Author's note: I subtly reference another fic I like called "Disconnected" by Workparty in this chapter. It's a great fic, so check it out! And then maybe you'll be able to find the reference. Otherwise, it'll only be humorous to me. And hopefully to Workparty.

(after being) Disparaged

The unveiled

Scratching and scraping. Danny pressed his forehead against the tree bark, clutched at the large branch he was sitting on with his bare hands.

A tree. He was in a tree for some stupid reason. Somewhere on the outskirts of town but not too far out because he couldn't fly for very long. He had flown as far as he could before his dizzying delirium forced him back down, and so he chose the first thing he saw for refuge.

A tree. Because Jazz had once told him that trees and plants and grass and nature had healing properties. Hey, Danny, you know what I just read? Did you know they used to tie mentally ill patients to trees to console them during a manic episode? And that it would actually calm them down? Well, it's true!

At the time, he had thought it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. What, so walking barefoot in the grass or hugging a tree would help him feel better when he was depressed or anxious? But the next time he felt utterly useless and like he was disappointing everyone in his life, he had been desperate enough to try it, and for some stupid reason, leaning against a tree did sort of seem to work.

Or maybe it was a placebo effect. Whatever. He'd take whatever help he could get, and so now he was in this stupid tree for the most stupid reason in the world.

With the side of his head still pressed to the tree bark, he gazed up at the stars he could see through the newly flowering branches and connected them into the constellations he so loved to study. Astronomy, one of his greatest passions and yet something he feared would only ever be an avocation for him because he was so terrible at math and by extension terrible at physics. Terrible at everything, really. The only grade he had managed to improve was his gym grade ever since he started battling ghosts, but what did that subject matter to his academic parents? And he didn't even really like to play sports, so it didn't much matter to him either.

Nothing he was doing mattered.

He was a failure.

He had thought maybe he could make something of himself with these ghost powers, but he was only making enemies. And worse, he had made an enemy of his mother, the one person he so wanted to impress and make proud.

And now what? How could he fix this? What could he say to her to explain his dramatic behavior this time?

Because as much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay in this tree forever. He had to return home at some point.

He plucked a blossom from a branch above him and fingered it, twirled it. Spring. He had always liked this season. Far from the Christmas holiday that he hated so much. Near the end of the school year.

And his birthday. He would be sixteen in just a couple weeks.

Or would he?

He couldn't see himself making it that far. He couldn't picture it. How could there ever be anything beyond this torment and frustration?

He stretched out his left arm. Here, now, it still hurt. His head, both arms, left leg. The future was ahead. Or maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter because this was where he was now. This was what he was feeling now. And that's all he wanted to focus on for the moment. He could decide what to say to his mother later. He could decide when to go home later.

He still had to master duplicating. That'd be a good distraction. From the pain, from the misery, from her.

His molecules changed over immediately, a mental command that now came as natural and automatic as walking or blinking. Translucent ectoplasmic energy surrounded him, moving through and around him.

He held up his left gloved hand, focused on just one fingertip, willed it to split and tear and divide. He started seeing double as his finger replicated followed by the rest of his fingers moving down to palm and wrist and forearm. Good, good. He just had to keep this concentration going because even just one lapse of focus could ruin it what pressure don't think about it just keep thinking about continuing the duplication closer and closer to his elbow but he was shaking and just one slip was all it would take he just had to stop thinking about that possibility but how could he not he had failed so much lately did he really think he could succeed at this stupid power he hadn't been able to master after a year and a half no stop he was losing it he was—

The two duplicated parts of his arm snapped back together with a painful clash. Danny cried out and gripped his now throbbing arm. He clutched it, bent over it, wailed and yelled and screamed. Strings of curses and expletives ran through his mind and his mouth because this was too hard and why was it so hard and why did he suck at the one thing he was supposed to be good at and how did it even get to this point how did he let this happen there was no way out no escape this was it this was all it was over all over for him.

He flexed his arm, stretched it, placed it on the tree branch he was still sitting on and leaned into it.

At the very least, couldn't it just not be painful? Couldn't he at least have that reprieve?

Teeth gritted, eyes shut, his tears fell in steady streams, his frustration and despair came out in anguished sobs. His EXIT signs were sparking and shutting off. Hey, now, boys don't cry, not supposed to cry anyway, but he was always so weak and so stupid to think that he could ever have worth or purpose in this world. Even his own mother wanted him dead. And there was no one to turn to, no one to talk to. Not his parents. Not his sister. Not even his friends. No one was on his side. But he wanted to believe in someone, anyone. He wanted someone to know what he was feeling even if that someone couldn't help him.

