Chapter Two;

Danny decided that the best course of action would to pack a bag with everything he might need. Especially since Danny lived in Illinois and Burgess was in Pennsylvania.

Danny packed a phone, a map of Burgess printed off from Google Maps, a GPS, a cord, portable solar charger, his waterproof watch, and a boat-ton of snacks. Mostly sandwiches, energy bars, fruit, and water bottles.

He also had pictures of the journal on his phone, mainly because if Danny did manage to find Jack, at least then Danny could provide a way to prove that he wasn't some crazy without lugging a half-dozen books with him along with everything else.

He also had some flowers for Flee and Jack, but that was about it. No weapons, no backup, no military strategy. Just… this.

It felt nice. Danny also felt grossly unprepared, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Danny swung the grey hikers-backpack onto his shoulders and began to thump downstairs, biting his lower lip.

"Hey. Mom, Dad..."

Danny waited for an answer. Nothing.

"Mom, Dad!" Danny called again, louder.

"Hmm?" Came a distracted hum from Jack Fenton.

"I'm going out!"

"Oh?" Jack Fenton waved Danny off as he worked on the strange gadget on the kitchen table. "Sure, have fun!"

Danny paused as he waited for his mom to say anything. To look away from her tools for a moment and un-furrow her brows from concentration to tell him something. Remind him to bring something, to ask who was going with him, where he was going; the kind of questions like all moms do. This was the kind of thing Maddie Fenton should do, after all.

Instead, she said nothing. She didn't even look up from what she was invested in.

Danny swayed on the toes and heel of his feet, "I'm going to Pennsylvania." The moment Danny said it he froze from the stupidity of it. Danny held his breath and waited for an answer.

Nothing. Whatever it was that had Jack Fenton peel his attention from his invention had flickered out.

As much as Danny hated it, he felt something in him crumble and withdraw.

Danny turned to the door, "I'll see you guys later," he muttered. He let his shoes thump loudly as he left through the front door.

And still, Danny heard nothing.

. . .

Danny slumped his shoulders. The trees here were so thick that they tuned out all and any wifi signals, and flying seemed like the only clear way to see the lake, but there were definitely no signals up there either.

It really didn't help that the GPS was a total bust. Flickering in and out until finally the screen fuzzed to black no matter how many smacks he gave it with his HAZMAT-gloved hand. The good news was that the GPS had failed once he was already in Pennsylvania and in the general area of Burgess.

The only thing that gave Danny even a general direction of where he was going now was the Google Map that he was glad he'd had the foresight to print out. The problem with that, however, was that the paper kept flapping in the wind. Danny had to slow down so he could read and follow directions properly.

This wasn't really a huge problem, though. Minus the fact that Danny's patience was wearing thin after hours of traveling, flying, and getting lost repeatedly.

Danny was, understandably, exhausted. Contrary to popular belief, flying took the same amount of energy as walking or running (depending on how fast Danny went).

So, basically, the energy Danny had used was equal to if someone walked, jogged and even ran for roughly 639 miles. And, according to his watch, Danny had been traveling for approximately 3 to 4 hours straight. The only reason that Danny even had an ounce of hope of flying back at all was that his ghost hunting had built up his stamina for him to do something like this.

Danny blinked as he finally saw it; a small, nearly forgotten graveyard. He swooped down and landed on his feet, not even flinching when the white beams sliced across him through the middle. Danny's grey-white hair turned to midnight and his poisonous green eyes reverted back to a more human blue that lacked the unearthly glow that only his ghost form's eyes could possess.

Danny heaved as he tried to regain his breath, similar to how a jogger would after a long run. Danny let his bag slide off his shoulders as he, in groggy movements, opened it and devoured several energy bars and drank nearly half of a water bottle in one gulp.

By a few minutes, Danny's breath slowed as he turned to his bag once more and pulled out a handmade bouquet of flowers. It was a jumble of all sorts of flowers. Some of the stems were broken and petals were missing. But, for the most part, it stayed reasonably together.

