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Shot Summary: Salem Part 2: Dan Phantom and Valerie barely escape from 1692 Salem. Their life-threatening injuries result in new deals and an increasingly complicated relationship.
Deliverance
Shot 46: Salem Part 2, Epilogue
Paulina knocked quickly at the door, panicked. "General Gray?" she called out. She knocked again, breath hitching. "General Gray! I need to speak with you!"
A deep voice, with the beginning tinges of frailty from increasing age, called back, "I'm busy, Paulina."
"Not for this," she responded, still knocking. "It's about Valerie! I think she's in trouble!"
A pause stretched for a few seconds, and then the door unlocked. Paulina let herself in and came face-to-face with the leader of the Amity Park Resistance—Valerie's own father. His once-dark hair was now a peppery gray, his left arm sleeve pinned back from an injury sustained in the initial destruction wrought by a fourteen-year-old Dan Phantom. Although he wore an eyepatch, his visible eye was as brilliant and sharp as Valerie's.
"What about Valerie?" he demanded quickly. His eye narrowed in worry.
"Sir," the woman stressed, her accented voice wavering. "She hasn't checked in for over five hours." The woman's breath began to hitch. "And she didn't answer my calls. She always answers my calls. She know we're supposed to have a girl's night tonight, and—"
"—Paulina," the father cut in. "We've had comms cut out before. Did you check her GPS?"
The woman swallowed hard, her eyes bright with tears. She pulled out a small device and cast it to the table. The GPS tracker was blank with not even a blip. No GPS signal suggested that, at the very least, Valerie's suit was too damaged to emit one.
The man picked up the device. The beginning of panic set in. He looked up, his teal eyes tightening with stress. He asked slowly, "Are you sure this isn't just a tracker malfunction?"
Paulina shook her head. "Kwan's did the same thing." Her big lips began to quiver, and when she blinked, tears ran down her face. "So did Dash's. Her last known location was the Bermuda Triangle. I was so busy getting things ready for tonight, I didn't even check until—"
The father stood up. His teeth gritted so hard in fear that Paulina could see his muscles and bones tense. "—Until you realized she could be dead?" Before the woman could respond, he barked, "Get research up here, stat. Tell 'em to bring their heat signature prototype."
Paulina started at the man's tones and then nodded, quickly backing out. She shut the door behind her. "Dios mio," she breathed, beginning to cry harder. Her makeup ran down her face. "Dios mio."
So many people had died over the years. Losing Star—finding her body under rubble—had been enough to break Paulina. She did not think she would be able to handle the death Valerie Gray, if it came to it.
.
"I'll be fine," Valerie had rolled her eyes, pulling her thick hair back in a ponytail. "The brat just needs someone to babysit him for a few hours—then I'll be back in time for a girl's night. Okay?"
"You bring an awful lot of guns with you for a babysitting job." Paulina crossed her arms, her accented voice concerned. "Babysitting usually means makeup magazines and calling boys for fun. What you do—that is not babysitting. That's a ghost trying to hurt you."
Valerie paused. Her nimble fingers hung on the tie of her ponytail for a second, and then she lowered her hands and turned to Paulina. "Can you keep a secret?"
The Latina's dark, sculpted brow angled. "About what?"
"About him."
At that, the beautiful woman hummed. She eyed Valerie with a dark curiosity. "What else is there to know about him?"
Valerie licked her lips in hesitation. "I figured out his weakness. It's not what you think."
"And?"
"I think it's us. All of us."
Paulina's face twisted in confusion, her brain struggling to keep up. "…I know I'm slow, chica. But that made no sense."
"Amity Park's the last surviving human city, right? So if he kills us, he'll be all alone in this world. I think he's starting to realize that." The Red Huntress looked uncomfortable. "It's like he's attacking just for attention."
The woman mulled over Valerie's words in the silence that stretched between them. "But he still hurts you," she argued.
Valerie swallowed hard. "That's the thing. He doesn't. Not anymore."
Deep in the realms of the Ghost Zone was a black and silver figure. It trudged one step at a time through the black dirt, carrying something in its arms.
"D-damn," came a shaky, baritone moan. "H-heavier…than—you look."
