A/N: For Ectober 2018, Day 26: Sanity.

Star isn't sure what to think, doesn't know whether she's even making the right connections—but if she's not, what's the alternative?

Star staggered forward, trying to keep Phantom and Skulker in her sights—not an easy task when both of them could fly and she was stuck moving at a fast limp. Her only saving grace was the way Phantom was forced to weave and dodge and backtrack. If he'd had the freedom the fly straight, they'd be gone before she could blink. Tracking them across the football field wouldn't be a problem, but once they got off the school grounds….

Star's mind spun, trying to figure out what Skulker had meant. A halfa pelt?

First, ew. Second, gross. Third, halfa? Meaning Phantom was called halfa, too? Just like Danny?

Not likely a nickname, then, whatever Danny had told her. At least, not just a nickname. If people were sharing nicknames, it was going to be one more common than that. And if Phantom was the one to take Danny to the Far Frozen, this Frostbite wouldn't have called him something Phantom was already called.

Unless Danny was called it first?

But then why would other ghosts transfer its use to Phantom? That just didn't make sense.

Maybe it was a title. Some elite group of ghost hunters, maybe?

"That sounds ridiculous," Star muttered to herself as she pushed forward. But if that was ridiculous, what was the truth?

By the time they reached the park, she was too far away to make out what Phantom and Skulker were saying, too far away to glean any more clues.

She wasn't too far away to miss Phantom blast Skulker with an ice ray all too similar to the ones Icebreaker had used. She wasn't too far away to see Skulker drop, all the controls on his suit frozen. She was nearly there by the time Phantom had twisted off the robot's head and pulled out the little blob inside, holding it up to his eye level with two fingers like he didn't want to touch it. Star crouched in the bushes and tried to catch her breath, not sure her feeble attempt at hiding would do her any good but more than willing to try to be sneaky.

"Just for that," Phantom was saying, "I'm going to drop you on Valerie's doorstep."

Skulker shrilled something in response, but Star was too busy running Phantom's words over in her mind again to work out what he was saying. Valerie? Not the Valerie she knew, surely. Between Amity Park and Elmerton, there'd be more than one Valerie, and Phantom could easily be talking about a ghost. Icebreaker wasn't going to be the only ghost she'd never met before.

And as much as her Valerie hated ghosts, she couldn't do anything about them. She didn't have weapons. Even if she managed to get her hands on some, she didn't have time to do anything with them. Star would swear she was even busier than she'd been while part of the A-listers, and then she'd been out with them nearly every night. Phantom had to be talking about a different Valerie.

"—throw you in the dumpster behind the Nasty Burger with the rest of the trash and let her find you there," Phantom was saying. He'd adjusted his grip on Skulker's tiny form, grasping him firmly around the middle. "You'll still be in the range of her sensors by the time she's off work at the rate you're going to be moving."

…There might be another Valerie at the Nasty Burger. Right?

Phantom took to the air while Skulker was still squeaking out indignant responses. She'd never catch him now, but at least she knew where he was going.

There was no sign of Phantom when she got there, but she hadn't really expected there to be. By the time Star managed to drag herself through the doors of the Nasty Burger again, Paulina and the other A-listers had departed. Their spot, and every other one, had filled up in the meantime. Star groaned and walked up to the counter to order a small chocolate milkshake from Valerie, who raised an eyebrow—no doubt at both Star's bedraggled appearance and her self-indulgent order—but was kind enough not to comment.

Drink in hand, Star swallowed and headed over to the table Danny Fenton now sat at with his friends. If he'd been helping Phantom, he didn't look it. She felt sweaty and exhausted, and he looked exactly the same as he always did.

It was a little annoying, to be honest. How could he pull that off? How the heck was he gaining field experience helping Phantom if she could never see any signs that he'd actually been fighting?

"Hey," she said when she arrived at the edge of their table. Their conversation had cut off the moment they'd noticed her approach. Sam was glaring at her (no surprise there), Tucker had arranged his features into something he probably thought looked suave, and Danny was smiling sheepishly. "Mind if I join? Everywhere else is full."

Tucker waggled his eyebrows at her. "Well—"

"Yeah, sorry, you can't," Sam interrupted, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "We're in the middle of something. Why don't you go over to Paulina's place? You probably have some party planning to do."

Star gritted her teeth, but she couldn't invite them to the party without Paulina's permission, so it's not like she could offer anything to Sam.

Danny was the one who saved her, dropping his backpack to the floor and scooting over so she could slide in next to him. "It's okay. You can sit for a while."

"No, it's not," Sam ground out. "We were discussing our project, remember?"

Project. Sure. Star was in all the classes the three of them had together. There were no group projects in those at the moment. She plastered a smile on her face and pretended to buy Sam's excuse. She needed to talk to Danny, anyway. "Thanks," she said, sitting next to him and tactfully ignoring Sam's scowl. She took a careful sip of her drink and then asked Danny in a quiet voice, "They know, right?"

It wasn't quiet enough, but then again, she hadn't intended for it to be.

