Catalyst
Chapter 17: Home Again
Sam stood at the front door of her parents' house, her thumb hovering over the doorbell. Jazz had dropped her off a few minutes before after wishing her good luck. Not surprisingly, actually pushing the doorbell was more than a little scary for her, even though the setting sun meant that it was growing darker and colder by the moment. How would they react after not seeing her for months? Sam leaned forward furtively, listening for sounds from within, and could just hear faint conversation coming from the dining room.
Sam juggled Nathaniel from her right hip to the left, and let out a soft sigh. She should've fished her baby backpack out of her bag when she'd had the chance. But then, standing nervously outside her own front door hadn't technically been part of the plan. She let out another sigh after a moment, and finally mustered her courage. A soft ding dong chimed from inside the house as her thumb came down on the bell. Alright, too late to change your mind now…
After a moment the door opened, and her father stared owlishly out at her. "May I help you…"
"Dad." He stopped and stared. She smiled up at him timidly, brow furrowing as her eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. His eyes grew wide as saucers.
"Sweetheart!" He stepped forward after one stunned moment, hugging her to him with all the shocked relief and pain of losing and then finding a loved one. He turned almost immediately to yell out, his voice rough and excited. "Pamela! Mother! Come here! Sam's back! Sam's home!"
There was a mad rush from the dining room, and before long Sam was surrounded by her family. Her mother had pushed her father aside and was hugging her convulsively, patting and smoothing her hair repeatedly, then moving back to look at her, only to step forward for another embrace, all the while saying her name over and over, along with every loving endearment she'd ever used. And for once Sam didn't mind.
They were all crying. Her grandmother, who sat several feet away in her wheelchair, looked older than she could ever remember. There were two lines of tears running down her cheeks as she too mumbled her name in astonished relief.
After a few minutes they all calmed down a little, and at her father's suggestion they moved into the living room, dinner temporarily forgotten. Nathaniel was beginning to wake up from his nap as they sat down, and Sam, in typical motherly fashion, repositioned him a little so that he might stay asleep a little longer.
"Sammykins…is he yours?" The terrifying question came from her mother.
Sam bit her lip and looked down at her baby, all her fears of rejection and of being shamed by her parents rising up. She'd had a baby out of wedlock at age seventeen. How could they possibly be happy with that? Her voice was a whisper. "Yes. His name's Nathaniel."
Her mother's hand came up, and started stroking her daughter's hair again, rhythmically, like she had whenever Sam was little and feeling sad or had gotten a boo-boo. Sam's tears started afresh as all those times she'd wished she could've been home, safe, with her mother looking over her came back up in her mind. But she found she couldn't look up. She was too intensely ashamed, as though this situation was her fault, even though she knew it wasn't.
"You dyed your hair." Her mother's voice was lighter; she'd taken a moment to calm herself down. But the pain and worry was just underneath. She sniffled a little, and gave a watery smile.
Sam didn't really meet her eyes, and half smiled down at Nathaniel instead. "Yeah."
"It's pretty like this! And I've never seen you put it up like this before." It was in a low ponytail.
"It's fast." She found herself mimicking her mother, slowly stroking Nathaniel's tuft of hair. Her mom suddenly moved forward again, hugging her from the side.
"Sweetheart…" Her voice was soft and wobbly, weak from emotion, and she stayed like that for a long time. No one spoke. Then she pulled back, facing her as fully as she could on the couch. "Sweetheart, I want you to tell me what happen…"
"Pam, I think it's time for bed. We can talk about this in the morning." That was her dad, ever protective. Her mother looked at him from around Sam, eyes wide. They were sitting on either side.
"This is important, and it's only eight o'clock." Her voice was serious, and firm. She was worried sick, had been for the last nine months, and she needed a few answers.
"I just think Sam must be tired, and it might be better for all of us if we get some rest first, dear."
Sam spoke up, quietly in favor. "Yeah, I've been on the road for the last three days, and I'd love to get some real sleep, Mom."
"On the road? Where were you staying? How did you get back?" Her mother jumped in before her dad could say anything, but he seemed just as curious to know now that the questions were being asked.
Thankfully, these were easily answerable. "I was living in Idaho in an apartment. And…the Fentons and Tucker were on a road trip to Colorado, and they ran into me in the grocery store. They dropped everything and…drove me home." She paused. "It's kind of amazing they found me. Apparently Danny just really wanted to stop at the market I was in." She couldn't keep the tiny smile from her voice. After everything she'd been through, it was still incredibly heart warming to think that he'd been able to find her, somehow had sensed her, even across several states.
"Sweetheart," her mother's voice was soft, worried. "We've been so worried, and I need to know…"
"Honey…" Her dad cut in again, only to be but off by her mother.
"Dear." Her mother glared at him for a moment, wishing him into silence. Then she turned back to Sam. "I need to know why you went away, sweetheart. Is it because of the baby? Were you embarrassed? Sammykins…" She took both her hands in her own, her eyes searching her face, though Sam's own gaze remained glued on the top of Nathaniel's head. "Were you…," her voice wobbled, "sweetheart, w-who's the daddy?" Her mother gave a pathetic sniffle, and Sam fought hard against crying more herself.
Her voice came out in a whisper. "I don't want to talk about it." She bit her lip again, sniffling herself, and couldn't keep a little panic out of her voice as she stood up. "I'm really tired, Mom, I just…I'm really tired, I need sleep, okay?" She swallowed a few times, looking and feeling apologetic, and then turned back to the front door to get her stuff.
Her dad came around her and got it for her. "I'll take it up, sweetheart." She nodded silently, her gaze on his feet, and followed him slowly up the stairs. Her mother stayed at the foot of the stairs, nervous and uncertain. When Sam was at the top she called up to her.
