Wow I sorta dropped off the face of the earth! If you follow me on Tumblr, ( lexosaurus) you may have seen some things. I'm not gonna get into it here, but I'm REALLY excited to release this chapter and I've also been trying my best to get ahead on the next few scenes so this large gap doesn't happen again.

Summary of fic so far: Danny was accidentally outed to the world via a weapon from Skulker (who got it from Vlad). The government immediately whisked him away for a month where he was used as a battery while also experiencing torture that broke his spine and resulted in mental health problems such as PTSD and some issues around food. Upon returning to school too soon, he suffered a breakdown and was admitted to inpatient therapy, where his parents implanted a chip in his neck that blocked him from using his ghost powers. They have not taken it out yet despite Danny graduating from both inpatient and a PHP program. During one of several arguments about it, they told Danny he must prove he can attend classes without issues in order to have his ghost powers back, and to speed things up, Danny began abusing the leftover drugs he got from his surgeries/recovery at the hospital.

"He did really well today," his physical therapist told Maddie. "We're making great progress."

Maddie beamed down at him. "That's wonderful, sweetie."

"Keep exercising and stretching at home—especially those stairs—and I think we'll be able to start incorporating the crutches into our sessions next week."

Danny's ears perked up. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," the physical therapist said. "It's really incredible how strong your healing factor is. Your spasticity is decreasing, your foot drop tendencies are decreasing, and it really seems like your body is also healing the nerves on its own. In the last month alone, you've progressed at an astronomical rate, which is unusual given the timeline for your injury. Normally, after a few months, we see progress begin to slow, but in your case, it almost seems like it's speeding up. Once we can get your balance a little bit better, we'll have more options for your mobility at home aside from just the walker and wheelchair."

Maddie smoothed the hair on Danny's head. "Ectoplasm typically acts as a poison to a human. But with the way Danny's biology is, he managed to land in an extremely rare and specific circumstance where his ectoplasm and white blood cells can get along. So when an injury happens to the body, the ectoplasm acts as an aid to heal it."

"Yeah, it's amazing. I don't know many people who could bounce back from an injury like this, kid. You should be really proud of yourself."

Danny let out a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks."

"Alright, skedaddle." The therapist waved toward the clock mounted on the wall. "My next patient's waiting for me."

"Thanks so much, we'll see you on Thursday!" Maddie said.

Danny followed his mother out the door and fluidly transferred into the passenger seat of the car. He'd been back at school for a few weeks now, and things had fallen back into a routine. School, then he went either home, to PT, or therapy, and he had his IOP meeting, and then he was home for the evening. His days were busy, but they were structured.

And the structure was good. He could handle that.

IOP turned out to be just a shorter version of PHP. It lasted just a few hours, and the topics mainly focused on practicing coping strategies at home. Coping strategies that Danny found he didn't really need.

He already had coping strategies.

Nevertheless, he participated. And then each week, the therapists told his parents how fantastic he was doing, and his parents showered him with praise, and then they went home and disappeared into the lab.

They never invited Danny into the basement, and Danny never asked to join.

He knew that they were hoping he would just give up on getting the chip out. But if they were truly expert ecto-researchers, they should have known that their hopes were futile.

Because, like it or not, Danny had a core. And as a halfa, he needed access to it.

Whatever. If they wanted to live in a sea of their own denial, then Danny would let them. He had his coping strategies, he was getting better, and that's what was important.

IOP that day was just like all the others, and when Maddie picked him up afterward, she once again told him how well he was doing before settling into their usual silence in the car ride home.

Only this time, Danny had something else on his mind. Which was the problem in his drawer.

Thankfully, he had found another bottle of painkillers in his parents' medicine cabinet. But that didn't change the fact that he was now down to his last bottle. Once this ran out, he would have nothing left.

And based on how much his parents were ignoring the elephant in the room, Danny was going to need extra assistance.

"Mom," Danny kept his eyes on his lap. "My uh—you know, my chest…"

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Maddie's hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel. And he didn't blame her. His chest wasn't exactly a topic either of them had brought up outside of therapy before.

And even in therapy, he hadn't gone that far in detail about what really happened. Granted, he didn't remember much, but that didn't mean that the parts he was conscious for hadn't tattooed themselves into his brain.

He powered on. "It's—well, uh, it's…it's not really good."

"What do you mean by that, hun?" Maddie asked. "Has it been hurting a lot?"

