Author's Note: WAAAAGH she LIVES! *cough*
...
*slinks off*
Growing Pains
"This needs to be substantially reduced in size and weight. Something you could clip onto your belt would be ideal. I also want its range increased by fifteen times, at the minimum. If this means re-engineering it from scratch, don't hesitate. I'm giving you three months free reign to develop a working prototype."
Vlad steepled his fingers, and paused. He was sitting at a small conference table with five of the best and brightest the field of engineering had to offer.
This team existed because Vlad knew his limits. He was an engineer in his own right, true, and had built his own gadgets over time. The Plasmius Maximus was an obvious example and, more recently, Nathaniel's playpen. But the people at this table had sunk their souls into this field, and by comparison, Vlad was merely a dabbler, someone who had picked it up during college because his old...friend, Jack Fenton, had made it his focus.
To a person, the table had gone silent as they took their time to look over the blueprints he'd provided. They weren't nervous; instead they exhibited focus and calm. His engineers knew him well enough by now to understand he wasn't going to rush them out of the room without giving them time to look over his newest project and ask questions.
Of course, the design he'd provided was one of his own, and older. It had serious flaws, given that he'd never seen the need to fully develop it.
Now, however, having a device to detect distant ghost energy- a ghost radar of sorts- had become imminently practical. His old design just wasn't good enough, with a hypothetical detection limit of two hundred feet, and weighing in at over one hundred pounds. They would need to drastically improve on the idea.
The time frame Vlad was providing would be a challenge, to say the least. But then, that was why he had hired these people. Each person at the table was a savant in their own right, and hand picked by him personally. If it could be done, this team would do it.
Vlad glanced around the table. "Do you have any questions?"
Alistair, one of the oldest team members, and also the most relaxed around Vlad, despite his employer's fame and fortune, asked the first question.
"So, this radar-like device, does it need to be mobile, or can it stay grounded?"
"Mobile is best, of course - something you can use while in transit."
Susan Kendal was next to speak; a petite, quiet spoken person with dirty blond hair - and the only woman in the room.
"Sir, given the time frame, would it be possible to obtain more of the energy samples we've used in prior projects, so as to allow for simultaneous testing of multiple prototypes?"
"I will be providing a regular supply during the coming months." It was a good question- they would need more ghost energy, or "xeno" energy, as they knew it, to hit the deadline he'd set. Miss Kendal would understand that, given that she was the mind behind the engine that powered Valerie Gray's hover craft, and likely knew more about ghostly energy, at least in terms of engineering, than he did.
Of course, that was the point. Vlad had been gathering this team of engineers together over the last eight years, and as a group they made up the brains of a tiny off-the-books company he had created exclusively for the development of ghost-related technology. Not that his clever employees knew the company was off the books- or, indeed, that they were working with ghostly energy. Yet the results of their work included Valerie Gray's hover craft, most of Skulker's ghost hunting weapons, and numerous other useful gadgets.
It had been an interesting task over the years for Vlad to fully utilize his employees' unique strengths, without giving their inquisitive minds enough information to put two and two together about the nature of the energy they worked with. Fortunately, unlike Jack, they weren't prone to conspiracy theories about ghosts and the like. And even with Amityville's level of ghostly activity having reached notorious levels a year back, and thus garnering more national attention than Vlad personally cared to see, it didn't seem any connections had been drawn yet. Also, his employees' contracts clearly spelled out that they weren't at liberty to discuss anything they did at work, anyway.
Besides, they had an entire ten story building all to themselves, filled with a veritable playground of tools at their fingertips, not to mention enormous creative leeway, and a lucrative paycheck. This added up to plenty of incentive to keep to the company rules regarding secrecy. And that creative leeway had paid off. They were a group of miracle workers, taking many of Vlad's own rough plans to fruition, as well as thinking up entirely original gadgets on their own.
Of course, there were potential drawbacks. These people were incredibly clever, and someone who paid attention to the right news might make the leap to ghostly energy. Even so, that was a hypothetical situation, and far fetched, whereas Spectra and Bertrand represented a real and current threat.
Another drawback, however, was the personal time a company like this required. It would be a relief when it came time to head home, where he could openly nurse the lingering pain in his shoulder. Still, time was of the essence, so he didn't regret the trip.
Besides, it had been necessary. Since this entire building and their work was all off the books, Vlad served as their only personal contact. He had personally interviewed each of them before brining them on, he wrote their paychecks, he took care of the accounting - in short, this company was his pet project, and his alone. That meant that the people at this table were unique in that he met with them regularly and directly. This wasn't a company where cyber communication - web conferencing and such - would ever be an option.
Starting today, his engineers would be pouring their creative energies into helping Vlad build the tools necessary to isolate the most serious threat he had faced in a long while. Spectra was ruthless, cruel, clever...and now, she was his enemy. And she was sure to put two and two together regarding his human identity sooner or later.
"Phew." Jazz sat on her new bed, and looked around one more time. Everything was in place! She had just finished setting her family photo up on the desk, which, luckily, she was able to place in front of a window this year, too. Even better, she was on the top floor this time, nestled in a corner of the building, which meant less noise from the neighbors.
Not that things ever got that crazy at Yale, unless you counted the disorders she studied about in her psych courses.