"Do you need help with the baby?" She hurried up after her. "I can watch over him tonight, if you want, Samantha."
Sam turned half away, thinking fast. "N-no, that's okay. Besides, he's going to get hungry soon."
Her mother fretted a little, looking from her to the baby. "Oh, of…of course." She paused, looking down at her feet. "Well, if you need me in the night for anything…" She swallowed, then stepped forward to hug her again, tears suddenly streaming down her face all over again, her voice overwhelmed with emotion. "Samantha…I missed you so much, darling, my sweet little girl…sweetheart…I love you so much…" She pulled back, holding her face in both hands tenderly. "Don't ever forget that. Your father and I love you more than anything in the world no matter what." She moved one hand to the small of Sam's back, turned toward Sam's room, and gave her a lovely, if very damp, smile. "I'll help you get settled in."
Sam didn't protest; she couldn't. It felt like her throat had tightened to the point where speaking was impossible in any case. She looked around the room, at all the old familiar things, as her mother bustled around turning on lights and opening the windows to air the room out. They'd kept everything just the same, hadn't they? They'd even kept the space dust free for her, and left her "tasteless" Goth jewelry on her dresser, which had been the subject of so many arguments. The thought occurred to her that, even with some disagreements; okay, a lot of disagreements, when it came down to it she still had a really great family. She blinked a few time, getting rid of the sudden wetness at the edges of her eyes.
Sam looked down at Nathaniel, still feeling a little overwhelmed, and began stroking his fuzzy head again. After a moment a tiny smile began to softly light up her face. Things would never be the same, but she was definitely, finally, home.
Danny lay in bed, gaze turned toward his window. It was still dark out, with only the first hint of a sunrise on the horizon. He'd been awake for maybe an hour already, worrying dully about the impending conversation with his sister, the one she'd told him last night they'd be having today, "early." The pain in his mind welled up for a moment as he recalled that for one brief moment, just before she'd dropped in last night after returning from Idaho and had dragged him back into reality, he'd thought the last several days had been some incredibly bad nightmare…
If only.
Actually, he'd worked it out after waking up this morning, and even though it seemed as though he'd seen Clockwork only yesterday, it must've been longer. He'd taken about a day getting from Idaho to Clockwork's, after all, while Jazz and company must've taken three getting home, which meant that the Time Master had taken him forward at least two days in time. Either that, or he'd taken one ridiculously long nap before Clockwork dropped him off back home. Danny pursed his lips, and would've smirked if his life wasn't so screwed up at the moment. Definitely time travel, then.
Danny sighed softly to himself, his gaze shifting from the window to wander aimlessly around his room. His mind was incredibly muddled. He found it hard to concentrate on any specific event from the past several days. Instead, it had become a sort of nightmarish blur during which Bad Things had happened and would continue to wreak havoc with his life. But what those bad things were wasn't something his mind was allowing him to focus on. It was too much, too fast, and he wasn't capable of dealing with it all, at least not yet. He was still weighed down by the physical shock from the fight, his nerves raw, and his body was fatigued from his insane flight to Clockwork's from Idaho. Then there was the emotional pain. He felt damaged, as if the events of the last few days had left an aching pit in his chest, almost like a physical wound; one he couldn't see and didn't know how to fix. He could only hope it would heal in time, as other emotional wounds had.
But for now things weren't right inside. And Sam was close to the center of the pain. A dull ache would arise whenever he thought of her. Suddenly the person he'd been obsessed over for the past nine months had become forbidden territory, and it was pure torture. She'd been in his thoughts so much over those months that it wasn't something he could just stop doing at a moments notice. But now every thought of her brought such pain! He didn't know how he'd deal with her, how he could look at her, even speak to her as if nothing was wrong!
A terrible sense of shame was slowly growing in him, and she was in that feeling, somewhere close to the heart of it. Yet what had happened to Sam wasn't his fault, right? Danny closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to cover them for a moment. Then why the guilt? Why, after worrying and going half crazy looking for her for so long, did he have to find her like this? Was it really fair that he had to feel so damn guilty? And there were things…things Clockwork had said, and his…evil self had said that he couldn't deal with right now, maybe never would deal with. Clockwork, you bastard! Somehow he hated the time lord more than his other monstrous self right now. He'd be fine if he never saw either of them again as long as he lived. But Sam, linked as she was to the horrible mess, was here and now, only a few streets away, and couldn't be banished so easily from his thoughts, or his life.
He knew it would be hard to avoid talking about her with Jazz, which was why he'd been up for so long worrying about this conversation. She would want to know about the past few days. And she'd want to talk about Sam. He wasn't ready to talk about Sam. And what could he really tell her about the last few days? The answer seemed to be not much. He wasn't even sure he wanted to confess where he'd been. She might go searching for answers from Clockwork herself, and that thought was mortifying.
A soft knock sounded on his door, and his slightly morbid thoughts stopped as his heart leapt into his throat. He frowned, calming back down, and took a deep breath while closing his eyes, resigning himself to an interrogation. "Come in."
Jazz entered, closing the door behind her, and pulled up the desk chair to sit next to the bed. She turned it backward, straddling it so as to sit with her chin propped on the back. She seemed to be trying to stay quiet, as all of her movements were very careful. Their parents were probably still asleep, then. "Hey." She chewed her lip a little, and gave him a subdued smile. She looked tired, but strangely relaxed. Danny realized suddenly that she'd probably been very worried during the trip back, not knowing where he had gone, or when and, for a little bit, even if he'd return.
