For anthrop for the phic phight. :)
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Danny's phone was dead. Which was just typical, really. His parents were brilliant, wealthy inventors that played with the fabric of reality on a daily basis and had managed to turn, not one, but two of Danny's best friends into half ghosts, but they couldn't be bothered to get Danny a phone that was actually reliable. Although they hadn't intended to do the half ghost thing and didn't know about it.
Probably.
Maybe.
(Honestly, Danny didn't know. His parents were weird. And Danny suspected they were keeping secrets.)
Back on topic. Phone. Not working. Which was a problem because Danny was something like ninety-percent sure a ghost had been following him for the last block or so and he couldn't call for help.
Correction, he could call for help all he wanted, he just wouldn't get any that would be any good against a ghost. If he got any at all. It was the middle of the night.
He should have taken up Sam's offer of a flight home. Or Tucker's. But, no, he had to be sulky about how both of them were developing yet more really, incredibly cool powers and Danny was still just…
Himself.
Faceless, boring Fenton. Only notable for the number of bullies he attracted and the people he was related to. No special skillset, no dreams he had any hope of achieving, no triumphs. Nothing to contribute. Not in and of himself. Only useful to enemies that wanted a hostage.
He was about to be murdered by a ghost and he was still sulking. God, he was pathetic.
(Not all ghosts were evil – Sam and Tucker's stories had taught him that much, on an intellectual basis. Was it too much to hope that he could reach home without the ghost attacking? Too much to hope that it was just watching?)
White noise tugged at Danny's ears. It reminded him of the sleep CD Jazz played when Mom and Dad were being loud.
… and, also, oddly, of a video he'd once watched about what stars might sound like, based on how they vibrated.
Danny shuddered, his heartbeat redoubling as he picked up speed, reaching a run. If he could get home, he could turn on the ghost shield and call Sam and Tucker from his home phone. They'd be annoyed that he was bothering about a ghost so long after a patrol, but he was freaked out enough to not really care about their teasing.
(He'd been freaked out enough for the past two blocks.)
His breath began to catch in his lungs, his side burning. He splashed through a puddle, dark, oily liquid sticking to his right sneaker and pant leg. It glittered in the light of the waning crescent moon.
Wait –
It hadn't rained for weeks.
He slipped and fell, skinning hands, knees, and chin on the sidewalk. Something wet, sticky, and smooth as silk spread over the pavement beneath him. It bubbled like a tar pit, and captive stars shone from within.
Danny tried to push himself up, but the liquid held on to him, pulled him back down.
He was sinking.
He flailed for the sidewalk, reaching, trying to stay afloat. It didn't work. His elbows were below the level of the sidewalk, and inky, glittery black dripped from his front. It seemed to be eating through his clothes.
Forget useful help. He'd take any help. He screamed.
And he fell.
.
"You have such lovely dreams," said the masked man, his horns curling into galaxies. "Impossible dreams."
Danny couldn't breathe. He was in freefall. A vacuum. No ground in sight, only the cold, heartless stars, perfect in their beauty.
(And his eyes. Oh, god, was this really a ghost?)
It was his dream, to be an astronaut. With this little twist, it became a nightmare, and yet—
Yet.
"You feel faceless," continued the masked man. "But there's freedom in that, is there not?"
Danny shouldn't be able to hear him. There shouldn't be any sound in space, and there wasn't. Not except for his voice.
"Freedom," said the man, "to follow your wildest dreams, unshackled from responsibility, from reality, from reasonability. No longer dependent on those that call themselves your friends, who claim to be your family, who walk over your dreams for the sake of theirs."
Suddenly, Danny hit the sidewalk, and he could breathe again. Something thick dripped from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He pushed himself to his hands and knees. His clothing was gone. His limbs were painted with the night sky in all its glory. He froze, staring.
From Danny's shadow, the masked man rose, towering over Danny until he felt like little more than a shadow. "Don't you want to have the chance to see your dreams come true, child?"
Danny blinked. It was hard to force his eyes back open. They seemed to want to stick closed.
