Disclaimer: I don't own DP. Or the Exorcist.

Thanks to starwater09, Alden Kessler, Dareeen, Crystalmoon39, Invader Johnny, Guest, Margot-Eve, Africanvintage, ZoneRobotnik, KimiruMai, Trish, SweetestChick, Guest, Guest, Guest, and Guest (wow, a lot of Guests) for reviewing last time! I really appreciate all the support and that I didn't scare you all off with the new M-rating and that you gave me really sweet well-wishes about my health. You're all amazing. Of course, you probably all knew that.

Okay, so I have something a bit radical planned for this time, which I had alluded to at the end of the Valentine thread. I hope you enjoy!

Shot Summary: A universe crossover between Aftermath and Dan's Secret VALentine Plans. Clockwork temporarily takes the Ghost King Dan Phantom and Queen Valerie Gray's baby and places him in the hands of a Dan and Val from another universe. Parental crises abound.

Warnings: Eh, this is fairly T-rated with the exception of some violent imagery and somewhat mature conversation content.


Deliverance

Shot 34: When Worlds Collide (Aftermath/Valentine Crossover)


The dreaded Ghost King Phantom was unstable. Revealing to Valerie that he was the remains of Daniel Fenton had stirred up old emotions, old frustrations. The feeling of Valerie's willing touch when he had taken on a human form sat heavily against him, and the feeling of her sharp recoil at his true skin made his face twist.

Something was broken and wrong between them. Whatever desire Valerie might have had for him once—it was for a soul he no longer had.

That bothered him.

He began pacing the throne room, then grew irritated with the silence. Valerie was not at his side, holding their baby with love and enjoying the power and authority he'd granted her. She was obviously incorrigible and irrational and damn that he desired her with unchangeable fibers in his being.

Dan's eyes began to glow hot in building anger and pain and hurt. He could not stand the silence. The claustrophobia of knowing that she was only halls away but so seemingly out of reach.

He stormed up into the air and left the castle in search of an old-fashioned massacre of another dimension in the Ghost Zone. He'd make the lairs quake, the ancient structures tumble to ash. He'd force the obedient ones to bow to him in glorious fear. The thought only slightly alleviated his anxiety.

The King decided he would not return until he'd burnt away all the frustration and every reminder of his past as Daniel Fenton. It was the only way to move forward. He knew, on some instinctive level, he'd already taken out enough frustrations on his Queen. She could no longer gaze at him without deep pain and suspicion.

And it burned him. Oh, it burned him.


Valerie pressed shaking fingers to her temples, her ringlet curls loose and frizzy down her shoulders. Her free hand touched her still-distended stomach, and she suddenly began to chill, then grow too warm. "What is this?" she moaned to herself, feeling nauseated. She sat down at the edge of her bed in a daze. It seemed with every passing hour, her minor aches and pains were blooming into something else entirely. Her mouth felt dry.

She began to sweat, her heart pounding. It was all she could do to untie the straps of her dress and slip back under the covers of her bed. Her thoughts were beginning to fragment, the fading stitches in her body beginning to burn…

By the time Dora arrived, Valerie was limbless in bed.

"Hello, dear!" Dora called out cheerfully, trying to keep her presence positive. She'd known for the last day that Valerie had dropped into an anxious, sullen depression over the King. "How are you this evening? I came to bring you some delicious fruits and the cold meats of a—"

Valerie cracked open a bloodshot eye, and her entire body turned in nausea at the sight of food. She groaned. "—Don't feel good," she said blearily, burrowing into her blankets.

Dora set down the food tray, her pleasant smile dropping by several fractions. "Oh? Tell me, dear. What is wrong?"

Valerie did not answer.

Dora lightly touched her hand against Valerie's forehead. Although the human female was usually much warmer than a ghost, she was now even more so. Dora pulled her hand back, almost as if she'd been burned.

She eyed Valerie in deepening concern. "I think you have a fever. Is that why you haven't come out at all today?"

Valerie glared tiredly at the ghost. In truth, she'd hardly left her room because she had not wanted to see Dan in any capacity. Her thoughts were a blank mess of pain about him because now she knew he was Danny.

Dora's face turned downward in motherly disapproval. "Dear, you really should have said something before now about being ill." She pulled back, pressing her lips together in thought. "If you have a fever, I do not think you should nurse Jax tonight. I shall return with medical assistance."

Valerie blinked, her maternal side pulling at her. "But what about Jax?" she complained. "He can't eat anything yet."

"And if you're ill, it would not do to pass anything to him," Dora said lightly, voice still tinged with warning. "For now, let's work on getting you better."

But soon enough, Valerie's condition worsened. Sweat beaded down her temples as she lay motionless in her bed. Deep pains were wracking through her now—and suddenly, it was all she could think of, that the pain simply would not stop.

Tears began to burn down her cheeks, her mind breaking.

Too much. Everything was too much.


A short while later, Dora floated anxiously while a castle servant latched up a medical kit. The door to Valerie's room was closed, and they were alone in the hall. The skeleton admitted quietly, "We do not know exactly what is wrong. An infection from giving birth. Maybe sepsis." He had a nervous tick in his bones, his fingers tapping a box of medical supplies. "Such an illness would require a human medication they call antibiotics, but those do not have much of a shelf life. What we raided from the fallen human cities—it's years old. It could kill her to take it, and I do not understand how to make such things. With every hour that passes without medication, the Queen's life could be increasingly in danger."

Dora began to fret in very real fear. "Oh, no," she said, biting her lip. "No, that will not do. This is the Queen. She cannot die. The King would have all of our heads."

The skeleton nodded, but said nothing.

Dora asked, "Can we get a message to the King? Perhaps he knows something about human medicine—or maybe he knows someone with healing abilities?"

