A/N: Set just post-series for Gravity Falls and shortly after D-Stabilized for Danny Phantom. Written for the Danny Phantom 2010s crossover angst week. Today's prompt is runaway.

Valerie wasn't running away from her father.

She was running away for her father.

Specifically, she was running away to protect him.

She was running away to protect everyone.

Valerie bent low, keeping her jet sled just above the treeline so she could dive for cover at the first flicker of movement or alarm from her various ghost sensors. It wasn't terribly late, but she was still squinting into the sun despite the tinting of her helmet. It wouldn't be for long, though; if the navigator and odometer in her helmet were both accurate—and they hadn't been wrong yet—she'd be arriving soon.

Her suit (and accompanying jet sled) was one of the few weapons she still had from her time as one of Amity Park's most infamous ghost hunters. It was one of the few things from then she could still trust. For the rest, she'd bitten the bullet and talked up Danny's parents, confessing her interest in ghosts to them and offering up half her savings in exchange for the equipment she needed. They hadn't accepted her money, but she'd still walked away with everything she'd asked for and more.

She hadn't told them she wouldn't be around to try to talk Danny (and presumably Sam and Tucker) into going ghost hunting with her.

Ever since she had learned that Vlad Masters was Vlad Plasmius, she'd been convinced that he'd see through the façade she put up every time she was forced to be in his presence. To say pretending that nothing had changed had been difficult was an understatement. Facing him and smiling and agreeing with whatever he was saying had felt like telling a lie as great as Dash did whenever he claimed he hated teddy bears.

She hadn't even lasted two weeks.

The day Vlad had idly inquired if she was stepping back because of her father's disapproval of her activities had been the day she'd realized she needed to leave.

She hadn't gone immediately, even though she'd been terrified every second until exhaustion and acceptance had taken over and she'd started to grow accustomed to that terror. She'd gathered weapons, supplies, and money, and she'd spent so many hours researching at the library that Jazz had approached her to ask if Danny had forgotten about an upcoming assignment. Valerie had deflected. She still didn't know if Jazz believed the excuse, but she at least hadn't called her on it. Valerie hadn't been willing to stop, though. She'd needed to figure out where she could go to get help from someone who would believe that she had a problem in the first place.

One thing growing up in Amity Park and then Elmerton had taught her was that stories often dismissed by the rest of the world tended to hold more than small pieces of truth within them.

Another was that if something outlandish was universally agreed not to have happened but, given the context of rumours, nonetheless persisted, it merited further investigation.

Usually, that meant conspiracy theories.

She hoped that this time, it meant truth.

Amity Park was not the nice place to live it pretended to be, and she could only hope Gravity Falls was not as boring as it pretended to be.

"Never mind all that," the waitress at Greasy's Diner said when Valerie tried to ask about what appeared to be semi-recent construction in town.

"Never mind all that," said the reporter of the Gravity Falls Gossiper when she wanted to know more about the unofficial history of the town, the sort of thing she couldn't find out in a library—since she'd thought, apparently incorrectly, that such a thing would be a feature for a local newspaper which published articles about homicidal pterodactyl-trons.

"Never mind all that," said the librarian when Valerie gave up and asked outright about the rumours she'd heard and wanted to know if she could access the archives to find out any more information on it.

Valerie couldn't afford to dawdle in case Vlad was looking for her and actually caught up to her. If she kept getting the runaround here, she'd be forced to leave and fly to the next promising location on her list. It would cost her precious time, money, and energy to get all the way back across the country to West Virgina from Oregon. Sure, maybe she should have checked out Kepler first, but she'd really thought Gravity Falls would be like Amity Park.

She couldn't find a ghost to help her, but surely someone knew something.

Then again, maybe she should stop avoiding the obvious. Tucker ran the occasional ghost tour on the side to make some extra money. Locals could be in the know and still ham it up for anyone willing to give them a little money. Gimmicky as it seemed to be, hitting up the local tourist trap might be her best chance at getting an answer other than 'never mind all that'.

The Mystery Shack turned out to be a tidier spot than the name and the old flyers in town had led her to believe, but something about it….

Valerie shivered as she walked past the totem pole and up the wooden steps to the entrance. The yard was well-kept, and there was a relatively fresh coat of paint or stain on everything, but it felt too much like a façade for her comfort.