"Yeah." He pressed his hand to his shirt. "Especially now that—now that I'm walking more. My back and legs too. It's really—really affecting everything."

That part wasn't even a lie. Now that those muscles were getting more use, most of his time off the heavy painkillers was spent in a constant stream of burning pain.

"Have you told this to the physical therapist?"

"Yeah, but—and she gave me stretches. But they're not—they—they're not really working. I don't know, can't the doctors just give me something?"

Maddie sighed. "I can take you back to your doctor, but hun, I don't know how much more pain management they can give you. Your dosages are already very high."

"Can we just try? Please?" Danny tried to not let the desperation leak into his voice.

"Yeah, we can try. But don't get your hopes up," Maddie said. "Unfortunately, despite your physiology, there are still laws that the doctors have to follow. Even if your body can handle higher doses, they may not be able to prescribe it. I'm sorry, it's just one of the things you're going to have to deal with."

Danny folded his arms and glared out the window.

"Sorry, hun. We can see about switching you to something else, but I don't know how much better it'll be."

"It's just unfair."

"I know. But there's not much we can really do about it."

"So—so what, I'm just ex—expected to be in pain for the—for the rest of my life?"

Maddie pursed her lips. "It won't be forever. Your nerves will heal eventually; it's one of the perks of having ectoplasm in your system. It's just going to take a little while."

"Wonderful." Danny rolled his eyes. "Well, can I at—can I at least talk to him first?"

"Sure."

That wasn't necessarily an optimistic view. If he couldn't get more painkillers from his doctor, he would have to find another way to get them.

In an ideal world, he would just break into a drugstore as Phantom invisible and steal a prescription. But there were a few issues with that. First off, he didn't even have access to Phantom. Second, stealing from a drugstore would mean taking medication away from someone it was actually prescribed for, which would cause the victim more pain. This went against the very nature of his Obsession, so that too was off the table.

The other option would be to find a local drug dealer and get something from him. The problem was, he was Danny Phantom. He was recognizable anywhere. If he started asking around for information, people would notice. Not to mention, ask the wrong person and they'd instantly report him to the police to be arrested again.

And thus, that solution was an instant failure as well.

Danny slumped in his seat. Well, it wasn't like he really needed the painkillers anymore. He was doing fine on his own. He could probably just wean himself off at the end of this bottle and he would be fine.

But wasn't it only thanks to these extra painkillers that you're doing well now? A little voice in his head whispered. If you stop taking them, won't the façade be ruined?

No, he insisted. There was no façade, he was better now.

Then that settled it. If he couldn't get more from his doctor, then he would wean himself off of the painkillers. And then he would be back to normal.

The door flew open with such speed that Danny wondered how its hinges didn't fall onto the concrete.

"Danny!" Tucker yelled, jumping down the front steps. "Hey, glad you could make it!"

"Um…" Danny raised a gift bag from his lap. "My—uh, my mom told me—told me to bring this for your mom. As a thank-you."

Maddie hadn't explained it in so many words, but Danny could only assume that Angela Foley, a longtime friend of Maddie, had taken to baking more than a few casseroles during Danny's trial. Hence, the bottle of Chardonnay in the shiny green bag.

"Oh, dope!" Tucker stopped in front of Danny and held out his hand. "Here, I got it. Let's get inside. Oh, hang on, one sec. Where's Sam?"

As if on cue, a black bob popped out from the open doorway. Out came Sam, a wide smile adorning her face.

"Hey, Danny! You made it!" she exclaimed, skipping down the porch.

"Course." Danny felt the last of his nerves wash away, and he offered his giddy friends a small smile in return. "Wouldn't miss it."

"My mom's so excited," Tucker said, passing off the gift bag to Sam. "You better be hungry, she cooked enough food to feed a family of twelve."

Danny snorted, standing up and taking his first steps forward on the uneven driveway. While the Foley residence was far more "homey" than the Fentons', it wasn't exactly wheelchair friendly. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as far as his physical therapist was concerned. She kept telling him he needed to get more practice using his walker in public anyway. While Tucker's house wasn't necessarily public, it was a good first step.

"Good thing that chair was out, huh?" Tucker said, nodding towards the metal folding chair that Danny had been occupying. One that Danny was sure was just pure coincidence that it happened to be hanging around outside next to Tucker's driveway, despite it living exclusively in their basement before.

