AN: And so the plot begins. Thanks for the reviews, I hope you all continue reading and enjoying this, and please let me know if you have feedback. I'd love to hear it. :) By the way, if you're wondering how I can update so fast, let me reiterate that this is a story I began two years ago and I still have the original chapters that I'm revamping. So yeah. For the first few chapters expect fast updates.
Disclaimer: Yep, you guessed it. As of this very moment, Danny Phantom doesn't belong to me, although if it did the tv series would be continuing. Also, TAPS doesn't belong to me, it goes to SciFi and Jason and Grant and whoever else came up with the television idea.
As if a 21-hour car ride wasn't enough for me, I was stuck in a van consisting of all men. Not to mention that they were all older than me, so I didn't understand their jokes either. It generally made for a quiet car ride unless they tried to talk to me. But that rarely happened, so I usually fell asleep. Now, this was before TAPS had hit the television, so luckily there weren't any cameras zoomed in on me. I was probably snoring anyway. Or drooling. Maybe both.
This time, however, I woke with a start. The red eyes again. They showed up a lot, in my dreams. Nightmares. Whatever you want to call them.
Grant, who was currently in the passenger seat, turned around and gave me a funny look before asking me if I was alright. "Uhh, yeah, I was just…startled because we, uhh, hit a bump and I was asleep." Yeah, I'm not that great a liar. I know.
I don't know if they were genuinely convinced or they just didn't feel like pursuing the matter, but they left it at that, and I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding.
Fortunately we were only about fifteen minutes out at that point, and I soon found myself staring at one of the largest sanatoriums I had ever seen in my life. The Waverly Hills Sanatorium: supposedly home to thousands of ghosts, many from the Civil War when hospitals were rare and disease was plaguing the country. This was going to be interesting. I already felt a headache coming on from the mere thought of a thousand ghosts all talking to me, trying to communicate with our world. Trust me, it's not as cool a talent as it sounds.
It seemed to take hours to set up all the equipment, but with good reason-after all, the building was a beast in size and probably not all the areas were safe, causing problems to reach them. We were splitting our investigation to two nights, so we could look into the entire building. It was already ten at night when we were ready for lights out, and the team had warned us that we'd probably be pulling an all-night investigation. I didn't mind, of course. I'm a night owl anyway. But the collective groan was duly noted.
I broke off with Dave and headed toward the body chute, while Jason and Grant went to the fourth floor and Steve and Dustin headed off somewhere to do EVPS. At first, there was nothing. Even with the sensitivity that I have, I heard nothing, and I saw nothing. It felt dead-no pun intended.
When Grant called Dave on his walkie-talkie, I figured it was to go ahead and call it a night-after all, we weren't getting any activity. But Grant called us up to the fourth floor to talk. When we got there, he told me that he wanted me to stay-alone-in the fourth floor for a bit and see if anything was going to happen. I agreed, and moved over to where a ball had been placed for an alleged ghost child that liked moving it around.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then I heard the faint echo of a voice humming. It sounded small and high pitched-a child's voice. Now, being sensitive means that I can feel the energy in the air, and the heavier it is signifies a probable entity in the area. Lo and behold, the air started getting heavy. Lucky me.
The minute I asked it to speak to me, everything stopped. I could feel the energy lessen; I could sense that whatever it was was retreating. So, I started a conversation. "Hey, it's alright, none of us are here to hurt you. We just want to understand what's going on here." I guess the only people I'm ever civil to are ghosts, and you can hold me to that if you want. But hey, it's a kid, and I didn't want to be mean.
Slowly I felt the energy return, and for a second I felt proud that I had called the spirit back. So, I asked it again if it could talk to me. And then I finally got a response.
The voice was small, just like the humming I had heard. And, although it was high, it sounded like a young boy. "But he'll get mad if I talk to you." Why were ghosts always so damn cryptic?
"He who?" I asked in return. Well, at least he was talking to me.
"My brother. He gets angry whenever I let people know I'm here. They always put a ball out for me to play with, but I don't get to play with it much because he says it's bad." Well, we were getting somewhere.
"It's okay, I promise I'm not here to hurt you or your brother. I just want to know what's going on, why you guys are still here." I generally didn't get afraid whenever I had conversations with spirits, mainly because I could tell that they weren't troublesome or evil.
"Well, I don't really know. I came here with my parents a long time ago. We were all really sick. And the doctor said he would help us. I can't remember much, all I know is that I ended up here, and my parents didn't ever find me. Say, you look funny." At first I thought it was an insult, but then I realized it was most likely the fact that even though he had probably seen modern-day people, he never saw anyone quite like me. I guess it's a compliment. So I chose to ignore the comment completely.
"What about your brother though? Wasn't he with you?" Unfortunately, children weren't the most reliable source of information, and it seemed that I already hit a bump in the road since he didn't say a thing about the brother he had previously mentioned.
"Oh, well, he's not my real brother. He came here a few years ago, and he takes care of me." The child seemed pretty lost, and I felt bad for him. Not to mention that if his past was correct, he felt that his parents had abandoned him. At least another spirit had the kindness to take him in, but I didn't understand why this said spirit didn't want him playing when people were around.