There was a feel about this town that set her teeth on edge, like a hum she couldn't quite hear but still made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It made her sure she was in the right place—if not somewhere she could find help, then at least somewhere someone should understand what she was trying to do and hopefully point her in the right direction.

"Welcome to the Mystery Shack." The woman behind the counter smiled warmly. Melody, according to her nametag. "We're under new management but just as much an enigma as before." She hesitated, her smile falling into uncertainty, before she added, "No charge if you're just browsing the gift shop, but I'm afraid the vending machine is currently out of order."

Ouch. If she looked that bad, that might also explain why she hadn't gotten any real answers. Of course, given what she could see around the gift shop, she wasn't convinced she'd get real answers if she coughed up the money to go inside. The statue of the founder wasn't exactly flattering, and Valerie only recognized the wax head of the white guy on a high shelf behind the counter because her dad used to watch Larry King's interviews. The severed hand in formaldehyde beside it or the brain underneath the counter was less disturbing; at least those didn't look like they were watching her.

The bobbleheads of the Mystery Shack's founder should be the easiest to take in a fight if any of this stuff came alive, though, so Valerie made sure she stayed on their side as she stepped up to the counter. Resolutely ignoring the jar of what was probably golf balls painted as eyeballs was easy enough, since they didn't look real, but that brain or the hand…. She wasn't going to think about it. "That's okay. I was just wondering if your exhibit covered what happened here this past summer?"

Melody's expression went stiff, but she managed to keep her voice pleasant as she said, "Oh, never mind all that. The tales and creatures you'd learn about inside—"

"Please," interrupted Valerie. Being polite was quickly becoming a last resort, even if she knew she could only push her luck so far. Unlike the others who'd laughed her off as politely as they could, Melody had reacted. That was all the proof Valerie needed that she wasn't barking up the wrong tree. "I just want to talk to someone who knows what happened." Preferably, she'd talk to someone who knew how it had all ended, but she needed a starting point.

"I'm afraid—"

"Like your founder. Does he know anything?" If he did, that might be why this place was under new management.

"He's not available."

Valerie narrowed her eyes. "That wasn't a no. So what do you know?"

Melody stared at her and then, without breaking eye contact, raised her voice and called, "Mr. Mystery, we've a potential sightseer."

Great. She'd called for backup. Valerie retreated a few steps to give Melody more space, but the door that presumably led to the exhibit (exhibits? Valerie wasn't sure how much of this place was dedicated to the tourist bit) opened before Valerie could think of a way to gently rephrase her question and sound like less of a lunatic.

The so-called Mr. Mystery was dressed in the same outfit as that of the founder in statue form, down to the cane with the black eight-ball on top. His beard was more scruff than anything else, though, and the eyepatch…. She suspected it was just for show, this place being what it was, but she wasn't about to ask.

"Welcome to the Mystery Shack!" he crowed, and Valerie knew she'd have to jump in before he launched into whatever spiel this place usually fed their customers.

"I need help." She hadn't planned on being so blunt, but she couldn't stand here and get the runaround again. Maybe it was because she was tired. Maybe it was because she was desperate. "Help from someone who knows how to deal with things like you dealt with over the summer."

"The best people to help you with that aren't here," someone else said, and Valerie nearly jumped out of her skin. She really must be tired. She'd been so focused on Melody and Mr. Mystery that she hadn't noticed the blonde girl—her age, maybe, or a bit younger—who'd followed him out of the exhibit room but taken up a position by that door. She had a dust rag in one hand and a smudge of dirt on her cheek, but she wasn't dressed for cleaning. Valerie knew brand name clothes when she saw them, and this girl had expensive taste.

"Pacifica," Mr. Mystery said, a note of warning in his soft voice.

Pacifica, thankfully, ignored him and kept her attention on Valerie. She pointed at the founder's statue. "You want that guy and his brother, but they're off fighting a kraken or whatever."

Mr. Mystery cleared his throat, and Pacifica shot him an offended look that Valerie had seen a million times from Star and Paulina. "What? Look at her. You can practically smell her desperation. She's not some freelancer digging up a story for a shady tabloid."

Pacifica was rapidly outliving her usefulness, but Valerie gritted her teeth and ground out, "Thanks."