The great Dan Phantom, Ravager of Worlds, had gone into core stasis after Valerie pulled the arrow from his chest. He'd thought it was the end. The tear tracks of his pain were still dried upon his face. He had vague memories of latching onto Valerie in hazy hopes she would wake up to help him. The pain had been so great—the fear of oblivion—
Now, he trudged forward again, dizzy from his blood loss. His eyes were little more than a muddy brown, his power core flickering as it struggled to heal his chest wound. He assumed that, to stave off fading out, his body had instinctively fed from Valerie's natural electromagnetic energy—and was continuing to do so.
In his arms was the limp Valerie. He'd steeled one arm under her knees, with his other arm anchored under her shoulders. She was leaning into him, her head curled forward under his chin. "Y-you," he snapped in pain, "just can't…m-make things easy, can y-you."
The woman did not answer. She was still unconscious and wheezing. Dan could feel the hot puffs of air against his chest, the enduring struggle of her heartbeat…He imagined, in any other world, she would snap heartily at him and say, "What the hell? You'rethe one who makes everything so difficult, you dolt. Don't blame this on me."
It bothered him that she was not awake to needle him so. Valerie was never speechless. Never vulnerable.
The ghost grimaced as he looked to his right, Valerie's bare legs, which hung as limp as the rest of her, were blackened with burns up to her mid-calves. The damaged skin and muscles had cracked, dripping hot blood that sizzled against the Ghost Zone's dirt. He imagined if she opened her eyes, they were would be glassy with fever.
Her decreasing health was partially from him feeding off her electromagnetic field.
Dan pushed himself forward in fear, unsure of where he was going or how long he could last. Valerie was the only source of energy around. He needed to stabilize her soon, or she would die in his arms. And then he would follow her into final death.
"I break p-promises," the ghost said to her, staring hopelessly ahead. He'd promised he could get Valerie back home if she ripped the arrow from his chest. But that had been an empty deal made in a desperate moment.
Valerie probably knew that.
As time passed, his steps grew more unsteady, his power core flickering in a panic to keep him stable. Sweat beaded down his temples and sharp cheeks. He took another step, gasping in pain. They were nowhere near any place that would help him regenerate.
His leg buckled, and the next thing he knew, he'd fallen to his knees in the black dirt, almost dropping the woman in his arms. He swooned in exhaustion as his cape billowed around them, the edges slipping against Valerie's burnt legs.
For a time, he half-thought he could get up again. Save them both.
Then he collapsed beside her, ecto-blood slipping from his lips as his chest wound reopened. And he began to laugh, the sound an odd gurgle that soon turned into a cry.
Soon enough, the most powerful ghost in the dimension struck his scepter into the dirt, his features bleeding from those of a young boy into a strong man. His sharp, red eyes narrowed on the sight before him.
His old charge, Dan Phantom, was struggling for air next to an increasingly silent Valerie Gray. The poor woman's chest hardly rose with air, whereas Phantom's breaths were ragged, puffing into Valerie's neck as he bled out again.
"Hmm." Clockwork's voice was smooth as water. "What an odd turn of events, to find you both here."
Dan did not respond or attempt to raise his head. Clockwork's voice wavered in his ears, almost as a hallucination. Surely, the Master of Time (who despised him) would not appear in the middle of nowhere to save him. Yes, it was an illusion. A last, desperate wish for salvation.
"Speechless?" Clockwork called. His red eyes were sharp, gauging the life remaining in the woman. "Usually, our visits begin with you cursing a rather creative stream at me."
Dan closed his eyes, thinking himself masochistic for hallucinating Clockwork, of all people…
Then the hallucinating began to walk upon the dirt of the Ghost Zone, his immense presence sweeping out. It struck Dan like a smack, and his eyes snapped open in shock.
This was not a hallucination.
"My employers prefer that you fade out and take your enemy with you." The Master of Time's voice grew louder, more focused as he approached. "As a lesson to you, and as rest for her. Truly, the Red Huntress deserves rest. And you deserve many painful lessons, of which no longer existing in this world would be only the first."
The old ghost stopped within a foot's distance of the fallen Dan and Valerie. When he gazed down he saw Dan's power-drained eyes staring back, narrowed even in his pain.