He smiled back at her, comforted by her concern, and propped his pillow up so his head was tilted more toward her. "Hey," he whispered softly. "So…are you here to give me therapy or something?" The question surprised them both a little. He hadn't planned to say that at all.
Jazz looked off to the left, frowning thoughtfully, and responded in a soft, low voice. "If that's what you need, then yeah. But I also thought we should get our story straight about the last few days."
"Not much to get straight. We ran into Sam on the way to Colorado, so canceled the rest of the trip and brought her back. And I was with you the whole time."
"Well, yes. But where were you really the last three days, Danny? You didn't say in the letter you left us in Idaho. And what exactly happened between you and…" she paused frowning, "let's just call him Nad, to avoid confusion? Your name reversed…" She stopped, confused, at Danny's wide eyed stare.
"No. That's just wrong."
"W-what? What's so bad about…"
Danny looked up at the ceiling, and suddenly felt like laughing for the first time in days. Trust Jazz to know the inner workings of the brain while being oblivious about rather common slang. British slang, but still slang. "Add an 'S' to the end. Sound familiar?"
"You mean…nads?" He put his hand over his eyes so she couldn't see them rolling. She pursed her lips. "I'm still not getting it."
He snorted, and slid his hand down to his mouth to cover the brief smile. "If you haven't figured it out, then I'm not going to explain it to you. But trust me, that's just wrong." He sighed, seriousness descending again. "How about…" He stopped himself from suggesting the name "monster." Somehow he couldn't bear everyone calling the monst…calling his other self that, not now. "Let's just call him Dan. You almost always call me Danny anyway."
Jazz stared at him for a moment, looking very serious. "Okay. So what does nads mean?" What? Danny groaned and put both hands to his face, turning on his side to face away from her. He knew she was frowning.
He couldn't resist. "You'll find out when you're older."
He smirked at her indignation. "What! Come on! Danny, I'm older than you!" She paused, and added, "It can't be that bad."
He was kind of enjoying this. "Ask Sam. She knows." He flinched half a second later.
He'd said it without thinking. Sam had been the one to tell him, after all. He let out a long sigh, and slowly turned back around, the humor dying away at the mention of her name.
He let out a long sigh. "It's just British slang for where you knee a guy in a dark alley, Jazz. If you catch my drift." It wasn't funny anymore.
"Ah." Silence descended, the British word practically forgotten.
The muddled, painful, mortifying problem that was his life had suddenly descended again, and Danny literally felt his emotions draw back into themselves in self defense. Had he actually felt like laughing a moment ago? It seemed impossible.
Jazz locked eyes with him for a few moments, frowning slightly. "So. About Sam." She looked down, whetting her lips in a nervous gesture. "She and I talked a little on the way back, about what to tell her parents."
There was a long pause before he asked the obvious question. "What did you decide?"
She sighed, looking back up. "We didn't. I don't think she's going to tell them anything, really. Hopefully they'll just be happy to have their daughter back, and they'll let her open up when she's ready."
"She'll never be ready. They'll never be ready." He looked at the ceiling. His plain white ceiling. He suddenly wished it had some sort of texture to it, so he could draw faces and pictures in it, but he almost immediately knew it would be the ultimate practice in torturous monotony. Somehow he felt he'd already traced the lines of another ceiling a thousand times before.
Jazz cut through his peculiar thoughts. "They may have to be ready. Nathaniel could change at any time. I saw him do it once on the way back." Danny's throat went dry at these words, and he swallowed a few times to moisten it again.
"What…did he look like?" He wanted to know, but really didn't want to at the same time. But then, he really did. He looked over at Jazz in trepidation.
"He has your eyes…" She looked down at her hands, embarrassed. "And your hair, too." She looked back up tentatively.
Danny felt a strange fluttering feeling deep down. Maybe the kid didn't look like his other self that much? Maybe not at all? What would that mean? But he instinctively knew not to focus on that line of reasoning. "So what else? Fangs? Forked tongue?" He scowled.
"No. But he's…got his ears, and the skin, sort of. It's lighter blue. Danny, I know he's not technically yo…"
"Jazz, stop." He spoke quietly, eyes back on the ceiling. He looked away from it suddenly, angry for some inexplicable reason.
"Okay, moving on then." She sighed again, sounding defeated, and took a little time to speak. She was probably having trouble letting go of the previous topic. "So…Where were you the last three days again?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have anything he could say to her, other that "none of your business." Jazz was definitely pro-active. She'd go to Clockwork. And knowing the damn ghost, he'd show himself to her and answer all her questions in excruciating detail.
"Danny?" Her voice was a little exasperated. "Fine. I can't make you tell me." She sounded upset. "But I hate to think…well, you know you can always confide in me." He looked over slowly to see her fiddling with her thumbs, looking miserable. She noticed. "Is there anything you can tell me? I'm worried. I don't know where you've been, what happened between you and…you and Dan. Sam's worried, and Tucker. That drive back was one of the most miserable…" She stopped and sighed, and he could tell she was forcibly calming herself back down. "You know we're here for you, no matter what, right?"
He stared at her for a moment, and for the first time he found himself questioning those words. Would they really understand? And all of the sudden something very specific jumped into his mind from the blur of the past few days; something that tore at the very base of his heart. Would they really support him, if they knew how close he'd come to becoming a killer? "I…." He looked away, brow furrowed in fear, voice quiet and timid. "What if I did something bad, Jazz? Really bad." Somewhere deep down, he was listening harder than he ever had in his life for her answer. Deep down, this question addressed things he wasn't willing to acknowledge.
