"Who are you that would stand against me?"
Blood coated his numb feet and mixed in with the ice he tracked through the living room. But it didn't matter; what would the dead care for cold toes? It was in his bones, so much of it in his core. He loved it, he revelled in it. He wanted so much more and they would give it to him, one way or the other.
"Now that is a pity, what will you do now, Mother?"
Power. Fear. It rang throughout his bones and sang in tune with his thrumming Ghost Core. There was so much of it in the air, so much in the people around him, it was palpable. Power in his bones. Fear in their eyes. More! He cried, more! More! More!
"You are forsaken, no help will come"
They fled from him. Orange and blue, together forever, orange and blue. Orange and blue, twisting and twining, orange and blue. It filled him with joy, it filled him with hate. Orange and blue, orange and blue. He pressed closer, mindless of black hidden in the corner.
"Is that you, Father? You cannot save them from the ghosts, you will die!"
Salt. He could smell salt on the air as their tears fell like rain down the window. It crackled and burned against the ice, but he didn't care, he could always make more. More ice, more ectoplasm, more death. Cover the world in it, bring it to its knees.
"Tell me, Sister, how now shall you challenge me?"
Pleading cries sounded like white noise in his ears. A fumbled weapon cocked, a smirk maniacal. They had tried to kill him, so he would return the favour. Stupid mortals, didn't they know? You can't kill what's already dead!
"You have nothing left but your death!"
"—NO!" Dan shot upwards with sweat making the clothes on his back cling to his shaken frame. Tears ran down his face as the furry arms ensnared around him, hugged him close. It was just Wulf. They were tucked safely inside Amity, parked beneath Mother's carport. He was okay, he was safe. A quick glance at the ratty car clock showed the time, but he was far more concerned with his actions of the night before. Yes, he was glad that Wulf was here and okay, but he'd lost control. Again. And hurt people, again.
"Daniel?" Mother's icon appeared before him, glowing like an angel from one of those stained glass Church windows. "Are you well?"
"Mother, I—" Dan sniffled, tears flowing freely once more. "I—I did it again! I lost control! I didn't mean to—! I—I'm sorry!"
"You protected your friend, yes?"
"I—I hurt people! I—I killed them—!"
"You did what was necessary to survive" She countered calmly.
"Mother!" Dan whined pitifully, "I don't wanna be a villain!"
"You are not a villain"
"I just want it to end!"
"What to end?"
"All of it! Of—of him! Of that! I—I wanna look in the mirror and not see those red eyes and fiery hair…and so, so much death…I—I wanna see the stars! I wanna be me! Why can't I just be me? Why won't you just let me be? Is there something wrong with me? Did I do something wrong? Tell me, please! P-please!"
"There is nothing wrong with you. You are human and whole"
"No—no I'm not! I'm a ghost! A monster! I—I can't be here! I can't—!" Dan scrambled away from the floating icon, away from Wulf and Amity. From the Akiridions and home, and fled to the woods to steep and wallow in his guilt. So much guilt. Too much.
Down by the river Dan wallowed in his memories and guilt by moonlight. It felt kind of nice, the persistent aching pain of the blood blossoms that grew on the edge of the river and floated on by. He couldn't—wouldn't—get too close to the flowers, but that was okay, just being in close proximity to the flora was enough to burn him, to ground him. The guilt & shame ate at him. He should've known better, should've had better control, shouldn't have gone feral and killed all those people, shouldn't have hurt so much more.
There was fear there too, fear that the Guys In White were in town and knew that he was too. He'd killed their leader, Alpha (he could still hear the sickening crunch when his body met asphalt), but that wouldn't last for long. Replacing figureheads was easy enough. Should he leave again? Start anew somewhere else? Thoughts like these swirled in his head as he watched the painful red petals float on by.
He cried and wailed and wept his failings out into the night air, he begged and pleaded for someone—anyone—to come end his misery. How could one live for so long, alone and afraid? But no one came, as they always did. Time passed, as it always did, in the blink of an eye and soon enough Dan found himself in the company of someone he'd least likely expected. "Danny?" Jim cocked his head at the sight of the halfa curled up on the river bank with his tail just barely gracing the water's edge.
"Hey Jim" Dan softly replied, his voice still hoarse from so much wailing and weeping. He peered through the curtain of orbs and fireflies at the newly transformed boy. He bore a pair of ram horns that curled back against his head, flesh the colour of raging rivers and most noticeably, his armour had changed its usual hue from blue to red.
"Why are your eyes so red? Have you been crying?" Jim puzzled, titling his head like a puppy.
"It's—it's nothing" Dan turned his attention back to the river, intent on making sure his eyes were red only from the crying. "The blue's new"
"Yeah…" Jim sighed dejectedly as he pounced onto a nearby rock and sat back on his haunches.