"Had you not baited the villagers to celebrate your title as a demon," Clockwork said dryly, "the woman at your side would not be in such dire health, and you would not struggle so to heal."
The younger ghost closed his eyes, face twitching in pain as he moaned.
"But that is not in your nature, is it? To consider anyone but your own ego."
Over the years, Clockwork had grown tired of Phantom's arrogance and violence. Though he had loved the original Daniel Fenton as a son, he could not help the spark of irritation that tore through him at even the sight of Dan Phantom. All of Daniel's strengths—wasted.
Mostly.
He leaned down and grabbed onto Dan's neck collar, tearing the ghost away from Valerie.
"Ngh," Dan moaned, opening muddy-brown eyes as he felt his back slam hard against the ground. His hand shakily pressed against his chest. Ectoplasm leaked between his fingers, and tears leaked from his eyes.
"You do not deserve the honor of fading out at her side," the Master of Time said, staring down at his corrupted charge. "And she deserves more than dying at yours."
A great fear tore through Dan as he helplessly stared up, gasping for air he did not need. He felt the fear of oblivion—and that his old guardian had not necessarily come to save him, but rather to ensure the end.
.
"Daniel," pleaded Clockwork, his aged body leaning hard on his scepter. "This is madness. At every turn, I have warned you of the consequences of this path."
"My name is not Daniel." He gnashed his strong fangs together, glaring. "And you know nothing of how madI am."
"I can help you—"
"—Get out!" snarled the young ghost, forming an ectoplasmic blast in the palm of his hands. He shot it at the Master of Time. "Get out of here! I don't want your help! I hate you! I just want everything to burn!"
.
The fear broke him.
"P-please," came a desperate gurgle. Dan's voice was distorted by the blood rising in his throat. The end would not be long now. Clockwork was his only hope of staying in existence. "Pl—ease. H-help."
The Master of Time's jaw set. "And how many times did your victims beg for mercy when you had them in a similar position? For what reason should I save you?"
Dan was struggling to think, to speak. Everything—his pride, his principles—seemed so pointless now. "D-debt," he gasped. "I'll b-be in—your-debt." His desire to survive was fueled by the knowledge that he was otherwise immortal. He could pay off a debt.
For a split second, Clockwork's gaze snapped back to the dying Valerie Gray. She still had time.
"Very well," the Master of Time said. "You will be blood-bound to pay that debt, which will be equivalent to the trouble associated with saving your afterlife. Do you understand?"
Dan gasped, sweat pouring down his temples. He managed a brief, disjointed nod.
"Then we have a deal." And the entire universe twisted.
Valerie Gray awoke later, surrounded by softness. Her brilliant, teal eyes opened to the blurry sight of a dark stone ceiling, turning with clock gears.
She blinked, unable to reconcile her own name, much less her location. When she breathed in deeply, her lungs squeezed. Swallowing made her throat hurt in a dull way. Her fingers curled into the sheets around her, and she blinked again in surprise to discover not only was she on a comfortable pile of blankets, but she also had an IV jammed into her wrist vein.
A clarity shot through her, which was her memory of 1692—the pain of fire—Dan's body lying against hers—
Valerie startled up, only to cough and then wheeze in pain. Her blankets fell from her body, revealing her sooty tank top and shorts still covered in the dried blood of Dan Phantom. Panic overwhelmed her, and she pulled back the covers further to reveal her legs. Heavy bandages were wrapped up to her knees, a few patches bleeding red through the gauze. Odd—she felt nothing from it. The edges of the bandages seemed to hint at a salve that had been applied beneath.
"You will still need a skin graft," came a deep voice. It was smooth and powerful as water. "And physical therapy for the time you'll spend in a wheelchair. Do not think me a god or a miracle worker."
Valerie looked up, her frizzy ringlet hair bouncing against her shoulders. She saw a great being approach. He was tall, wrapped in a purple cloak. His blue skin was marred by a scar around his red eye.
She could feel his power goose-bump her skin. He was undoubtedly a ghost. An ancient one.
"Who the—?"
"—My name is Clockwork." He held a scepter in his strong hand and looked kingly about it. "I am also called the Master of Time."
