.
.
.
Bare feet on ice. Breathe, he reminded himself. He was human, for now, and he wasn't supposed to be here.
Ice. Thin ice.
He was human, for now, but he didn't have the weight of it.
In slow motion, he saw the much, much heavier man—Boy, really, he hadn't graduated that long ago—step out on the ice, brow furrowed. A kind of rage lit him up, a paper lantern that burns itself, like the last time Danny had seen him, a frustration born of not being believed and—
The ice gave way.
It took him a moment to remember to fall.
.
Beeping. White. It took him a moment to remember and remember he had been human. At least then. At least now. Something like a fever danced over his skin. Pinpricks. A heated blanket. Whiteness he has come to associate with a threat.
He—
This is a hospital.
He breathes. He remembers. He wasn't supposed to be there, but even less is he supposed to be here.
There will be questions.
It isn't his fault, he reassures himself. No way he could have been anywhere else, done anything else, except by the actions of others. Not with safety. Not with grace. Not with morals.
He can smell the other person in the room. Their sweat. The fabric softener their suit had been laundered in.
"You should be dead," said the man. Accused the man.
"Well," croaked Danny, "clearly not."
"We didn't pull you out until after Agent W."
Couldn't they use the guy's real name? Agent W. Too many syllables. Too long to say in the heat of battle, or to keep him from running out and nearly drowning in a half-frozen lake.
"You're not dead until you're warm and dead," said Danny. "Heard it in a documentary. Mom and Dad say it's why you don't see too many ghosts who died that way. That and the hallucinations."
His parents don't think happy people leave ghosts. They're wrong. In that and many other things.
He does not look at the man. The line on the heart monitor goes up and down, dead steady. He did not think of the ghosts he left behind him. Of the battle and journey that left him on the ice, surrounded by white.
"I think we both know that isn't true," said the man with an edge of a growl. His shadow fell on the edge of the bed. "We've had our specialists look into you, you know. With your parents' blessing."
Blessing. What a strange way to say permission. Danny has received blessings. True blessings. One is not the same as the other. He remembers them, towering, like storm clouds, like mountains, like the forest, like the moon, the sun, the stars. He remembers the lights overhead, circling, and himself, looking up, beneath it all. He remembers the well, the fountain, the door, the path.
He remembers.
And he has none of that right now. No lightning but what he was born with. No ice but what the doctors chased away, if there were doctors, and not simply more men like the one at his bedside. No knife or poison but the words on his tongue. No shield but his disregard.
Human.
Yes.
"We even ran you through some of our pattern recognition programs. Do you know what we found?"
"Enlighten me," said Danny, dryly. His voice cracked again, painfully.
His effort was rewarded with a finger shoved harshly against his cheek. He winced at the sharpness of the nail and looked directly at the man for the first time since he woke up. He was reflected twice in the man's sunglasses, and a third time on the warped silver casing of his overlarge earpiece.
"Your freckles," said the man.
"What, did your program decide I had skin cancer or something? Forgive me if I decide I want a second opinion."
"Constellations," hissed the man. "You have constellations in your freckles. The same as the ghost boy."
Danny endeavored to raise his eyebrows as far as they could go. "I'm pretty sure that whatever Phantom has on his face aren't freckles. Freckles don't glow."
"Don't play games with me," said the man. "We aren't the only ones who've noticed. We aren't the only ones who've put two and two together."
"To me, it sounds like all you've done is give a computer pareidolia, but whatever floats your boat."
"What is your connection to Phantom?"
"You've been listening to Wes," said Danny. If his voice wasn't wrecked, his words would have been dripping with disdain thick enough to drown the man. Twice.
"Agent W is not the only one to make note of your behavior," said the man. "Paulina Sanchez, for example."
"Paulina," repeated Danny. "You mean the girl who has used every available opportunity to tear me down and mock me since I asked her out in freshman year? You think she wouldn't lie to your clown squad?"
"Excuse me?"
"That's what everyone calls you," said Danny. "Also, you shouldn't be interrogating a minor without their guardian present."
"How convenient, that you know that. Reading up on the legal system?"
"My sister had a Law and Order phase. Speaking of, I want a lawyer."
"You aren't under arrest," clearly disgusted.
"Great. So, can you tell the doctor I'm awake? Thanks."
"We aren't done here."
"I am," said Danny. He closed his eyes. "If you don't tell the doctor I'm awake, I might as well go back to sleep." He faked a yawn. Then yawned for real because yawns were like that.
Then the GIW representative shook him by the shoulders.