"The King is…away. We were instructed not to follow him."

"Then find him," Dora pleaded. "This is the Queen who could be dying. And if she cannot nurse Prince Jaxon, then he could starve here. I would rather face the King's wrath than face what he would do if he returned to a dead wife and dying baby."

The skeleton looked halfway panicked. "B-but…the King has disappeared to the farthest reaches of the Ghost Zone. We can send scouts, but we might not be able to bring him back tonight, or even three days from now. None of us have his power."

Dora began to panic. "No. We need help. Send out the scouts and try to bring him back here. In the meantime, see if you can't also find a new mother who could function as a wet nurse."

The skeleton scoffed. "A new mother? Here, in the Ghost Zone?" His creaking voice raised. "How many ghosts do you know who are willing to submit to time and aging to be mothers?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know, but we need to try. Even if there's just one—we could offer a handsome reward for nursing the Prince while the Queen recovers. It is either that or feeding him pure ectoplasm. I don't know what that would do to him."

The skeleton warned, "The Prince might not be capable of tolerating that. But I suppose you could try. It might be our best option to keep him alive, should the Queen—"

Dora nodded tentatively, cutting him off for fear of hearing the word die. "—Yes, alright. I'll try it. Let me know as soon as you can about reaching the King."

"Of course."

The skeleton began to fly away, the medical supplies leaving with him. Dora stared at the closed door to Valerie's room—the dark swirls almost an omen that the entire Phantom dynasty was in a downward spiral. She began to fret, flying forward to locate some simple ectoplasm and a cloth.


Sometime later found Dora floating before Jax's dark cradle. The tiny Prince was tired and worn, his blue eyes searching. He knew instinctively that something was wrong—he was not in his mother's lap, and his stomach had begun to hurt with the awful gnaw and gurgle of hunger.

He whined up at Dora, fighting against the blankets to reach for her.

"I know, my Prince," she said nervously, pained at his pain. With gentle hands, she reached down into the cradle and lifted him up into her arms. She'd grown attached to him, just as she had Valerie Gray.

The baby grabbed onto the collar of her dress, then reached up to touch her face. His small whines were pathetic as he stared up at her with those big, blue eyes. Feed me, he seemed to beg.

She readjusted him in her one arm, then reached for the white cloth she'd brought with her. She dipped a bunched edge into the small bowl of pure ectoplasm, then raised it to Jax's starving mouth, brushing the liquid against his lips. He latched on instinctively, sucking on the cloth. And then he seemed to realize that this was unnatural and that something was wrong—he pulled his head away, ectoplasm dribbling down his heavy cheek. He began to cough, then gurgle in desperation for air.

Dora threw the cloth to the floor in panic. "Oh no, no, no," she said, patting him on the back. "Please tell me I did not poison you."

Jax's face twisted in unease as he began to cry and gurgle up more ectoplasm. Tears began to enter his eyes as he looked up at her in almost betrayal.

"I don't know what to do," she cried in apology. "Your mother cannot possibly nurse you now. We have nothing but this. Please do not die—" She patted his back a bit more, readjusting him as his gurgles turned back to coughs and whines. Dora began to cry, feeling entirely worthless. "I am sorry; please don't cry."

And then a deep, old voice boomed softly in the room. "Perhaps you could use assistance?" the voice said.

The ghost woman wheeled around in surprise, and then her red eyes widened. For a time, she stood in shock. And then she whispered, "…Clockwork?"

The Master of Time raised an old brow. "In the flesh," he admitted dryly. He appeared as an old man, his blue face and black scar over his eye worn with wrinkles, his red eyes clouded. "I hope you do not mind the intrusion."

Dora began to cry in relief. "No, no. Master of Time—please, I need your help. The Queen is deathly ill, and the Prince is starving, and the King is gone—!"

"—I know," he said, although not unkindly. "That is why I am here."

The ghost woman asked in desperation, "Can you recall the King? Bring him back?"

Clockwork tiled his head. "I suppose I could, but he has no resources for this. He would only create more problems, as he usually does."

Dora did not dispute the Master of Time, who knew more things than any other ghost. Instead, she fell respectfully quiet, cradling the unhappy baby close. "What should I do?"

Clockwork released his scepter, and it dematerialized into the nothing of the air. "I wish to hold the son of the Ghost King and the Ghost Slayer."

The woman blinked in surprise. The Master of Time would wish such a thing? Would he kill the baby?

The powerful ghost seemed to know her thoughts. "I have no intentions to harm the Prince," he added, his aged voice a comforting boom that soothed the strain of the air.

And so Dora tentatively walked up to the powerful being. Her voice was guilty with embarrassment. "I meant no offense; it's just…many would hurt the Prince if it meant weakening the King."

"I hold no love for the Ghost King's reign," Clockwork admitted freely. "But I would not sacrifice a baby to stop him."

She shifted the whining baby in her arms, and Clockwork stooped forward. His purple robes shifted as he moved, his cool, aged hands sliding beneath the child to pull him to himself. Jax fell entirely silent, bewildered by the stranger.

"Hello," Clockwork murmured in greeting. "Prince Jaxon Alexander Gray of the Phantom Dynasty." He gently held the baby. Jax's blue eyes were wide with awe at the different face before him, his lips pursed in delighted puzzlement.

"I knew you," Clockwork said, voice softening, "before you were born." He ran blue fingers down the child's face, wiping away a small smear of ectoplasm, and his lips twitched at the sound of an infant giggle. "And you will come to know me, in the future."

Jax nestled into the soft fabric of Clockwork's sleeves, cooing in happiness. On some instinctive level, he knew the being holding him was not a threat, but rather something of a grandfather. The pulse of Clockworks' strong power core was a lullaby against his ear, calming the small light of his own core.