"So, why does your brother not want you to talk to people or anything?"
"I'm not really sure. He says that if someone finds out he's here, then he'll be taken away, and I'll be by myself again."
"Do you know who will take him away?" The story was getting deeper and deeper, and quite confusing as well. Now I was interested in his brother more, and maybe if I could just talk to him…
"No, he just said that whoever it is is a bad guy who wants to hurt him." And by the sound of it, I would have to find this brother for myself to get the entire story. But how do you find a ghost that doesn't want to be found?
I thought it was best to talk to the child a bit more, make him see me as a friend-then, maybe, he would be able to get the other out. "Well, my name is Sam. What's your name?"
"I can't remember what my parents called me, but my brother calls me-"
"Timmy, what do you think you're doing?" An enraged voice broke through the quite calm conversation, and I could feel the second presence enter the hallway. Oh, was he mad. I started tensing up in response, partly from the voice and partly from the heavy tension that now hung in the air.
"No, it's okay, she's a good person, even if she looks funny..." he spoke back softly. I could hear the fear in his voice. And it was my fault in a way that he got in trouble, which sent me on a guilt trip. Children didn't need to be punished for something that wasn't their fault, regardless if they were dead. Guess it was Sam to the rescue.
"Look, I'm not here to kick you guys out or anything, I just need to find out-" I was cut off by the angry ghost, however, which made me bite my tongue to remain civil. And I mean, I was pretty damn close to drawing blood.
"I don't know what you've told Timmy to convince him that you're actually a good person, but I know it's all a lie. Human intervention can only lead to bad things. You're just another hunter who wants to catch a ghost and run crazy experiments." Great. Apparently, I was the bad guy in this situation, and I was being put down by someone who was dead.
"Look, I'm a medium, not a hunter. I'm not here to capture you, I'm not here to remove you, my team and I just want answers, and since I'm the only sensitive one on the team, I'm the one who was sent in to do it. I'm only here to help," I ended, my temper flaring. Ignorant ghosts weren't my cup of tea, and since I wasn't a people person, it didn't make a good mix.
"You think I'm going to fall for this? I wasn't born yesterday. All of you are the same. You just want answers? Yeah, right. You want to know everything you can about ghosts, and you'll do anything to get those answers. I learned the hard way to not trust anyone, and I'm not about to give up on that."
Okay, he pissed me off. I don't care what he had been through; he was judging me before he even heard my story. I couldn't be civil any longer.
"Me? I'm the bad one? Get a grip. You can't judge me by past events, and if you do, then you're just insecure and afraid. You're not the only one who's been hurt in the past, you know. I was nearly killed by a ghost, and yet I still stand here today, and I don't hold a grudge against all ghosts. If you had half a mind you would understand that concept. But it's obvious that you don't want help and you can take on whatever is after you, and I don't want to get involved with a ghost who is an ignoramus. It's just a shame that you would let Timmy suffer because you can't get over something that doesn't have anything to do with me." Probably a little more than necessary, but it also got my point across. Bet you he still doesn't know some of the words I said.
For a while, I heard silence. Then, to my surprise, I heard the ghost I assumed was Timmy.
"I really think she could help us. Please, give her a chance." For the first time, I actually had a ghost sticking up for me. How ironic.
"What could you do? You're dealing with people who aren't alive. The rules are different." The response was delayed, and his voice was very muffled, like he was speaking through his teeth. Superiority complex, much?
"Look, how long have you been here? I know you couldn't have died here, because Timmy said that you haven't been here very long, and this place closed up at least a century ago."
"I don't know, four years? It's not like I keep a calendar." Sarcasm. Just what I need-a dose of my own medicine. Guess it was coming for me sooner or later.
"So, are you telling me you aren't physically tied to any one location?" This was certainly something that was different. I didn't think ghosts could easily move around from place to place. Scratch that, I know regular ghosts can't move from place to place.
"No. Am I supposed to be?" The malice in his voice was easily detectable, and I really wasn't looking forward to helping this guy. I could tell we weren't going to get along.
"All I'm saying is that if you aren't tied here, you can be relocated. Then Timmy isn't in any danger."
"No way. I'm not leaving him alone. This isn't the Witness Protection Program." I should have figured that reasoning was beyond this ghost's comprehension.
"There are other ghosts here. He'll be safe if you aren't around, because by the sound of it, someone is after you and will take out anything or anyone who gets in his way."
"Why do you want to help me anyway?" I could tell he was avoiding the fact that I made a point. Score one for Sam, Mr. Enigma zero.
"Because I know what it feels like to have the one thing that was your sanctuary taken away from you. I know what it feels like to be left with nothing." And this time, I actually meant what I said to him. "Look, I should probably get going. We're going to be back here tomorrow night to cover the rest of the place, so be ready to give me an answer." With that, I walked out.
As I returned to the group, I felt like I betrayed them all. Because the minute Timmy began speaking, I turned the power off my devices, and when they asked what happened, I lied to the only people who really understood me. I told them "not much."