Chapter Nine: A Second Chance at Life (and Death)

"Family ties mean that no matter how much you might want to run from your family, you can't." - Unknown

Danny

Admitting that you have a problem is the first step toward fixing it. As for Vlad's second step, I suggested talking to Reaper, getting some closure about Vlad's reckoning.

I'm leaning against the wall outside of Reaper's study. Those two have been in there for a while. I know better than to rush them, but I'm itching to find out how it goes.

I already called the team and assured them that I would be home soon and that Vlad has been dealt with. I didn't give them any details. I know firsthand how personal a visit to your own grave is, so I don't want to say anything without Vlad's permission.

Now, all there is to do is wait.

After an eternity, the door opens. Vlad's cool, unflappable façade is back, and Reaper…well, their hood is up.

I straighten. "All good?"

"We had a nice chat," Vlad says curtly.

Reaper looks down at Vlad. "And, I do look forward to seeing where you go from here, Vlad Plasmius."

Vlad's fingers twitch, and his expression almost wavers as he keeps his gaze firmly ahead. I give his hand a squeeze, and he yanks it back and turns his head away from me. I smile.

"I'll take us back to Earth," I say. "But, could you give me and Reaper a few minutes?"

"Of course," Vlad says, still awkwardly curt.

This night is throwing all of us off. So much has happened in such a short amount of time.

Reaper holds the door for me, and we step into their study. The moment the door closes, I say, "Did you know I would see Vlad in the cemetery?"

"I had hoped," Reaper says, "though you were so exhausted that I was not certain."

I'll keep Muerte's noisy snooping to myself. It did come in handy. "Well, thanks for bringing him there. Anyone else would have beaten him into a new grave. I'm glad you didn't."

"Some people cannot see the light unless it is shined directly into their eyes."

I picture Vlad crying at his grave. Then, I see a ruined Earth and an emaciated man weighed down with regrets. I lower my gaze. "I wish it wouldn't have taken something so drastic."

Reaper kneels down to my level. "What matters is that it happened, that he wants to change. I suspect that you had a hand in this."

I rub the back of my neck. "I guess so. I mean, I feel like he was always a good guy deep down. He just…fell off the path? I helped where I could, and maybe I did help him make progress, but he didn't really…get it until you brought him to his grave."

Reaper chuckles and pats my shoulder. "Such a modest child. Though I do not know the entirety of your history with Vlad Plasmius, I do know you, Danny Phantom. You prioritize the happiness and safety of others, and from what I have heard and seen, you are quite good at it. That leaves an impact, Danny Phantom."

My face cools at the praise. A smile pulls at my lips. "You really think I left that much of a mark on Vlad?"

"One cannot force another to change. But, it is possible that you had more influence than you think. Will you spread your wings for me?"

Kind of random, and it takes me a minute to remember that I have wings now and that Reaper hasn't seen them yet. It's also a painful reminder that, like Reaper's skin, their core injury destroyed their wings as well. I saw what remained of them once. Reaper's wings had been mangled into featherless extensions that looked like tree branches painted with blood. I had mistaken them for really freaky claws at first.

I focus and try to will the wings to grow out of my back or however that works. I nearly fall backwards at the sensation of someone yanking on my shoulder blades. "I-I'm not quite used to them yet," I say in embarrassment.

Reaper runs the back of their hand over the soft rust-colored feathers of my new wings. I wonder if they're thinking of their own. I know how much they miss having wings, being able to fly, do…other wing-related things. I read something about launching the feathers like a barrage of daggers. I can't wait to learn how to do that!

I just wish my grim could show me firsthand. I wonder if a wish to Desiree could-

Yeah, no. Not doing that. Going to assume that someone with similar powers has already tried.

"You are an angel, Danny Phantom," Reaper says, unaware of the crazy path my mind took. "The only way for a ghost to form as such is for that ghost to contain an inherent kindness and desire for peace." And even then, most don't become angels. Angels are exceedingly rare, and I'm the first halfa in history to also be an angel. I'm so used to weirdness latching on to me that the thought barely phases me. "These wings are a symbol not of what you are, but of who. Take pride in the man you have grown into. There are very few like you, my son."

I nod and blink away tears.

Reaper rises to their full, very tall height. "I look forward to showing you how to use your new wings. Well…not show exactly," they add with a bit of sorrow leaking through, "but you know what I mean."

The happiness their speech brought me is dimmed now. "Isn't there any way to fix your core? Or, at least bring your wings back?"

