It All Goes Up in Flames!

Burnout

"Raising kids is part joy and part guerrilla warfare." – Ed Asner

Imagine, if you will, that you have a child, a one-year-old undead son. Picture his soft light gray skin, his hair which is the same snow-white as your own (at least when you're in ghost-form), his wide eyes that are entirely red but for their reptilian pupils. Feel his tiny hands latching on to your clothes because he's too small yet to hug you the way you hug him. See the un-infant-like laser focus that washes over him when he partakes in his Obsession, which is anything relating to art. He is your son only through imprinting, which is when someone who dies as a child meets an older ghost that fits the bill, so to speak, but it doesn't matter. You love that boy as if he had been yours right from the start.

Now imagine that you woke up in the middle of the night because that child was on fire.

It started out as a fun weekend with my son sleeping over. (Ghosts don't need sleep, but Bub likes doing it, so the term still works.) Bub prefers to live in the Ghost Zone, so any time I bring him to the human realm is a treat. This was his first time spending the night at my house, and my whole human family was excited.

Things were going well until I noticed that Bub's skin was warm when it should have been cold. Ghosts are supposed to run somewhere in the forties. When I took Bub's temperature, it was 76 degrees Fahrenheit. That's about average for me, but I'm half-human. As a seventeen-year-old single father with a baby, my first instinct had been to panic. Jazz, being the overzealous aunt, had the same instinct. Mom and Dad, being the only ones in the house with any real experience with babies, managed to calm us down.

Dad recalled the time that Bub accidentally boiled the water in the bathtub. The reminder that my son was due for a new power was a huge weight off my shoulders. It helped that while Jazz and I were losing it, Bub had turned to his grandparents with a confused, "Why are Daddy and Aunt Jazz freaking out?" It became clear that Bub wasn't actually sick, so all was right with the world.

Until I woke up to the smell of smoke.

Since we were on the fence about buying a crib for someone who doesn't need sleep, and Bub is weirdly fascinated with sleeping bags, I rolled one out next to my bed for him. Is it safe for a baby to sleep in one of those? Probably not, but again, Bub is a ghost.

Ghost or not, we certainly hadn't planned for this.

The small bright red flames at my bedside would be cause enough for alarm. The fact that my child is in there has me in full Obsession-mode.

I go ghost, untangle myself from the sheets, and blow out icy breath all at the same time. The fire is out within seconds. The sleeping bag is a pile of ash, there's a big char mark on the floor, and part of my bed is extra toasty.

And, in the middle of it, my son appears untouched by the flames but is moaning in agony.

Frightened tears sting my eyes as I levitate off my bed and lift my son into my arms. He's so warm, almost too hot to hold. I let my ice powers seep over my skin, cooling myself down both for Bub's sake and so that he's less likely to burn me. I coo reassurances as he snuggles against me.

Out of nowhere, the door is bashed in. Pure instinct makes me plant my feet on the ground, crush Bub against me and pull my feathery reddish-orange wings out from my back to wrap around us. My wings are still fairly new, and I haven't used them much, but I know that they're virtually indestructible, making them the perfect shield for my sickly baby.

"Danny!" My father's voice soothes the scared and protective parent within. "What happened? Why'd you scream?"

I screamed? I don't remember that. I must have been too trapped in the mindset of "holy shit my son is on fire" to notice.

"It's okay, sweetie." Mom's here too. "It's just us. You're safe."

I'm still shaking, but I've calmed down enough to retract my wings back into my body.

My parents may still be in their pajamas, but they came in expecting a fight. Dad's fists are up, and Mom is clutching the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick (an ordinary baseball bat with a sticker that says "Fenton" stuck to it). They relax their stances when they don't see any intruders.

Jazz pushes past them. "Danny, what's going on?"

A hysterical giggle slips past my lips. "Oh, nothing. Just watched my infant son burst into flames! How's your night going?"

They all notice Bub and the charred carpeting for the first time and rush over. Mom turns on my lamp then touches the back of her hand to Bub's forehead. She yanks her hand back with a cry of, "Ow! Ow!"

"So," Jazz says with forced cheekiness, "we're thinking fire powers?"

"No, Jazz, I think he can control the wind." Yes, I am giving my sister attitude. Considering the sheer terror I just faced, I feel that it's justified.

Dad observes the little gray mass still curled up against me. "Is that…normal ghost development?" he asks worriedly.

I shake my head. "I don't know. I'm gonna take him to Frostbite. If anyone can help, he can."

Frostbite is my regular doctor and a good friend. Being the leader of the yeti-like demons in the Far Frozen, you would think that he'd be too busy for a sudden visit. But, he always makes time for me. Probably because he and his tribe see me as the "Savior of the Ghost Zone" because I defeated Pariah Dark. (Everyone always glosses over the fact that I had help.) No matter the situation, Frostbite is always ready and willing to lend a hand.

Thankfully, that extends to my imprinted son.

Bub was nervous at first. After all, Frostbite is a bipedal beast covered in thick white fur and sporting sharp teeth and claws, horns seemingly made of blue ice, and one real arm and one prosthetic that's also made of blue ice but shows the bones underneath for some reason. Combine all of that with a height of well over seven feet, and Frostbite cuts an intimidating presence. But, he's very kind, and with a little encouragement, Bub was put at ease quickly enough.

After I explain the situation, Frostbite says that he already has an idea of what's going on, but he wants to be sure. I stay in the room while he runs all manner of tests on Bub. Like always, Frostbite is gentle but professional and is patient with the toddler who's never been to the doctor before.

Well, he's probably been to one as a human, but since he died when he was three months old, I doubt he remembers.