"I heard your stomach gnawing at itself," the ghost declared softly, turning away to cradle the child. He had not held a baby in centuries. "I heard it all the way from my lair."

The baby giggled, a toothless smile stretching across his heavy cheeks.

"And I heard the struggling breaths of your mother," Clockwork added, the line of softness fading from his mouth. "She is very ill."

Dora stepped forward and asked hesitantly, "Master of Time, could you reverse this day?" And then she dared to ask, clasping her hands together, "Or all of this? The Queen is so miserable. The King is—"

"—I know what Valerie Gray has endured as a result of Phantom's insanity," Clockwork said, turning to her. His expression was very grave. "She has deserved none of this. But I am afraid I cannot alter the past without creating even more dire circumstances. I can only intervene on the future."

Dora bit her lip. "And what will you do? How can you help us?"

Clockwork glanced back down at the baby in his arms, knowing the years of trials yet to come for the child. His heart ached tiredly. "The human civilizations in this world are diminished—but in another world, they are not. I shall take the Prince to that world to be cared for, and I shall also take with me a vial of Valerie Gray's blood. The doctors will be able to create an antidote there."

That seemed to put the ghost woman into a fret. "Another world?" she whispered. "I don't understand—that seems awfully far away, and if the King were to return with the Prince missing—"

"—He will not return before I do," Clockwork said easily. "Your King is indulging his bloodlusts on a wasteland. He is too…frustrated to return quickly."

"B-but Jax has never been outside the castle!" Dora argued respectfully. "And he's half-human. Humans can be very cruel to ghosts. Who would care for him in this strange world you know?"

At that, Clockwork's thin, blue lips raised. "Why, Phantom and Valerie Gray, of course."

Dora blinked. "…What?"


Somewhere across the quantum fields of probability, threaded deep in an adjacent universe, was Dan Phantom. This particular Dan Phantom was childless, his mouth far less set in a dark line of insanity.

His calm, red eyes surveyed the empty, dark land before him as he floated above it, his hair flickering about his face. "Hmm," he said, tilting his head. It seemed his new power, which he had deemed a ghostly Wail, was incredibly destructive to natural earth life. The snow banks of a mid-March storm had been shredded into specks, the earth of the uninhabited plains twisted into scarred and splattered mud. Everything was destroyed in its path.

"Valerie will love this," he said, a dark and mischievous smile twisting his face.

It'd been two weeks since he'd left Amity Park. He had previously infiltrated its Shield, wearing a human disguise to seduce Valerie and get rid of her stalker, Nathan Green. Valerie, for all of her attraction to Dan, had remained unfortunately moral about everything. Even to the point of demanding that he stop killing humans, with a threat over his head that not doing so would result in her ending her trysts with "D," his human disguise, forever.

And so here he was, testing a new power out on nothing but empty earth. Which was excessively less exciting than testing it out on some poor human civilization, listening to all the screams—

"—Perhaps I might still subdue humans through intimidation," he murmured, scratching his chin. He had still not quite figured out how to run empires without killing. He had a deep fear that, at least for the duration of Valerie's life, he would simply have to make do with terrorizing other ghosts.

His head tilted with a new thought. With this power… "I suppose I could pursue the title of Ghost King." His red eyes darkened in sudden calculation. "Take over Pariah Dark's lairs. Subdue the entire Ghost Zone. Have entire dimensions kneel before me." A twisted smile reappeared on his face. "Valerie would find that quite advantageous as well, with fewer ghosts to bother her…It would be a relative compensation for allowing Amity—"

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted.

His ghost sense went off, and a sudden swell of an ectoplasmic signature unlike any other rammed into him. His muscles tightened up.

He knew that signature inherently.

The open air began to twist with a portal. And from out of it flew forth the aged version of Clockwork, the Master of Time, his face grim. A bundle of black blankets with silver embroidery hung from his arms.

"Dan Phantom," he greeted.

The younger ghost immediately became defensive. His eyes lit to a hot orange, and he activated his powers, his fingertips glowing with ectoplasmic energy. "Clockwork," he sneered. "What an unpleasant surprise."

"Yes," the Master of Time said mildly, "it is."

"Get out of here," Dan demanded, raising his chin in challenge. "Your meddling into my affairs is unwanted."

At that, the ghost's lips twitched. "Is it?"

And before Dan could respond, an odd sound hit him. Suddenly, he felt a second ectoplasmic signature when he heard a small baby's whine.

His eyes sharpened onto the bundle of blankets in Clockwork's arms. A look of confusion broke through his anger. "What is that?"

"Me meddling into your affairs," Clockwork retorted. He gently pulled away the top layer of the blanket, exposing a bewildered and starving, unhappy baby. "Quite literally."

Dan's face twisted in even further confusion. Though the child appeared human, it had the same blue eyes he himself once had. And it had an ecto-signature he could feel. He began to float back, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, quite literally? Why have you brought some infant to me?"

Clockwork deadpanned, "Because it is yours. In another world adjacent to this one, Valerie Gray is sick from giving birth to your son. She cannot care for it in her condition, and there is nothing in that world to sustain the child's life without her. I am temporarily placing the baby in your care, as you have access to such resources."

Dan blinked.

Then he blinked again. Something, like a deep consternation, came over him. "What?" he demanded slowly. "My son?"

"Yes," the time ghost nodded. "Your son."

"With Valerie Gray?"

"That is what I said."

And then the younger ghost barked out in a snarl, "That is not possible. Ghosts cannot have children with humans—you are manipulating me for some unknown agenda. You've cast an illusion over that child to make it appear as such."

Clockwork raised a brow. "I am not the one who can cast illusions. And this world's laws are not the laws of other worlds."

"Valerie does not even want children," Dan snapped back.