Jazz pursed her lips. The same couldn't be said for back home. A lot of craziness had happened over the summer, but at least it felt like things had settled for now. Danny had aced calculus, and Sam had caught up on her own school work, graduating high school late, with honors. More importantly, Nathaniel would be a year old in just a couple of months, and it seemed to Jazz that Danny was well on the way to becoming his adoptive dad. He and Sam were young, true, but it looked like even the Mansons were coming to terms with the idea.
So, there were some...loose ends, but things felt good, right now. Stable...
*ring, ring*
Jazz blinked. Each dorm room had a landline, and coupled with the older architecture, the place felt a little like a nicer, European styled hotel. She stood, going to answer it. "Hello?"
"Miss Jasmine Fenton?"
Jazz nodded at the polite female voice; they had a receptionist as well, who served as a gate keeper for the woman only dorm.
"That would be me!"
"There's a young man downstairs asking to see you. A Dimitri?"
Jazz's mouth went dry, as her thoughts came to a crashing halt.
"Miss Fenton?"
Jazz swallowed, and found her voice. "I'll...be right down." She set the phone down, ending the call, then walked the length of her room.
There it was. The moment she thought of it...that loose end appeared!
Jazz turned back, walking the length of the room again. Back, forth, back again...she patted herself down with nervous hands, as if she'd misplaced something and couldn't remember what. All of a sudden, she felt scatter brained, and uncertain.
Jazz stopped pacing abruptly, and sat on the edge of her bed, eyes wide. Her keys were in her pocket, her hair was in place, she didn't have anything to do, and she had already said she was coming down. There was no reason to delay...
Truth be told, she was afraid. Dan Phantom was downstairs, wanting to meet with her in person...?
Jazz's fists clenched firmly closed, and she took a cleansing breath. Okay...okay. She could do this.
She stood abruptly, moving before she lost her nerve, and went out the door.
He was dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Even so, the clothes looked expensive, and he was drawing attention where he stood just inside the front doors. He turned to look at Jazz almost as soon as she caught sight of him, letting his crossed arms drop to his sides. His posture straightened even further, betraying tension.
Jazz slowed to a stop a few feet away, and for a long moment, they just looked at each other.
He was so...normal looking. Black, wiry hair, skin a few shades darker than her own. Blue eyes that, although muted, called out silently to her, alive, familiar...nervous.
Jazz glanced down, an unexpected bolt of pain making her heart clench.
He cleared his throat. "Would you..." He hesitated, "Have you eaten lunch yet?" His voice was quiet, but carried through the space. It didn't take much for a Fenton to project.
Jazz looked up, fists starting to unconsciously clench again. She couldn't seem to find words, didn't know what to say...
"Of course she wants to get lunch with such a nice young man. Go on, school hasn't even started yet." They both turned, startled, to see the receptionist smiling warmly; an older lady, who had obviously misinterpreted the awkward moment.
Dan's hand went to the back of his head in embarrassment, mouth opening to explain, but then he glanced back to Jazz, and their eyes caught.
Jazz couldn't help but smile a little, caught off guard by that familiar pose, and instantly, whatever Dan planned to say was forgotten as he smiled back, his hand dropping to his side again.
Jazz's heart softened further, and she didn't let herself think too hard.
"I...guess I have time."
His smile turned into a joyful grin, and Jazz looked at her feet, mouth tight, as they headed for the exit.
They ended up at a hole in the wall coffee shop. Classes didn't start for the better part of a week, and since it was mid-afternoon and most of the students weren't back in town yet, the place was surprisingly dead. The only other person in the building was the barista, and they were sticking to the other side of the space.
It afforded them privacy, and Jazz supposed that was a good thing. Not that she felt capable of voicing anything, when it came down to it. They had hardly spoken since leaving her dorm. She quietly continued munching on her sandwich, head bowed slightly, while Dan held a mug of herbal tea, silently watching her eat.
He finally spoke in quiet tones. "Did you...did you receive my letter?"
Jazz glanced up for an instant, before focusing on her sandwich again. She nodded, throat tightening, and took another bite.
Dan nodded too, rubbing his lips together in a nervous motion, and took a sip of his cooling tea. "Did you...share it?"
Jazz stared down at her plate, face neutral. "She doesn't want the money." Her voice was surprisingly harsh in her own ears, and to her shock, she felt tears pricking at her eyes. She furiously took another bite of her sandwich as she tried to reign in her emotions, unable to look up again.
Come on, Jazz...now you're upset? But his question brought the conversation she'd had with Sam over a month back to the forefront of her mind, and an inner beast made up of betrayal and protective fury was rising up, as if it had been lying in wait for an opportunity to pounce.
Dan went silent, his hands flattening on the table top, and neither of them spoke for a little while.
Eventually, he found his voice again. "I'd..." He faltered, fear in his voice. "I'd like to...meet you...like this. Just...spend time, now and then..." He stopped, voice tight, and the dread of rejection was tangible in the air between them, as if he expected her to say no, but couldn't stop himself from asking, anyway.
"Why...?" Jazz glared at the table, and rested the remnants of her sandwich on her plate, hands clenching until her knuckles were white. In the time he'd remained silent, her anger had only grown. "Why should I spend any time with you...? Do you have any idea..."
Jasmine's breaths were suddenly coming in large lungfuls, as if she was running a race. Her hands began to shake slightly, and the tears she'd felt earlier finally started to fall. Her emotions held her in thrall for a few moments, her throat working as she struggled with herself, chin trembling with the hurt and betrayal and protective fury she felt.
