They have the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

Maddie can't recall the last time they bought eggs. Still, the expiration date isn't for another two days and they've started humming ominously yet, so they should be safe enough. She cracks one smartly against the edge of the pan, adding it in. At the stove Jack's laying out thick strips of bacon. He hums almost cheerfully as he grabs the lemon pepper off the spice rack. It almost sounds convincing.

She can't remember the last time they cooked breakfast either. A proper breakfast, meant to be shared and enjoyed at the table rather than something gulped down on the go. Surely they must have when Jazz came home for winter break—

"Oh, no."

"What's up, babycakes?"

"Jazz."

Jack blinks at her blankly for a second before going pale with dismay. "Jazz. Oh my god, she doesn't know yet."

"I completely forgot—"

"Me too. Ah, she'll skin us alive for not calling her ASAP—"

"I'll call her now."

"Yeah, of course, let me—" He pulls the whisk out of her hand and nudges her aside. "Tell her hi."

"Right—" Where's the house phone? Where is it? Off the hook again; it's no wonder it's always dead whenever she wants to make a phone call. No, ah, there it is, on the hook after all—

She walks quickly into the living room, sinking stiffly into the high-backed chair Jack likes to do his needlepoint in. Her mouth tastes sour, her stomach clenching and her chest tight. Maybe coffee on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Maybe she should wait to call until after breakfast. It's early. Jazz might be in class, or sleeping in, or—

She dials anyway.

It takes four rings before Jazz picks up. In the background fuzz Maddie can hear another girl talking over the low thumping of music. "Hello?"

"Ah—good morning, sweetie! It's Mom."

"Oh, hi Mom!" A burst of laughter, muffled voices jeering cheerfully. "Oh, jeez. Hang on a sec', Mom, my roommates are being obnoxious." The giggling protests ("We are not!" "You're obnoxious!" "Aww, I'm wounded.") and the music fade away. Jazz sounds a little breathless when she speaks again. "Sorry about that. What's up? You never call this early."

"I... that is, Danny..."

"Mom?"

It should be so easy to say yet her throat feels desert dry, her voice stolen away. "He—he's come home."

"I can barely hear you. Are you okay?"

She clears her throat. "Danny's home."

Silence stretches for so long Maddie takes the phone away from her ear to make sure it hasn't died after all. "...What?"

"Late last night," she clarifies. "We got home late after some attacks. He—he was just waiting for us on the couch. He's home, sweetie."

"Oh—god. I—oh my god. Where was—? Where did—?" There's a burst of static, an explosive exhale distorting the reception as Jazz tries to get a grip. "How is he?"

Maddie sighs too, folding up to rest her head in one hand and shut her eyes a moment. Her side aches from where Skulker hit her yesterday. All the more reason she should've waited until after breakfast to call. Every breath is an effort. Even so, it's nothing compared to the grief tangling in her chest. "I don't know. He's... he's been hurt, honey."

"Hurt? What do you mean? Are you at the hospital?"

"No, no. But..." But she thinks they ought to go. She knows Danny would fight it. Is this something they should push? Or would it better to first study him before letting strange doctors try and make sense of him? How to they separate the damage done to him from the whatever abnormalities caused by the lab accident?

"Mom?"

Right, right. Something to talk over with Jack, later. "Sam and Tucker were right about who took him."

Another rush of static. Maddie pretends not to have heard the curse that slips out with it. "It—it really was the people from Circus Gothica?"

"Yes. Danny—that man found another way to control him." She fights the wholly inappropriate urge to laugh. What a thing to say! Young boy mind controlled by madman with magic needles; that's the plot of a Saturday morning cartoon. Things like this shouldn't happen in real life. "He only got free recently."

"He's alive? He's not—he's not a full ghost, is he?"

Danny's pulse hammering against her cheek when she'd hugged him. His skin icy to the touch, but his breath still warm. "Yes."

"Oh, thank goodness. I—I thought—I was starting to think I'd never see him alive again." She sniffs, laughing wetly. "I—I'll talk with my professors. They'll understand. I probably won't be able to leave until tomorrow, but—"

"Jazz, no, wait a minute—"

"What's wrong?"

"Danny is—" She can't say it. If she tells Jazz, it'll be something she'll have to face. But Jazz needs to know. "He's h-hurt."

"You said that. What happened? Why haven't you taken him to the—"

"He's blind."

"—what?"

It pours out of her like pus from a wound, all the guilt and shame and horror that threatens to choke her otherwise. She wasn't there for her son when he needed her, and look what happened. Danny didn't dare trust his own parents with the truth of the accident. He had every right to fear what they'd do if he did tell them, and look what happened. "The—what was his name? Showenhower? That man controlled him again, somehow, with these—he put these things in his eyes. The only way the ghost could free Danny was to—to—she burned them out. His eyes are gone now, Jazz. Oh god, sweetie, he can't see—"

"Mom, stop. Stop." There's a muffled bang as Maddie takes a shaky breath and tries to wrestle back some semblance of control, the scrape of loose changed scraped across a countertop. "Okay. I—okay. When did that happen? Did he say?"