She jumped at the chance to reassure him, to be helpful in any way. "You'll always be my little brother. Danny. You're not a bad person. I know you. You're sweet, and kind! Sometimes I think you don't know how wonderful you are. You can't see it yourself, because you're looking from the inside out all the time, so you're always wondering and worrying about what everyone else thinks…" She paused, upset.
He'd started crying silently, the tears making lines down his cheeks. Would she being saying this if she knew…? Would she really feel this way? The self loathing was welling up, and he couldn't shove it away.
Jazz bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. It was painful to see him so upset. "Danny! It's true, whatever you did couldn't have been that bad…" But this only seemed to make his tears come faster. "And…and even if it was, you're obviously feeling guilty about it, so it's not like you'll ever do it again." She didn't seem to be getting through! After a moment she added, "Because you're a good person." Jazz fell silent, feeling horrible. Everything she said just made him more upset!
She got up and came forward to sit on his bed. He needed to understand what she, and everyone close to him, could see in him! He did so much good, was such a wonderful person. He looked up at her blearily as she put her hand on his shoulder, blinking through the gummy tears. "You're a good person. I don't care what you did. Do you think you'd be crying like this if you weren't?"
Danny looked away, wracked with self doubt. "Maybe, I don't know…" He wiped at his eyes with his blanket, really only managing to smear the liquid around more evenly. "I almost killed him, Jazz." He looked up at her, blue eyes filled with self loathing and doubt. "I hurt him b-badly. I almost killed him."
Jazz stared at him for a moment, and then her jaw hardened a little, and she spoke without blinking an eye. "You're only human, Danny. I wouldn't have hesitated to take a few swipes at him either, if I had the power. He attacked Sam. Of course you're angry." She smiled a little. "Is that what's bothering you? That you tried to kill him?" He was amazed at how calm she was, though she did flinch a tiny bit at the word "kill."
Danny wasn't sure she really understood, though. This couldn't be fixed with a pat on the back! "I wanted to kill him. I wanted him dead. I tried my best to destroy him, Jazz! And…" He looked away, ashamed, feeling like he was giving away his deepest, darkest secret. "He didn't even fight back."
"Danny." He looked back over, slowly. She was smiling softly at him. "You'll never do that ever again, will you?" Her smile widened. "Like I said, you're a good person. I'm pretty sure everyone would agree that, well…he probably deserves to die. But even when you know this, you're still horrified that you tried to kill him! You're ashamed that you got angry and upset, ashamed that you wanted to take it out on him, when most people would be dancing on his grave right now! Now do you understand?" She raised her eyebrows at him, face full of love.
He blinked away a few more tears, and looked away. He really wanted to tell her how much it meant to hear that, but all he could think to say was, "Thanks." He gave her a tiny smile, and started wiping at his face again, a subtle relief coursing through his system. "This has been the worst vacation ever, especially the last few days."
She laughed for a little bit, happy to see him getting his sense of humor back. "Are you going to tell me where you were now?"
He smirked at her. "Nope, sorry."
She mock slapped at him, huffing. "Danny! Fine. You probably just went back to that restaurant we stopped at on the way over and ate pie."
He sat up suddenly, indignant, and tried not to smile. "No! Besides, three days eating pie and I'd be…"
"Sleeping it off?" She smiled widely and laughed, jumping up from the chair as he made to throw his pillow at her. "But I think you need alone time now, so I'll just talk to you later!" As she spoke she zipped over to the door, opened it, and dove through. But a moment later she stuck her head back in to stick her tongue out at him, and was just in time to get a pillow to the face. "Oh!"
"Heheh! Danny one, Jazz zero." He'd been so confident she would do that, his pillow had already been sailing on over as a result. She picked it up and threw it back, but he went intangible at the last second.
"Cheater!" She huffed, sticking her tongue out at him one more time, and closed the door before he had a chance to get her with the pillow again.
He flopped back after a moment, and smiled to himself. "Dumb sister." But somehow, she always knew what to say. He grew more serious again, thinking back over their talk. Some things he hadn't told her, wasn't ready to tell anyone, but her words had reached him there, too.
He sat back up slowly, pulling his knees up, feet spread comfortably a few feet apart, and rested his forearms lazily on his knees. Then he brought his hands up, slowly, and looked at them.
He slowly flexed his hand into fists, then released the tension, watching as his palms opened up again. Then he repeated it, slowly, rhythmically, as his mind came back down from the short reprieve from guilt and worry Jazz had given him.
She had helped. He found himself being reminded of the differences between himself and…his other self. He didn't know how to deal with what Clockwork had told him, so he simply wouldn't. Not now. And not in any definite, concrete way. But he had to judge himself on his own actions, right? He hadn't tried to blow up his family. He hadn't terrorized the world for nearly a decade. And he sure as hell hadn't forced himself on his best friend. His hands clenched involuntarily for a moment at the thought, and he found himself pulling back emotionally, distancing himself from the subject, as the sharp sting of guilt, like a fresh wound, stabbed though his mind.
Danny hadn't done any of those things, but he had lost himself completely for a little while. He'd come so close to becoming someone who maybe, possibly could do those things. He'd lost his mind; seen red. He'd been ready to do anything and everything it took to destroy someone else. And he loathed that lack of control, the fact that he could've done anything, and it wouldn't have mattered to him, not while he was doing it, anyway. And there'd been a lot that he had done that night.
Danny let out a tiny gasp at this thought. Wait! He'd blown up an entire building, and several cars, hadn't he? Stuff that could've had people in them! A sense of horror thrummed through his body for a moment, and he found himself sliding out of bed.
