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Miniseries Summary: Dan challenges Pariah Dark for the position of Ghost King and loses badly. As a result, Pariah Dark rips out Dan's power core, cuts out his tongue, and tortures him to make him an example for other enemies. He then throws a broken Dan to the resistance before claiming the human world as part of his empire. Valerie struggles with what to do regarding their strange prisoner and how to stop Pariah Dark before he destroys them all. Hurt!Dan.
Shot Summary: Karma Part 10: As the battle with Pariah Dark gets closer, so do Dan and Valerie.
Deliverance
Shot 64: Karma Part 10
That night, the process of regenerating a power core wore hard on Dan. The beaten ghost sat cross-legged on his bed in the infirmary, shivering beneath his heated blanket. His fingertips sparked with frost. "Mmh," he complained, his bruised face twisting with a grimace.
Everything seemed wrong: His warm flannel shirt had been destroyed by Damon's blaster, and now he was a mess of bandages once again. His face hurt from being punched by Dash. And his few allies were asleep, which meant he had no distraction from his misery. His entire body felt as if it were being unnaturally stretched under his skin while he healed—like the growing pains of a child.
The ghost did not know if he even wanted his power core at such a rate. Valerie's alliance was of great value in ways that his core was not. Once he achieved full power again, would they be forced to return to their old paths? Him, a hated exile, and she, his enemy? And Nina, the girl who dared to draw him pictures and braid his hair—would she look at him in terror when he returned to his true state?
Dan exhaled, closing his eyes as he groaned. It was possible they were all going to die in a failed attack against Pariah Dark—in which case, he would fade out in agony that he'd been too weak to fight by Valerie's side.
The dissonance he felt made him even more miserable.
But then, in the midst of his worries, his blanket suddenly shut off.
He face-faulted as the precious heat faded out into the cool air around him, frost streaking up his bare arms. His elfin ears drooped. He reached for the button to turn the blanket back on, but the mechanism was already warm to the touch, and it seemed the blanket had tripped some kind of safety sensor. It would not turn back on.
The ghost huffed.
And then he began to whine, his red eyes slipping to the door to the outside.
Down the hall, Valerie was deep in sleep, her dreams little more than wisps on the edge of her subconscious. She was exhausted from reviewing battle plans to attack Pariah, exhausted from trying to handle a worried Dan, exhausted with her own jealousy for his time…
But then she heard something from beside her bed. The rustle snapped her awake.
Valerie stiffened, teal eyes wide in bleary half-sleep. She quickly activated her battle suit and turned on her side, pulling a blaster to shoot her intruder—
—and she came face-to-face with a wide-eyed Dan Phantom, who raised his arms in surrender.
They stayed that way for several seconds, Valerie too surprised to shoot and too surprised to immediately put away her weapon. "The hell?" she hissed softly, heart pounding. "How did you—? What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"
Without his tongue, Dan was silent. But the emotion upon his bruised face twisted with a grimace of hesitance and uncertainty.
Valerie's voice was a harsh rasp. "You are not supposed to be outside of the infirmary." She lowered her blaster, eyes still narrowed. She looked him over quickly, thinking that perhaps he'd run to her in fear of a beating from some resistance member—but then Dan had become increasingly more confident in expressing displeasure and lashing out. And the emergency button still hung about his neck, which suggested he could have easily called for her from the infirmary if needed.
The ghost swallowed hard, not looking away from her. He held out his arms to her, which trembled imperceptibly with the pain of his regenerating power core. The frost upon his bare arms was barely visible in the darkness of her room, but he was beginning to glow all on his own.
Valerie hesitated as she gazed more closely at his arms. "You're cold again?"
He nodded.
Her face twisted. "You woke me up just to whine about being cold?"
He huffed at her then, his thin lips pressing into a tight line. "Mmh," he said shortly. But instead of sounding like a demand, as he'd hoped, it sounded like a sorrowful whine.
"Did you break the lock on my door?"
His red eyes widened in innocence.
Valerie hummed. "Then how the hell did you get in here, huh?"
Dan remained silent. He'd slipped through the door as a ghost would, his regenerating power core offering him at least that.
She appeared almost worried at his silence. "So. You're gaining more power." She looked down at her arm's tracking screen, apprehensive. So far, he still did not register with an identifiable ectoplasmic signature. This was good. It meant she still had time to launch her attack against Pariah Dark in a few days, instead of rushing it.
The ghost stared at her, his red eyes pleading. "Mmh," he said again, his baritone voice a rough sound in the back of his throat. He shivered where he stood.
Valerie looked tired and incredulous. "Don't you have a heating blanket? Wasn't that enough?"
He shook his head.
The exhausted woman rubbed her temples as she recalled her armor. The action left her perilously open to attack, wearing only a baggy shirt and shorts. "Well. What the hell do you want me to do about it, huh? I don't have anything here."
Dan tilted his head, and then he reached out to her. His cold, shaking fingertips touched her face, longing for a human warmth.
The powerful woman, for all of her exhaustion and irritation, felt her face heat in a blush, her eyes widening at the silent request. She froze where she sat upon her bed, her jaw dropping.
He was not visiting simply to steal any extra blankets she had. Dan Phantom wanted her to keep him warm.
Suddenly, something felt too intimate and strange, and Valerie felt distant from her own body as she stared up at him in shock. Dan had never been a physically ugly being. Now that he was regaining his health, her latent appreciation for his form had begun to rear its head in odd ways—and here she was, blushing. And that odd feeling in her chest—was her heart racing?
She turned her face, pulling away from his calloused fingers. "No," she said suddenly, voice stern. It would not do to allow for such a breach of protocol. He was her prisoner, and she had already afforded him far more than he deserved. "I'm not your blanket buddy or some kind of portable heater for you to use."
The ghost's underhanded nature seemed to express itself in his innocent expression. "Mmgh," he complained, weakening his voice in just the precise way to capitalize off the bruise on his face and the bandages wrapped around his bare torso and shoulders.