"You told her?" Sam burst out. Tucker looked equally shocked, the fry dropping from his fingers on its way to his mouth. "What were you thinking?"

Danny winced. "Um, maybe we should, uh, talk outside?"

Then again, maybe he hadn't told them everything. Or maybe he just didn't want them accidentally exposing whichever parts of what he had told her for the fabrications they surely were.

Danny took her hand and pulled her around back. Star wrinkled her nose at the smell of the dumpster—the greasy smell of fried food pumped out the back of the restaurant was not enough to overpower it—but all she could see around it right now were flies. If Phantom really had dropped Skulker here, he was long gone. That actually made Star feel a little better, because it meant the Valerie that Phantom had been referring to couldn't be the Valerie she knew, since she was tied up out front.

"Sorry," she murmured. She made a point of breathing through her mouth; it didn't seem quite as bad that way. "I didn't think you'd keep secrets from them."

"It's not that." Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "It's…. There are a lot of people in there, Star. Anyone could be listening."

She raised her eyebrows. "They'd be less likely to overhear you somewhere crowded like that."

"Maybe, but it's better not to risk it. You should probably just not ask me about this again."

Despite still holding her drink, she crossed her arms. "So you want me to drop this and pretend I never found out you work with Phantom? You'd rather I pretend to be some dumb, simpering blonde who can't remember anything?"

"Uh, no, but that's not the point."

"You're right," she agreed. "That's not the point. It's not even my point. I want to talk to Phantom."

Danny stared at her.

"You can arrange that, can't you?"

"Um…you don't just want to invite him to Paulina's party, do you?"

Star rolled her eyes. "Please, Paulina's already done that."

"Wait, really? When?"

"It's a standing invitation, Fenton. She doesn't need to extend it every time. The ghost boy knows that."

"Uh. Right. I'm sure he does."

"So can you do it?"

"Do what?" Star just looked at him, and Danny relented. "I can't make any promises, Star. Phantom only comes when he's needed."

"Well, I need to talk to him."

"That's not what I mean."

"Maybe not, but don't deny how much influence you have over this. You think I still don't get it? You're a halfa. So's he. It's not that hard to add up."

The blood abruptly drained from Danny's face, and he blindly reached out to grab the dumpster for support. "You…you really do know?" he whispered.

That…was an odd reaction if halfa was indeed a name given to anyone—or at least anyone of a certain rank—in a particular organization. Star mentally crossed that hypothesis off her list. But if that wasn't the connection, what was? Danny's reaction definitely confirmed that they were both halfas, whatever a halfa was, so she hadn't been hearing things, and he wouldn't be panicking so much if it really was just a nickname.

Sam and Tucker definitely knew, but they were obviously all protective of the secret, so it was unlikely anyone else did. Ghosts aside, apparently, but she was not about to try to capture a ghost to question it. Even if she got some weapons and asked for some training from someone (probably Danny's parents) on the excuse of being able to defend herself, it would take too long for her to gain the skill she needed, and the risk wasn't worth it.

The best way to get information right now would be to pretend she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," she said shortly.

"Everything?" he squeaked.

She just gave him a look that said she wasn't going to dignify that with an answer. Mostly because she couldn't. If he asked for details, he'd figure out that she was only clutching at straws.

"Star, you…. You can't tell anyone. You know that, right?"

"You'd be better off if I did."

That had him looking terrified, and she wondered just how big this was. He straightened up and took a step towards her. "No, I really, really wouldn't be. You know what my parents do, Star. Just think about it for a second."

What his parents did? They were ghost hunters. Inventors. Scientists. Crazy, if they hadn't been right about the whole ghost thing.

But if it wasn't just hunting ghosts, what else was he involved in? What was he involved in that his parents definitely didn't approve of? It probably wasn't just associating with ghosts. She was pretty sure she remembered hearing something about his sister writing about ghost envy, and while she wasn't entirely sure what that was, it probably involved Jazz talking to ghosts at some point. And Danny was definitely in the majority when it came to supporting Phantom, even if his parents came down on the other side.

This Far Frozen place must be in the Ghost Zone. Maybe that's what this was about? The fact that he'd travelled there? Probably repeatedly, seeing as he'd gotten training? Maybe halfa was a term for people—or ghosts—who frequented both realms? Phantom was certainly in the human world often enough to warrant the name if that were the case.

Except…. Except that didn't mesh with what she knew about Skulker as a ghost. The guy—blob, whatever—called himself the Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter. If a halfa pelt—that was still gross—was supposed to be the prize of his collection, it wouldn't be common. It'd be rare, a hard-won trophy.

So if Phantom had decided to work with Fenton because he was convenient, strategic, an average guy who could blend in and get away with things and not have people realizing what he was really up to— How was he unique enough to be called a halfa?

Half a what?

"I'm serious. If this gets out, it's bad."

She played for time, deliberately sucking up mouthful after mouthful of her shake. He was definitely waiting for her to say something now. Finally, she decided to go with, "I think you're overthinking things." It wasn't a bad guess. He was clearly panicking. She just had no idea why.