He had to know….he sat down at his computer, feeling dazed, shocked for the dozenth time in half as many days. What if he had killed someone? It was possible, even likely! It had been a huge building, there might've been a few late workers, a janitor, someone could've been hit by debris going to their car, anything like that! And what about the telephone pole or whatever it was he had thrown? The memory was a little hazy; he hadn't even been paying attention, had he? He could hear the blood rushing through his ears as he fought down the rising panic. No, please no, tell me no one was hurt…
He began searching online for news, anything at all about that night. The Idaho headlines, city headlines, strange stories…and slowly, articles started popping up. He started coming across what he knew to be his handiwork: articles discussing the mysterious events of that night; a building going up in flames, two cars exploding, an entire telephone pole that looked as though some "monstrous force" came through, twisting it off at the base and throwing it though a building to land (Danny groaned) in a parked car, causing it to explode. Slowly the dread started to recede, though, because casualties, or even injuries, seemed to have been avoided.
But people had been hurt. One article focused on an old man who had been wakened by the loud crashing noise as the lighting pole he'd thrown had made its way through his small family-owned restaurant. He lived in the same building, and counted himself lucky the thing hadn't come closer. Another twenty feet and he and his wife could be dead right now. Danny felt himself trapped, reading on in fascinated mortification, even while his first terror at being a possible murderer continued to slip away. The man's name was Frank Sumners, and though his family was safe, his tiny business had been completely destroyed. It had been "Frankie's Italian," and had been a well known, well liked little hole in the wall restaurant. Unfortunately, this sort of freak accident could only be partially covered by his insurance. Frank would be putting himself into debt in order to rebuild and get his restaurant going again, and at sixty-two years of age he didn't know if it was worth it. But what could he do? He didn't have enough put away for retirement, now that most of it would be poured into fixing what his insurance wouldn't cover in any case…
Danny sat back, unable to stop until he'd read the entire article. Then he continued the search, his fears only partly gone, as Frank Sumners' troubles floated around in the back of his mind. He owed that man. He owed him the life savings he'd lost, and that little restaurant. And now that he was really thinking about it, he realized that there were many other people he'd hurt. The owners of those cars, and the people who worked in and owned that business building he'd blown up with the ghostly wail.
After digging a while he was able to locate information on the business building in another article. It had housed several different companies, with a receptionist on the ground floor to help direct people.
Danny was lost in memory for a moment as he saw Dan in his inner eye picking himself up from that broken receptionist's desk wearing a shocked expression, as he himself, only partly phased through the outer wall, had glared at him. He'd been strangely gratified by the temporarily shaken look on his older self's face…
Danny frowned to himself uncomfortably, suddenly horribly embarrassed by the scene, and his own temporarily insane behavior. He'd been gratified to see his other self shaken like that. Gratified! Of course he was shaken, you idiot! He thought I'd watch out for people and places, didn't he? Assumed I'd be careful! But ironically his older self had been the one doing damage control, which was probably a new feeling for him.
And where was he now, anyway? Danny leaned back from the computer, allowing himself to really think about his other self, a subject he'd managed to mostly avoid so far this morning. Somehow his older self had slipped into the ghost zone, hadn't he? It was a technique Danny hadn't seen a ghost use before. Come to think of it though, one of his parents' ghost fighting guns could open a momentary portal to the ghost zone which acted like a miniature black hole, dragging the ghost in as it closed up again. Had his other self figured out how to imitate that using his own ecto energy? It was something he'd have to try to imitate. Being able to get in or out of the ghost zone at a moment's notice? That could be useful.
Danny put his hands behind his head as his mind focused back on his other self. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. The bastard had to be hurting pretty badly right now, wherever he was. Ghosts were incredibly tough, so Danny didn't think he'd be gone forever, but he sure wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Even now, with the guilt weighing him down for how out of control he'd been, he couldn't feel sorry for him. He'd deserved every punch. It did sicken him when he thought about how he'd mangled his arm, and he knew he'd have nightmares about it. But that didn't mean Dan hadn't deserved it. After all, his other self had done much worse, in both timelines.
But he didn't have anyone. The unwelcome thought flashed into his mind out of nowhere, and Danny's thoughts ground to a sudden halt. Suddenly an image, a memory his mind seemed to have been waiting to spring on him, focused in his mind's eye with intense clarity, and he hated it.
Sam stood in a darkened room, her hands placed on that monster's shoulders; just resting there, Danny realized, not pushing away. The monster had most of his face buried in her stomach, his jaw clenched, tears streaming down his cheek…
"Agh!" Danny stood up, rubbing his face vigorously to dispel the disturbing scene he'd been met with that split second before they'd both turned to him, having noticed him standing in the doorway. But his evil self's voice, a voice so like his own, was much harder to dispel.
"Clockwork let me out, you know." So Clockwork's a bastard and I didn't know! But then he'd asked if there'd been any "chaos in the Ghost Zone, or in the human world?" Danny groaned into his hands as he walked back and forth between the desk and his bed. So he'd been free for a year and Armageddon hadn't hit yet. That didn't make him a saint!
Again, as though conspiring against him, his mind suddenly flipped to the crux of his fears concerning Dan, highlighting the painfully clear memories in a voice he could never escape.
"I'm you; I'm just all Phantom…"
"A soul isn't effected by time or space. Time, or space…"
"We're actually destined to mer…"
"UrrrRRG STOP IT!" Danny's eyes snapped open, as his hands fisted in his hair, pulling in desperate frustration. He turned his eyes to the ceiling as adrenaline coursed through his veins, and those hated words finally died away. He couldn't, wouldn't deal with that! Damn his other self! Damn Clockwork! He was not…connected….with his other self like that!