"And yet, here one is, while she lies in bed dying from an illness no one can treat in her world." Clockwork stooped down and lowered the bundled baby to the cold snow. Jax began to whine in confusion, his arms moving beneath the blankets in disjointed unhappiness. The dark world was cold—even colder than the one from which he had journeyed.

A sudden wind swept back Dan's flickering hair, and something in his face tightened at the sight of the child in pain. "What are you doing?" he demanded, stomping forward.

The infant began to cry, a small arm reaching out to Clockwork as the wind brushed snow against his face. The cold sensation made his cry turn into a shrill scream of fear.

Clockwork pulled away. "This child will die if you do not care for it," he declared, testing Dan's instincts to care for the baby. "He is your only heir."

"And how do I know he is mine?" Dan huffed as he quickly kneeled down beside the baby. Its wild eyes—his blue color, all his own—landed on him, and something seemed to register in the baby's face. It began reaching toward him, small fingers grasping desperately for a familiar face.

Dan tentatively touched the infant's small hand. And then he felt it. The power core—the signature—it carried a similar pulse as his own. Up close, he realized the color of the baby's skin was darker than his own human skin had been, suggesting mixed heritage, and the wiry strands of black hair curled at the ends.

"Valerie," he breathed, a look of awe coming over him. He held the child's hand with a stronger grip, suddenly leaning closer to swaddle up the child into his arms. "Our son—this is—Valerie's—"

Words failed him as the infant, hardly above a newborn, began to quiet, snuggling into him and shivering beneath the blanket.

Dan stared down at the child, looking almost frozen. "How is this possible?" he whispered. His DNA—every piece of him that had longed for an heir—began to interlock with a latent paternal instinct. He wrapped the blankets tighter around the child.

"As I said, different laws in different universes."

Dan's eyes sharpened, suddenly understanding the gravity of the full emergency. "And Valerie?" he breathed. He now trusted Clockwork's information. "In that other world—you said she was dying?"

Clockwork pulled from his sleeve a small vial that sloshed red. "In tandem with protecting this baby, you'll need to present this to the doctor with whom you and Valerie are…allies. He will analyze it and create an antidote. I will then return for the antidote, and then later for the baby."

The younger ghost seemed overwhelmed. "The version of myself, in that world from which you've journeyed. Was there nothing I could do? Why was I not capable of assisting Valerie?"

At that, the Master of Time's lips fell downward. "Believe it or not," he said dryly. "you're even more pointlessly evil in some worlds than you are in this one. There was no longer anyone alive who could assist the mother of your child."

Dan pulled the infant closer to himself, eyeing the time ghost darkly. "That does not make sense," he retorted. "The Valerie of this world will not allow me to touch her if I harmed the hair on any one human."

Clockwork then fell silent and turned away to hide his grimace. If only this Phantom knew the circumstances of Jax's conception. "You have 48 hours," he said. "I will return for Valerie Gray's antidote as soon as it is ready, and the baby in two days."

He began to dematerialize, and Dan's eyes widened in panic. "Wait!" he called, voice strained. It was the closest he'd ever come to a plead in Clockwork's presence.

The tone made the Master of Time pause.

"A name," Dan demanded. "What is my son's name?"

At that, Clockwork sighed gazing at the ghost in a distant sorrow. "It will not do for you to become too attached."

Dan huffed, "Then why did you bring him to me?" He held the infant closer to himself, as if to protect it from being stolen away. "You know of my desire for a child with Valerie. I have every reason to not let go."

The time ghost gazed at his fallen charge, looking tired. "You must understand, this child will return to its world in two days, or you will create a temporal distortion resulting in the annihilation of yourself and the kidnapping or death of the Valerie you know."

Dan sneered, "That is a fear tactic." He leaned his cheek against the baby's head, noting that the baby was still quite cold. He turned his back to the wind, attempting to block it from reaching the child.

"I am not intimidating you," Clockwork said dryly. "I am relaying the truth. Your world was the nearest one with the correct resources to assist in this urgent matter. I was willing to risk temporal distortions to keep the child alive."

"Why?" the younger ghost hissed, floating back from Clockwork in suspicion, his cape waving in the wind. "You have scorned me in every way. Why the hell would you stretch your neck out to save a baby of my blood?"

"Because this child has a significant role to play in its world," Clockwork said, voice even and without fault. "I cannot allow it to die for that reason. And unlike you, I do not allow innocent children to die for sport."

The ghost's face flamed hot in a strange embarrassment, his gloved fingers sinking into the dark blankets. He could recall several days when he'd shot mercilessly into human droves, watching blood spray from children who then stumbled into permanent silence, their small bodies trampled beneath the steps of other panicked families. He'd always laughed at the way mothers and fathers would instinctively turn back to reach for their fallen child, only to become easy targets for him to pick off.

"This shall be a lesson to you," Clockwork said. "In the years to come, you will remember this child, and you will see its face in every human child. You will know the pain of loss that every mother and father in this dimension has felt because of you."

Dan bared his teeth, eyes glowing hot. His pride twisted in a snap. He half-thought to slay Clockwork on the spot. "You dare to lecture me on the value of life," he snarled, "when you yourself stood by and watched them die without saving them. And that you would wave my child before me to manipulate me—oh, you hypocrite. You fucking hypocrite."

Clockwork's face hardened with a sad tightness. "I did not enjoy their deaths. I have thought several times on snuffing your life to save your victims. But you do not understand the future as I do or my reasons for what I do. For now, in this moment, I need you to care for this child and save Valerie Gray."

Phantom fell silent, cradling his child even more protectively. He felt suddenly as if he were a pawn in a much larger scheme of things—that Clockwork always seemed to be in control, somehow. It made him feel claustrophobic. "And if I do not return my son to you in two days?"

