The battle lasted several hours. Ghosts had flown through almost every building and street in Amity Park, most of them cackling with glee as they fired ectoblasts at cars and windows. Some had hidden or cowered in tight spaces, and Maddie knew she and Jack would be finding their ilk for days afterwards, but at the time, they had focused their attention on the most aggressive specters, starting with a white-skinned ghost in a tailored suit and ending with Maddie's ecto-rifle and Jack's ecto-blaster aimed at their town's most tenacious invader.

Exhausted, it had only taken one shot from Maddie's rifle to knock the Ghost Boy out of the sky, and as he lay on the ground, ectoplasm dripping between the fingers of the hand he pressed against his chest, he stared up at them with wide, shocked eyes. On a human, the shot would have been fatal, but the ghost seemed merely pained as he tried to push himself further away from them. Maddie wasn't worried he'd get far.

His weight on the bedsheet "cape," he had knotted around his own throat kept him as tethered as any net.

"Wait," he said, sounding breathless for all that ghosts had no need to breathe, "wait, there's still danger. Walker's guards are—"

Maddie's rifle and Jack's blaster began to buzz as they powered up a shot, and the ghost's teeth clicked shut. He tried to inch backwards, but the bedsheet pulled taut and he collapsed onto his elbow.

"Wait," he tried again, but Maddie had already waited several years and she wasn't willing to wait for another chance like this.

She aimed her next shot at his forehead. He was too dangerous to hold captive for experiments, but one experiment they could perform right now was to see how much damage a ghost could take before they ceased to exist. She focused on the spot where white hair dangled between his eyebrows and squeezed the trigger just as her target was lost behind a red crossed out circle.

"Maddie!"

Jack shoved her barrel, and the released ecto-charged bullet grazed their son's cheek and ruffled his black hair before it exploded against a building across the street. The rifle fell from Maddie's hands. "Danny!"

Danny's wide eyes stared back at them, his chest heaving for breath. The new cut along his cheek dripped blood down his jaw, but he didn't seem to notice. He sprawled on the pavement where he had dropped in front of the Ghost Boy, one arm braced on the ground behind him, the other hooked over the ghost's waist. He had lost his hat at some point, leaving his unkempt hair to tangle around his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Maddie exclaimed. She took a step forward, but stopped as the Ghost Boy shifted behind her son.

"M-me?" Danny asked, his voice cracking. "You were going to kill him!"

"He's already dead, Danny!" Jack shouted. Maddie could see from the corner of her eye that he had lowered his blaster and was trembling.

Maddie didn't care to argue about the Ghost Boy's existence, not when her boy was pressed against the unstable creature. "He's dangerous," she said. She held out her empty hands and slowly stepped towards Danny. "Get away from him, Danny…"

As she got closer, his wide eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back from his teeth. "No, you get away from him! You're the dudes who shot him!"

"Danny—"

"He wasn't hurting anyone!"

The Ghost Boy sat up, the bedsheet no longer tied around his neck. He rested his forehead on Danny's shoulder and placed an ectoplasm-covered hand on the opposite shoulder, bright green liquid soaking into the darker green fibers of Danny's jacket. Maddie made a small protesting sound.

"I appreciate the rescue, Fenton," the ghost said quietly, not using the thickened tenor of his voice he usually preferred, "but we don't have time for this."

Danny's spine stiffened, and the arm he had hooked over the Ghost Boy's waist pulled the ghost's lower body further behind him. "Just shut up, dude," he muttered. "Let me be the hero for once."

The intimate way they spoke to each other made dread pool in Maddie's stomach, and she stumbled to a halt. This wasn't the spur-of-the-moment save of someone fooled into believing the Ghost Boy was a hero. They knew each other. How long? How deep did it go?

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Maddie's breath caught because Danny had already given his answer.

He had jumped in front of a bullet to protect the ghost.

As his familiar blue eyes glared defiantly into hers, Maddie had the disquieting realization that her baby boy was almost seventeen. He wasn't a child anymore. If they pushed him, he could leave, move in with Vlad or his friends, and they might never see him again. She could see it in the way Danny looked at her now, like she was one step away from doing something he saw as unforgivable. He had drawn a line between them and the Ghost Boy, and if they crossed it, they would lose him.

But why? What had they missed? What was so special about this ghost that Danny would choose him over his family?

Jack's hand grabbed her shoulder. "C'mon, Mads," he said softly, shakily, "there are other ghosts we have to hunt down."

