As promised, this chapter has characters from "Danny Phantom." It also has a nice flashback/dream sequence to help bring everyone up to speed. I hope you'll enjoy.

Based upon studies from the readings gathered through the stable artificial portal, the "Ghost Zone" is composed of ectoplasm and inhabited by entities similarly composed of the substance. Ectoplasm mimics more traditional molecular structures, but tests have proven it to be not composed of any recognizable atoms or atomic particles. Ectoplasm is essentially not matter in the conventional sense. Relatively speaking, the structures and forms created by ectoplasm are stable while remaining malleable.

The ability for the ectoplasm to mimic and interact with objects from the real world is imperfect (i.e. "phasing" through solid objects), but it is effective enough to allow entities from the "Ghost Zone" to exist outside it. The ability for ghosts to enter the real world, be seen by humans, and affect it without being destroyed is due to the relative stability of the ectoplasm they are composed of. Destabilization of the ectoplasm takes extreme measures in most case and will eventually lead to complete collapse of the structure.

The effect of ectoplasm being combined with real world matter beyond basic interactions will require further testing. Long-term effect of ectoplasm on living organism is also unknown currently.

-Excerpt from "Initial Studies of the 'Ghost Zone' Through an Artificial Ghost Portal" by Madeline Fenton

While the accident that gave him powers made his life more complicated, Danny wouldn't give them up for the world. All the fights, the lies, and the numerous times he was forced to listen to his parents discuss their desire to destroy ghosts for science… Being able to fly made it all worth it.

There was just something about the freedom and sensation of it, being able to float or race through the air without any outside help. Gravity still existed, gently tugging at him enough to ensure he could still recognize the difference between up and down. And he knew that if he lost his concentration or was knocked out the sky, he could be sent tumbling wildly or dropping like a stone. His exact fate depended solely on how badly his flight was disrupted. But for the most part, flying was easy and far too enjoyable to imagine going back to the days where he was stuck on the ground.

He flew over his hometown, watching the population go through their nightly routines while keeping on alert for other ghosts. Screams and panic were usually a reliable signal, just like his Ghost Sense. Tonight, however, everything seemed peaceful and calm. From the quiet rumble of the cars below to the pale moonlight shining from the dark sky, nothing was out of place and everything was right with the world.

A terrified shriek shattered the mood. Somehow Danny wasn't surprised that his flight was interrupted. It was just his luck. The white-haired halfa rolled his eyes briefly before diving towards the noise.

As he neared his apparent destination, an alleyway tucked behind a clothing store, the chill of his Ghost Sense struck and a horrified young man in a uniform ran past. His suspicions were quickly confirmed as he spotted a dumpster filled with junk from the store. Specifically, it was full of boxes that were used to ship the clothing to the location.

Groaning in annoyance, Danny said, "Really? Do you have to cause trouble tonight? I swear I'm going to beat your face in, Box Ghost."

"Beware!" the blue-skinned longshoreman ghost yelled, poking his head out of the box-filled dumpster.

"Stop saying that. No one is scared of you," he complained. "Except for that poor retail sales guy taking out the recyclables."

"I didn't mean beware of me," said the Box Ghost, "though I am clearly a terrible and horrifying threat to all who underestimate the power of cardboard containers. I mean beware of him."

Raising an eyebrow at the nervous specter that wasn't bothering to attack yet, Danny asked, "What in the world are you talking about? Beware of who?"

"Him."

"That's not really helping any. Can we try something useful? Like a name for the guy?"

"No," he yelped, bursting out of the dumpster and grabbing the front of Danny's jumpsuit. "No names. You can't use it or he'll get here faster. And no one wants that."

Trying to wrestle the ghost off of him, he said, "Fine, no names. Just get off me."

"He's coming. He's powerful and he's really mad," the Box Ghost continued frantically. "The stories about him… Nope, not going to mess with him. Can't I just hide here until he goes back to the Netherworld?"

"Why is he coming? What's going on?" asked Danny, finally prying him off.

Staring at the halfa with an anxious expression on his face, he said, "The rumors are flying around the Ghost Zone. He left the Netherworld, coming out to our territory, because of her. He's looking for his missing Mortal Bride and he won't stop until he finds her. And if his reputation is right, no one should get in his way."

Questions kept spinning through his mind. He wasn't exactly following everything the Box Ghost was talking about, but he was trying to understand. It was rare that he got much direct useful information about the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants before they tried to kill him. Most of his enemies were more likely to bluster and threaten than share stories and rumors, so Danny tried to pay attention when he managed to hear something relevant to the place. But what he was hearing was pretty vague. Mostly it sounded like something scary was coming for someone. Beyond that, it was essentially gibberish to him.

