Chapter Twenty-Six: An Expansion
Excerpt from An Overview of the Merge, by Jane Graham, 2038:
…The physics of the Ghost Zone are very different from the physics of our dimension. In some ways, they are entirely incompatible. By combining them, Idolum set off chain reactions that we are just now truly beginning to understand. For example, the way water behaved during this period is still something of a mystery, though many theories have been posited.
One of these theories is that Earth's gravity was somehow lessened because of the Merge. However, due to the lack of…
"Did you hit your head or something? What the hell are you talking about?" El asked, crossing her arms and hovering mid-air. She raised her chin defiantly. And Valerie had to give it to her; if she hadn't been totally convinced, she might've believed the act.
"I'm not stupid," Valerie said. "It fits—actually, it explains a lot. His weird behavior, why you're going to Fenton Works... Everything." It was bizarre, how many of the puzzle pieces slotted into place, how much was explained. She really had been an idiot; it was so clear, now.
"Yeah, believe whatever crazy theory you want," El said, flying forward. She was trying to play it off, pretend everything was fine. "I don't care. But shouldn't you go home? Your dad's probably worried." Probably. But he would just have to wait a while—Valerie knew he would understand. This was important.
"I'm not falling for a ploy that obvious. I'm coming with you," Valerie decided.
"No, you're not because that's not why I'm going to Fenton Works. Whoever this—this 'Danny' is, he's not Phantom," El insisted. She'd stopped flying again, and Valerie could see an odd sort of desperation in her eyes, needing the Huntress to drop this, to believe her.
But Valerie knew she was right, and she wouldn't drop it. "You're not a good a liar as you think you are. He's my friend, Dani—El. I'm not going to… do anything, if that's what you're worried about." And it was true; she had made peace with Phantom, and she had never disliked Danny. Neither were in any danger from her, but she wanted to see them—him. She wanted to… get answers. Apologize, maybe. She had wanted to ask him more questions on the roof-top, after all, before he'd ran off. And those questions had only grown in number, sprouting within her like weeds that were just asking for herbicide.
"Your friend, huh?" El put her hands on her hips. She had dropped all pretenses. "And when was the last time you spoke to him?"
"Well, I—" When was the last time she'd spoken to him? She had to have said hello, had a passing conversation in the halls… But she couldn't think of a single, recent incident. So that left… "Two weeks ago," she admitted. "But I swear I just want to talk."
"You're not coming with me," El insisted. "He'll just get panicked—let me talk to him first; you don't even know if he wants to see you. And with everything else happening right now, he probably doesn't need the stress."
Right. The worlds merging. He probably already knows about that. Phantom was always in the thick of things. For the first time, the thought didn't make Valerie pleased; Danny, the sweet, innocent boy she'd liked, didn't deserve to be in the thick of things. Phantom and Fenton were still separate in her mind. She wondered how could they be the same, even though she knew they were. She needed to talk with him.
"How did you figure it out, anyway?" El asked. "You didn't know before now, I'm sure of it."
"It just… made sense, suddenly." Valerie answered. She decided to try a new tactic. "What if you need help? What if the Fentons try to hurt you?"
"They won't. And Jazz will be there, too. Really, Valerie, it's better if you go home. Okay?" So Jazz knows, then. El's green eyes—which looked so much like Phantom's—were wide and earnest.
Valerie shook her head. "I'll just follow you. You might as well take me along willingly." El pursed her lips, muttering something about "stubborn" and "ridiculous."
But she gave in regardless of her feelings. "Fine. But you're not going to jump him, alright?" Valerie was almost offended—she wasn't going to do anything to him. But you shot him, even after you knew he wasn't a criminal. You shot him even after you knew he was human. Her actions were shameful now, almost painful. Had she really been so blind? But she knew the answer—yes, she had been.
"Okay," Valerie agreed.
They flew together to Fenton Works, touching down just a few buildings away. El changed forms, the bright white rings washing over her. Valerie imagined those same rings washing over Phantom, transforming him into Danny. The image didn't work in her mind, fizzling out. She knew, logically, that Danny was Phantom, but the idea still didn't fit.
As they approached the house, Valerie could hear yelling inside.
"—no right to tell him what he has to do! You have no right, and I wouldn't be surprised if he never wants to see you again, after what you did!" That was Jazz, Danny's older sister. She sounded angrier than Valerie had ever heard her. Furious, even. Valerie had always seen the girl as calm and collected, so to hear her sound so out of control…
"What we did? We're trying to help him! He's diseased, Jasmine—it's not 'who he is'! It's a sickness! It's not natural, for someone to be both human and ghost at the same time. He is ill, and you're stopping him from receiving treatment! We are his parents—not you!" Mrs. Fenton. Valerie went cold, and she shared a wide-eyed look with El, who seemed alarmed. They were talking about Danny—they had to be.
"Just tell us where he is, Jazz." Mr. Fenton. He seemed marginally more in control than Jazz or Mrs. Fenton, but his voice was still loud. Valerie and El hovered just outside the door. Do we knock? Or wait? But it didn't seem like they were going to be stopping anytime soon. "We have to go get him! He could be dying, for all we know."
"He's not." Jazz's tone was derisive, mocking. Valerie had never heard that tone before. "Which you would know if you had bothered to actually ask him instead of deciding, like always, that you know everything WITHOUT ALL THE EVIDENCE!What kind of scientists are you! You hunted him like he was an animal, and instead of supporting him and SAYING YOU'RE FUCKING SORRY, YOU GO AND TELL HIM HE'S DISEASED! HE HAS ENOUGH FUCKING PROBLEMS WITHOUT YOU THERE MAKING THEM WORSE!"Valerie had never heard Jazz cuss before. And at her parents, too. She winced.
"You are not allowed to talk to us like that; we are your parents—" Mrs. Fenton sounded pissed, not that Valerie blamed her. Danny's parents must've found out then. Recently, the same as her.
"I'm a legal adult, and I'll DO WHAT I LIKE! Not that you were ever even there to parent me—I'm eighteen, now—"
"Jazz, that's enough." Mr. Fenton's voice was cold. "Please. Maddie, come on. I'm sure he's at Sam's or Tucker's house—we'll check there first—"
"You're not leaving! You won't listen to him—you won't listen to me—you don't give a damn about any sort of evidence—that much is clear! I won't let you hurt him anymore!" Jazz sounded close to hysterical. El looked pale and upset, and Valerie put one gauntleted hand on her shoulder. She had thought the Fentons would be asleep or still out rounding up ghosts, though with little to no ghosts left, she supposed the didn't need to. She worried, briefly, about revealing her identity, but she supposed if Danny knew, then Jazz probably knew… They'd kept it a secret. And the Fentons liked the Huntress.