He wanted her to know.

His arm was still hurting. Hurting even more.

No, wait, this was a new pain.

Sudden and sharp and stinging—

NO!

He didn't even want to look. Didn't want to see what he knew it was. If he didn't see it, then it wouldn't be confirmed, and if it wasn't confirmed, then it wouldn't be true.

He gripped the dart with a white gloved hand and pulled it out of his arm. He tried to catch his clawing breath, tried to turn invisible. No change at all.

She was there. Somewhere below him. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't do this. He was high above her and could just fly away and she'd never catch him and he'd just wait for the effects of this concoction to wear off and—

Something heavy hit his ankle, wrapped around it with such force and weight that he was pulled down through the flowered branches all the way to the ground where he landed facedown. Blearily, he lifted his head and pulled himself up on his elbows.

She was there.

Dressed in her nightwear, goggles on top of her head, gun pointed right at him, eyes colder and harder than he had ever seen them before.

Danny gazed up at her, waited for her to do something, say something. But she remained silent and motionless, as if she were waiting for him to act first.

He moved slowly, lifted himself off the ground, watched her closely as he rose to a standing position. He kept his arms down as he stood a short distance away from her.

"How did you find me?" he asked quietly.

Maddie's lips curled into a small smirk. "Even God wants me to have you."

Danny had no reply.

But if that were true, did that mean God was punishing him?

She glared at him for long silent minutes, her gun whirring and ready. He glared back with equal silent intensity.

She at last lowered her gun and cocked a brow. Some sort of challenge. Danny took a hesitant step backward. She nodded slightly, encouragingly.

He took another couple steps back before turning fully and breaking into a run. He leapt into the air, but the weight around his ankle brought him back down immediately, causing him to stumble before regaining the balance to continue his sprint.

Behind him, he could hear her chasing him, pursuing him, hunting him.

He looked ahead. More trees, grass, buildings. He had no idea what was in front of him, only that he was going to it.

Because going back was not an option. And it would never be an option again.

He had to outrun her. Somehow. But she wasn't losing any distance. He didn't dare turn to check, but he could definitely hear her getting closer and closer. His mother may have been more than twice his age, but she had remarkable stamina and speed. And he was already so tired and miserable and sore that even his adrenaline was starting to give out.

Well, then, if he couldn't outrun her, then he had to hide.

Panting, Danny manically searched his surroundings. Trees. Lots of trees. And a lot of good hiding in a tree had done him. He hated the sight of them now. Trees could never possibly make him feel better again. No way, not ever, not—

A ray of ectoplasmic energy zipped past his shoulder. Danny gasped and almost tripped at the sudden force and light. She had missed on purpose. He was certain of that. She wanted only to recapture his attention, to remind him that she was still there.

Don't be afraid. Don't be.

I am.

Buildings. Darkened windows. Probably locked for the night. If he could've phased through their walls, any of them would've made a good place to hide.

A construction site. Through the chain-link fence surrounding it, he could see that the building in development still had open windows. He looked forward, looked around, looked again at the building as he ran past.

Made a decision.

He jumped and climbed and scaled the fence. A quick look over his shoulder revealed that his mother—

Why did she have to be his mother!

His mother was still there and was still chasing him and was moving toward the fence.

He dropped to the ground, fighting the pain from the impact as he recovered his balance and headed for the nearest window into the building, ignoring the warnings of trespassing and wearing hard hats as he dove through and dashed down the unfinished hallways of the building.

He just had to lose her. He just needed to find somewhere to hide. Or at least somewhere to catch his breath. Somewhere dark.

What good would the dark do? He was a ghost with a very bright glow.

She was in the building now. He could hear her. Damn, she was fast. Or he was slow. Probably both. His heart and mind were bolting and his body just couldn't quite keep up.

No stopping. Only running. No going back. Only forward. Through doors and up stairs and
along walls and down corridors foam and steel and plastic and plasters and
splinters and cellulose and echoes and thuds and scrapes in and out and
around and throughout and ahead just ahead only ahead
down this five and a half minute hallway
that stretched but then shrank and
tricked and ambushed
and closed in and
stopped and
ended and
trapped.

Danny stared at the wall before him, at the dead end he had just run into. He flinched at the sound of running behind him. No alternative. He raised a hand to break through the wall with an ectoplasmic beam, summoned ghostly energy to his molecules.

No response.

