Vlad Masters admits Danny is better than him and gives up his Maddie obsession in the same day.
Holding On and Letting Go-DP
"…And it doesn't bother you?" Vlad asked. "Not a bit?"
Danny doesn't meet his eyes, too busy trying to straighten his tie in the mirror, but his voice is honest when he speaks. "Of course it bothers me, you frootloop," he answers, and Vlad can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "But like. You know. I'll get over it."
He says it like it's common sense, like any other outcome is unthinkable. The sky is blue; the sun is bright; and Danny will forgive and forget. It's baffling.
"But you love her," Vlad says.
(Or: it's Sam and Tucker's wedding day. But Danny's not bitter. Why? —Well. That's the one thing Vlad doesn't understand.)
—
Holding On and Letting Go
—
"…And it doesn't bother you?" Vlad asked. "Not a bit?"
Danny doesn't meet his eyes, too busy trying to straighten his tie in the mirror, but his voice is honest when he speaks. "Of course it bothers me, you frootloop," he answers, and Vlad can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "But like. You know. I'll get over it."
He says it like it's common sense, like any other outcome is unthinkable. The sky is blue; the sun is bright; and Danny will forgive and forget.
It's baffling.
"But you love her," Vlad says.
In the mirror, Danny's eyes flicker to meet Vlad's. He looks so much older, now, so much wiser than a fresh college graduate should be. He's got deep set eyes that've witnessed the world, and broad shoulders that continue, even now, to carry it.
"And?" Danny asks.
And? Vlad flounders. Isn't 'love' answer enough? "You—you love her, and—" he answers, struggling suddenly. He clings to the cane he's earned in his old age, to try and ground himself. "—and he took her from you—"
A snort. Danny's eyes flicker back down to his tie.
"Sam wasn't mine to take," Danny reminds him.
"She's your ex girlfriend. Your childhood sweetheart—"
"And he's my best friend," Danny says. "And I love him, too."
Something in Vlad strikes like a chord, resonating through his bones. He falls silent.
Danny shimmies the knot in his tie up to his neck, then steps back to inspect his handiwork. Despite his laborious efforts - a five minute struggle in the mirror - the tie is still, lamentably, crooked.
"…Goddamn it." The younger halfa mutters, and yanks the Windsor out.
There's something strangely poetic about this; about smoothing out wrinkles and tying up knots, about trying, failing, to hide all signs of frustrations away, to match with polite society—but the only irony that really gets through Vlad's skin, right now, is how this kid, who's wise beyond his years, wiser than Vlad twenty five years his senior, still somehow doesn't know how to tie a goddamn tie.
A sigh. "Come here," Vlad orders, beckoning.
Danny's head snaps up, distrust in his ice blue eyes. But after a minute of readjusting the lengths of the ends around the curve his neck, he relents, and pads his way over.
Vlad takes the long slip of silk in his hands, running his fingertips over smooth navy fabric. The tie is like a snake, coiling around his palms.
"It's going to be uncomfortable," Vlad warns, threading the narrow end under Danny's collar. "Painful, even."
"I know," Danny's mouth twists, unpleasant. "Ties are the worst."
"I'm not talking about the tie, Daniel," Vlad says.
The unpleasant twist to Danny's mouth stays in place. He doesn't deny Vlad's claim.
"You're going to stand there, and watch her walk down the aisle," he says, carefully measuring out the ends of the tie. "Skin glowing, dress radiant, clutching a bouquet of flowers—"
"Lilacs," Danny whispers. "White and purple. She grew them herself."
The wistful note in his voice confirms Vlad's theory; that below his calm, measured exterior, the boy is still aching with unrequited love.
"—And she'll walk to the altar," Vlad says, crossing the ends, making the first tuck and fold of a proper Windsor knot. "And she'll turn to face him. And just like that—she'll be gone."
A pang of sorrow crosses Danny's face, for a second. Then a smile replaces it.
"No she won't," Danny laughs. "I'll see her at the reception."
Annoyed, Vlad lets out a growl. "You know what I mean, Daniel," he starts, frustrated.
"I do." Danny replies.
Vlad stops, blinking at him.
"But you're not hearing me," Danny says, hands patiently settling over Vlad's — or perhaps just preemptively assuring that the senior won't try to strangle him with said tie. Either way.
"Listen. Just because she loves Tucker now—" those fingers flex, tighten imperceptibly around Vlad's wrists, before going slack. "—That doesn't mean I'm gonna let it ruin things between us. Any of us. I mean, you know, if he makes her happy…" Danny pauses, distant, then nods, more to himself than to Vlad. "Yeah. It's alright. It's going to be alright."
A fresh wave of emotion washes over Vlad, rising like the tide. Something overwhelming; a hurt he doesn't understand.
There's a lot he could say, here. Dredge up old arguments, make his own case. Turn and storm out of the room.
