Cirque Berserk
.
.
.
11
Splitting Halves
.
.
.
She sprinted up to her apartment. The tears she struggled to keep in her eyes had fallen out during the drive. They kept streaming down, unstoppable, no matter how much she screamed at herself to stop because it was stupid and she didn't need to waste her tears on scum like him.
But these reasons only made her cry harder.
The person she had reunited with in that fast food facility was not Danny. It had felt like Danny for a few moments, it felt like they had transcended time and returned to the age where everything was okay and uncomplicated, but it changed into something darker, more horrible, as time ticked on. She felt his gaze, not like Danny's gaze, pierce the walls she had cemented meticulously around her and take a gander at what she hid. His words had a cutting mechanism to them; a jagged, sharp, edge which hacked through her defenses as if she had been bare to begin with.
Throwing the constitution and her rights and amendments had nothing to do with this. It had been the cold remark of giving up.
Do I give up on everything?
No. She tried her hardest on everything; she would be damned before she gave up.
Is that how he really saw me? A person who never finished what she started?
That sounded a little more right; a little more toward the correct path. Had this been how Danny viewed her for better part of her life? She might've come off as a little lazy and perhaps cunning, given how she found ways out of work and loopholes just as easily as she laced up her boots, but had this front she put up been taken too far? Had she inadvertently made him...dislike her, for her tough demeanor?
She slid a pillow over her face and shut her eyes tightly against another wave of tears. She sucked them up, braving the twisting hurt in her chest.
She always knew it would hurt if she ever saw Danny again; mostly because of the doubts, the loss, the grievance in knowing he left without even telling her or anyone else. She had seen how broken up the Fenton family had become after his leave, how his sister had left for college and didn't return for months, not even if she had vacation or break. Mr and Mrs Fenton spent rare time outside of their laboratory; rarely even ate together at the same table and smiling seemed like a hassle to both of them whenever Tucker or her came over to see their progress.
But she never knew it would hurt this much; it would implant more doubts, more losses, more grievances to her already aggrieved heart.
If she thought it hurt before, this was overkill.
Because it hurt.
It hurt a lot.
The sadness transformed into rage, as her eyes caught the calender pinned up on her wall. There was a circle around the thirty first, marked by Valerie, who waltzes into her room like she owns the place half the time, and Sam sneers at the date, knowing fairly well what happened on that date.
It was the last day Circus Gothica would be in town.
The last day Danny would be in town; the last day she'd have to see his snotty face for a long, long time...
It would be the end of everything or the start of something new if they both let it; if she let it.
She rolled on her side and glared at the wall, cuddling up with her spider pillow as the day slowly passed.
Thank god she wasn't going to see that dumb circus show anyway...
Danny opened his door and touched his forehead, sharp pains making him slower than usual. He closed it behind him, muffling the laughter and chatter from the ghosts that lingered in the hall. He had been drawn into a conversation previously but had managed to get out of it when his head started hurting again.
He didn't need to know that he was acting up again.
There came a particularly hard stab in his skull.
Danny clawed his hands against the wall inside his room. He stood shakily, digging his fingers into the flimsy black material of the tent which housed him and dozens of other ghosts. He nearly tore right through it, nearly gave away his predicament, and he kneeled down in order to keep the tent wall in place; least he bring the entire wall down and attract the attention of the other ghosts.
He didn't want them to see him like this.
Only one person had seen him like this and that had been Lydia and she had been more scared than anything when she witnessed the character change. Most of the other ghosts thought it was his act, his stage-character, when in reality that personality was just as much as his as it was his.
Stop it, he strained against the suffocating force that made it hard to breath; to blink; to move. I'm going to see her soon. I have to see her. I have to tell her—
No you don't, The voice bit back, a growl in the words. You don't have to go. I won't let you go so you might as well just calm the fuck down, Danny.
I DO, Danny replied, just as fierce, and felt a shift in positions. He felt it, the push, and he continued to push as he slowly regained his sense. I have to go see her. I WILL go see her. His teeth ground down on each other, his will slowly growing stronger as he fought to regain his body. When he was in this state, a stasis of sorts, it was hard to know what was going on around him. It was dangerous, as both entities were stuck in a paralysis; a stillness where neither was in charge of the body and both were battling it out until one thawed and the other took the opportunity.
Fuck her! She doesn't matter! The other half felt the swift change in positions as well. Danny had played this game too much to fall for his coaxing. It's not like you can't find another one just like her!
That's not the point! Why don't you like her? Danny shot back, grunting in the effort to stand. He leaned heavily against the tent wall, sinking into it and hoping no one on the other side noticed anything strange. What's so bad about her? Why can't you just accept her like you've accepted everything else in my life?