"We're not going to hurt him; we're going to take him to a hospital and cure him—"
"Not going to hurt him? Did you even see the look on his face when you said he was sick? YOU ALREADY HURT HIM! And haven't you been listening? We have bigger problems—like the Zone and Earth being merged, for one—"
"We already told you that's not possible, Jazz. The Empress was lying—"
"The Empress? What about the FUCKING EARTHQUAKE? Why are the two of you so blind? God, I can't stand it—Danny doesn't deserve this!" Valerie felt like she was intruding. This was an intimate family argument, definitely not meant for her ears. Or El's, probably. Though, they were cousins… Except she'd thought Danny didn't have any cousins—just a lone aunt in Arkansas.
Danny's parents thought he was diseased… Valerie had never thought of it that way before, though she supposed they had a point, even though it sounded like they'd gone about it the wrong way. To be half-ghost, forced to be human and at the same time something as vile and violent as a ghost… But Jazz was right in pointing out they had bigger things to worry about. Danny had survived being half-ghost for two years; Valerie was certain he'd be okay for at least a few more days.
A cure, though… She looked down at Dani—El. Was it possible to free her from her ghost half? Make her normal again, reverse whatever had happened to make her half-ghost?
"Maybe we should go," Valerie said quietly. "I don't think we should be listening to this."
"If they weren't his parents, I'd pound them," El said, her hands clenching. She looked serious, but... She wouldn't really hurt a human, would she? And they were her aunt and uncle—supposedly. Valerie had never thought about it before, but El was… rather violent. Was it an influence from her ghost half?
"—blast the GAV to pieces before I let you have another chance to hurt him!" Jazz was saying. "Why don't you just go to the lab like you always do and invent some NEW WAY TO KILL HIM? Some new way to TORTURE HIM? OH, I'M SORRY, I FORGOT—HE'S A GHOST, SO HE CAN'T DIE, RIGHT? HE CAN'T EVEN FEEL PAIN, RIGHT?" Valerie flinched, though the words weren't directed at her. She had thought that about Phantom—about Danny.
"I really think we should go," Valerie said. She felt dirty, just standing there and listening. It wasn't any of her business, really. And it sounded like Danny wasn't even at Fenton Works.
"No," El said, straightening her shoulders. "I want to talk to Jazz—figure out what happened—"
"Is it any of your business?" Valerie asked. El leveled a glare at her.
"Like following me was your business? I'm knocking." And without further ado, she raised her fist and gave the door three sharp raps.
The house fell silent. Valerie heard footsteps before the door opened to reveal a red-eyed Jazz. Her hair was mussed, and there were scrapes and bruises visible on her face. She fought, too? It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was.
"Dani?" she asked, landing on the blue-eyed, black-haired girl. "How did you get here? I thought you were in the—" Her eyes landed on Valerie, still in her Red Huntress suit, and her jaw shut audibly. "V—Huntress." Her tone had turned cool, not that Valerie blamed her. She had shot her brother, after all…
"Who is it, Jazz?" Mrs. Fenton called from inside the house. Jazz scowled darkly, the expression alien on her normally cheerful face.
"No one of your concern!" she called back, stepping outside and shutting the door behind her. She was shoeless, Valerie noticed. Jazz regarded her coolly. "Why are you here? Did some of your equipment break again?"
"It's okay, Jazz—she knows," El broke in. "I came just after the Zone and the earth merged. I'm sorry I was late."
"What do you mean 'she knows'? And she's just fine with it?" Jazz demanded, looking back and forth between El and Valerie.
"I know Danny is Phantom," Valerie said. "And I am 'fine' with it." Well, more fine than her parents, anyway.
"She just figured it out," El said, looking down. "She saw me coming here, and it clicked into place. I'm sorry."
Jazz sighed, rubbing her arms; it was cold outside. "It's okay. But you're sure she's safe?" she asked, looking directly into El's eyes. Irritation flared in Valerie's gut.
"She is right here. And I only wanted to talk to him," Valerie said, crossing her arms. So she had made some mistakes—while she could understand a cold attitude, there was no reason to be outright rude.
"Jazz, what happened?" El stepped closer. "We heard some of the argument. Did they—are they really…"
Tears welled in Jazz's eyes, and she looked down, wiping them away. Her breath hitched. "They—they think he's sick, that he needs to be cured. I think they told him before—he was acting so strange, avoiding them more than usual. I think he knew—knew they'd never be able to—to—" She sobbed, and El hugged her, patting her back.
Valerie stood there awkwardly. She felt bad for Jazz, and Danny, but the Fentons… They kind of had a point. It wasn't natural for someone to be both human and ghost. She would never say it so—so harshly, though. And it wasn't like it was Danny's—or El's—fault. The "condition" or whatever might not even be reversible. How could something un-die, after all?
"What happened?" El pressed gently. "Is Danny okay? They didn't hurt him, or—" Jazz was shaking her head into El's shoulder, pulling back and taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"No, they didn't hurt him. Not physically, at least. They found out during the invasion—Danny had to cross the shield." Jazz seemed to have forgotten Valerie was there, not that Valerie minded. She didn't want to be accused again. "And he was hurt badly, Dani. So bad, we thought… But he made it, and we brought him here, and then they came, and—and he looked so hopeful." She sniffled, wiping her eyes again. "I distracted them while Sam and Tucker got him out."
"He's okay, though?" El asked. Jazz nodded.
"He's fine." She smiled wanly. "Or as fine as he can be, anyway. We still have to figure out this whole 'worlds merging' thing. Honestly I just want to go to sleep." Her voice sounded hoarse—how long had she been arguing?
"Should we be worried about your parents driving off?" El asked, but Jazz shook her head.
"I took both pairs of keys and hid them," she said. "They haven't figured out they're missing yet." They stood in silence for a moment.
"Where did Sam and Tucker take Danny?" Valerie said. Talking to him now no longer felt appropriate, but maybe in the morning… Jazz startled—she really had forgotten about Valerie.
"You're not talking to him," Jazz told her firmly. "Not for a while, anyway. At least a week, probably. We'll tell him you wanted to."