Danny wasn't going to lie, he couldn't help but feel guilty for the condition of the bouquet. Danny glanced around the graveyard as if a ghost was going to dig out and shame him. And all things considering, it was plausible. Thankfully, the place seemed quiet. It was clear that no one had been buried here in years.

Danny zipped up the bag and swung it over his shoulders once more.

From flying for so long, Danny's legs shook from the new adjustment. His legs felt like rubber and his right foot was rather numb. It was an unfortunate side effect of flying with a ghostly tail, at least one of his feet always fell asleep, sometimes both. Clumsily, Danny looked for Flee's grave.

Danny's legs slowly steadied, his foot starting to feel normal again, but finding the grave was no easy feat. All the headstones that were from the appropriate time where worn flat and many more Danny suspected were covered in vines

It was absolute dumb luck that Danny found it. That, and Danny suddenly having an idea on where it could be from Flee's own journal. But of course, valuable information must always come to Danny late.

In the journal, Jack and Flee would come to a small hill late in the dark and look at the stars together when the night was warm and the work load less than usual.

Even if Danny only knew her through the journals, he felt his heart drop to his stomach as he looked at the grave.

Danny stood very still as the world went quiet, as if holding its breath. The only sound being the wind that softly whistled in Danny's ears and the swaying of the grass and branches. The bouquet felt loose in Danny's hand until he tightened his grip once more.

Danny placed the flowers on top of the headstone, being careful to not walk over Flee's grave. His hand hovered above the place where Danny placed the flowers before he withdrew it back to his side.

Danny opened his mouth to say something, but, only to realize that he didn't really have anything worth saying. And Flee from the Journals seemed like one that valued only words that meant something.

So, instead, Danny said nothing.

Danny clenched and unclenched his hands, before deciding to leave, feeling strangely as though he saw something that he shouldn't've.

Danny decided to walk to the lake, his legs seemingly acting on their own record. As if something had pulled him there.

Not that Danny mind walking for a bit, he had a long flight home. (about three hours to be exact.) Not that he was exactly on a time crunch; his parents no doubt thought he was in his room.

Danny smacked a tree branch out of the way, and another, and another.

Danny loves nature, truly. But all he'd seen for the past hour of walking were trees. And Danny was too drained to just phase through them.

The first thing Danny felt when he found a clearing was relief. He was done moving thick branches out of the way.

The moment Danny actually processed his surroundings, he felt wonder. Even though it was only fall, the place was encased in frost and the scene before him glittered like diamonds in the light.

Then a frown settled on Danny's face as he remembered that a body was sunk at the bottom. Death never seemed so harsh and ugly and real than in moments such as this.

All because, for better or for worse, Danny found the infamous lake.

Danny turned to a nearby tree and gasped at what he saw, eyes growing wide like a child in a candy shop. The frost was detailed in an almost playful fashion.

Danny moved on from the trees and then observed the lake. If he'd thought the frost on the trees was lovely, the patterns of frost atop the lake were just something else entirely. They were much more detailed, precise, as if someone had made them while lost in thought.

Danny, traditionally, was completely unaware that someone was watching him.

. . .

Jack Frost looked at the dark-haired boy unimpressed, but slightly curious. Most people who come here usually do so on a dare or were pitifully lost.

Jack Frost looked at the boy with weary eyes, then promptly face-palmed when the teen, wearing a thin red jacket, began walking on the ice without checking how thick it was.

Jack Frost decided that the teen with the red jacket was absolutely void of common sense and, ultimately, a moron.

Not that Jack Frost should be one to judge when it comes to impulsive decisions, but he died here; he should have a smidge of an excuse to be a stick in the mud when it came to matters like this.

Jack's fingers dragged off his face and he placed his staff against the tree as he silently asked the wind to carry him close to the idiot that was already nearing to the center, looking at the ice not caring or paying any attention of his surroundings.

Honestly Jack didn't know why he started flying towards the other boy, it wasn't like he could catch him. But, the wind could. And maybe that would be enough, should the worst occur.