"As I said, it would create a temporal distortion that does not favor the continued existence of you or Valerie."

That stopped the violent thoughts he had about slaying Clockwork, but he still glared at the time ghost. "Then at least afford me the name of my son."

"Guarantee me that you will return the child in 48 hours."

"Fine," he snapped. Something in his face was desperate. "A name. His name. Give it to me now. You are wasting the time I might have with him."

Clockwork paused, tilting his head at the pain in Dan's face. "Jaxon Alexander Gray. Jax for short."

And then the Master of Time left Dan Phantom in the middle of the dark, snowy land, holding a vial of Valerie's blood and his shivering son from another universe.


In Valerie's mind, she had somewhat expected the return of "D" to be a suave affair. She imagined the disguised Dan Phantom would slam open doors, storm up to her in his tight jeans and military jacket, grab her by the hips to plant a solid kiss on her mouth, and moan for her ears alone, "Good god, woman, I need you."

She likely figured that her whole body would fire up in nerves that she didn't know existed, and that he'd tease her for her virginal blushes and try to seduce her right in front of everyone. And she'd damn near let him.

She also imagined that he would stay away for an appropriate amount of time so that his cover of "an injured D healing in Australia" would not be questioned.

Instead, she was sitting on her bed only two weeks after having sent him away, reading a military strategy book, and her comm activated. Thinking it was her father, Valerie rolled her eyes tiredly and called forth the arm sleeve of her battle suit. Sleek, dark metal paneled over her fingers and forearm. She pushed a button on the small screen. "What is it?"

And then a baritone voice that was not her father's hissed quietly. "Dammit, where are you?"

Her heart dropped out. A strange anxiety and excitement came over her. She hissed back, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? How are you calling me on my comm?"

"I hacked into the Shield. Did you really think I couldn't hack into your battle suit?" The ghost, also known as Dan Phantom and the Ravager of Worlds, huffed. "Where are you? The room I know to be yours—it is empty."

She blinked in surprise. "Wait a minute. You're here?"

"I need to speak with you. It is urgent." Sharp winds from the outside cut through the comm.

"D can't be here. He's supposed to be in Australia," she narrowed her eyes. "Healing from bullet wounds like a normal person."

"Dammit woman, tell me where you are, or I shall hack into your suit's GPS systems."

"You got an excuse for being here? You know, that everyone will believe if they see you?"

He groaned. For a time, here was silence. Then, "The Australians were able to remove the bullet shrapnel that your doctor could not. Their advanced techniques healed me, but I must still limit my movements. I could not stay away from you for long. There. Happy?"

She mulled over the excuse, and then she said, "The sleeping quarters hall, room 110."

"Why are you no longer in the room I know?"

Valerie looked down, closing her book. "Bad memories," she said flatly, fighting down thoughts of the now-imprisoned Nathan Green.

"…Good point."

Then the comm shut down.

An anxiousness came over her as she waited for Dan to appear. Her previous daydreams still teased her mind, which were that Dan would at least reaffirm his deep attraction to her on sight. It hit her then that she was sitting on her bed wearing only her pajamas—a thin tank top and shorts. She knew such a position was relatively dangerous around him.

Her face warmed a bit as the rest of her goose-bumped, but she did nothing, her heart beating a little faster with the well-remembered look of Dan's false-blue eyes tightening in desire for her alone—his hands slipping up the hem of her shirt—

Just then, a disguised Dan Phantom materialized into the room. He wore his regulation dark jeans and military jacket, but was carrying…a large bundle of black blankets? He seemed half-panicked and distracted, his dark hair falling out of his low ponytail with stress. "It is too cold," he declared to her. "We need heat."

Valerie blinked in surprise as Dan shoved the cold bundle of blankets into her arms. She was not expecting the sudden, heavy weight, and her eyes widened as the weight bore down to her crossed legs. And then she realized that something within the blankets was moving.

A small, muffled whine of a baby sounded.

Her heart stopped. She looked at Dan's tight face, then down at the blankets. And with great hesitance, she began to pull the black blankets apart and came face to face with a teary, blue-eyed baby that was shivering hard.

Valerie's jaw dropped. "What is this?" she hissed, voice in a panic. She touched the baby's face, as if to prove it were real. Its skin was freezing cold. "Oh my god, this is a—how did—did you kidnap a baby?!"

His face twitched in irritation. "No," he said shortly. "You can thank the mass-meddler known as Clockwork for his." He ran a hand through his hair, accidentally pulling out what remained of his ponytail. "I've expected many things from the Master of Time, but this was never one of them."

"And what is this?" Valerie continued to panic. The baby on her lap looked miserable and tired, its face screwed up as if it were about to scream. But the heat of the human woman began to seep through the blankets, and the baby's face began to untwist into a daze of surprise. Its large, blue eyes stared up at her, as if mesmerized by her face. He cooed up at her suddenly.

Dan sat down at the edge of the bed. The baby wiggled in Valerie's lap and raised its arms disjointedly to reach for her. "Clockwork, as the Master of Time, has access to various universes. Different time streams." He pulled up one of the blankets to better cover the baby, his paternal instincts sharp with worry. "In one such world, we are apparently capable of having children together, because this is our son."

Valerie's mind broke. She blinked. "What?"

"Which reminds me," he murmured. He leaned in close over the baby, cupped Valerie's face, and planted his lips against hers. Her eyes widened. The electricity was familiar, but his affections were always a tidal wave—overwhelming and powerful.

He pulled away and whispered, his baritone voice a hum down into her nerves, "Hello, Valerie dear."

Her full lips were open and bruised, her heart pounding, a baby squirming in her lap. "What the hell," she breathed, struggling to gather her thoughts.. "I can't—" Her voice strained. "Our son? How?"