Her heart pounded with an increasing rhythm. She assumed if this ghost were going to kill her, he would have already done it. "I'm still in the Ghost Zone?" she whispered.
"Yes. This is my lair." He paused. "I pulled a human doctor from an available timeline to assist with your wounds. You have been asleep for several hours."
The blood drained from her face slowly as she processed the information. Fire. Sleep.
Dan.
"And Phantom?" she demanded, voice already growing hoarse. She raised a hand to rub her throat. Her fingers shook. "Did you find him with me?"
The powerful ghost raised a sharp brow. "I did."
A sort of fearful frustration overcame her. "Was he…gone? Did you leave him there?"
Clockwork suddenly aged into an old man, his powerful body shrinking to thin lines. "I debated on it. He made a deal I could not refuse."
The woman clutched the hem of a blanket hard, swallowing back an odd form of relief and confusion. "So…he's still here, right?"
"Yes. Although I find your relief counterproductive to your efforts as the Red Huntress." As he hobbled forward, a small glint appeared in his eye. It was a knowledgeable merriment. "You are strange enemies, you and him. To cling together upon threat of oblivion."
Valerie's sooty face tinged a bit red with a blush—or shame or embarrassment, she did not know. All she remembered was Dan's body curled against hers. "He did the clinging part all on his own," she snapped. "I just wanted to make sure he was still here, 'cause if anyone's gonna end him, it'll be me."
Clockwork ignored her words, which were rushed and babbled to save face. "You should know that my employers wanted you both to die and thereby usher in an era of peace. But without you, I foresee that humans will no longer feel safe and protected. They will overrun us and destroy the Zone to ensure no ghost like Phantom arises again. Hence my interest in protecting your life."
"You…see the future?"
"And the past," he corrected. "And the infinite possibilities within the present." He looked almost satisfied. "Your choice to work with Phantom created several potential realities that gave me reason to preserve him as well. You managed to provide him with the revelation that, for all his power, he cannot save himself. I can work with that."
Valerie began to feel that she was on an extensive chessboard—a pawn in a much larger game than that of her simple war for Amity Park. "Work for what?"
"Lasting Peace. To ensure the continued safety of the Ghost Zone's citizens, we need you." Clockwork's eyes narrowed in amusement at her. "But without Phantom as the thorn in your side, you will revert to your previous concerns for material possessions and earthly desires, and you will slip in your duties, which will again endanger the Zone with enemies attempting to fill the vacuum of your position. Hence my need for Phantom as well."
"I'm not some puppet, and neither is Phantom," she huffed, but her voice wavered. This being seemed to know too much about her, the least of which being her ongoing struggle not to hoard money or belongings. "I don't answer to you. And if you're really Mr. High and Mighty with the time powers, why can't you save your world without me?"
Clockwork nearly snorted in amusement, and he eyed her, his body returning to that of a man in his prime. "All powers have limitations. I could restart the world from its entirety and inhibit Daniel from ever being born, which would decrease human interest in destroying the Ghost Zone. But then other consequences arise. Different, more powerful enemies. Higher death counts. It is best that we work with this timeline, in which you can reason with Phantom, than risk a world with greater enemies and no one to stand against them."
Valerie fell silent, feeling the weight of this being's charge. "So you want me to work with you...to keep Phantom in line and humans from attacking the Zone?"
"Precisely."
She began to itch her arm, unable to calm down in Clockwork's powerful presence. "And this is why you saved me? Because I'm just a convenient pawn to you?" She couldn't help the ungrateful edge that crept into her voice.
The ghost hummed. "You are not so much a pawn to me as I am now a guardian to you." In that moment, he found Valerie Gray to be oddly reminiscent of Phantom. They both so easily jumped to conclusions and got heated about it. It made him tired. Especially when he knew both had the capacity for greatness.
Valerie's eyes were hard with calculation. "And what does that mean—having aghost as a guardian?"
Clockwork gave an amused, dry smile. "A partnership as equally frustrating as having a hardnosedhuman as a charge, I'm sure."
Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she bristled at the insult against her. "So basically, you're gonna tell me to jump and then expect me to jump, huh. All in the name of keeping me alive for your own agenda?"