Maddie glared at where the Ghost Boy's white hair draped over Danny's shoulder before shifting her gaze to her son's again. His expression hadn't changed. Jack and Maddie could force the two apart, but it would be a matter of winning the battle and losing the war. Jack knew that all too well. He gently turned her away before her exhaustion and emotions could get the better of her.

She stooped to pick up her rifle and looked back over her shoulder as she stood. "We'll be talking about this later, Danny."

Her son raised his chin and flashed her a mocking smirk. "See you at dinner, Mom."

The Ghost Boy lifted his head, his cheek pressing against Danny's jawline. Tired green eyes met hers, but Maddie's will to glare at him vanished as his and Danny's faces aligned like a mirror. She froze, her heart stuttering until Jack's hand guided her away from their son and the ghost who watched her go with a sad expression.

The self-proclaimed Fun Danny watched his parents run down the street and only realized how harsh his breathing had become when his other half said, "You're shaking."

Fenton started. "Uh…"

Phantom touched the wrist Fenton had hooked over the ghost's waist, and Fenton flinched, his heart stuttering a couple startled beats. "We're too exposed."

"…Right…" Phantom was safe from Jack and Maddie (for now) but not from Walker's guards and the inmates the Warden had unleashed on the town.

Fenton sat forward and Phantom moved away from his back, leaving behind a cold chill. A wet chill. Fenton swallowed. He turned around, setting his weight on his knees. His eyes instantly focused on the liquid oozing from Phantom's chest. He looked away. "Can you stand?"

"…I may need some assistance."

Fenton stood up and held out his hands. Phantom grabbed his forearms, the ectoplasm on his gloves chilling Fenton's skin. As soon as Fenton had his own grip on Phantom's, he pulled his ghost to his feet. He knew what it was like to fly as a ghost, but he had never lifted his own ghost before. He was far lighter than Fenton had expected.

Phantom released Fenton and pressed a hand over the wound. He swayed on his feet, and Fenton moved closer, worried he might fall. At his movement, Phantom met his eyes, seemingly startled, before he looked over Fenton's shoulder. He stiffened, and Fenton followed his gaze. His parents were too far away for him to see their expressions, but Maddie was looking in their direction. Behind her, Jack shot at a ghost guard. It hit dead center, but Jack didn't cheer or celebrate.

"Come on, bright-eyes," Fenton said, turning away, "we gotta get you home." He stooped down to pick up Phantom's bedsheet. When he straightened, Phantom was shaking his head.

"Not until all the ghosts are captured and the city and its inhabitants are safe again."

Fenton gaped at him. "You just got shot!"

"I will heal. I have to–"

"But the reason you got shot in the first place won't. Face it, dude, you're exhausted."

Phantom's lips thinned, his eyebrows knitting in a frown. He didn't deny it, but he didn't concede either.

Fenton took a deep breath. It stuttered in his throat. "Okay, how about this. We'll patch you up, you'll rest for an hour, and then you can go back to your annoyingly dramatic superhero duties or whatever after that."

Phantom's expression pinched further. "Fifteen minutes."

"Fif–it'll take me that long to patch you up!"

"…Thirty minutes."

"No, you suicidal maniac!"

In the distance, a car crashed and they heard an unmistakable ghostly chortle mixed with terrified screams. The two Dannys stiffened, though for different reasons.

Fenton wadded up the bedsheet and shoved it against Phantom's chest before the ghost could move. "Keep pressure on it," he said as Phantom reached up to hold the sheet.

"Those people–"

"Mom and dad will take care of it. If those ghosts find us, we're both dead."

Phantom's mouth snapped shut.

Fenton looked around frantically for somewhere they could hide. The alleys were too exposed, the houses weren't much better when dealing with ghosts, and the cars parked on the street were too likely to be targeted. There was a moving van tipped on its side, however, already damaged and unlikely to attract attention again.

"Okay." Fenton wrapped an arm around Phantom's shoulders, and before the ghost could object, bent down and hooked his other arm behind his knees. He lifted Phantom into his arms, and Phantom half-formed a swear word before biting his lip. Fenton laughed. It had a slightly hysterical edge to it. "Nice."

Phantom huffed. He looped one arm around Fenton's shoulder, the other holding the bedsheet to his chest. As soon as he was secure, Fenton raced for the van. Phantom was lighter than Fenton, but he was the same height and size, making the run awkward. Fenton tried to run as smoothly as possible, but halfway to the van, he glanced down and saw Phantom grimacing, his eyes pinched shut.

