His breathing came in pants, and darkness tinged the edges of his vision.

They can't find me here. They'll know. They'll know and they'll try to fix me and I'll die they'll kill me for real this time I can't I can't I have to move.

Using the wall as a crutch, he stumbled to his room, shutting the door behind him and heaving himself onto his bed. He flopped onto his side. The hurting in his chest had not gotten better; it had grown worse. He clenched his sheets, trying to ride out the pain. His diaphragm moved rapidly.

Something—or rather, someone—poked his head out from underneath Danny's bed. "Ghost child?" Technus asked. Danny groaned; he didn't need to deal with Technus again. "Have you been injured?"

"No," Danny managed to gasp. The ghost drifted closer despite this. Why did they have to hate him so much, even when he'd done everything he could to prove himself? Was it him? Were they right, and something really was wrong with him? The anger in him had dulled to an ache, the bitterness settling in his stomach like nausea.

want to cure him…

"I'm fine." Technus examined him closely, looking for blood or ectoplasm. Finding none, he looked at the half-ghost in confusion.

"I don't understand," he finally said. "What's wrong with you?" The pain was finally subsiding a bit. Danny tried to breathe deeply, but he couldn't seem to get it under control. The fear was still there, crawling all over him and inside him like a parasite.

"Leave me alone," Danny growled. Well, tried to growl. It probably sounded less terrifying and more pathetic. But Technus didn't move, his face twisted like it had been when he'd woken Danny from the nightmare, when he'd admitted to forgetting what living had been like.

It was still so odd. And now was not the time, Danny felt, to try and puzzle it out.

"Are you having an emotional episode?" Technus sounded thoughtful. And worried. Danny at last took an almost-normal, shuddering breath.

"No, Technus. Leave me alone," he repeated. He couldn't—he couldn't handle kindness from a former enemy. He couldn't have someone watching him be weak, not if that someone wasn't Sam or Tucker. He just couldn't.

to be forced to deal with ghost urges and a ghostly form…

The ghost seemed to realize that he was distinctly not what Danny needed. He tried to smile at the teen, but it came out as an odd half-grimace.

"Alright, ghost child. I am here if you need… assistance." And with that he went back under the bed, leaving Danny to deal with his panic and his fear alone.

They'll never love me.

They had in Freakshow's timeline. But then, maybe they hadn't. He hadn't seen the full extent of their reaction there. Perhaps he was always destined to be something other in their eyes, something never completely worthy of the title of human—much less the title of their son. And what a terrible time to have the revelation, with the Empress on her way…

He thought he had understood, long ago, that his human identity was an indefinite secret, one that might last a lifetime. That his parents would never know. His ghost-half, in their eyes, would forever remain something to be captured dissected, no matter what he did. They would never have to make the choice between their hatred of ghosts and their son. He thought he had understood this reality. And when they had said they weren't going to try to hurt him anymore because he was human… When he had proven his innocence to them… That reality had died, and hope had flickered inside him, coaxed to life by his stupid, stupid naïveté.

But now the hope, so warm before, was burning him. It scorched him from the inside out. He hadn't understood. He had thought, somewhere deep done, that they would love him unconditionally even if they found out. Pressure again built behind his eyes. I can't cry. Please, don't cry. They wouldn't love him if they found out. They wouldn't believe that a ghost could be their son. They'd consider him a "scientific anomaly." Something to be fixed. He curled in on himself, trying to hold his emotions within him. They grew hotter and hotter, roasting everything they touched. He trembled.

They'll never love me.

Against his will, the tears began to fall. There had to be something wrong with him, right? For his parents to have treated him like this… Maybe they were right. He needed to be fixed.

could be fixed…

Who had he been kidding? He was something unnatural, caught permanently between life and death. It was wrong. He was wrong. With the terror that his parents would hurt him raised an awful shame. Why had he been such a dumb fourteen-year-old? Why had he gone in the Portal? Why? Why? A sob came, unbidden, from his mouth.

He muffled the rest of his crying into his pillow. He couldn't let his parents hear.