"Ah—a few months ago. He's been—recovering. He wouldn't go to a hospital when—when it happened. The ghosts Showenhower had been controlling as well looked after him until he could come home." She thumbs her eyes dry, blinking rapidly.

"Where is he?"

"The roof, I think."

"The roof?!"

Maddie winces. "He just went out to get some air. I think we pushed him too far, asked too many questions he wasn't ready for. We're giving him some time to himself."

"I... wow. Okay. That's—good, actually. Really good." More thuds, shuffling. Jazz's breath comes too quickly. "I'm packing now. I don't care what my professors say. I'm coming home."

"Hold on, your classes—

"Forget my classes!" Static crackles. "I can afford to miss a week. It'll be fine."

"...Alright. We'll make up your room today."

"Thanks. Thank you. And Mom? Don't—whatever's happened, whatever that—that guy did, don't treat Danny like he's broken."

"I—well of course not."

"I mean it. Don't handle him like he's made out of glass, but don't—don't pretend nothing happened either. You've got to be there for him, but on his terms. Okay?"

Maddie smiles. "You're never going to stop critiquing my parenting skills, are you?"

"Only when you stop being such a great mom." Jazz laughs, sniffling. "Love you. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Love you too, sweetie. Drive safe."

"I will. Bye, Mom."

After Jazz hangs up Maddie remains where she is, breathing steadily until the dial tone blares. She thumbs the end call button. Gradually she grows aware of a warm, over-sweet smell coming from the kitchen. Oh. Right. Breakfast.

As she puts the phone back on the wall charger Jack nods toward the ceiling. "Shower's on."

She can just hear the faint rush of water in the walls. "Has he...?"

"Not yet." He goes back to laying out curled strips of bacon on a paper towel. "He'll come down though."

She wishes she were so certain of that. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, I'm nearly finished. You ought to take it easy anyway, after yesterday. What did Jazz say?"

She fetches her mug from the sink. She needs more coffee and a handful of ibuprofen. "She's coming home soon, hopefully for about a week if she can manage it."

"That long? Well, I'm sure her professors will understand." He shuffles over a little to give her more room by the coffee maker. "Did you... tell her? About...?"

He can't stomach saying it either. Maddie thinks of Danny's hands, mangled like someone had taken a hammer to each finger. Missing joints, knuckles lumpy with scar tissue, palms as rough as a dog's paws. She thinks of his forced smile, his too-dark eyes aiming for her and missing by inches because he can't—

"Yes," she chokes out. Oh, if only she could crawl back to bed and start this day over again. She stirs creamer into her coffee. The spoon clinking against the ceramic sounds deafening. "I told her."

"Mads—"

"I'm okay," she says. Too quickly. Jack doesn't push her.

She retreats to the dining table, sits and breathes deeply the smells of fresh coffee, a home-cooked meal, home. It's so normal. They haven't done this in months, not since Jazz was home for winter break. They should do this more. Make time to sit and enjoy good food and family. For Danny's sake.

Her eyes fall to the necklace, forgotten on the table when Danny took off—flew off, and doesn't the scientist in her marvel to see a human fly? The necklace, with its one cracked facet, still seems to gleam at disparate angles than what it ought to reflect from the overhead lights. It's certainly paranormal. Perhaps its origin can be traced to some part of the Ghost Zone directly, foraged out of some naturally-occurring portal, its manipulative properties discovered in some chance encounter with a spirit. Or, perhaps simply when touched. Jack had looked so—

Frightened?

Energized?

Jack had looked so strange when he'd worn it earlier. She's curious. She wants to understand, and the added benefit of it being a distraction from her guilt is nice too.

"Don't touch it."

She pulls her hand back, startled. Jack sets brimming plates down on the table, sliding the necklace out of the way with one plate rather than touch even the chain, even with gloves on. Since when has Jack ever exercised caution? When has she ever heard him sound so scared? He doesn't say more, and Maddie chooses to hold her tongue for now. She sips her coffee instead, watching him bring more plates and silverware over. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast, orange juice poured into three tall glasses. He even dug out the special pancake molds they'd bought years ago, back when pancakes shaped like ghosts made the kids laugh instead of roll their—

Mm.

"You went all out," she says.

He tosses a smile, slightly strained, over his shoulder as he pours another cup of coffee for himself. "Yeah. Felt good to."