"Sorry," Fenton gasped. "Almost there."

Phantom nodded.

A few moments later, Fenton reached the van and stopped outside the doors, panting. They were locked and fully closed. "Can you get us inside?"

"Of course I can," Phantom said, offended.

Fenton rolled his eyes.

"…Move quickly, though."

"Yup."

Phantom's intangibility suffused the two of them, making Fenton cold and almost weightless. He stepped through the van walls and into the dark interior. Phantom's glow, dimmed by his incorporeal state, illuminated the fuzzy outlines of an upside down couch and several boxes, a few side tables and at least one stool. They were lucky the family renting the van hadn't finished packing the interior.

Phantom dropped his intangibility, and his glow instantly brightened. It wasn't much light, about as much as a nightlight might provide, but it was enough. Fenton walked over to the couch, knelt on one knee, and carefully set Phantom down where the ghost could lean against the arm. He moved back and met Phantom's eyes. Their usual spark was gone, but Fenton couldn't tell if that was due to his exhaustion or sadness.

"We should be safe here," Fenton said, trying hard not to turn it into a question. Phantom was the hero, the fighter. All Fenton could do was guess. "So I'll just start, uh…" He gestured at Phantom's chest.

Phantom raised a wary eyebrow. "You know how?"

"Yeah! I mean, we used to bandage ourselves all the time when we were one dude, right? And, well, you know, movies…shows…how hard could it be?" Phantom groaned, and Fenton hurriedly added, "Hey, you literally self-heal, there's no way I can fuck this up, it'll be fine."

"Do we even have bandages?"

"We have one bandage." Fenton pointed at the bedsheet Phantom clutched to his chest. "Soon to be many."

Phantom looked devastated. "My cape?"

"It's so not a cape, but it is the biggest bit of fabric we got, so…" Fenton held out his hand. "Hand it over."

Instead, Phantom hugged the sheet closer. "Is this truly necessary? I shall heal whether I'm bandaged or not."

"Don't even try it, bright-eyes, I know that's not true. I was once a ghost too, remember?"

Phantom grimaced. He slowly and reluctantly handed the sheet to Fenton.

"Wow," Fenton said, trying to keep a teasing tone despite the racing of his heart. It was easier to forget how badly Phantom was hurt when he couldn't see the ectoplasm leaking from the wound. "That was super hard, huh?" Phantom didn't answer. Fenton swallowed and asked, "Does it go, um…did it go straight through?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Fenton said, feeling queasy, "great." He spread the sheet out and tried pulling it apart. It didn't tear. He tried pulling harder, but the sheet remained stubbornly intact. "Fuck, it looked a lot easier in the movies…"

Phantom snorted. "Do you need me to–"

"No, I got this."

Fenton tried a third time, but when that too failed, he dropped the sheet. The movies had failed him, he needed a different tactic. He rummaged in his pocket until his found his house key at the very bottom. He pulled it out and set the teeth against the cloth. He dragged the key down the middle of the sheet, and though the key didn't cut it, he felt the teeth catching and fraying at the threads.

When Fenton next held up the sheet and pulled it apart, the threads broke apart with a loud ripping noise. He grinned at Phantom, but the ghost looked like he was seconds away from crying.

"Oh come on, dude." Fenton set one half of the sheet on the wall-turned-floor and made another center cut. The two pieces would form the padding. "We can get you a new cape. And I mean, like, an actual cape this time. I dunno if you know this, but you flying around with a bedsheet was really hurting your rep. Even Paulina was put off."

"It wouldn't be the same. This one had sentimental value."

"Uh, what kind of sentiments can you get from an old bedsheet?" Fenton glanced at Phantom to see his expression. The ghost had thinned his lips, his eyebrows drawn low over his eyes as he looked back at him. There might have been a greenish-tint to his cheeks. Fenton folded the torn sheet pieces quickly, haphazardly, and placed them beside Phantom's legs. He started cutting the strips he would need from the remaining half of the sheet.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Phantom finally said. "It may be better that I abandon capes altogether. If you hadn't arrived, it very well might have caused my…termination."

The key slipped from Fenton's fingers. "R-right," he said as he picked it back up. "Uh, yeah. That might be a good idea, but you loved wearing it."

"I was able to live out our dream as a superhero," Phantom said, and Fenton could hear the slight smile in his voice. "We always wore a cape when we played as a child, remember?" Fenton nodded. "But we're almost grown now." He touched the folded pieces by his legs. "With this last piece of our past gone and our parents willing to destroy me, perhaps that old dream is something I ought to let go."