"No." He wore back into an old man, looking somewhat exasperated with her. "I am the Master of Time, not of taking free will. If you ask me, here and now, to never speak or interact with you again, then I will respect your wishes. But if you ask such things, then you will lose my assistance and the resources I may lend to you to address our joint concern on protecting life."
Feeling a bit chastised, she fell silent. She understood she was playing with fire—but she could not stand the thought of being under a powerful ghost's thumb. "You're manipulating me," she accused. "I don't trust you."
"And you are resting in my lair, alive by the intervention of my hand alone." His voice hardened against her with disappointment. Having knowledge that Valerie Gray was a stubborn and suspicious woman did not negate the experience of dealing with her face-to-face.
Her face flushed with embarrassment once more. She clutched onto the blanket a little tighter, feeling like a small child under Clockwork's gaze. It did not help that she was still covered in soot and bandages. She looked away from him, biting her lip.
He softened at her confliction—the odd way she suddenly looked much younger. An enduring sigh escaped his lips. "I do not expect you to trust me," he said finally. "Itis true I use people to manipulate outcomes in the timeline. Sometimes, my interventions do little to stop events. Phantom, for example, is a tragedy I wanted to avoid." He paused. "But my successes and my failures are not derived from blackmail or manipulation. I operate solely on free will, on equivalent exchanges to ensure mutual benefit. I once reached out to Phantom to save him from his own folly. He rejected my help." He waved at her with a wry amusement. "So here we are, with me now asking for your help, Commander Gray."
Valerie remained quiet for a while afterward. She swallowed hard, feeling a pull in her throat. The world was expanding once more in ways she was not prepared for. "And Phantom? You said…I needed him—" her face twisted— "somehow."
The old ghost nodded. "He is here in another room. Sulking from the deal he made with me in exchange for his continued existence."
"And what deal was that?"
Clockwork smiled. "Something to benefit you, and him too—in time."
After Clockwork left, Valerie remained sitting up in that bed of blankets, thinking of her friends, her family, her future. On occasion, she scratched at her stomach where she remembered Phantom's fingers had tightened into the material of her shirt. Her face was still flushed in the aftermath of remembering his touch, the desperate way she'd clung to him for relief when he'd whisked them back to the Ghost Zone…
With the danger gone, pretending such things never happened was a bit difficult. "What the hell is my life," she mourned, then rubbed at her throat, which still ached. At least she knew her legs would heal, if not be terribly scarred. She tried to hold onto positive thoughts. Clockwork was a powerful ghost willing to work with her. He'd done something to cow Phantom. He'd saved her life. She wasn't going to die, and she could go home soon to heal.
"What is this—some pathetic attempt at self-reflection?" came a familiar, demonic baritone. It was tired and disgruntled.
At the sound, Valerie flinched and instinctively moved to stand in a defensive position. But the instant her bandaged feet hit the floor, blinding pain surged from her legs, and she gasped out, vision tunneling. Her whole body pitched forward, knees buckling. Her IV dislodged from her wrist.
A strong hand grabbed onto her elbow, sweeping her up before she could fall. Then another hand grabbed at her waist, pulling her flush against a muscled body
Her heart stopped as she realized her hands had tightened into the front of a familiar jumpsuit. She looked up, still gasping in pain.
Dan Phantom looked down, his red eyes glowing with the brilliance of renewed power. "Hn." He searched her eyes. "You are still weak." And then he floated them down slowly, only to unceremoniously drop her onto the pile of blankets.
She bounced a bit, squeezing her eyes shut at the pain still radiating from her legs. For a time, she could focus on nothing else, sweat beading at her temple. "Ngh," she complained, almost in a whine. She knew at some instinctive level that her worst enemy was in the room. That something had changed between them.
"How idiotic of you, to attempt defense against me." He sat cross-legged in the air, his cloak billowing down the powerful lines of his body. He leaned forward, face twisted. "Without your suit, you are no more than a turtle without its shell. And with your injuries, you're about as coordinated as one too."
A pained huff escaped her. She turned her head to him, her wild hair spinning on the pillow. "N-not a turtle," she rasped.