"Look, I'm not going to hurt him," Valerie said. "I promise, okay? I won't try anything—"
"The last thing Danny needs is to see another person he doesn't trust," Jazz all but growled. "Especially someone who shot him and revealed that he had a secret identity to the whole city."
"What?" El cried, looking at Valerie, who felt as though she'd been doused in ice. She had done those things, hadn't she? She had hurt Danny… Did she deserve to talk with him? If I'm ever going to make up for those things, I'll have to. It would be a difficult, drawn-out conversation, but Valerie needed to make it right.
"I don't know how much information got to you, in the Zone," Jazz said grimly, eyes still trained on Valerie. The Huntress swallowed. How would El take what she'd done? Not well, she thought. Not well. "But Technus broadcasted to Amity that Phantom was half-human, and he made up some reward for the person to expose him. Only no one really knew what they were even looking for, until Valerie shot him and exposed the fact that he had a living, breathing human form!"
Valerie pressed her lips together. What could she say to defend herself? She'd needed the reward money—needed it for her and her dad, for a better life. And she'd thought Phantom was a criminal. But now those justifications seemed flimsy, like using a cardboard box for shelter during a hurricane.
"Tell me you didn't do that, Valerie," Dani—El—said, eyes pleading. "Tell me you didn't do that. You knew he was human, and you shot him anyway?" Valerie remembered how weak Phantom had looked, trapped in the net between all the ghost hunters. How hurt. The burn on his chest—the burn she'd given him.
She felt sick.
"I…" There was nothing she could say to make it better. The truth was, she had shot Phantom, knowing he was human. There was no excuse, no recourse. Perhaps Danny's own forgiveness could absolve her, but… Valerie couldn't go asking now, not when he was—by the sound of it—very hurt.
"And you wanted to talk?" El demanded. Her blue eyes—the exact same shade as Danny's, Valerie noticed—were brimming with hurt and anger. Wild, like a blizzard. "Get out of here, Valerie."
"Please, I didn't—"
"GET OUT OF HERE! I—I can't believe you!"
"I'm sor—"
"FLY HOME!" El bellowed, charging forward to make her do just that.
Valerie flew off on her board before El could reach her, the terrible, guilty nausea still churning low in her gut.
Danny's eyes throbbed. It was a bizarre, terrible sensation. It wasn't a headache, not a traditional one; the pain didn't come from within his skull. Instead, his very eyeballs seemed to pulse. He kept them covered with his arms, though his fingertips seemed to hurt, too. As did his nose. Not the tip of it—the ache went deeper than that, radiating from almost behind it. And his ears hurt. The feelings were so strange Danny had been afraid something was very, very wrong with him, but Sam and Tucker assured him the ghost—Allistor—had told them he might experience odd, phantom pains. Ha. Phantom pains.
Jazz had used the Fenton phones to contact them the afternoon after… everything. Their normal phones didn't get signal any more, and it would only be a matter of time before Sam and Tucker's went dead. Her voice had been full of tears as she'd told them that Danny's parents weren't any closer to accepting him. She'd told them that Dani had shown up—though apparently she went by El now—with Valerie of all people.
The Huntress had figured it out. The thought filled Danny with dread, deep and coiling, wrapping around him like the body of a snake. She had accepted a truce with Phantom, but would she end up like—like his parents had? Would she reject him? He kept waiting for her to show up, though his friends assured him that if she did, they'd drive her off.
His failure itched in the back of his mind, along with his parents' rejections. If he focused on it, he knew he'd crumble again, and his friends seemed to know it, too. Neither brought up his breakdown, and neither spoke of his parents, either. It was as irritating as it was relieving. Staying here at Tucker's house (he'd moved to the guest bedroom, giving Tucker back his bed), it felt like Danny was in limbo. He slept, only waking to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom.
He had no plan to stop the Empress; he didn't yet know what she had really done to the world. He didn't know how she'd done it, either. He didn't know how to reverse it. He didn't… He didn't know anything, it felt like. And all he could do was lie there.
Tucker's parents treated Danny with an awkwardness born of ignorance, the tentativeness of interacting with a stranger. They had agreed to let Danny stay longer; Danny was pretty sure Tucker had told them what had happened (exactly) at his house. They looked at him with pity, sometimes, though Danny supposed he would probably be pathetic anyway, besides how his parents treated him.
Sam went home a few times, though she always came back, looking angrier and in a worse mood. Danny didn't ask how the conversations with her parents had gone; the answer was written in the angles of her face: the tightness of her jaw, her eyebrows.
And so days passed like this—close to a week of lying uselessly in bed, doing nothing, being tip-toed around, an intermittent pain in his core. He wanted to see El, but Jazz had apparently told the girl that Danny was still recovering and not really up for visitors. Which was true, but he still wanted to see her.
The only break in the monotony came when Tucker's parents decided they wanted to speak with him—privately. For once, he was awake; Tucker was asleep, probably tired after feeding him all night (and he felt bad about taking so much of the Foleys' food, especially given they had no idea about the state of the world outside), and Sam was away at her house.
Someone knocked on the guest-room door.
"Um, come in," Danny said. Neither of his friends really knocked, though he supposed they should, given the chance that they might walk in on him doing something embarrassing.
The door opened to reveal Mr. and Mrs. Foley. They were dressed more casually than he was used to, as neither of them currently had to go to work. It seemed as though the rest of Amity was also in limbo.
"Good morning, Daniel," Mr. Foley said. Danny could count on one hand the times Mr. Foley had called him "Daniel." He and Tucker had known each other for what felt like forever, and there had never really been a time when he'd gone by his full name.
"Good morning," he responded. He felt awkward, lying there, half-naked, knowing it was their son taking care of him. How much more awkward was it for them? "Did you—er—need something?"
"Yes, actually. We know you're… unwell, but we wanted to have a discussion with you," Mrs. Foley said. A discussion. That didn't sound… great. But at least they hadn't outright told him he had overstayed his welcome. Were they planning on finally kicking him out?
"Okay," Danny said. Really, they had been very kind, letting him stay as long as he had. It had been five days already—especially with everything outside being what it was. His mind whirled, trying to figure out where he'd be able to stay next. Not his house; while Jazz reported that his parents had decided that perhaps taking him to a hospital hadn't been their best plan, they still apparently had every intention of curing him.
No. He definitely couldn't go to his house.
"Did you ever think about—telling anyone, these past two years?" Mr. Foley asked. They stood by the wall; they weren't close enough to sit on his bed, and they clearly didn't want to loom over him. And he wasn't exactly well enough to stand or move anywhere. His muscles were wobbly and weak, and he had pains everywhere, almost like he'd aged a five decades instead of five days.