Once more Jack Frost looked around, for a friend or anyone really nearby this guy that made bad decisions. Only not to see anyone.

By now, Jack was only a few feet away from the other boy.

Maybe the guy heard something, maybe the wind whistled in his ears too loudly or maybe the other boy heard a branch snap. Whatever the cause, Jack watched the boy's head swivel into his general direction.

Jack Frost expected a blank stare that would pass through him, as that's what typically happened. The other boy, however, strangely seemed to train his eyes on him.

Not that this was too surprising to Jack; there would be times where people would appear to be staring at him, but it was always something behind Jack. The winter spirit almost spun around to check what the other boy was actually looking at when 'red jacket guy' turned to face him.

"You're Jack Overland, right?"

Now that… was new.

Jack Frost could hear the wind howling with laughter as he was drifting in the air, paralyzed. No one called him by his old surname… No one had looked him in the eye for a long, long time as an equal.

The boy was still looking at Jack and it was making his skin itch, "Please say yes, I've been looking for this guy like crazy." The boy paused, furrowing his brow as be thought over his words. "That… came out wrong."

Jack Frost blinked, jaw slack. "Who- who are you, exactly?"

The boy mocked a bow with a grin. "Danny Fenton, at your service-"

Both winced as a cracking noise emitted from Danny's feet.

With eyes wide, Jack grabbed Danny around the waist and lifted him off the ground as the ice shattered apart like glass, showing a black void of murky water underneath.

It took Danny a moment to realize what had just happened and why he was now nose-to-nose with the teen he assumed was Jack Overland. Well, his ghost anyway.

Thinking a bit more clearly, Danny reasoned that he should have just hovered slightly above the lake. However, flying or really using any kind of ghost powers was kind of the last thing Danny wanted to do right now, despite the fact that Danny was more than capable if the situation called for it. Jack Overland did save him the trouble of losing anything in the water or just being wet in general.

It wasn't as though the cold water would do much besides give him an uncomfortably wet and chafe-y flight home (thank you, icy ghost core), but Danny was glad that the other boy had acted fast enough to pull him away.

Speaking of which, Danny thought to himself as he regained control of his racing mind, I should probably say something. Anything. Open mouth, do words.

"Uh… thanks! Yeah, thanks! I'm Danny Fenton; that's… what I was saying before. Uh, before the ice… yeah." Danny was barely able to articulate. That's what you're going with. Okay. Just tell him to drop you in the water now to save himself.

Had his arms not been pinned to his sides, Danny would slap his face at the sheer stupidity of his lame display of gratitude.

Well, it wasn't exactly his fault! He'd not been sleeping well lately, his trip here took hours, and his brain was a glorified pile of mush at this point. Not to mention, he was still being held tightly against the floating boy. That, in and of itself, would have probably been enough to melt the scattered remnants of his brain anyway.

Wanting to correct that lame 'thank you', without actually taking back what he said, Danny naturally began talking; letting the words just fall out of his mouth before thinking.

"I wandered around forever trying to find this place. Ah, to find you. I mean, even getting nearby was suckish. My GPS crapped out on me, so I had to use a map, but I'm really bad at reading maps and using a compass so I was making educated guesses for a lot of it. Do you know how many miles of woods surround this place? A lot. I thought the limbs on the trees would end up breaking mine before I was able to get somewhere without them. It's been hours, no joke. I swear I've gotten my fill of wilderness for a lifetime."

The halfa finally regained control over his yapping mouth when he realized how much he was saying in comparison to his companion.

Danny wasn't sure if the look of shock on the other teen's face was because of what happened as far as the ice breaking, or because of the word vomit that Danny had just so gracefully spewed without thinking.

Meanwhile, Jack was trying to process several things at once and found himself overloaded.

Okay, item number one. What in the frostbitten arctic was this absolute idiot thinking?! What exactly what his endgame, traipsing around ice that was semi-solid at best?! Oh, wait, he said he was looking for him. Duh.

That brought him to item number two. How did this guy know him? And by a name he hadn't heard, nor gone by, in centuries?