"Oookay," Fenton said with a nervous laugh. "I am so not equipped to deal with that emotional stuff. I already got my hands full. Look, I don't care, I'm buying you a cape after this is done. You can wear it, wrap up in it when you get cold or whatever, use it as emergency bandages, or leave it in my room for all I care, but Mom and Dad aren't going to, like, destroy this too. It's…it's, um…" He searched for the words as he tore another strip. "It's innocent, okay? Just, y'know, harmless. You have a thing for capes because it makes you feel more like a superhero, that's fine. Kinda cute, kinda weird, but that's you in a nutshell, right?"

He glanced at Phantom again and saw his ghost half raise an eyebrow. "Cute, Fenton?"

"Oh, shut up, you know what I meant."

"…I do?'

Fenton groaned. "Look, I just mean I'm getting you another cape okay?"

"…Very well."

Even though he didn't argue, Phantom's tone lacked agreement. He would accept a replacement cape from Fenton because he couldn't stop him, but that didn't mean he would wear it. Fenton grumbled a few cuss words under his breath. He would have to get a cape that would hold sentimental value and maybe some cool features if he was going to fix this.

"Whatever," he finally said aloud. He folded one of the larger pieces into a small square, making it about an inch and a half thick, and held it against Phantom's hand until the ghost moved his hand away and Fenton could place it against the wound. "You'll need to hold it in place." Phantom was already moving his hand beneath Fenton's to do just that, but Fenton felt better for having said it. He started folding the other large piece and said in a forced, light tone, "You know, I have a few ideas for how you can be a better hero."

The eyebrow Phantom had raised had lowered with the others when Fenton started cussing, but it rose on its own again at his words. "Do you?"

The skeptical tone made Fenton's teeth grind. "Yes," he bit out. "I was a hero once upon a time, too, remember?"

"Yes," Phantom agreed lightly, "it was only a few minutes ago."

The indignation bled out of Fenton like air from a popped balloon, as sudden as a punch to the gut. He huffed a breath, lost his train of thought, and scrambled to catch it again. "Uh, y-yeah. Right. Anyway, I, um, you need to banter more."

Phantom frowned. "Why?"

"Well, it, uh, well it can distract your enemies, make you seem more confident than you actually are? Look, it's pretty obvious to everyone you're exhausted. You gotta hide that, and one way is by cracking jokes. We used to do it all the time." Fenton set the folded square aside and draped one of the long strips over his thighs for easy access. It was going to be tricky to set the improvised pad in place and tie it around Phantom's torso at the same time. "Move away from the couch, dude."

Phantom grimaced but leaned forward and scooted a few inches closer to Fenton. "I'm no longer very good at cracking jokes, I think you may have our funny bone."

Fenton hesitated. He glanced at Phantom. The ghost smiled uncertainly, and Fenton laughed. "Okay, that was a lame, but nice try. Try to make more puns, though. Everyone hates a really good pun."

Phantom hummed. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Anything else?"

Fenton didn't answer right away. He leaned over Phantom, looking behind his back for the exit wound. It was hard to miss. Bright glowing ghost blood flowed from the cavity and coated Phantom's suit green. Except where Fenton's arm had brushed against Phantom's back when he had carried him, the wound and its blood remained mostly undisturbed, though Fenton could see from the stain on the couch that Phantom had tried to put pressure on it.

Fenton swallowed and placed the folded square over the wound. With his other hand reaching around Phantom's other side, Fenton pulled a long strip around Phantom and caught the middle of the strip between his palm and the pad. Fenton slid his hand from the pad to the strip and leaned back, pulling on the strip so tension remained on the pad.

Once again facing Phantom, Fenton said, "Walker released his prisoners so you would exhaust yourself hunting them down, right?"

"Partly," Phantom replied. "He bribed the felons. Whoever caught me would be pardoned for all past crimes. Any who created chaos and fought me when I arrived to stop them would have their sentences reduced by half. Any who simply hid would be rounded up and given an extended sentence."

"Jerk," Fenton hissed. He tied a knot over the pad Phantom held to his chest, and the ghost dutifully removed his hand as he tightened the improvised rope. He knew from practice how tight to make it, though Phantom still grunted to let him know when he reached that point. "Bottom line, Walker was intending to exhaust you with his prisoners so he and his guards could catch you once you could no longer fight back, right?"

Phantom thinned his lips and didn't answer. He wouldn't meet Fenton's eyes.

"Right," Fenton answered for him. "Lift your arms."