"You're not going to let me stay, are you?" remarked the Box Ghost, a look of realization spreading across the ghost's face.

They reacted at the exact same moment. The collection of cardboard boxes flew out of the dumpster at the same instant that Danny pulled out the Fenton Thermos. A combination of luck and reflexes honed over numerous fights meant Danny somehow managed to catch the ghost and turn intangible just in time to avoid the hit.

"Somehow I have a feeling this is going to come back to haunt me," muttered Danny. Then he rolled his eyes, "Pun not intended."

With his newly trapped passenger stored away, he continued his flight around the city. But his peaceful mood was gone, his thoughts turning over the strange conversation multiple times. The only good thing was that the nervous Box Ghost was the only disturbance that evening. No other scared ghosts trying to hide out. And no sign of the mysterious him. He finished his usual rounds easily and headed home.

The white-haired halfa crept through his window silently, unsurprised that his sister was already sitting there reading a book and waiting for him. Jazz was still new in regards to helping out directly, but she'd known his secret for a long time. Perhaps not as long as Sam and Tucker, who were present at the exact moment to witness the portal activated and his DNA soaked in ectoplasm, but she'd known for longer than he'd ever expected. Since he learned that she knew the truth, she sometimes waited for him to come home. Her explanation was that she was making sure that their parents didn't notice he wasn't there, but Danny suspected that she worried sometimes and wanted to make sure he got back safely.

"Mom and Dad are working in the lab, so I'd wait about tossing any ghosts back in until morning," she said. "Busy night?"

"Not exactly. It was just the Box Ghost," he said, holding up the thermos. "But he was freaking out about someone coming?"

"Who?"

"No idea. Wouldn't give me a name," shrugged Danny. "In fact, the Box Ghost seemed scared to use his name. A lot of things he said didn't make sense, but apparently this guy is looking for his 'missing Mortal Bride' and is really powerful."

"His 'Mortal Bride'?"

"His words, not mine."

Jazz frowned thoughtfully. She was clearly going over the scarce information, but he doubted the red-haired sixteen year old would be able to figure out any more than her brother. She might be smart, but there just wasn't a lot to work with.

"Should we be worried?" she asked.

"On the one hand, it's the Box Ghost. He isn't exactly the most reliable in regards to what actually counts as dangerous. On the other, he really seemed scared. Apparently the rumors about this guy are pretty impressive. I think we should be careful just in case. And we'll need to figure out who or what the 'Mortal Bride' is," said Danny.

Jazz nodded and headed towards the door, "Sounds like a plan. Try to get some rest and talk to Sam and Tucker about it in the morning."

Her brother nodded and shifted out of his ghost form. Rings of energy shifted along his body, forcing the ectoplasm in his body to go dormant. The jumpsuit vanished while his normal jeans and t-shirt returned. The green glow of his eyes faded away until their usual blue shade appeared. The snow-white hair darkened back to black. All the various changes took only a couple of seconds, leaving him mostly human again.

He wasn't, however, completely human even when he looked it. Danny knew and accepted that fact. His eyes could still glow and he could occasionally phase through solid objects without transforming. He wasn't normal anymore. He would always be a little ghost-like. He accepted it. His friends accepted it. His sister accepted it. And even if he reversed everything with the Reality Gauntlet just to make sure things were safe and to avoid the true fallout of the news, Danny was fairly certain that his parents would be able to accept it. He just wasn't ready for everyone to know.

"Night, Danny," she said, closing the door behind her.

He smiled, "Night, Jazz."

Lydia knew she was dreaming, that she was only seeing an old memory. But she was willing to let events play out. At least in her dreams she could see familiar and friendly faces and pretend everything was as it should be.

She was poking around her closet, trying to find her black shirt with the lacy, oversized sleeves. She knew it was in there. And she was determined to find it. She didn't have anything better to do anyway.

At the moment, she was alone in the house. Dad and Delia were in town. He was picking up a new bird-watching book and Delia was picking up a shipment of art supplies. And the Maitlands were gone because apparently their caseworker, Juno, wanted to do a follow-up on "the incident." It was rare that she was completely alone nowadays. She did smile wryly about the fact she was using the unusual solitude merely as the opportunity to mess around with her wardrobe rather than anything special.

Her wry smile evaporated as her questing fingertips brushed against something in the back of the closet, something that rustled in a way that she recognized. Lydia fought the urge to yank her hand back as if it burned. She forced herself to remain still. It was a dress, a stupid dress. She refused to be scared of a dress.

Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She refused to be afraid of it and everything connected to that dress. Not allowing herself time to think, she grabbed it and yanked the thing out of her closet. Then, with a little more care, she draped it across her bed.

The dress was exactly as she remembered from the interrupted wedding. An intense shade of red and swimming in tulle fabric, it was certainly not what she pictured when it came to normal wedding dresses. And it was certainly nothing she would choose for herself for a theoretical marriage. It was what he chose. She probably should have thrown it away or burned it that night, but she didn't want to deal with it. She hid it in the closet to ignore and forget what nearly happened.

"I got to admit, Babes, it was a good color on you."

She spun around with a sharp shriek, the name already on the tip of her tongue. She would remember that gravely, rough, creepy voice regardless of how much time might pass. But he couldn't be back. She didn't say it. He couldn't be back. And yet she heard it. She heard his voice, so she prepared to banish him again if necessary.

Then she caught a glimpse of color where it shouldn't be and her voice died away in stunned horror. Her mirror was positioned to reflect most of the room, but now there was something else in the reflection. There was someone leering out at her from behind the glass.

It was the face that appeared occasionally in her nightmares and Delia's sculptures. Pale skin with dark circles around his eyes, wild blond hair stained faintly green, and mold growing on his face, he looked like something that crawled out of a grave. Of course, there was certainly a good reason for that since the owner of that face was long dead. He was still wearing his maroon tuxedo, the one that looked like a particularly out-dated prom tux rented at the last minute, that he wore that night. He was now a little coated in sand and the clothes were a little more ragged, but that was to be expected after he was eaten by a giant monstrous sandworm.

Everything about him was easily recognizable and, thankfully, on the other side of the reflection rather than in her room. Unfortunately, he was still far too close for her comfort.

"Get out of here," she said as firmly as possible. "You can't be here. I didn't call you. No one said your name."

"I know no one said it. That's why I've spent a few months in a waiting room waiting for them to call a number longer than the Great Wall of China. Do you know how hard it was to unshrink my head?" he shouted. "I finally got bored with waiting for Juno to yell at me for the millionth time, so here I am." Then in a quieter and meant-to-be charming voice, he said, "So what do you say, my blushing bride? Ready to finish what we started before we were interrupted?"

His supposedly winning smile was met with a look of disgust. She wouldn't let him intimidate her. Lydia wasn't backed into a corner and desperate this time. She didn't have to do anything for the ghost in the mirror.

"Not a chance," she said.

"We had a deal," he growled. "Remember? Save the two blockheads from certain doom and you'd marry me. I held up my end of things, right? The annoying couple upstairs wasn't exorcised." He slammed his hand against the glass hard enough for it to rattle, making her jump. "Don't you dare back out. Don't you even think about it. You already tried cheating your way out of it once."

"I didn't do anything," she shouted, refusing to be intimidated by someone trapped on the other side. "You didn't give me the chance. You tossed me in that tacky dress, borrowed my voice, and dragged me around. Barbara and Adam are the ones who tried to stop the wedding. And you kept trying to get rid of them the whole time, which kind of cancels out the 'saving them' thing."

"Hey, it is easier to survive being shrunk down on a model or taking a trip to Saturn than it is ending up in the Lost Souls Room. They would've been fine. I just wanted them out of the way until we were done. That was no excuse to feed me to a sandworm. Do you have any idea how much that stings? Honestly, that's cruel and unusual punishment. And just because they messed up the ceremony doesn't mean you should turn on me. You agreed, Babes."

"Only because I didn't have any other choice."

"Not my fault you were desperate and easy."

"Trust me, I wouldn't have given you the time of day if you weren't my only chance to save them. You're the creep who almost killed my dad."

He blinked briefly, a mildly confused look flashing across his face, "When did I do that?"

"When you turned into a giant snake and dropped him off the stairs. He could have broken his neck," she yelled.

"Please," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm a professional. Scaring the living to the point of insanity is always more effective than killing them off. Otherwise, not only will Juno and her bosses come down on me like a ton of bricks, but the poor saps who keel over could come back as ghosts themselves and start nagging me. Honestly, it isn't worth the headaches. I'll add exterminations to the sales pitch, but that's just advertisement. Some clients just won't say 'yes' unless they think I'm a full service bio-exorcist. Chuck might've been freaked out, a little battered, but certainly in no danger of joining the deceased."

"Glad to hear you have a few lines you don't cross, even if you don't do it out of practicality instead of the kindness of your shriveled little heart," she snapped. "Now get out of here before I figure out a way to drown you in soapy water, stuff you in that poofy dress you threw on me, and bury you six feet under again."

