Crud.

This had been a bad idea.

He didn't know what he was doing. This was a bad idea. He shouldn't have left until he had a plan. He knew his leaving would put the others in danger, and now he didn't even have a good place to hide. What had he been thinking? He didn't have the energy to run very far or very fast, and he needed to move. He'd been so stupid. When he got recaptured, things would just be that much worse—

Danny coughed.

A few steps later, he coughed again.

As realization dawned, cold fear wasn't the only thing clawing at his throat.

No. This was bad. This was very bad. He couldn't do this now. It left him exhausted at the best of times, and it's not like he had his phone to call Sam or Tucker despite the danger it would put them in, and—

Danny choked and staggered up the street. He was too exposed. Couldn't do this here. There might be cameras. Or the shifter. Couldn't risk anyone seeing.

He was gasping, unable to draw air.

He stumbled through an empty parking lot, trying to make it to the dumpster on the far side.

Any cover was better than this.

The coughing continued and turned into choked heaves.

He couldn't breathe.

Danny fell to his knees in the shadow of the dumpster, retching and heaving and just trying to get it out—

Darkness.

More darkness.

Danny couldn't tell what it was anymore. Outside his head, inside his head, out of his mouth or always there or just from the spots swirling in front his eyes….

"Hey, kid."

Danny groaned. He could breathe again. Was it really over? Had it stopped? His jaw hurt, and his throat was raw, but all of that could have been from before, so maybe—?

"Kid. Wake up."

A boot toed his side. Gently, thankfully. Danny rolled onto his back—again, he couldn't remember lying down—and opened his eyes, staring up at the night sky.

At the edge of his vision, he could see a blackness deeper than the rest of the night.

He blinked.

It didn't go away.

"You gonna be okay?" the voice asked again, and Danny turned his head slightly. After a split second, the boy's smudged face resolved into that of a rather sickly-looking teenager, someone closer to Jazz's age than his.

"I dunno." He still ached all over, he was still exhausted, and hungry and thirsty and whatever else, but he wasn't…. He didn't think he felt as bad as he should feel, given that he'd been kidnapped for— Was this really only the second night he'd been gone? Had it only been twenty-four hours? Maybe even less?

"You okay enough to help my girlfriend?"

Danny wasn't sure he felt okay enough to sit up yet. "No?"

He heard a whistle and then something that was undoubtedly a command: "Shadow, help me with him."

It was a sign of how much he'd been through by now that Danny didn't scream when the darkness moved and curled around him. He leaned into it, letting it lift him off the ground and deposit him in a standing position. He staggered, and the shadow returned to steady him. He wasn't sure if the face he thought he saw grinning up at him was imagined. Hallucinating at this point might be normal, right?

The nearest streetlight flickered out.

Yup, perfectly normal.

"You're doing better now, right?" the teen pressed, despite vast evidence to the contrary. Danny hadn't thought anyone could look anxious while lounging against a motorcycle, but this guy managed it. "I miss my girl."

"I can't…." He didn't have time for this. He needed to hide. He moved his arms, his shoulders, in something that might be construed as a shrug by the generous. "I don't have time to help you look for her. I've gotta…. I need to go."

"No, no, you can't go!"

One cold hand wrapped around Danny's arm, and he suddenly realized what he hadn't before.

"She's stuck on the other side. If I can't get back to her right now, I need her over here."

Danny stared at him. Part of him wanted to cry, but he felt too worn out to do even that. Just…. Couldn't he catch a break?

"I'm Johnny, Johnny 13, that's Shadow, and Kitty…. She's the best girl, my Kitty. You can't separate us like this."

"I can't…. I can't do this right now." Danny tried to shove at the shadow and pull away, but it tightened around him again, still substantial in a way it shouldn't be substantial.

"Look, I'll help you," Johnny said. "You said you need to go somewhere, right? I'll take you there. And you can repay me for the ride by getting my girl to me."

"I don't…." Maybe flat out refusing to help a ghost when the ghost's friend—or pet ghost or whatever Shadow was—had him in what could very easily become a stranglehold was a bad idea. "I can't right away." He wasn't sure he could help later, wasn't sure he'd want to help later, but later was better than now. "Someone's hunting me down." If he'd been thinking more clearly, he might not have put it that bluntly, but it was too late now. "I need to hide from them and figure out a way to help my friends and family."

Danny saw Johnny's eyes flick down to the cuffs still visible on his wrists—Shadow had avoided covering them—and nod. "I'll help you. In exchange for being with my girl."