"I…" Yes. But every time he had, his parents or the GIW or Valerie or Vlad would do something, and he figured it had better stay between him, Sam, Jazz, and Tucker. It was better that way. "I did." He had never truly considered telling the Foleys, however; that had always been Tucker's choice. All three of them had ultimately decided to keep quiet. The other two might have followed his lead, but they had made their choices in originally not telling anyone, the two weeks he was bedridden because of the accident.
"How close have you three come to hurting yourselves? In the fights? We've seen video footage, Danny, and it doesn't look pretty," Mr. Foley said. "And please, don't down play it. We need to know—Tucker hasn't exactly been forthcoming with his answers, despite our best efforts."
And you think I'll be more forthcoming? Was it his place—to reveal Tucker's secret life to his parents? Technically, it was Danny's secret life, too, but he didn't exactly feel comfortable revealing Tucker's part to them. At least they hadn't brought up him leaving—yet. Were they going to kick him out after he told him how much danger he'd put Tucker in? How much danger he'd put their son in?
But they did have a right to know, he supposed. Could he tell them, though? Would they end his and Tucker's friendship because of what he revealed?
"I tried keep them away from the really dangerous stuff," he said. He could hear Tucker's snores faintly through the door. The dim light from the window hurt his eyes. "But I think we've all been hurt, at some point or another." He looked into their eyes, but he couldn't read them. Were they disappointed he'd dragged Tucker into this hazardous lifestyle?
"How badly?" Mrs. Foley asked, her mouth set in a grim line.
Danny remembered a burn Tucker had received once—a horrible burn on his side. It had taken months to heal, though for Danny it would've been days, perhaps a week. Danny recalled being so worried, so anxious, wishing it had been him hurt, and not his fragile, fully-human friend. "Badly," Danny said. "But—we did get better." It was the worst injury Tucker had gotten, three months into their ghost-hunting ventures. "We got hurt less." Though his current state exemplified that the statement was a generalization and not genuine fact.
"Why didn't you leave it to your parents? Or the Huntress?" Mr. Foley asked, scratching at his mustache. "Why did you insist on doing it yourselves?"
Danny had only told Sam and Tucker the way his core thrummed when he was fighting, the mantra that played in his head. His Obsession was too personal, too intimate, to share with Tucker's parents. But the fact that they were asking at all, instead of simply presuming, like his parents had… They were at least taking the time to figure everything out before kicking him out.
"I don't know how much you know about the number of ghosts that regularly come into Amity," Danny said, "but the number is a lot higher than the official report. My parents, the Huntress… They're good, but they're only human. There's no way they'd be able to handle the load."
"And you believe you can?" Mrs. Foley asked. "I'm not trying to devalue what you and Sam and Tucker did, but you're only kids. That's a… lot of responsibility. And a lot of danger." It was odd to have adults who seemed to be taking him seriously, who seemed to be listening to him. He had almost forgotten what it was like, after two years stuck in a house with people who could never just respectfully acknowledge his opinion. That almost sounds too bitter.
"If we hadn't done what we did, Pariah's invasion—and Overgrowth's, and Ember's, and tons of other ghosts'—would've succeeded. My parents didn't stop them. And the Huntress…" Valerie's secret wasn't his to tell, though the worry that she might tell someone his lingered, a lead weight in his stomach. "Well, she's not exactly an adult, either."
Mr. Foley raised an eyebrow. "You know her identity?"
"Yes." Danny nodded. "All I can tell you is that she's not as old as most people assume she is."
"Just how many secret ghost hunters are under the age of eighteen?" Mrs. Foley asked, sounding oddly tired. The corners of her mouth pulled down to the floor. "Is your whole class fighting ghosts in their spare time?"
"Only four, I think, since Jazz is over eighteen now," Danny said, smiling slightly. In his daydreams, the Foleys had always been replaced with his parents, asking patient questions, concerned over his safety. Only in his nightmares had they acted as they had in reality: taking control, demanding he go to a hospital, vowing to fix him. He pushed the memory forcefully from his mind.
"Jazz knew?" Mr. Foley clarified. "How many others knew?"
"Jazz, me, Tucker, Sam…" El and Vlad. And the ghosts. But should he reveal them? The Foleys were looking at him so earnestly, genuine curiosity in their eyes. They actually… seemed to care. But no—revealing the whole Vlad situation, especially since he was missing, and Danny suspected… something—it didn't sit right. "Mikey, Abigail, and Nathan found out toward the end. So did Mr. Lancer." Tucker had told him that, but he'd reassured Danny that the teacher hadn't seemed inclined to give him up. "Apparently the Huntress found out, a few days ago. And, well, most of the ghosts know."
"The ghosts knew?" Mrs. Foley frowned, confusion marring her face. "But why didn't they expose you? You're enemies with most of them, aren't you?"
"And how did they find out?" Mr. Foley added.
Hadn't they asked Tucker these questions? But maybe Tucker had told them it wasn't his place to say, not without Danny's consent. And with Danny slipping in and out of sleep… The Foleys had probably been waiting days for an opportunity to speak with him. He wondered how many times they'd tried only to find him asleep.
But still, he thought they deserved to know. For letting him stay here, for Tucker's involvement in the whole affair…
"Ghosts…" How to word this? "They aren't like humans. Most of them—we're not serious enemies. A lot of them think coming here, messing around… It's a game. And they'd be sore losers if they exposed me—it's, uh, bad etiquette, maybe. They sort of… respect me, I guess. And they can always tell I'm half-human, half-ghost." He grimaced. "The sensitive ones can feel my core when I'm in my human form, sense my signature."
"A core?" Mr. Foley asked. His eyes held the same light Tucker's did when he was solving some kind of problem and was on the brink of finding an answer. And he was a journalist—he probably enjoyed finding the truth of things. For a brief moment, Danny wondered nervously if he'd go and publish the information. But that was a stupid thought.
"Yes. It's like a... ghost heart. It's the thing that emits an ectoplasmic signature," Danny explained. Neither looked repulsed by the idea, as he knew his parents would've been. So eager to remove his core, to rip the ghost part of him out… His heart sped up at the thought.
