Chapter Two: History Repeats

"I wouldn't exactly have chosen madness if there had been a choice." - Vincent Van Gogh

This year isn't any different.

When I duplicate myself, I can sense what's going on around my copies. I can also sense when those copies vanish. The first time I tried to send out a copy to fight in my place, Skulker annihilated the thing and flew around town, looking for the real me. Okay, I thought. I'll sneak out of school and deal with him myself. It'll be a one-time thing and I'll train my copies a little more and everything will be fine.

Except that nothing is fine. Every time I make my copy fight for me, it gets destroyed and I have to leave school to deal with the problem myself. One time, I tried sending out three copies at once, the maximum amount I can make at a time, thinking that safety in numbers was the answer. When I blacked out during English class and woke up in the nurse's office, I decided not to try that again. Another time, I tried to ignore the rampaging blob ghost outside, but the harsh thrumming of my core was more of a distraction than the ghost itself.

We're only a month into the school year. Will things slow down soon, or will they get worse from here?

I promised to be a better student. I never break my promises, yet here we are.

I really thought the Duplication tactic would work.

"Danny."

What am I doing wrong?

"Danny."

It's not like I can go to Vlad for help. The old fruit loop would just gloat about how I came to him for aid and throw in some rude remark about my dad and-

"Danny."

Mom's stern voice brings back to the here and now. The "here" is our living room, where I am slumped forward on the couch while my parents stand before me. The "now" is my folks scolding me for cutting class and being late and my barely maintained C average.

"Danny, are you listening to me?" Mom asks.

I lower my head, shame wafting over me. I've disappointed them again, but not half as much as I've disappointed myself.

Mom sighs. "Danny, you promised you would stop cutting class and everything. And yet, how many calls have we gotten from your school?"

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. I don't know if I'm apologizing to them or me.

"'Sorry' doesn't get your grades up," Dad scolds. "You're a Fenton. We get solid B minuses. No less."

"And, we arrive at school on time and stay there the whole day." I picture Mom giving Dad a side-eye.

"Yeah, that too," Dad agrees.

I still can't look at them.

Suddenly, they sit on either side of me. Changing tactics? As long as there are bad guys to fight and a town to protect and copies that don't work the way I want them to, nothing my parents try is going to help me.

"Sweetheart," Mom says gently, "what is your goal? You want to be an astronaut, don't you?"

All I can do is nod.

"Well, you'll need a lot of education to get into NASA."

"Your mother's right, son," Dad says. "Imagine if Lance Armstrong didn't go to school. He would never have been the first man on the moon."

"Neil Armstrong," I correct automatically.

"Right. That guy," Dad says. "You need to do well in school if you want to be like him. Play your cards right, and maybe you'll be the first man on Mars! You could be shaking hands with Martians! Wouldn't that be something?"

I can't help but smile at the thought.

Mom rests her hand on my knee and squeezes. "Exactly. Now, let's see you turn things around so that you can one day shake hands with Martians."

"Okay," I say because what else can I say?

They let me go up to my room so I can do my homework. I don't let them see that every footstep is a chore. Mom and Dad thought that bringing up my dream of exploring the galaxy would motivate me. Instead, it only hammered home the idea that such a thing will never, ever happen. Not just because of my grades, but because I'm a ghost with an Obsession with helping people. If a ghost goes too long without satisfying their Obsession, they'll go to extreme lengths to soothe their core. It's like an addict desperate for a hit. Even if I do become an astronaut, even if I do get to take off in a rocket, my ghost-half would become manic eventually, and who knows what would happen? Even if I just went ghost and flew into space myself, I would have to come back to Earth at some point because who would I help in space?

My dream died with me. I've known that for a while, but it never really sunk in until now.

I walk into my room, close the door behind me, and look around. NASA posters, pictures of constellations, and a map of the solar system decorate my walls. On my nightstand sits a small model of Saturn - my favorite planet because of the rings, no relation to my ghostly transformation - and a tiny nondescript astronaut giving a salute beside it. There are glow-in-the-dark star stickers all over my ceiling. I remember Dad lifting me up so I could stick them there myself when I was six years old.