"I…." Agreeing and not being able to deliver would just make his situation worse. "I can't promise anything beyond trying." That was safe enough, right? Not that he wanted to try, exactly, but….

"Climb on, kid." Johnny moved aside, and Shadow pushed Danny forward. He stumbled, and the older teen—ghost—helped him onto his motorcycle.

Danny was rather glad he didn't remember that coming through.

His perch on the motorcycle in front of Johnny wasn't precarious, but Danny didn't have a helmet, and he'd survived too many years of his dad's driving to not really regret that. Also seat belts. And, frankly, being able to hold onto something properly.

He used to think he'd love to own his own motorcycle.

He was fairly sure he still would, but he was absolutely sure that he hated the fact that he wasn't in control of this particular ride.

"Where are we headed?" Johnny yelled in his ear as they sped down the street. Danny had had him turn left, away from the docks, but now….

Now, it was very evident that he didn't have a plan.

"I…I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know! I need to hide, but I don't know where!"

Silence but for the roar of the motorcycle and the wind.

"Been a while since I've been through here," Johnny said at last. "The public library. That still the same building?"

Danny had absolutely no idea. Jazz practically lived there, but the only library he went to was the school one, and he only went there when he had to. "Maybe?"

"We'll risk it."

Johnny took a sharp turn and then pulled back on the handlebars. Danny shrieked as the motorcycle lifted into the air and he was thrown back against Johnny. He scrambled for what handhold he could, but with his hands still cuffed—

The motorcycle hovered in the air. By this point, Danny didn't know whether it could do that because of Shadow or because Johnny 13 was a ghost and he could just do that. Right now, Danny didn't really care. He was much more preoccupied by the fact that this skyward detour made it more likely that the shifter would track him down sooner rather than later. A flying motorcycle wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

"Why'd you do that?" Danny hissed, and Johnny jabbed a finger into his shoulder and then pointed. It took Danny a moment to get his bearings and realize that, yes, that was the flag that flew over the public library. "Yeah, that's still the library, but wh—?"

He didn't get a chance to finish before they were suddenly plummeting towards the earth again.

It was not like a roller coaster.

It would have been so much better if it had been like a roller coaster.

As it was, Danny probably would've flown clean off the motorcycle if Johnny hadn't wrapped one arm around him just as the plunge started.

If Johnny hadn't kept his arm around Danny's middle, he might've tried to jump off anyway once it became painfully clear that they were headed for the library and Johnny wasn't about to slow down.

The motorcycle was moving entirely too quickly toward the stone wall of the corner lot building, something that was solid brick at the base with windows higher up, and Danny hoped fervently that his assumptions about ghosts and their powers weren't wrong.

And then he remembered what Sidney had told him.

"I can't go through the wall!" he screamed, and some distant part of his mind was aware that that wouldn't be enough. Of course Johnny would think that Danny thought he couldn't go through a wall. He wasn't a ghost, after all. He wouldn't be used to that kind of thing. "These handcuffs are immune to a ghost's ability to do that!" Would that make sense? He didn't really have time to try again. "Let me off!"

Danny's panic continued, and it got less intelligible, but Johnny swerved the motorcycle before they hit the wall anyway. Not that Danny saw him do that. He had his eyes closed by that point, busy babbling and praying to whoever would listen to let him keep the use of his hands after the handcuffs were ripped off of him.

When Danny did open his eyes, it was to tire tracks burnt onto brick. The imagined flip must not have been so imagined after all. His stomach turned just thinking of what had nearly happened, and he leaned to one side and heaved. Bile burned its way up his throat. Johnny yelped, and the bike's shadow shifted out of the way as stomach acid dribbled from Danny's mouth.

"I'm sorry," he managed, coughing and trying to spit the last of it free. "I…. I just…." Another heave, this time dry. He sucked in a shuddering lungful of air. He was shaking. When had he started shaking?

"Easy there, kid." Johnny patted him awkwardly on the back. "You're fine."

"You don't need to keep calling me a kid, you know," Danny said finally. He kept his gaze firmly on the ground, just in case his stomach decided it wasn't done. "I'm only a couple of years younger than you are."

"That's what you think?"

"Pretty sure I'm not wrong." He was starting to feel better now, so Danny tried to wipe his mouth on his shoulder—it was dirty already anyway—before twisting around to face Johnny. "Look, I appreciate the ride, and I get that you miss your girlfriend, but I've got some stuff I need to deal with before I can help you."

