Hello there. I did not get as much written as I wanted to the last few days, so I've completely burnt through my buffer. It is possible that I'll be able to write enough today to get it back, but if not I'm probably going to take another break tomorrow. Sorry about that.

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Chapter 26: Pull the Loose Thread

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"Talk to me?" echoed Danny. "Privately?" He glanced at the knot of people around the (potential) bathroom doorways. "B-but what about ev-everyone else? Won't it be risky to leave them alone? Sh-shouldn't we stay with them?" There was a noticeable tremor in his voice as he asked the questions. What did Mr Lancer know? What did he think he knew?

"We'll stay within shouting distance," said Mr Lancer. "Not to mention sight. In any case, it was my impression that you thought we were safe here. Was I mistaken?"

Danny shook his head violently. "No!" he said. "Of course not." He glanced towards Sam, Tucker, and Jazz for support. They hadn't run off to investigate the (potential) bathrooms.

Sam gave him a minute shrug. She would go along with whatever he decided. Tucker frowned, but only tilted his head to one side. He didn't like this, but he wasn't going to stop Danny if he chose to talk to Mr Lancer. Jazz gave Danny a tiny nod. She wanted him to talk to Mr Lancer, but she was still worried.

A little calmer now, Danny examined his teacher. Mr Lancer looked worn. More than worn, really. He looked as exhausted as Danny felt (almost). But underneath that exhaustion, and a careful mask of neutrality, there was concern. Concern and... Was that calculation? Yes. Calculation, like he was trying to put together a puzzle. Calculation, but not suspicion. Between his frequent 'bathroom' breaks, his occasional academic shenanigans, and general odd behavior, Danny had been on the receiving end of Mr Lancer's suspicion often enough to tell the difference.

This was not good. In fact, it was something like the opposite of good. Mr Lancer was not an idiot, for all that he had been stuck as the vice principal of Casper High for something longer than forever. If Mr Lancer knew, he could destroy Danny's life within minutes, seconds, once they got back to Amity Park. It would only take a sentence to the GIW, to the news, to Valerie, or even to his parents, if he was being honest with himself, and just like that, his life, his human life, would be over. What was left of it, anyway.

Beyond that, considering Danny's current, physical condition (aka bad), even an overweight, sedentary teacher like Mr Lancer was a potential threat. Not a serious threat, Danny had more than a passing familiarity with martial arts, but still a threat.

On the other hand, Danny couldn't detect any hostility. What's more, although Mr Lancer had not necessarily always been kind to Danny, he had always been supportive. Danny knew that he deserved far more detentions than he received, and Mr Lancer went out of his way to give him extra credit assignments, and to help him understand lessons that he missed. Danny liked Mr Lancer.

"What you want to talk about..." started Danny slowly. "Is it okay if my friends stay?" He included Jazz in his gesture.

Mr Lancer blinked, but Danny got the impression that he wasn't surprised. "I suppose Mr Foley and Miss Manson know all your secrets?"

"Most of them," admitted Danny. "Jazz is the only one that knows all the embarrassing ones from before I was five."

"Alright," said Mr Lancer, sighing through his nose. "Earlier, you said that your role on the team was that of a record keeper?"

"Um. Yes. I also do some of the, um, science," said Danny, wondering where this was going. "And Jazz and I both do equipment."

"I also do psych and psyops," said Jazz, helpfully. "That is, I cover for the others, when they have to go, and analyze our enemies."

"I do tech," said Tucker. Apparently they were going the 'swamp Mr Lancer with information and hope he gets confused' route. "That is, normal, non-ghostly tech, and anything to do with programming and signals. And I've got first aid training. Well, we all do, but Phantom says that I'm the best at stitches."

"Stitches?" said Mr Lancer, looking faintly ill.

"Well, yeah, even with superpowers, those fights are brutal," said Tucker. "He doesn't get off scott free. Not all ghosts are made of putty."

"And you Miss Manson?"

Oh, good, it looked like the distraction technique was working. With any luck, he will have forgotten his original intent by the time Sam finishes her answer.

"I'm backup combat," said Sam. "I'm best with the weapons. Don't even try to argue, Tucker."

"Wasn't going to," protested Tucker.

"I'm also the occult expert, since I was kind of into that stuff even before the Fentons decided to punch reality in the face."

"I really wish you'd stop describing it like that," said Danny.

"They also punched common sense, and I think it's been avoiding the whole family ever since."