Space stuff everywhere. I don't want to look at it, to be reminded of what could have been.

With tears in my eyes, I grab the nearest poster and tear it off the wall. I do the same with another and another, going around the room. As I remove the offending decor, I can't help wishing that Jazz was here. My sister always knows how to make me feel better. But, she's having a study session with her friends and won't be back until tonight. She's in college at Amity University, right here in town, so she's close enough that she still lives with me and our parents. With her grades, she could go to any school she wants, yet she chose to stay here. She claims that she picked Amity because she wouldn't have to pay for a dorm and it's a good school anyway.

I think she wants to stay home so she can keep looking out for me. I don't have the guts to ask her about it, but I feel like she's making sacrifices for me.

She's always making sacrifices for me.

Ecto-energy forms in my hands, burning up the crumpled posters I'd been holding. I continue my path until all the posters are torn off and burned to ashes. In the back of my mind, I know I'll probably regret doing this later, but right now it feels good. I turn to grab my astronaut figure-

-and jump back when I catch a glimpse of myself in my full-length mirror. I drop the figurine and run up to the mirror. I look closely at my face, specifically at my eyes, which are the soft blue they've always been. It must have been a trick of the light or my own depressed mindset or a combination of the two.

There is no way my eyes had actually turned black.

The next day at school, I try to put on a brave face, but my friends see right through it and ambush me at my locker.

"You okay, dude?" Tucker asks me as I pull out my math book for third period.

"Yes," I say on instinct. Then, my Ghost Sense goes off. "No," I groan.

The three of us scan the area, listen for the usual chaos that follows a ghost attack. When nothing happens, I close my locker and pray that nothing will keep happening.

Sam returns to the matter at hand. "So, I guess …that tactic still isn't working for you, huh?"

"Nope," I say. "I got the usual lecture from my parents last night. I can't stop thinking about it. I-I really thought this year would be different." I have to stop because my throat is getting tight. My mind is full of disappointed tones and destroyed memorabilia, of the raw sadness I'd felt when I saw how bare my room looked, of the shock then worry on Jazz's face when she saw it and I refused to tell her where all my space stuff went.

Sam puts a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "We'll find something that works, Danny."

Ghost Sense again. Still nothing out of the ordinary, but we do spot Ms. Mae entering her room in a hurry.

"That reminds me," Tucker says. "Any word on whether…you-know-who is a you-know-what?"

"Still inconclusive," I say, grateful for the change in subject. "And, you guys still haven't noticed anything?"

"Not really. She seems pretty cool." Sam purses her lips. "Well, cool for a teacher."

Tucker shrugs. "She just seems like a garden-variety nice teacher. Albeit, one with a spine."

"Yeah, she does," I say thoughtfully. Maybe we're wrong, and she's perfectly human. Or, she is a ghost but just wants to teach here for some reason. Or, she's a ghost with an elaborate plan. Can't rule that out.

We put a pause on our discussion so we aren't late for class. The rest of the day is blissfully uneventful. Then, when the final bell rings, Ms. Mae stops me as I'm walking out. I haven't done anything to warrant detention today and I actually got the homework done, so what's the deal? Once it's just us, Ms. Mae tells me to close the door, which is even weirder. I do so despite my reservations and approach her.

She folds her hands on her desk with a concerned frown. "Danny, are you okay?"

Whatever I was expecting, that wasn't it. "Uh, excuse me?"

She shrugs. "You just…don't seem very okay."

I remember how my Ghost Sense went off twice earlier and how she seemed to rush into her classroom. Had she been listening? How much did she hear? My friends and I are very careful about what we say in public, but that doesn't mean she couldn't have put two and two together. Does she suspect something? Or, is she a human being and I'm just really paranoid?

When I don't answer, Ms. Mae says kindly, "Let me remind you that you are my student. And, because you are my student, I care about more than just your education."

"Do you, now?" I say.

I must have sounded more bitter than I meant to, because Ms. Mae frowns deeper. "Of course. Teachers look out for their students, Danny. Is that so weird?"

I flashback to a surprisingly pleasant study session with Mr. Lancer in my freshman year and smile. "I guess not."

Ms. Mae relaxes at my answer. "Do you have time, or do you need to catch the bus?"