He shouldn't have done that. For a number of reasons. Not the least of which being that if Danny was connected to ghostly happenings, he could most likely kill the man with his bare hands.
This is not what occurred.
Monitors need leads, need sensors. Disconnected, they scream. Much like anything else.
In a hospital, such screaming attracts doctors.
How nice to know that they were in a hospital.
.
Snow underfoot. Booted foot, incidentally. His parents had brought his boots when they came to pick him up, along with other winter clothes. The snow crunched and squeaked, declining to melt when he stepped on it. Which. Rude.
The trip to the car was silent and sulky. Or possibly accusatory. Or morose. The nuances of the emotions escaped him.
"Danny," said his mother. "Why were you out on the lake last night?"
Danny had been dreading this. Anticipating it as one would the end of a fall. Except he hadn't hit the ground yet, only the branch of a tree that had the misfortune to get in the way.
He didn't have a good answer.
"There was something I had to do," said Danny. Which was both true and vague.
"In your pajamas?"
Danny winced. That hadn't been his fault.
"We don't know why you keep sneaking out," said his father. "But it has to stop. You can't do this anymore, Danny-boy. Especially not if it's going to end up with you in the hospital."
"That wasn't my fault," protested Danny. "It isn't like I lured Wes out. He went out all by himself!"
"Danny," said his mother. "You almost died. And now the GIW is telling us that your freckles are in the same pattern as Phantom's ecto-luminescence!" She visibly worried at her lower lip. "What happened?"
"And what did you go out for?" added his father.
Danny shrugged.
"Were you trying to help Phantom?"
"No," said Danny.
"We know how you and Jazz feel about him, but, Danny, this is dangerous. That ghost is dangerous."
Danny looked away.
"You're grounded," said his mother.
Danny whipped around to face her again. "What!"
"What else can we do?" asked his mother. "What else do you expect us to do? You won't tell us anything!"
"It was just—" spluttered Danny. He pressed his lips together, considering. "I did not go out to meet Phantom," he said. Again, it was true. "I went out because one of my classmates said they were being haunted, and I wanted to help." Also true.
"Why didn't you tell us?" asked his father. "It's our job to deal with ghosts."
"Yes," said his mother. "In fact, I thought you wanted nothing to do with ghosts."
"I don't know," said Danny. "Sometimes—" He winced, knowing what he was about to say would hurt. "You aren't very good at catching ghosts. And the part I want to have nothing to do with is the one where you cut ghosts up into pieces." He paused. "And I don't know what happened after I got there." He did not specify where there was. "I think the GIW had some kind of weapon? I didn't expect them there. Anyway, there was a bright light, and the next thing I know, I'm out on the water."
Alright. He was leaving a bunch out, but the rest was still true.
"You're still grounded."
.
He felt heavy. Whatever had kept him from making footprints on the ice had left him entirely. Or reversed itself. Either way, stairs, such as the ones he had to climb to reach his room, felt like an imposition. Nonetheless, he persevered.
Right up until he collapsed on his bed, overcome with the unfairness of it all.
"Hey," whispered the monster that had taken up residence underneath his bed. "Can I come out, now?"
"You're clear," mumbled Danny.
The monster, Phantom, phased up through the bed to lie on it next to Danny.
"Where did they even get the Ghost Catcher?" he asked, aggrieved.
"That's what I've been trying to figure out!" replied Danny. "It doesn't make any sense, and I can't very well ask Mom and Dad about it."
"Ugh. We're grounded, aren't we?"
"I am. You aren't." Danny pulled a face he hoped his other half would recognize from the outside. "Be careful, though. Your escape route is gone."
"I will. You need to find out how to get us back together."
"I will," said Danny. "By the way, just after it happened, I think I still had access to some ghost powers. I think I'm still a little, you know. Not quite right. It might be the other way around for you."
"I'll try and keep an eye on that," said Phantom. "It might be important."
"Yeah," agreed Danny. "You should go, for now. I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad are going to be checking on me all night, and if they see you…"
"Yeah. I get it."
"Sorry."
Phantom bumped his head lightly against Danny's. "Nothing to be sorry about. We both know what they're like. I'm going to patrol a bit, then I'll probably go over to Sam or Tucker's. In case you need me."
"Sounds good," said Danny. "I'll just… stay here. Try to make the Ghost Catcher from scratch."
"We have homework, too, while you're at it," said Phantom, halfway through the wall.
Danny groaned and rolled over. He would have to be careful about getting into the lab while he was grounded, and his parents were on high alert. Perhaps he could convince his sister to cause a distraction?