The girl didn't miss the sarcasm. Neither, judging by the look Melody and Mr. Mystery exchanged, did they. "Look, officially, nothing happened this summer, except for me now needing to degrade myself by doing this job if I want to keep my pony fed—"

"Pacifica." This time, it was Melody hissing her name. "It's not degrading."

Pacifica ignored her, too. "—but I saw how you got here. Those clothes are so last year, but if you could afford them at all but not afford a new outfit when you've got transportation like that, I can guess what you've been through."

"Transportation?" echoed Melody, the admonishment in her tone replaced by genuine confusion. "I didn't hear a car coming."

Pacifica crossed her arms. "She didn't come by car."

Fine. Valerie could swallow her pride if it meant talking to the one person in this town who was apparently willing to give her answers. "No. I didn't. But I did come a long way for answers I need. So, unofficially, what happened?"

"You first," Pacifica said. "You didn't blink when I said they were fighting a kraken, so what've you fought? It must be something."

Valerie scowled, but Mr. Mystery stepped forward before she could figure out the best thing to say to salvage the situation before it went sideways without—potentially—tipping off any lingering spies of Vlad's to her plans. "Let's close for the day. Abuelita will make us tea."

Melody nodded, moving around the counter to flip the sign on the door to closed before locking them in, and Valerie wondered for an awful moment if this was all a trap.

It wasn't.

Running from Vlad and his potential influence might have made her paranoid, but she was pretty sure Mr. Mystery's—Soos's, she quickly learned—grandmother didn't poison the tea she was delighted to make upon finding that they had company.

Valerie sat awkwardly at the small kitchen table with Soos, Melody, and Abuelita—all of them called her that, apparently—while Pacifica perched on a stool across the room and watched Valerie carefully.

Valerie did not want to get into the details of this with people who might not be able to help her.

She especially did not want to get into the details of it all with someone's grandma who would probably be hurt if Vlad found out what Valerie was doing—or trying to do, anyway.

"So, Valerie," Melody said softly, since Valerie had told them her name when Abuelita had asked her who she was, "would you care to fill us in?"

No. She couldn't say that, though. "I'm from Amity Park." No one had ever heard of Elmerton. Chances were good they didn't know Amity Park, either, but the name might not be completely unfamiliar if they knew as much as she suspected they did. "It's a bigger place than this, but it's…. It's not the nice place to live it pretends to be. It's haunted."

"Haunted," Pacifica repeated, as if she were the one running this show. Valerie never would have lasted as an employee at the Nasty Burger if she'd kept Pacifica's attitude; she had to be a family or a family friend to get away with this much.

"Ghosts are real."

"I know." Pacifica set her teacup on the counter and hopped off the stool. Valerie was pretty sure Pacifica hadn't even taken a sip, so Valerie took one, if only to show Abuelita that she wasn't as rude as the other girl. The tea was surprisingly good.

Or maybe not so surprisingly, given that Abuelita had needed to be talked out of making fresh cookies and had settled for opening the cookie jar by the fridge and setting some out on a plate. Valerie's own grandmothers had both been like this before they'd passed. Drinking tea—albeit mostly milk—out of a real teacup while sitting at the table with the adults (on a pile of telephone books so she could reach the table, no less) was one of the only memories Valerie had of her mother's mother.

"Because of what happened this summer?" Valerie asked, twisting in her chair as Pacifica came to stand behind her.

"Eat," insisted Abuelita before Pacifica could respond, which meant Pacifica could take a cookie instead of answering.

Valerie took one, too—because it looked delicious, because she was exhausted, and because she was going to need all the energy she could get if she was really going to face down Vlad and have a hope at winning. But mostly because it looked and smelled delicious, and she didn't regret it for a moment because it tasted just as good as it appeared. It was some kind of cinnamon shortbread thing, and now that she'd tried it, she'd realized she'd had the like at Paulina's before.

Still.

It gave her time—again—to wonder if she was making a mistake.

Maybe she should've talked to Phantom instead of running off. Phantom had to know about Vlad. It explained too much for him to not know, and running away instead of making another truce with him to deal with Vlad felt…petty, in hindsight, even though she'd seen him lose or draw more fights with Plasmius than she'd ever seen him win.