Danny gaped at his hand in horrified realization. His mother's solution halted ghostly molecular changes, and this apparently barred his ectoplasmic discharges as well.

He studied the walls surrounding him. No phasing through them. No blasting through them. No time to physically break through them.

He was a ghost with all the powers of a human.

Behind him. She was there. Danny looked forward and waited for her to draw closer. He breathed and prepared himself for his inevitable capture.

Her gun was humming and so close.

She had him. He was hers.

At this point, she deserved him. She had been working so hard for this moment. And he really was just a failure whose continual screw-ups had finally sealed his fate.

He deserved this.

She stood behind him in silence for some time. He kept his arms resolutely by his sides, closed his eyes and lowered his head. He knew what she was doing. Forcing him to wait, inflicting on him the agonizing recognition of her victory and his defeat.

He had no other choice but to wait. She was in complete control.

"Get on your knees, Phantom," she finally ordered with composed tone.

Danny opened his eyes and lifted his head. He knew this was coming, but he had not dared to think about what would happen afterwards. But now it was time to find out the ending.

But perhaps she wasn't in complete control after all.

She could shoot him or capture him. He wouldn't be able to stop her, not without his powers. But he could decide how it happened.

And however it happened, it wouldn't include his emasculation. Not this time. He wasn't the same kid from her memory. If he was going to be captured or killed, it wouldn't be with his back to her.

He tightened his fists, clenched his jaw, looked back over his shoulder, glowered at her as he quickly turned the rest of the way. He faced her squarely and held out his arms, palms toward her in bold resignation.

Take me.

Tie him to her altar. Enslave him. Rape him. Whatever she wanted to do to him. She had won. Might as well skip the foreplay.

Maddie snarled and kept her gun aimed at him. "Phantom, I'm warning you—"

"If you want to shoot me, then do it," yelled Danny. "But you'll have to do it facing me."

Maddie scoffed. "Don't think I won't, Phantom. But you're much more valuable to me alive."

"Then just take me already. If having me means so much to you."

He again thrust his hands out in surrender, ready for his arrest.

Maddie lowered her gun just a little as she frowned at him with bewildered puzzlement. "No fight at all?"

Danny hesitated, softened the intensity of his glare. "I just recognize that what I did was…"

His eyes unfocused and lowered. Hiding from her for so long. Lying to her over and over. Refusing to tell her just how much pain he was in. Using her inventions and weapons without her permission. Screwing around with her ghost portal when he knew he wasn't supposed to.

"Irresponsible," he whispered.

He didn't raise his eyes. He couldn't look at her again. Who even was he in this moment? Her son? Her ghost? Her property?

"So just take me already." His throat so tight and so closed that the words scraped raw his aching vocal cords. "Because I can't do this anymore."

He wasn't even sure if she could hear him, understand him. But she hadn't been hearing and understanding him for so long, so it probably wouldn't make any difference at all if his words were intelligible.

"I can't. I can't continue like this. Every time I see you. Every time I think about you. Every time you talk to me. Every time you touch me. Every time you try to help me. Every time you remind me that I'm broken and that something's wrong with me and that I need therapy and doctors and lectures. Every time you remind me that I'm not real and that my pain isn't real and that my feelings mean nothing and that I mean nothing and that it's simply my fate and my lot in life to end up in your possession because it's what God wants and it's what you deserve and it's what I deserve for existing in the first place."

She wasn't moving at all. Who was she in this moment? Still his mother? Or someone else, his murderer, his captor? Who did he want her to be?

He looked down at himself, at what he was wearing, at what he had become. "And maybe you're right. It's my fault I'm here now. I should've never existed. It doesn't matter how many times I save this town because if I just hadn't been here in the first place, then these ghosts wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be needed. And maybe I'm not needed anymore. There are plenty of ghost hunters that are so much better at this than I am." He paused. "You're so much better at this than I am."

All of our problems started with you, Phantom.

Maybe if I just get rid of you, these problems will disappear with you, Phantom.

You are not worth any more trouble, Phantom.

You lying bastard, Phantom.

I'm so mad at myself for letting you get away, Phantom.

I really, really want you, Phantom.

Trouble. A problem. An obstacle.

I got another e-mail from your teacher, Danny.

Why do I keep getting calls from the school about you being late to class, Danny?

What's going on with you, Danny?

This has to stop, Danny.

That's exactly something an addict would say, Danny.

You have a problem, Danny.

What's wrong with you, Danny?

And he wasn't any less of an obstacle as her son.

