A/N: Chapter title courtesy of ladynadra on tumblr.

As it turned out, Danny Fenton didn't need to pretend he wasn't Danny Phantom.

Because Phantom was a ghost, everyone assumed Wes was making baseless accusations. It didn't matter to them how similar Fenton and Phantom looked. It didn't matter that they'd never seen Fenton and Phantom in the same place—except for one time, apparently. Valerie had growled at him to drop that line and practically shoved pictures of the two of them together in his face. Wes still wasn't sure how Fenton had pulled that off, because Phantom and Fenton were both very clearly present, but he knew shapeshifting ghosts existed, and Phantom had friends.

But still. The people in this community were blind. Wes had zero trouble believing that Fenton's ghost hunting parents were at least partially responsible for Phantom, but no one else thought that was enough justification for the whole but Phantom is a ghost hurdle, not even after some ecto-contaminated food got loose in the cafeteria (twice) and proved that post-death corporeal animation could be a thing.

While Fenton didn't exactly make good on his threat to haunt Wes, he made no effort to hide the truth anymore. Wes always saw a flash of fangs when Danny's smirk inevitably grew into a grin as he noticed Wes watching him, even if other people were around. Maybe the people in this school—this entire town—were just oblivious, but that should be obvious. At the very least, it should be distinctly unsettling. Those weren't human teeth.

Sometimes, when Fenton's smile stretched just a touch too wide, Wes only saw the predator he could be. He might not be a cannibal—ew, not worth thinking about—but he was more hunter than defender, whatever he pretended.

Of course, Wes couldn't even convince Kyle of that.

"You honestly don't think you're just seeing what you want to see?" Kyle asked him as they were walking home from school one day. "This has been going on for years, dude. You should let it go."

"I'm not imagining things!" It was not the first time Wes had insisted as much, and chances were extremely good that it wouldn't be the last. Still, this wasn't the worst time to be rehashing an old argument. Kyle wasn't convinced Wes was serious about it, and Wes knew Kyle meant well even if he was completely wrong, and they would both be busy enough this evening that they'd have to drop it even if they would've preferred to keep fighting about it. There was no basketball practice today, and chances were good Wes would've had to skip it if there were. Today, they were expected to play host to the CEO of the company their dad worked, meaning they had to come home immediately to help get everything ready. Much as Wes wanted to move away from Amity Park, he didn't want to be the reason their dad got fired.

"Maybe this is a therapist thing. I mean, you're afraid of the dark now, and you never used to be."

"I'm not afraid of the dark," Wes snapped. "I'm afraid of him!"

"Of the kid who can barely run for thirty seconds straight, let alone climb a rope or, y'know, scale the two storeys to your bedroom window to break into the house?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "I told you, he doesn't need to climb anything. He can fly. Through the wall."

"And I've told you, that's not how this ghost thing works. Most of the effects are just optical illusions. If you spent half the time reading up on that as you did freaking out about this ghost stuff, you wouldn't be fooled as often, and you wouldn't be so scared."

Kyle might be trying to help him.

Kyle might also be trying to egg him on.

Wes really suspected the latter, and he wasn't in the mood for that vein of this argument again. He tried a different tack. "Fenton doesn't feel the cold."

"And you know how he feels how, exactly?"

"I've got eyes!"

"Coulda fooled me with some of the things you believe in."

Wes grumbled something distinctly unflattering under his breath. "Seriously, even when it's freezing out, he's always in a T-shirt. If he bothers to put on a coat, it's never done up."

"And you don't think he does that because he's trying to look cool? Climb a single rung higher on the social ladder so he's no longer Dash's favourite punching bag? I mean, it's not working, but you can't fault the kid for trying."

Kyle didn't get it, but he wasn't the only one. As far as Wes could tell, no one found it weird that Fenton didn't dress for the winter weather. And, yeah, sure, some people took the cold better than others, and some people were happiest at something that was distinctly cooler than the generally accepted room temperature, but this was different.

Fenton thrived in the cold, and when it was warmer than his favourite temperature, he made it cooler. After the few incidents when he'd been near Fenton in class, Wes had started tracking it, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. It was always cool around Fenton, even in the heat of summer. Assuming anyone else acknowledged it, they'd blame the air conditioning or a sudden gust of nonexistent wind, as if that made any sense at all.

That permanent cold spot might be why no one seemed to think it weird that Fenton wasn't ever warm to the touch, either. Not that Wes could bring that up without a lot of teasing for all the wrong reasons, but every time Wes had brushed by him, Fenton had been cold. Cold enough to give Wes goosebumps—though, to be fair, that might not have been from the cold. It wasn't the same sort of cold as sticking your bare hand into a snowbank or dangling your feet into the cool waters of a lake in the dead of summer; it reminded Wes entirely too much of the cool, dead flesh of the fetal pigs they'd dissected in biology class (to replace the freed frogs, a substitute with which Manson had been vocally unhappy).