Then again, maybe she should've talked to Danny after all. His distaste for Vlad was an open secret, so he'd have surely believed her. But if Vlad took it out on him just because he'd helped her….

No.

That was why she'd left in the first place.

She needed help from a source Vlad wouldn't expect.

She needed to hit hard and fast. She needed the fight to be practically over before it began.

She needed weaponry whose designs he wouldn't be able to parse at half a glance because he'd worked with the inventors for years.

"If your town's haunted," Soos asked carefully as Pacifica finished her cookie, "are you trying to make it un-haunted? Not haunted?"

Valerie wasn't even going to dream about a future where that were possible. "It's complicated. Right now, the most pressing issue is one specific ghost."

"Do you know what kind of ghost?" asked Pacifica, which as good as confirmed that she knew— "Or what level?"

Valerie blinked, suddenly less sure of Pacifica's apparent knowledge. "Huh?"

"I'm assuming a category ten."

"By whose categories?" Whatever scale Pacifica knew, it wasn't one the Fentons used. Or Vlad, but that would be by design, since he didn't want anyone else realizing the truth about Plasmius.

Pacifica gave her a withering look instead of answering, as if Valerie should be above asking what the other girl clearly considered to be irrelevant questions. "Category tens are the most dangerous type."

"Then yeah, he'd be a category ten." Valerie might not know the scale, but chances were that Amity Park had faced its fair share of those. She wanted to think the Box Ghost was in a lower category, but after his power trip that one time, she wasn't even sure if he would be.

They were lucky no one had died yet, but that luck would run out some day.

Likely as not, it'd run out sooner rather than later for her or her dad if she couldn't find a way to fight Vlad.

"Well, I'm not the best person to offer advice when it comes to exorcising ghosts—" started Soos, but Pacifica cut him off.

"She already knows how to do that. Don't you? That's why you have that suit. To protect yourself from whatever they try to throw at you."

"I'm a ghost hunter," admitted Valerie, "but I can't take this ghost down without help. He knows everything I use inside and out. I need something to throw at him that he's not expecting."

"You speak with Fiddleford," Abuelita said decisively as she started to get to her feet. "I go pack you food to take."

"Gracias, Abuelita," said Soos. Turning back to Valerie, he said, "She's right. Old Man McGucket might be able to make you something you can use."

"If he's lucid enough," muttered Pacifica, but she stepped around to slide into Abuelita's chair and snag another cookie.

Valerie took another one, too.

They were good.

She swallowed the bite she'd taken before saying, "So where do I find him?" She wasn't terribly worried about Pacifica's comments about his lucidity. Almost no one in Amity Park thought the Fentons were entirely with it, even if it was generally agreed upon that they were geniuses in their own right. Geniuses didn't have to be entirely sane.

And anyone deliberately trying to open a portal to another dimension surely fit the 'not entirely sane' category. Especially if they'd succeeded.

"The Northwest mansion," Soos said immediately, but when he saw Pacifica's scowl, he amended his words. "That is, the old Northwest mansion. On the hill."

Valerie remembered seeing the mansion on the hill from a distance. It looked to be bigger than Vlad's place in Amity Park, and that was saying something. "Great. Thank you." She shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth and got to her feet, but Melody's hand on her arm stopped her from going farther.

"We could come with you if you like."

Valerie shook her head and swallowed. "I don't want you to be involved with this if you don't have to be."

Melody pursed her lips and looked at Soos, who sighed and turned to Pacifica. "Will you show her the way?"

Pacifica humphed. "She doesn't need me to. She can fly on that sled of hers."

"She could use a friend," Melody pointed out quietly, and Valerie resisted the urge to snap out that no, she didn't, because any friend of hers would just wind up in Vlad's crosshairs.

Pacifica rolled her eyes. "Fine. But we're taking the golf cart."

Pacifica's agreement surprised Valerie, but in hindsight, she supposed it shouldn't. Pacifica might gripe about the arduous task of escorting Valerie to the mansion, but Valerie had a sneaking suspicion that Pacifica had agreed because she could also use a friend. There was a familiarity in Pacifica's barbs that Valerie hadn't wanted to admit to herself. She was pretty sure Pacifica hadn't fallen as far as she had on the social scale, but she didn't strike Valerie as the type to do odd jobs—or look for part-time work—unless she had to.