"Who are you?" Danny asked, words garbled by the dripping stars trying to force their way past his lips.
"I am Nocturne," the ghost said, leaning closer.
"You're like," Danny choked, "like Desiree. I don't want—"
Nocturne scoffed. "Desiree. A creature of wishes, of momentary things. I do not care for what you wish for. What matters is that you dream."
There was something in Nocturne's hand, round and white and moonlike. It looked small, held between two of his fingers, but it had to be the size of Danny's face.
"Don't you dream of flying?" purred Nocturne. "Of being among the stars? Don't you dream of a peaceful world, where your friends are safe, and the accident never happened? Where you're a friend, not a weapon supply, a sidekick, or a damsel in distress?"
Danny had been thinking something so close just minutes ago and he couldn't—
"There, there, my child. No need to cry." He brought the round thing closer.
Danny could see, now, that it was a mask. Just his size.
"Close your eyes," said Nocturne, gently, cupping Danny's trembling shoulders with his other hand. "Close your eyes and dream. Let your face go, for a little while."
(Danny did as he was told.)
.
"Hi, Sam," said Mrs. Fenton, her voice crackling slightly through the phone speaker. "Have you seen Danny today?"
"I haven't seen him since last n—Since yesterday," said Sam, correcting herself halfway though. Mrs. Fenton didn't know about their nightly escapades, and for good reason. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know yet," said Maddie. "He just… I haven't seen him either. He usually says goodbye before he leaves."
He didn't, but Maddie didn't need to know that.
"Have you checked with Tucker yet? Sometimes they hang out without me. Guy things." This… was also not entirely true. Danny and Tucker hadn't had a 'guy thing' for ages. They'd been smoothly replaced with 'ghost things' like most everything else in their lives.
Sam… might have felt a little bad about that. All of their normal friend activities being replaced by ghost things, that is. Often ghost things that Danny couldn't really participate in, because Danny couldn't fly or shoot lasers from his hands.
He did do a good job of setting up obstacle courses and covering for her and Tucker's—
Wait, no, not the point.
"He hasn't seen him, either. Jazz doesn't know where he is. I don't—" She broke off, sighing. "Call me if you see him. Or tell him to call me."
"I will," said Sam, opening the window and preparing to take off.
"Thank you," said Maddie. She hung up.
Sam went ghost with a burst of green fire. She floated up and out of the window, fading out of visibility as she dialed Tucker's number.
"Starboy's missing," she said.
"Yeah, I'm already searching for him," said Tucker, the microphone crackling with static but otherwise clear. Tucker's powers both did and didn't mesh well with technology.
"Any luck?"
"No," said Tucker. "This is one of those times when I wish he did have friends other than us. Then we could ask them about where he is."
"Do you think he's been taken by a ghost?" asked Sam.
"I mean, maybe? There was that whole thing with Desiree…"
"And the second thing with Desiree," added Sam.
"And Skulker."
"And the second thing with Skulker."
"And Spectra."
"And the second thing with Spectra."
"Not to mention Vlad."
"What a freak," said Sam.
"Are you picking up a pattern here?"
"Yeah, maybe. Who's only kidnapped Danny once?"
"I'm not sure… Maybe it's a new guy? We do get new guys now and again."
Sam sighed. "Never mind that," she said. "Where have you looked so far?"
"Not too many places. Do you want to meet up, or…?"
"No, we'll have more luck going separately. I'll check in with you in a bit."
.
A whole day passed without any sign of Danny. They did, however, find a lot of ghosts with stitched-shut eyes, which they decided was probably related and also incredibly creepy.
By that time, the police got involved. Danny was officially a missing person.
But they were distracted. Didn't have the manpower to search for just one missing person.
Why?
The sudden surge in coma patients.
"I don't get it," said Tucker. "Is that more of a, you know," he lowered his voice, "doctor thing? Like, if it's a bunch of people, don't you think it's a disease or something?"
"The police think that someone poisoned 'em," said Sam.
"How do you know that?"
"How do you think I know that?"