Because this was her brother. She no longer had any doubt of that. This was Danny. And he did something like this?!
"She was so...terrified..." Jazz stopped, her voice gone again, but finally looked up, fury and pain in her eyes.
He was staring down at the table top with tight lips, expression held rigid, but his eyes were just a little too bright. His mouth opened just slightly, but no words came.
Long moments passed by, and Jazz found she couldn't speak either, her throat painfully tight. But the words repeated in her mind.
How could you..? How could you?
Finally, Dan nodded, his eyes never leaving the table, as if having made a decision about something. His expression was still rigid, but his damp cheeks belied the emotion under the surface, and Jazz's seeking eyes found a hint of despair there.
With painfully straight posture, he slowly stood, nodding a second time, eyes still carefully downcast.
"I...s-should go." The words were hardly audible.
Jazz stared, as he turned to leave.
One step, two steps...he was a dozen feet away now...
As he went, a chasm seemed to open in Jazz's heart, a fear, a sense of impending loss...
"Wait."
Dan came to a stop, with his back still to her.
She couldn't. She couldn't leave it like this. He was not going to walk away thinking she hated him, thinking that forgiveness was impossible.
Jazz pushed her own chair back, standing next to it. She closed her eyes, straightened her shoulders as if going into battle, and breathed out through her mouth.
"Come...back." Her hands still trembled slightly, and there were still tears in her eyes, but her voice was calmer, the edge of fury gone. She took another, deeper breath, and raised her chin, using every bit of self control she had to calm down.
Dan turned slightly, only showing his profile, and Jazz repeated herself, voice softer, conciliatory. "Come on...sit back down."
He slowly turned back, and Jazz sat again herself, biting her lip. The sandwich was sitting like lead in her stomach. She reached for her lukewarm latte, taking a sip. Neither of them spoke for a minute, while Jazz quietly used a napkin to wipe away the evidence of her tears. She had an extra, and finally pushed it across the table, toward Dan.
"Here."
He reached out slowly, waiting until she had withdrawn her hand, and slowly used it to wipe his own face, blowing his nose. Jazz stared up at him again. Seeing him clear the snot away was surreal, and for an instant, she almost laughed. It was another small thing she realized she had thought of as uniquely human.
But he'd had a child with a human.
His voice broke into her thoughts, low and weak, the sound of a continual battle against emotion. "I know...I failed. Big time. I never..." Jazz stared, lips tight, as Dan shook his head, able to guess at what he hadn't voiced.
I never thought I'd do these things. Never thought I'd become this.
Dan smiled lopsidedly, the expression somewhere between humor and despair, and snorted softly. His eyes held irony, and shame. "Never say never."
Jazz felt the energy leave her frame, the last remnants of fury slipping away to leave her drained of emotion. She felt worn. Betrayed, sad...and trying to understand, even though it hurt.
Because it did hurt, to sit here across from him like this. To let him be near her.
Jazz allowed herself to slump, conforming to the chair, and cupped her drink with both hands, seeking the remnant of warmth there. Her mind returned to their phone conversation from months ago, and she quietly sighed, remembering her promise to him.
Her voice came out soft, and sad. "That was...a dirty trick you pulled. Pretending to be Danny on the phone."
Jazz was bringing it up for a reason, but she was too bent out of shape right now to spell it out for him.
Dan's eyes widened slightly, and that was enough to show that he understood. That she still meant every word of what she'd said before.
He blinked rapidly and looked away, a bittersweet smile on his face. He took a moment to find his voice again, mouth opening to speak...
But Jazz cut him off with a raised hand, before he could say the words she wasn't ready to hear.
Thank you.
That's what he wanted to say, just like he had over the phone, but she wasn't willing to accept his gratitude, not yet, because in her heart she was still struggling to find the forgiveness she had promised him.
"It's not...going to happen overnight." A little anger found its way back to her voice. "Okay? I'm hurting. Seeing you...hurts."
And...I'm ashamed of what you did. Jazz didn't say that out loud. It was clear that he knew.
Dan nodded, eyes full of longing and affection and pain.
Jazz let out a slow, controlled breath, and took a shaky sip of her drink. She sat up straight again, and set her shoulders, having made up her mind.
"Every two weeks. Your treat."
He just stared at her, nodding again. His eyes poured out so much, too much for her to take in, or acknowledge.
Jazz nodded back. She couldn't find a smile for him, not yet, but...
Maybe in time.
"It kind of ticks me off how awesome this is." Tucker had his cell phone stashed in a pocket as he spoke, leaving his hands free to gimmick around with the universal adapter on display at the New Age Technologies kiosk, one of many technology-centric kiosks filling the large indoor space.
He was currently attending a convention focused on new technologies, hosted by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. As an MIT student, Tucker got free admission to the event. Classes didn't start for a few more days, and so he'd made his way on over to check it out, having already settled into his dorm.
And guess what? There just happened to be a New Age Technologies kiosk with awesome gear. Unfortunately, there was a teensy drawback. The company was jointly owned by Vlad Masters and Danny's evil twin.
Danny's surprisingly even toned voice came through Tucker's earphones. "Stay objective, Tuck. It it's good tech, it's good tech, right?" Danny was currently playing with Nathaniel, which probably explained his mild comments. Time with Nathaniel was better than therapy.
But jeeze, this was so not fair!