Phantom lifted his arms and hooked them over the side of the couch, arching his back with a grimace. Fenton figured his arms were too tired for him to hold them on his own for long, so he didn't question it. He pulled another long strip from the pile and leaned against Phantom to catch the other half of the strip with his other hand behind Phantom's back.

"Do you think Walker's plans changed at all after Mom and Dad caught him?"

Phantom sighed. "I don't know. I doubt it. The prisoners and guards are still attacking because they have been given no orders to stop. By removing the leader, our parents have removed any sense of order."

"My parents," Fenton corrected automatically, only to wince once the words left his mouth. "Sorry."

Phantom just shook his head. "I don't know how to make the attacks stop except to capture each one individually."

"That's going to take a long time," Fenton pointed out. He finished the knot on the strip and carefully pulled it tight over the chest wound. "You'll still be exhausted at the end, and if Walker's guards don't catch you, someone else might."

Like their parents.

"I don't know what else I can do, Fenton," Phantom said, not sounding angry or frustrated, just…tired. "I can't sit by and do nothing. In fact, I should be doing something right now."

"Dude," Fenton picked up a third strip and pointed his index finger at Phantom, the long strip dangling beneath his hand, "I will sit on you."

"That's not likely to stop a ghost."

Fenton narrowed his eyes. "Just watch me, bright-eyes."

They glared at each other. Fenton had a few ideas to stop Phantom, but ultimately he knew Phantom was too tired to actively fight him if it came down to a struggle. Phantom knew it too, and after a few seconds, Phantom relaxed back into his pose and looked away. "I agreed to wait an hour. Heroes don't go back on their word."

Fenton snorted. "Glad to hear it." He resumed tying the long strips around Phantom's torso.

"I suppose you had an idea?" Phantom asked after a moment, his breath brushing through Fenton's hair as he leaned over him again.

"More like a suggestion," Fenton said. "If they're trying to exhaust you, you gotta sort of think about it like a marathon race. You've been fighting your hardest non-stop since it started, and it's worn you out. It's a long-haul, so you gotta pace yourself."

"I can't," Phantom objected, "they're attacking–"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Fenton interrupted. "Innocent bystanders and public property, blah blah blah. Not what I meant. There are other ways to pace yourself."

"Like what?"

Fenton tied the latest knot and threw his arms up in exasperation. "Like getting help, you idiot!"

Phantom frowned at him. "You wish to help me fight them?"

"No! God no! Ew. So not fun. No thanks. Not on your life. Or mine, actually."

"Fenton–"

"I mean like Valerie! Obviously Mom and Dad can't be trusted, but Valerie has always been willing to work with us when there's a bigger threat, remember? And Sam and the others have been trying to help you since the beginning, but you keep ditching them or sending them back to City Hall with the injured. What's up with you?"

Phantom clenched his jaw and looked away.

Fenton rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, fine. We used to be one dude, so let me guess. Since all these ghosts are after you, you thought by keeping your distance you could protect everyone else."

Phantom looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "Yes," he agreed. "And so they couldn't be used as leverage against me."

Fenton felt a chill run down his spine, and he pulled back.

Phantom looked away again. He lowered his chin to his collarbone and pulled his legs closer to his middle, appearing to try to close in on himself. "Don't look at me like that, Fenton," he said, and if his voice lacked force, there was a harshness to his tone that made up for it. "This is my reality now. It's necessary to keep my distance, for my sake as well as theirs."

"Is that why you haven't been stopping by the house lately? You're avoiding me too?"

Phantom didn't answer.

Fenton blew air out through his lips, tipped his head up, and closed his eyes. "Fan-fucking-tastic. My ghost half is having a hero-crisis, and it's not even an original one. Fucking lame." Phantom glared at him, eyes suddenly blazing, but Fenton pointed a finger in his face and said, "Nuh-uh, dude. Just look at what happened a few minutes ago. If you had successfully pushed me away, guess what would have happened? Face it, bright-eyes, when heroes fight alone, they die alone."

Phantom flinched.

"And trying to protect Sam and the others didn't even work. They kept leaving the safety of the ghost shield to try to help you no matter how many times you tried sending them back. You would have protected them better by staying by them and working together." Fenton tied the final strip around Phantom's chest, becoming embarrassed as Phantom's eyes stayed locked on his face. "So, like, coordinate your forces. If they're targeting you, set up traps and play the bait or something. Work smarter, not harder, right? That's what we always had to do in our video games."

"And you?"