"Perhaps one day a cure will bring itself forth. For now, I do not want you to worry about such matters." They bring their hand to their chest. "I have been this way for thousands of years. I can wait."

But, I don't want you to.

I open a portal back to the alley we started in, where Vlad helped me through my panic attack. We don't speak when our feet hit the asphalt and the portal closes behind us. We just stand there awkwardly for a moment.

Eventually, Vlad breaks the silence. "So, what happens now?"

I take in a long breath and blow it out. "What I'd like to do is crawl into bed and sleep for ten years." Vlad's lips quirk upward at that. "But, I really need to get the street cleared. Then…then check the damage to the rest of the town."

Vlad huffs and shakes his head. "From what I heard, Shade Street got the brunt of the attack. Might I suggest prioritizing sleep? Because, I wouldn't say no to that." He ends with a stifled yawn.

I shake my head. "I won't be able to fall asleep until I at least clear out the rubble." Otherwise, the guilt will keep me up all night.

Vlad raises an eyebrow when I don't move. "So, why are you still here?"

Because I can still see everyone's fearful looks and hear their whispered concerns of whether or not I've turned evil. I need to shake this off. Everyone's probably gone back to bed by now. I can do this.

I steel myself and walk out of the alley and on to the street.

The damaged but…surprisingly clear street?

I scratch my head and try to make sense of the fact that, craters in the pavement aside, all traces of my reckoning have been removed.

"How'd we do?"

The voice comes from above me. Eileen, the one who spoke, and Mira descend in front of me. Mira gestures to the street. "We wanted to make ourselves useful, so we cleaned the place up while you were dealing with…"

She trails off, and she and Eileen hone in on Vlad. I turn around to check on him and see him crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact. I want to yank him over here and force him to apologize, but I resist the temptation.

For now.

I turn back to the girls. "He's cool. It's a long story." I speak a little louder. "And, I'm sure he will have a very sincere apology for you two some time in the near future."

Vlad makes an annoyed sound, and the rest of us laugh.

"But, seriously," I say, "what do you mean, 'we?'"

"What do you think?" Eileen says. "Your friends, your human family, me and Mira. We know you, kid. Which means we know that you regularly work yourself into exhaustion." She proudly jabs her thumb at her chest. "We did it for you tonight."

Mira throws her arm around Eileen in a side-hug. "It helps that at least two of us don't need sleep! And, one of us," she gives Eileen a squeeze, "can make copies of herself."

Eileen shrugs in faux-modesty.

I feel weird about everyone cleaning up my mess, but I'm so tired that gratitude trumps everything else. "Thank you." I scrub my palms over my cheeks. "My god, thank you. I am so tired! Wait." I scan the street and find only the four of us. "Where's everyone else?"

Eileen shrugs Mira off and puts her hands on her hips with a chuckle. "You think you're the only one who's tired? Every human involved started dropping like flies one by one! I had to have my duplicates take them home."

That makes sense. It's been a long, long night, and none of them have the benefit of a ghost-half to keep them awake longer. I'll have to thank everyone in the morning.

We exchange hugs and kisses and, after assuring them that Vlad is no longer a threat and that I won't pass out on the way home, Mira and Eileen go on their way.

Leaving me alone with Vlad.

I spin around and walk up to him. "You know, you could have apologized to them. I feel like I dropped a pretty big hint about that."

Vlad sighs through his nose and massages his forehead. "Let me work at my own pace, Daniel. You're not the only one who's had a long night."

That's for damn sure. Between his grave, my reckoning, the…the vivisection…

"Are you still going to talk to the Guys in White?" I ask. "About getting the weapons back?"

Vlad stiffens and does a poor job of hiding it. "It's the principle, Daniel. They lied about their intentions, and frankly, I do not enjoy being lied to." I open my mouth. He holds up a hand. "And yes, I realize how hypocritical that sounds. Besides, as mayor, I need to uphold a certain standard of peace, and the equipment they gave us was a big help with that." He spreads his hands through the air and gazes at all the buildings that are still standing. "I'll be the first to admit that I could take or leave this town, but I take my responsibilities seriously. Something I'm sure you can relate to."

There's a snide remark here, but my brain is too fuzzy. "I'm still coming with you for that. Don't argue. I'm not leaving you alone with them."

Vlad opens his mouth to argue anyway, but the look on my face must tell him that there's no point. He doesn't let himself smile. "If you insist. Though, I hope you know the risk you'll be taking."