"Don't be like that, Babes. You just aren't looking on the bright side of this marriage. You get me," said the ghost, gesturing to himself with a smirk. "And I get out. Everyone wins."

"Drop dead."

"Too late."

No matter how much she wanted him gone, Lydia felt the corners of her mouth twitch in response. She knew she'd walked right into that one. But she couldn't let him know that she was briefly amused by what he said. He'd probably take it as encouragement.

"You have a bit more spirit in you now than before," he continued. "Still a little dark, but definitely more fun and less broody. Nice to see you coming out of your gloomy shell. I knew there was something special about you, Babes. There was something about you that I couldn't ignore. I knew you'd get me."

"If by 'get' you, you mean I know you're a disgusting, self-centered, con-artist who loves messing with the living, doesn't really care about anyone else, and hates any kind of limitations, then yes," she said sharply, arms stiff at her side. "I 'get' you."

"See? It's like you can read my mind, isn't it?" smirked the ghost. "We'll be great together. Though I think you should know I am planning to have what they refer to as an 'open marriage.' I don't want anything to cramp my style and that includes a wife."

"Even if I was crazy enough to let you out and continue that wedding, I wouldn't let my husband sneak around on me with other girls. I deserve more respect than that. It took me a while to get people to listen and pay attention to me. I'm not letting that happen again, even in your crazy wedding fantasies."

She snapped her mouth closed. Lydia said more than she intended to, hinting at her past troubles with her parents. Things were better now. Dad and Delia didn't always put their work first. They didn't always laugh off or ignore what she told them. They listened to her opinions now. Apparently it took plunging her family into the paranormal and almost getting married off to a creepy dead guy to do it, but things were better now with her family. But she still remembered how it used to be just a few months ago.

She didn't mean to say it. She didn't mean to spill even a hint of personal information to the ghost in the mirror. But even if she wanted the creep gone, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Or yell at. It was probably because she didn't care what he thought and because he seemed to be equally blunt whenever he wasn't trying to sweet talk someone.

"Come on, Babes," he urged. "Don't be like that. I'm not leaving until you keep up your end of the bargain. It'll just be easier to do what you promised. Just say my name and we can get the show on the road."

"No," she shouted, turning her back on the mirror. "Besides, not only is it creepy, but it's illegal."

"Not if the minister doesn't add the 'until death do you part' section."

"I mean, I can't get married without my Dad's permission. It isn't legal for me to do it otherwise. It is barely legal even with his permission."

"What happened to all that feminist 'I'm not property and the men in my life don't make the decisions for me' stuff that was going around? I thought women were doing whatever or whoever they want now. Are you really going to let the 'men folk' arrange your life and barter for your hand in marriage while you keep your mouth shut? At least one of us is supposed to be from this century," he taunted.

Frustrated, Lydia spun back around and snapped, "Yeah and in this century people don't marry children, jerk."

She was ready for whatever he might say in response. Whether further taunting, pleading to be released into the land of the living, or further screams that she had to keep her promise, she was ready to face them. Anything he could throw at her, Lydia could take it. He was just a frustrated, trapped ghost who couldn't harm her as long as she didn't use his name. All he could use against her was his words and she could survive them. She was ready for whatever the ghost might say.

But he didn't say anything. The sound of her shout died away, leaving only silence. There was a new expression on the ghost's face. One that she didn't understand and couldn't decipher as she stared at him. He looked confused. Bewildered. Taken back and completely uncertain about something.

"What?" he asked, his voice quieter than she ever remembered hearing it.

"What do you mean 'what'?" she said slowly, nervous about the change.

Frowning while his eyes shifted thoughtfully, he didn't immediately respond. Then there was something, a look of what almost appeared to be dawning horror.

"Babes, exactly… how old are you?"

Now Lydia found herself frowning. Didn't he know? Or couldn't he at least guess? She knew she'd hit puberty a little sooner than some of her classmates, but she didn't look that much older than most of them. She figured he knew sort of how old she was when he asked her. She figured he just didn't care, that a living female was a living female and he'd take any that might be available.

His expression and reactions at the moment, however, suggested that maybe he didn't know. He might not have known exactly how creepy the wedding was. Of course, he had to know that it was a little creepy, but he might have honestly not known her age.

She knew she should answer the question, but she found herself saying something completely different.

"How old were girls getting married when you died?"

There was a slight grimace from the ghost, "That would have been around 1352, so some tended to marry the girls off as soon as they could start having kids practically. Especially the rich ones who were handed over as soon as possible for alliances and heirs. Never thought it was smart, but I never had to deal with them. Those with less money, titles, and nobility tended to wait until around nineteen or a little older. That was a long time ago. I tend to pay a little more attention to modern standards than the one of the past."