What did Clockwork know, anyway! He was manipulative, had even said so himself, had pulled a disappearing act for the past nine months when he might've actually been useful, and now this? How exactly had he earned his trust anyway? Wasn't it his stupid time medallion that had brought Dan here in the first place?
Danny let out a slow groaning sigh, and dropped his hands to his sides, calming down a little. That was the answer, then. He couldn't trust either of them, and so couldn't take anything they said seriously. Period. He didn't have to deal with it. Never mind if it even made sense. Which it didn't. It had no bearing on his life, nothing to do with him; he would not think about it…!
"Danny?" His dad had popped open the door and was staring at his somewhat distraught profile owlishly. "Your mom heard you yell, son, and we just wanted to see if you were okay." He raised both eyebrows. "Didn't drop something on your foot, did you? Just yesterday I got my big toe really good with the Fent…"
Danny stared at him as he talked, completely caught off guard for a moment. Somehow the intrusion had snapped him out of the nasty rut his mind had been digging, so he was almost thankful for the inane chatter. He swallowed, willing himself to calm down further, and thought up an excuse. "Nah, actually my computer's messing up. A virus, I think." He grinned shakily. "But that's life, right?" He walked over to his desk, turning his computer off manually to hide what he'd been looking up. "I'll just give it a cold boot; that'll probably fix it."
"And if that doesn't work, a swift kick can do a world of good!" His dad grinned good naturedly. He frowned in mock concentration. "Or maybe Tucker would be a better way to go." He let out a booming laugh and started backing out of the room again, but stopped at the last moment. "Breakfast should be on the way in about half an hour, Danny. FLAPJACKS!" He closed the door, grinning.
Danny breathed out in a whoosh, running his right hand through his hair in agitation. Whew. There was one instinct he'd honed to perfection- the ability to come up with a whopper at anytime and anyplace, with just about anyone. He was a master at lying, and doing it in tight situations. It wasn't that he wanted to, of course; it was simply a necessity.
After a moment he took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed. Strangely, having to throw up his barriers like that had helped get his thoughts under control, at least for the moment. He lay back after a bit, forcing himself to relax more, and after a few minutes, to his surprise, he could feel himself dozing off. But then he'd woken up insanely early after all, and had just been through a grueling several days. Then the enticing smells of breakfast began wafting up, and Danny realized with a start that he hadn't eaten in nearly forty-eight hours.
The reaction was instantaneous. He was a teenage boy. And he wasn't just hungry, he was starving. How'd he missed it before? And as he stampeded down the stairs he realized that all emotional dilemmas could totally wait.
Sam sat in her room, cell phone in hand. It had been three days since she'd gotten home, and she had yet to hear from Danny.
Jazz, however, called her regularly every morning to give her a "Danny update." Apparently he spent a lot of time in his room on the computer, doing research on any and all damage he was responsible for from the fight. He wanted to keep track so he could make up for it someday.
Which was cool, and it sounded like he was focusing on something positive, which for him was a really good thing. But she'd really, really love to hear from him personally. And there were still the three days of missing time Danny hadn't accounted for yet. Jazz was hoping maybe someone else, either her or Tucker, could get him to open up, since he was a closed book at home.
Sam's thumb hovered over the send button on her cell phone, having already scrolled down to his number. Why did this have to be so hard? She really wanted to talk to him! She had missed him. She had gone nine months without the silly jokes, the banter between all three of them, the occasional serious discussions as her own philosophy and Tucker's clashed, with Danny offering up a quiet, but often goofy word now and then. She missed the movie nights, the bowling, helping Danny with last minute homework, even. Heck, she missed the wild and crazy ghost hunts, though Tucker (who had already called her twice, unlike a certain ghost boy) had said there were hardly any ghost sightings in Amity anymore.
Sam was even willing to admit to herself that she…she especially missed the tender, shy looks Danny used to send her sometimes, the ones that would send a tingling sensation all the way down to the tips of her toes. But she was worried that the chance they'd had for something more might be gone forever.
The fact was, he wasn't even comfortable talking about her, according to Jazz, let alone with her. Which was why Jazz had told her that she needed to make the first move to get their friendship going again, either by dropping by or giving him a call. Thus the cell phone she was currently holding in her hand.
But things were so complicated! What could she talk about with him, would even want to talk about? "Hey Danny, want to hear about the details of pregnancy and single motherhood, which has been my life for the past nine months?" Barf! She didn't even want to talk about the pregnancy, and she'd gone through it! And she was afraid that if they started talking seriously, it would lead somewhere she didn't want to go, that neither of them wanted to go, and then what?
Sam, you coward! Now she was just making excuses. They'd both know instinctively what to avoid, and they still had plenty to talk about, like what he and Tucker had been up to in her absence.
No, when it came down to it, she was afraid of rejection. Who said he'd even be comfortable hanging out with her now, let alone anything more? She was a teenage mom! She didn't even have time to "hang out" anymore. There weren't exactly a lot of people she could trust to baby sit Nathaniel. Not that she'd give him up for the world, but he just made things so complicated…
She put the phone down, losing her nerve again, and got up from her bed, wandering over to the crib, where Nathaniel was sleeping. She had to thank her lucky stars that Vlad had thought to make the crib somewhat normal looking. It wouldn't win any beauty contests, but nothing glowed green (or any other color), and if you didn't know any better you'd think it was perfectly normal, if rather ugly. Her mother had draped colorful covers over the side to hide its grey color.
"Sweety?" Speak of the devil. Her mom's muffled voice could be heard on the other side of her door. Sam was almost happy for the distraction.
"Yes?" She smoothed her hair behind her ears, not quite willing to go over and open the door just yet.