Eventually, the trio figured out that the GIW didn't survey the Mansons or Foleys at night—their surveillance vans left around ten in the evening and didn't return until six in the morning the next day. They apparently weren't suspicious enough of Danny's connection to Sam or Tucker to monitor them all the time, and their mistake left the trio an eight-hour window they were eager to exploit.

On the other hand, the GIW had apparently become more suspicious of Danny, and there were more agents watching his house, now. This, unfortunately, did prevent him from leaving at odd hours of the night—he didn't think he'd be able to sneak out like he had before with twice as many agents keeping their eyes on him.

"Are you in position for the first mainstay?" Danny asked over the Fenton-phones. He was sitting on his bed, multiple diagrams spread out on the covers, along with his laptop, which was open to a map of Amity. He'd printed a similar map out and had marked four locations. He'd locked his door—just in case. "Remember, the hole has to be at least a foot in diameter and three feet deep. We have to cover it entirely."

The mainstays were the anchor points for the shield—four, just as Technus had pointed out. They were large, metal tubes: two-and-half feet long, seven inches in diameter. Danny wondered if his parents would notice them missing—he and his friends had taken the largest ones, ones perhaps meant for the school's shield.

Well, Danny thought, this is more important.

"Yeah, dude." Tucker's panting crackled over the headset. "We know. You've told us, like, at least fifty million times."

Tucker and Sam were northeast of Amity, just past a cluster of apartments, digging a hole about a quarter of a mile from the main highway that cut through the city. Danny imagined it was difficult work: it was cold out, and the ground was probably tough. It certainly sounded like they were working up a sweat—and working up some irritation.

"Well, it kind of has to be perfect. Or the shield won't work," he said. The mainstays for the shield had to be placed at approximately the same length from the center of Amity—where they wanted the apex of the dome to be. They had already visited the spots where they needed them to go (it hadn't been a fun way to spend a Monday afternoon, especially with the GIW tailing them. They'd had to keep going to random places to make their visits seem purposeful. Danny had never been to any of the places they'd gone to, and he couldn't say he wanted to revisit). The angles, too, had to be virtually perfect: twenty-eight degrees between mainstays one and two, 152 between two and three, twenty-eight between three and four, and another 152 between four and one.

"Yeah, we know that, too," Sam said, grunting. "I really wish you were the one doing this. It would go by so much faster."

"I think I'm getting blisters," Tucker observed. The worn-out teenagers were taking turns shoveling, using supplies they'd taken from Sam's garage. Apparently, Sam's mom enjoyed gardening. ("Really," Sam had said, "it's more like she enjoys pretending to have an interesting hobby. She hires a gardener to do everything, though. She doesn't even tell him what to plant, just agrees with what he wants. And then she can show her flowers off at parties and act like she did it all herself. But that's rich people for you, I guess.")

"You're not the only one," Sam said. They'd already been working for forty minutes—it was nearly midnight.

Danny didn't say anything. Really, they probably would've been done with the first mainstay if he'd been there; his powers tended to give him more endurance and strength than a normal human, though they also meant he had to eat more. If he let his mind linger on it, that probably also meant he should sleep more—or at least the recommended amount.

He couldn't help the odd guilt that welled up inside him because he wasn't there, assisting them. That seemed to be all he was capable of feeling lately—guilt. And anger. Maybe exhaustion, too. He knew he hadn't forced them to work, but they'd always done things like this together, where he could help and protect them. He supposed they didn't exactly need protection at the moment, but they could definitely use the help. He felt like he was making them do all the work—never mind that they had volunteered. It was a different dynamic, and one he didn't particularly enjoy; he didn't want to feel as though he were bossing them around from afar. He wanted to be with them.

"Stop it," Sam chided, breaking through his thoughts. He started, crinkling the paper in his hand.

"I wasn't doing anything," he said, smoothing it back and setting it in front of him. Jazz also would've been with them, but they were afraid the GIW outside watching might follow her if she did something as suspicious as sneak out of the house in the dead of night. So instead, she was sitting in her room reading or sleeping or something. Danny, not wanting the distraction, had asked her to house Technus in her room until they were done.

It was exhausting to have the ghost in his presence all the time, especially with his bizarre change in attitude. That, combined with the situation as a whole, gave Danny the feeling as though gravity had reversed whenever he spoke with the ghost. Like he was falling toward the ceiling, the world completely upside-down. His breakdown hadn't helped, either.