Tucker rolled his eyes, as he continued testing out the gadget in his hands. It was currently an adapter for a micro USB port, which had been a regular USB 3.0 port a moment back, which had been an ethernet port a moment before that...
Tucker couldn't keep the whine out of his voice, as he answered Danny. "Man, I already pay Vlad enough money every time I have to update my PC." He sighed. "He sure knows how to pick technology, though. This is gonna be in everybody's home within the year, Danny, mark my words..."
Tucker shook his head, and put the adapter down, moving on to another kiosk. "Anyway, how are you guys doing without me around to hold down the fort?"
Danny chuckled on the other end of the line. "We're eating all your pizza for you, so it's not so bad." There was a wistful edge to his cheerful tone. For friends that had spent nearly every day together for years, being separated by half the country was definitely a change. Jazz was the only person within spitting distance of Tucker now, up at Yale.
Danny had opted to attend the community college in Amity for the next year. It wasn't a fancy place, but his plan was to knock out a lot of core freshman and sophomore courses before focusing in on a specific degree, with another college. It didn't hurt that Sam was staying with her parents for now, at least through the fall semester...
Tucker's thoughts faltered.
After living in a town with ghosts for years, Tucker had gotten pretty good at recognizing when someone's eyes was watching him. He glanced around abruptly, and Tucker's eyes locked with another young man's.
Piercing blue eyes. Black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a goatee...on one of the few faces Tucker knew better than his own.
Him. Danny's evil twin. He was well dressed and had obviously been on his way to somewhere, but now he stood stock still, turned halfway toward Tucker, staring blatantly with his mouth slightly open. Another man wearing a convention volunteer badge was circling back to him, looking confused.
Tucker nearly dropped the gadget he was holding, then set it down shakily, while Dan continued to stare at him.
"Hey Tuck, you still there...?" Danny's voice sounded worried.
He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Uh...can I call you back?"
"Yeah, sure! Er, bye for now..."
"...bye." Tucker ended the call, and the music he'd been playing before took it's place. Right then, it felt like noise. Tucker reached up, pulling the earphones out, and pocketed them, his eyes never leaving Danny's evil double.
Dan Phantom.
Then the shock passed, and Tucker couldn't stop the visceral reaction; his fists clenched, adrenaline spiked, and his face pulled into a bitter, furious frown...
Dan seemed to wake up. His mouth snapped shut, expression turning neutral. He nodded in a barely discernible movement, then turned to briskly continue on his way.
Tucker found he was breathing hard. It was the first time he'd seen Dan in a human disguise since the attack on Amity years ago, and just like then, he'd chosen to make himself look exactly like his best friend, if you didn't count the ponytail and goatee. Tucker's palms had turned sweaty, and for a wild moment he was tempted to follow, catch up, and punch him in the face, since right here and now, he could probably get away with it...
But he wouldn't. Tucker knew he'd probably get kicked out of MIT, and for what? Sure, Dan couldn't phase out or take him down in front of a crowd if he wanted to keep his identity intact, but Tucker still wouldn't win, not really. It probably wouldn't even hurt the creep.
Tucker started for the exit, unable to keep the scowl off his face. He needed to get out of here, now, while he still had some common sense left.
Tucker ground his teeth, and violently shoved back from his dormitory desk. He stood, and started pacing the bedroom, back and forth.
He couldn't believe it! Dan Phantom was speaking at the convention. And based on the time, he was probably already on stage! Tucker shook his head, scowling at nothing.
Dimitri Mihailov...? Freaking...ridiculous! Tucker almost wished he'd stayed, just to laugh at the crummy Russian accent. Or maybe he wouldn't even bother trying? Jeeze! And he was there to represent one of the coolest companies of the decade...? It was a – a joke! Danny was freaking clueless about technology!
Tucker paused, briefly stricken, and started circling the room again in double time, crossing his arms.
It was just so...creepy, seeing him disguised like that. Looking just like his best friend. Tucker paused again, dropping his arms to his sides, and thought back over the last several months. Jazz, and that letter she'd shared, where Dan had introduced his stupid sounding human identity...
And before that, he could hardly forget how Danny's stricken attitude around Sam had lingered for months, after they'd brought her back from Idaho. After his fight with Dan...
Tucker crossed his arms again, protective and furious at the same time, as his thoughts churned.
Over the summer, he'd gotten to know Jazz a lot better, and along the way, he'd gotten to understand just how deeply she cared about helping people. It wasn't like she didn't have the aptitude for engineering, but she was drawn to psychology becasue that's where she thought she could make a difference. When Tucker thought about it, Jazz was one of the most empathetic people he knew...
And she did not deserve to have a killer disguised as her kid brother sending her letters talking about how important she was to him!
And Danny...
Tucker hadn't really understood, before. Now, it struck him right in the gut, and he found himself imagining his own face staring back at him, another guy with his body, his voice, his memories...
Tucker sat down at the edge of his bed. He felt queasy. At least Danny knew better. Whatever had happened in Idaho, it was still clear that he hated Dan. But Jazz...? After reading Dan's letter, she had been talking like that creep was family. Like...like he really was someone they couldn't, in good conscience, treat like the enemy he clearly was.
And Sam...
Tucker's thoughts blackened. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened.
Maybe...it was time they stopped relying so much on Danny and his ghost powers. Danny had enough on his plate already.
Maybe it was time he did something.
Tucker had arrived at his presentation.