"Dammit, don't play the sympathy card with me," Valerie hissed, lowering her voice. Not even the darkness could hide the flush upon her face or the strain of panic in her tone. Dan was excessively male. And in her room. And making an intimate demand while she sat there dumbly in her pajamas.
He grumped at her, plucking at the thick blankets on her bed. A look of great disappointment tightened his face. The sheets of her bed were warm with her natural heat, which he wanted nothing more than to feel.
"No," Valerie said firmly, her dark face still hot with a flush. She raised her arm and pointed to the door. "Get out of here before anyone sees what you've done."
The ghost stood in the silence, looking at her with great longing. He knew instinctively that he did not deserve to demand things, much less to demand anything of Valerie. The red upon her face suggested she was angry with him and uncomfortable with his request. Her baggy clothes and bare limbs made her seem oddly vulnerable.
It was a sight that gave him pause. Military Defense Commander Valerie Gray, the Ghost Slayer—simply a woman in a bed.
And then his own face began to flush a curious green, stretching up to the tips of his elfin ears. He backed away at her command, focused on her bare knees and neck, and the reality that he so very much wanted to touch her—
Dan materialized out, his presence so slight that not even the temperature of the room changed.
Valerie continued to sit up in bed, grabbing for her blankets in a mix of concern and embarrassment.
Soon enough, the ghost appeared back in the infirmary room. The cold blood rushing to his face made him chill even harder as he leaned against a wall, shamed by how vehemently Valerie had sent him away.
"Get out of here—!"
"Get out of here—!"
His decision to seek out her warmth had been instinctive, inspired by his overarching fear that these would be his last days with her. If the battle with Pariah Dark resulted in Valerie's death, as she herself suggested, then that meant he had very little time left to experience her presence—to feel that he had an anchor in this world—
He swallowed back strange emotions as he leaned against one of the walls, closing his eyes. His limbs were weak with atrophied muscles. His body was little more than damaged goods in every way that counted. Perhaps Valerie's reddened face had not been embarrassment, but a show of disgust. Perhaps he'd made a grave miscalculation regarding their relationship, and Valerie had seen his intrusion into her room as an affront to her own dignity.
Bedrooms were private, intimate places. They were not meant for corrupted spirits like himself to share, even for an innocent reason, with powerful and righteous women like Valerie.
The ghost slid down the wall to sit upon the floor in a daze. Given that Valerie could die soon in battle, perhaps it was a miracle that he did not accidentally walk in on her making love to some human man. Vlad had teased before that Valerie "liked her men clean," which suggested she had a full host of lovers to choose from. His face burned even deeper at the thought, an anxiety sweeping over him. Likely, none of them had been stripped and beaten and humiliated intimately like he had been. Perhaps that was why she wanted him out of her room—because she could not see him as anything but a rape victim to be pitied.
The train of thought made him squeeze his eyes shut in shame and embarrassment. A cold sweat broke out on his skin, and he wrapped his arms around his knees, the bandages on his bare chest crinkling. Instinctively, he pressed his back harder against the solid wall.
And there the once-great Dan Phantom froze, unable to breathe.
Later in the night, one Valerie Gray snuck down the hallway of the resistance in her pajamas, with several blankets and an extra pillow. "The hell am I doing?" she whispered to herself in disbelief, her face still flushed. "He's got blankets. And a bed. He's got a whole fucking room. Why the hell do I need to babysit him all the time, huh?"
Her bare feet were silent against the cold tiles, but her face was an exhausted grimace of guilt. That beaten ghost had stared at her with such longing and misery that she'd been unable to sleep afterward. She'd tossed about for nearly a full hour before she realized that she couldn't nap away, in good conscience, while Dan suffered. The regeneration of his power core was a critical time to reinforce the value of life and of their alliance—to push him aside in his time of need could potentially inspire a smoldering resentment.
Even more, her face still burned with a strange blush. The way he'd touched her face held some kind of meaning she did not understand but wanted to. The fact that Dan Phantom had barged into her private room to beg her for human warmth suggested he was still willing to trust and be vulnerable with her. Those were absolutely necessary lines of communications to keep open as his power core regenerated.
But to what end, Valerie still did not know.
The door to the infirmary room was heavily locked, as if Dan had never escaped. She stood before it for a time, awkwardly readjusting the pillow and blankets in her arms to punch in the security passcode. The mechanisms unlocked, and the door opened. A blast of cold air struck her immediately—the force of which greatly concerned her.
She walked in hesitantly. "Dan?"
The ghost in question sat on the floor with his back against the wall, his arms still wrapped around his legs. He was completely silent and unmoving, his eyes shut. The dim light from the window revealed the frost patterns down his neck and naked shoulders. He was trembling.
"Oh my god," she breathed in concern, dropping her belongings to the floor and moving toward him. "Dan!"
Her movements made his red eyes snap to her. In that moment, he stared at her in great surprise, as if awakening from a nightmare. The fly-away strands from his braid hung unnaturally about his face, as if frozen as well.
She dropped down in front of him, her dark skin goose-bumping from the cold he emanated. "Shit," she whispered, mostly to herself. "I didn't know you were this bad." Her lips pressed tightly together in worry as she touched his face. "I shouldn't have brushed you off."
For Dan, her human heat was a fire compared to the winter storm in his veins. He leaned into her touch in awe, the frost on his cheek melting upon contact. He unstuck his cold, stiff fingers to touch her hand.
Her face began to flush once again, and she pulled away briefly to grab for a blanket she'd dropped on the floor. "But you didn't even try to take care of yourself." She unfolded the thick fleece and settled it across his shoulders with a firm snap of the fabric. "Here you are, shivering on the floor and not even in bed. What is this, some kind of passive-aggressive way to make me feel guilty? Because it's working."
The ghost huffed at her, still trembling as he stiffly pulled the blanket tighter around himself. His expression suggested he was caught between gratefulness at her return and irritation that she accused him of underhanded intentions. "Mmh," he disagreed sharply.