"Me?" Fenton grabbed the last strip off the side of the van and eyed Phantom's chest. He hoped Phantom's powers were close to recovering. He didn't think the bandages would last long if Phantom's wound didn't seal itself soon. He could probably hold onto the last strip in case there was a breach. "What about me?"

Phantom, seeing that Fenton was finished, lowered his arms from the couch with a sigh. "You obviously left the safety of the ghost shield around City Hall. Why? And why didn't you stay with the others?"

"Ah." Fenton looked down as he rolled the last piece of Phantom's sheet around his fingers, alternatively clenching and relaxing his jaw. "They didn't tell me they were leaving. I didn't know where they had gone until they came back, like, an hour ago and complained about you not letting them help. They only told me that much because I ran into them. They pushed that one lady with the sprained ankle at me and ran off again. No one needs Fun Danny during a crisis, y'know?"

Phantom frowned. "So you chased after them?" He scooted backward so he could lean against the couch again.

To his evident surprise, Fenton crawled after him and stood on his knees to tower over the ghost. "Why bother? If I found you, I would eventually find them, but I left City Hall to find you." He gritted his teeth. "I hadn't expected Mom and Dad to be the ones to catch you, or for them shoot at you like that!" Phantom blinked up at him as Fenton's voice wavered. Fenton cleared his throat. "Uh, nevermind. It doesn't matter anymore, right?"

He slipped the strip off his fingers and raised his hands to Phantom's head. The ghost flinched but let Fenton run his fingers along his scalp, checking the sides and the back of Phantom's head for any bumps or depressions. He had fallen pretty hard on the pavement after Maddie shot him down, after all. Fenton tried not to notice how soft Phantom's hair felt, how nice it was to run his fingers through it and watch the fluffy white strands part before his fingers, but some thoughts couldn't be pushed aside, especially when they had existed for so long and he finally had an excuse to test them.

"You left the safe enclosure of the ghost shield because you were worried about me?"

Fenton looked down at Phantom, blushing a bit when he saw the other boy staring up at him. "What?" he scoffed. "Me? Worry about you? Nah, man, I'm the cool Danny, remember? I don't do that worry shtick."

Fenton pulled his hands out of Phantom's hair and started to sit back on his heels, only for Phantom to catch his chin, his index finger curling beneath it. Fenton froze in place. He opened his mouth to say something, but green light flashed in Phantom's other hand. Fenton flinched, squinting as Phantom raised the light to Fenton's face.

Whatever he saw made Phantom sigh softly. "Fenton…"

Fenton blinked at him. "What? What?"

Phantom released his chin, but, unsure, Fenton remained where he was, the muscles in his thighs aching from the strain. Phantom grabbed the discarded strip off the floor and brought it to Fenton's face. It wasn't until Phantom scraped the fabric across his cheek and Fenton felt his face sting that he flinched away and sat back on his heels.

"Ow!" he cried. He brought his own hand to his cheek, and his eyes widened when he felt the warm liquid on his fingers. "What the hell?"

Phantom arched an eyebrow. "You didn't realize you were bleeding?"

"…No?"

Phantom shook his head. "The bullet Maddie intended for me nicked your face when you got between us. You didn't feel it?"

Fenton hesitated. He had noticed a slight pain in his cheek once they reached the van and he started talking, but before that he hadn't felt anything. He hadn't even felt his earlier bruises or the way his tailbone ached when he had been staring down his mom. "No. Is it bad?"

"I don't know," Phantom said. "You moved away before I could examine it."

"Oh."

Phantom beckoned him forward. Fenton hesitated. He shuffled forward on his knees, and Phantom raised the light to his face again. Fenton squinted his eyes before deciding to simply close them when Phantom brought the light closer. He tried not to move when Phantom started to gently wipe at his cheek, but it stung. Even wiping the skin along Fenton's jaw made the cut twinge now that Fenton knew it was there, and he couldn't help flinching occasionally.

"I owe you a great deal," Phantom said softly.

Fenton blinked his eyes open only to pinch them shut again. There was too much light after being in near darkness for so long. Unlike Fenton, Phantom didn't have the benefit of a patient that glowed so he needed the extra light source. "Whatever. 'S not like you don't do it for the whole town every day."

"That's not the same thing."

Fenton shrugged.

"As someone with great powers, it's my duty to protect others. You don't have powers, it wasn't your responsibility."

"Responsibility, blahsibility," Fenton huffed. "I just did it because I didn't want you to get hurt. No duty–" he grinned at the word "–necessary."