She stared down at the baby, noticing for the first time that its eyes matched the color of Dan's exactly, that its skin was lighter than hers but darker than Dan's, that its hair was a heavy black that curled at the ends…

She added, face turning red with a blush, "But we haven't even—"

"—Like I said," he interrupted, "different world, courtesy of Clockwork."

The human woman stared up at Dan, eyes wide and vulnerable. It was hard enough for her to imagine a committed relationship with him, much less actually making love with him (as much as the thought sped up her heart).

His rough, calloused fingers gently pushed her dropped jaw up, clicking her teeth back together. "I know," he said dryly, brushing away some of her curled hair from her shoulder. "Believe me, this was not my anticipated plans for the evening."

She stared down at the baby in her lap with wide eyes. Her tongue remained tied. The baby tried to reach for her again, begging to be held closer, but she did not know how to even pick him up or hold him. The baby was an ungainly mass in her lap, its body wiggling and eyes wide and innocent—

Seeing that Valerie was about to go into an unprecedented panic attack, Dan said, "We have only 48 hours with our baby." Then he corrected himself, "47, and then he must return to his world."

She tentatively touched the baby's face. "I don't know a damn thing about kids," she whispered. "Why the hell would Clockwork do this?"

Dan pulled out from a pocket in his jacket a capped, glass vial. "Because Clockwork must have an investment in your life. You, my dear, are dying in that world from a sickness. And I would have you die in none."

Valerie narrowed her eyes at the vial. "Is that…blood, then?" She paled a bit. "…Mine?"

The ghost nodded. "I must get this to the doctor for analysis immediately, and I do believe our son is quite hungry. We need to get him something to eat. It appears he's too young for anything but milk."

The baby had taken to chewing on the blanket, face in a pout as a muffled whine escaped him. He seemed happy enough to be in the presence of his parents, but his stomach continued to growl.

She became panicked all over again. "I can't just take a newborn baby that looks like you and me to a store for baby formula. Do you even realize the gossip that'd create? And how the hell would I answer, huh? 'Oh, this is the son I never wanted from another universe?!'"

"He needs food," Dan said flatly. "And as you are not a nursing mother, we need to compensate with something."

Her face blushed, soon growing a deep red. Dan's voice was so matter-of-fact—how could he speak of such things so easily?

"Even if we got the formula undercover, this is a military base," she added in a hiss of panic. "I can't hide a baby here. They'll hear it crying and will start asking questions. My father would have a heart attack and way too many questions. We couldn't hide this for 47 hours even if we wanted to."

Just then, the baby's small hand began to glow red, and Valerie's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "Oh my god, it's got powers." She grabbed the baby's hand and closed it into a fist with panic, ready to activate her battle suit. She looked frazzled as she glanced up at Dan. "It's got powers."

He smiled, and something about him grew absolutely draconic. "I know," he murmured.

Her face twisted. "Why are you not freaking out? If anyone sees this kid, we're in deep shit. And if this kid starts levitating or something, they'll think it's the Exorcist and try to kill it. I don't care what world this kid comes from or why it exists—it can't stay here. It has to go back. Now."

Dan's eyes hardened against her slightly. "This is our child from another world. Would you turn it away to starve so easily?"

"…You mean to tell me they don't have, like, a Wall-to-Wall Mart with baby formula or anything?"

"If they did, do you think Clockwork would have involved us?" Dan stood up, holding tight to the vial. "I shall go to the doctor now and will return shortly. Be considering places we can go for sanctuary."

He began to dematerialize, and Valerie panicked, reaching out to him. "Wait!" she pleaded desperately. "Don't go—don't leave me alone with him—!"

But he was gone.

And an odd silence came over the human woman as she stared down at her lap in a panic. "Oh my god," she breathed. She was suddenly the only person around to care for the newborn. It looked small and helpless, its lips quivering with a cry. "Oh my god, there's a half-ghost baby on my bed. And it's mine. I don't know anything about babies. What the fuck."

And then it hit her that she didn't even know the child's name.


Kwan was rearranging some of his more delicate glass beakers, pulling them off the counter to hide them away in the infirmary's storage closet. But as he turned around, he suddenly came face-to-face with a familiar and deadly, disguised ghost.

He flinched in panic, dropping the beakers, glass shattering everywhere about their shoes.

"Hello, doctor," said the disguised ghost, tilting his head. His false-blue eyes were merry at Kwan's terror.

The human man grabbed at his heart, eyes wide. "Oh, Jesus," he breathed. "Holy—what are you doing here?"

Dan held up a blood vial. "I need you to analyze this," he commanded. "It is important in ways you do not understand. Diagnose the blood issue and create the medication necessary to treat the condition."

Kwan blinked at the vial. He tentatively reached for it. "This looks like human blood."

"Because it is," Dan snapped, handing it over with great gentleness and paranoia. "Do you have the facilities to diagnose illness based off blood samples?"

Kwan grabbed onto the vial, understanding that something about it was inherently sacred to the ghost. "Yes," he said, readjusting his glasses with his free hand. "Of course. But usually, I have at least four vials to—"

"—You have one," Dan warned. "Do not waste it. "

The doctor nodded nervously. "No room for error, right. Okay." He paused. "Where did you get this blood? Is there an actual person who needs my help?"

Dan pulled back with a sniff. "She is too far for you to reach, but you have the expertise and resources required to save her. She could be dying right now. Do not fail me, doctor."

Kwan knew at some level that failing Dan Phantom, the Ravager of Worlds, would result in great pain. And so he said, "It'll be a little tight, but I can probably do a full workup with an antidote in the next couple of hours. Do you have any idea of what the person was suffering? Her symptoms?"

A small tic of uncertainty began to appear in Dan's face, and it made him look worried. "I do not know," he admitted. "I have it from a third-party that she became sick several days after giving birth."