"It suits you"
"Huh?"
"Hm"
"Why're you out here?" Jim wondered aloud, although his voice rose no higher than a soft tone. It reminded Dan of church services where no one spoke louder than a murmur for fear of disrupting the atmosphere.
"Just thinking" Dan hummed in reply.
"He's punishing himself" A nearby orb spoke up in their British lilt. Dan scowled in their direction. "He's being stupid"
"Huh? How're—?" Jim puzzled, glancing about for the source of the voice. When his ears twitched towards the orb in question, he appeared even more confused.
"With the flowers. They're bad, they hurt, they kill"
"What?" He gasped, head snapping over to Dan with trollish eyes that roved over the fresh scratches running up and down his arms. "Why—why would you do that?"
"…I—I lost control. Again" Dan refused to look the younger boy in the eye as he wrapped his arms around his legs and bowed his head in shame. "People got hurt and it's my fault"
"Stupid" An orb bumped into his bowed head. "It's not your fault for getting corrupted, it could happen to anyone"
"Corrupted?" Jim asked, still wary and wanting to move the elder boy away from the danger he had purposefully put himself in. If these flowers were anything like the ones in Merlin's cave, then they were far more deadly than dangerous.
"It's when ghosts become consumed by their emotions" Explained Dan. "It—it turns them violent, turns them into poltergeists, monsters"
"Then how'd you—how're you—?"
"—Some wake up, some don't. But it's not like it matters—it's not like anyone cares"
"I care"
"Do you?" Dan raised his tear-stained face and turned to the young troll across from him. "Or are you just saying that?"
There was a beat of silence as the two males sat together at the water's edge, each consumed by their own thoughts. Jim didn't know what to think. One moment he had been chasing Claire through the woods in his newly transformed state, the next he was lamenting over the loss of his human life and then he had stumbled upon the ghostly Daniel Masters wallowing in pain, guilt & shame by the river. For some unexplainable reason, Jim felt a sort of kinship to the halfa in that moment and he wondered if that was what he would turn into as his thoughts wandered to Toby's comics.
"…Danny?" Jim asked hesitantly.
"Hmm?" Dan hummed, eyes still on the red petals in the water.
"Those comic books—Tobes', I mean—are they all real?"
"They're the Sunday School version, yes" Dan nodded, glancing over at the junior. "Why'd you ask?"
"I just—Were you always like…like this?" He gestured to the albino. Jim could see similarities between himself and the ghost boy; particularly after he had transformed and it worried him.
"Like what?"
"…Lonely"
"Hm" Dan sighed aloud as he ran his hand down his face and up through his hair before he spoke. "At first—at first there was Fenton & Phantom; two seperate entities that I could switch between at will. But as time wore on…well, the line began to blur between them. Fenton would become Phantom and Phantom would become Fenton, until one day, one day there wasn't a line there anymore. Phantom was Fenton & Fenton was Phantom…Does that make sense?"
"Not really, no…"
"Look, it's like this" Dan tried again, turning fully to face the troll but still not quite giving him his full attention. "It's like these flowers here, they're called blood blossoms; a real pain in the ass for people like me"
"Yeah, but worth it" Jim picked up one of the flowers in question from his side of the river and sniffed it, sneezing a little at the pollen that got sucked up his nose.
"Are they?"
"Aren't they?"
"These flowers only bloom two months out of the year, and only in the presence of magic. Each bud only once; these flowers will be dead by morning and tomorrow night, new buds will bloom and then they'll die. In three weeks, this entire bush will be dead and in the Spring when magic is near, a whole new bush will sprout like weeds"
"…That's a lot of work for a flower that only blooms once"
"It's what mortals feel like to me" Dan looked Jim in the eye. "Exhaustive effort with very little to show for it and forever in your face"
"All of them?"
"All of them. Even you, even me—especially me. It's like a wheel, people fight, they love, they cry. 'Round & around & around they go, just on and on and on, 'til one day you die; cold and alone"
"…What—what made you like this?" Jim whispered softly with tears in his eyes, because surely there was no way someone was born like this! All this time, Jim hadn't really trusted the ghost boy, had thought him too snobbish and self-centred to want to involve himself in Arcadia's affairs. If he had the powers that Danny did, then he'd be home free, he could beat Morgana and still keep his human life. He wouldn't be this—this hybrid abomination. But now…? Now, he wasn't so sure.
"Family" Dan laughed wetly, "I mean, what else?"
"Your—your family did this to you?" Jim whined pitifully. He did not want this future; did not want his family and friends to be the reason he hated the world he'd been told to carry.