Danny tried not to let his gaze drift as he closed out the talk, but it was hard to ignore his one-time friend as he worked his way up to the front row of the auditorium.
Danny hadn't really taken a good look at Tuck, not since he'd grown up. Back a few months ago, when they'd temporarily teamed up to find Nathaniel in the Ghost Zone, Tucker had hardly been the center of Danny's focus.
But now, it was hard not to stare, just as he'd done earlier that day after spotting Tucker on the convention center floor.
He really had grown up. Tucker was still slender, and still sported the same nerd glasses and a beret, but he'd sprouted, probably a little above average height now, with his shoulders widening along the way. He wasn't going to take down any quarterbacks any time soon, but Tucker had filled out respectably. Dash probably couldn't stuff him in a locker anymore, that was for sure.
Danny coughed lightly, hiding a sudden laugh. Thankfully, the speech was over, and letting his mind wander wasn't the end of the world.
"Thanks again for coming. And to all the students attending, have a wonderful semester!" Applause followed him off the stage; it was a smaller auditorium, and the speech had been focused around a more in depth description of the technology that went into New Age Tech's universal adapter. Danny had spent months digging into nothing else, and as he took in the geeky crowd, part of him marveled at the fact that it was him they had come to see. Or Dimitri Mihailov, cousin to Vlad Masters, anyway.
Danny's eyes were drawn down again, as he headed toward the end of the stage. Tucker was keeping pace with him below, as he headed for the steps. His green eyes, always a striking feature in his dark face, unblinkingly stared up at him.
The same thought from earlier that day came again, stronger than before: this was no longer the skinny kid of his memory, who had died at fourteen.
Given his human identity, Danny traveled with a couple of body guards – they were completely unnecessary, but the general public expected it. As he came down the stairs, one of them blocked Tucker's path.
Tucker was still easily within speaking distance. "Nice speech, sorry I missed the start!" His voice sounded light hearted.
Danny nodded politely. "Thanks! I'm sure there will be a few youtube videos before long, knowing this crowd. You can catch the rest later, if you like." He continued on down the side aisle, Tucker tagging along. As they walked, Danny noted again how Tucker had grown - only a few inches separated them now. Tucker and his younger self had seemed like such shrimps, when he had first returned to the past a few years ago.
Tucker replied, completely ignoring his suggestion about youtubing the speech. "Mr. Mihailov, will you be staying in town for a while, or are you taking off right away?" Danny glanced over at the question, catching his eye this time, and had to hide his surprise at Tucker's doofy smile. The fury he'd seen coming from Tucker out on the convention floor was now completely hidden under a facade of hero worship.
Before he could respond to the question, Tucker rushed on. "Because, you see, it would be awesome if I could interview you. I have a part time job at the school newspaper here, and a speech is one thing, but having a one on one conversation to learn more about you and New Age Technologies would really give our readers something to dig into. Do you have time before you go?"
"I..." Danny glanced to the side. His bodyguards knew the schedule, and he was due on Vlad's private jet in an hour from now. And Tucker was obviously up to something. He knew the drill. He wasn't stupid enough to think Tucker was doing this to reconnect for old times sake. Heck, he probably had a Fenton thermos in that backpack of his, and planned to use it on him at the first opportunity.
And none of that mattered whatsoever.
"I can reschedule, actually." Danny glanced down at his watch. "Why don't you come over to my hotel? We can talk tech over a late lunch. Does that work for you?" He smiled politely; the young businessman willing to make time for good PR.
For an instant, he saw fear in Tucker's eyes. Then the over-eager student ready to learn from the pro was back. Tucker nodded vigorously. "Sounds awesome, thank you Mr. Mihailov!"
"You know what, I need to take care of a few things, and my laptop's upstairs. Do you mind ordering to my room?"
They had just entered the hotel lobby, and Danny watched carefully to see how his once-dead friend would respond.
Is that what you're after, Tucker? No witnesses?
Tucker raised his chin, still wearing that same over eager smile. He'd kept it up during the entire walk over. "Whatever works for you, Mr. Mihailov. You just lead the way!" His chest jutted out a little further, and Danny secretly wondered if Tucker wasn't channeling his dad Jack Fenton just a little.
Danny nodded, and waved a hand to dismiss his bodyguards, who had followed them in. Tucker didn't miss the motion, and with every step they took toward the elevators, that eager smile got a little more brittle.
On the ride up, any attempt at conversation ceased, and Danny silently wondered why he was doing this to himself. This wasn't going to be pretty. Plus, it had only been a few days since he'd gotten up the courage to visit Jazz, and that had gone...
Well, it could have gone a lot worse, even if he was already sweating over how their next meeting would go. But Tucker...? No. This was a setup, some kind of planned attack, a way to neutralize a threat.
And yet, here he was, giving him that opportunity.
The truth was, even hate was something, and Danny would take what he could get. It was better than being treated like the ghost he was.
Danny silently swiped the card to his hotel room, and held open the door, motioning Tucker ahead of him. As Tucker brushed past, he bent his arm abruptly, raising it to nearly brush Danny's abdomen...then he passed by, crossing his arms. Danny was left with the impression Tucker had been strongly tempted to elbow him in the gut.
You want to beat me up? Is that why you're here?
Danny sighed inwardly as the door latched closed behind them both, and a feeling of acceptance came over him. If Tucker wanted to punch him in the face a few times, so be it. He deserved it.