"Sure," Danny said. "Crazy that it ended up there. Good thing I found it."

"You're a true hero in my heart."

"Oh, shut up."

The drop-off had been a point of contention between Danny and Maddie that day. She had spent the majority of the day insisting that she was going to help him inside. But since Danny couldn't think of anything more humiliating than being helped inside Tucker's residence in front of all of his neighbors by his mother, they compromised on this plan instead.

That way, Danny could have some semblance of dignity.

"Alright, just a couple steps."

Danny grabbed onto Tucker's arm with one hand and maneuvered his walker sideways with the other.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"All good," Danny said, hoping his voice didn't sound too breathy. Stairs were somewhat of a new addition to his exercise plan.

"Okay, just keep holding onto me. Sorry, we haven't replaced our railing yet after Uncle Frankie fell through it."

Danny nodded absentmindedly, focusing on making sure the walker wasn't about to slip out from under him. But after a torturous minute, they managed to reach Tucker's porch.

He paused at the top, leaning onto his walker for support. Like hell he was going to greet Angela for the first time after months sounding like he'd just run a marathon. Thankfully, Sam and Tucker didn't say anything. And if they were giving him pitying looks, well, Danny was too busy studying the ground to notice.

"Sorry, I'm good," Danny said after a moment.

"You want me to get a chair?" Sam asked.

"No, no. I'll be—I'm fine. Just…" Danny took a few deep breaths. "Okay. Okay, I'm good now."

After ascending the creaking porch steps, taking that final step into their house was a piece of cake.

And what a delightful cake it was.

Instantly, Danny was hit with the aroma of home-cooked food wafting from the kitchen. The living room was warm against the December air drafting from the open door, and the home was decorated in deep, earthy colors that reminded Danny of a log cabin in the woods.

"Mom! Danny's here!" Tucker shouted, kicking off his shoes.

Danny could hear a pan slam down on the counter before footsteps hurried around the kitchen arch.

"Danny!" Angela hurried over, dusting her hands off on her purple dress. Her dark eyes shone in the lamplight, and she surveyed him once before gently wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her warm embrace.

"Hi, Mrs. Foley." Danny felt his voice crack, and he blinked away the mist that threatened to form in his eyes. He melted into her shoulder, wrapping his own arms around her.

He had been so preoccupied in the last few months, that he had almost forgotten how good an Angela hug was.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you. So wonderful." Angela pulled back and took stock of him again. "Look at you, standing tall and everything. Oh, you've grown so much."

He ducked his head, hiding the blush that he was sure was forming on his cheeks. "I don't know about that."

"Nonsense! You're definitely taller than when I last saw you." She cupped her hand on his cheek, bringing his eyes back to hers. "You're so grown now. Definitely not a little kid anymore, huh? Oh, sweetheart, I'm just so glad to see you."

"You too."

"And Danny, I am just so proud of you, you know that? So proud. You're such a wonderful boy and I'm so thankful that you're home now."

Something slimy wormed in his stomach. Something that felt fake, like guilt.

He shook that feeling away.

She stepped back to wag a finger at him. "And don't you ever scare us like that again, young man. You hear me?"

"Lay off, Mom," Tucker said from behind him. "It wasn't his fault the government got handsy."

"Tucker Norris Foley!" Angela dropped her hand from Danny's face and glared past him. "Watch your mouth!"

"Yeah, Tuck." Danny could feel Sam's facepalm.

"It's fine," Danny reassured.

Seeming to remember that Danny was standing in front of her, Angela melted into a smile again. She patted his shoulder with a "good boy" and turned back to the kitchen.

"I hope you kids are hungry," she said, beckoning them forward. "I have the chicken in the oven with mashed potatoes and beans on the stove. Maurice called a few minutes ago, his meeting ran late but he should be home any minute now."

"Thank you." Danny carefully lowered himself onto the couch and bent down to take off his shoes.

"Oh, sweetie," Mrs. Foley's concerned voice called out. "Is it easier if you keep your shoes on? You don't need to take them off, no need."

Tucker's face morphed into one of complete shock and awe as if he couldn't believe the words he was hearing from his mother.

Warmth pooled in Danny. But naturally, he tried to downplay it. "No, it's fine. I don't want to—I walk without shoes in my home."

If anything, that just made Angela even more concerned. "Well, whatever is easier for you!"