Phantom brought the cloth closer to the wound, his already gentle wiping becoming softer. "It was brave," he insisted.

Fenton shrugged again, but he could feel himself starting to blush. Phantom's ministrations and words were taking their toll. He plucked at his jacket to give his hands something to do. "Not really," he said. "I was so scared I felt like I was going to throw up. I still might."

Instead of the cloth, Fenton felt Phantom's cold thumb wipe just below the bottom of the cut. Fenton shivered.

"You're braver than you think and more capable than I ever gave you credit for."

Fenton didn't know how to respond to that. He swallowed and shrugged again.

"I owe you my life."

Fenton blew out through his lips. Clearly Phantom wasn't going to simply drop it. "Fiiiine. You can make it up to me by coming to the dock-side park with me. They're supposed to have everything set up next week. If, y'know, the ghost invasion doesn't ruin everything. That would really suck."

Phantom's hand stilled on his cheek. "The amusement park?"

Hearing the uncertainty in the other's voice, Fenton grinned. "If I had to be a hero, you have to be a regular kid for a day and have some fun."

"…That…sounds fair."

Fenton laughed. "You don't have to sound so nervous, brighteyes! I'm not dragging you off to be tortured. It'll be fun!"

Phantom hummed, still sounding uncertain. He started cleaning Fenton's cheek again. "Very well. But…are we going alone or will Sam and Tucker come with us?"

"Eh…" Fenton plucked at his jacket. "They ditched me earlier. We can just go by ourselves."

"…Okay."

Did Phantom sound disappointed or relieved? Nervous?

Fenton wanted very much to duck his head, but Phantom was still wiping the blood from his cheek. He cleared his throat. "So, dude, is it bad?"

Phantom wiped his cheek one last time and touched the skin beneath the cut. After a moment, he said, "The medics might insist on stitches once you return to City Hall." He hesitated. "I should fly you there…"

"Oh." Fenton's shoulders sagged. He felt almost weak with relief. He hadn't been looking forward to the desperate run to City Hall, not when there were ghosts that might not know Danny Fenton was no longer Danny Phantom. He had only dared to leave the ghost shield in the first place because…well, he hadn't really thought about the danger. "Dude, yeah, that would be great, thanks."

"The ghosts are after me," Phantom reminded him, "it might be more dangerous."

Fenton smiled, amused. "I'd feel safer with you than without. Like, dude, I don't even have any sort of blaster."

The light in Phantom's hand winked out of existence, no longer searing through Fenton's closed eyelids. "Fenton," Phantom hissed.

Fenton laughed sheepishly and opened his eyes. Phantom's face was only a couple inches away from his own, the ghost's cold aura brushing against his skin. "Oops?"

Phantom groaned and leaned back against the couch. He covered his face with his hands, pressing the base of his palms into his eyes. "You could have been killed," he said, his tone anguished.

"Yeah, well, you almost were killed, so, like, so what?"

Phantom groaned again.

Fenton couldn't see any point in stressing about it now, especially when Phantom had already volunteered to fly him through a battlefield that would have been mortally dangerous and (frankly) exhausting on his own. Clearly Phantom didn't feel the same. He was muttering darkly to himself, and though Fenton couldn't make out the words exactly, they were either about Fenton's miraculous luck or the multiple of ways in which Phantom could endeavor to keep Fenton safe from his own stupidity. Ever the optimist, Fenton preferred the former.

"Yeah, yeah." Fenton grabbed Phantom's right wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. The ghost peeked one green eye open. "When you drop me off, we should totally get the medics to look you over too." Phantom frowned and opened his mouth, but Fenton already knew what he was going to say. "C'mon, dude, it'll only take a few minutes. They're loads better at this kind of stuff—" he gestured at Phantom's chest "—than either of us."

"To examine and treat me, they will have to leave the ghost shield."

"So? You saved, like, a ton of people today and almost got yourself killed doing it. The least they can do is give you a once over."

But Phantom lowered his hands to the floor and shook his head. "It's too risky. And what would I tell them? That the Fentons tried to kill one of the city's defenders and would have succeeded if their son hadn't intervened, injuring himself in the process? What would happen to…your parents then?"

Fenton chewed on his bottom lip and looked down at his hands as his fingers twitched. It probably wouldn't be good. Phantom took his silence for the concession it was and released a tired sigh. Fenton looked back up at him, noting Phantom's closed eyes, pinched expression, and the way he slouched against the arm of the couch.