"Starting with those, right?" Johnny asked, pointing at the cuffs. Danny hesitated and then nodded; his family and friends were more important, but he couldn't really do anything if he couldn't even use his hands. "Pull up a clean patch of grass. I'll teach you how to get out of those."

"Um…."

"Unless you want to keep them on. Just seems like it might be a necessary life skill for you, from what I've seen. But you can leave them on. I don't have to show you the spot Kitty and I would sneak off to, even if it would be a nice place to cool your heels and hide out."

Danny blinked. "Wait. You two—? In the library?" He glanced down at the handcuffs. "Oh, man, I did not need to know that. I think I would rather that you knew how to get out of these for criminal reasons."

Johnny grinned at him and pulled a paperclip out of his pocket. "Never said I didn't, kid. Now, if you've got a thin bit of metal on you, you can do it the easy way…."

It was…nice, taking the time to breathe. To stop and do this, even with everything he had hanging over his head. And, well, it was really nice to get the full use of his arms back once Johnny had freed him.

Danny was taking full advantage of being able to stretch again, knitting his fingers together and pushing them skyward and then pulling them apart and rolling his shoulders and thrusting his hands behind his back—

He had really taken this for granted before.

He was not going to forget how good this felt. He wasn't going to let the shifter ghost get the better of him again, either. He'd bury the cuffs—couldn't just pocket them if he was going to let Johnny pull him through the wall, and he wasn't about to throw them out in case he needed them later—and then he could figure out how to get a message to his family and friends, something that only they'd understand in case the shifter intercepted it, and—

"Danny?"

That was Jazz's voice.

"What are you doing here?"

He didn't know if it really was Jazz.

"I thought…. We thought…. Oh, little brother, are you okay?"

It sounded like Jazz.

And the person who rushed towards him and wrapped him in a hug certainly looked and felt and smelled like her, too.

Danny tried to twist in her grip, to see if Johnny had vanished like Sidney had earlier. He caught sight of the ghost leaning against his motorcycle again, arms folded as he watched their reunion. Assuming it really was a reunion. There was no attempt to knock him out this time, but they weren't alone, either, and—

Danny finally pushed Jazz away, ignoring the hurt expression on her face. "I need to go," he said. "I'll explain later." He couldn't afford to make a mistake and tell the shifter his plan. Not that he really had a plan. If this was the ghost who had kidnapped him, the cat was already out of the bag. But that didn't mean he had to make it even easier for them.

"What's going on?"

"I said I'll explain later."

"But…." She was shaking her head. "No, seriously, Danny. Look at you. You look awful. And you smell."

Maybe it really was Jazz.

"Ghosts are real," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Look, little brother—"

"What's the name of your stuffed lion?"

She blinked. "Did you hit your head?"

He couldn't tell if she was avoiding the question.

"I know this sounds weird, but if you answer me, I'll explain now instead of later."

"Danny, you're scaring me."

"Please, Jazz. Your stuffed lion?"

"I don't have a stuffed lion. I have a stuffed bear. You know that. He's called Bearbert Einstein for a reason. Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

Danny let out a sigh of relief and turned to Johnny. "She's safe. I'm sure of it. Can we take her, too?"

Johnny smirked. "We can make room."

"Wait, who's—?"

But Danny had already tossed the Fenton Cuffs into the bushes, grabbed Jazz's hand with his left, and reached for Johnny with his right. He tugged Jazz forward, trying to shush her even as she ignored him and tried to pull away. Instead of taking his hand, Johnny nodded towards his motorcycle, and Danny put a hand on it instead as Johnny climbed on and started it up.

"Danny," Jazz hissed, still twisting her arm in an attempt to escape his grip, "what the heck is going on?"

"It'll be easier to explain if you come with us," he said, and she huffed but stopped fighting him.

At least, she stopped fighting him until it became all too clear that Johnny—for all that the motorcycle was moving forward slowly enough that Danny could keep pace with it while walking—was heading for the wall.

"What—?"

Danny shushed her again, adding a kick for good measure. Jazz paused long enough to kick him back, and then Danny felt that…that feeling wash over him. Not cold, exactly. Light, maybe. Detached. Distant.

Johnny's motorcycle passed through stone.

Still walking, one hand still on the motorcycle and the other keeping a death grip on Jazz, Danny followed, dragging his sister with him.