Danny quickly slipped his sneakers off and set them to the side. "Thank you."

"Well, come on in! Tucker, don't be rude, get your friend a drink."

Danny tried not to act too sheepish as he awkwardly pulled himself up from the low, squishy couch, well aware that Mrs. Foley was studying his every move.

Thankfully, Sam came to the rescue. "Mrs. Foley? This is from Mrs. Fenton."

Angela plucked the bag from Sam's grasp and read the little note attached to the strings. "Oh, she didn't have to do this! Danny, your mother is so sweet."

"You know her," Danny said, gesturing to the air as if that explained everything.

"Still, tell her I said thank you."

"You want a soda or water?" Tucker called from the kitchen.

"Water's fine."

Sam pressed a hand on his back and peered over at him, her expression back to that strangely shy visage she'd been wearing ever since he'd gotten back from inpatient. "Let's grab seats in the kitchen."

They followed Tucker into the kitchen, and Danny slumped down into a chair that Sam had pulled out for him, feeling more than a bit useless as the others bustled around him, setting plates and silverware down on the table.

"Anything I can do to help?" Danny offered, knowing that there was, in fact, nothing he could help with.

As expected, Angela waved him off. "No! You just get comfortable. We're nearly done here."

"Okay."

"So how have you been? You've been healing well?"

"Uh, yeah. It's going well. I've been doing—going to PT. Um, for my spine and everything."

"That's wonderful, Danny. They've been good to you?"

"Yeah, they have a lot of stuff there. You know, to wake my muscles up. Some of it—it is really cool."

And he meant it. Despite his wishes to avoid any celebrity treatment, he wasn't blind to the fact that the newest rehabilitation center he'd been attending was paying special attention to him. There wasn't just one physical therapist assisting him during sessions—there were three. All of them specialized in treating spinal cord injuries, and he'd been told the physical therapist leading his sessions was one of the best in the country. He had access to all the equipment and modern technology that he could dream of, and he knew that if there was anything he ever needed, it would be ridiculously easy to get ahold of it.

Part of him did feel more than a little guilty. If he were just Danny Fenton, and not Phantom, he wouldn't have half the support he did now. And he could see it online, the jealousy from other SCI patients as they caught glimpses through photos and videos of his progress.

He'd seen the comments.

Damn, imagine how much that all costs.

Wish I could afford that treatment.

And he felt them all. He knew how lucky he was, and he was aware that he had taken it for granted before. He knew the weeks he'd spent moping about his disability and rejecting help were a slap in the face to everyone out there begging for even a sliver of the tools he had now.

But he had grown, he was stronger, and he was determined. Now that he was ready to work hard, he might as well take advantage of all the tools available to him.

Angela's voice cut through his thoughts. "And how's school going? You been catching up alright?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "It's been fine. School, you know."

"The other kids aren't giving you any trouble, are they?"

Tucker shot his mom a look of pure embarrassment and let out a low, "Mom!"

Out of politeness, Danny pretended not to notice the interaction. "No, it's been fine."

"That's good, that's good." Angela set a casserole dish full of mashed potatoes on the table.

Just then, a rumbling sounded from the garage.

"Oh good, Maurice is home. Just in time," Angela said, leaving the kitchen to greet her husband.

Danny sipped from his water glass, glad to have a break from the questions. Talking so casually about his situation still felt odd. The last time he'd seen Angela was at their Fourth of July barbeque, and they'd spoken about his plans for the summer and going to the gaming convention with Tucker.

It felt like so long ago, and at the same time, it felt like he'd just seen her yesterday. He wished he could go back to that barbeque and that they all could have just had the fun, lazy summer they had been planning.

"Refill?" Tucker asked.

To Danny's surprise, he realized that his water glass was empty. "Sure, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Sam slipped into the seat next to him, giving him that silent look that asked "you okay?"

Danny quirked his lips into a small smile and offered a subtle nod.

"Well, well, well!" Maurice's jovial voice entered the kitchen. "If it isn't Danny Phantom himself! How you doing, kid?"

Instead of feeling taken aback by Maurice's forthcoming words, Danny felt his stomach unknot as gratitude washed over him. He never said it out loud, but he had been stressing over this dinner all week. For two years, he had been Phantom. And for two years, he had been inadvertently putting their son in danger just by association.

He expected them to be angry and disgusted with him. He expected them to want nothing to do with him, to curse him out and shame him for daring to associate with their son.