Valerie turned away from him then, and she pulled at the edge of the heated blanket that hung off the side of the bed. To her surprise, she noticed that a part of the cord to the outlet had been nicked. The blanket would not turn on at all. She sent Dan a sideways glance. "Ok, point taken, but a bed's still a lot softer than the floor. What were you thinking?"
He turned his face away, and the dim light of the room revealed that in the last hour, his bruised eye had healed. He pressed himself a bit harder against the wall, as if to protect himself further.
Valerie caught the instinctive move and then felt a great wave of guilt barrel through her. Her fingers tightened into the broken heating blanket. At times, she'd forgotten the full extent of Dan's abuse during his imprisonment at Pariah Dark's castle. She swallowed hard. "No one's going to hurt you here."
The emergency button he wore around his neck swung in the air as he slumped forward, jaw tight. He simply continued to shiver, his expression flickering with shame. I know, he seemed to say. Frost reappeared at the tips of his fingers, even as he tried to burrow himself deeper into the blanket. And then he sneezed unexpectedly, the force sending a new pattern of frost over his body and jerking his braid to fall over his shoulder.
Dan's actions were so wrought with misery that it made Valerie bite her lip. She set down the shorted heating blanket and said, "…God dammit. You're like a kicked puppy, and it's painful." Then she unfolded another thick blanket and wrapped it around her own body. She kneeled to sit on the floor beside him, her loose curls tumbling.
He watched her, eyes wide.
She leaned back against the wall with a sigh. Her strong shoulder pressed against his, her heat seeping into his blanket, and then into him. She then turned to him, their faces inches away.
She said hesitantly, "I'll talk to Kwan about getting another heating blanket for you tomorrow. And sorry I was short with you. You just, uh, surprised me."
His eyes searched hers, not quite listening because he was far too focused on the fact that he could feel her—that glorious, human warmth spreading like a fire from his side to the rest of him, inspiring a flush of green across his cheeks—
Valerie readjusted herself to lean her heavy cheek against his broad shoulder like a pillow, closing her eyes. "I know you're a heat leech," she said tiredly, voice muffled and blush hidden by the fabric. "But I need some sleep too. So don't try anything funny."
Dan gave a noise of false indignation. Her unruly curls tickled his neck and chin in a pleasant way, her scent wrapping about him. It was difficult to feel true offense at her nicknames for him. Especially compared to his awe that Valerie Gray willingly touched him so, knowing his history.
He leaned his head against the top of hers, nuzzling his cold nose into her dark curls. She smelled of sand and exotic flowers, and he reveled in how she leaned against him, accepting his touch further as her breath slowed with sleep. This—everything about it—was vulnerability and trust. Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer was fully at his mercy, and he was at hers.
His tense muscles relaxed as time passed. Soon enough, even he drifted off to sleep, his memories shut away by Valerie's calming presence.
Valerie awoke early in the morning, disoriented. She was lying on her side, wrapped in blankets with her head upon a pillow. Immediately, she tensed. She planted her hand on the floor to lift herself up, blowing a curl out of her face.
Not far away, Dan was sitting on the floor, unwrapping bandages from his chest and shoulders. His blue pallor was deep and flushed with healthy afterlife. The angles of his body seemed sturdier, his skin without scars or scabs.
She found herself staring in shock.
The ghost felt her gaze and turned to her, his unbraided hair falling about his handsome face and bare shoulders. "Valerie," he greeted, his baritone voice a vibration throughout the room.
She blinked sleepily. And then her eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat. "Did you just speak?" she asked incredulously, thinking for a second she had hallucinated it.
Dan smiled merrily, then licked his lips with his forked tongue, the edges of which were long and fully regenerated.
Valerie's fingers tightened into the blankets in shock, the sleep in her body disappearing. A great emotion bubbled within her at the sound of his voice. It inspired her full lips to split wide. "You spoke!" she said again.
He placed his hand at the base of his throat. "Still healing," he said. His normally smooth, suave baritone was rougher with every additional word. "Nerves…hard to control."
In curiosity, she crawled out of the blankets toward him, her baggy shirt hanging off her frame. She sat on her knees before him, reaching up to his chin. "How did you grow back your whole tongue overnight?" With little preamble, she opened up his mouth. He gave a noise of surprise at her intrusion but allowed her to peer into his mouth.
Like this, her face was only inches from his, and he could feel the pressure between them, his healed skin prickling with her heat. A spark of mischief stole into him now that he felt more whole. He swept his long snake tongue out at her hand and licked her solidly.
Valerie made a noise of surprise and pulled back, eyes wide. Her knuckles were sopping wet with his glowing spit, and she looked annoyed and amused at the same time. "What'd you do that for?"
His handsome face split into a grin. It seemed he'd worn out his voice temporarily, as he shrugged and then went back to unraveling the last bandage from his arm, revealing smooth skin. He delighted in feeling no pain as he moved. His dead heart felt light.
The woman flushed red as she looked down at his bare chest, and she hesitantly wiped her hand on her shirt, her fingers still glowing. She'd always known Phantom had a playful side, but this was the first time she'd seen it in years. "You're obviously feeling better," she deadpanned, then felt a tinge of nervousness. She activated the arm of her battle suit, eyes narrowing at the ectoplasmic tracker.
Dan tensed at the sound, his blood-red eyes focusing on her armored hand, as if expecting her to attack him for his impudence. The joy left him—perhaps being healed meant she no longer saw him as a valued prisoner but instead a threat.
Valerie looked back up at the movement, sheepish. "I'm just checking the tracker to see if you register."
He paused, searching her eyes. He seemed to ask, So you are pleased that I have healed?
"Don't look so scared," she said. "It's just, you do register as an ectoplasmic form now." She turned a bit to show him. "Could be why you're healing faster."
His head tilted like a dog's as he stared at the screen on her arm. He knew from experience that prior to Pariah Dark, his ectoplasmic signature had sparked red and pulsed throughout the whole of the screen. Now, the remains of Dan Phantom were simply a small green dot, the signature itself not even recognizable as his own.
