Knowledge of "Masters Disasters" and "Paternal Instinct" is recommended but not required.

You Can't Handle the Truth!

Fenton

"Cupcake? Ignoramus! I'm a giant frosted scone." - The Fairly OddParents

"I'm gonna tell my parents who I am."

Vlad Masters/Plasmius opens his mouth to say something condescending. Then he stands there with his mouth open because he wasn't expecting me to say what I did. "I beg your pardon?" he says when he recovers.

We're the only ones within earshot, so we can talk freely. "I'm gonna tell my parents who I am," I repeat.

I, in ghost-form, joined Vlad, who is in human-form, as we were walking out of the Guys in White's temporary laboratory just outside of town (more on that later). He and I are both halfas, and I wanted him to know that he's about to have two less people to keep my secret from.

To say that Vlad and I have a rocky relationship is like saying that drinking gasoline is a bad idea. We got along pretty well when we first met, but that changed when we learned each other's secret identities. I could go on and on about all the horrible things he's done since then, but I don't have all day.

However, something happened less than two short weeks ago that changed our dynamic.

It started with Vlad developing a fixation, which is when you so badly desire something related to your Obsession that anything else is a temporary relief if that. Vlad was fixated on my reckoning, which is basically puberty for halfas. Once it's over, my ghost-form will gain a less human appearance and, in my case, a pair of wings and a new set of abilities (more on that later, as well). And, on the last day of my reckoning, I will become violent and attack anything in sight and be unable to stop myself from hurting people and destroying things. I'm telling myself that there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to flee to the Ghost Zone on that day, but Clockwork said that I would attack the town. Clockwork is never wrong when it comes to these things.

That's where Vlad's fixation comes in. His own reckoning resulted in what the government wrote off as a terrorist attack. A very bloody and gruesome terrorist attack that leveled an entire town. Vlad didn't want to see my reckoning turn out like his.

That's why he's working with the Guys in White to fortify Amity Park. I think the Guys in White are only helping so that they'll have more powerful weapons to shoot me with on that day, but whatever gets results.

Vlad raises an eyebrow at me. "Meaning that you're going to reveal that you're their son? Have you forgotten how deeply your parents despise our kind?"

I could never forget. I've been my parents' favorite target since my ghost-half became a fixture in this town. I'll never forget the nightmares, the brutal assaults, the horrible words. I have a long scar on my side from when my father's weapon sliced through my skin. When my mother said to my face that ghosts don't have feelings and that I should stop pretending otherwise, I nearly fell apart then and there. I've had sleepless nights and shed countless tears and acted like everything was fine while in human-form because Mom and Dad didn't know.

But, things are changing for the better.

There is a little spirit named Bub. He died when he was three months old and has been a ghost for over six months. At some point in our friendship, he imprinted on me, meaning that our cores resonate in a way that essentially makes me his father. We have no blood (ectoplasm?) relation that we know of, but Bub is my son no matter what DNA says.

Naturally, I kept him a secret from Mom and Dad, but a recent series of events forced me to come clean about him. Sort of. My parents think I got someone pregnant and that Bub is my biological son. That easily held the record for "World's Most Awkward Scolding."

To my surprise and delight, Mom and Dad took an instant shine to Bub. Bub lives in the Ghost Zone, but I brought him over three times this week, and nothing bad has happened.

Which means that there's hope for me.

"I think it'll be okay," I say. "I'm going to do it after school tomorrow. Don't worry; I won't tell them about you. I just want you to know that you'll be able to talk to them about me."

Vlad scans me up and down like I'm a specimen he can't quite figure out. "I seem to recall a few weeks ago when you were breaking down on my couch after your mother all but kicked you out of the house because you chose ghosts over her."

The comment jams a knife through my heart. Vlad's fixation was so bad that his core was causing him unbearable pain. He couldn't even eat or sleep, and despite how much I hated him, I couldn't bear to see him in that state. Mom was desperate enough to keep me away from the "the Wisconsin Ghost," that she said something that I know she'll never forgive herself for: "If you go with that ghost, then don't bother coming home!"

I'm not too proud to admit that I did cry in front of Vlad. Twice. And, once when he wasn't in the room with me. It was a long night.

"That was then," I say with a confidence I didn't have two weeks ago. "This is now."

We stare each other down for a moment before Vlad relaxes his stance. "Well, I don't know what changed but," he waves dismissively, "you do you, I suppose." Then he smiles in that conniving way. "And when this blows up in your face, feel free to join me for a pity party. I give you permission to weep in my arms once more."

I growl under my breath. The few moments of kindness he showed me that night and the following morning don't change what an asshole this guy is.

(Something tucked away deep inside of me is terrified that I'll have to take Vlad up on his offer.)

I shoot into the air and barely get anywhere before I hear a new voice calling my name. I look down, and the first thing I see is the Ghost Assault Vehicle. Second is my father waving me down. Talk about timing.