Item three. He was securely in his arms. As in, Jack was holding him. Solidly. Oh… whoa. This was new. This was… crazy. He could hold him. Unconsciously, Jack tightened his hold as if to make things more real for him. Yes, he was definitely holding someone in his arms. He could feel the warmth radiating from the human boy. Danny, he said his name was.

Jack was at a loss. What exactly was going on, he had no idea. Though he assumed that the best way to start figuring things out was to say something in return.

"You just nearly died… just now, not even a minute ago, and your first topic of conversation… is our location?" Jack asked, genuinely surprised and, if he was honest, rather amused.

Danny opened his mouth and then shut it, "Well, I wouldn't say that I nearly died exactly-"

Jack cut him a sharp look.

Danny briefly considered telling Jack that 'you can't fix dead' as an answer but then decided that, perhaps that wasn't the best course of action. "Alright, fair enough."

Jack then shifted Danny into bridal-style carrying position, which Danny couldn't help but be grateful for. Danny's arms were starting to get cramped, and walking, standing or even flying was the last thing he wanted right now.

Jack Overland seemed to flounder for words, "What- how do you even know my last name? They don't call me Overland anymore."

"What do they call you then? And who's they? You're not a part of some undead cult or something, are you?" Danny asked far too casually.

Jack rose his head in something similar to pride, "They call me Jack Frost," Jack Frost then made a face as he processed that last sentence Danny said. "And no, I'm not a part of a cult. The 'they' are the other spirits and Guardians."

"That sounds like a cult." Danny said bluntly. He then raised his arms in surrender. "Not judging, just saying."

"Hey, you still haven't answered my question." Jack Frost said.

Danny made a mental note that Jack Frost didn't bother denying it again. "You kinda started off as a personal excuse and a better alternative to my history family tree project and I honestly didn't think it would go this far."

Jack Frost blinked, "Are we relatives?" They looked nothing alike, from head to toe they couldn't have looked any more different.

Danny snorted. "Ha, hell no. Not even close. I did like, three hundred years of research and we are the first official meeting from either family lines." Danny paused, "My great, something, great Uncle might've met you. Does the name Edward ring any bells?"

Jack frowned in thought as he wracked his memories for an 'Edward'. It took him several minutes before he could remember someone specific from the time he was alive.

"Oh, yeah, I think so. That neighbor who only hung around for a half-year that always communicated in grunts and looks. He was your great-something Uncle? You don't look related at all, just saying. Well, besides the black hair, anyway… so, I'm a research project? I think I should be flattered, right?" Jack asked with a grin.

Danny nearly rolled his eyes but refrained. Instead he met Jack's cocky grin with one of his own.

"I mean, you got the attention of me, a C-minus average kid that doesn't typically read for fun; so yeah, I'd say that you should be flattered."

Jack decided that, even if this guy had nearly caused him to have a stroke, he liked Danny well enough.

Now it was time for the next question. Jack Frost unconsciously held Danny closer and gave a weary glance at the ice below them, "So, wait. Hold on. If you only knew of me as Jack Overland then how come you can see me?"

Danny gave Jack Frost a blank look. "What?"

Jack tore his eyes away from the ice, "Only kids who believe in me can see me," Jack eyed Danny, "or, really anybody who believes in me I guess."

"Sorry, but I just have more questions now." Danny said. "Like, for starters, why Jack Frost? And aren't spirits the same thing as ghosts?"

Jack Frost then abruptly stopped "I- wait- hold on. You think I'm a ghost?"

"Well… " Danny said matter-of-factly yet gently, "you did drown in this lake."

"You… you know of that?" Jack Frost paused. "Oh, right. The Journals." He then shook his head, then hesitated. "I'm dead, but... I'm not? It's weird. It was the man in the moon that brought me back."

"The… man in the… moon." Danny said slowly. "Alright, ok. Please put me down." Now Danny didn't really care that he was still above ice. Jack had obviously lost some screws along the way.