The ghost reached out to touch the screen with his calloused fingertip. "Insignificant," he complained, before his face twisted.
Valerie turned to look at him. "And that's a good thing," she said, shutting down the screen and deactivating the armor. It left her sitting cross-legged in her pajamas beside him on the floor. "I can't have Pariah Dark sniffing us out. At least this way, any passing ghost would think you're just some small fry we captured."
His red eyes—a deeper, healthier wine color now—slid to hers in slight irritation. He grumped a bit at being called a small fry.
Valerie narrowed her eyes at him playfully, picking up on his emotions. Now that he was healing, it seemed Dan had more time and energy to pool into his pride. Good. She liked him with a little backbone. "If you wanna upgrade from small fry, buddy, then you better wait a while."
The truth was that he did not know if he could. Valerie's human electromagnetic field, as well as that of the other nearby humans, was strong and radiating a free, natural energy that his starving power core could convert into ghost energy. Perhaps on some subconscious level, that was why he was so drawn to Valerie the previous evening—she was an open power source, capable of providing the extra energy his power core needed to heal his tongue, which was the final major tax on his system.
Dan rubbed his throat, feeling his unused vocal chords complain at him for speaking. "If I heal," he pressed, "I can go with you to battle."
She crossed her arms. "I can't allow that," she said flatly. "You're still weak, and even if you weren't, Pariah Dark would sense you. Like I said. That would give us away for a surprise attack."
He pursed his line lips. Before he could argue another point, she poked him in the chest.
Her voice was stern but quiet. "And I know you're emotionally compromised. A battle is no place for you to be."
He did not like being poked. His face tightened, and he looked away to hide his eyes from her. He felt oddly mute again, as if he could not quite process what she meant by emotionally compromised. The term suggested he was still broken, even if his body were whole. He desperately wanted his healed body to forget its past. He wanted Valerie to forget his past.
But he knew she was right.
The ghost grumped, suddenly feeling a flush of shame overcome him.
Valerie dared to ask then, "Why do you wanna fight, anyway? You think I can't handle a battle or two?"
Dan said, voice rough and hesitant, "You are strong. But he is stronger."
Valerie paused for a time, searching his eyes. "No," she said firmly. "I'm stronger because I have something worth fighting for."
Later, Valerie found herself walking through the research and development division of the resistance, with Dan trailing closely behind her. The people of the Amity Park Resistance immediately noticed Dan's attachment to Valerie. He listened intently for any word from her mouth and obeyed any of her orders. But when anyone else came within a certain distance, he hissed in suspicion or glared at them.
They began to see him as a wild dog that Valerie had trained. This made them simultaneously leery of Dan (his loyalty to Valerie did not guarantee their safety) and leery of Valerie (she controlled the shadow of death).
Valerie pulled a new blaster off the wall of her personal armory. Her expert hands slid across the sleek metal, testing its construction. "I can't take you beyond this point," she said to Dan. Then she holstered the blaster on her hip. "Security and stuff, you know."
The ghost, who was a full head taller than her, crossed his arms and grumped.
Valerie was not having any of it. "I'm serious," she said again. "I need you stay put while I grab the upgrades for my suit."
He still did not look impressed. You doubt me, he seemed to complain.
"No, you just don't have clearance to join me, and I don't want the automatic security to shoot you." And then she pulled something out of the pocket on her military jacket.
Dan's ears perked, and his blood-red eyes widened in curiosity.
It was, of all things, a piece of candy—a lollipop, one of the more coveted treats remaining in Amity Park. Valerie handed it to him and said, "Stay here, and count how many licks it takes to eat the whole thing. I bet you I'll be back before you can finish it."
The ghost accepted the treat and gave her a huffy look at the ridiculous order. I am not a child, his expression seemed to say. But he silently began to unwrap the treat and popped it in his mouth, disgruntled until the taste of sweet, grape-tasting sugar melted upon his tongue.
Valerie patted his arm. "Don't forget to count," she teased. And then she backed away into another hall, entering her passcode to access a vault.
Meanwhile, a dozen or so resistance members watched as Dan suddenly crunched his fangs into the lollipop. One, he thought mischievously as he delighted in the taste. He briefly darted his gaze toward the others in the room, and a look of utter irritation overwhelmed him, recognizing a few as those who had laughed when Dash had beaten him. They all quickly looked away, not daring to consider how this healed Phantom would lash out.
Only two resistance members dared to approach. "Ah, Phantom," called out the aged, deep voice of Vladimir Masters. He appeared, holding the hand of the little girl Nina. "There you are. This one has been looking for you."
Dan turned to face his allies, still holding the lollipop stem between his lips. Nina was carrying her beloved hairbrush and various ties on her wrist. It meant she wanted to braid his hair again. The thought pleased him, and so he smiled, revealing grape-colored fangs.
The girl smiled back with a giggle, speaking a silent language that only the two of them seemed to understand.
Vlad, in mild concern, turned his head in search of Valerie. "You are being very well-behaved today," he murmured, "standing here all by yourself. Valerie must greatly trust you."
The ghost tilted his head, calculating to what extent Vlad was complimenting or patronizing him. Knowing Vlad, it was a little of both. He remained silent, desiring to save his voice for Valerie alone, given how much energy it took. Instead, he shot a dark look at the old man. Then he dared to pull the lollipop stem from his mouth, and he flung it.
Vlad sputtered as he narrowly avoided the small projectile, and he demanded, "Do not throw your litter at me, young man."
Dan's eyes glinted, a spark of his old self shining through. He liked upsetting Vlad.
Nina broke away from Vlad to grab Dan's large hand, her small, dark fingers managing to wrap around only a few of his own. She pulled on him slightly. "Can I braid your hair again? It's so soft. And it needs it, bad."
He nodded.
And so there on the floor in the research and development division, Dan sat cross-legged while the girl sectioned his hair and began to braid it tightly, her high voice a coo in his ear. Vlad chose to sit atop one of the nearby counters, surveying them like a dutiful babysitter.