He still hadn't told his friends about the breakdown. He couldn't confess to them that his parents had regressed in their thought processes, ready to "cure" Phantom without even consulting the half-ghost. He wasn't sure why, exactly—if it was the bizarre shame that had been lurking in him since the conversation he'd had with his parents. Or something else. He just… couldn't. He had deftly avoided his parents since then, too.

"I know a guilty silence when I hear one," Sam said. "But there's nothing for you to be guilty for. So stop." Danny knew that if he could see her face, it would be both annoyed and concerned—her chin would scrunch minutely, her eyebrows drawn closer together. Her lips would be down-turned, just slightly, little creases appearing in her skin. Like fabric, folded wrong.

He preferred many other expressions to that one.

"I'm not there, helping you," Danny protested. "We could've been halfway done by now if I were."

"That's not your fault," Tucker broke in. "Everything that's happened—none of that's your fault. Not the Empress, not Technus, not Valerie, not the GIW."

Didn't he see, though? It was—at least partially. If he hadn't been so, so stupid, half the things that had happened wouldn't have. If he'd been paying attention, Valerie wouldn't have gotten in that shot. If he hadn't left his backpack in a tree or had acted better, the GIW wouldn't be as suspicious as they were.

"And… another guilty silence," Sam said. Danny ran a hand through his hair, hitting the headset of the Fenton phones.

"No," he denied. "I'm not—I'm not feeling guilty." He was glad they weren't there to see him; they would've spotted the lie easily. He could imagine them now, glancing at each other from across the pit they'd dug, the glow from their head-lamps illuminating their shiny, sweaty skin. Did they believe him? He could see Tucker shaking his head, Sam rolling her eyes—like, Does he think we'll buy this?

"Were you the one who decided to take over the Zone?" Sam demanded.

"Um, no." He could see where this was going.

"Did you maybe trample a teenager's basic human rights and withhold vital information from the public?" she asked, sarcasm evident in her voice.

"Look, Sam, I told you I'm not—"

"Oh, maybe you hurt someone so badly it would've taken them months to recover had they not been half-ghost?" He could still see her in his mind, shovel on the ground, hands on hips, head tilted sardonically to one side. "No?"

Danny sighed, feeling suddenly tired. He didn't know how to respond to this anger—her anger. He rarely did. It wasn't that she was a girl or she was her friend; he knew how to respond to Jazz's anger, and Tucker's. It was that her anger was somehow worse, somehow more volatile, than theirs. Jazz's was a slow simmer until it bubbled over. Tucker's was like a fire, sparks and flame and smoke and then gone. Sam's—Sam's was a nuclear bomb. It went off, and it was over. But it wasn't, not really: it lingered in radiation and ashes.

"Sam's right, Danny," Tucker said. "And if you're not careful, she might hit you when she sees you tomorrow." There was the sound of metal clinking on metal."Okay, I think we're good. But we should probably measure just in case." There were a couple minutes of silence as the two presumably measured the hole's diameter and depth.

Sam probably was right; Danny could understand the logic. But he also could feel what his emotions were whispering to him: your fault, your fault, your fault. Because, technically, it all traced back to Danny being dumb enough to turn on the Portal—if he hadn't done that, there would be no ghosts in the first place. No property damage. No crazy GIW. No Empress taking over the world. No angry Valerie.

He had been dumb, and sometimes he felt like he hadn't gotten any smarter since then. The backpack-tree incident seemed proof of that.

"We're putting the mainstay in the hole," Sam said, letting Danny know what was happening. Her voice was tense—taut like a bowstring.

"Alright," he said. "Is the light turning on?" If all systems appeared to be okay, a green light on the mainstay was meant to turn on. If something was wrong, the light went red.

"Green," Tucker confirmed. If Danny could see him, he imagined his friend would be flashing him a thumbs-up and a grin. Sam didn't speak. The half-ghost wondered if she was merely frustrated with him and with the work she had to do or truly furious that he was accepting responsibility for things she thought weren't his fault.