Danny cleared his throat, and went to the small dining table, which had three chairs, and pulled the hotel menu toward the chair opposite where he stood. "Feel free to order whatever you want, I'll cover it. Give me just a second..."
With that, he went to the built in desk on the opposite side of the room, opened his waiting laptop, and located the charter company's number with the plane he was going to miss. He dialed the number on his cell.
"Hi, this is Dimitri Mihailov, and I need to push back my charter flight to..." he glanced across the room, where Tucker had, surprisingly, sat down and was looking at the menu. "...tomorrow morning. How early can we leave?"
It took a few minutes to nail down a new time. Then he ended the call and, with a sinking feeling, dialed another number.
This call...wasn't strictly necessary. Danny was stalling for time. Plus, Tucker could probably hear his conversation even from across the room, and it would only tick him off more...
"Daniel?" Vlad's voice came over the line, curious. The call itself signified a change, since there was no reason to phone when he had planned to be back by dinner.
"Hey, change of plans. I...ran into somebody."
There was a pause, and Danny knew Vlad was thinking through every situation where that comment might apply. "...pray tell?"
"An...old friend." Danny hesitated, his eyes going to Tucker. "Tucker's attending MIT."
"Ah." Danny had to suppress a frown. For a single syllable, Vlad's reply said a lot. Vlad thought he was being stupid...
Big surprise, there. He was being stupid.
"Anyway, I'll be back in the morning, so don't wait up, old man."
Just the tiniest hint of worry came through. "I'm sure you know how clever that boy can be. Keep your eyes open, Daniel."
Oh...the irony. Danny pursed his lips, and couldn't help wonder what Tucker would think, if he could hear Vlad's protective words.
"Wish me luck, I guess. Bye, Vlad."
He could visualize the older man raising an eyebrow, as he ended the call.
Don't be surprised if I have a shiner the next time you see me, Vlad.
Danny pocketed his cell phone, and tried to be nonchalant as he walked back over to where Tucker sat, but it was clear Tucker had heard enough. He had dropped any pretense, eyeing him with undisguised suspicion and hatred.
Danny sat across from him, making a point to move slowly and calmly, even if he was inwardly amazed at the situation. There was no way this could turn out well...
And he still couldn't help it.
He'd known Tucker since kindergarten. He'd watched him die. Later, he had been convinced, even after the Nasty Burger explosion didn't kill everyone a second time, that what happened here, in this new past, wasn't...real. That his long lost family and friends were the walking dead, phantasms, less than ghosts.
Until the day he escaped the Fenton thermos, and visited Sam. That was when he'd finally started to realize his past had truly been changed...but not before he'd taken an unthinkable liberty with her. Sam had still been, in some twisted way, only a memory. The image of everything he'd never have, the future that might have been, stolen from him at fourteen. But his state of mind didn't change the fact that he'd had no right. Sam wasn't a phantasm. Neither was Tucker, or his younger self, or...Jazz.
He was still raw from their meeting at Yale a few days ago.
He'd done so much damage. If Tucker wanted to brow beat him, or just beat him, so be it. He'd even get him the bat. But even with the hate plain in Tucker's eyes, Danny couldn't help but...
Try.
He leaned forward just slightly, glancing toward the menu clenched in Tucker's fist, not missing the fact that Tucker's other hand was out of sight, under the table.
"See anything you want to order?"
Tucker seemed to consider for a moment. Then he caught Danny's eye, straightening slightly. "You know...I bet this place has great food, but for some reason I can't bring myself to eat a meal at a table with a rapist and a murderer."
Danny's gaze faltered, turning to the table, with its repeating tile patterns. He supposed the peach and white pastels were meant to be pleasant. They probably would be, any other time.
Each second burned, as Tucker's words lingered between them. Danny's throat had closed tight, while his mind noted how Tucker's hand was slowly warping the menu even further out of shape. When an air conditioning unit cut on, the sound seemed deafening in his ears...
Tucker finally broke the silence, in a voice full of loathing and low simmering fury. "And while we're on the topic of you, could you do me a favor and drop the disguise? You're not...Dimitri Mihailov. You're not even human. So just cut it out already, because you don't deserve to wear the face of my best friend."
For an instant, Danny nearly did as he asked, the urge to do anything he could to please him overriding common sense. But he pulled up short, as the instincts he'd honed over the last decade as a ghost kicked in, drawing his attention to the obvious: that Tucker's hand was still under the table. And, yes, Tucker was furious and on edge, but the way he sat was just unnatural enough, the timbre of his voice just anticipatory enough, that it was clear he wanted him to show his ghostly form.
He was probably recording this.
Danny cleared his throat, but his quiet voice still came out sounding like he'd downed a bottle of Jack Daniel's, roughened with emotion. "Let's...let's just talk like this, Tuck."
As soon as the nickname left his mouth, he cringed. Tucker's eyes grew wide with rage, and Danny found himself staring down at the table again.
It had just...slipped out. Because...
Because Tucker was here, sitting across from him, talking. And his mind was playing games, telling him this was something it wasn't - that Tucker returned the feelings Danny knew better than to express. After all, his heart whispered, Tucker might be furious, but a close friend could really let you have it sometimes when they thought there was something you needed to hear...
Except it was a fantasy. Tucker didn't sound betrayed, like Jazz had. He sounded disgusted, and protective of his real best friend, the living, breathing Danny Fenton. Yet, despite the truth, Danny couldn't stop a tender feeling, however exposed it left him, however foolish it was to pretend that Tucker saw anything in this meeting other than an opportunity to take him out...