"I usually walk home." Walk, fly. Potato, potahto.

"In that case, spare me a moment. Obviously, something is wrong. I've been teaching long enough to know the difference between a bad student and a cry for help."

"I'm not crying for help."

"You know what I mean. On the first day of school, you said you'd be a good student, and you seem to be breaking that promise quite a bit. Danny Fenton, let me remind you that you can talk to me. Even if you don't think I can help you."

My brain goes numb, and the back of my head itches. The feeling is familiar. "It's, uh…complicated."

"I don't doubt it." Ms. Mae looks away thoughtfully then seems to come to some decision. "You know, when I was younger, something happened that wasn't my fault, yet I was punished harshly because of it. That's why I try to hear out my students before I jump to any conclusions."

I wonder what happened. I also wonder if "I was punished harshly" is code for "someone killed me." The itch intensifies, spreading up my skull, which is still filled with fog. "I mean, it's-it's kind of my fault, but it's- Or, maybe it's not? I-I really don't know."

Why did I say that? Why do I want to tell her more, to come clean about my duties as Amity Park's protector?

She's doing this, I realize. It's the same thing she did to my parents and the principal and maybe Dash on the first day of school.

"I want to help you, Danny," she says, sounding like she means it. "Tell me what's going on with you."

The words are on the tip of my tongue. I'm Danny Phantom. I'll never be an astronaut because of my Obsession. I'm a huge disappointment to my parents. I lie to them every day because I'm terrified of what they'll do if they find out I'm a ghost.

Don't speak. Fight it, Danny, fight it.

The feeling in my head grows into a pressure so intense that spots coat my vision. A loud buzz fills my ears. My brain is trying to break my skull open. I think I slap my hands over my head. I think I bend over and moan or scream or sob.

"Danny! Danny!" Ms. Mae shouts.

The pain is gone as quickly as it appeared. Sweating, panting, and shaking all over, I slowly stand back up. Ms. Mae is standing with her hands braced on her desk, eyes wide in horror and…guilt?

"Danny, are you alright?" she asks frantically.

She's a ghost. I need to get out of here. "I'm fine. I, uh, I have to catch the bus."

I hightail it out of there, see no one in the hall, and press myself against a locker. I turn invisible and observe Ms. Mae, if that really is her name, as she appears in the doorway and calls my name. She looks down both ends of the hall with her teeth gritted. When she receives no response, she groans and puts her head in her hands.

As she re-enters her classroom, I can barely hear her mumble, "His parents are ghost hunters. Of course, he's hyper-sensitive. He's probably contaminated out the wazoo!"

Hyper-sensitive?

I ponder this as I sneak past, not turning visible until I'm far from her room. Are some people more affected by her powers than others? And, what about my parents and my being "contaminated?" Is she talking about ecto-contamination? Are ghosts more susceptible? Is that why it hurts me but doesn't seem to bother anyone else?

And, her reaction. She could have been faking remorse to my face, but she didn't know I was standing by her door when I left. She had no reason to fake it then, so…was it genuine? Maybe she's not a bad ghost at all.

I need answers. I doubt she would confess to a human, but what about another ghost?

Wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost walk right past Sam and Tucker. We were supposed to hit the Nasty Burger today, but I no longer have an appetite.

"There you are," Sam says.

Tucker frowns. "You good, dude? You've got that thinking-look."

"Oh, I'm thinking," I say. I fill them in on what just happened with Ms. Mae, keeping my voice down though the courtyard is empty.

"So, she's definitely a ghost?" Sam asks.

"Definitely," I confirm. "It felt like someone was trying to cut open my skull. With a spoon! No human could have done that just by sitting there."

Tucker slumps forward and whines, "But, she's hot…"

Sam elbows him hard in the ribs then asks, "So, what's the plan?"

"Besides taking me to a hospital," Tucker moans, pressing his hands to his side.

I ignore him. "Tomorrow after school, I'm gonna confront her. As Phantom. She might be more willing to talk to another ghost."

The next day is ghost-free besides a certain someone. In homeroom, Ms. Mae asked me if I was feeling alright after yesterday, and I mumbled an excuse about frequent migraines. I could tell she didn't buy it, but she didn't question it either. She couldn't without blowing her cover.