"I'm- I'm not crazy!" Jack Frost stuttered. "I- look. I have a heartbeat, pulse, something. I don't know what it is exactly or, how whatever this is works. But-" Jack swallowed. "I'm not dead. At least, not completely."

Jack slowly placed Danny down on firm soil when they reached it. "And I can prove it." Jack reached out his arm, "This is how you guys take a pulse, right?"

Not being dead but kind of dead? Danny could relate. He took Jack's hand and looked for a pulse.

There was a pulse. It wasn't a heartbeat, but it wasn't a pulse of ectoplasm ether. And Danny suddenly realized that Jack didn't even once triggered Danny's ghost sense.

Danny slowly withdrew his hand, "Um, wow. Ok, I believe you."

Jack Frost deflated in relief.

Danny himself had a pulse. Sometimes ectoplasm spreading from his core, sometimes blood spreading from his heart. Jack had neither, so that crossed out Jack Frost being another halfling (Danny liked this better then 'halfa'). Or a ghost. Or a human. Period.

This was weird. Very weird. It called for a subject change.

Danny pointed to the bag that he brought that was lumped by the edge of the lake, "I brought you flowers."

Jack Frost raised a brow and gave an impish smirk. "Flowers? For me?"

Danny rolled his eyes, "yes, I have flowers. For you." Danny grabbed the second bouquet. Just like the first it was a little broken and witling with flower petals missing. Frost was starting to almost grow on it like moss. But still reasonably together.

Jack in turn rose both eyebrows.

Danny then suddenly realized that Jack Frost might not entirely realize what the flowers were for, and saying; 'These were for your dead body, I swear!' did not sound like the best thing to say at the time.

So instead, Danny figured that it would be best to say nothing of the matter and clumsily gave the mismatched flowers to Jack.

Jack Frost glanced at the flowers then back to Danny, amused, "Isn't this the part where I take you home or something?"

Danny nearly melted in relief, "Oh my god please do," Danny paused, "Like, you don't have to. But it would really make my day."

Jack Frost shrugged, "Sure man," Jack could literally go from Russia to South America to Australia in the matter of minutes thanks to the wind. Wherever Danny needed to go would be no problem. Especially since It looked like the guy walked here, he couldn't have been more than a few miles out tops.

Jack went to go get his staff, "You're going to have to hold my staff and flowers though."

"Fair enough." Danny got his bag, placed the flowers back inside and took the staff from Jack's hands. Danny then looked questionably at the staff. "Why do we want to carry a big stick with us?"

"Ok, first of all, It's not a stick. It's a staff. Second, it conducts my 'frosty abilities' or whatever. So, I need it. Third, I'm in physical pain when it's broken and stuff so break it and I'll drop you."

Jack Frost didn't really mean the threat, but the other teen seemed too relaxed about the idea of plummeting hundreds of feet in the air.

Danny nodded, as if it was remotely reasonable. "fair enough."

Jack Frost paused and stared at Danny. He considered telling Danny that it was a joke but decided against it. "... well alright then." Once more Jack picked Danny up from the ground carrying him bridal style, "Where do you want to be dropped off?"

"Amity Park, Illinois." Danny said this as if he was giving directions to the closest gas station.

Jack stared blankly at Danny. "You do realize that we're in Pennsylvania, right?"

"I'm aware." Danny said.

Jack Frost nearly dropped Danny to pull at his hair. "How- How did you even get here?!"

Finally, the other dark-haired boy was starting to show some discomfort. "I… walked. And hitchhiked! Yeah, um, there was totally some hitchhiking involved."

Jack narrowed his brows, "You know, it would've been almost more believable if you said you were left behind in a camping trip."

"Did you not see me walk to this lake huffing and puffing like I've been walking for days?" Danny challenged, now steeling his voice to sound more sure.

"How old are you-"

"I'm sixteen, a year younger than before you died, I wanna go home, and if necessary I'll walk there myself, so help me god."

Jack Frost started drifting from the ground thanks to the wind's help because the last thing Jack wanted was Danny roaming the highways by himself.

This… was going to be quite a flight.