Then again, she'd mentioned a pony.

She couldn't have lost that much.

She wouldn't still have a pony if she really couldn't afford to feed it. That might be her excuse to pick up jobs, possibly even a lie to herself as much as to her parents and everyone else, but if she hadn't had anything to turn to like Valerie had had ghost hunting….

Maybe she simply wanted to be around some friendly faces who wouldn't judge her for who she'd become.

Valerie didn't ask, not even for the entire length of the golf cart ride. Pacifica didn't make small talk, so Valerie kept quiet, too. When they drove through the open gates ahead of the mansion, though, and around the fountain to the cobblestone path leading to the stairs at the front door…. Valerie couldn't ignore Pacifica's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel or the way she steeled herself as she parked and hopped out to start up the steps.

"You don't have to come in with me," Valerie said quietly as she followed with the baking Abuelita had given her. "I know that some things that seem simple really aren't."

"I'm fine," Pacifica said, though her sharp tone belied her words.

"I mean it. I appreciate the ride, but like you said, I've got my own transportation—"

"It's fine." Pacifica raised one fist and knocked loudly on the door three times before Valerie could say anything further.

When the door opened, Valerie couldn't see anyone inside. She couldn't tell who had let them in.

Well, there was the possum that was scurrying away from the door, but that might be a coincidence.

Then again, considering Valerie spotted a raccoon eating something in the corner of the room, maybe it wasn't.

Pacifica didn't seem overly perturbed by the wildlife, even if she did look a shade paler than before, so Valerie decided to count that as a win.

"Hey, McGucket?" Pacifica called out. "Someone needs help with a category ten ghost." She glanced at Valerie, lowering her voice back to its regular level as she asked, "Revenge scheme? Family curse? You never said."

She hadn't said.

She hadn't gotten the full story on what had happened here this past summer, either.

Valerie pursed her lips, considering the girl in front of her and what she suspected about said girl, and then said, "You ever hear of Vlad Masters?"

Pacifica blinked. "I think so? He's a CEO of some big company, isn't he? I think Dad was planning to invite him to next year's party, but…."

"VladCo," Valerie confirmed, ignoring the party comment for now. There wasn't time for the story. "He's—"

"Made an enemy and now has some ghost out for vengeance?"

"More like the opposite. Let's just say that there's a reason the local ghost hunters don't call Plasmius the Wisconsin Ghost anymore."

Pacifica frowned and opened her mouth—maybe to ask for clarification; maybe to spout off her thoughts as to what Valerie meant by that particular statement—but she was interrupted when a man ambled into the room, barefoot and grinning like a fool. It might be an act—the band-aid on his beard made Valerie hope it was an act—but considering the possum on his shoulder, she couldn't be sure.

She wasn't even sure which was worse, whether the possum was the same one she'd glimpsed earlier or if it was a different one.

The man had come from the same direction, but still.

"Welcome to McGucket's Hootenanny Hut! We don't got any ghosts here no more, but have ya tried the old convenience store? I hear—"

"This is for real," cut in Pacifica, and McGucket's eyes lost their glazed look and focused on them.

He let the possum down before pulling a pair of glasses out of the pocket of his overalls. Given the green lens of the glasses, they almost looked like something the Fentons might invent, but the frames were gold, not silver. "Can't be too sure." It was said by way of explanation, and Pacifica nodded in understanding, but….

The change in demeanour was unnerving. That, more than the non-answers she'd gotten in town, Melody's tell, or the little Pacifica had already admitted, convinced Valerie that the rumours were as true as she'd hoped—which, considering what they said, wasn't great for anyone living here, but if their experience could be used to Valerie's benefit, she was hardly going to complain.

"Ghosts ain't my specialty," McGucket admitted, "so I don't know if I'll be able to help ya, but I'm willin' to hear ya out."

Valerie glanced at Pacifica before looking back to McGucket and saying, "I need a weapon that'll take down a ghost, but it…. It needs to be able to take down a human, too."

"Your ghost is possessing people?" guessed Pacifica, but Valerie shook her head.