Once school lets out for the day, I sneak around the side of the building to transform. Ice-cold rings appear around my torso and spread up and down my body. When they vanish, I'm left with an ethereal glow and a black jumpsuit. I peek into windows until I find Ms. Mae's room. She sits at her desk, grading papers or something, unaware of my presence.

I make myself known by phasing through the wall and levitating in front of her desk. She's so absorbed in her work that she doesn't notice until I clear my throat. She glances up at me and doubletakes, almost falling out of her chair in shock.

"Oh, uh, hi," she stammers. "You're-you're Danny Phantom, right? What are you doing here?"

She's not bad, I remind myself. At least, I don't think she is. "Relax, lady. I'm not gonna hurt you. But, I saw what you did to the Fenton-kid, and I was hoping you could explain a few things."

Ms. Mae slouches in defeat. "You saw that, huh? She knew this would happen eventually."

"She? Who's 'she?'" I ask, caught off-guard. "You mean, you're not a ghost?"

Ms. Mae hums thoughtfully. "Not in the sense that you're thinking."

"What does that mean? Wait, are you…a halfa?" A ghost-hybrid, like me. An exceedingly rare species. Having a fellow halfa as a teacher might be kind of cool if she's as nice as she appears.

But, Ms. Mae shakes her head. "Oh, no. Definitely not. Look, it's probably better if you hear all this from the source." She points to the ceiling. "She's on the roof. She perches up there after school to make sure the students get where they're going safely. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a task to perform."

That's a weird way of saying, "I have papers to grade."

I take her advice and fly to the roof, phasing my way through the foundation. Once I'm up there, I spot a feminine ghost perched at the edge of the roof, observing the courtyard just as Ms. Mae said she'd be. The ghost wears a gray short-sleeved gown that's tattered at the bottom. Since she is floating and the gown is just that long, I assume she has no legs. Her straight black hair hangs past her butt and sways as if caught in a perpetual breeze. Her white (not caucasian) arms are behind her, her hands locked casually together. She's so thin that she would be in serious danger if she were human.

I approach with caution, just in case she isn't as calm as Ms. Mae. "Excuse me," I say. The ghost flinches, startled. "Uh, Ms. Mae sent me here. She said you could give me some answers?"

The ghost slowly turns around, revealing a gaunt face with bright red eyes that lack any other color. She sighs through her nose, resigned. "Danny Phantom. So, you've finally found me." I'm surprised to hear that she has the same voice as Ms. Mae, though hers carries the barely perceptible echo that all ghost voices have. "When I found out this was the town you looked after, I knew you'd find me sooner or later."

I'm not surprised that she knows who I am. Even without my notoriety in this town, I'm a bit of a conversation starter in the Ghost Zone and not just because I'm a halfa. "I don't want any trouble," I assure. "I just want to talk."

The ghosts accepts my response and gestures for me to stand next to her. When I walk up to the ledge, I notice that, even without her floating, she's at least six inches taller than me.

"So, you know who I am," I say. "Who are you?"

"Eileen Merryweather," the ghost says. "That's the name I was born with, and I saw no reason to change it when I died."

So, she's a spirit, a ghost who was previously alive. "And, you're here because…?"

Eileen gazes down at the courtyard with a content smile as she watches everyone board their buses or head to their cars. "I taught in a one-room schoolhouse when I was alive, and I absolutely adored my job. When I died, teaching became my Obsession. I started out teaching demons about Earth and showing newly-formed spirits how to get by in the Ghost Zone, but I missed my old life. I knew I couldn't just go back to it, but I did eventually learn how to take on a human persona. Once I had it perfected, I found my way back to Earth. I stay at a school for a few decades then move on to another one, changing my name and appearance to avoid suspicion."

I hadn't expected her to be so forthcoming right out of the gate. I process her story. Teaching at a one-room schoolhouse would mean she died in, what, the sixteen-hundreds? "Sounds like you've been at this for a while."

Eileen huffs a laugh. "That's an understatement. I've had all kinds of faces and made up all kinds of names. Joanna French, Tracy Smith, Susan B. Anthony-"

"Susan B. Anthony?" Boy, Sam will get a kick out of this.