"So you really are like a hybrid, then? Not just a human with ghost powers?" Mrs. Foley said. Then her eyes widened. "Sorry—that sounds—"
Danny laughed, which was maybe a tad rude, but she—she cared. It was so nice. They didn't worship him like Mikey, Nathan, and Abigail had, and they weren't rejecting him like his parents. They cared. And maybe it was just because he was Tucker's friend, but… It was nice. "It's okay, Mrs. Foley. I don't mind. And I am a hybrid." Though the word sounded a little clinical for his tastes. Like something his parents or the GIW might say.
"And the Empress—she really did…" Mr. Foley trailed off. Danny's mood clouded over. Right—the Empress. The merging.
His failure.
"Yes." He couldn't meet their eyes. At least Tucker and Sam and Jazz had lived. He'd been so afraid, when he hadn't been able to reach them on the Fenton phones (they had discovered that his had shorted out, though none of them knew why, exactly. The things were supposed to be nearly indestructible. Perhaps if his parents…). "And I—I know you probably don't like the idea of Tucker fighting, but… I don't think I can do this without him."
"Do what without him?" Mrs. Foley asked. "You don't have to do anything, Danny."
"Yes, I do. I have to—to—" He almost said fix my mistake, but they would insist it wasn't his fault when it was. It was. "To stop the Empress. Un-merge the worlds, somehow."
"That's not your responsibility," Mr. Foley said immediately. "Not yours—or Tucker's. We don't know the state of everything yet beyond the shield, but the world isn't helpless."
They didn't understand. Ghosts couldn't be stopped by normal weapons—at all. They could simply go intangible. Blades, bullets, bombs—none of that would affect them. And the world had no idea what they were up against. As far as Danny knew, only Amity had experience with ghosts. A single city, semi-prepared, while the rest of the world floundered in the aftermath of a deadly, devastating earthquake.
And… "But it is. I don't think… I'm not sure anyone else can." He didn't want to sound conceited or arrogant, but he still remembered what Technus had said. "The Empress… She set up the whole 'reveal my identity' thing as a distraction. Because she knew I was a threat to her—she knows I can stop her." Well, Aevum had seen it, but Danny didn't want to go into time-travel just yet. That was a lot to take in. And the question of Clockwork… Danny feared the worst for his friend.
"But that doesn't mean you're the only one who can stop her," Mrs. Foley insisted.
I'm the only one Aevum saw—as far as we know, anyway. "I'm not chancing it, Mrs. Foley," Danny said. "I'm sorry. I understand if—if you want me to leave. I know you don't want Tucker—"
"Leave?" Mr. Foley exclaimed. "What do you mean 'leave'?"
Danny's hand twisted in the blankets. "I—I'm the one who dragged Tucker into all this. And you've been really good to me, letting me stay here when…" He couldn't finish it.
"Danny," Mrs. Foley said, "we're not going to make you leave. We're not comfortable with Tucker fighting—or you or Sam, for that matter, but we're not blind. We know what you've done for Amity, and we've… discussed things. We'll let you stay as long as you need to."
"I… Thank you." A lump formed in Danny's throat, and he could feel his core vibrating from the force of his emotion. It seemed more volatile, which he supposed was to be expected. A thin layer of ice began to coat his skin as pressure built behind his eyes. He wiped them, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"Are you okay, Danny?" Mr. Foley asked, coming closer. "What's—what's happening?"
Danny finally got his emotions under control. The weird pain in his eyes and fingertips had spiked, and he exhaled shakily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to… My core is acting weird right now because of the fight. I'm sorry." He didn't really want to go into the whole "RMS" thing. And even just admitting what was wrong, being able to honestly explain… It was freeing. He'd never been able to legitimately tell people why he was acting so strangely.
And now—now he could.
"It's alright, Danny," Mrs. Foley said, smiling at him. Both of them seemed a lot less… uncertain than they'd been originally. A lot less overwhelmed, too. Five days ago, they'd been dropped in the deep end, and they hadn't known how to swim. Now, they were paddling over to the shore. "We should probably let you get your rest."
And I can stay as long as I need to. Danny almost started crying again, but instead he closed his eyes as they left the room.
The next day, Danny woke up to almost an entirely different world. His weird pains were gone, but they had been replaced by even something even weirder.
Danny found that his vision was—off. Everything was too bright, and the colors he saw were deeper, somehow, more vibrant than he was used to. Things that had been entirely black before were suddenly tinted with greens or blues or purples. He saw shades of colors he had never seen before; the objects in the guest room had almost transformed entirely.
That wasn't even mentioning his sense of smell or his hearing. He'd been able to hear faint sounds before, but he could tell where everyone in the house was from their breathing alone, and if he concentrated, he could hear the faint thump-thump of their hearts and the swoosh of their lungs. It was as though he'd been deaf before, deaf and blind. He could smell the laundry detergent strongly on the sheets and the smoke from all the candles, though he knew that none were currently lit.
The sheets felt scratchy and rough, though he knew, logically, that their texture hadn't changed since he'd been here. He had been the one to change. He moved too quickly, faster than what he was used to.
It was all wrong. Was this because of his core? He'd been expecting a new power maybe, or simply an expansion on his old ones. He supposed this could fall into the latter category, but it was so strange. Before, he'd been able to see better in the dark, and maybe hear better than a normal person, but this…
It was overwhelming. He ripped the blankets off of him, unable to stand the sensation, and curled up as tightly as he could, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't want to see the weird colors, how everything had transformed. God, why couldn't it have been a new power? He had been dreading it, but this was somehow worse. He seemed to be changing fundamentally, and all at once. A new power wouldn't have messed with his senses. But maybe this would've happened anyway—only more gradually—had he not triggered a RMS.
He laid like that for a while, shutting the world out and trying not to think about exactly what it meant. Someone approached his room; he could hear their heartbeat, their breathing. They opened the door.
"Hi, Danny, I brought—are you okay? What are you doing?" It was Tucker. His heartbeat was slightly slower than either of his parents' heartbeats. Danny could smell him, the scent of mouthwash and deodorant and—safety. His voice seemed to thunder in Danny's newly sensitive ears.
"Not—not so loud, please," he muttered, unwilling to deafen himself by raising his voice to normal levels.
"Um, didn't quite catch that, dude," Tucker said. The fabric of his pants and shirt swished together as he moved closer. "Er—something happened, didn't it?"
"You could say that," Danny said, cracking one eyelid. Tucker looked mostly the same, though his skin and clothes and eyes and hair looked far more vibrant than they had the day before. Danny could clearly see the pores in his skin. He was carrying food—some kind of sweet cereal, from the smell of it. "I think I figured out what my core expanding means."