But he should have known better.

Maurice and Angela weren't like those people online, the woman who yelled at him in the PHP lobby, or the Mansons who had made it explicitly clear that they wanted nothing to do with him anymore. They weren't the type of people to cut someone out of their lives for being a little different.

Hell, they raised Tucker. Even though they were both self-proclaimed "technologically illiterate," they still did their best to engage in their son's hobby with him. It was silly to think that they might shut Danny out because he was Phantom.

Danny stood, using the table for support with one hand and the other to reach out and offer a handshake.

Maurice's bushy mustache rose into a genuine smile, and he clasped Danny's hand with his own. "Wow, look at you! You bounced back quickly, eh?"

Danny motioned over to the walker that Sam had put against the wall. "Not totally, but—but we're getting there."

Maurice waved him off and dropped his work bag against the wall. "That's alright, kid. Just keep working hard!"

Grinning, Danny sat back down. "Thanks."

Tucker and Angela settled into their seats, and Maurice grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet. The comfortable routine and open ease of the Foleys were not lost on Danny. He wished his family's dinners were like this. Well, for his parents and Jazz they certainly were, but not for him.

But the Foleys weren't ones for stewing in silence.

"So, Phantom, huh?" Maurice said, casually pouring wine into the glasses.

"Yeah, that's me."

"The whole time?"

Tucker facepalmed. "Dad."

"What? I'm only asking!"

"It's fine, Tuck." Danny chuckled. Weirdly enough, Tucker's dad seemed like the most reasonably curious person Danny had talked to since his identity was blown. "Yeah. It's been—been me the whole time."

"Huh, how 'bout that," Maurice mused, setting one of the glasses down in front of Angela, who accepted it readily.

"Well," Maurice continued. "I guess this is a bit late, but I should thank you for saving my life when that box guy showed up in our office that day. What was his name again?"

Danny racked his brain for the memory of this. "The Box Ghost?"

"Yeah, that's the guy!"

"Dad, I don't know if Danny capturing the Box Ghost is exactly saving your life, but okay."

Sam snorted, covering her face with her hand.

But Maurice took the jabs in stride, wearing his own grin to match. "Well, maybe not in the literal sense, but he certainly saved me from having to spend hours redoing all that filing! Old Boxy was about to make a mess out of our archive papers! Thanks to Danny, there were only a few boxes that got messed up instead of the entire shelving unit."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of service."

"Okay, food's ready, everyone! Let's eat. Oh, Sam, I accidentally left your tofu next to the stove—"

"I got it, Mrs. Foley! Thank you!"

Following Tucker's lead, Danny plopped some food onto his plate and dug in. As brilliant as his own parents were, the culinary skill didn't exactly run in the Fenton family genes, and he could only take so many reanimated chicken legs jumping off his plate before he started seeking food elsewhere. Namely, the Foley household.

Angela and Maurice had never shooed him away, and they never made him feel unwelcome in their home. And over the years, Danny had become such a staple in their lives that they often jokingly introduced him as their pseudo-adopted son to their friends and guests.

It was amazing how some things didn't change.

Even after everything, the nightly routine didn't falter. Tucker still rambled to his father about some new technological breakthrough, Sam and Angela still talked about their backyard vegetable gardens, and Danny was still the quiet observer, occasionally chiming into whichever conversation grabbed his attention.

It was as if he'd never left.

"So Danny, do you think you'll be back out there soon?" Maurice asked, turning the conversation back to him once more.

Tucker gave him a sideways glance, one that Danny couldn't decipher, but otherwise didn't say anything.

"Soon, hopefully. At—at the rate that I'm…progressing. Hopefully," Danny said.

"You taken your ghost side for a spin yet at least?"

"No." Danny poked at his mashed potatoes, careful to not let his face show his annoyance. "We're being…cautious."

"Well, that makes sense," Angela said. "You don't want to do anything too dangerous while your body is still healing."

Danny wanted to explain how his ectoplasm was actually beneficial to his human side, but he bit his tongue.

"Well, whenever you get the pass from your doctors, we'll be there for you!" Sam said.

"Yeah, 'course," Tucker agreed.

"You'll have a lot less to do now with all those new companies anyway," Angela said.

Danny glanced over at her. "Huh?"

"You know," she continued, waving her fork. "All the new popups in the city. Ghost control is becoming much more popular now. There's even a license that the government developed for people wanting certification for their businesses."