A sense of gloom descended. He was being a fool.
Danny glanced up again with a tight jaw. It was time to stop.
"I think this..."
"You are one serious piece of work!"
Tucker had started speaking at the same moment, and Danny dropped off, falling silent, as Tucker plowed on.
"Do you actually...believe, after all the screwed up things you've done, that you're him? Well, you're not! Do you get that? You're just a crazy, creepy monster who has a few screwed up memories of his, and the truth is you don't care about anyone or anything except you, because if you did, you'd leave all of us alone!"
Danny sat, still as a rock, hands tightly pressed flat against the table, face a hard mask. The words struck deep, hitting something he'd had churning in his mind after seeing Sam again in Idaho. Because wasn't it selfish, asking Sam to be connected with him in any way, even if it was to direct the money he earned toward good causes? That was just his...his attempt to find a way back in, wasn't it?
At least with Jazz, he was honest about it. He'd reached out, seeking to reconnect with her as a sibling.
And after meeting with her, he knew Tucker was...right. He was being selfish, inflicting pain on those he claimed to love by insisting they see him, accept him, acknowledge him.
But was it all for his own ego? It was a question Danny had turned around for months on end. But that question aside, the next was always: could he really do good for the world, by growing a business empire as Vlad had done? How did he know he wouldn't end up doing more harm than good...?
And that answer to that had always been clear to him. Maybe the rest was true, maybe he was being selfish in trying to involve his old loved ones in his life, even in a minimal way. But he wasn't wrong to try and help the world. He wasn't wrong to build it up, instead of tearing it down, as he'd done in the other reality...
Danny's eyes jolted up, as Tucker shifted abruptly, going for his backpack. Tucker's movements were jerky, uncontrolled, and it took him two tries to yank open the zipper, his breathing coming in furious gasps. He stood abruptly, his phone clattering to the floor between them, the screen reflecting the ceiling...video recording their conversation.
Then Danny's heart rose to his throat, because the backpack was falling to the floor, and Tucker's hands were twisting open a Fenton Thermos...!
Danny leaped forward, putting a hand on the thermos, and they were suddenly inches apart, Danny staring with wide eyes as Tucker struggled, hardly able to budge the device now that Danny held it too, but still twisting and pulling, writhing with a determination that defied logic as his emotions overrode common sense.
Danny had never seen Tucker this mad before, in all their childhood.
Finally, Tucker stopped struggling, and just stared with eyes full of impotent rage. Words squeezed out from a mouth twisted into a painful scowl as Tucker's chest continued to rise and fall. His voice was breathless, as if he'd been punched in the gut.
"You want to...make...amends...?! Prove it...prove it, you freak..." Tucker broke off, the roughness in his voice belying how close he was to tears. His glare weakened, and he stared, instead, down at their hands, which nearly touched as they both gripped the thermos.
Tucker continued in a low plea laced with pain and fury. "Let go...if you want to really help, then let..." He yanked at it again, as hard as he could, "Go!"
Suddenly, Danny's mind conjured an image of Tucker throwing that Fenton thermos into the ocean, tossing it into the Ghost Zone...or maybe he'd catapult it into the sun, if he could manage it. And then he'd brush his hands, and never look back...
In that instant, Danny's actions weren't his own. His hand squeezed down on the thermos like a vice, deforming the metal until it was impossible to open. Tucker's eyes went wide, and he let go partway through the show of superhuman strength, his mouth falling slightly open.
For the first time since they had walked into the hotel, Danny saw real fear in his face...
And that was all it took. The bitter anger that wanted to claim his actions was doused, leaving sadness and regret...and shame.
Danny looked away, and held out the thermos, speaking in a voice that was gentle and low, and full of remorse.
"Here. Beat me with it, if it'll make you feel better."
Danny closed his eyes, and waited, letting his free arm fall to his side, hand open. When nothing changed after several moments, he found the courage to open his eyes again, and meet Tucker's gaze.
What he saw made his heart jolt. Tucker was barely holding it together, with eyes wide with fury, lips drawn back in a rictus of anguish.
Danny frowned sadly. Tucker didn't trust him, of course - probably couldn't trust him, with good reason. And maybe...trust would never come again.
"Here, take it. I'm serious. I deserve it. If you want to take a swing at me, I won't fight back, I promise."
Tucker seemed to melt down, as he spoke. His face was a mask of emotions; fury, pain...Danny saw him struggling with that same sense of injustice, of powerlessness in the face of something deeply wrong, just as he had done, after escaping from the Fenton thermos and realizing his younger double had the life he never would.
Tucker finally lashed out, batting the Fenton thermos out of Danny's loose grip, his lips drawn back in a bitter scowl, his chest still heaving with emotion. Suddenly Tucker gripped the front of Danny's shirt with both hands, shoving him backward, and Danny passively let him, stepping back. But Tucker stopped almost immediately, his hands two fists against his chest.
"What...do you...want?" Tucker shook his head violently, and repeated himself. "What?!"
Danny just swallowed, and shook his head slightly. He didn't know where to begin, not when staring into those eyes, the eyes of his best childhood friend, glittering with unshed tears, behind those semi-circle glasses he always wore.