Tucker set down the tray. "You didn't break anything, did you? My parents were already freaked out by the ice thing yesterday—"
"No, I didn't break anything." Danny sat up, still moving oddly fast. Had he been changed at every level? Was he more ghost now than he had been because of it? "Could you keep it down?"
"I guess," Tucker said, lowering his voice. It didn't seem low enough, though Danny knew it was just barely above a whisper. "Did you get super hearing or something?"
"And super eyesight, and super smell, and super sensation," Danny listed off, groaning. He'd have to get used to all this—and now, of all times. Defeat the Empress, un-merge the worlds, figure out his parents, make sure Valerie wasn't about to expose him further, save everyone, and now learn to control his enhanced senses… His list of things he had to do was growing exponentially. "Nothing is right. It all feels… off."
"But this is good, right? You should be almost fully recovered in like a day," Tucker said. "And then we can start coming up with a plan."
A plan… It still seemed hopeless. Everything, in fact, seemed hopeless in the face of Danny's failure, but he couldn't afford to let it overwhelm him anymore. It weighed on him, restricted him like unseen shackles. He felt it every time he moved or thought, the clinks audible only to his ears. Even in his dreams… He was glad he would be sleeping less.
He had been useless and helpless—and he was still useless and helpless, lying for days in bed—but if he dwelt on it anymore he would fracture and be too broken to help the ones he could. And what he'd told the Foleys was true: he didn't know if anyone else had a chance of defeating the Empress. If the ghosts worked together, perhaps… But the ghosts had spent too long regarding themselves as independent or competing with each other for territory. It was up to Danny to defeat the Empress. Danny and whoever he could get to help him.
He stared at Tucker, taking in the new depths to him. Will his parents let him help? He didn't think they'd have a choice; he knew Tucker would help regardless of what they said. But was it right? Tucker, at least, would regret the damaging effect it would have on his relationship with his parents, unlike Sam or Danny, whose relationships were already so damaged it didn't matter.
Danny wondered if Tucker's parents would rescind their offer of letting him stay when they knew neither him, Tucker, or Sam would back down from fighting.
"Yeah," Danny said. "A plan. Right." He wasn't a scientist—how could he figure out how to un-merge the worlds? He still didn't know exactly what it meant, though apparently Jazz had learned some from talking to El. The sky was greener, now, and the islands from the Zone floated high above the earth's surface. But what else had changed, and how to fix it…
Danny was taken by the urge to do something. He had been sick for days, and it was clear his core was coming out of the RMS. He couldn't stand lying there for another moment; he didn't want to be helpless anymore. He didn't want to be useless—he wanted to pretend, for at least a little while, that he wasn't.
"Let's go see Dora," he said, swinging his legs out of the bed. His head spun with the action as his vision and other senses tried to adjust to the new angle. "And I want to talk to El."
"Okay, hold up." Tucker stepped forward, his hands coming up nervously, as though ready to grab him should he do anything drastic. "Why don't we figure out exactly what's changed with your core, first? And we don't even know where Dora is, much less whether she's… okay."
"She's okay enough to have a signature," Danny said without thinking. He realized it was true—he could sense her signature near the north of the city, close to a different signature. And he could feel Technus's, by the elementary school. He couldn't sense El's—she must've been in human form, or she had left the shield. I'll have to ask Jazz.
He had never had such range or precision before. His ghost sense had grown with time, but he'd never just been able to… pick up on signatures like he was now able to. He hadn't even noticed it before, it was so subtle. He just—searched for the signatures, and they were there. His eyes widened, and he looked at Tucker. "I can sense her from here."
"Really?" Tucker's surprised made his voice louder, and Danny winced. "Sorry—that's crazy." Danny's original range had been small, and he hadn't really been able to differentiate between different signatures. His ghost-sensing ability had grown steadily since then, but this was on an entirely new level. "I still don't think you should go out, though. You're not one-hundred percent yet. And we don't know what other powers were effected."
All good points, but Danny knew he couldn't stay another day in this room, trying desperately not to think of the Empress or Agent R or his parents or Valerie or his failure. He had to do something, or he would break. He had to help. He was well enough to go intangible, maybe help clear some debris. And he really did want to check up on Dora. Her signature was strong, but Danny knew how injured she'd been.
"Tucker, I can't stay here anymore," Danny said, looking his friend in the eye. Tucker's lips pressed into a line; he had watched his friend nearly fall apart at the seams, here in his house. Sam had told Danny Tucker had nearly fallen apart.
Maybe this would help both of them.
"Fine." Tucker sighed. "But we're waiting for Sam. And we're going to do a checklist of your powers—just to make sure."
The glow from Danny's rings as he changed into Phantom was brighter than it normally was, and he nearly ended up blinding himself. But other than that, his ghost form seemed unchanged. His hazmat suit was whole again (something he didn't necessarily like to dwell on, because he knew somehow he was repairing it, and did that make the suit clothes or his skin?).
"How do your injuries feel?" Sam asked, stepping forward to examine him. She smelled like burn ointment and candle smoke. They'd decided to do this in Tucker's room, the door closed. Tucker's parents hadn't batted an eye, though they did check up on them periodically. Danny could hear their heartbeats from within the room.
"Fine." Danny flexed his formerly broken arm, marveling at how painlessly it moved. "My healing factor must've been expanded, too. Usually it would've taken a little longer for such a bad break."
"Mm-hmm." Sam nodded, scribbling something in her notebook. She kept track of all his powers—and other things—to make sure they had a record of what his "normal" was. "And your tooth re-grew."
"Wait, really?" Tucker exclaimed. Danny twitched, but he was making an effort to get used to the new noise input. "That's insane."
"Yeah. I don't exactly want to test what else might re-grow, though," the half-ghost said. He reveled in the feeling of being awake for so long; he didn't feel at all tired.
"I disagree. I think this is the perfect time to chop off your arm and see what happens," Tucker replied, poking said arm. To Danny's newly sensitive nerves, it felt oddly sharp. "Then, if it happens in a fight, we'll know what to expect."
Sam snorted. "A lot of pain and blood, maybe?"
Tucker stroked his chin, nodding thoughtfully. "An excellent hypothesis, Dr. Sam. You should write that down." He pointed to the notebook.
"I don't take orders from you," she muttered.
"What's next?" Danny asked. Now that the idea had taken hold, he wanted to hurry up and do it, though he couldn't deny he was a little curious as to what other changes had happened to his ghost powers.