"Hey," complained Danny, halfheartedly.

"Don't fret, Danny. She's just jealous of our uncommon sense."

Despite himself, Danny snickered. Even Mr Lancer smiled a little. Gosh, that was a terrible pun. Not that Danny had any room to talk.

But then Mr Lancer's expression faded back into that half-concealed concern. "Daniel," he said, "if that's all you've been doing for Phantom, why are you, more than Miss Manson and Mr Foley, always skipping class?"

Well, heck. There it was. The thread. The thing that he had been forgetting. The flaw in their otherwise brilliant (note: sarcasm) lie.

Perfect.

"Phantom needs backup, sometimes," said Danny.

"From the team record keeper?"

"Hey, he's kind of scatterbrained. Forgets who he's fighting half the time."

Mr Lancer looked skeptical. "Daniel," he said finally, "I know that you don't want to hear this, that you don't want to answer these questions, especially when they're coming from me, but as a teacher, I have responsibilities to my students." He took a deep breath, as if he was steeling himself. "How long have you-?" He paused, seeming to reconsider something mid-sentence. "How long," he said more carefully, "have you been Phantom?"

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz drew closer to Danny. Closing ranks. They were ready to protect him. Heck, judging by the way her fists were balled, Sam was ready to attack Mr Lancer, if it became necessary. He hoped it wouldn't. He hoped that he could get out of this by playing dumb.

"You mean, how long has he been overshadowing me? Only since we've been here."

Pity and guilt briefly rippled across Mr Lancer's face. "We both know that isn't what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" snapped Danny.

"You are Phantom," said Mr Lancer gently. "The accident you had in the portal... I would say that it killed you, but..." His eyes flickered up and down Danny. "I know you have a pulse. I know you breathe. The school nurse isn't that incompetent. It changed you, somehow. That's what that shadow was trying to get at. How isn't important. Daniel- Danny. Jasmine. I need to know: are you safe at home? Do your parents..." Mr Lancer trailed off, clearly unsure how to phrase his next question.

For his part, Danny was unsure how to answer. Mr Lancer was the second human to find out (Danny didn't count Vlad or Danielle) and he wanted to know... What? If they were being abused? Neglected? What did you even count not realizing that your child has died as? Neglect, probably. Except that Danny was still walking around, and trying his very best to keep them from knowing. What did you count trying to capture and experiment on your child as? Abuse, probably. Except that they had genuinely not known that they were shooting at a sentient being, much less Danny. Danny hadn't blamed them for any of it, until the assembly.

But now... Actually, not realizing, or outright ignoring, that ghosts were sentient, sapient, feeling beings was pretty bad.

Making those two things, the Mortifier, and that hopefully permanently nameless abomination, was worse. Much worse.

Complicating this was the outright relief Danny was feeling. He hadn't expected to feel relief, but there it was. It was like a great weight had been taken off his shoulders. Mr Lancer knew. Mr Lancer knew, and he didn't think that Danny was an abomination, wasn't calling him a freak, was making an effort to understand, and help him, in his own, awkward way.

"They don't know," said Danny.

"That's obvious," said Mr Lancer. "That wasn't what I was going to ask. They hurt you, Daniel. Badly. Even I can see that. How often do things like this happen?"

"Never," said Danny, quickly. "This is the first time anything like this has happened."

"This is the first time that something this bad has happened," corrected Jazz, gently, "and that's only if you don't count the portal accident."

Mr Lancer, whose eyes had turned to Jazz as she spoke, looked back at Danny. "I need to know," he begged. "Are you safe at home?"

Danny's eyes darted between Jazz and Mr Lancer. He wished he could say 'yes' without lying. Before last summer (the number of inventions they had tested in July had been unreal), he could have, but even back then, he had probably been deluding himself. It would have been fine if he was fully human. Probably. Jazz did get hit with stuff, too. But he wasn't, and his parents really should have picked up on how some of their inventions did hurt Danny.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked finally. "You can't tell anyone about this. About any of this. The Guys in White would hunt me to the ends of the Earth if they knew about me, and getting child services involved... I know they do health checks, and not all of my vitals are, well, vital." Danny bit his lip. "Most of what we said before was the truth. Just... edited."

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Daniel. I just want you to be safe. I-" He stopped, and smiled ruefully. "Perhaps this is not the right time or place." He sighed. "Still, if there's anything I can do to help-"

"Can you make pancakes?"