"Ghost control?"

"It's a lot nicer sounding than 'ghost hunting,'" Sam quipped. "But it's basically the same thing."

Something ugly curled in Danny's stomach.

New ghost hunting businesses? In Amity Park?

How had he not heard of this?

Was this yet another thing his parents were keeping from him? Sam and Tucker too? Why had no one told him that other hunters were trying to take over his turf?

"Don't worry 'bout 'em," Tucker said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed at the glare of his mother and offered Danny a cheesy thumbs-up. "They're all idiots. Not nearly as good as you."

"Still, a bit of a break never hurt anyone," Angela said. "Especially with all the college entrance testing and applications coming up soon!"

"Ugh, don't remind me." Tucker made a show of fake gagging, to which Angela rolled her eyes.

"My parents are still hopeful I'll become a lawyer," Sam said.

"In their defense, you would be pretty good at it."

"Oh, shove off, Tuck."

"What do you want to do, Sam? Have you thought about it at all?" Angela asked.

Sam cocked her head, resting her hand under her chin. "I dunno, something with the environment. Somebody needs to do something about climate change if the government won't."

"Very fitting for you, dear! And what about you, Danny? I know you're rather busy right now, but have you given any thought to it lately?"

Before he could answer, Maurice snapped his fingers. "Didn't you want to work for NASA? I bet they'd love to have a half-ghost on board their rockets!"

Danny blinked, once again shaking off the shock of how easily the Foley family adapted to the concept of Danny being not all human.

"I—uh—yeah…" Danny sputtered. "I mean, that's still the goal. I just don't know…with my physiology…"

"Bah!" Maurice waved him off. "What's there not to know? They'd be lucky to have you, kid."

Warmth crept along Danny's skin, and he felt a genuine smile flicker on his lips. "Thanks."

"Whatever, while you losers worry about your careers, I'll be making bank from my computer programmer salary!"

"You have to get into college first, Tucker," Angela said.

"Have you no faith in me, mother?"

Angela took a bite of her food, chewing slowly as her eyes glinted in an unsaid comment.

Tucker blanched. "Okay, okay, I hear ya loud and clear. I solemnly swear that I will study for my next math test. Happy?"

"Very."

Danny snickered, covering his mouth as he did so. He caught Sam's eye, who grinned in return.

Damn, he really had missed simple nights like these. Ones where he didn't have to worry about the Guys in White, PT, his parents, school, or anything else interfering with his life. He could just sit here and have a normal night of banter with his friends and the Foleys.

"There's plenty more food if you want it, dear," Angela said. "Don't be shy!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Foley."

Yeah, this was nice. Maybe he should do this more often.

"We have to think of a plan," Danny said.

"Oh?" Sam tilted her head. "What plan?"

"To get in contact with Frostbite so he can remove my chip."

"Chip?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah, the one in my neck that's blocking off my powers."

Sam gave him an odd look. "Why don't you just ask your parents to remove it?"

Danny huffed and flopped back on Tucker's red and gray rug, staring up at the textured ceiling. The painkiller had worn off and his chest was starting to burn, but the mild stretch he got from lying down felt nice. "Because they won't remove it. I already—I already asked them. Multiple times. They won't…won't do it."

"Did they say why?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Danny made a face. "Said that I wasn't ready. Or something, I don't know. They're scared of Phantom, I think. Just like—just like before."

"That can't be right," Sam said. "Danny, they were stuck in their ways before, but it seems like they've really come around."

"They won't take the chip out, though. That doesn't really sound like coming around to me," Danny said bitterly.

"Well, it sounds like they just don't think you're ready for Phantom. I'm sure they're collaborating with your doctors—"

"What do you mean, ready?"

Sam looked thoroughly uncomfortable. "You know, I mean your physical health. You're still in PT, and—"

"Why are you defending them?"

Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance.

"What?" Danny asked, annoyed.

Tucker diverted his gaze, and Sam just sighed.

"Danny…" she started.

Danny really didn't like that tone she was using.

"You haven't been home for that long. You're still healing."

"And?"

"Well…"

Danny sat up, deciding he didn't want to hear whatever excuse she was trying to dance around her feelings with. "What about you, Tuck? Why—why so quiet? You can't agree with them."

Tucker pointedly refused to make eye contact.