And, okay, maybe Wes had initially made that association because he was convinced Danny was dead, but he couldn't unsee it. Or unfeel it. Even just the memory of it had him shuddering.

"Dude, if talking about the cold makes you feel cold, then that's your problem."

"I'm not cold."

Kyle just raised his eyebrows and stared pointedly at the bumps that had formed on Wes's arms despite the spring sun shining overhead.

"That's not—! I'm not cold." Wes scowled. Truth was, he was a little chilly—the sun wasn't as warm as it would be later on in the year—but that wasn't the point. Any chill he felt had nothing to do with the temperature. "Fenton just gives me the creeps."

"He's a nice kid. Give him a chance. Or, like, actually ask him how he does all his special effects since you won't believe me when I explain it to you. Who knows? Maybe you guys can be friends. Instead of, y'know, you considering him some kind of mortal enemy and him barely remembering your name."

"I don't consider him my mortal enemy!"

"You sure about that?"

Wes's eyes narrowed as he contemplated his options. On one hand, he knew protesting wouldn't do him any good. He'd tried. It never did any good. Kyle wouldn't listen to him. Well, more accurately, Kye wouldn't believe him despite listening to him. That was almost more annoying, since Wes couldn't pretend Kyle didn't even care. Kyle did care. He tried to help.

And he was hopelessly wrong about Fenton, and Wes couldn't make him see that.

On the other hand, offering up more evidence never seemed to help, either. Wes let out a slow breath and decided to try to be diplomatic. Again. What was the definition of insanity, trying the same thing and expecting a different result? Maybe he was insane, but not for the reason everyone in this town seemed to think. "Look. My personal feelings about Fenton aside, you have to admit that there's something weird about him, even if you don't think it's a ghost thing."

"Weird is one thing. Weirder than you is another."

Wes reminded himself that attempting to strangle his brother would not be a good thing to do, especially in Amity Park.

"I'm serious. You forget about last night already? When we were driving home from the Nasty Burger? Those eyes we saw flash in the headlights?"

"You mean the deer we saw by the park?"

"That wasn't a deer."

"I mean, that flash of green eyes? Kinda screams deer. I mean, you were screaming that it was Fenton, but it was totally a deer."

"That was not a deer. I saw it. Him. Fenton."

"Yeah, I was there. I heard you screaming. Just because Fenton happened to be near the deer—"

"There wasn't any deer!"

"Loads of animals get into that park. Loads of those fake ghost animals, too. If you really did see Fenton, he was probably setting something up for today. Which is what I told you last night, after you deafened me. Were your ears ringing too much from your screaming to hear me?"

Wes just looked at his brother, trusting his exasperation to come through in his expression.

"What? Didn't hear of any so-called ghost sighting at the park today? Want me to check the news?"

Wes didn't need to check the news. Fenton hadn't been stuck in detention with Lancer when Wes had walked past the English classroom at the end of the day, and he hadn't been with Manson and Foley, either. That meant there were ghosts out and about, Phantom included, and the park wasn't an uncommon place for sightings.

"Don't bother."

"Gonna admit it was just a deer?"

"I saw Fenton!"

"Setting up the ghost deer with the glowy eyes."

Wes frowned but kept walking, not looking at Kyle as he said, "You didn't see Fenton?"

"Nope."

"You ever notice how he sometimes just appears?" That was a risky assertion, even with Kyle. While any of the A-listers or even semi-popular kids in school would just write it off as 'not noticing the loser's approach', Wes knew it was so much more than that. Kyle, however? Kyle would not.

"You wanna pretend his mad ninja skills when it comes to sneaking up on people are a bad thing now?"

That was the thing with Kyle. Kyle would acknowledge something, just not fully. He'd only see the normal side of it, not the definitely-not-human side of it. "You know what I mean."

It wasn't always that Fenton was literally appearing out of nowhere, though Wes had seen him do that, too. It was how quickly he reappeared from, say, the locker he'd been locked inside—not just stuffed inside. It was how slowly he ran in gym class compared to how quickly he'd vanish the moment there was even a hint of a ghost around. (Whatever he pretended, he was not terrified of ghosts and hiding somewhere.) Besides, no one should be able to walk that quietly over fallen autumn leaves. It just wasn't natural, which was Wes's (entirely ignored) point.

"Then if you mean his ninja skills, yeah."

"That's not normal."

"Are you kidding me? He's got an older sister."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I can sneak up on you, too. It's a sibling thing. Just because you suck at stealth, doesn't mean the rest of us do."

"I do not—!"

"Dude, you walk heavy, and I have good ears. Just accept the fact that you're not gonna catch me off guard."