"Assuming the others take this long, we'll be out until four, probably. That'll give us maybe three hours of sleep," Sam estimated, breaking the quiet. Tucker let out a tired breath.

Danny wanted to say something, but he felt oddly guilty about their lack of sleep, too. And he didn't want to enrage Sam further, who would probably detect traces of it in his tone without any problem. So he didn't say anything.

"God, I feel like you guys are my divorced parents or something," Tucker said. Something clinked again in the background. "And it's not a good feeling. Just get over it and talk about it later or something."

"I will not get over it!" Sam exclaimed. Danny rubbed the back of his neck—he did kind of feel that this was a conversation they should maybe be having in person. And maybe not in the middle of the night when all three of them were very tired.

"But can you talk about it later?" Tucker pressed. "We kind of have bigger things we need to worry about than your lover's tryst." Danny buried his head in his hands. He was glad Tucker wasn't there to see him blush. He wondered if Sam was blushing.

"Say that again, and the mainstay won't be the only thing going in that hole tonight," Sam hissed. She was probably jabbing her finger at the hole, or maybe her friend's chest. She inhaled and exhaled, the microphone sounding as if it was being buffeted by wind. "Besides, Tucker, I thought you were on my side."

"Er—" Danny could envision the boy fiddling with his glasses or his beret, maybe shrugging his shoulders and holding his arms up in a placating manner. "How am I supposed to side between my parents?"

"This is not a fucking joke—"

"At this rate, the Empress will get here before we do the mainstays, never mind anything else," Danny interrupted. "Tucker's right. Now's not the time—it's late, and I'm not even there. You can ream me or whatever later." It was the tone he sometimes used when they were in the middle of a ghost fight, when one of them tried to argue, but he was the one who came up with most of the in-the-moment battle strategies, the most effective ones. The ones that kept them alive. It was a tone the other two listened to.

"I don't want to ream you." Sam huffed. The fury had mostly left her voice—for now. "Alright. Later. I'm not even sure I'm… I don't think you're the one I'm angry with, Danny." That didn't make sense to him—why was she yelling at him, then? And over feelings he couldn't control, no less? It hurt him a little, her being angry with him when he hadn't done anything. But she wasn't even angry with him, apparently. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"Fine. Don't worry about it, Sam." He paused. "I'm sure it'll all come out at the custody hearing, anyway." Danny could hear the grin on Tucker's face when the boy let out a startled laugh. It was good to hear a laugh. He felt like there wasn't much to laugh about, these days.

Mostly everything just made him want to scream.


Danny forced himself up, panting, from the floor. He wiped the sweat off his brow—he still sweat, even in ghost form. He wasn't sure why, considering his body temperature was much lower than normal, so theoretically his organs should've been okay a good ten degrees hotter. But maybe they'd acclimated to his lower temperature, too.

He wasn't sure the last time anyone had cleaned the red mats in their pseudo-attic, and they smelled like must and sweat. Not entirely pleasant. He fixed his gaze on the opposite end of the room, and, concentrating—

—He was there, stepping beside the opposite wall. Teleporting, he'd found, was a strange sensation. He'd previously only done it in times of extreme duress, so he hadn't exactly had the time to analyze what it felt like. Now that he could focus on the feeling, he wanted to take every bit of it in. The first thing he noticed was that it wasn't like Harry Potter-type teleporting (he'd read all seven books in the seventh grade when he'd had a lot more free time). In fact, it was the opposite. He almost expandedwhen he teleported. Expanded and separated and moved, and then he was there. Something akin to a solid turning into a liquid turning into a gas. It reminded him a bit of flying or going intangible because he got the same, physics-defying sensation from it.

He took a second to recover his breath and then bent down to put two more marks on the clipboard on the floor in front of him. He wanted to see how many times he could teleport in a row before he couldn't anymore. He wasn't sure how accurate of a gauge it would be for fights; if he were to try and teleport then, chances were it would be farther than the distance across the attic. But, well, he supposed it was like endurance training.

Or something.

As Danny tensed, preparing to teleport across the room again, he couldn't help but hear a voice in his head—a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam, Tucker, or Jazz—telling him that he was only wearing himself out. You need to be in tip-top shape for when the Empress does come. And that includes sleeping, the voice scolded. He scowled at the air in front of him and forced himself, instantaneously, across the room.

