Sometimes, the right decision is difficult to make. Other times, it's not the choice that's hard, but the plan to follow.

"Have you heard from him?"

Maddie looked up from the schematics spread across the table at Jack's question. He was holding out a cup of coffee and a sandwich on a plate. She doffed her gloves before taking both with a grateful smile and enjoyed a fortifying sip of coffee before biting into the sandwich. Lettuce crunched and tomato juice oozed down her chin as flavour burst into her mouth. This was fresher than the fare they usually got.

With the food regulation imposed by the Guys in White, prices on the black market were high, and she and Jack were too well known for her to comfortable with either of them taking the risk of being identified. Most often, ghosts went on their behalf to negotiate with other ghosts, a system enough people favourable with ghosts were using that it granted them some anonymity. Half the agricultural system was run by ghosts these days. Those ghosts were captured and controlled, often caged by new ghost tech not of their design, but she'd seen some with the distinctive red eyes that had reminded her of the time Phantom—Danny—had been controlled, and she wanted to find a way to free them.

Somehow.

As it was, the humans who remained in the food production side of the equation were too afraid to defy the Guys in White, too busy revelling in the good prices to want to rock the boat, already washed, or quietly biding their time, helping people on the side without drawing the attention of the authorities.

That was how Maddie and Jack had ended up here, on a little acreage a hop, skip, and a jump from Vlad's old mansion in Wisconsin.

She didn't know what had happened to the previous owners of this place.

Statistically, they'd have been relocated to a city settlement for protection. This wasn't a farmyard; chances were good the occupants had worked in the city anyway. Besides, almost all the stories of ghosts massacring entire families was pure propaganda. She rather doubted any ghost so unstable would still be free—if they weren't caught by hunters, others of their own kind like Walker would see to them—but it was so much easier for the Guys in White to find and wash any dissenters when they were operating right under their noses.

"No," Maddie said in answer to Jack's question around the second bite of her BLT. Jack sat in the free chair opposite her at the table that had accidentally become her makeshift desk during breakfast a couple of days ago. She didn't need to ask who Jack had been asking about. Danny still hadn't visited them in person, not even after Skulker had found their hiding spot after they'd first left the Delta Facility. They had, however, gotten a message from him through Kitty last week.

It wasn't the same, but it was the best they could do right now.

After she swallowed, Maddie continued, "This has to be from Undergrowth's greenhouses and MacDonald's farms—or someone of their ilk. We haven't gotten anything that tastes this good since we left the cities." Since they'd abandoned their work for the Guys in White and fled, more like. Worried for them as Jazz might be—for she would have surely heard of their defection even if she worked primarily out of Psi—she would never send them anything directly. It was too great a risk. She couldn't be in contact with them or they'd risk losing her.

Sometimes, Maddie still wondered if Jazz had made the right decision when she'd stayed.

She knew why Jazz had done it, of course.

Jazz had known exactly what she'd been doing when she'd signed up.

She'd known all along.

Jack and Maddie hadn't.

Maddie wiped her chin and then licked her fingers before adding, "That means you're the one with news." He wouldn't have asked—however indirectly—if she'd already heard otherwise. Bringing her something to eat had been an excuse, even though her sudden ravenousness told her he would've done it without needing a reason once he'd looked at the time himself.

Jack pushed the coffee cup closer to her. "Finish eating first. It's been too long since you've taken a break."

"You aren't any better. I know you were testing prototypes all morning with the Box Ghost."

Jack shrugged but didn't deny it. "He's a good sport."

He was.

It turned out that as long as they took the Box Ghost seriously and let him keep the boxes for all the failed prototypes, he was willing to help them.

Of course, the fact that they'd shifted the focus of their research helped.

They were still paranormal scientists, but they weren't ghost hunters. As collaborators who'd defected to the resistance and become traitors of the human race—phrases both bandied about on the official broadcasts—she and Jack actually had bounties on their heads.

Million dollar bounties, in fact.

They had something in common with their son.

She would've given a million dollars to be able to hug him again, to tell him in person and not through another ghost that they knew the truth and that they loved him, that they were sorry even if sorry alone couldn't begin to make up for the past. They hadn't seen him since this had all begun.

He'd run away with his friends shortly after the Merge. They'd tried to look for him, of course, but people had been in a state of panic and all the proper channels had been overwhelmed. They themselves had been bombarded with requests and demands that they deal with the ghost problem. When the Guys in White had offered to help them search for Danny in exchange for having the Fentons work with them and share their technology, it had seemed logical.

Jazz had not looked happy, but she hadn't protested.

Instead, she'd made the decision to sign up for herself the next day.

They hadn't known the reasons behind it at the time.