Wes muttered his protests. Kyle punched him in the arm, even though Wes wasn't sure if he'd been able to make out the precise words or had just reacted to their tone. It was an unfortunately normal exchange. Kyle wouldn't see Fenton's appearing or disappearing acts as evidence, and he wouldn't blink at Fenton's reflexes, either. Fenton had gotten better on that front, and Wes was pretty much convinced Fenton was only hit in dodgeball when he wanted to be at this point.

Regrettably, Wes had entirely too much confidence in Kyle's ability to write off Fenton's so-called party trick as just that, too, even though it should be solid evidence for Wes's case.

Fenton's only redeeming quality in the eyes of the popular kids was that he could hold his breath for a long time. It had been discovered during one of Dash's more questionable bouts of bullying last spring, in their junior year, but it had earned Fenton some grudging respect. He hammed it up instead of brushing it off, and no one questioned the fact that he could hold his breath for five minutes, despite how insane that was, especially for kids their age with zero training.

No one seemed to notice the fact that Fenton never took a giant gulp of air before doing that, either.

No one realized that he simply didn't need to breathe, at least not as often as a normal human if he did.

There was just…. It wasn't normal. None of it was normal. It drove Wes nuts, and no one else seemed to see any of it.

Wes mentioned it anyway. "What about the fact that he can hold his breath forever?" The rather frightening truth was that Wes wasn't even sure that had been a hyperbole. "He's not some pearl diver or something. He hasn't had training."

"You have no idea what he's done when he's home alone and bored."

"C'mon. I'm serious. I dunno if most people even last a minute, and he can go five? Maybe longer? That's not normal."

"You know you sound like a broken record, right?"

"But it isn't. You already know he's Phantom; why can't you accept that?"

"Wes. I know it's hard, man, but you've just gotta accept that Danny's as human as the rest of us."

Human.

Right.

Wes wasn't sure what he could say to argue that. If he told Kyle that Fenton invariably turned to look at him whenever Wes was watching him, Kyle would just snort and say that anyone would do that, as that's what people do when they feel someone watching them, especially when that someone is as obvious about it as Wes. If he pointed out that Fenton's eyes invariably found him without hesitation every time, Kyle would shrug and say that some people have good eyes. Besides which, since Wes had a habit of staring, Danny would just know to look for him.

Wes chewed his lip, trying to think of something Kyle would believe, but he could imagine Kyle's counter to every argument. Echoey voice? Imagination—or acoustics, depending on where it happened. Slight glow, either of his eyes or over his entire body? Trick of the light. Crazily good reflexes when Fenton wasn't trying to be normal? Luck, with a sprinkling of natural talent. Ability to get out of tight spots quickly? Skill, coming from practice born of necessity. Impeccable ghost knowledge? His parents. Always disappearing during a ghost fight? Self-preservation; for all they knew, he was a target because of his parents and the whole hunting ghosts gig. Occasional mumbling in a different language? Dude, even assuming it wasn't English or any other actual language, sometimes people just talk nonsense or make up their own thing. That doesn't make Danny not human. Not by normal people's standards.

"What's humanity to you, anyway?" Wes finally asked. "If everything I've seen doesn't make you think Fenton's not human, what would it take to convince you?"

Kyle snorted. "C'mon, bro, it's not like he's an alien in disguise. Pretty much everyone in this town remembers growing up with him. Ask any of them, and Danny was around long before Phantom ever started showing up. His parents just waited until he was old enough to play the role since his sister wouldn't do it. Or maybe they just got desperate. Being a good actor doesn't make him inhuman."

In Wes's mind, he had a mountain of evidence that Fenton wasn't human, but as far as Kyle (and anyone else) was concerned, absolutely none of it was substantiated.

"You can't keep basing stuff on the vibe you get off him."

Humans couldn't reach through solid objects.

"It skews your judgement."

Human bodies couldn't generate cold.

"You've gotta look at this scientifically."

The most light humans could throw off from their own body was a spark thanks to static electricity; it wasn't anything that could be weaponized beyond a quick prank.

"Danny's grades might not show it, but he's good at science, and his parents have taught him a lot."

His parents had created a monster.

"He's not a ghost. He's an actor. And, who knows? If they ever miscalculated and something went wrong with the stunts, and someone who wasn't in on it wandered into the scene, he might have actually saved someone and been the hero that everyone thinks."

He wasn't a hero. He was an abomination.

"And, like, if you actually look at anything you've ever told me— It can all be explained by that. This stuff is staged. Sure, things get damaged, but with the tourism that comes in for the whole ghost schtick? It's gotta pay for it or they wouldn't be allowed to keep at it."

"The entire world's a stage, huh?" A stage that suited Fenton perfectly. No one would look for the truth if they were convinced they already knew it—either that ghosts weren't real or that the ghosts couldn't hide as humans.

No one except for him, since he'd seen too much to have the wool pulled over his eyes like everyone else.

"Exactly!"