He was over six hundred years old. Lydia couldn't help being impressed. He wandered around in a suit and talking like he was from current times. She would have expected a lot more "thee" and "thou" type of conversations from a ghost from that time period. He apparently adapted to the changing times quite effectively.

"How old are you?" he repeated.

For some reason, she didn't want to tell him. She didn't want him to know. But she could see something that resembled regret in his expression and Lydia realized that he had figured it out. And, as surprising as it was for her to imagine, he actually seemed upset by the idea.

Reluctantly, she answered, "Twelve. I'll be thirteen in about a month, but I'm twelve."

He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. She thought she spotted a small roach scurry across his sleeve, but she ignored it. After all the time and energy she spent hating him and dreading the idea of his reappearance, she actually felt bad at the moment for him. He truly and honestly didn't know that he was about to force a child to marry him.

"I just wanted out," he muttered. "But I didn't want that. I'm no saint, but I'm not that bad. There's some lines still… I won't…"

He let his hand drop. She could see him backing away from the mirror, disappearing to wherever he truly was. Lydia found herself taking a step towards it.

"You didn't know."

Even though she didn't intend it as a question, he seemed to treat it as such. His eyes popped open and he stared at her in something that might be horror, might be guilt, and might also be regret.

"No. I wouldn't have asked if I did. Did you really think at the time… Of course, you did. I asked you to. You probably assumed I knew what I was doing. No wonder your folks and the Maitlands freaked out. I mean, they wouldn't be happy about it anyway, but… No, I figured you were older than that. I haven't tried guessing the age of the living in a few centuries and apparently I'm horribly out of practice." His gaze dropped as he said, "My reputation might not be the best, but I never intended to…"

"I believe you," she said quietly.

Pulling further away from the glass of the mirror, he said, "Don't worry about the deal. That's over. You deserve it. I better go back so Juno can start yelling properly."

She saw him disappearing from the reflection. Lydia knew that she was about to be free of his presence. She could also tell, deep down, that he would never bother her again. He would never come near her family and they could all move on with their lives (or afterlives in the case of the Maitlands). It should have been a weight off her mind.

But just as he said there was something special about her that caught his attention, there was something about the ghost that she couldn't just let vanish. The horrible traits that disgusted and freaked everyone out were still there, but Lydia could almost see something else buried underneath. If there wasn't more to him than what was on the mold-covered surface, then she wouldn't have seen that look of guilt and regret over what he'd almost done. And while she doubted that he felt guilt very often in his existence, he definitely seemed to feel it in regards to her.

"Wait," she called out.

When that didn't work and he still disappeared from sight, insanity seemed to strike. She knew what she could be unleashing, but part of her wanted to try. Besides, he seemed off-balanced enough at the moment that she should be a little faster if necessary. Before common sense could intervene, his name was already on her tongue.

Lydia took a deep breath and said…

The annoying blaring of her alarm clock pulled her reluctantly out of slumber. Lydia practically ripped it off the side table in frustration. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

The girl who played Lydia in the movie was about seventeen at the time. But since she was referred to as "a little girl" at one point, it is pretty obvious that Lydia was meant to be younger than that in the film. The actress certainly looked young for her age anyway. One of the guesses about what her age is meant to be (though certainly not the only guess) is between twelve and fourteen. In order to have Lydia be the same age as Danny and his friends (fourteen) and still give her time to actually develop a friendship with Betelgeuse, I decided to aim for the lower end of range when it came to her age in the movie. Thus she was twelve in the flashback and fourteen during the main part of the story.

Also, Betelgeuse made a comment about living through the Black Death (and a bunch of other bragging that was clearly not true). So I decided to look up some stuff about that time period and the Black Death itself, just in case. It was definitely not a fun time.

The Black Death was a bubonic plague pandemic, which reached England in 1348, and killed perhaps half the population, dying down in 1349. By autumn 1348, the plague had reached London, and by summer 1349 it covered the entire country, before dying down by December. By the end of 1350, the Black Death subsided, but it never really died out in England. The English government handled the crisis well, and the country did not experience the extreme reactions that were seen elsewhere in Europe (like killing whole neighborhoods because of paranoia that they were the ones who caused it).

The term "Black Death" was not used of the first outbreak until the 17th Century. The term "Black Death" – which refers to the first and most serious outbreak of the Second Pandemic – was not used by contemporaries, who preferred such names as the "Great Pestilence" or the "Great Mortality."