His thin lips twitched without humor. "Yes, you are." Then his red eyes slid to the side in paranoia. He rubbed his wrist, where Valerie caught sight of a raised "CW" branded into his skin. "You are bleeding where your IV fell out."
Dan's words did not quite hit her immediately—not until after her lungs eased and the pain in her legs returned to a dull ache. Then she managed to raise her arm and noted the trails of blood leaking from her wrist. Her eyes widened.
With a bit of struggle, she sat back up again, huffing in a wheeze. She grabbed one of the sheets and wrapped it around her wrist, heart pounding.
Her enemy watched her intently. "You even still carry my dried blood upon you." His face twitched at the reminder of his near-obliteration, and then he looked away.
Valerie's breath shuddered. "Yeah? Well, I didn't ask you bleed all over me, did I?" She found herself focusing on his bare hands—his wrists, which were branded. "And what the hell happened to you? What's with the brand?"
He snorted. He remained silent for a time, as if struggling to find words. "I owe Clockwork a debt now." A deep petulance thinned his mouth with annoyance, like a child ready to throw a tantrum. "It is blood-binding."
The woman narrowed her eyes at Dan, not so much in suspicion, but in curiosity. She wanted to hear Dan explain it in his own words. "And what is it?"
Dan curled his lip in disgust, baring a fang. Then the anger seemed to bleed out of him. "Assisting you." His voice turned dryly. "My dark mistress."
"You must be joking," the Observant hissed to Clockwork, panicked. "Phantom, as some kind of indentured servant to a snot-nosed, myopic human female?"
The Master of Time was at a large table, which held various broken clocks. He was floating several of the replacement gears while he worked. "That is my new charge you just insulted," he said mildly. "And the term is hardnosed. As in stubborn."
"Are you mad?" cried the Observant. "Phantom deserves to be locked in chains and whipped until he falls apart—not at the beck and call of a woman he perversely enjoys calling a 'dark mistress.' You are soft. After all these years, you are still protecting that boy!"
Clockwork's thin lips twitched, his old fingers spinning nimbly working in the innards of a timepiece. "Locking him away will do nothing but increase his madness. Enforcing a physical punishment will have much of the same effect." He pulled out a gear. "No. I will not waste the debt he owes me. I will make him an agent of good yet."
If the eye could have had a brow, it would have furrowed it. "What do you mean?"
The Master of Time suddenly aged into a child as he swept over the table, searching for his favorite tool. "He is beginning to understand the concept of loneliness, of seeing value beyond himself. But Valerie Gray is the only being in the universe he can stand for extended amounts of time. She will open his eyes and soften him further."
At that, the Observant began to grow suspicious. "You do not honestly believe that throwing a half-attractive woman at him will make him bow to law, do you?"
"On the contrary. Valerie Gray, for all of her faults, is highly revered by every living human on the planet. When she speaks, everyone listens willingly." He paused. "Phantom's jealousy for such will inspire him to change tactics."
The Observant was slow to catch on. "So you are showing him a different way to exist. Through her."
"Precisely." Clockwork found his favorite pair of pliers and picked them up. His little cherub-face carried a dark glint. "But, to your point, do not be surprised if their relationship becomes more complex."
The instant Dan and Valerie reappeared in the Human world, their raised voices echoed across the Wastelands. "—the hell do you mean, you're coming in with me?" she snapped hoarsely. "No, I don't care if you have to drop me off right here. I'll fuckingcrawl back." She began to struggle in his arms. "Let me down!"
He seemed almost gleeful. "No. If I have to be miserable for the rest of your life, then you have to be miserable for the rest of your life." His hands tightened on her thigh as he re-adjusted her.
"You can't be serious," she hissed, clutching tight to his neck in fear, half-thinking he'd drop her just for fun. "I am not letting you into Amity Park."
"Ah, but I'm now blood-bound to serve. And how can I serve you if I am not in your presence?"
"Fuck that. You don't want to serve me; you just want to destroy my city from the inside out!"
He looked absolutely demonic. "And what a splendid idea that is." He'd seemed to gain almost a new lease on his afterlife. While he'd long since lost his desire to end all humanity, he'd begun to realize his deal with Clockwork was perhaps a blessing in disguise. His position, combined with the freedoms he still had to interpret what it meant to "assist," suggested he could torment and tease Valerie day and night.