Having this other half, to which it called itself respectively 'Dan', was more of a bother than a true problem. Danny often had to encourage him to accept the little things in his life, like his interests in dogs or his dislike of pistachio ice-cream, in order to make Dan just a little more alike to him. Their interests varied greatly and their personalities were vastly different, however, so it was mostly in vain.
While Danny adored his parents, Dan thought they were suffocating idiots who should go out and get real jobs and leave the ghost hunting to the true professionals.
While Danny would give his life for his best friend, Tucker, Dan often commented that best friends came and went and it wouldn't really matter, anyways, since best friends were the most likely to back stab you.
While Danny was positive he loved Sam, Dan rudely stated she was a Gothic psycho who needed to get some meat in her diet least she die of being a skinny—he didn't even want to get into that conversation.
Danny had managed to convince Dan into accepting his parents (thought he had yet to reunite with them..) and Tucker. Dan merely thought of the African American boy as a nuisance and perhaps a good decoy should any of their plans go awry, for now. Whatever these 'plans' were, Danny did not want any part of them. He was just relieved Dan had accepted him.
Because! Dan roared, making Danny visibly flinch. She's going to break you! Don't you understand? Love isn't anything more than a couple of chemical imbalances! It'll fade!
So what? Danny roared back, eyes flashing a deep blue. So what if it'll fade? So what if she breaks me? Because of you I've already broken her, don't you think it'll even it out if I just gave into her?
Dan was quiet, giving Danny enough time to suck in a shaky breath and slowly ebb the anger. Emotional situations were usually dangerous to Danny; if he got too emotional, felt too happy, felt too sad or angry, Dan had an opening and nine out of ten times he would take that opening.
"Danny, we have a show scheduled for seven tonight—" The words died on Lydia's throat, as she witnessed yet another battle for dominance within Danny Fenton. It wouldn't be the first time she'd seen him desperately trying to regain some of his sense. The first time it had happened, she had been so scared for both herself and him. When he was stuck between sanity and insanity, there was no telling what he'd do. Sometimes, he would spit awful words at her while other times he'd weakly tell her to leave him alone for a little while.
Danny slowly regained his head, as he leaned off the wall and stumbled to his bed. He shakily sat down, holding his skull in his palm. It felt as if it'd been stuffed up with cotton; a usual side-effect, along with fatigue and irritability, that came from their usual inner squabbles.
"Lydia?" Danny called, softly. He opened one blue eye, sheepishness seeping into his tone: "Could you bring me a cup of water? Please?"
"Of course," Lydia said, after regaining her vocals. "Would you like some pain killers as well?"
"Nah," he shook his head, wincing when it made his head hurt even more. "Uh, about the show? When does it start?"
"Seven."
Danny groaned. "So soon?"
"Well, you still have one hour," Lydia informed, glancing at the clock sitting on his desk. "Its only six. You still have enough time to get dressed but if you are feeling this ill then I could always cancel the show—"
"No," Danny sighed. "The show has to go on. I'll do it. I just thought I had more time, that's all."
"I shall return soon with your beverage." Lydia stepped out, one last concerned glance over her shoulder before disappearing completely.
Danny rubbed his temples, grumbling inwardly and hoping Dan would hear ever nasty word he could think of.
Haha, is that all you got Dan-Dan? I've had girls call me worse things!
Shut up and be good, Danny snapped, heading to his wardrobe and shuffling through the array of black clothing. He pulled out his usual attire with practiced ease, his head still a little heavy on his shoulders. He changed his boots into a heavier pair that reached his knees. He changed his shirt for a clean tank top but kept his black jeans, throwing a dragging trench coat over him. He slipped on his torn-up finger-less gloves and quickly outlined his eyes, poking himself at least three times before finally finishing.
Danny ran his fingers through his hair, making some strands stick out messily but achieving his signature look. His nails were fine, he decided, even if some were chipped. But wasn't this a show of freaks? A little chipped nail polish shouldn't matter. He slipped on his rings, clipped on some earrings and snapped on his spiked dog collar.
Once he was finished he glanced in the mirror. He didn't like the way he looked. To be honest, he always considered this to be more Sam's thing – the black make up, the black assemble of clothing, the utterly black heavy boots – but ever since he adopted the circus it became apparent to him that dressing normally – with plain t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers – wasn't very accepted when running a circus specially made to house the socially suicidal.