Perhaps he really was only good for research. Maybe he'd finally make her proud and happy strapped down and cut open so that she could at last get everything she was so sure he could give her.

If he couldn't please her as her son, then maybe he could as her ghost.

"I don't want to wait anymore." He sucked in more air. His body refused to breathe on its own. "That's what I've been doing this past week. Just waiting for you to find me. Just waiting for you to hurt me. Trying to keep hidden while you got closer and closer to me. Trying to keep you out with denial. Trying to drown you out with drugs. But this always had to happen. There was no way I could outrun you forever."

Still looking down, he swallowed and pulled in a deep breath, attempted to open his airway to strengthen his speech that had been breaking with tremulous frustration.

"So just take me already. Because this will be so much easier if I no longer have a choice."

Who was wrong? Who was right? It didn't matter. She was the one with the gun. She'd just have to realize her mistake later.

Or not.

Did he even want her to recognize him at this point? Or would that only make this pain even more unbearable for both of them?

Just let me be of use to you for once. I don't want to feel worthless anymore.

Movement on the upper periphery of his downcast vision. Danny tentatively raised his eyes to see that her gun was down and by her side, hanging limply from her hand as she slowly walked toward him. Danny put all his effort into holding his position as she moved closer with hypnotically paced steps.

Right in front of him. She stared straight into his eyes, transfixing him. Her expression was no longer cold and menacing. No, now she seemed to be…

Surely he was imagining this?

She looked frightened. Dismayed. White. As if she had seen something even more terrifying than a ghost.

Who was he in this moment? Who was she? Who did he want them to be?

The gun slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor.

And so did she.

Danny's gaze dropped to stare down at her in shock. She stared up at him on her knees with tears in her eyes. Hyperventilating, shaking, she cried out and threw her arms around him, pressed the side of her face up against his abdomen. She sobbed loudly, her wails muffled by the material of his jumpsuit.

He looked down at the top of her head, at the goggles that peered back at him, at her quaking form as her anguish vibrated through him. He held his arms at his sides and stood still, unable to do anything else in this baffling embrace.

Her endless weeping resonated up and down the unfinished hallway. He looked into the darkness ahead with glassy focus.

"Danny."

He blinked at the sound of his name. He had subconsciously convinced himself he'd never hear it again, certainly not from her.

"Danny."

He lowered his gaze to meet hers. Her face was completely drenched, her eyes bloody and swollen.

"Danny." Still on her knees, she pulled back and grasped at his waist. "Danny. Why didn't you tell me, Danny?"

He searched his heart, his soul for an answer. The right answer. The answer that would make everything better and would stop her crying and would end this.

An answer that didn't exist.

"I was afraid of you," he murmured, almost ashamed, almost hoping she wouldn't hear it.

Stabbed. Her eyes screwed shut. Her breath skipped and quivered. She again pressed her face against him and bawled, her arms tightly surrounding him and clutching at his back.

He stayed standing for a while, but he was growing heavier and heavier as his head filled with pressure and begged him to fall over. His mother. Her agony, her suffering. Pain so terrible that it would never subside on its own if it were ignored.

He wanted to make it subside. He wanted to rescue her.

He placed a hand on her upper back, the other on the back of her head. He lowered himself until he was also kneeling, pushed her in toward him so that her head rested on his shoulder. Her strangled sobs continued in his ear. It wasn't long until he was also crying, his tears quiet and steady.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out in a strained whisper. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

Maddie sniffed and leaned back so that she could look at him, her arms still around him. "Sorry? What are you sorry for, sweetheart?"

Danny looked down. "For this. For doing this to you."

Maddie hiccupped and shook her head. She placed a hand on his cheek and gently caressed him, brushed away his tears. "My sweet boy."

Danny smiled softly.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Maddie placed her other hand on his face and forced him to look at her. "You're always so quick to blame yourself. But not everything is your fault, you know."

She studied him intently, traced over his features with her fingers, his cheekbones and his ears and his jaw and his chin and his neck and then back up to his nose and eyebrows and forehead. Danny breathed and shook slightly as she ran her hands through his frosted hair.

She pulled him close to her so she could speak directly into his ear. Danny stared down the darkened hall over her shoulder.

"I'm the one who's sorry," she said quietly, stroking the back of his head. "I did terrible things to you. And I wanted to do worse to you. I planned on doing worse to you. And I know an apology can never be enough, but…" She heaved, choked back a sob.

Danny remained still in her arms and only listened.

"Can you ever forgive me?" she asked at a volume almost inaudible.