His favorite hobby.
"We are going to have so much fun," he said, his baritone voice rumbling in dark pleasure. "Shall I be your bunkmate? Sneak spiders in your bed at night while you're still too injured to run away?"
At that, she grabbed tight onto one of his flickering locks and forced him to look straight at her. "You listen here," she hissed to him, heart beating madly. "And you listen good. I can make your afterlife hell if I want to. So if you even try breaking into Amity Park or pissing me off anymore, then I'll make you do things you'll have nightmares about for centuries."
His brow angled. "Nightmares or fantasies? You inspire a little of both."
She pulled harder on his hair until he grunted in pain and then growled.
"I'm serious," she threatened, her hoarse voice breaking with a bit of a wheeze.
"So am I." He huffed at her. "For your assault on my hair, I am redecorating your room. With dismembered heads."
The soot-covered Valerie narrowed her eyes to slits. "You're not getting anywhere inside Amity Park," she hissed, "much less my ro—" And then her throat closed up, and she began to cough. She loosened one of her hands from around his neck to cover her mouth. Her whole body rattled.
Dan rolled his eyes, mouth turning at the sound. "That's disgusting."
But Valerie did not stop. Her coughs turned into a terrible wheeze, eyes widening as she fought to catch her breath. When she pulled away her shaking fingers from her mouth, they were covered with spots of blood.
Dan's face tightened for a short second, his whole body freezing with the realization that the woman in his arms was now struggling to breathe.
"Dammit," he snapped at her. "You see what happens when you disagree with me? Now you need medical attention. Again."
Their argument had likely re-inflamed her throat. In his glee, he'd forgotten that she was quite human and hardly healed from burning at the stake.
He complained, even as he tightened his grip to pull her closer, "If I were not blood-bound to assist you, I'd end your miserable existence now." His eyes flickered to the far distance, where he saw the first glimmers of Amity Park's Shield. The last human city. The last stronghold of any higher civilization with the technology to ease Valerie's suffering.
Without further thought, he spiraled into the air, cutting through the winds at break-neck speed. Valerie's body seized a bit as she coughed again. It was making her dizzy.
"Hold on," he told her shortly. "I've a delightful idea to help you get medical attention. Say goodbye to that Shield of yours."
She grabbed onto his suit. She rasped out in panic, "Can't—break—"
He landed hard on his feet before the great city. "Oh, I just haven't wanted to," he murmured, a demonic sort of excitement in his voice. "Until today." Then he pulled her even closer, planting a strong hand against her ears.
And he opened his mouth, his fangs shining in the light as he unleashed a power he'd not yet revealed—his Ghostly Wail.
The unexpected waves of power struck the Shield like a battering ram. On the first wave, the Shield held. On the second wave, the great towers began to shift in their places. By the third, transformers overloaded. Gear boxes sparked and then exploded all the way down the towers.
One by one, the towers failed. The great Shield that had protected Amity Park for almost ten years split open at the top, then began to glimmer away down the sides.
Amity Park citizens careened in sudden panic at the noise. Emergency pods into the underground began to shoot up from the roads, alarms blaring.
And it was there, in the midst of the panic and destruction, that the infamous Dan Phantom stepped from the Wastelands into the city, carrying a wheezing, injured Valerie Gray in his arms. He looked worn from using his power, but when he spoke, his voice carried a dark merriment. "Home at last. Now, allow me to terrify—I mean procure a doctor to treat you. I live to serve, after all."
In the far reaches of the Ghost Zone, Clockwork screwed the hinges shut on his fixed grandfather clock, pulling back to view his work. Pleased, he transformed from his aged body to that of a man in his prime. His red eyes roved over the sleek new fixtures and the golden accents, derived from broken pieces he'd found across the timelines. What beauty, he thought.
"Clockwork!" came an obnoxious cry of an Observant.
His face fell.
"Clockwork! I must speak with you." An Observant materialized into the room, frazzled. He shoved a time window in the Master's face. "Do you not see this?! Do you not see what you've done?!"
"What is it now."
