It takes another few weeks for Danny to come out of his fugue. Jazz had reacted more violently than he did, and tuckered herself out sooner. She'd just begun to learn how to cope with their new situation when Danny's mind finally caught up with itself and he registered the gravity of what had happened. At this point, he's taking it day to day, recontextualizing everything and talking with his sister and with Vlad and his friends.

Talking with Vlad is something that's happened a surprising amount, lately. The man is so much different, without his obsession pushing antagonism—for Danny's sure that's what it had been, before—and it doesn't excuse his actions, but Danny knows what an obsession feels like. He decides firmly that he's willing to move forward and put the past aside, if only until he's stable enough to unpack more baggage.

Vlad is still Vlad. He's the same man, but his quirks are more benign, now. His straight posture is less looming and more steadying. His mansion is no longer a gaping maw, but a comforting maze, and Danny finds himself more than once lost in the stacks of the man's library, content to remain among the heavy press of books before Vlad finds him, and they sit and talk, their voices muffled by the pages far before they could ever make it to the door.

"Dora's sweet. You should meet her, she's nothing like Aragon," Danny says softly, picking at the corner of a book. Vlad snorts, and Danny would expect the sound to cut through the quiet, but this deep in Vlad's library, everything is a little muffled. It's a weird sound to hear from him, too. Danny doesn't think he's ever heard the guy really laugh.

"I'd hope not. Aragon acts like a child," Vlad says haughtily, bringing the glass of wine he'd brought with him to his lips. Danny grins, even despite his own hesitance, and Vlad looks away, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Have you met Pandora?"

"Yes! She's like a mom, oh my god," Danny exclaims, spreading his hands. "I like her, but if I stay for too long she starts worrying if I'm eating enough." Danny smiles, but as he speaks, Vlad's own expression grows strained. He doesn't respond for a moment, letting the silence linger.

"Daniel," Vlad begins, and the light if awkward air vanishes in place of something more serious. "How have you been faring?" Danny's lips close on a smile he can't keep up.

After a tense moment, he says, "What do you expect, Vlad?" and nothing else. Vlad nods, pressing his lips together, like he'd anticipated that. Maybe he had.

"I wish a ghost would come attack so I could blow off some steam," Danny says pointedly. Vlad has warned as many ghosts as will listen to him off attacking for a while, Danny's sure, and whatever slips through the cracks, he must be having Valerie take care of.

"I don't think beating someone to a pulp is the best outlet for whatever you might be feeling, little badger," Vlad says carefully. That nickname has changed, too. The way he says it isn't quite so slimy anymore. It's a little more fond.

Danny sticks his tongue out before speaking again. "How long did it take you to learn how to control your powers?" he asks, changing the subject completely. Vlad blinks, but takes the turn in stride, though judging from his disgruntled expression, he wasn't done on the subject.

"I got them gradually, as the ecto-acne dug into my system. Once my alternate form became available to me, it was only a few months before I got the hang of most things, though I wouldn't say I'd mastered them yet," he says openly. "Why?"

"Dunno. Just asking." Danny scuffs his shoe against the carpet. He's sitting in a cozy armchair, and Vlad sits across from him on the floor, back against a bookcase and legs pulled up. His wine glass dangles from one hand almost carelessly. "It didn't take me super long to figure it out, but I kept getting new powers."

"Like what?"

"The wail came later, for one. And the ice." Danny stops. "What's your core?"

Vlad doesn't answer immediately. "Are you saying the ice comes from your core?"

"I mean… yeah. That's what Frostbite said, anyway. What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Vlad waves a hand dismissively. "I simply wouldn't have expected that, based on… well. Most ghosts' cores have something to do with how they died. Like Ms. McLain. House fire, fire core."

"So, what, I should have electric powers or something? That'd be cool. I like ice, though." Vlad shrugs. "What's yours?"

"Fire. You could say the proto-portal was a tad more molten than it is today," Vlad says lightly, though his lips twitch up. Danny grins in response. This is the kind of thing he missed out on, only having Sam and Tuck and Jazz to talk to. They'd always been a touch too concerned to laugh at his more morbid jokes.

"I like this," Danny blurts out. When Vlad stares at him, obviously waiting for him to continue, he says, "Being able to talk about stuff like this, I mean. It was, I don't know, lonely."

Vlad smiles a little sadly. "Yes, I know what you mean." His expression screws into something more regretful. "I'm sorry we couldn't have spoken like this before."

Couldn't is a strong word. Obsessions can do a lot to restrict you, but they can still be broken free of. Vlad didn't bother to try until Maddie had committed a sin beyond his capacity to condone.

Still. A man like that—maybe he had never realized he could try until now.

"Me too," Danny says, playing with the cover of the book in his lap. "I've had so many questions about how we work and how I'm going to change. I always—" He pauses, glancing up at Vlad, who listens, attentive. Despite the sudden embarrassment that colors his cheeks, Danny presses on. "I always wished I could ask you, without feeling like you might hold it over me."

Vlad's eyebrows knit together. He doesn't deny the accusation. "You can ask anything you like."

Danny opens his mouth, but all the questions that have been careening around in his head since the beginning like bumper cars seem to dart away. He can't remember any of them, so he closes his lips. "Not right now," Danny says softly, and Vlad just nods.

They remain there, not speaking, for a while. The high windows above them see the light grow dimmer and dimmer, until a door distantly opens and some servant turns the lamps on, setting the library in a moody glow. Dramatic lighting.

"Vlad?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad I can talk to you now." Danny's ears grow hot, and he hurries to justify it. "I mean—things aren't great right now, and I'm upset, but I'm happy that you're not, uh. Trying to hurt me anymore."

Vlad meets Danny's eyes. His gaze swirls with things unnamable, but sitting right at the forefront is regret, and Danny watches in almost fascination as Vlad downs the rest of his wine in one gulp and sets the glass down.

After a thick silence, Vlad says, "Me too. I—me too."