"It's worse than that, but if you think about it that way, it'll be easier." Valerie chewed on her lip, trying to figure out how much she could safely say. Likely as not, she'd already said too much, but if she didn't tell them enough, they wouldn't be able to help her. "This is a ghost that can become human. Or a human that can become a ghost."

"Ghost or demon?" McGucket asked sharply. "A demon's deal—"

"Ghost," she said hurriedly, not liking the dark look on his face. "Definitely a ghost."

"Ya sure? Demons can masquerade as ghosts."

Valerie shivered despite herself; something about his words made her skin crawl. "I'm sure. But the target is smart and familiar with a range of weaponry that's used to hunt ghosts; he won't be fooled by something similar. If I'm going to stop him, he can't see me coming."

Pacifica was giving her a horrified look that told Valerie she'd put the pieces together—or enough of them to have an idea of the truth, anyway.

"I ain't planning on handin' ya a death ray," warned McGucket, which was when Valerie finally realized that she recognized his name from that article in the Gossiper. "Can't say I recommend memory modification except in extreme circumstances, either. 'Specially if this ghost is more human than ghost."

"I don't need to kill him." She wasn't sure that would improve the circumstances—Plasmius could do an awful lot of damage without doing it as Vlad Masters—but she had mixed feelings on the idea anyway. He was a lying, manipulative scumbag, but he was a human as much as he was a ghost. What she really wanted was Vlad stopped—for him to not have a hold over her and her family (or, ideally, anyone else) and for him to not have as much power as he did in general, since he was prone to abusing it without anyone realizing the truth.

She wanted the moon, likely as not.

"I mean, I don't need to destroy him," she amended. "I need to incapacitate him and show the others who he is so they'll know what he's done. I want to make sure he can't hurt anyone else." She wanted to make sure he couldn't manipulate anyone else like he'd manipulated her, too. She wanted to make sure he couldn't retaliate.

What if she tried and failed?

Vlad could ruin her life much more effectively than Phantom—fine, the ghost dog—had, and he could destroy so much more of what she held dear.

She wouldn't be the only one to lose her life as she knew it if this went wrong; her father would lose his, too. Maybe not literally—though she wouldn't put it past Vlad if he were angry enough at her—but it would be easy enough for Vlad to arrange the situation to his liking, and that situation could well end with her father in prison for the rest of his life.

"Do you think that's possible?" she whispered, not ready to hear a negative answer. "I'll pay you what I can. I've been saving for college and—"

"I don't need money," McGucket interrupted, "but I can always use more information 'bout these sorts of things."

"I don't know if I know enough to—" She broke off. "I don't know as much as other people, but I can try to get you answers if I don't have them. Assuming this is doable. Do you think we can do this?"

McGucket hummed and glanced down at the plate of baked goods in her hands. She'd almost forgotten she was holding it. "Ain't a lot that's really impossible, but let's head into the sittin' room for a bite while we talk."

By that point, Valerie couldn't bring herself to be surprised when the sitting room had no chairs and McGucket folded himself onto the floor with a nimbleness people half his age would envy, but she was a little surprised when Pacifica drew back a curtain to reveal a veritable wall of notes and equations scribbled on papers pinned up without a care for the once-polished wood that was surely beneath it.

McGucket grabbed a pen and blank book with half its pages torn out—now either up on the wall or in the bin, Valerie assumed, unless possums made nests and might have taken some? She really didn't know—and began to write. He explained as he did so, in between bites of sweets and asking her questions about the situation and making sure for the umpteenth time that a demon wasn't somehow involved—especially after she'd mentioned the ghost portal. Pacifica listened for the most part, sometimes interjecting with a comment or a question of her own, but McGucket was making sketches before half an hour was up, and Valerie quickly realized he might be the smartest person she'd ever met.

If he could help her, she wouldn't need to fly across the country to repeat her plea.

If he could help her, she wouldn't need to try to explain all of this to the Fentons and beg for them to believe her when their old friend would insist she was either lying or mistaken.

If he could help her, she wouldn't need to worry about what Vlad might do to her dad just because she'd decided she didn't want to hunt ghosts anymore.

If he could help her, she might actually be able to do this.

Valerie knew it was foolish to hope when she didn't have a solid plan, let alone a physical weapon in her hands, but this was a start.

For Vlad, it was the beginning of the end.

She'd make sure of that.