"Dude. You have to stop eavesdropping on the police. I'm, like, ninety percent sure that's illegal."
"Not for ghosts, it isn't."
"Okay, I'm one hundred percent sure it is. You've read the anti-ecto acts, haven't you? I'm not the only one who did that, right?"
"It was, like, fifty pages thick. And stupid. The only reason I'd read it would be if I wanted to break the laws more efficiently."
"Seriously?"
.
An alien world spread out below Danny, a place to explore to his heart's content, the sky twinkling above him. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was there, in the nameless, infinite way you knew things when you were dreaming.
He was an astronaut. An adventurer. An explorer.
He was doing everything he had ever dreamed of.
The only thing missing were the people. His friends. His family.
But… He could bring them here. He knew that, too, in the same way.
He just had to reach out and touch them. Feel them. Take them.
(A bit of black and starlight in their eyes, a touch of the gift given to him.)
(Nocturne whispered in his ears. A song only for him.)
.
They found the ghost responsible for the comas. And maybe they should have realized a ghost was causing them, but Danny was the one who usually put the pieces together, and he wasn't there. Which was the problem.
(What Sam wouldn't give for some kind of reliable ghost-detecting power. Or even technology.)
(No, the Fenton Finder didn't count.)
It was small, human proportions, human skin tone, where it wasn't covered with some kind of ghostly paint that mimicked the night sky. Its hair was colored the same way, and a blank mask covered its face. Seemed to be directing the green stitched-eye ghosts somehow, despite not saying a word. So. All in all, typical ghost, if somewhat more annoying due to his lack of witty banter.
Then he shrugged off the thermos beam like it was nothing. Almost like he was human.
Then Tucker froze.
The ghost was carried away from the fight by its minions, faster than Sam or Tucker could go.
"Tucker! What was that?"
"Birthmark," gasped Tucker.
"What?" asked Sam.
"That was Danny's birthmark."
"Oh my god," said Sam. "Did he really get himself transformed into a ghost again?"
"This seems different than Desiree," said Tucker. "I don't… Were we really fighting him?"
Sam rolled her eyes. "Let's go get the Ghost Catcher."
.
The Ghost Catcher was not in evidence in the Fenton basement.
"What now?" asked Tucker.
"Beat it out of him?" suggested Sam.
"That is a terrible plan. No, I can't even call it a plan. It's just bad."
"Do you have anything better?"
(Tucker did not have anything better.)
.
(And Danny still couldn't find his friends, to show them this dream come true.)
.
When about one in ten people in Amity Park was in a coma, things managed to get even worse. The people who were asleep began to sleepwalk. And sleep attack people.
Sam and Tucker were used to fighting ghosts. Not humans. They didn't want to hurt anyone.
Especially Danny who was especially vicious. And also seemed to be targeting them.
.
Danny was so close. So close he could almost touch them. He could feel them, electricity and green things and dreams of power and justice. He could feel them, feel them, feel them, and he was so, so close to inviting them into the dream and he needed it, needed them. Wanted them.
His dream, the dream, his dream, it just wouldn't be complete without them at his side, wouldn't be right.
He reached for them, reached for Sam, brushed her sleeve and—
A meteor shower threw them apart.
.
Tucker dragged Sam away from Danny's hand and the sleep-inducing liquid it was coated in.
"We have to go," he gasped, looking out at the veritable horde of ghosts and sleepwalking humans.
"Yeah," said Sam. "Yeah, we have to – Have to regroup."
They retreated to the Ghost Zone, and, predictably, were separated.
.
The ghost's name was Undergrowth, and he was interested in Sam. Interested enough to offer to teach her.
His power was the same as hers. Nature. Plants.
His rage against humans was… much greater. Overwhelming. Too much, too far, to extreme. She was glad he didn't see her as human, didn't seem to know that she wanted to protect humans.
(That she wanted to save Danny.)
.
Tucker already knew Technus. Had met him, fought him, beat him. More than once, even.
So, he had to ask why Technus was suddenly helping him.
The ghost fixed Tucker with a look that managed to be both incredulous and flat.