Instinct has me hesitating to approach, but I remind myself that my parents are less trigger-happy now (I hope). I fly down and land in front of Dad with my arms crossed and my features schooled into a neutral expression. "What's up?"

Dad's turn to hesitate. In his case, it seems like he doesn't know what to do next. Then, "I, uh, I wanted to say thanks." When I'm too stunned to respond, he continues. "For letting me and Maddie meet our grandson."

My parents are sworn to secrecy about that, but no one is around to hear.

I rub the back of my neck. Cool ectoplasm seeps into my cheeks. "Well, you-you guys are his grandparents. There's no reason for me to-to, you know, uh, keep him from you."

"There is a reason," Dad says very seriously. "You know how we feel about your kind. You had every reason to keep him away from us. You and Danny." The guilt on his face sends a pang through me. "Yet you still let Bub see us. That means more than I can say. And, I'm speaking for Maddie as well."

I duck my head as my face gets even greener. "Um, yeah, uh…yeah."

Keeping it together is a struggle. My ghost hunter father is having a civil conversation with the ghost he despises more than any other. More than that, he's thanking me for letting him and Mom be with their ghost grandson. I want to wrap Dad in my arms and never let go, but I have to remain calm. I need to keep up the facade that I'm as uncomfortable as he is.

For now.

"So, Phantom." I look up at Dad's voice. His brow is narrowed with resolve. "If-if you ever want to…stop by… That is, for something other than-than reckoning preparations… What I'm saying is that if you come over for a…a casual visit, then that's fine with us."

My mouth falls open. "W–w-what? You want me…" I check myself over. Black jumpsuit. White gloves. White hair. Yep. I'm in ghost-form. "You want me to-to come to your house for-for fun?"

This is happening. This is really happening.

Dad misinterprets my response. "I mean, if you'd rather not, I understand-"

I throw my arms around him and bury my face in his orange jumpsuit. My parents want to give Phantom a chance. They don't know it yet, but that means they want to give me a chance. This feels like a dream.

I realize that Dad isn't returning the embrace, and I remember that I'm in ghost-form. I leap back and swipe the back of my hand over my damp eyes. "Sorry! Sorry! I totally made this weird. But, uh, yeah! You-you want me to come over some time? I-I can do that! Absolutely!"

Dad gives me two awkward thumbs-ups. "Great. So, I'll see you around then."

"Yeah," I say with a real smile. "Yeah, you will."

I leap into the air and continue my patrol. My heart is soaring as high as my body.

I'm not waiting until tomorrow.

I sit on a street light, right on top of the bulb, and let my wispy tail flutter in the breeze as I pull out my phone. Ghost-made cellphones can connect with phones from either realm, so that's the one I use when I group-text, "I'm telling them today," to everyone who knows what I had originally planned to do tomorrow. The replies are almost instantaneous.

Reaper (my imprinted ghost parent): 'Best of luck.'

Tucker: 'You got this, bro!' *thumbs-up emoji*

Eileen (my imprinted ghost mother): *heart emoji*

Mira (my girlfriend): *multiple heart emojis*

Sam: 'Let me know if I have to commit murder.'

Paulina: 'OMG! I want all the details!'

Dash: 'If they don't accept you, let me know so I can pound them!'

Jazz: 'I'm still out with Mom! Why are you doing this to me?' *upside-down smiley face emoji*

Valerie: 'What Sam and Dash said.'

I read and re-read the replies, and it hits me how many people care about me. This isn't even all of them, just the ones who both know my secret and have phones. I have other friends in the Ghost Zone, and the residents of Amity Park respect and appreciate me. In fact, some of them see me up here and call out greetings and wave. I'm grinning ear to ear as I wave back and put my phone away to continue my patrol.

I'll finish up my usual sweep of the town. Then I'll head straight home and tell Mom and Dad everything.

I was delayed by a particularly stubborn ectopus, so Dad made it home before me. I find him sitting at the kitchen table with a notebook opened in front of him. He skims through it and absently flips the pages.

"Everything okay, Dad?" I ask.

Dad looks up from his reading. "Oh, Danny. I thought you were spending the day with Sam and Tucker."

That's what I say when I'm going to be spending a lot of my day on reckoning preparations. "Something came up." I move a chair closer to Dad and sit down. "Whatcha got there?"

"It's a collection of data and theories about Danny Phantom," Dad says. "I'm not gonna lie. It's a disorganized mess. Whenever your mother and I have something to add, we just write it wherever it'll fit."

My stomach is in my shoes. "You-you have an entire notebook's worth of Phantom stuff? Isn't that a little, uh…" Creepy? Obsessive?

Discouraging?

Dad laughs without humor. "Yeah, I realize what it looks like." He closes the notebook. I half-expect to see a bunch of drawings of me, but it's a plain black cover. "I, uh, I kind of had a run-in with Phantom earlier."