Instead, Vlad asks, "…Why?"
Danny blinks. "Why what?"
"Why do you love him?" Vlad clarifies. "Them? Didn't they betray you? I know they're responsible for your death, Daniel, don't deny it. The Portal—they were both there, that day."
A quiet settles between them.
"Yeah, Vlad," Danny says, voice unreadable. "They were both there that day." He looks up, meeting Vlad's eyes. "And they've never stopped being there for me. Mostly, you know…" a small, quirked smile. "…Because I didn't push them away."
The tie is slack in Vlad's hands.
"I mean, you don't think I was angry?" Danny asks, scowling. His eyes shine green. "You don't think it hurt? It did, Vlad, the whole situation stings more than just a little." There's a bitter edge to his voice. "I died. I'm a freak. I'm 24 with no job and no girlfriend with more scars than I can count. All from one mistake, one tiny button switch—god, I could've been normal."
Danny draws in a shaky breath, then lets it out slow.
"But when I stumbled out of the Portal, they were right there to catch me. They've been with me, every step of the way." Another deep breath; Danny firms his jaw. "Every fight and every test, Every mistake, they've been there through it all. And you know what, Vlad? Bad things happen, sometimes. But Good things happen, too. I've got ten years worth of knick knacks and ticket stubs and polaroids at home—ten years of memories under my belt. Maybe it didn't turn out like I expected, but—you really think I'd go back and change that? Spend the best years of my life dwelling on my anger and regret?"
Vlad keeps his gaze trained on Danny's eyes. Watches as green softens into blue.
"No. I made my choice, Vlad. I wanted to hold on to what mattered most; so I let go of the rest." His voice sounds kind. "Maybe it's time you did, too."
Vlad stands there, stock still, for a long, long moment.
Then he finishes the knot, his motions slow and deliberate as he tucks the last fold into place.
"You're a better man than me, Daniel," he admits, gently sliding the knot of the tie up, flush with Danny's collar. "A better man indeed." Then, because habit and rivalry won't let him let go, he brushes dust off Danny's shoulder and dryly adds, "Even if a man your age should know, by now, how to tie one of these."
Danny barks out a laugh, fingers tugging at the necktie. Vlad steps away.
"Come on," Danny beckons, nodding to the door. "We better get in there. Don't want to be late—"
The door chooses that moment to burst open, and the groom tumbles in, nervous and sweating and frantic. Tucker swings around, eyes sweeping the room, until his gaze lands squarely on the halfas.
"Danny!" Tucker shouts, bursting at the seams. His eyes are wide and wild. "There you are! Y'gotta help me here, man, please, I'm freaking out—"
"Whoa! Easy there, Tuck, deep breaths…" Danny is at his side in a minute, hand on the small of his back.
"Deep bre—deep breaths? Danny if I take one more 'deep breath' I think I'm gonna pass out—"
Vlad scans the tech genius head-to-toe, taking in the crumpled tux and the beads of sweat on his brow. Wordlessly he hands Danny the red handkerchief from his suit pocket.
"Aw," Danny teases, dabbing Tucker's forehead with the cloth. "Sam's gonna look like a Goth goddess and you're gonna look like a wreck."
"This is serious, Danny! I'm getting married in less than 10 minutes! Oh god—ten minutes. Married, Danny! This is actually happening! How are you so calm?"
Danny's eyes flicker to Vlad, then back again, giving Tucker nothing but his most winning smile.
"Well," he points out, sensibly. "It's not my wedding."
Quietly, Vlad steps away, abandoning Danny to do what he does best: save the day. He steps out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind him.
The hallway is bustling, full of makeup artists and wedding photographers, decorators and bridesmaids. Vlad thinks he hears Pamela snapping orders at someone down the hall, and wisely steers away, towards the chapel.
The grand room is swathed in black, white, and purple, guests of all sorts in pews or swarming the aisle. From the entrance, Vlad can see Jack and Maddie in the first rows, the ones reserved for close friends and family. Madeline looks radiant in her elegant teal and black dress, squinting at (but respectfully not attacking) the more ghostly of the invitees.
Vlad's assigned seat, according to the placards, is nowhere near them, but that oversight could be easily fixed with the twitch of telekinetic fingers.
He raises his hand, and—
You really think I'd go back and change that? Spend the best years of my life dwelling on my anger and regret?"
—Lowers it, slowly, deliberately, and tucks it into his pocket.
"Masters," a voice comes from behind. It sounds dry. "Causing trouble already?"
Vlad turns to find Miss Manson - soon to be Manson-Foley - perched behind him, hands on her hips. Her black wedding dress spills out across the floor, the train trailing behind her like a dark ocean.
"Samantha," Vlad acknowledges with the tip of his head. "Shouldn't you be waiting in the Bridal Suite? Your groom might see you before the wedding, otherwise. It's hardly traditional."