"Which is why you don't believe anything I show you even when I have pictures or video. Actual, solid evidence for what I'm telling you."

Kyle stopped and looked over at Wes with a raised eyebrow. "Really? That again? What part of optical illusion and sleight of hand still escapes you? I mean, do you believe in magic now? You think that every magician who puts on a show is secretly a sorcerer in disguise hiding their nefarious plan by trying to make enough money to eat and pay their rent?"

Wes pointedly kept his eyes forward and kept walking instead of answering.

Kyle jogged a few steps to catch up, easily sliding back into Wes's peripheral vision. "Look, you don't have to like Danny. You don't even have to have a good reason for not liking him as long as you don't do stupid stuff because of that. But this ghost thing is getting old. How long are you going to beat a dead horse?"

"Until I'm not the only person who acknowledges that he's dead," Wes muttered. Kyle huffed, meaning he'd heard that, but he let it drop. No sense in getting into a yelling match before they got home and had to spend the rest of the evening pretending to be a perfectly civil family with no crazy conspiracy theories on either end of the spectrum. Not that Wes wanted this to end in shouting, but it would almost be preferable to this. Almost.

He just wanted someone to believe him.

If he couldn't even convince Kyle, how could he hope to convince anyone else?

This really wasn't the day for it. Wes knew that. Tonight was important to his dad. He'd be lying if he said he was looking forward to tonight's dinner with his dad's boss, though. Schmoozing wasn't his thing. Neither were all the chores that invariably led up to that torture.

Of course, when suppertime rolled around and the doorbell rang, Wes was suddenly faced with a much worse torture than he'd expected.

He'd been halfway down the stairs when his dad had answered the door and invited Vlad Masters into their house, and it was halfway down the stairs he stayed.

Wes had never met Amity Park's mayor in person. He'd seen him on TV—everyone had—and he knew Vlad was also the CEO of the company his dad worked for, but he'd never…. He hadn't….

"What a nice home you have," Vlad commented as he looked around. His eyes only lingered a second too long on Wes, but it was enough.

Whatever reason Vlad Masters had given for coming here, Wes had a horrible feeling that it was really because of him. To put him in his place. To threaten him, even if he never whispered a word of that threat aloud. To let Wes know in no uncertain terms that Vlad knew exactly what he was up to and wouldn't stand for it without doling out some very serious consequences.

Wes had never put the pieces together before, but they clicked into place now.

He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't move.

He thought he might be sick, that the horror in his stomach might come spilling out all over the stairs, but it was stopped by the same lump in his throat that kept him from breathing.

Vlad Masters gave him exactly the same feeling as Danny Fenton did.

Wes had always wondered if there might be others, and now he knew the truth.

There were.

And they had power—power enough to destroy little guys like Wes who thought about speaking up.

If he breathed even a word of this to Kyle, it might still get back to Vlad. There was no telling how many spies he had, how many invisible eyes and ears. Any accusation Wes made would be paid for dearly, and his father….

Losing his job wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Wes was well aware of that. It might even be the best thing that could happen if Vlad decided to move against him, to retaliate for anything he'd ever said against Fenton or to have added insurance that Wes wouldn't say anything against him.

Wes wasn't sure if Fenton was in cahoots with Vlad or if the mayor was merely protecting himself, but the circumstances were crystal clear. Vlad was done with Wes's games. Wes had a mountain of insubstantial evidence, a firm conviction of what he knew to be true, and he couldn't keep pushing for any of it without consequence. Not anymore.

People might get suspicious if he dropped everything immediately, but if he didn't slack off over time….

"These are your boys?" Vlad was saying. "A pleasure to meet them. They seem like fine young lads."

Vlad was looking at him as he said this, and Wes could fill in the blanks. Shame if anything were to happen to them.

"Dude, c'mon," Kyle hissed to him from the landing as their dad insisted he come down to greet Vlad properly. As if Wes had any desire to shake the hand of the monster that could destroy their family on a whim.

"I…." His knees were still locked. "I…." What excuse could he give to get out of this? He was already getting the look that said he'd be grounded later for being so rude. "I think I'm going to be sick," he mumbled, which wasn't entirely a lie. Finally finding the strength to turn his back on the threat, he ran upstairs and locked himself in the bathroom. It was nothing more than an illusion of safety, but an illusion was all he had now.

It wasn't enough to calm his thundering heart.

His family came in turns, trying to find out what was wrong or to coax him out, concerned or exasperated or pleading, but he stayed huddled beneath the window on the far wall until he heard them exchanging their goodbyes. He stood in time to look out the window and watch Vlad climb into his limo and be driven away. Wes didn't let out the breath he was holding until the taillights of the car disappeared around the corner three blocks away.

Terror leached away and left exhaustion in its place, but Wes didn't try to explain the truth to anyone.

Not even Kyle.