And that was how one Valerie Gray found them several minutes later, with Nina tying up Dan's braid while he preened under her attention. Valerie beheld them from a distance as she shouldered her bag of additional armor, her head tilting. In looking at them like this, she could almost forget about the looming battle. Dan's handsome face was stretched in an open smile while Vlad said something almost fatherly.
But the clink of a new armored panel against another reached Dan's sharp ears, and his eyes snapped to her, immediately gauging the odd bag she now carried. He tensed at the sight of sharp metal glimmering in the light, the joy in his eyes dimming.
Valerie stepped forward, guilty that she'd broken the idyllic moment. "I'm back," she called out. She set the bag down and asked, "How many licks did it take to get to the center of the lollipop?"
Dan's eyes narrowed at the distraction, and he raised his index finger. One, he said silently.
She face-faulted. "You cheated," she accused.
And you left me, he challenged. He tilted his chin at the bag. For that.
Valerie pressed, "Seriously, I'm gone for like ten minutes, and you cop an attitude? R and D's been working on some additions to my suit to make it stand up to stronger forces. I'd think you'd be happy about that."
His lips pressed tightly together. He seemed unable to express contradicting emotions. A stronger suit meant she was more likely to survive. A stronger suit, however, also meant that she was planning to take on Pariah Dark to a greater extent—perhaps even in singular combat.
Nina finished tying off Dan's braid, her dark hands still stroking down his hair. "What does your new armor look like, Commander Gray?"
She made a face as she leaned over and opened the bag. "Like a tank," she said wryly. "It's supposed to latch onto my usual suit—I hope I can move in the damn thing." And then she pulled out a thick, armored panel. It was pure black and without shine. She suddenly activated her battle suit, and the sleek armor stretched over her skin.
Dan watched tensely as the commander jammed the panel against her arm, and it glowed briefly. Then the edges of the panel locked into place. Her arm looked bulky, distorting the outline of her lithe muscles into heavy and sharp angles.
He leaned forward, pulling away from Nina. His long fingers latched onto another armored panel from the bag, and he pulled it out as he stood up. He tapped the heavy metal. It was an unusual substance, absorbing the tap of his finger without a sound. "Hnn." His baritone voice was a short noise of suspicion; he was not convinced it could keep her safe.
Valerie looked at him tiredly. "It's got a material called graphene that can take a hit up to 100 gigapascals. That's a thousand times what you could do at full power."
The ghost angled a brow at her. He did not question that Valerie would have so accurately measured his capabilities, and he found himself pleased at her people's technological advancements. Valerie had always been a formidable opponent, in part because of her consistent ability to evolve with new technology. He turned the armor about in his hands, feeling an increased hope. With such a strong material, perhaps she would have a chance at survival.
"What's graphene?" Nina dared to ask, coming up to Dan and standing on her tip toes to see the panel. "And how much is a 100 giga—uh, things?"
Vlad stood up from the counter. "Graphene is a special type of carbon that is very strong. Despite how thin it is beneath its steel casing, 100 gigapascals equals 14 million pounds of force per square inch."
Nina's brown eyes widened to the size of dinner platters. "Fourteen million?"
The old man nodded and reached out to ruffle her hair. "I helped to synthesize the material, in hopes of keeping our dear commander alive."
Dan looked to him in that moment, searching his eyes as he held the armored panel. The ghost's hope was so hesitant and fearful that he seemed much younger. "But the force," he said. His voice was rough. "She would die from internal injuries, despite the integrity of the armor."
Vlad stared at the younger man, his jaw dropping. He looked to Valerie, then at Nina, and then back at Dan. "Did I just—? Did you just speak?"
The ghost looked unamused. "What shock absorption technology have you included alongside your new material?" he pressed. His voice was growing weak again from disuse.
Valerie cut in. "Graphene absorbs the force it takes," she said, gently pulling the armor from Dan's hands. "I won't feel a thing."
Dan looked at her, mouth in a thin, light line. "Have you tested it?" he demanded shortly.
"Well, not up to 100 gigapascals with me inside it," she said dryly. "But we've done some preliminary tests, yes." She snapped the other panel onto her arm, and it latched on quickly.
"Excuse me, am I the only one surprised that he can speak?" Vlad cut in with great consternation. "Young man, were you giving me and Nina the silent treatment on purpose?"
Dan ignored him and instead grabbed another armored panel. He looked haunted. "Can your other soldiers not wear this…graphene and fight instead of you?"
Valerie stared at the haggard stress on his face. She patted his cheek. "It's expensive stuff and takes forever to make too. We just had time for the one. And you know I'm the best qualified to fight superpowered jerks."
His thin lips dared to twitch, but the light did not leave his eyes.
Valerie Gray was going to lead a battle against Pariah Dark at first light. Not even braided hair or drawn pictures or lollipops could make Dan smile again.
That night, Valerie struggled to sleep, staring up at the ceiling as her heart pounded. She desperately needed the rest, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw only battle plans and the consequences of a possible failure. She'd placed a sloppily written will on her bedside table in the event that she died in the battle. The few possessions she had would go to her father, along with a handwritten note about just how much she loved him. The plan that her father would allow Dan to escape to the farthest reaches of the Ghost Zone was still in place.
It made her breathe uneasily, to think of oblivion—the nothingness of death—
She put her hands over her eyes and moaned, damning herself for not being stronger. She'd slept hard as a rock most nights before a big battle with the infamous Dan Phantom. But maybe that didn't count because she knew him. She'd known how to spiral him into an uncontrolled tantrum or a ridiculous monologue. He had been overconfident and narrow-minded, whereas Pariah Dark was an ancient, calculating being who'd mutilated Phantom and broken him into a submissive mute without difficulty.
The only reason Dan even existed still was because Pariah Dark had wanted him to suffer a humiliating end.
"Dammit," she breathed to herself, voice breaking. "God dammit, I need to sleep."
