I own nothing! Important A/N: I will not be updating on December 1, and 8, because those days will be too close to Latin 1 finals. If I manage to write a chapter, I will post it, but if I cannot, I hope I will at least have extra ideas for more chapters.
Was it my fault that I was incapable of sleeping after such a big time change? Absolutely, apparently. I didn't have much fun, and the second I arrived at home, I fell fast asleep, already determining that I wouldn't do my schoolwork until I was better rested, even if it would be a bit of a squeeze to get everything done.
Chapter 23: Normalcy and its Opposite
~Time skip of two days~
Life could have gone on as normal, but it failed to. I made it to class on time when I needed to, and I finished putting together my machine. I was happy to have that finished. It was Sunday night, time to see if it worked.
I quickly moved to the lab, glad that Dad's brief ghost hunting class with Sam, Tucker, and myself as students had ended without my invention being discovered. Two ghosts had actually come through, and I got rid of them without anyone noticing. How Dad didn't notice was something that would forever surprise me. I was careful to avoid suspicion, and I had completed my plan. It was only now, now that I was standing in front of my creation, that I realized what I was doing.
I looked at the jar-like outline of the machine, felt the smooth exterior. I had used molds that were created by my parents. I might not have been able to make it otherwise. Did I really want to do this? Couldn't I stay, do something about the ghosts that had just started coming through the portal? I wondered what would happen to me, before I forced myself to take a step forward. Though the door, which opened smoothly. Quick stride into the soundproofed shell. I shivered, not because I could feel cold, but because of the overwhelming reality of what I was doing. I hoped this worked. I stood still, beside the control buttons, and finally leaned forward, pressing it.
The pain was instantaneous and overwhelming. I screamed, with all my might. I lost consciousness in moments, the electricity coursing through my skin, sizzling my flesh.
I came to after several hours. I don't really know how many. I just know I was incapable of movement. I lay there, unable to stir. I stayed there until I managed to muster up the energy to move. I stumbled to the door, unhinged it, walked through. My hair was dark, I was Fenton. But why was I aware of this, instead of just "popping" back into my mind with no memory of the past month? I made it to the bathroom, and dry heaved. Struggling for air, I saw a flash of light. I thought it was an illusion, until I looked in the mirror.
My hair was white again. My eyes were green again. My skin was dark again. I stared at my clothes. They were the hazmat suit I had been wearing.
Nononononono! This was supposed to work! I was supposed to be normal again. Not…not some kind of white-haired freak. I slid down the wall, simply staring at my hands. I didn't do anything, I wasn't numb, I was terrified, but it was all caged inside. I wouldn't let it out. Not right now. I stayed still. Not even a mouse could be more frozen. I breathed in and out from time to time, I was conscious of that much. I could feel my heart beating. Beating? Breathing? I hadn't killed us. Was there even an us? How didn't I know that Danny might be gone forever? Mom said that a ghost may retain personality traits from its original, but is still very different. Did ghosts go mad if they were trapped inside a human body?
My head came down against my knees, and I stayed there, slumping against the wall. I didn't even hear footsteps as they rounded the corner. I was never going to move again, maybe. I was aware of another flash of light, but didn't pay it much attention. Suddenly, I became aware of Jazz, in front of me. I barely acknowledged her presence, but she stayed in front of me. She looked worried. She should be. I was a terrible person. I had stolen the body of her little brother, and there was nothing I could do about it, even though I tried to return it. How did one go about returning a body?
Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside me, overflowing from my lips, and I knew I should be worried, too. I was laughing hard, but crying, too. I did nothing but stare at her for several seconds, before I buried my face in my hands. I didn't really notice the movement, but suddenly, I was enveloped in Jazz's arms. I wondered why she did that. Stupid of me. I was her little brother, or so she thought. I couldn't stop giggling. She was rubbing my back in a calming movement, and I could hear her alive heart beating. Like I'd heard from Sam that dogs did, I became less hysterical, just from that sound. I stopped shaking all over as it gave way to simple tears.
I finally stopped crying, not yet ashamed of myself, but not particularly proud of my running nose, either. I took in breaths that eased the tightness in my throat, and allowed myself to relax. I was calm again. I pulled away from Jazz, finally feeling capable of thinking.
Just before I could stand, and after mumbling an embarrassed thank-you, Jazz grabbed my arm with a grip like a claw. "Danny, what's going on? I really want to help you, but you won't let me. Please tell me." The note in her voice was one of…desperation. I had never heard her use that tone before, as if, if I didn't tell her, I would be breaking her to pieces. I couldn't tell her. I wouldn't tell her. Too late.
She managed to pry bits of the story from me, slowly, painfully. That I had gone into the lab. That I had been inside the portal. It had turned on with me inside. It was causing difficulties, and, for an excuse, I told her I was afraid that she would be disappointed in me, and Mom and Dad would yell at me and punish me for disobeying them. The first part of the excuse was correct, but the second part was incorrect. Mom and Dad would barely notice. She reassured me that she wouldn't be too angry: it was normal for teens to experience curiosity (she used a teasing tone for that part), and, while she was disappointed, she hoped I had learned not to step into scientific equipment.
Jazz listened and questioned me, before finally asking me why I wasn't telling them. They might could help, and staying silent wasn't going to benefit me in any way. It sounded reasonable, and I had to believe they could help. I had to cling to the fact that I wasn't dead yet. If I didn't hang on to that, I was as good as dead. There would be nothing I could do, and I could feel something like depression rushing towards me. I could fight it, for now, with this tiny piece of hope.
I slept in my own room, my lies still burdening me, making it impossible to sleep in Jazz's room the way I used to, but with my mind made up. I absolutely must tell Mom and Dad in the morning. If I didn't, who knew what would happen?
Like it? Hate it? Please remember to review it! And yes, the actual cannon DP stuff is about to start. I just needed to get this chapter out to transition between the part I'm making up and the first episode. I may not be quote-for-quote accurate, but almost everything should be the same, though some parts may seem slightly AU. With a little cartoon watching, I realized something. During episode 8, Prisoners of Love, Jazz keeps a diary, from 1998-1999. I will probably need to work with my dating system, alter it a little to accommodate that, because his birthday is in 1990, and that would make him nine. So I will alter the first chapter a little.
-MiaulinK