"Some of them" He smiled sadly, his expression turned melancholy and wistful. "See, people change, but they can't change their beliefs overnight, no matter how much you wish they could…Never thought I'd be on the business end of Dad's Fenton Bazooka again"
There was a beat of silence as the two hybrids just stared off into space, one boy in green whose ghostly fingers scratched lines up and down his arms in an attempt to wade through the aching pain that he felt from the crimson flowers across the river. (There wasn't much the ghost boy could do to hurt himself these days, but something like this? However pitiful, still ground him as it did when he was alive and just like before, he did his best to hide his injuries from his companions least he worry them). In turn, there sat a newly minted boy in blue who mourned over the loss of his humanity, but still revelled slightly in his newly acquired powers. Not that Jim would ever admit it, but he was starting to think that the general animosity he had held earlier in regards to the ghost boy was starting to give way to pity. And in all honesty, he wasn't sure if that was worse or not.
"…Hey Dan?" Jim finally broke the silence.
"Mm?" Dan hummed as he knocked away an orb that was hovering particularly close to his face.
"You didn't answer my question before"
"Your question?"
"The one about those comic books—about what happened to you…"
"Didn't I?"
"What—what really happened to you?"
"…I guess it's only fair right?" Dan heaved a put-upon sigh at Jim's confused expression. "I mean, Arcadia's dead haven't really been quiet 'bout you lot"
"Wha—? They talk about me?"
"Oh, you have no idea!"
"So…that question?"
"…I tell people that I don't remember the first time it, um, happened. But that's a lie. I tell people that it was an accident, that Dad—Dad just left it—the Portal—open, that we didn't realise it was still plugged in. But that's a lie too…"
"What—what d'you mean?" Jim was starting to regret asking the boy about his transformation.
"Let's just say…" Dan swallowed thickly, "That there's a reason I can't eat bacon anymore"
"…Oh"
"Look Jim" Dan continued. "I know you're struggling with this whole…thing. I can see it—hell, anybody with a brain can see it— and I know you're carrying this guilt around"
"Wha—?" Jim coughed weakly as he furiously scrubbed at his eyes as he tried to rid himself of unshed tears. Embarrassment coloured his cheeks red as the halfa's attention turned from the water to him, now that his melancholy anecdotes of the past seemed to be over. He never did fully explain what had happened to him, but from what Jim had learnt from Toby's comic books and the few things he had picked up from the graduate's comments, well, it wasn't good. Especially that thing about cooked bacon and his absolute adversity whenever it came to a human going near one of his portals. With the way his brain was putting two and two together, he almost didn't want to know what had really happened.
"But I also know that you don't get to decide who lives and who dies, I'm sorry Jim, but you don't. No one does, not even me" Dan shifted as close as he dared to the edge of the rock, shivering only slightly at his now damp tail trailed in the water. "Mortals are organic; it's a fact, we're meant to die"
"No—!"
"—It's natural, beautiful"
"How—how can death be beautiful? It's death, it's the end of everything"
"Not everything, just something" Dan replied meaningfully. "And you'll see it that when it all breaks down, it rises back up again. And breaks down & builds back up again. Because every living thing grows out of every dying thing. We leave more life behind us, so that another can take our place when we go. Because life refreshes & recycles on in endless loops and that is so much better than that soul getting corrupted. So much better to be the blood blossom who leaves behind more life for another to take their place. It's where the beauty lies, y'know? In the mortality of the thing"
"So—so if there's so much beauty in death, why're you still here?"
"Some choose to stay and some choose to; I honestly couldn't tell you which is better. But since I am neither here nor there; I guess you could say that I'm kinda stuck in between. In more than one sense" Dan chuckled humourlessly, "Look, my advice? Keep your friends close and don't shoulder the weight of the world on your own. You'll regret it"
"You sound like you're speaking from experience"
"…Yeah…I always did bite off more than I could chew…"
Dan sounded so pitiful in that moment that Jim (who wasn't really sure what drove him to do it) wasted no time in bounding across the river stones and wrapping the elder boy up in a tight hug; his (new) large frame easily encompassing his smaller one. The halfa let out a small squawk in surprise at the sudden touch, but quickly wrapped his own arms around the trollhunter as far as he could possibly reach and together the two just stood there. The hug felt nice; Dan's core thrummed in time with Jim's heart that beat in his ear like a drum. He tried his best not to let the fur tickling at his nose make him sneeze as he sunk into the taller boy's embrace, just soaking in the comfort of another. It seemed like an age before the two finally parted with awkward pats to the back & red-rimmed eyes until Jim handed back the Fenton Thermos that Dan had dropped days before in Merlin's cave and several more that he'd spent ravaging Amity searching for the blasted thing. "Oh" Dan blinked at the thermos that had been unceremoniously shoved into his hands. "I've been looking for that"