My heart speeds up to a normal human rate. I feign nonchalance. "Did you now?"

"Yeah, and… I guess it's got me thinking." For the first time, I actually want to hear my father blather on about ghosts. "You'll like this, son. Don't tell your mother I told you, but we've been talking and decided that since Phantom is Bub's father as much as you are - well, in the emotional sense - we're willing to give him a fair chance."

"So, you did mean it?" That lightness in chest grows stronger until I remember that I haven't told him yet. "I-I mean, uh…"

Dad smacks his forehead. "Ah, crud. Phantom told you."

"Uh, yes?"

"I should have expected that. Anyway, when I told him, he got so excited. Even gave me a hug!" Dad rests his fingers on the notebook as if he can't decide whether or not to open it. "Your mom and I spent so long believing that ghosts were emotionless monsters. But, after Bub and now this… I'm really starting to think."

You should have started years ago. I want to say that, but I won't. It will be implied once Mom gets home. "You never gave ghosts a chance," I say instead. "I'm really proud of you for starting. Better late than never, right?"

He returns my smile then frowns at the notebook and cups his chin. "Hey, son. You spend a fair amount of time around Phantom, right? What with you guys sharing a kid and all."

"You could say that we're joined at the hip," I jest.

If Dad finds my response odd, he doesn't show it. He slides the notebook toward me. "Would you mind taking a look at this? From the sound of things, you know more about Phantom than most people. Maybe you could, I don't know, cross out whatever you know is wrong. Most of this is from before all this reckoning stuff started, so a lot of it's theoretical anyway."

"You want me to help you with your work?" Am I dreaming? Tell me that I'm not!

Dad grins. "Danorama, do you know how long I've wanted you to help with our work? Now if we could just convince your sister."

I chuckle. "I'd love to help! I'll get started right now!"

I leap out of my seat and grab a pen from the drawer. Dad thanks me and leaves me to my work.

I go through the pages and try not to cringe all the while. Most of it consists of things they've seen me do around town. That would be fine if it didn't include theories on why I was saving lives, whether I was focusing on certain people, how everything was connected, other things that make me rethink my decision to tell them the truth.

There is also a handful of generic yet equally wrong notes. Anything about my emotions being fake? Crossed out. The theory that my rivalry with Vlad Plasmius exists solely because we're so closely matched in power, the words "spectral pissing contest" being used? Amusing but crossed out. Jazz possibly having a crush on me? Crossed out with "NO" written and circled beside it.

Not everything is inaccurate, however. They got my powers right. (Except for Shapeshifting. I don't think what I do counts.) They're also correct about a lot of the scientific facts. My top speed is 132 miles per hour. My ecto-energy can run as hot as 117 degrees fahrenheit. My ice is capable of reaching absolute zero, which is horrifying but good to know.

As disturbing as this is, I have to admire my parents' determination. They've said more than once what an unusual ghost Phantom is, and they've done their best to figure out why. I don't like their methods, but I know their goal is to keep the town safe.

Hopefully we can do that together very soon.

By the time Mom and Jazz get home from their "mother-daughter time," I've gone over all of my parents' notes about me. And, crossed out enough words that some pages consist more of black lines than words. The notebook was only about three-quarters full, and a lot of space was taken up by drawings or my father's big, messy scrawl, but it still left me feeling a little queasy. It's one thing to hear people call you a monster; it's another for them to go into detail about it on paper.

Especially if it comes from people you love.

But, Mom and Dad love me too. They've already proven that they're willing to give Phantom a chance.

No more putting it off. Let's see if that chance extends to Fenton.

I close the notebook and walk on shaking legs to the living room, where Mom is telling Dad about what a nice day she and Jazz had.

"My favorite part had to be the spa," Mom says. Probably at Jazz's insistence, she forwent her jumpsuit for the day and instead wears jeans and a light blue tank top. "Who knew sitting in mud could be so relaxing?"

"Yeah," Jazz says with forced cheeriness. "So relaxing!"

Oh, man. I hope I didn't ruin her day. Maybe I shouldn't have texted her.

Dad spots me and waves me over. "Hey, Danny! I was just about to tell them how you were helping with our notes."

"Oh?" Mom says, intrigued.

She and Jazz turn around, and the latter has a fake smile on her face. I swallow hard despite my dry mouth.

Dad leaps to my side and throws his arm around me. "Since this guy spends so much time with Phantom, I had him go over our notes for anything he knows is wrong."

"Is that so?" Mom says. To me, "How'd we do, hun?"

It's now or never. I rub the back of my neck. "Actually, I want to talk to you guys about that."

There's an instant shift in mood.

Jazz points vaguely toward the staircase and stammers, "Should-should I, um…" I nod. She kisses my cheek for luck before heading upstairs.

This confuses Mom and Dad even more. "Well, she knows what's going on," Mom comments. "What's this about, Danny?"

Here we go.