"The basics. Intangibility, flight, invisibility," Sam said, looking back up at him from the notebook. It was stained with blood and ectoplasm.
Danny hovered up off the ground and went invisible, not feeling anything very different. But when he turned intangible, he turned much of the ground around him intangible, too, which he had never done on accident before. Tucker, who was closest to him, yelped as he sunk into the floor.
Danny caught him before he could sink completely through, grunting as he pulled him up and willed the ground back to tangibility.
"Well," Tucker said, dusting himself off, "that was a terrible experience. It was like a mouth opened up underneath me and tried to eat me. Please never do that again."
"Er, sorry," Danny said. What would've happened if he hadn't reacted in time? "I didn't mean to."
"I know, man," Tucker said. "I guess that's a check for intangibility, Dr. Sam."
"I swear to God, if you don't stop calling me that…" Sam muttered, but she made a mark on the page anyway. "Let's not test your wail. Cloning, shields, ice, and teleportation are left."
"I don't know—I kind of want Danny to blow my house down. Like the big bad wolf," Tucker said.
"First my arm, now this," Danny muttered, but he obligingly refrained from destroying Tucker's house. "I can't tell if you're a sadist or a masochist." It felt good—normal—to be bantering with them. He hadn't really been up for, the past few days, and part of him still didn't up for it. They hadn't exactly been top form either, but… Now that he was capable of spending more than an hour or two awake at a time—and now that he had a goal, even a short-term one—he felt… better.
Not good. He could still feel his failures, chaining him to dread and anxiety and looming, ever-present uncertainty. But this was pleasant. This was normal.
"We can figure out Tucker's kinks later, Danny," Sam said lightly, ignoring Tucker's noise of protest. "Clones?"
Danny willed one more of himself, and this power came easily. So did his shield, though it was brighter and a tad larger than the one he'd meant to conjure. His ice materialized almost instantly from the ground, the time taken to grow it far less than it would've been before his RMS.
"All that's left is teleportation," Sam said. "Though with how it's all been going, I'm kind of worried you'll teleport into a wall or something on accident."
"It hasn't been that bad," Danny said. And it hadn't—in fact, although he was still overwhelmed by his new senses, he'd been wrong in his assessment that it had been worse than a new power. Maybe this meant he wasn't going to get any more new powers—just expansions of old ones. "I'm just not used to the power level."
"What is that meme? Nine-thousand power or something?" Tucker said. "I can't remember."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Teleport, would you? I can't listen to any more of this nonsense."
"Too plebian for your higher tastes, Dr. Sam?" Tucker asked. "Do you even know what a 'meme' is?"
"Are we telling your parents?" Danny said seriously, facing Tucker. It ruined the mood instantly, the reminder that this wasn't like old times—their parents knew, the worlds were merged, everything was backwards. They were standing in the sky, looking up at a world where people hung upside down from the ground. "About where we're going?"
"Do you think they'd let me?" Tucker said, rubbing his forehead. The smile was gone from his face, and though Danny felt bad about being the one to make it leave, they had to discuss this. "They haven't been exactly warm to the idea of me fighting anymore. They basically told me I'm under house arrest, and I don't think they'd lift it just for me to see some ghost."
"I know the feeling. Mine keep threatening to lock me up," Sam muttered. Danny didn't say anything about his—both had seen his parents' responses. They'd all known this would be part of the deal if they told their parents. The restriction on their freedom was to be expected. And Danny felt they would've abided by it—even Sam—had something bigger not been at stake.
They had never expected the end of the world to come with the reveal of their secret lives, after all.
"So we have three options then," Danny said, holding up three fingers. "We don't tell them and leave. We tell them and go anyway. We tell them and do what they say." He lowered one finger with each option, until all that was left was a fist.
Tucker frowned. "You're not leaving me behind," he said.
"So we go, then—but do we tell them or not?" Danny asked.
"You're forgetting the fourth option: we tell them, and they let Tucker go anyway," Sam said. "Your parents are a lot more understanding of this whole thing than Danny's or mine have been."
Tucker shook his head, crossing his arms. "That's true, but they won't let me. I think they've come to terms with what I've done—or helped do—but they won't let me continue. They've told me they'll 'think about it'—which is definitely a no. As much as I hate doing it, we should just go."
"Okay," Danny said. It was Tucker's decision. "Give me your hands." He held his out.
"Why?" Sam asked.
"I'm going to teleport us there. With any luck, they won't even notice we're gone." Though he doubted it; they'd probably check on them in a few minutes and find them missing.
"No offense, but I'm not sure I trust you to teleport us," Tucker said. His actions belied his words, though, as he took Danny's hand gamely.
"I've teleported other people before," Danny assured. "It'll be fine." Sam tucked her notebook away before also taking his hand. He could feel their pulses through their fingertips, hear their hearts and breathing. "I am told it can be a bit jarring though, so brace yourselves."
"Now, wait just a—"
But Tucker was cut off as Danny teleported them, expanding into the world outside and re-consolidating in the north of the city, just outside the Nasty Burger. Or, rather, what had been the Nasty Burger—all that remained were ruins. Danny kept his friends upright as they sagged. Sam's face looked green, and Tucker coughed awkwardly, trying not to gag.
He let them regain their breath, standing there looking out over the destruction. He could see a lot clearer than he would've been able to a week ago, and he could make out individual dust particles in the air. The greenish light from the sun was blinding. We need to make sure the shield doesn't go down. This one was only set up to last a week or two. He wanted to ask his—but no. He could talk to Technus, maybe.
Tucker panted, straightening. "Warn a guy next time, would you?"
Danny cocked a brow, feeling better than he had in days. Dora and the unknown ghost's—probably Allistor's—signatures were just down the street. The level of destruction the Empress had brought on his city was terrifying, but now, at least, he was out. He could start doing something about it, though the memories of his helplessness haunted and horrified him.
"I thought that's what I did," he said, letting go of his friends' hands. The stench of plaster and brick and wood was heavy in the air, and he could smell the lingering scent of smoke and ectoplasm and even blood.
"'Jarring' is a bit of an understatement," Sam muttered. "That was worse than the apparating in Harry Potter." She also rose, glancing at the Nasty Burger. Her lips thinned and she looked away.
"Well, none of us have actually apparated before, so—"
"Shut up, Tucker," Sam said. "Apparition isn't real, so by definition this has to be worse."
"I don't think that's how that works," Danny said, but to stem further argument, he pointed down the street. "That way—her signature's coming from there."