(Would her plans work? Or would he gain control and torture her too?)
(Would she break before she died?)
(Would she be strong enough not to cry?)
The woman turned on her side, facing out at the wall of her small room, upon which hung her various military medals and pictures of her friends and father. Her breath became unsteady, thinking about Dan's collapsed, skeletal body bleeding out on the ground where Pariah Dark had thrown him. "Just go to sleep, just—"
"—Valerie?" came a familiar, baritone voice. The lilt was smooth now, effortless like how the lines of Dan Phantom's body materialized from out of the wall. He still wore an old flannel shirt and dark sweatpants with his hair braided back. His blood-red eyes were narrowed in concern.
"Shit," she breathed, not even aware she had cursed out loud. She quickly tried to wipe her face and sat up. Her voice hardened. "You're not supposed to be outside of your room."
He did not look impressed. "You are distressed," he said. "I could hear your heart pounding and you talking to yourself."
The knowledge of Dan's increasing senses made her face tinge red in horror. He'd always had honed senses, but Valerie suspected that she'd never known the full extent of those powers until now. "You spying on me?" she accused, in hopes of distracting him.
His handsome face hardened with displeasure. "You did not forsake me in my distress. Why ignore yours?"
The strong woman paused, mind racing. She had words on the tip of her mouth—I'm a fucking commander, I don't need help, I don't want pity—but they all sank beneath the weight of Dan's hard gaze.
"You can't help me," she said eventually, voice strained. "Go back to your bed and leave me alone. I need to get some sleep."
The ghost huffed at her. "No." He was becoming more difficult to command with every passing day, more easily irritated and prideful—which should have concerned her. But he wielded those aspects of his personality for a different purpose than before. "I will not ignore that you are crying."
"I'm not crying," she hissed, rapidly blinking her eyes to hide the burning she felt.
"Valerie." Her name was soft on his mouth. He said nothing more but stared at her straight.
She could not hold his gaze without her eyes watering up. It made her seem far younger than she was. "Dammit," she whispered, wiping her face again, then pushing her curls back. "I just need sleep, okay? It's not a big deal or anything. I'm fine. And I want you to leave—that's an order."
The tall shadow did not move. Despite his slimmer muscles and his braid, he was still imposing when he wanted to be. He lingered like the ghost he was, silent.
Valerie's lip quivered. "Don't make me fight you."
He narrowed his blood-red eyes, tilting his head in a way that reminded her of old times. "You know my secrets," he said, almost frustrated. "Why do you hide yours from me?"
Her breath hitched. "Because it's different." And then her voice broke on the last word, and she shakily tried to rein herself in, only to feel her eyes burn.
For a second, she thought she'd gotten herself back under control. "It's different."
And then the dam broke inside of her, her breath hitched.
In an instant, Dan was sitting before her, a solid weight on her bed. He pulled her to him, blankets and all, and wrapped her up in a familiar embrace. He felt her strong hands clamp onto him, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt as she fought down tears. But touch seemed to break her more. Her muffled breath hitched several times as he ran his fingers down her curly hair.
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, voice quick, as if afraid of her confession. Tears slipped down her face as her heart pounded with anxiety. "I don't know."
The events of the last few weeks had permanently altered the nature of their relationship. She supposed it was fair that he see her in a moment of weakness, after having seen him in several. His blue flannel shirt soaked up her tears. He smelled like soap and winter, and his healing power core was a soft vibration in her ear.
His voice—a precious sound, even with his tongue regenerated—was like a smooth wave washing over her. "If anyone can succeed, it is you."
Her voice was quiet against his shirt. "But you don't really think I'll win," she whispered. A pained laugh escaped her. "I know you don't. A lot of people feel the same way—that it'd be better to just call off the whole thing. Be slaves to Pariah Dark."
He continued to stroke her hair for some time. He knew he could not join in her battle, but if he could be her strength in that moment, perhaps it was enough. "You have never lost a battle that mattered. You are capable of winning."
She leaned against him a bit harder then, as if willing herself to disappear into his shirt. "I know." Things between them were so terribly muddy. He was no longer quite a prisoner, and she no longer his jailkeeper. They were not enemies, and yet they had been for years. "Don't say anything about this. It's stupid. Just a lack of sleep." Perhaps it had become acceptable for him to lean on her, but the Red Huntress could not lean on him for moral or emotional support.
She just couldn't. Even if she was.
He leaned his head against hers and sighed. "I will say nothing."
An odd relief came over her then. She closed her exhausted eyes as she relaxed into him, forcing herself to focus on how soft his flannel shirt was and how comforting his arms were. They were the arms of someone who had failed against Pariah Dark and had survived. She found that to be a nice thought, even if she knew how his mind struggled under the weight of it.
He was solid, constant presence.
Dan continued to hold her as she slowly fell asleep, basking in her living breath for as long as he could.
Early in the morning found Valerie standing tall, eyes hard as she stared ahead. Various resistance members flurried about, latching on her armor and confirming the arsenal she had available to her. Her tears had long dried, the beat of her heart steady as a war drum.
"Alpha and beta squadrons are prepared for flight," her father said, voice stressed as he glanced at a tablet in his hands. The computer screen flashed with various messages. "I've got confirmation from Lieutenant Baxter that heavy artillery has been loaded onto the jets, including our full arsenal of nuclear warheads."
Plan B, if Valerie and her army were to fail, was to nuke the area and ensure that Pariah Dark would never escape his lair to torture Amity Park again. Given the atomic nature of the weapons, nuclear warheads were just as destructive in the Ghost Zone as they were in the human world. To detonate even one would likely mean the death of all remaining soldiers on the battlefield—a price they were willing to pay if it meant humanity's freedom from the king.
Valerie swallowed hard. "Dad," she said, "I want your word on this. If you feel you have the tactical advantage, activate the access codes, even if I'm not at a safe minimum distance."
The father's face was raw and haggard. "Baby girl, don't—"
"—I mean it," she warned. "We have ten thousand people here, and I don't want you to put my life over everyone else's."