I put my hands on my hips and lean forward even though I'm the shorter ghost. "You do realize that you'll be taking the same risk, right, Mayor Hypocrisy?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that the best insult you can come up with?"

I yawn. "When even my ghost-form is sleepy, yes."

Vlad does smile now. "I suppose I'll bid you goodnight, then."

I stop him when he's about to take off. "Um, Vlad? Good luck with…with being better. You're gonna need it," I add with a wink.

"I see you're not too tired to make fun of me," he says with something that might border on fondness.

I grin. "I'll never be too tired for that."

When I phase into my room, I have every intention of falling face-down on my bed and not moving. That plan is postponed due to my human parents sitting on my bed. They stand up when they see me, and I return to human-form.

"How are you feeling, son?" Dad asks.

The huge yawn that erupts from me answers his question. If it hadn't, I would have told him that every cell in my body is about to shut down.

"Maybe we should do this tomorrow," Mom whispers to Dad.

The anxiety on my parents faces registers, putting exhaustion on the backburner. "What's wrong?"

Mom fakes a smile. "It's nothing that can't wait 'til morning."

I look between my parents, my desire for sleep temporarily forgotten. "No, something's up. What is it?"

My parents look at each other, then Dad sucks in air between his teeth and says to me, "It's just…we-we were wondering about…about your death…"

Maybe we should do this in the morning. I push the thought away because I'll never fall asleep if I don't find out what this is about. "O-okay."

Mom waves her hands in front of her. "You don't have to tell us anything. It's entirely up to you." She grabs her upper arm, and Dad turns his head away. "But…we had some questions…"

They know. Or, they at least have a theory. I don't want them wallowing in guilt, but I don't want to lie to them either. I swallow hard and battle the urge to crawl under the covers. "What kind of questions?" When neither of them respond, I look up at the ceiling and prepare for the worst. "How do you think I died?"

They weren't expecting that. Mom freezes, and Dad gnaws on his lower lip before sighing and running a hand over his face. "Vlad told me what happened to him, and-and then he…" Dad swallows, and his voice quivers. "He hinted at…at our Ghost Portal…"

Now all I want to do is fly to Wisconsin and give Vlad a grave on Earth. Reminding myself that this happened before Vlad wanted to change does nothing for the anger stirring within. There's no law that says you can't tell someone how another ghost died, but it's incredibly rude. Even more so if the death was traumatic, like mine was.

I should lie, but I don't have the energy, physically, mentally, or emotionally. I told myself that I would tell them what happened one day. Though, this isn't quite what I had in mind.

Actually, I never had anything in mind. If I'm being honest with myself, I always figured that if I did tell them, there would be some event that would force the truth out of me. I could never hurt them like that without some serious prompting.

That doesn't mean I have to like it.

On the way to the lab, Cujo bowled me over and showered me with licks. It was a nice reprieve, and it's also nice to have him in the lab with us now. We'll all need the emotional support, though I'm not sure who will need it the most.

I'm going to walk my parents through what happened on September 7, 2004. I could simply tell them, but…it feels important to do it this way. Because my parents are the reason that Danny Phantom exists, I want them to have the full picture.

Even if it might hurt them more.

But, the Portal is off, the doors open, and the metal paneling within is visible. All I'm doing is confirming what they already know.

Cujo makes a small noise, hyper-aware of the tension in the room.

I take a fortifying breath and begin. "Sam, Tucker, and I were the only ones here. They were curious about the Ghost Portal, so I brought them down to the lab. We didn't touch anything. We were just looking around, and Sam was taking pictures. She suggested I pose for one in the Portal." I'm not brave enough to check my parents' reactions. I walk up to the Portal and stand before it. I haven't seen it deactivated since that day. The sight is…surreal, to say the least. "I put on my jumpsuit and…stepped inside." Bad memories are telling me not to come any closer. I have to force my legs to move. Touching the wall takes even more effort. "I moved my hand along the wall like this. No reason. Just, like, an absent-minded thing, I guess. And, um…" I stop just shy of the "on" and "off" buttons and turn to face the entrance and my parents. "You can probably guess what happened next," I conclude while switching to ghost-form.

Nobody moves. Even Cujo is stone-still.

I can't get out of the Portal fast enough. It feels like a hundred pounds have been lifted off of me by the mere act of stepping in the lab. I wonder if this is how it feels for all ghosts who walk into the place they died. I'm still shaking as I walk back to the group and suppress the instinct to sprint and throw my arms around my parents, who are holding hands and have tears on their faces.