"Come on." Danny heard the tension in his voice. "You're my—my best friend. You can't…you're gonna help me, right?"

Tucker's eyes flickered up to the ceiling. Finally, he breathed out, though that didn't help his tone sound any less stiff. "Danny, don't you think it's a little soon?"

"Soon? It's fucking December."

"I know, but—"

"The Guys in White had me in July."

"Right, I get that, but I mean…I don't know, you know what I'm saying, dude, right?"

No. Danny did not know what he was saying. And he couldn't hold back the mix of disbelief and anger in his voice when he responded with, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Sam opened her mouth, arms poised to backtrack, but Danny wasn't having it. "You both—you guys both—you're siding with them?"

"Now, hang on, Danny—"

"You both know me! You—you guys used to encourage me to embrace my ghost half! But now…but now you're side—siding with my fucking parents?"

"Danny, just listen to us," Sam said. "We're not siding with them. I personally think it's wrong to keep Phantom from you, and I know Tucker feels the same."

"So then what's the issue?"

"What we're trying to say is that we don't think, with everything going on, that it's a good idea for you to go behind their back on this one so soon. You nearly died, Danny. It's way more complicated than it used to be."

Danny felt his eyes flare. He may still have had some trouble processing speech, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew backtracking when he saw it.

"Phantom is me. I don't—I don't care that he makes my parents uncomfortable. I can't just…bury him because it's hard for them. I thought you guys understood that."

"We do understand!" Sam insisted.

"No, you obviously don't."

"But if you are having conflict," Sam continued as if Danny hadn't refuted her. "Then you need to bring it up at therapy! That's what it's there for!"

Danny couldn't help but laugh sardonically. "Oh, that's fucking rich coming from—from you, the one who has such healthy communication standards at—at home!"

"Come on, guys." Tucker looked pained. "Don't do this."

"What's your goddamn problem, Danny?"

"My problem is all of you! You're all keeping things from me—"

"Keeping things? Us? Danny, we've been on your side this entire time!"

"My parents with the—the court case. And—and the freaking core, how nobody wants me…apparently, nobody wants me to have—to have my core! And now you two with the whole ghost control business thing!"

"What?" Tucker asked. "Us with the what?"

"You know, the government ghost control!"

"You mean those popup businesses?"

"Yes, those fucking things!"

"Because we didn't think that mattered, Danny!" Sam said in an exasperated tone. "It's not like it's the first time some stupid untrained ghost hunters have moved into this town. You had more important things to worry about—"

Danny knew that by now his eyes were fully glowing. "That's just it! That's the fucking problem!"

"What?"

"This all is!" The itch to stand up and pace around the room had never been so strong. "You—you all are! Everyone's deciding for me and keep—keeping the truth from me because you think I can't handle it!"

"That's not true."

"It is true! You're all cutting me out—"

Sam guffawed. "Us cutting you out? Oh, that's rich."

"Guys, stop."

"No, please continue. I would love to hear the truth for once!" Danny spat out.

"Oh, you want the truth?" Sam said, finally rearing her glare at Danny. "You want the truth but apparently you couldn't even be bothered to come to us when you hit rock bottom! Do you even know what that was like? To find out that your best friend tried to kill himself at school from Dash of all people?"

"Sam!" Tucker hissed.

Danny saw red, and then his vision was blanketed in green.

How dare she bring that up when he had worked so hard to forget about it.

"Dash spent years tormenting us!" Sam continued. "And yet he and the rest of his fucking friends had to be the ones to tell us what happened! Even beyond just that, we don't know anything about the Guys in White that's not secondhand information because you won't tell us!"

"Jeez, I'm so fucking sorry that I had a psychotic break with Dash and not you. Next time I'll be sure to plan it around your fucking—"

"That's not the point, Danny! The point is that you don't trust us. We're your best friends and we care about you and want to be there for you but that's impossible when you shut us off but let people like Dash in!"

"Well, I'll let Dash know he can join the fucking club, then! Along with Vlad and the Guys in White and all—all of my other fucking enemies who now know more about me than anyone I actually give a shit about!"

"If you would just talk to us—"

"Vlad? What's Vlad got to do with this?" Tucker cut in, his brow furrowed. When he looked up at Danny, his eyes were piercing. "What did Vlad do?"

"Nothing! I don't know!" Danny yelled, throwing his hands up. "He's Vlad, what do you expect?"