Damon searched her eyes. "I won't activate it," he said, "as long as you're alive."
It was as close to a yes as she was going to get.
She nodded in return, feeling her eyes begin to burn. "I'll do my best," she said, her usual, snappy rasp of a voice weakening. "I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't have to push that button."
Her father had bloodshot eyes already, as if he had been crying before. They began to mist again. "I want you to do everything you can to come back alive, you hear?" His voice hitched on the last word.
Valerie did not dare to speak, for fear that it would inspire tears to fall down her cheeks. Instead, she nodded again in silence, her movements jerky. One of the assistants latched her left shoulder plate onto her battle suit, and it sent a cold chill through her. She looked to the right, searching for a familiar shadow. And there he was, the infamous Dan Phantom, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.
Nina had freshly braided his hair once more, the ends sporting a glittery purple tie. The action had made Damon Gray slightly more inclined to allow Dan into the main hangar. Perhaps it had been a calculated decision on the part of Nina, who seemed to understand more than she let on.
Dan's red eyes roved over Valerie in a dark worry, checking every panel on her suit to ensure everything was in place. The graphene-steel armor additions did not glimmer in the harsh lights. She seemed somehow larger than life in her bulkier battle suit. Untouchable. Invincible—except for her missing helmet, which she held in her hands. He could hear her heart pounding and her shallow breath.
Her eyes met his for a time, and they spoke in a language only they knew.
And then he walked forward toward them. Valerie's father eyed him in great suspicion, still uncomfortable with the freedom the increasingly powerful prisoner had. Without a word, Dan gently pulled the helmet from Valerie's armored hands. The metal was reinforced like the rest of her battle suit, and it was cold to touch.
Several squadrons marched by to stand at the gates, their blasters shining harshly.
In the midst of the activity, Dan raised the helmet over her head and lowered it until its mechanisms snapped into place against her neck. Then the helmet's targeting systems turned on and began calibrating. The visor of her helmet darkened to black before it faded to its usual, transparent red.
It had been one last desperate attempt to touch her.
He searched her eyes as he whispered, "Be safe." His deep baritone echoed as it always did. But the inflections in his voice were off. He no longer sounded arrogant or diabolical. He simply sounded tired.
She managed to quirk a brow, and then she raised her armored finger in warning. "Be good. If I come back to hear you've mouthed off to anyone or even hurt a bird, I'm kicking you. And it'll hurt like a bitch with this armor."
The good-natured lilt of her voice inspired a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I guarantee nothing."
"I'm serious, be good."
He huffed at her, reaching out to touch her visor. He ran his long fingers down the outline of her face, mourning that she was already so far away. "Very well." And then he pulled back.
Damon watched the exchange tensely, noting Dan's odd way of expressing attachment to Valerie. He did not want to think about what it meant, and so he looked back down at his tablet, which was flashing with new messages from various other resistance members. "The gamma to omega squadrons are ready to launch. Control says they've activated everyone's life tracker, including yours. Looks like they're waiting on you to give the green light."
Valerie inhaled deeply, catching the scent of her father's cologne. "Right. I guess that's my cue."
Damon shoved the tablet into Dan's hands, and the ghost caught it in a flinch of surprise. "Hold this." And then moved to hug his armored daughter with his one arm, one final time. "I love you, baby girl. I love you so much."
She wrapped her father up in a gentle hug, her armor clanking, and whispered softly, "I love you too, daddy."
His eyes watered fully in that moment. When he blinked, he did not bother to wipe away the tears that slipped down his wrinkled cheek. He pulled away with great reluctance. "I wish I didn't have to say this. But…go save the world like you always do."
Valerie nodded. "You know my frequency." And then she activated her jet sled and flew to the front of her army, which included one-hundred brave souls from the resistance. Without a word, they all began to move as one, flying out of the border of Amity Park, nearly glowing with the metal of their weapons.
Dan felt distant in that moment as he watched Valerie fly away into the distance of the Ghost Zone, as if he were dreaming.
As if none of it were real.
It would be over an hour before the army reached Pariah Dark's castle.
In his sudden, dissociative anxiety, he clenched Damon's tablet so hard that the screen cracked. His red eyes blinked in surprise, and he looked down at the broken technology in his hand. Then he froze in panic that he had just unintentionally destroyed property that belonged to Valerie's father.
Damon suddenly swiped it back from him. His face was still streaked with tears, but his voice was dark with disapproval. "Two minutes," he said shortly. "I trust you with something for two minutes, and you can't even handle that."
Without Valerie to mediate between them, Dan found himself at a loss for how to deal with Damon. His face twisted in an odd way, caught between a sharp, snarky retort and amazement that the father had not yet tried to shoot him or lock him back up.
Then the old man grew tired as he stared at Dan. "Well, come on, boy. Valerie might think you're just a pet baby deer—" Dan made a face— "but if you have time to break my tablet, then you have time to follow me." He turned and began to walk away.
Dan paused, hesitant and confused.
Damon stopped and turned back. "That was an order, boy. Get those legs working and follow me."
The ghost's face flushed—and he began to follow almost on instinct, the tone of Damon's voice mimicking that of Valerie's whenever she was in an irritated mood.
Damon said shortly, "From this point on, you'll call me sir. You'll take any order I give you. You will not, under any circumstance, lose control of that tongue or your excuse for a brain—or so help me, I will shoot you. You got that?"
Dan barely had time to feel indignant. Instead, his red eyes were wide as he trailed after Damon, nodding. Valerie would be mad if she came back, only to discover that he'd been offered great freedoms for a prisoner and had managed to get them all revoked, like some disciplined child.
(He wanted to make her proud.)
Damon turned to give him a strange look. "What, you can't say, 'Yes, sir?'"
The ghost's baritone voice was hesitant. "Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I can." His face twisted as he flushed again, and he fell silent. His pride bent hard, bristling beneath his skin. Damon was establishing a hierarchy with them and confirming Dan's submission to it.