A little while ago, Fenton's heart had raced faster than he could ever remember it, his breathing erratic and his muscles twitching with the need to do something, move, run. Even after his parents had walked away, Fenton trembled from reaction. If he looked down at his hands, he knew they would still be shaking because he still felt like he teetered over an abyss.

But Phantom remained perfectly still, barely even breathing. At first, Fenton figured Phantom was just used to life or death situations, but the longer he watched his other half, the longer Phantom didn't move or react, the more he realized it went deeper than that. He remembered doing something similar when they were one. When they bandaged themselves in the bathroom before scrubbing the green ectoplasmic ooze coating the sink with an anti-ghost disinfectant that burned their skin, when they collapsed on their bed after capturing a ghost on the eve of an English exam they were utterly unprepared for, when they endured their parents disappointed lecture the next day, they would become perfectly still just to keep from breaking down.

"Hey," Fenton said softly. Phantom cracked his eyes open to look at him, subdued green light spilling from his irises. "You okay, dude?"

Phantom closed his eyes again. "Of course I am." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "I'm Danny Phantom."

The sheer exhaustion in his voice made a mockery of his usual catch phrase.

"You know there's something wrong when I'm serious and you're cracking jokes," Fenton said, huffing. He shuffled his knees closer to Phantom. "It's just me, you know. You can admit you're having a bad day."

Phantom forced his eyes open and considered Fenton, his head slightly tilted. It occurred to Fenton then that he was so close to Phantom that if he leaned down he could rest his forehead against Phantom's, that he was so close the green light of Phantom's eyes was highlighting his face. He blushed but didn't dare move away for fear of drawing attention to it.

"I'm just tired," Phantom finally said.

"Used up too much energy?"

"Lost too much blood."

Fenton winced. "Oh. Right. But there's more to it, right? I mean, all these ghosts are hunting you, and they're, like, hurting people to get at you so you've kept your distance from everyone. Then Mom and Dad shoot you down…"

Phantom had raised his eyebrows as Fenton's voice trembled but it wasn't until Fenton trailed off, shaking, that he reached out and touched his shoulder.

Fenton swallowed. "Can you scoot over?"

Phantom hesitated. "Fenton?"

"Please?"

He didn't use the word often. Phantom nodded and scooted to the side, grimacing a little in pain. Fenton spun and flopped against the arm of the couch beside Phantom. His arm brushed against his ghost's cold shoulder, but he didn't move away. He needed the contact. With Phantom bandaged, there was no longer any need to push the emotions aside, and Fenton found himself trembling all over again.

"They were going to kill you," he whispered, horrified.

Phantom sighed and turned his head away. "They have been threatening to do so for years."

"Yeah, but…"

Fenton didn't know how to put into words just how wrong it had been to see his parents attack Phantom, try to destroy him, and for no real scientific purpose either. He didn't think he had to. Phantom didn't say anything, his silence and perfect stillness response enough.

"I won't let them," Fenton said. His voice wavered, and Phantom looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "I won't," he said again, putting more confidence in the words.

Phantom's eyes closed. "We don't often get a choice."

"I stopped them once, I can do it again."

Phantom didn't say anything. Jack and Maddie weren't the only ones out to hurt and/or kill Phantom, they were just the ones he hadn't expected. At that very moment, there were any number of ghosts outside looking for Phantom, abusing their powers to lure him out. And lure him out they would. Eventually. When the hour was up.

Fenton swallowed. He hesitated, unsure how it would be received, but a ghost wailed outside, he felt the muscles in Phantom's arm tense, and the hesitance lost its hold. Fenton wrapped his arm around Phantom's shoulders and pulled the ghost against his side.

Phantom drew in an odd breath. "Fenton?"

Fenton bowed his head, pressing his forehead against Phantom's hair. "Hush, brighteyes, this is new territory for me."

After a moment of two of his own hesitation, Phantom relaxed into his one-arm embrace. "You're feeling protective?"

Fenton closed his eyes, his cheeks warming. "Of course not, you're the one with super powers."

"That doesn't exactly negate your own power." Phantom went quiet, his breathing soft and slow. Finally, he whispered, "Thank you."

Fenton tightened his hold. He didn't know if Phantom was thanking him for the rescue, the bandaging, his worry, or for being the one person who saw he was as overwhelmed as everyone else beneath all his heroics, but thanks weren't needed for any of it. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long day, so if I or any version of myself starts crying or whatever, no one's gonna hear about it, got it?"

Phantom's voice wavered. "Yes."