Tucker continued, as if he hadn't expected an answer. "Why can't you leave them alone? If you really care so much, then do the right thing. I don't care where you go or what you do, but disappear. Better yet, let me record you dropping your disguise, and we can blow this wide open! Take Vlad down! Do the right thing and expose him! That's what Danny would do! You think you're him, right? Well let me clue you in! He wouldn't be working with Vlad Masters! Vlad wants Danny's dad dead! He wants to steal his mom away!"
Tucker snorted, and shoved at Danny one more time, before stepping back with a disgusted look. "Which is why I know you won't help me- because you're a fraud."
It almost felt like a challenge, the way he said it, and he might have been proud if it didn't hurt so much. Tucker was smart. He was trying to push his buttons, trying to dig for anything he could get. Not because Tucker saw him as Danny...but maybe, just maybe, Tucker was starting to realize that the ghost standing from of him at least sincerely believed he was Danny.
And, maybe because Tucker was attacking Vlad, Danny found words coming to him.
"There was this time..." He hesitated for an instant, but the words wanted to be spoken, even though it felt like the scab from an old, old wound was being slowly pulled off. "I was...bathing. Except, well, I wasn't. I was..." Danny's eyes went to the floor, face tightening. "I was trying to drown. See...Vlad had this huge tub, more like a swimming pool, and I...just...realized one day that I could start it draining, and if I took a sleeping pill before...then maybe I'd get stuck at the bottom. There was this crazy news story...but the point is, it happens, you know? People die getting stuck in the drain at public pools sometimes. So I thought, heck, if I was out of it enough, like really comatose, my survival instincts wouldn't kick in, and I'd just...drown in my sleep."
Danny glanced to the side, eyes narrowing as he shook his head slightly. His muscles were burning from all the tension he held, and shame coursed through him at openly admitting to just how low he had been, to do something like that. "Which was stupid. It probably wouldn't even have worked..."
He managed to look up again, but couldn't quite meet Tucker's eyes. A tiny, ironic smile reached his face, as he made his point. "But Vlad got to me, so I'll never know. And you know what's crazy? He didn't think to go ghost. He just freaked out, panicked...dove in with his shoes on in a pretty freaking expensive business suit, I'm sure...and yanked me up. Spent the next, I don't know...twenty minutes berating me while massaging the water out of my lungs. And he..."
Danny's voice shook just slightly, and he snorted softly in a poor attempt to cover it. "He was...crying, Tucker. I was...deteriorating in front of him, and he couldn't...he wasn't enough. So. So...all I'm saying is, maybe...maybe it's more complicated, you know? The fact that I'm staying with him now. I mean...think about it. He's a billionaire and a halfa, but somehow despite that, my d...Jack Fenton is still alive and well..." Danny paused, belatedly realizing how incredible it was that Tucker hadn't cut him off already, and really looked Tucker in the face.
He was met with narrowed eyes, and a strangely closed down expression.
Then it clicked, and Danny glanced to the floor, where the phone's screen had gone dark, seemingly benign.
Danny frowned, and a bitter edge crept into his voice.
"Aaaand you aren't really listening, are you? You're just focused on the words halfa and ghost, and how you can edit this into something that would damage me and Vlad. Right? You're just letting me yak, yak yak...never mind that I'm spilling a secret I've never shared with anyone before, talking about one of the darkest points in my life...yeah, that doesn't mean a thing."
His voice sharpened abruptly. "Remember when you confessed to accidentally killing my pet gerbil in the second grade, Tuck?" Danny put a hand to his own chest. "I'm that person. I experienced that conversation. Remember how I held a little burial ceremony for it, and didn't want to leave the house for two weeks? Well just think if that gerbil had been everyone I cared about. Can you just...try, for a minute? Maybe I'm not...your Danny. But I am Danny. And..."
He frowned darkly, grasping at what he could say that might get through. "I - I went nuts, okay? I was a straight up, total, complete nutcase when I came back in time! When I came here, I...the thing is, I didn't even see you, Tucker, not really. You, all of you...you were dead," his voice caught, but he pushed on, "in the ground, and all I was seeing were bitter, painful memories, reminders of my ultimate fate..." Danny swallowed, shocked at what he was saying, but it felt cathartic, and it felt like he couldn't stop, even if he wanted to. "...and I wanted to hurt me, I wanted to hurt that kid I used to be who could still smile at life, who didn't have a clue what waited for him, because he reminded me of what I used to have, and him being that happy just made it so much worse when the inevitable finally happened, and I hated him for doing that to me, I hated him for not knowing, and...and that's...that's nuts! I was honestly cra..."
Tucker's quiet, nerve riddled voice cut in. He sounded strung out; a person who had been on an adrenalin rush for way too long. "Yeah. Y-yeah, that is nuts, and I think I'm done. Keep the thermos. I'm out of here. Don't say hi to Vlad for me."
Danny stared, taken aback and unable to form a reply as Tucker bent to retrieve his phone, silently pocketing it with a hand that subtly trembled. His face was a closed book, expressionless, except for slightly thin lips and a tight jaw. Then he caught up his backpack, and headed for the door.
As the door closed behind his once-dead friend, Danny was left feeling strangely hollow, utterly drained. He knew he ought to take Tucker's phone and destroy it, but he couldn't bring himself to follow.
.
.
Author's Note: I'm so happy to be picking this up again! WEEEE! Probably no one is reading anymore but I CARE NOT! I am the Box...um, no, nevermind.