But Damon was not like Vlad, who cared about him and indulged minor rebellion with humor, nor Valerie, who had hard-earned his submission. That made things more difficult. The old spark of himself, from before Pariah Dark, surged in discontent.
Perhaps Damon knew that.
The ghost set his jaw as he followed Damon. "What would you have me do under your command?" He halfway imagined the father would abuse his power and turn him into little more than a slave or a beast of burden.
Instead, it was far worse.
A few minutes later, Dan found himself in a small office connected to central command. It appeared to be an auxiliary office of Damon's.
The father in question set down the broken tablet, and he picked up a small vial from a set on the nearby desk. "This," he said, "is a concentrated tranquilizer designed to work on ghosts. I want you to drink it, right now."
Dan blinked.
"Did you hear what I said?" Damon asked. "That was an order."
The ghost exhaled in a strange way. His red eyes focused on the vial as his face tightened, and every muscle in his body tensed. The room suddenly felt cold. "Tranquilizer?" he repeated dumbly.
"…I can't have you running loose while Valerie is gone," Damon said.
Dan swallowed hard. "You want to drug me as a means of control."
You do not trust me.
"You might be docile now. But if Valerie gets into trouble, you'll lose whatever control you have over your base instincts." Damon's eye was hard. "When Nina was in trouble, you forgot yourself and your place. I can only imagine what you'd do if it were Valerie. So this tranquilizer will make you sleep until it's all over."
The ghost seemed frozen in his spot, staring at the father in disbelief. "You are ordering me to drink a poison."
"This is a test, Phantom," Damon said shortly. His eye glimmered the way Valerie's would, but without any of her softness. "Pass, and I'll lighten the charges that Amity Park still wants to level against you in court. It would mean potentially allowing you to walk in my city without chains and a muzzle. Fail, and I'll add to those charges and ensure you pay for your crimes in full. Your choice."
The ghost turned the vial in his hand, staring at the odd, glowing liquid. He knew that only a few saw his mutilation under Pariah Dark as full retribution for his crimes. The complaints against Valerie's leniency with him had been growing. "And…if I drink it, I will pass?"
Damon nodded.
Dan's face twisted. "How do I know you are not attempting to murder me? That I will wake up at all?"
"You have to trust me," the father said simply. "You'll either wake up here, if Valerie survives, or you'll wake up on an escape ship in the farthest reaches of the Ghost Zone, as promised, if she dies." His voice weakened at the latter option.
Dan momentarily considered throwing the vial and attacking Damon. It was a base instinct—destruction, rebellion.
"I'm serious," Valerie's voice echoed in his mind, "be good."
The ghost said nothing for a time, weighing his options. "How long would I sleep?"
"Long enough. Maybe a day."
His face faulted.
"I'm serious, be good."
His knuckles turned white against the glass of the vial. He desired to crush it in his hand suddenly, but he looked back up at Damon, lips pressed tightly together. "Valerie dislikes my violence. I will not rampage again, nor do I have the strength for it."
Damon huffed a bit. "You're a handful even without your powers. Drink that vial, or I'll have you imprisoned for obstructing this mission. No one can afford to babysit you right now."
The ghost's red eyes narrowed. A great flare of anger overcame him. With a jerky movement, he tilted the vial back against his lips and felt the cool power slip into his mouth. It tasted like metal, and he swallowed with a twist of his face. "You will not slander me," he said. Already, the room was beginning to spin. He felt weightless. "I am not some mindless monster that you th-think—V-val—"
It hit him like a wall.
The next thing he knew, Damon's hand had grabbed his arm, breaking his fall. His knees still hit the floor with a solid thud.
Dan's red eyes widened as the world tilted in an odd way, his worn power core flickering. For a moment, he feared Damon was snuffing out his afterlife—that it was all a lie—betrayed—
"I'm serious, be good."
"'m good," the ghost slurred, unable to keep his eyes open. His voice hardened to convince himself. "'m good."
He suddenly felt as if he were back in a cell in Pariah Dark's castle, attempting to bow to the king to avoid another beating—but his own mutilated body would not let him—
He swayed, and the blurry mass that was Damon Gray instinctively kneeled before him, catching him before he could fall forward. Dan was trembling, his mind scattered as a panic attack overwhelmed him. He barely felt the human man's warmth as he collapsed against him, limbless. "G-good." His tongue became fully paralyzed, making his eyes burn with tears.
The older man grunted with surprise at the ghost's weight. He sounded distant and exhausted, as if there were an unbreachable chasm between them. He lowered Dan fully to the ground, his arm shaking from the effort. "Just…go to sleep."
Dan thought of Valerie as his vision began to pixelate into black. He felt the tiles of the floor leech a stark chill into his side and his face.
But a crackling sound echoed then, along with a sigh from Damon. "Valerie, it's me. I secured Phantom using the tranquilizer."
Another crackle, like static from a communication device. Valerie's voice sounded over it with worry. "Is he okay? Are you okay?"
Damon hesitated, then said, "Yes. He took the order like you said he would."
"…Good."
And then, darkness.
A/N: Hi, everyone! Apologies for the extended delay. I usually try to update once a month but got behind per my final exams, as well as some family stuff. In good news, I am done with classes for now! Hopefully this means I can be better about updating on time.
As a shameless plug for some side projects, there is a new Dark Gray comic in development! Lady Audentium just began uploading "Imperium" on her tumblr. I had the privilege of helping to develop its plot, and Audi's taken that forward and turned it into a visually stunning comic. If you get the chance, please go to her tumblr and support her dark gray project!
For Deliverance, the Karma thread is officially moving into its battle arc. I had an interesting time with this chapter because Karma!Dan is regaining parts of who he is, and yet he isn't the old Phantom. I hope that how I have characterized him here is realistic, haha.
So what would you like to see next? A second update to Karma, or would you prefer an Aftermath or all-new one-shot?
Please let me know your thoughts, questions, constructive criticisms, and ideas! Thanks!