"Something came in the mail for you, sweetheart." Sam winced at the pathetically hopeful tone in her Mom's voice. It wasn't that she had wanted to avoid her family over the past few days, but what choice did she have? She couldn't predict when Nathaniel would "go ghost," and the idea of her parents finding out was terrifying. They loved her dearly, but could she really expect them to deal rationally with Nathaniel's ghost half…?
"Er, just a sec Mom." Sam sighed softly and padded toward the door, opening it to the expectant face of her mother, who handed over a small package.
"It's strange, it doesn't have a return address, Sammykins." Her Mom looked down at it curiously as Sam gave the small package a quick once-over.
It was a carefully taped up cardboard box, about the size of a paperback book. There didn't appear to be any markings on it, aside from their own address printed in large, blocky letters, though, oddly, there wasn't any sign of postage. She flipped it over to check the back.
The letters VP were printed in the center in a large, ornate script. Sam's mouth tightened imperceptibly. Vlad Plasmius. She'd thought so.
She looked up, trying to appear bored. "I'll…take a look at it in a little bit. Thanks." She smiled apologetically as she placed her free hand on the edge of her door, silently imploring her mom to go away. She responded with a slight frown on her brow and a tight, sad smile, but moved back. Sam closed the door, feeling like a jerk. Sorry Mom.
She slowly made her way back to her bed, eyes narrowed on the suspicious package. Another gift? Or a trap? She supposed she'd open it, but first…
She nabbed her cell phone, brought up another number, and waited a moment as the phone rang.
"Hey Sam, what's up?" Tucker sounded happy to talk, though they'd just spoken three or four hours ago. Everybody was happy to talk to her right now, except Danny, apparently.
"Actually, I was wondering if you could make a quick stop over at my place for a few minutes? And maybe bring a few of your more interesting tools with you? I have an item or two that'll…probably be interesting..." She left the sentence hanging, a laugh in her voice.
He sounded intrigued. "Really. I know if you say so it's probably true, so give me a few and I'll be right over, okay?"
Sam grinned. "Great, and thanks. Bye." She smiled softly as she put the phone down. Her eyes immediately went to the package. Opening it right now probably wouldn't do any harm, but she kind of wanted Tucker here just in case it was something really nasty, so she'd wait.
At the sound of the doorbell Sam snuck out of her room for a few moments to usher Tucker inside and to quickly drag him back upstairs, which he didn't seem to mind. He'd rather skip the small talk with the odd family member, too, if it was all the same.
She turned after closing her bedroom door, and let out a huff of air. "Okay." She paused for a moment as Tucker walked away and started taking off layers, draping them over the back of a chair. It was freezing outside, after all, and humid, which always made the cold ten times worse. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Tuck, I completely forgot about the lousy weather."
He half turned while struggling out of the jacket he wore under his longer coat, smiling. "No problem. So where's the merchandise?"
She frowned. "I got what looks like another present. From Vlad." They locked eyes for a moment. Uh-oh.
"Right." He crossed his arms. "So, have you opened it yet?"
"Nope. I was waiting for you to do the honors." She went over to retrieve it from the bed, passing it to Tucker. "It's all yours. Unless you'd prefer I open it?"
"I'd prefer you not open it. I'm really glad you called me too." He was serious for a moment, worry for her showing in his face.
She looked down, embarrassed but happy to have someone who cared about her and fully understood the situation. "Thanks. So…"
Without further talk, Tucker started carefully tearing open the package. The contents included a small rubbery bracelet and a letter. They sat on the edge of Sam's bed, unfolded the letter, and read silently.
"Dearest Samantha,
Upon learning of your new living arrangements, I thought it pertinent to bequeath you with another small gift, which is also, of course, a further token of my good will.
It is a very unique bracelet to be worn by Nathaniel. I think you will find it helps with certain digestive difficulties he may have, you know, to help with his perhaps too frequent changes. It has been thoroughly tested, and should be completely harmless to his system. But if you feel the need, may I suggest trying it out on any available specimens who might present themselves?
I should warn you that it is still the first of its kind, and thus may have unforeseen effects if worn at all times. For instance, when removed there might be a temporary increase in Nathaniel's digestive problems, and he may need a change very quickly. That said, I would suggest using the bracelet when other alternatives are unavailable. I trust, however, that this will serve to free up your schedule quite a bit, thus leaving you to fully enjoy your time back in the loving presence of friends and family.
Yours truly,
VP"
Tucker broke the silence after a moment. "Riiiiight. I guess you have to give him points for being circumspect." He leaned back on his hands, letting Sam have the letter.
She scowled. "Of course he's circumspect. Just think about what he sent me! The last thing he wants is for my cover to be blown with my parents. Danny's parents might find out from them, and then what?" She paused for a moment.
Tucker picked up the question. "Well, I guess they'd really be interested in Nathaniel, for one…"
"Yeah, and what else? They'd probably put a ghost shield up around our house."
Tucker nodded. "Right. And they'd probably be able to design something like this bracelet, and any other stuff you'd need." He pursed his lips. "So Vlad would be cut out of the equation, wouldn't he?"
Sam's scowl deepened. "If he was lucky. If things really came out, his own identity could be in jeopardy, never mind his chance at Nathaniel! And I have no doubt that's what he's still after." She smiled scornfully. "I bet all his plans went to hell when you guys found me, though. Poor Vlad." Her smile slowly turned to a frown, and she put the letter down to wander over to Nathaniel's pen.
Tucker came to stand next to her after a moment, resting his hands on the edge of the pen. "I'm really glad we found you, Sam, even if you were planning to come back anyway."
"Yeah." Her eyes stayed on Nathaniel's sleeping form.