Eileen chuckles. "Yeah, that was a fun time."

I have a million more questions than I started with, but first things first. "So, where does Ms. Mae fit into all this?"

Eileen smirks. "You haven't figured it out yet?" A white light spreads over her. Her body shrinks down a few inches, and her dress morphs into a pair of legs. When the light fades, my speech fades with it. Ms. Mae turns toward me with a cheeky grin, an extended hand and a normal human voice. "Francesca Mae. Nice to meet you."

When I can speak again, the words come out in spurts. "You? You're- But- But, she's… I-I just saw Ms. Mae in her classroom!"

"What you saw was a copy of me." Eileen returns to her ghostly form. "Changing forms isn't the only thing I can do."

She can use Duplication? "But-but, that you was so…conscious! It was like talking to a regular person!" I think about my own failed attempts at making sentient copies, and jealousy burns in my chest.

"Well, I've had plenty of time to get good at it," Eileen says modestly, her hands on her hips. "It's handy when I do things like this," she sticks her hand out toward the courtyard, which is almost empty by now. "Or, when I want to, say, avoid particularly annoying people during parent-teacher conferences. And, I always retain my copies' memories when I'm through with them, so no harm done."

For my own sake, I don't comment on that. "What about…the Fenton-kid? I happened to be passing by and he looked like he was in a lot of pain."

Eileen sighs heavily and rests a hand over her face. "Oh, Danny. Danny Fenton, not you." I don't comment on that either. "He's proving to be an interesting case."

How should I take that? "What do you mean?"

"Something is going on with that boy. On the first day of school he- You don't mind me going on about this, do you?"

I raise my hands. "Vent all you want, lady. I didn't think you'd be nearly this open with me." That and I want to know why I'm such an "interesting case."

Eileen shrugs. "I just figure honesty is the best policy when you're useless in a fight and you're talking to someone who isn't."

I can't help but laugh. "Fair enough. But, I already told you I don't want to hurt you. So far, I'm not finding a reason to, anyway." It's true. She genuinely seems like she means no harm. A cynical part of me wonders if she's just that good an actress, but that part is pretty small.

Eileen sighs again, this time with relief. "Thank you. Now, back to Danny. First off, how much do you know about Compulsion?"

Compulsion? Does she mean her manipulation power? "Just…whatever you're about to tell me."

"It's the ability to alter someone's thought patterns. Basically, you can plant an idea into a person's head and make them act on it."

That sounds alarmingly familiar. "You mean, like, mind control?"

I must make a face, because she looks away sheepishly and wrings her hands. "You could use it that way. In fact, if I really wanted to, I could turn your brain into jelly before you even had time to scream." Holy shit. At my expression, she waves her hands in front of her. "I won't! I promise I won't do that. Mostly, I use a very mild Compulsion. More like a subtle suggestion than anything. From what I can tell, no one even feels it."

I narrow my eyes, recalling the agony I'd felt yesterday. "Clearly, Danny Fenton felt something."

Eileen frowns deeply. "Yeah, I think it's because of his parents. I assume you know his parents hunt ghosts?" I nod. Eileen crosses her arms. "I don't how exposed their son would be to their experiments, but I imagine the kid's got some level of ecto-contamination. See, ghosts like you and I are extremely sensitive to even the most mild forms of Compulsion. Enough so that we feel an intense pain if we try to resist it."

"Ah," I say, trying not to look uncomfortable, "that explains it."

"It's the only explanation I can come up with."

"So, why target him specifically?"

"The first day of school, he said he was going to be a good student this year. He has a bit of a reputation you see." I manage not to cringe. "Then, he started skipping school and stuff. He seemed so adamant about being better that I felt like something was up. Then, I overheard him talking with his friends about it, and I knew it had to be something pretty serious. I compelled him because I wanted to know if there was anything I could do for him, but obviously I'm not going to try that again."

Her honesty sends a pang through my heart. "So, you really just wanted to help?"

"Let's just say that my life ended because of something that wasn't my fault. When I see a good person doing bad things, I try to get their side of the story before I pass any judgment."