"Danny, does Vlad know something? About what happened? Like, with the government?"

Danny's mouth snapped shut, and he was sure his glare was bright enough to cook an egg.

"You're kidding." Sam laughed, her voice full of tired vitriol. She dragged her hand over her eyes. "You're fucking kidding me. You don't trust us, but Vlad knows everything. That's fantastic, Danny, what a great support system you have."

"Shut up. You don't know what happened."

"But Vlad does?" Sam crossed her arms defensively. "Since he knows so much, why bother coming to us about the chip at all? Why not ask him for advice?"

"Oh yeah, because I obviously wanted him to find out everything! Are you really that stupid?"

"Guys, calm down—"

"Then fucking talk to us! We weren't there, we don't know what the hell happened!"

"Exactly! You weren't the one who spent weeks dying in—dying in a fucking cell surrounded by your own blood and piss!" Danny yelled.

The room was deathly silent.

"You weren't there. You have no idea—no idea what it was…you have no idea."

Sam looked stricken. She knelt down on the floor and lightly clasped Danny's hand between her own. "Danny, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

Danny tugged his hand out from her grip. She didn't fight it.

"Just forget it," he said. Exhaustion washed over him, and he debated asking to leave.

"I'm sorry," said Sam. "I'm just frustrated, and I feel useless."

Danny knew a way she could feel less useless, but he bit his tongue.

Sam sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to yell."

"Danny, I think what Sam is trying to say is that we miss you a lot. And we really want to be there for you. You're our best friend, you know? Sometimes it feels like you're closing off and…we're not trying to pressure you, but we just can't help you if we don't know what's going on."

Well, that was too bad for them because Danny was never going to tell the full story.

Never.

He just wanted a normal life, he just wanted his friends back. The friends who didn't treat him like a delicate flower, friends who didn't give him pitying looks every time they saw him. Why would he risk giving that up over clueing them into the hell he'd gone through?

Especially since he already had a support system to deal with it. He had done the trauma processing in therapy, he had retold the story of the vivisection, the story of his spine injury, the story of being starved, beaten, electrocuted.

Sure, he wasn't perfect, maybe he'd left a few things out along the way, but he was already dealing with this. Why involve more people? Why make this more difficult than it had to be?

Sam and Tucker would never look at him the same way again. Not if they knew what was in the red bag, not if he explained what Operative O's little pet name for him really meant. Not if he told them about why the nerves in his chest were so damaged, not if he admitted to them that it wasn't a surgery the Guys in White had done to get his core, that it was a vivisection, that he had been conscious for parts of it, that they hadn't given him pain medication or anesthesia before they started.

He couldn't…he couldn't…

He blinked, his brain snapping back to reality.

"I know…" he said slowly, mulling over how best to make them drop the topic. "I know I'm being…secretive. But I'm just not ready. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, dude. We understand, don't we, Sam?"

Sam nodded, her head held low, bangs covering her eyes.

"When you are ready, though, we'll be here."

"Thanks." The words tasted sour on his lips.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

"It's fine."

Though, it really wasn't. Because now he knew that Sam and Tucker weren't going to help him. And without their help, getting in touch with Frostbite was essentially futile.

Without Frostbite, he couldn't get the chip out. He would be stuck like this, a ghost blocked from its own core, completely trapped and at the mercy of his ghost-hunter parents who didn't seem at all worried about what that was doing to him.

Sam and Tucker may not have agreed with his parents, but his friends' actions aligned with theirs too. Like his parents, they didn't trust him. And because of this, he couldn't trust them in return.

But it was fine. He could handle this on his own. He didn't need to panic.

Not yet.

Sam, 12/06, 7:55am: Hey Danny. I feel really awful for what happened last night at Tucker's, and I just wanted to apologize. It was never my intention to pressure you into doing something you weren't comfortable with. You're my best friend, and I just know that there's a lot you're still holding inside. Even if you never feel okay to tell us what happened, I hope that you'll be able to confide in someone. In the meantime, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, no matter the time of day, I'm here.

Sam, 12/06, 7:57am: I'm serious though, we have your back. Nothing will ever change that.

Read, 7:57am

The action's starting to pick up now, and I'm very excited to start publishing the scenes I've been planning/drafting for like...ages lol. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and enjoy the rest of the fic! Let me know your predictions for the rest of the story, I'm so curious!

Thanks to imekitty for being my beta!

Thanks for reading!