Kwan hummed, eyes narrowing at the vial. "A puerperal fever, perhaps. And just who is she? What kind of trauma happened during the birth?" It made no sense for Dan Phantom to be so interested in a human being, much less a post-partum woman who was not Valerie Gray.

"That's none of your concern," Dan said tightly. He looked as if he himself knew very little. "But whatever you find from that vial, speak of it to no one but me. Keep everything confidential. Am I clear?"

"C-crystal."

"Good." And then a new thought hit him. He narrowed his eyes at Kwan. "Before I go, I have one more request. Do you carry any kind of baby formula here?"

Kwan blinked, then sputtered, "Only an emergency supply in the event of refugee—"

"—I need it."


Valerie held the baby as one would an ungainly sack. She tried to hold it in her arms, attempting to support its neck with the crook of her elbow. "Oh my god," she breathed. She leaned her back against the headboard of her bed, allowing the baby to sink against her. "I don't have a maternal bone in my body. What the hell do I do? Am I hurting you? What if I'm causing you brain damage or something? You're not going to activate any weird ghost powers on me, are you?"

The baby tilted its head, his blue eyes watching her. And then his toothless smile stretched wide, pink gums shining for his mother. He leaned against her breast, turning to nuzzle into her with his mouth. Valerie's eyes widened, and she flinched, nearly dropping him. "Um." Oh my god oh my god—

The sudden reaction left the baby blinking. And then he whined, staring up at her pathetically. Its small fists tightened into the material of her tank top, desperate for its mother's milk.

"Kid, I'm not your mother," she said, voice strained. "I don't have—I can't—"

The baby began to whine a bit harder, and this time its whine turned into a cry. It could see its mother but did not understand why she denied him milk or held him so uncomfortably.

Valerie panicked, back straightening. "I'm not kidding," she hissed to the baby. She wrapped herself around it, deeply afraid of what would happen if it began to cry any louder than it already was. "Oh my god, please stop please stop please stop—Dan, where the fuck did you go—"

The baby began to squirm in further discomfort, its mouth and belly drier than it had ever known. Its face turned red with cries.

Valerie, in a spark of inspiration, leaned over and turned on the radio on her alarm clock in hopes it would cover the sound. Classic rock, with a crisp and high-pitched electrical guitar, soared over the airwaves. The sound of the music covered the baby's cries, but then the baby's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Its open mouth fell silent.

"Because baby," a long-dead musician from the height of rock n' roll sang, his voice high but rough, "ya know that I love ya, no matter what ya do. And baby—"

The little infant seemed frozen at the sound, its eyes open in pure wonder at the sounds of various instruments wrapping around his ears. Music. For the first time in its short life, it was hearing a collection of sounds that soared high in harmony, and he looked at his mother in awe.

He smiled through his tears, suddenly delighted again.

"Is it working?" she whispered, staring down at the infant in fear. A nervous giggle came over her. "Haha, yeah. Rock n' roll. Please keep smiling, please keep smiling. You're freakin' terrifying when you cry."

The baby unlatched his small hands from her tank top to wave his fingers in the air, as if attempting to catch the sounds of the guitar riffs, which were quick down various scales. He giggled and cooed at the sound. The music distracted him from the awful gnaw in his stomach. The sound of the guitar and drums was perhaps the most beautiful—

Just then, the disguised Dan Phantom reappeared, carrying with him a dark bag over his shoulder. He paused at the sight of Valerie leaning over the giggling and squirming baby, the sound of…classic rock n' roll wafting through the air?

"Ugh," he pressed the radio button, face twisted in disgust. "That noise is awful."

Valerie looked up in panic. "No, no, no—turn it back on! Back on!"

"Why?"

"Because he likes it!" she hissed. But it was too late.

A great sadness came over the baby at the sound of silence. And then his face twisted up in displeasure, and he began to cry again, waving his hands in want of something, anything—

Dan blinked, then flicked on the radio again. His face twitched in deep irritation at the sound of the music. "I'm gone for how long," he complained, "and you've already corrupted him with pop culture from the past?"

Valerie narrowed her eyes at the ghost and snarled, "He keeps crying. What did you want me to do, huh?"

"I don't know, corrupt him with something classic and intelligent, like Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata?" He sat upon her bed with a huff, wearily staring at the baby as he began to pull out objects from the black bag he'd obtained from a very confused Kwan. He set a readymade baby bottle on the bed, which Kwan had used to show him how to mix and prepare the baby formula.

As he did so, the rock song began to fade out, and the baby began to strain in irritation at its disappearance. Valerie glanced at the radio alarm clock in betrayal. The baby in her arms began to cry all over again, this time its small voice shrill. "Um," Valerie panicked, looking up at the door and half-thinking to just press her hand against the baby's mouth. "What do I do?"

Dan swooped in. He pulled the screaming Jax away from an equally terrified Valerie, and after settling the child in the crook of his arm, he gently guided the bottle to the baby's mouth. The baby gave a noise of surprise at the sudden transition from his mother's arms to the dark-haired man with his father's scent, but then he began to suck the milk down hungrily, his eyes wide.

"There," Dan said in satisfaction, looking pleased at the way the baby no longer cried. This child of his had strong lungs he did not necessarily want to hear again. He gently readjusted his arms, pulling the infant closer to his chest. "That is easy enough." Then he looked up at Valerie, who stared back in amazement while looking frazzled and disheveled in every way. "What?"

The sight of Dan holding an infant in his arms with great affection and patience was enough for Valerie to question her sanity. Surely, this was all some kind of odd dream. The ghost carried in every line of his body some kind of paternal protectiveness, his mind somehow rewired to care more about that child than the fact that he was once again inside the hated Amity Park without destroying anything.