Danny's eyes filled with more tears. He had no answer for her.

Hearts beating alongside each other. Breathing the same air. Her skin feeling so hot against his glacial ghostly form.

Maddie finally stirred, moved, prodded him toward a wall. Danny blinked away his stupor and obeyed her wordless familial command, leaned against the wall with her on the floor, allowed her to put an arm around his shoulders.

They remained silent for some time. Danny could feel Maddie looking at him, but he pretended not to notice. He instead looked at her hand that rested near his shoulder.

Was this real?

Or did he take that acetaminophen after all? Or maybe he had found some narcotics? Was this some drug-induced dream? Was his mother really hugging him in his ghost form?

Or was this some sort of drug-induced dream she had put him into? Was he strapped to a table in her lab with propofol running through his veins?

If that was true, he hoped she wouldn't be cruel and wake him.

"Danny?"

Danny hesitantly turned his head to look at her. She was smiling so kindly at him.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

Danny blushed and looked down at himself. "Um…how long does this stuff last?"

Maddie looked confused for a moment, then smiled again with realization. "Oh, you mean the Fenton Ghost Solidifier."

"Is that what you've named it?"

"Mmm hmm. It should wear off in a few hours."

"A few hours?" moaned Danny.

"We could go home and get the cancelling agent." Maddie squeezed him. "But I kind of want to just stay here. I want to…reassign my thoughts of you in this form." She brushed the back of her fingers against his face. "My son. Only my son. Not Phantom."

Danny blushed again and smiled shyly.

"I love how your face turns green when you blush. I think that's the most adorable thing ever."

Danny rolled his eyes and looked away with amused embarrassment. Such a comment was so like his mother.

"I could just stare at you forever."

But this remark made him cringe. His eye twitching slightly, he cautiously turned his head back to find her dreamily gazing at him while fingering strands of his hair.

He leaned away from her, just enough to break her out of her trance. She shook her head and reconverged her dazed focus.

"Anyway, Mom, um…" Danny cleared his throat. "I—I just—I know you said I have nothing to be sorry for, but I am sorry. If I had just been honest from the beginning and hadn't lied to you—"

"I understand why you did. It's okay."

"No, it's not," insisted Danny. "I should've never let it go this far. I hate that you ended up getting hurt when it could've been avoided."

"You're stressing over how I was hurt?" Maddie pulled him back in close to her. "So like you. Always putting others before yourself. It's what makes you a great hero." She kissed his head. "But sweetheart, you're the one whose hurt matters here, okay? You're the one who's been suffering, not me."

"But you were hurt, right?" asked Danny, almost desperately. He wanted to have something to feel bad about, something to justify why he put off telling her for so long. "I've never seen you cry so hard."

Maddie sighed deeply and again laced her fingers in his hair. Danny pulled his head away, but she didn't seem to notice, just found his hair again and absently stroked it.

"Yes, I was hurt. I'm hurting now. But I'm hurting because I realize just how much I've been hurting you. You had nothing to do with how I feel now. It's not your fault. It's my fault. Only my fault."

Danny shivered as her fingers tickled the back of his neck.

"I haven't been seeing you as a person," she said softly. "I thought I was. But I wasn't. So yes, I'm hurting, but if it was the only way for me to finally see the truth, then it's worth it. I'd much rather endure this pain for you than allow you to continue suffering."

She wrapped her other arm around him, her knee knocking against his, her chin resting on his head.

"I'm hurting this much because that's how much I care about you, Danny. You're the only one I care this much to hurt about. And you're worth it."

In her arms, Danny closed his eyes and let his tears fall that he couldn't stop even if he tried.

Hours later. The solidifying solution had worn off at last. The starlit sky burned in the distance. Her arm was around him, holding him as if she were afraid to lose him. Along the sidewalk, through their neighborhood, up to their front door. They paused and stared at it together.

Midnight hair, rainy eyes. Danny turned to look at his mother. She stroked his face affectionately. He forced himself to lean into her touch.

And then they crossed over the threshold into their home.

Not as scientist and specimen, hunter and prey, but as mother and son. The only relationship that was ever real or true.

(Stay tuned for this same scene from Maddie's perspective.)

(Every chapter has a main song that influenced me most while writing. The song for this chapter was "Love Bites" by Def Leppard, which I know is totes inappropes for Danny/Maddie, but screw it, I think it fits how Danny is feeling here. There are already so many sexual undertones in this fic that I figured it wouldn't put me more in hell than I already am.)