She smiles back. He's never been comfortable in the kitchen, too prone to burning water and accidentally reviving the main course. But he'd made a real attempt this morning, and everything before her looks not only edible but delicious too.

She means to thank him. Really, she does. But what comes out instead is, "What did the necklace feel like?"

Jack hesitates by his chair, a flicker of fear there and gone in his eyes. "I... mm. It felt like—"

"Like you could do anything."

Maddie nearly jumps out of her skin, only just catches herself from drawing a wrist ray out a pocket and firing it at the voice coming from nowhere. Danny blinks into sight in the doorway with a small pop. His shaggy hair hangs damply in his face and he's traded the black hoodie out for a long-sleeved shirt, black too. Is everything he owns black? "Danny," she tries cheerfully, but he shakes his head.

Like you could do anything."

Maddie nearly jumps out of her skin, only just catches herself from drawing a wrist ray out a pocket and firing it at the voice coming from nowhere. Danny blinks into sight in the doorway with a small pop. His shaggy hair hangs damply in his face and he's traded the black hoodie out for a long-sleeved shirt, black too. Is everything he owns black? The sunglasses are on again too. Are his eyes open or closed behind them?

"Danny," she tries, but he shakes his head.

"Like you could hold out your head and pull the electricity out of the walls. Like all it would take to get everything you ever wanted was a snap of your fingers." He raises his left hand and does just that, a hard crack that makes Maddie jump again. Bright green ectoplasm coats his hand like a layer of paint, blooming out and up in a softly pulsing glow. He waves his hand and the light dissipates in a thin trail of smoke; a metallic tang sours the air. "At least, that's how it felt on the other side of the strings. So long as long as you didn't fight him."

Jack's face pinches miserably. "Danny-boy—"

You didn't have to make breakfast." He walks into the kitchen, edging around their chairs and finding his own without noticeable hesitation. If he didn't hold out his hands as he walked—if he hadn't told them—she doesn't think she would know anything was wrong. "You guys must have a million and one things to do down in the lab."

"Nonsense!" Jack exclaims with forced cheer. "We had to do something to celebrate you comin' home, didn't we? And besides, what's a better way to start your day than with a good old home-cooked, sit-down breakfast with your family? Just like old times, huh?"

Danny grins. "You used the ghost molds, didn't you?"

"I did! And they're chocolate chip too."

"No kidding? Well jeez, I kinda feel bad now, but I'm gonna have to pass on your infamous ghostcakes."

"Not hungry?" Maddie asks, accepting the butter tray from Jack. They exchanged a wordless, worried look.

"Oh, sure I am. But living on fair food for three years has kiiinda killed my sweet tooth." He grimaces. "Sorry. I'm sure they're great, but the smell alone is making me wanna hurl."

Another worried look exchanged, and they both reach for the stack of pancakes at the same time. "We'll put them away," she says quickly.

"I shoulda asked what you wanted, sorry about that, Dan-o—"

He waves dismissively. "No, hey, sit down. Don't worry about it. You guys enjoy, please." He sniffs, then slides his hand carefully across the table until he finds the plate of bacon. He makes a small and pleased sound, dumping half of it all onto his own plate.

"If you're sure," Jacks says uncertainly.

"I am. Go on, eat up. You put a lot of effort into all this."

As Jack awkwardly makes small talk, asking how Danny's settling in and if there's anything needing attention in his room, Maddie casts an eye around the table to see if there's anything Danny might want that's out of easy reach. It's only then she notices the necklace is gone. Did Jack...? No, he didn't want to touch it. When did Danny take it?

"And Jazz'll be home in a couple of days too!" Jack adds, elbowing her lightly.

She still startles badly.

"Ah—! Th-that's right! I just got off the phone with her."

"Oh yeah? Thought I heard you guys talking about her." Danny pauses long enough to swallow an alarming amount of scrambled eggs. "She's off at college, right? Ivy League all the way?"

"That's right," Jack says. "She'll be finishing her second year soon."

"Only her second?"

Maddie steps in when Jack flounders. "She took some time off after graduating."

Danny stills, his face smoothing over coldly. "Because I was gone."

"...Yes."

He sighs and goes back to eating.

Maddie bites her lip, giving Jack a helpless glance he mirrors. She doesn't know what else to say, doesn't know how to speak without tripping over her guilt. She's not the slightest bit hungry, but Jack did put the effort in while she handled calling Jazz. She over-peppers her eggs and still hardly tastes a thing.

Danny eats with astonishing speed even for a teenager, clearing his plate in record time. He doesn't reach for seconds though there's plenty left—not that he'd know that without either of them saying something—then fumbles for the glass of orange juice at his right. It slops, nearly spilling, but he catches it without any flicker of reaction crossing his face. "Oh," he says. "Would you guys happen to have Sam or Tucker's numbers?"