Sam scoffs. "Traditional," she rolls her eyes. "You sound like my mother. Whom, if you haven't noticed, is terrorizing the staff. Someone's gotta save them."
Vlad can see the influence here; the sharp flash of intelligence in her eyes, the stubbornness, the heroism - he hears the echoes of those qualities whenever he speaks to Danny. She's changed him, Vlad realizes. She'll haunt him. Vlad doesn't understand how Daniel could ever let her go.
"Are you happy?" Vlad asks, settling a disdainful eye on her. "With the man you picked? Just the two of you, living your life together in perfect wedded bliss?"
Sam pins him with a purple frown, one eyebrow raised. He thinks, for a moment, that she's going to tell him off, to have the staff usher him out and ban him from the ceremony.
"Not that it's any of your business, Vlad," Sam says instead, smoothing her hands down her dress. "But we're not going anywhere without Danny."
Vlad goes still. Fingers tightening around the cane. And all at once he wonders if there's something else here, something he couldn't see lurking below the surface. A different path forward.
An option he could have had, once, that he'd simply overlooked.
Behind them, a voice calls. "Sam?"
They turn to see two men in the hallway. Tucker, noticeably calmer and unruffled, and Danny, steering him forward, halted as they turned the corner. They both stare at the picture she makes in her dark wedding dress. One pair of eyes looks lovestruck; the other, wistful.
Tucker takes a step forward. "You look beautiful," he starts, leaning in.
Sam, from nowhere, produces a purple-lace fan and snaps it open between their faces. "Save it for the altar, Tuck," she warns, a smile creeping on her face. "Mom will kill me if I smudge my makeup."
Vlad's eyes flicker to Danny. There's sadness, there, in his eyes, something unsettled in the set of his shoulders.
But his smile looks genuine; his face is fond.
Vlad still doesn't understand it, not exactly. Maybe he never will.
"Oh, and to answer your question, Vlad," Sam turns and pokes him in the chest with the fan. "Yes. I am happy. Question is, are you?"
Vlad's eyes flicker to the chapel, to two old friends waiting in the pews.
He doesn't answer, but that in itself is answer enough. Sam snaps the fan open again.
"Never too late to change," she tells him. "Now—get to your seat, shoo." A pause, and she adds, "—And I mean your actual seat, got it? I better not see you messing with my wedding, especially the seating arrangements. We worked crazy hard on those."
Ah. So she did catch him, earlier.
"Yeah," Tucker agrees with a mutter, as Vlad scampers off, chagrined. "Who knew a wedding party with a mix of Jewish and Christian and Atheist and ghostly and ghost hunter guests would be so damn hard to optimize."
"We make it work. We always do," he hears Danny say, as Vlad leaves them behind.
Grudgingly, Vlad makes his way to his assigned seat, grumbling all the while. He's not looking forward to it, but he admits he's been outmaneuvered. He could probably still pull it off—Vlad is nothing if not skilled at finding ways to cheat the system—but he is just so, so tired.
Probably best to regroup for now. Pray his seat partners aren't too annoying, sit through the wedding that will no doubt be painful, and redouble his efforts when time comes for the reception—
"Vlad?"
With a start, Vlad finds himself blinking down at a familiar face—Harriet Chin, Maddie's college roommate—in the seat next to Vlad's placard.
"Goodness, I haven't seen you since, what? The reunion, I think," she smiles at him, her green eyes delighted. "It's been too long!"
"Harry?" Vlad asks, a bit thrown. "What are you doing here?" As far as he knows, neither Foley nor Manson have close ties with the reporter from his youth.
"Jack invited me," Harriet responds, almost flippantly. "He insisted I come. I thought I wouldn't know anyone else here, so—this is a relief, really! How have you been?"
Oh, curses, Vlad thinks. He doesn't know who's responsible, Jack—with his underhanded cunning nature—or Danny's friends and their pesky seating chart; but Vlad senses, very distinctly, that he's been set up.
But then—
He steals one last look towards the front. There, Maddie sits, a glowing mirage, laughing at something Jack says, and the pang of jealousy, of loneliness, of wanting—the chokehold his emotions have on his heart—
Vlad takes a deep breath, then sits next to Harriet, finding a new way forward.
"I've been well, I think, thank you," Vlad says, turning her direction. "How about you?"
—He still doesn't understand Daniel. Not one bit.
"I'm great! I've been working for the AP Inquirer—we've been working on articles about ghosts outside of Amity Park. Oh wait, that's right, your home was haunted—the ghost of the Dairy King, wasn't it?"
But the brat's given him a lot of chances to change; more than he really deserves.
"Yes, that's correct."
"After the reception, would you be willing to give an interview?"
And a new path, it seems, is unfolding before him. So Vlad thinks…
Just this once…
"Sure."
He might be willing to let it go.
—