My cheeky grin probably looks more like a grimace. "I am now open to questions."

Dad's wet eyes are locked on the Portal. "Did it hurt?"

I look away and scratch my ear. "It…wasn't pleasant…"

Mom sniffles. "How long did it take?"

I shuffle my feet until Cujo headbutts my ankle in silent support. "Sam and Tucker said it only lasted a few seconds. It felt longer, though."

I lift Cujo into my arms. He licks my chin and relaxes against me. I kiss his furry head in thanks.

"Danny, I…" Dad chokes out.

Mom nudges him and says, "We..."

"Me," I firmly correct. "The only ones at fault are me, myself, and I. I knew better than to mess with your stuff, but I did it anyway." I lower my head and watch my fingers brush Cujo's short fur. He sighs in contentment. "I was stupid, and I paid the price. I mean, that was a pretty terrible design choice," Dad flinches, and Mom squeezes his hand and presses her free hand to his chest, "but at the end of the day, I was the one screwing around with things I didn't understand. The blame lies solely on me. Nobody else."

Mom's smile is broken and wobbly. "You realize that doesn't make us feel better."

I hold Cujo a little tighter. "I know. This is exactly why I didn't tell you sooner. I couldn't… I just couldn't do that to you. You already felt so horrible when you found out that Danny Phantom was your son, that you'd been treating your son like trash. I love you so much! I-I couldn't bring myself to make you feel worse."

Dad breaks first. "How did you live with us? With-with me?"

"Jack-"

Dad ignores Mom and collapses into the chair that happened to be facing him. He hunches over with his head in his hands and lets out a sob. "Good God, I killed my-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" I snap. He raises his head. Fresh tears fall down his cheeks. My own tears are dangerously close to doing the same. "I told you, I knew better than to screw with your stuff. I don't blame anyone but myself!"

And, I hate that I'm the only one who does. Sam thinks it's her fault for egging me on. Tucker regrets not stopping me. Now Mom and Dad are wishing they could go back in time and redesign the Portal. Or, even not build it at all.

But, I chose to walk in there. Nobody forced me. That's the part everyone seems to forget.

"You know I could have left at any time, right?" I ask my parents, whose expressions somehow crumble even more at the question. "I have two imprinted parents, one of whom is an Ancient, who have offered me refuge. When I first met Mira, I let it slip that my folks were ghost hunters, and I heard her parents discussing the pros and cons of adopting me. The Box Ghost lets me use his Haunt as a safe haven. I-it's not exactly livable, and I don't think he'd want me living there anyway, but…" Two tears slip down my cheeks and drip on to Cujo's fur. "Even before all of that, I had ghost friends. And, Sam and Tucker, of course. If nothing else, I have my own lair. Nothing was stopping me from leaving. Nothing except-except that leaving would hurt too much. I…I don't want to leave you."

The worst part is one day - hopefully in the very, very, very distant future - I won't have a choice. When I die (again), I'll be a full ghost. When Mom and Dad die, when Jazz dies, when Sam and Tucker and everyone else I know and love dies…I'll still be here. By that point, I'm sure I'll have a new set of loved ones in the human realm. And, I'll lose them one day, too. It will be a never-ending cycle of love and loss, of joy and sorrow. Because I know in my heart that I could never isolate myself from Earth the way a lot of ghosts do.

I sniff and dab the back of my glove at the fresh ectoplasm in my eyes. "It's never been easy, but…but you know what they say. Nothing worth doing is easy. And, being here, protecting Amity Park, being with my family," my voice cracks at that, "it's worth the pain."

Mom shakes her head. "Pain that we caused you."

"No!" I say automatically. "Well…yes. But, that's in the past. And, you didn't cause all of it. And, don't bring up the Portal!" I add when Dad opens his mouth. I adjust my grip on Cujo, who looks up at me with those sweet, innocent red eyes. I'd love to know what he's thinking right now. "I…I'm hard on myself." My reveal surprises me. I'm telling myself that exhaustion is loosening my tongue. "I always have been, but…once I got these powers, started using them to protect…" I war with the desire to stop talking. "It kind of snowballed into…self-hatred." Mom gasps, and Dad leaps out of his seat. "I-it's not as bad as it sounds! I don't hate myself all the time. It's just whenever something goes really wrong and… I want to be the hero everyone thinks I am. I…guess I put a lot of pressure on myself. But, I'm working on it! Sort of. Probably not as much as I should be. But, I feel better than I used to! My life, afterlife, whatever this is, it's full of challenges and makes me wanna pull my hair out sometimes. But, despite everything…I'm happy that I came back from the dead. Most people who die are just gone. I'm not one of them, and let me just say that being a ghost is one thing I will never hate myself for."