"Your new charge has failed to control that—that demon you saved!" He pushed the time window a little closer, almost until it touched Clockwork's nose. The image showed Dan carrying Valerie through the rubble of the fallen Shield technology. The ghost looked merry in an underhanded way.
"I am not blind," said the powerful ghost, voice dry. He pushed the time window away. "Phantom has torn down the Amity Park Shield. As expected."
"What do you mean, as expected? The last of the human race is in reach for him to kill. I thought you wanted to protect them, not massacre them!"
Clockwork's eye twitched, "In case you've not been observing, Phantom does not desire to kill the last of the humans, or he would have attempted so before now." His eyes slid back to the time window. "No. He desires their attention, their obedience."
The Observant pressed, "And he is manipulating this deal of servitude to take over the city from the inside out. This human female—she can'tpossibly stand up to him."
"She is a ghost hunter," Clockwork said simply, unconcerned with Valerie's temporary injuries. "It's in her blood to oppose him."
On the time window, Valerie clung to Dan's neck, wide-eyed as she coughed. All around her, her hard work—years of building and repairing the Shield—had tumbled to piles of debris.
And despite her injuries and the pain in her body and the fact that Dan Phantom was carrying her, her hand began to spark, her eyes hardening with resolve. The regenerative nanoparticles of her suit were beginning to regroup in her blood.
Before Dan could question it, Valerie's hand swept red with regenerated armor, up to her wrist. She grabbed hard onto his elfin ear and pulled down.
The Ravager of Worlds grunted in surprise. He leaned his head closer to her hand in a desperate attempt to relieve the pain, nearly dropping her. "Dammit, woman, what the—"
Valerie's eyes were as hard as flint. "—Kneel," she rasped out.
He glowered at her, growling in pain as the branding on his wrists began to burn him. His blood-bond was…activating?
And that was how the resistance soldiers found them: Dan collapsing, the branding on his wrists shining with the strength of his blood-bond for all to see, and a coughing Valerie still in his arms, dirty, bloodied—and entirely smug.
For all of his struggling, Dan could not drop her nor resist her command. "What is this?" he snarled in awe, wildly realizing that his blood-bond, though owned by Clockwork, was now responsive to Valerie's vocal commands. "What have you done?!"
But as he met her eyes, he noticed she was in no way surprised. As if she'd known all along—hiding the true depths of her control over him so she could tear him down at the height of his glory, all within sight of her own comrades.
Dan's knees hit the pavement hard, and he winced, his entire body locked under Valerie's command.
The jarring made her wince, but she held on tight to his neck, huffing out a pained laugh. The ghost stared ahead in some kind of open-jawed, horrified shock. She tiredly patted his face, as if to say, You're so predictable.
If she were going to be responsible for him in the extended future, that meant broadcasting their new circumstances to ensure no one got the wrong idea. While she hadn't expected Dan to break the Shield, his actions offered a much larger group of witnesses to his defeat than Valerie had expected.
She liked that.
From out of the crowds, Paulina Sanchez appeared. Her hair was in a dusty, tangled ponytail, her slim body covered in dirt and grime from the destruction of the Shield. Her face was streaked with tears. She shakily held a blaster up, fear in every line.
"Chica?" she whispered, voice breaking. "What is—? How are you…controlling him?!"
Dan Phantom's furious, red eyes focused back to Valerie, and with his free hand grabbed onto her chin and forced her to look at him. "Yes," he hissed. "How, given that my bonds are owned by Clockwork?"
In the midst of her wheezing, she managed a cheeky smile, her cracked lips stretching tiredly. Dan simply did not understand that Clockwork had given her such power, but she teased him, "I'm—a—w-witch."
A/N: And thus ends the Salem story. This is apparently what happens when you let a two-shot write itself. It always goes back to Dan and Valerie bickering like an old couple.
I've always liked the idea of Dan working to pay off his debts to society, but in my other stories with this "servitude" concept, he was already repentant and working in secret. Here, he's still feisty and trying to manipulate that deal for his own open entertainment. I'd be half-tempted to write little stories of how that servitude shakes out.
Also, I've noticed that readership for this collection has dropped almost by half lately. Not entirely sure why, so let me know if something's boring.
Please review with your thoughts, questions, ideas, or constructive criticisms! Thank you!