"Ghost child," warbled Technus, "I, Technus, Master of All Things Electronic and Beeping, know what being electrocuted feels like! By the very power we both now wield!"
"Oh," said Tucker. "Yeah, that makes sense. You were saying?"
.
Sam and Tucker stood in front of the portal, side by side.
"Ready to be a wake-up call?" asked Tucker.
"You'd better believe it," said Sam.
.
Danny was caught, trapped in Sam's vines.
"This isn't working," said Tucker, lightly shocking Danny once again. The ectoblast didn't help, either. "Usually, this'd zap the ghost out of him, but…"
"Maybe we could try to overshadow him?" asked Sam, dubiously.
"Ugh," said Tucker. "My least favorite power."
"It could be the only way to find the ghost actually responsible."
"Let's do this."
.
Danny was thrilled! He'd finally found his friends. True, he couldn't move, but—
The stars shuddered. Shifted. Blinked.
Nocturne was angry.
.
Sam was knocked out of the sky at full speed, making a crater in the dark ground. People were gathered nearby. Amity Park people.
This couldn't just be the inside of Danny's mind (overshadowing had never worked this way before, but, well, it wasn't like they experimented with it a whole lot), it had to be some kind of shared dream. A special power of the ghost, perhaps?
Sam fired up her powers, reaching for the nearby plants. They didn't respond.
Crud.
This was a dream. They just looked like plants.
Then Tucker lit up the sky like a dying star, electrocuting everyone in range.
.
Danny woke up, throwing Sam and Tucker out of his body, something metallic clanging against sidewalk pavement. Out of his mind, out of his dream. Out of that dream, the one Nocturne had made for him.
Oh, god. He'd just spent the last week—Had it been a week, or longer? —out of his mind, in that dream, reality at one remove, if that. He'd been blind and—
He reached up to his face, to that mask and he pulled. It stuck. He pulled harder, and felt the goo sticking it on give, the mask coming away while dripping thick strands of ooze. He gasped. And it felt like the first breath he'd taken in—
How long had it been?
He opened his eyes just in time to see Nocturne rise out of his shadow.
.
Both Sam and Tucker had more of an advantage out here in the real world, without having to worry about hurting people. Well, without having to worry about hurting people more than usual. Wrecking buildings and missing with ectoblasts were still concerns.
"Draw him towards the park?" called Tucker, once they got close enough to confer with each other.
"You grab Danny?"
"I don't—" started Tucker. He dodged a swipe from the large, starry ghost. "He might be safer, if—"
A column of blue light strobed into the sky, and Nocturne was pulled into the Fenton Thermos. The Fenton Thermos held by Danny Fenton. He coughed, black liquid dripping down his chin.
"Hey," said Danny. "Thanks."
"I've got to stop losing that thing," groaned Tucker.
"I think the more important thing here is getting Danny some clothes," said Sam, shielding her eyes.
"Yes, please," said Danny.
"Glad to have you back, man," said Danny, landing next to Danny and transforming. "Honestly, without you, we kind of suck at the whole investigation angle."
"What?" asked Danny, taking the sweater Tucker offered him.
"We missed you," clarified Sam. "A lot. We kind of… don't do to well at anything about ghost fighting. Or life."
"Yeah, our social life sucked even more than usual."
"Oh," said Danny, wrapping the sweater around his waist. "That's cool." He spit some of the black liquid out onto the sidewalk. "I need a shower."
"Yep. Hugs are going to be deferred until then."
"I'm okay with that," said Danny. "I kind of… don't want to be touched, for a while."
"Ah," said Tucker. "Well. I'm depressed again."
"Just. Until the shower," said Danny.
Sam reached out as if to pat Danny on the shoulder, then drew back. "Do you want a flight back home? Or to, uh, Tucker's house? To shower. And get some clothes."
"How is that different from a hug? You'll still have to carry me."
"It just is," said Sam.
"It really is," said Tucker.
There was a long pause.
"I lied, I want a hug so bad," said Danny.
His friends practically flung themselves at him.