She wants to help me. She never intended to hurt me. She used her powers because she wanted to help me.

Teachers don't do that. They sigh and hand me a detention slip, maybe lecture me if they're in the mood. Yes, there have been times when someone showed a little extra kindness, but no one's ever done anything that truly helped. But, it's not like it's their fault. I'm not exactly an open book when it comes to my powers, my duties to this town.

Still…how many times now has Francesca Mae/Eileen Merryweather asked me if I was okay? Even my own parents don't do that, not when I really need them to. Out of nowhere, my throat closes up and I find myself blinking away tears.

"So," Eileen says when I don't respond, "what happens now?"

I hum in question.

She wrings her hands harder. "Is it…okay if I stay here? I-I know you don't like other ghosts in your territory, but-"

"What? Territory?" I have to laugh. "No, no, no, no. Amity Park is my home. I was born here. I learned to drive on these roads. I even lost my first tooth at the Nasty Burger. I'm not territorial. I just wanna keep this place safe."

"So," a tentative smile spreads on Eileen's face, "I can stay?"

I smile back. "Eileen, I think you and I have something in common. You want to help your students with things beyond education, and it just so happens that my own Obsession is helping others. I guess I kind of relate to you in that regard."

"So, you really don't mind my being here?"

"Nah. I think I can trust you." Before I can change my mind, I add, "Tell you what. I'll keep your ghostly little secret if you keep a secret of my own."

She's a ghost anyway, I figure. She already knows that halfas exist, so what's the harm?

Eileen grins and folds her hands in front of her chest. "Of course! That's more than fair. What's your secret?"

"My secret is that I'll see you in class tomorrow."

Two rings, piping hot ones now, run over my body, revealing a face she's quite familiar with. Her mouth falls open at the sight of the kid we were just talking about. Then, she bursts out laughing, doubling over and holding her too-thin stomach from the force of it. I grin at her reaction.

When she recovers, she throws her arms toward me. "Now it makes sense! Now it all makes sense! Ancients beyond, it all makes sense, now!" I wonder how often she uses terms like "Ancients beyond" in front of humans. Then again, it probably sounds like nonsense to anyone who doesn't know ghost terms. "So, are you a spirit or a demon?" Demons are ghosts who form in the Ghost Zone and were never traditionally "alive."

"Actually, I'm a halfa," I say.

Eileen's red eyes widen. "A ghost-hybrid. I heard there were a few roaming around. Wow. What are the odds of one of them winding up in my classroom?"

I cross my arms and say smugly, "With my luck? The odds were pretty good."

Eileen chuckles then sobers. "Hey, your parents hunt ghosts. Do they…know about this?"

I ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach. "No, but I have it under control. Don't worry."

Eileen looks like she's gonna worry anyway. "It can't be easy protecting the town and going to school. Is that what you and your friends were talking about in the hall?"

"Yeah," I confess. "I thought I could use Duplication to make copies that would fight for me, but…" I shrug in defeat.

"You can use Duplication too?" Eileen lets out a breathy laugh. "Danny, you saw my copy. Why don't I just teach you how to make your copies as efficient as mine?"

"You would do that?" I ask, a flash of hope in my chest.

"Of course! Granted, I've never had mine do anything as complex as fighting," she crosses her arms, "but I'm sure the same principles apply."

I picture it. I send out a copy to patrol the town. The copy finds a rogue ghost and takes it down. Or, the copy sees someone being mugged and swoops in to save them. Meanwhile, my homework is done, my grades are up, and I only ask to use the restroom when I actually have to go. Mom and Dad wouldn't be ashamed of me all the time; they never say it, but I know they are.

And, outside of school? I still want to protect the town in person, but if I have something else going on? No making excuses to get away. No leaving my friends in the lurch (even if they do understand and are never mad about it). Jazz could stop covering for me when Mom and Dad ask where I am. Maybe she could transfer to a college she really wants to go to.

"Come on, Danny," Eileen encourages when I stay silent. "It's a win-win situation. You get to attend school and act like a normal kid, and I get a healthy core." She knocks her fist against her chest to emphasize this. "What do you say?"

I feel a smile pull at my lips.