"But you know, I've been thinking, and with Vlad keeping an eye on you, maybe you couldn't have…made it back. On your own." Sam turned to meet his gaze, face tight.
"Yeah, I…know. That's why I was taking so l-long…I knew I'd need a plan." Her eyes widened as she spoke, her face tightening so much her lips were pulled back into an unnatural smile. She took an unsteady breath, trying to get a grip on the rising hysteria she'd been suppressing for months now. "I mean, look at how fast this came, Tuck." Her voice was a terrified whisper. "Look at how fast…"
He put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Sam…" She turned, letting him pull her into a tight hug. Tucker found himself tearing up slightly in response to her shaking shoulders. She'd been through so much. "Wow, Sam. I don't know how you held it together like you did all this time, I honestly can't fathom…" He let out a soft sigh, stroking her head with one hand to sooth her as she let her fears and more than a few tears fall onto his shoulder.
They pulled apart after a minute or two, Sam's face red and wet. She let out a shaky sigh. "Sorry."
Tucker shook his head. "You deserve a good cry."
She smiled, and had to admit that she felt strangely cleansed. "Well, thanks." She couldn't tell him how much this meant to her, but she tried as best she could, voice still a little shaky. "I don't know how I ended up with a friend as good as you." She sighed again, and they sat for a moment longer.
Then she hopped up suddenly. "I'm a mess. Give me half a minute to get the salt out of my eyes?"
"Yeah, of course." She was off to the bathroom in a flash. Tucker picked up the bracelet after a moment, fiddling with it as he waited. It was a light blue, and made of a flexible but tough material. There weren't any sharp edges, and it was adjustable. There was also a key for opening it, which was a necessary thing, he guessed, if Sam wanted to leave Nathaniel with people who might think to take it off for some reason. Overall, it seemed to be really well made. Not that he should be surprised by that.
"So…" Tucker looked up to see Sam standing in the bathroom door, "that thing's supposed to short out his ghost powers?"
"Hypothetically."
Sam looked thoughtful. "He suggested testing it on Danny to make sure, though. I wonder if he'd be willing?" She looked almost ashamed after asking. "I don't know, it's probably too risky." She couldn't stop herself from going on, though. "It's just…it would be so useful." She walked over to sit next to him again. "That's why I started using the playpen. It was that or go with less than two hours of sleep a night."
They stared down at it for a moment. "We might as well ask him, right?"
"You mean…Danny?"
Tucker cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Danny. Who else? Vlad?"
Sam avoided his gaze. "Yeah, of course Danny, I guess. I just…we should probably wait until tomorrow, it's getting late enough today that he'll probably be having dinner in an hour. I wouldn't want to interrupt…" She looked up, incredulous, at the sound of Tucker snickering softly.
"I can't believe it. You're shy!" Sam was mortified at the words, crossing her arms defensively.
"No I'm not, Tucker…"
"Yes you are! And only with Danny, of course! I told Jazz it was going to be hard to get you two, er…" he floundered for a second, obviously reworking what he'd been about to say, "back to normal." He smiled widely at her.
Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "What were you really going to say?" His smile grew even more. "Tucker!" She gave him her best Goth glare of death, but it had no effect. It was probably the blond hair.
"Sorry, you don't scare me anymore, Sam. I'm taller than you now!" He said it as though she might have missed the fact.
She rolled her eyes. "You were taller when I left!" She fixed her glare on him again, and after a few moments the pressure got to him.
"Okay, okay, maybe you still scare me sometimes. A little. But I said exactly what I meant to say, and I'm not changing a word." He chuckled good naturedly.
She relented, smiling a little herself. "Right. So, tomorrow then?" The look in her eyes dared him to argue with her.
"Fine by me. I'll give him a call about it on my way back home. I already planned to hound him into doing something with me tomorrow anyway, since school starts back the day after. So…I guess I'll get him over here sometime tomorrow. I'll call you ahead of time to let you know when?"
"That's fine. I'll see you then." They shared a smile, before he turned to struggle back into his cold weather gear.
"Er, Sam? Why don't I take the bracelet with me? Maybe Danny and I can run a few tests on it using his parents' stuff." He wiggled one hand around, trying to get his glove to fit more comfortably. She came over and handed the bracelet to him.
"Great idea."
A few more moments of struggling went by, and then, "Okay, I'm off." Tucker gave her a quick smile, a wave, a "See you tomorrow," and then let himself out the door.
She closed it behind him after a moment, leaning against the solid wood. Her heart fluttered a little as her thoughts immediately jumped to his accusation of her being shy around Danny. He is so right. She bit her lip in trepidation. She'd be seeing Danny tomorrow! She groaned softly to herself, aggravated with feelings she wasn't used to having. Her shy, her hesitant? Tucker was completely right. It only happened around Danny. She turned around so her back was to the door and bent her knees, letting herself slide to the floor. She sat for a moment, mood turning sour.
Well darn it all, they couldn't both be shy! She needed to buck up and stop acting like such an utter wuss! If she wanted to get her best friend back again (and maybe something more, a mischievous voice added in the back of her head), then she'd have to make the effort herself.
Author's Note: Wrtiers block has been getting me down. And on that note, constructive criticism is extremely welcome. It gets me thinking on stuff in different ways, brings up ideas I hadn't thought of sometimes, stuff like that…
Er, one more thing. I don't know if you guys noticed, but I made Sam's grandma be her dad's mom, not her mom's mom. oO Anyway, I don't know if that's right (though I did look around a bit to try and find out), or how anybody else has treated this, or whatever, so...yeah. If I'm wrong I'll change it, just tell me so!