Despite being assigned to different facilities, they'd kept in regular contact with Jazz. As far as they'd known, she hadn't had any luck finding Danny, either. They'd tried pulling on old connections as well as their new ones, of course, but Vlad—like so many other ultra-wealthy individuals—had retreated from the spotlight in an attempt to protect himself. Jack had even tried to talk up Vlad's background as their former research partner to get the Guys in White to issue him a formal invitation to join their cause, but they'd been informed that Mr. Masters was not someone who wanted to be found.

In hindsight, Maddie couldn't blame him for hiding. Vlad had never liked relinquishing control. He wouldn't have been happy working under the Guys in White. She hoped that he was like them, working somewhere from the sidelines in an attempt to change things. To fix things. Vlad had a strong enough background to be able to help.

There were rumours of someone calling themselves the Dairy King working in the area. More than a small part of her hoped it was him, but she and Jack had already made the decision not to reach out. They wouldn't be staying in Wisconsin for long; they had to keep moving, and their next safe house was already lined up. If it did turn out to be Vlad, staying would be too tempting, even knowing the risks.

Given how they'd left, they simply couldn't afford to be caught by the Guys in White. To say they'd gone out with a bang would be an understatement; she wouldn't be surprised if they were still doing internal repairs, even if all the outward damage had been fixed.

Jack and Maddie had worked at Delta for months before discovering the truth about Phantom, but it hadn't taken months for them to realize that they wouldn't be able to convince the Guys in White of that truth—or, rather, of the importance of it.

Maddie could still remember the folder she'd glimpsed that had started it all, the one they'd tried to hide from her and Jack. She could remember the moment she'd realized that they had to leave or be washed into someone who would no longer care that Danny—

Maddie didn't actually know if Jazz was still herself.

She was a better actress than they'd ever realized, and they hadn't had any reliable updates about her in weeks.

"The Fenton Spirit Strengthener is holding up?" Maddie asked, trying to distract herself. Talking shop wouldn't completely detract from her worries, but it would give her something else to focus on. It would give her something to do besides worry about the fact that both her children were out there and that she couldn't do anything to protect them from the danger she knew was present.

"Still hasn't got anything on Pandora's box. We have work to do."

Jack didn't say that that work was that much harder to do now that they had trouble scraping together enough resources to do anything properly, but he hardly needed to.

"I could use a new pair of eyes on this," Maddie said instead with a nod at the schematics. "I wouldn't mind a break from it altogether, to be honest. I'd like to take another crack at our Ghost Zone conundrum."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "The Sidster's back with intel already?"

Maddie shoved the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and shook her head. Poindexter and another ghost she hadn't met, Youngblood, had volunteered to do a little reconnaissance—and a little robbery. She doubted they'd see them for at least another day, most likely two or three. It didn't surprise her that Jack had lost track of the days, though. He'd never been very good at that without her help.

"Well, Johnny didn't say anything about him."

Maddie swallowed and picked up her coffee again. She knew Jack was beating around the bush, but she didn't understand why. He was usually so straightforward, and she appreciated that about him. "What did Johnny say?"

Jack hesitated, and Maddie's heart sank. She hadn't seen him look so solemn since they'd heard about Sam. "Did they wash Jazz?" she pressed. "Or Tucker?" It had been public knowledge when they'd washed Sam. It had been a deliberate blow to their morale, and this news would be no different.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

If they'd been smart enough to keep their washings secret, if they were only finding out now because someone on their side had discovered it….

"They've got Danny," he whispered.

Maddie didn't realize she'd dropped her coffee cup until Jack was yanking the schematics away and patting the paper dry with a handkerchief. Belatedly, she set the (thankfully still whole) mug to the side and stood to find some towels. She'd found those in this house, hadn't she? In the drawer two down from the sink?

She pulled it open, but it was full of pens and paper and tape and a variety of other supplies. Two drawers down must have been the last house. She moved closer to the stove, found the oven mitts and aprons, and decided those would do.

She missed the days when they could stay in one spot and just lose themselves in their work.

Maddie dropped an apron onto the table, letting the coffee soak into the buffalo plaid as Jack set the schematics on the floor and weighted the corners down with books she'd left there at some point since yesterday. "How are we going to get him out?"

Another man might have told her it was impossible, but Jack Fenton had done the impossible too many times to tell her a silly thing like that.

"Here's what we know," he said instead. He pulled a wad of blank papers and a marker from his pockets. As he talked, he sketched out possibilities and ideas along with his notes. She was soon interjecting with her own ideas and amendments, and it was almost like old times.

Almost.

But they weren't designing a ghost portal this time; they were figuring out how to break through to a place thought just as impenetrable.

They would get Danny back, whatever happened.

Too many people—too many ghosts—depended on him for them to give up without even trying.