She crossed her arms to hide her shock, looking uncomfortable. "You're acting like this is totally normal," she mumbled, face blushing. "And you're actually good at parenting." She found that to be almost threatening, like every time she discovered that Dan was better at something than her.

The infant raised its disjointed hands to grasp at Dan's fingers, its small mouth still silently guzzling down the milk. "Perhaps you are better in the other world," Dan suggested, giving her a miserably amused look, "just as I am capable of giving you children in that world."

The two fell silent for a time, watching the baby's eyes shut tiredly, then open again, only for him to suck down a few more swallows of milk before his eyes closed again. It seemed the baby's wild journey between worlds and suffering from an empty tummy had left it exhausted.

"Do you know his name?" Valerie whispered.

"Jaxon Alexander Gray." The name rolled off Dan's tongue slowly, as if he were trying to cradle the syllable. "Clockwork suggested his nickname is Jax." His heart swelled again at the sound of his son's name. His DNA—both Fenton and Masters—melted at the concept of an heir every time he thought of it. This child meant as much to him as Valerie did.

Valerie scooted a bit closer, wearily staring at the baby. "Did you get that blood vial to Kwan?"

"Of course. The doctor is very much confused, but working on an antidote to the Other-Valerie's sickness."

"And we just have to look after this kid for a couple of days while the other-me gets better, and then he'll be gone, right?" Something in Valerie's voice sounded too hopeful.

Dan gave her a harsh look. "This is our son. Are you so callous as to care nothing for him?"

"I told you, kids aren't my thing." She looked uncomfortable under Dan's hard gaze. "I've never really…wanted one. And I can't imagine a world with me popping one out by choice." She swallowed hard, looking a little ill at the thought of herself giving birth.

The ghost turned away. "Then take heart," he muttered . "For a child like this will never exist in our world, and after two days, you might never see him again. Surely, you can stand to be tormented by a helpless infant for a few hours?"

Valerie's jaw set. "Are you trying to guilt-trip me for not fitting into your little fantasy?"

At that, the ghost stood up from the bed and turned to face her. Something in his face was sharp. He looked offended and hurt. "This is no fantasy. I am holding flesh and blood that we created together in some world. But if you prefer that I remove it from your sight, then I shall take him away. I'm sure there is another location where I could reside until Clockwork returns to forcibly pull this child from cold, dead my hands."

The human woman on the bed sat uncomfortably, staring at the ghost for whom she felt too many strong emotions to hate. She thought on the truth that she would never naturally have children with him. The fact had always somewhat bothered her for unknown reasons, even though she had no true desire for children. But now, here she was, staring at a baby that some version of herself had born into the world, Dan expecting her to fully accept and love it as he had.

And it was all too much.

She said slowly, still somewhat in a daze, "Look…Jax really can't stay here. He's gonna finish that bottle and go right back to crying or whatever else babies do."

Dan's false-blue eyes hardened in betrayal. "So you wish me to leave with him."

"Yes," she said. She stood up from the bed, pulling her ringlet hair into a low ponytail. Something in her face looked uncomfortable and scared. "But I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"Look, I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I know that kid can't stay here. It's not safe. There's a town about fifty miles from here—We can use the transport system to hide there and take care of the kid undercover until Clockwork comes back."

Dan looked at her almost suspiciously. "And why would you wish to embark on such a journey with me?"

She rubbed her temples and kneeled down, reaching for some civilian clothes she'd packed away under her bed. "Because if that kid's really ours in another universe," she huffed, "then that means I got a responsibility to it. And I sure as hell don't think leaving it to a psychotic guy like you is a good idea. Now turn around, I gotta get real clothes back on."

Something in Dan's gaze—that previous glint of suspicion and betrayal—relaxed, and he gazed at her in surprise. His heart swelled in desire and excitement. Perhaps Valerie had a heart for the kid after all. "Valerie dear, is me turning around really necessary? This baby is quite the testimony that some version of ourselves have in fact—"

"—Shut up," she hissed, face blushing a damnable red. "And turn your ass around. Maybe we make babies in one world, but it sure as hell isn't this one."

The ghost huffed at her, thinking her prudence ridiculous. But he rolled his eyes and turned around, complaining to the near-asleep baby in his arms, "Your mother just wants to make me suffer," he declared, listening to the rustle of clothes being pulled off Valerie's body. He groaned. "Teasing me with her odd morality. It's utterly pointless. I'd let her watch me undress any day without such complaint."

"Yeah, because you'd like that," she called, voice strained as she pulled a shirt over her head.

"Are you saying you wouldn't?" he called back.

And then Valerie fell very silent, eying the backside of Dan's muscled, fit form. Her face grew hot as she imagined him taking off his shirt. Then she muttered, "….Touché."


A/N: What have I done.

Okay, so this is going to be a mini-bridge temporarily connecting the Valentine and Aftermath universes. I imagine this will continue for one or two more updates, and then the Aftermath universe will pick back up solo. (By the way, the rock song briefly mentioned is not a real song—it's generic lyrics that are probably scattered in a bunch of songs. I just could not get the thought of Jax being a rock n' roll lover out of my head.)

As far as my personal health goes, I told you guys last time that I was getting blood work done. I just got the test results back, and they're a little interesting. I have an autoimmune illness along with really severe anemia that's affected my whole body (I guess not eating meat can be dangerous). I am now on several medications and have been told that I can't afford to stay up late to write anymore. This means I have to figure out how to write…in the daylight. O_o But then that's when I work. So I'm a little down and worried, but I figure I could have it a lot worse. I'm really thankful it's not cancer or something like that.

Anyway, please let me know your comments, questions, ideas, or requests with this chapter! I always love hearing back. Happy early Valentine's Day to all my lovely reviewers!