Dad moves first, Mom right behind him, and suddenly I'm safely, lovingly swaddled in my parents' arms. "We love you, son," Dad says shakily.

"I love you, too," I say, feeling myself revert back to human-form.

Cujo yips and wags his tail, not caring that he's being squished between us.

Mom shifts, and her next words chill the blood in my veins. "We could get rid of the Portal."

I spring back, and Cujo whines in response to the sudden change in my mood. "Don't you dare."

My intensity startles my parents. "Danny," Mom says, "we saw you run out of there. We want to help you, sweetheart. If the Portal scares you that much-"

"It usually doesn't!" I argue. I turn around to face the still deactivated Portal, the place where I died. "When it's closed or active, I'm fine. I-I think it's just when it's like this." I wave my hand toward it. "It might be a ghost thing. I'm not sure." Or, it could just be me. "Traumatic" would be the polite way to describe my death, so either explanation would make sense.

I let Cujo leap out of my arms, and he follows me when I walk up to the Portal. The mere proximity is making my nerves skitter over me. The moment my hand grazed that button in there, my life changed forever. I've been overwhelmed by fear and pain and grief. I've been surrounded by love and gratitude and happiness. I've made friends and enemies. I'm proud of what I do, and I curse myself for not being better at it. My life is love and hatred and tears and laughter thrown into a blender that's been set on the highest setting.

I'll drink every last drop.

I turn back to my parents, who have come to join me and Cujo in front of the Portal. I throw my hand out toward the opening. "This is where it all started. This is where Danny Phantom was born, and I don't know who I would be without him. As weird as it sounds, looking back, I don't think I felt truly alive until I died. I'm one of the lucky ones who came back from death. And, I'm even luckier because my heart is still beating. I don't like that I died. But, I like what came of it, and if I had to do it all again, I would."

Besides, Mom and Dad poured their hearts and souls into their Ghost Portal. Their work (often) sometimes interferes with (paying attention to me and Jazz) other parts of their lives, but it's their passion. The Portal is an amalgamation of everything they've worked toward all these years. I won't let them destroy it because of me.

"The Portal stays," I conclude. "End of story."

"If…you're sure," Mom says with a relief she tries to hide. Dad is trying to cover up the same emotion.

They don't want to see it go either, but they would do it if I asked. Lucky for them, I have no desire to ask.

Dad hums thoughtfully. "We could get you a therapist." At my expression, he holds up his hands. "Don't give me that look. Lots of kids your age have therapists. There's no shame in it."

"I know, Dad," I say. "But, unless you can find me a therapist who is a ghost…and not named Penelope Spectra," I add pointedly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh, right." Dad scratches his head. "I hadn't thought of that."

I shake my head fondly. "Guys, I'm fine. Really. I talk to Jazz when I'm especially down." She offered to give me weekly sessions, but I don't think I need it. Maybe if things get worse for me, I'll consider it. "And, I have plenty of support. I meant it when I said that I was doing better. And…a lot of it comes from you guys knowing who I am and accepting me for it. You don't know how much stress that took off my shoulders."

Not wanting to be left out, Cujo barks and stares up at me with his tail wagging and his purple tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth.

I giggle and kneel down to rough him up the way he likes. "And, you are a very good boy. Yes, you are!"

Mom sighs and kneels down beside me. "I wish we could turn back time, change the way we treated Phantom."

Dad joins us on the floor, settling on the other side of me. "Not to mention, the way we treated ghosts as a whole. Maybe you wouldn't have been so scared then."

"Maybe," I admit. "Or, maybe I would have been just as scared. We don't know. All that matters is that you guys didn't stop loving me when you found out. That's the only thing I care about."

Mom kisses my cheek and pulls me close. "You've grown up so much," she says with limitless pride.

Dad wraps his arms around us, and Cujo places his chin on my leg. I bask in the sheer love enveloping me.

It was worth it. All of it. This moment, and every moment like it, is worth every horrible thing I've been through.

It doesn't take long for exhaustion to break the mood. We drag ourselves upstairs and exchange tender but tired hugs and kisses and goodnights. I don't bother changing into my pajamas. I simply throw myself on top of the covers because unmaking my bed also feels like too much work. Cujo jumps on to my bed and curls up beside me.

My heart is full to bursting as I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.