"I'm really not." He sighed. Looked anywhere but her—the overflowing dumpster, the graffiti on the fence, the fume-belching vents, the broken bits of asphalt beneath his feet. Mumbled, "Even ignoring everything else, my parents…. They might not see me as their son."

"What?" The question was out of her mouth before she could bite it back. What was that supposed to mean? Why wouldn't they see him as their son? Did he think they might disown him? Just because of what he was doing? They were obsessed with ghosts and dead set in their ways against them, but that was more than a little extreme. They weren't going to suddenly decide he didn't belong in their family because of what he did, right? Because of what he'd chosen to be? Because of whom he fought alongside? They wouldn't.

Right?

Star swallowed.

She only knew the Fentons by reputation. They were crazy. It was downright dangerous to be anywhere in the vicinity of the Fentons' RV when it was in motion; the sidewalks were definitely not safe. If they were pursuing a ghost, they would cut corners. They'd probably drive through a building if they thought they had to. They were obsessed, determined to catch and dissect ghosts to figure out what made them tick, what brought them back, how they could survive. They were brilliant, inventing all sorts of things that shouldn't work but did. They were over-protective—if one of their kids went missing, or if they thought one of their kids went missing, the entire town knew about it—and pretty much blamed anything bad on ghosts. But as much as they hated ghosts, they loved their family. That's the impression she'd always gotten.

But the truth was, she didn't know what would take priority if they had to choose between the life they'd built as ghost hunters and a son who wanted to defy all that.

Maybe they actually would disown him.

Maybe they wouldn't think him a true Fenton if he kept this up. Jazz at least wasn't actively helping ghosts, for all that she'd defend them. Had Danny known that that was the line and stepped across it anyway? Did he seriously think he'd lose his family, lose everything, if they found out what he was doing?

Would they really kick him out and leave him to fend for himself?

Star didn't realize she'd dropped her shake until Danny's hand snaked out and caught it. She blinked, surprise at his quick reflexes briefly chasing away her unease, but when Danny met her eyes, she could see how much this was wearing on him, how much he was truly worried, and it made her stomach twist.

"See, now you're thinking about it," Danny said, no doubt reading her sickened expression. "And, honestly, it would probably be worse than that. You've heard my dad. He wants to—" Danny's voice cracked, and he finished in a whisper, "—tear ghosts apart, molecule by molecule."

Wait.

What?

"They don't think ghosts feel pain," he murmured. She just stared at him. What he was saying was so far from what she'd been thinking that it was hard to follow. "They'd just assume everything—screaming, writhing, begging, breathing—was a trick. Because they think ghosts are master manipulators who have no true emotions, who are consumed by whatever their obsession is, and…."

Wait.

Breathing?

She might not know much about ghosts, but they were ghosts. They were dead. They wouldn't need to breathe. They might think they did, but they wouldn't.

"I…. I can't risk that."

Okay, she was definitely past the point that she could fake this now. "But you're not a ghost," she said bluntly. If he thought he was, he had bigger problems than trying to keep his association with Phantom a secret from his parents. Seriously. His sister was basically a walking psychology textbook; even she knew that. How the heck could Jazz have missed something like this? She was the smartest kid in school. She had to know what he was thinking, but if she did, why not try to help him? Or get him some real help?

Danny barked out something that might've been a laugh, if she was feeling generous, but at this point she wasn't. He was seriously starting to sound crazy. If he was pulling her leg, he was good at it. "You think they'd make a distinction between a halfa and a ghost?"

"Uh, yeah?" They obviously weren't the same thing. Not if he was one of them, even if Phantom was, too. She didn't really understand why he was asking. Just because some halfas could be ghosts, didn't mean all of them were, right? It was like rectangles and squares.

"God, for my sake I hope you're right." He finally offered her her milkshake back, and she took it warily. She had a feeling that signalled the end of the conversation, but she had even less clue about what was going on than before, and she hadn't thought that was possible. "But you get it now, right? Why you can't tell anyone? I can't risk them finding out."

Well, she sort of understood why Danny wanted to keep it a secret, but she wasn't convinced she should be helping him buy into whatever delusion he had. "I can definitely see where you're coming from," she said, hoping he'd be satisfied with that.

He wasn't. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

He was taking this way too far. Star busied herself with drinking the last of her shake, tilting it at just the right angle—

—and cursed as chocolate dribbled on her shirt from the lid which was apparently no longer on tight. "This is not my day," she muttered, tossing the rest of the drink into the dumpster so she could better examine the damage. It didn't look good. It was already soaking in, and chocolate took forever to get out of white, especially when you couldn't get at it right away.

"Here, let me," Danny said, reaching for her arm. "I might as well now. I kinda owe you anyway."

Her entire body went cold when he touched her, just for an instant.

When he pulled back, the splotches of chocolate milkshake that had marred her white shirt were gone, instead smeared on the pavement at her feet.

Star screamed.