It had been the only reason he had changed his clothing style so drastically, using Sam's typical attire as a reference. He had contemplated getting a Mohawk but that seemed to take it too far and he was honestly too lazy to maintain such a hairstyle. He figured his stark white hair would make up for the lack-of-cool-hairstyle so many other circus freaks had.
Danny walked over to his bedside and picked up his staff, a black staff with a iron handle in the shape of a ghostly skull. It was a plain staff, nothing very flashy or expensive, but it worked for what he needed it, which was for some performances that involved jumping off from very high statures and fire.
"Danny, I see you are ready," Lydia's voice distracted him. He turned and started when he noticed just how close she was. He really hated when she did that.
"Space," he muttered, feeling her cold shoulder brush his own. "I need space!"
"I am sorry!" She looked down, face drawn in shame, and he felt bad for being so blunt. He forgot just how sensitive she was about these things. She hadn't really been the same ever since Freak show's brainwashing.
"Er, no, it's alright. I didn't mean it in a bad way, I mean—just don't do that, okay? One day you'll give me a heart attack and then I'll really be dead." He laughed nervously, not liking the way Dan laughed inside his skull, adding his own comments that involved gruesome ways to die. He honestly took the jabs at his mortality too literally.
"Your drink," she pushed the plate forward and he took the glass, draining it in a few gulps. He placed it back and thanked her with a smile, which caused her to look away. He frowned but shrugged it off, thinking maybe she was looking at something on the floor when in reality she was composing herself after being submitted to his bright smile.
"It is almost time. I have conducted the last-minute preparations and all seems to be fine. I would suggest you begin to prepare backstage, though. We're starting a few minutes ahead of schedule due to a large influx of guests in the tents."
"A few minutes how early?"
"Ten minutes."
"Ten? That's not so bad," he mumbled, nodding. "Okay. Let's go."
"Wait!" Lydia said, as Danny reached the door.
"What?"
"Your hat." It hung upon the corner of his vanity, raggedy and huge, looking very misplaced in a room that looked fairly normal. She dusted it off and took care of some minor dents with a sweep of her hand. She stepped forward and floated a few feet up to place it on his head properly, tilting it to obstruct part of his face as per usual.
Danny grinned wryly. "Oh, hey, thanks, Ly! I totally forgot about this old thing!"
"You are welcomed," she coughed, stepping back as Danny tuned to leave, his coat dragging in his wake. She stared at his back for a few moments more before going intangible and flying to the main stage by sticking close to the ceiling, where she needed to discuss a few minor changes with the lights to the staff working them.
Danny checked the most important equipment quickly, waving at some ghosts and human staff, and made sure everything was in place before the show began. He checked his cellphone, seeing it was ten minutes before showtime. His stomach squirmed a little but it was nothing he wasn't used to; it had been worse in the beginning, when he was so awkward in such dark clothing. He didn't fit the goth scene at all! If it hadn't been for Dan's sudden possession he'd have screwed up any chances in making Circus Gothica a hit.
"Is everyone ready?" Danny called, weaving through backstage. The velvet curtain concealing them fluttered faintly with the draft coming from the open doors on either side of the tents. "Hello? Everyone?"
"Yeah, we're good to go!" A fellow ghost called back, followed by a wave of agreement from the rest, who were fixing their costumes or rehearsing their parts quickly.
"Great!" Danny smiled, walking to the edge of the curtain and peeking out. It was a full-house, something common nowadays, and he was pleased to see it wasn't just goth and scene kids but families and regular folk.
This is kind of bad because I'll probably scare the living out of them but its okay! Danny told himself with a sigh. Maybe I won't scar them too badly... He sort of knew this wasn't true.
"We're on in five people!" A second-in-control ghost called, floating overhead them with a clipboard. "FIVE! DO YOU ALL HEAR ME?"
"A little too clear, you damn—"
"Count! Language!"
"Yeah, yeah..."
Danny smiled at the grumbling ghost, who lifting his ax to rest on his shoulders as his voluptuous partner fixed the black bows on her dress. She caught Danny's eye and waved politely, giving him a thumbs up to show she was ready for another show.
A sudden, stifling, ache came from his head and he paused his own waving. Danny rubbed his forehead, the pain increasing in volume. Not now. He tried to ignore the ache as he glanced at his phone, at the date, and frowned. There was only five more days until October thirty first, the day he was expected to give his best performance of all time. It was the final performance and he would have to extend the tent to accommodate the amount of guests that were estimated to come.
The ache became drawn out pulses of pain.
For a moment, the cellular screen stretched and distorted. He blinked, trying to get rid of the fuzziness of his vision. But somehow it only made it worse, as the colors glowing became a mixture. He looked up, holding his head, and saw everything was vague shapes and intermixing colors.
