The night had deepened into a thick black that still didn't quite seem to seep all light away from the land, although it tried desperately. Danny noticed this just before the ghost woman stopped crying, saving him the trouble of having to overcome his unease and ask her to leave, or back off.

"I'm so sorry," She managed to choke out, as she sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I didn't mean to…I…how old are you anyway? Thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Danny nodded, and managed a wary smile as he backed away. She suddenly froze, and he could almost see the gears working in her head as she turned to look at him slowly.

"Does…" she began, but cut off with a strangled choke before re-starting. "Does this mean Marsha and Lars are…they're…"

Danny winced. "Yes," he said simply, not knowing what else to say. He tried to prepare himself for the worst, and failed miserably. If she had been mourning before, then he did not know what to call the look that settled onto her eyes now. He had never seen what he could truly call a feeling compared to this. The unmistakable pain and hear-tearing agony reflecting in her now dull eyes would haunt his thoughts until the day he died, and probably beyond. He could only hope that it would not remain with him forever, because the thought alone sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't help but look away.

She did not shed a tear this time, although Danny didn't know if it was due to the fact that she had no more to cry, or if the pain ran too deeply. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Why are you looking for her?"

Danny blinked and looked back. "Huh?"

The woman looked up with an empty expression that almost hid the anguish still pouring from her eyes. "Marsha. You're looking for Marsha. Why?"

"Oh, right," Danny nodded and rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly. What could he tell her that wouldn't hurt her more deeply before she got the chance to heal even a little? He didn't think he could bear to hurt her anymore right now, and he didn't know how she would take his "story". "Because…if I find her, I can find my sister," he nodded with a satisfied smile.

She blinked at him. "So you sister is…?"

"Dead?" Danny finished, immediately regretting doing so due to her wincing at the word. "Er…no."

"So," she cocked her head, "then why…?"

Danny sighed. "It's a long story."

"I appear to have plenty of time," the sadness intensified in her expression again, as did Danny's own discomfort.

"Um…I don't," he replied. "I have to get home…like A.S.A.P., so…" he faded off, not really knowing what to say that would be able to get him outta there.

"I'll come with you," she finished, and rose from her position, brushing herself off as if she'd gotten sand or dust on her while waiting in the wind.

Danny suddenly realized what she'd said. "WHAT!" he shrieked.

She looked up. "Now that I know who I am, I feel I must seek out my children." He couldn't argue with her there. How could he deny her even that simple joy?

"I…I-I…" he stuttered.

"Would you rather I stay here?" She gestured to her surroundings. "Walking on a beach for the rest of my life? Or death…or you understand."

Danny shook his head as a sad smile crossed his face. "I guess not," he said. He wanted to slap himself, or kick himself, or shoot something…but nothing came to mind so he simply sighed, and tried to move past his uncomfortable situation by holding out his hand. "I don't know if you can fly, so…" he gestured for her to take it. "Although, as a ghost, you should be able to."

Danny couldn't' blame the look of skepticism she gave him. Here he was, a fifteen-year-old ghost boy who was offering his hand to help her, an older woman who could have been his mom, but certainly capable of moving around on her own…or so she thought. To her credit, she took it.

"I'll let you come on one condition:" he said as the thought came to him. "On the way, before I give you my story, you tell me yours first." She looked down for a second, as if weighing the options, then shrugged and nodded.

"Very well," was all she said. Danny smiled, and took off as gently as he could, feeling her start and tense.

"I don't know how to tell you to fly," he said over his shoulder as he moved up wards, towards the top of the cliff. "Just think of a wonderful thought," he smiled weakly to himself. Peter Pan was another one of his favorite movies. Now he'd have to watch it when he got home.

He'd almost reached the summit, when he heard her scream, which startled him enough that he almost let go.

"What's wrong!" He asked, looking back. She clung to his hand and stared as if she couldn't take her eyes off of the crashing, black waves below.

"That's…that's what I've really been walking on…all this time…I…oh…" she quickly tore her eyes away and put a hand to her head."

"Actually," Danny mentally made himself relax and continue up the cliff, "We were both sitting about fifty feet above that, but…" he shrugged and looked back with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

She took her hand away from her head, and a look of determination crossed her face. "I believe I can," he heard her whisper to herself, and she let go. Adrenalin (or the ectoplasmic equivalent) rushed through his veins as he immediately turned to catch her, only to find her floating with a pale face (even for a ghost) right where she'd been only moments before. He smiled and nodded approvingly.

She gulped, closed her eyes, and headed unsteadily towards the land.

"So," he said as he also turned back to the cliff-face. "Where were you born?"