He fell to his hands and knees with a thud. He didn't have to worry about the noise escaping, however; the reinforced room kept most sounds in. And Danny had put Technus's odd willingness to help to use again, having him keep watch at the bottom of the stairs. He'd alert Danny if anyone woke up, so he could turn back human.

He didn't want to imagine what would happen if his parents came across the half-ghost practicing in their attic. There was probably only one conclusion they could come to: their son was Phantom. And it would go down hill from there—experiments, "cures," arguments, hurt, anger, sorrow. The fragile relationship his parents currently had with their son would shatter completely.

Danny hadn't told them when he'd first been exposed as half-human because he hadn't wanted to be the exception; he wanted them to know Phantom was just as worthy as Fenton. Now he worried about his safety. The fear he thought he'd left behind when they'd found out Phantom was half-human had returned. Vivisection was off the table, but who knew how far his parents would push in the name of "fixing" him? Days had passed since the questioning—and the terrible, revealing conversation afterward. Danny hadn't been able to sleep after that.

This was his grand solution: wear himself out until he was ready to faint from exhaustion, then sleep. It seemed to be working so far—except it didn't exactly stop the bad dreams. He averaged maybe four hours a night, but he knew from experience that was more than enough to keep him going.

Danny heaved himself upward. His arms and legs were trembling from exertion, though technically he hadn't even really used them. His stomach ached; he'd need to eat before he went to bed. He stumbled a little and used one of the boxes up against the wall for balance.

"Come on, Phantom," he coaxed himself. "Just a couple more times." He wanted to at least get to the number he'd gotten to the previous night. Or perhaps one more. His eyes were having issues focusing, but he narrowed them at the far end of the room. He knew he wasn't out yet. Go there, he thought, urging himself. Go there, go there—

—And there he was. He grunted. It was hard to grasp the marker to record the two additional teleportations, but he managed. Then, the half-ghost sat down, using the back of his hand to try and keep the sweat from his eyes.

Maybe a small break.

He eased himself against the wall, closing his eyes. It felt nice to just sit there, knowing no one was watching or expecting him to do anything. The GIW were outside, sure. And his parents would flip if they found him there. But for now it was just him.

Just him.

He wished he knew more. More about how his parents would react if they discovered him. More about the Empress. He wished he could speak to Valdez again, so he could warn her about the incoming ghost invasion. The officer had seemed to take him seriously, unlike two other adults he could mention (if he were honest, the number was probably much higher). He'd spoken about it with Sam and Tucker, and they had agreed.

It was simply a matter of when and how.

"At least we know why Vlad hasn't stuck his stupid nose into my business," Danny said aloud to the empty room, opening his eyes. "Sort of." He was trying to look on the bright side. The mayor was "missing"—whatever that meant. Danny and his friends knew he had to have something to do with what was happening; it was too much of a coincidence for him to go missing at this exact moment.

Danny stood, feeling more rested. Alright, he thought. Let's do this.


AN: That first section was not meant to be so angsty. I can't believe that Danny's separated Fenton and Phantom halves would've been able to survive on their own—something vital definitely goes bye-bye when they're not together. I know Vlad lived without his ghost half in the alternate time line, but shh. We'll just say he figured out some way to sustain himself but was still very deteriorated because he was separated. I also hate how the show had Danny "reverse" his half-ghost status or whatever in PP. I know mainstay refers to the thingies on a ship, but they can also just be another word for "pillar," or "support beam" type thing.

Thank you so much for the response! I adore each and every one of you. Questions: How are y'all feeling about Danny's parents? Sam and Tucker? Did anything feel redundant (keep in mind I do repeat some lines for effect)? Did you guys think the whole "guilt" thing was over-the-top? Did Danny's emotions make sense? Overwhelming guilt/shame can be a sign of poor mental health (and a number of disorders, including depression and PTSD) and Danny's not doing so good (he's a poor stressed boi). Please stay safe out there with the pandemic and all. The next chapter should be out sooner rather than later—please check my profile if you want specifics.