He leaned against the wall, watching the curtain prepare to be pulled back. He could feel panic start to well in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't ready. He pushed himself off the wall and was about to call the entire thing off – the pounding of his head becoming unbearable – when a sudden black was drawn over his eyes.
"Danny!" Lydia shouted, her eyes wide with fear when she saw him collapse. She made frantic motions to the men handling the curtains, who nodded and halted the motion mid-way. She could hear the crowd murmuring at the half-drawn curtain but she ignored this; Danny's health more pressing. She didn't even think about it as she leaped off the lift holding her meters in the air and flew toward Danny, who was still lying face-down on the ground.
Right before reaching him, he awoke, getting on his knee's and shaking his head. She approached him cautiously, not sure how this will turn out when his shoulder started to shake and his laughter became audible. His voice sounded a little deeper, a little different, and Lydia wondered if this was his other self. It would not be the first time...
"Danny?" she whispered, and he looked up. His eyes were a mixture of blue and green, glowing with a deviousness that made her stomach knot. It was his other self and she felt slightly thrilled, though a little guilt for feeling so. This self gave her more attention than his other self. He stood upright in one fluid motion, clenching his hands and stretching his lips into a wide grin.
"What're you standing there like a moron for?" He grinned, flicking his eyes to the men atop the lift. He waved his hand. "Pull the curtain! Hurry! These people came for a show and a show we'll give them!"
"Danny, are you okay?" she asked, brows furrowed, and Danny tilted his head curiously.
"Of course I am," he responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And call me Dan, sweetheart, Danny sounds too...kiddish."
Lydia opened her mouth to say more when the lights flicked on and the music began. The entire entourage became tangible, eliciting a gasp from the crowd, and soon the stage was brimming with the strange, the wicked, the plain freaky, and Dan laughed with maniacal mirth at all their shocked faces. A few regulars cheered and hooted, causing an uproar of noise from everyone else.
The ghosts that dominated the edges of the stage were dressed in their infamous clothing – skimpy, tight, and leather – and some even prowled through the audience, scaring the wits of distracted guests. Personally, Dan liked that the best; the faces these mortals made always made his dead heart pound with life.
"Come on, the show is about to start!" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the stage, onto the center light, extending his hand outward and grabbing the mic that fell from the ceiling, where one of the backstage staff was happily watching the show begin.
"Hello Amity Park!" Dan roared into the mic, walking around a bit as his crew began to get into position. "Welcome to the show of freaks! The one true circus that accepts both the wicked and the strange! I assure you this show will be nothing less than spectacular! Nothing less than thrilling as well as disgusting! It's where all your nightmares will come true and a place where your deepest desires come alive! No person is rejected in this family because how can you when you're about to witness the performance of the socially unaccepted? " he murmured the last bit, checking over his shoulder to see some of the ghosts scowl at him. They always did get annoyed when he poked fun at them. This only encouraged Dan to do it more often.
"Circus Gothic promises the show of a lifetime. So, broaden your views, open your mind, because what you are about to see will leave you questioning everything..."
There was a low, menacing, growl from behind Danny, who merely smirked and ran forward, stepping onto the rail that divided the stage from the seats. He leaned forward, sweeping his eyes across the crowd that waited with baited breath for him to continue. "And now, my friends, I have only one question to ask you," he held one finger up, as the growling grew louder and deeper. All of a sudden, the lights were turned to their full extent, causing many to flinch away, and the crowd gasped with both terror and fascination as the shadows which were once ink in the background stretched and pulled and became a shark-toothed grin with sinister red eyes. The growling became nearly deafening, as Danny laughed into the mic and gave a great leap back, returning to the center of the stage.
"So, Amity!" He chuckled darkly into the mic, the shifting shadows behind him consuming the entire stadium until not even the powerful beams of light above them could remove the pressing darkness. His eyes glittered with black mirth, lips upturned in a smirk, as he asked the final question before the stage would explode in an array of colors that would follow the marching troops of the true undead: "How should I scare you tonight?"
A/N: This chapter was a little hard to dish out, mostly because how I write this story is I get inspired and I don't stop until that inspiration fades, which is usually after I write a chapter or two. I usually work on other stories and leave this one alone until ideas flood me again. That's likely why it's updated monthly, which I try to maintain or else it'd be updated every 2 months or something.
I've got a general idea for the next chapter, but don't expect any miracles like my updating soon. When I say "I'll update soon!" it usually translates to "I'll procrastinate, update ubber late, and make up some half-assed excuse" XD
REVIEW!
Scarlett.