The three of them walked down the debris-covered street. He could see markings on the outside of the buildings—probably signs from rescue teams left to say whether the building had been cleared or not. Sometimes, he caught the whiff of death, and he tried not to think about it. It's your fault they died. If you hadn't fallen for her trap…
They found Dora and Allistor in an abandoned McDonald's, which by some miracle had remained standing. They were sitting at one of the booths, Dora looking much better. There were bandages wrapped around her head and arms, but her skin looked bright and her aura healthy.
"Sir Phantom!" she cried as they entered. Tables had been knocked down, and bits of the ceiling still flaked down. Danny wondered if the building was safe, and then decided that Dora and Allistor, having the ability to go intangible, wouldn't necessarily care.
Dora stood and flew over, embracing Danny. They were nearly the same height, though she was a little taller. Danny wondered when his human "targeted growth-spurt" would kick in.
"Hi, Dora," he said, patting her back. "I'm glad you're alright." He could feel her core's vibration, and she smelt differently than his friends did—more like ectoplasm, which he supposed was to be expected.
"If I am, it is only due to your efforts," she said, grinning broadly. "And Allistor's, of course."
"I am happy to be of service, your Highness," the ghosts said, dipping his head. He was exactly as he'd been on the battlefield, his glasses shining in the glow of their auras.
"Thanks for fixing me up." Danny disengaged from Dora and stuck his hand out to the approaching ghost. But instead of taking it, the healer bowed low.
"The honor was mine, Sir Phantom. I am pleased that you have made such a swift recovery. And greetings to you, Sir Tucker, Lady Sam," Allistor said, nodding to each of Danny's friends.
"Hey, Allistor." Sam waved. "I guess the ecto-dejecto helped, then?"
"Ah, yes—it was instrumental in healing Queen Dora." Allistor pushed his glasses up his nose. "She would not be here, much less nearly completely healed, had it not been for those injections of ectoplasm. Tell me, how exactly did you come across its formula?"
"Er." Tucker floundered, looking at Danny—like if I mention his dad, will he have another breakdown?
Danny sighed, grimacing. "We didn't. My dad created it, trying to find something to hurt ghosts. It was an accident."
"A most fortunate accident," Dora said. "You look pained, Sir Phantom—has something terrible befallen your father?" Danny rubbed his forehead. He had decided to see her to avoid thinking about his parents.
"No. He's fine. They just… found out." And decided I was diseased, and needed to be cured. And maybe they were right… Maybe he was unnatural. But all he knew was how comfortable, how right, it was to have his core thrumming next to his heart, how right it felt to breathe and use his powers.
Dora frowned, her eyes sympathetic. "And they reacted poorly, I gather. I knew something had to be—"
Someone opened the door. In a flash, Danny, Sam, and Tucker were ready to fight, their hands lighting with ectoplasm or trailing to their guns. The person had a heartbeat—clearly human. Had a hunter found them? Only, was that a signature he could feel, faint beneath their skin?
"Danny!" It was El. She smiled broadly, running across the room to give him his second hug of the day. She smelled—much like he did, he noted. That made sense. Tucker and Sam relaxed, taking their hands off their weapons. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still sick or whatever."
Danny ruffled her hair, noting the spear on her back. "I could ask you the same question. I was checking up on Queen Dora." She ducked out of his reach, patting her hair back down with a glare.
"Lady El has been instrumental in bringing supplies and messages, as Volant and our other messenger birds can no longer enter Amity," Dora supplied, offering the ghost girl a smile.
"Why didn't you just use the thermos to have her bring you back over?" Tucker asked. "And hi, El." They bumped fists, the action eerily reminiscent of what Danny and Tucker used to do (and still did, occasionally). Sam grinned at El.
"It is easier for supplies. Lady El ferried them from your Fenton Works to here—things Allistor needed to heal me. Today, I was deemed well enough to cross the shield in your thermos," Dora replied. "I am anxious to see my people and my soldiers."
"Thanks for that, by the way," Danny said softly. "For helping us." Dora gripped his arm and nodded.
"I imagine I will do so again, in the coming weeks. The Empress is not yet finished," she said. "We must do everything we can to stop her, and reverse the damage she has done."
"I know." Danny couldn't help but think of his failure, of how he hadn't been able to prevent the merging. His uselessness. He shoved it from his mind, blinking. "In fact, that's what I'm going to do. Start helping clear debris."
"Um, no." Sam put her hands on her hips. "This is your first day up and about—you are not gallivanting off. Five days ago you couldn't even move!" Danny tried not to flinch at the reminder, and he saw regret pass in Sam's eyes as she realized her poor word choice. But she plowed on, "Your powers are still off—now isn't a good time to do this."
But if I wait, I won't be able to help as much. His core hummed, protect, protect, protect whispering inside him. Helping was much like protecting, he'd found. And it wasn't just his ghost half; his human half wanted to do everything to help and protect, too. "I'm going to regardless, Sam," he told her. "The Empress won't wait until I'm better to start hurting people—and I'm sure she already has. We've already wasted five days because of this. I'm well enough now."
"He's not wrong," Tucker put in. "Maybe not right, though. If you overexert yourself, that's not exactly helpful either." The three of them had forgotten that the others were even there.
"I can help, too," El said. "Now that Dora won't need me. And we can bring over a few ghosts to help. And, well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Valerie."
Danny looked away from his friends into eyes that were carbon copies of his own. "Yeah, me too. But it's not your fault. And we had a truce—though that wasn't exactly helpful last time, either."
El seemed to hunch in on herself, and Danny was reminded of how young she really was—only two years old, technically. Physically the same age he had been when he'd first gotten his ghost powers. God, had he ever really looked that innocent?
He wondered if it was the additional two years that had jaded him, or simply the past weeks. He had never felt more exhausted, more bone-weary. And worst of all, the end wasn't even in sight. If he failed again, it might drift out of his reach entirely, the worlds left stuck together, the Empress intent on ruling the newly-merged world. But he couldn't let that happen, and that started here and now in undoing the damage she had done in Amity.
He worried about the rest of the world, but this was all he could do. For now.
AN: Thank you so much for the response! Also, there may be a small semi-plot-hole I created in this chapter, but like… I tried to cover it up lol. And thank you to my beta TheSteelShadow. We are finally moving forward :) Questions: Were the changes in Foleys and Valerie realistic? What did you think of the Jazz/Fentons argument? What about Danny's emotional sort-of recovery?