The entire medical ward is located inside of a cave that that has icicles on the ceiling. There is a huge monitor with multiple screens and about a million buttons. I am seated beside the examination table that Bub is sitting on. Along one wall is a countertop with a sink and a whole bunch of drawers. If I didn't know Frostbite was a good guy, I would have no trouble calling this a supervillain lair.

Pride floods me. Bub's face is scrunched up and he makes a small, anxious noise every time he is poked at or has something attached to him, but there are no tears and he is very cooperative.

"You're being so brave," I say to Bub after Frostbite removes a large suction cup from under my son's tiny shirt.

Bub smiles a little at the praise and smiles bigger when Frostbite adds, "Indeed, little one. Very few children are able to remain still during their first examination!" He returns his attention to one of the monitors. "Ah, yes. It is exactly as I suspected."

"Is it bad?" I ask.

The smile Frostbite sends my way is a huge relief. "Not at all. Your imprint is the picture of health."

"But," I glance at Bub, who is drooping with exhaustion while smoke rises from his skin, "but, the fire! He set himself on fire, Frostbite!"

"Great One," the nickname the Frozeners have for me that I can't seem to shake, "I would like for you to think back to when your Cryokinesis abilities began to truly manifest. How your body was plagued by insatiable chills to the point where icicles formed on your skin."

I remember that very well. It was the middle of summer, and being half-ghost meant that natural changes in temperature didn't affect me. Yet, I was wearing a thick jacket and covering myself in all the blankets I could get my hands on. And, I was still freezing.

I look at Bub as the pieces fall into place. "So, it's like that? Just Bub's…Pyrokinesis coming in?"

"Elemental powers, when not acquired upon one's formation, often come with side effects once on the brink of 'coming in,' as you put it," Frostbite explains. "In your case, you felt cold no matter what you did and nearly froze yourself solid." He gestures to Bub, who is flapping his shirt in a futile attempt to cool off. "Bub has the opposite problem. Your core radiated extreme levels of cold, while his radiates extreme levels of heat. This is why he is so warm and why he spontaneously combusted."

"I don't like it," Bub whines.

"Alas," Frostbite says sympathetically, "such is the way of these things. But, fear not, Bub. Once your Pyrokinesis has fully formed, you will no longer have to worry about the fire consuming you."

"How long will that take?" Bub asks.

The desperation in his voice hurts my heart. My core, too. My Obsession is helping others, but there's nothing I can do about this. Bub being my son only adds to the rotten feeling in my chest.

"Given that you are experiencing symptoms," Frostbite says, "I would say that your new abilities should be fully formed in roughly a week's time."

Bub scrunches up his face again. "But, that's forever!"

I take my son's tiny hand between my fingers. I hate that I have to use my ice powers to touch him. "It's not so long. And, once the week ends, you'll be able to train with your grandper! That'll be fun, right?"

Bub's whole face lights up. His "grandper" is the Ancient called Reaper. They are one of the two ghosts I imprinted on, making them Bub's grandparent. Like Bub, they can use Pyrokinesis.

"Until then," Frostbite says, "I can whip up a special serum that will alleviate the symptoms. You will still feel too warm, Bub, but you will no longer be at risk of your flames overtaking you."

"Okay," Bub says with a tiny smile.

Frostbite turns to me. "This is acceptable, yes?"

I frown and shrug. "What are you asking me for? You're the expert."

"Yes, but when children are involved, I like to get the parent's permission when possible. I would have done it anyway, though," he adds with a wink. "The best way to administer the serum is in the form of an injection. That way, it goes directly into the core. But, if that's not acceptable, there are other methods."

Have I mentioned that Frostbite is an awesome doctor?

One who's…looking at me when he says that. I guess this is a parent decision. I drum my fingers on my knee. Shots suck, especially when you're a kid. Especially when you just turned one last month. "What are the other options?"

"Well, a suppository is-"

"No."

Frostbite laughs. "There is also the option of having him drink it. The problem with this is that the serum is more likely to be absorbed into the ectoplasm than the core, where it is needed. It would still ease the symptoms, but not as much."

I glance at Bub, who looks very confused. "So, you're saying the shot is best."

"In terms of core health, it is always more effective to target the core directly."

Bub's gonna hate this, but, "Give him the shot."

Bub's head whips my way. "I don't wanna be shot!"

I wave my hands in front of me. "No, no, no, no! Getting a shot is different from getting shot. It's when a doctor fills up a…special kind of needle and, well," I tap my fist to my arm, "jabs you with it to put medicine inside you." Bub's eyes are as wide as saucers. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I've gotten shots before. It only hurts a little. And, this one will help you feel better."

"Your father is correct, little one." While we were talking, Frostbite had walked over to the counter and started measuring and mixing things. "Medical practices can be very uncomfortable, as you've noticed. I only mean to assist you in your time of need."

Bub whimpers and curls his tiny hands into fists. I take one of those fists in my hand. "You can trust Frostbite. I wouldn't have brought you here otherwise."

Bub nods but still looks like he'll bolt at any minute.

"Now, Bub," Frostbite says, "the needle is rather large, but rest assured that only a very small portion of it will enter your body." Bub gasps when Frostbite shows him the needle in question. "The length of the needle there to guide the medication into the exact place it needs to go. But," he taps the tip of the needle with his claw, "only the little point on the end will enter your skin. It will be quick and there will be very little pain, but you must hold still. Is that clear?"

Bub turns to me again. I nod at him. He nods at Frostbite.

"Excellent," Frostbite says. He kneels down to Bub's level and says to him. "I will need to inject the medicine into your chest." He pulls down the collar of Bub's shirt. "Remain still for me. This will be over before you know it."

Bub's lower lip quivers as he stares down the needle.

"It helps if you don't look," I suggest. "At least, it does for me."

Bub takes my advice and squeezes his eyes shut.

"We will do it on the count of three," Frostbite says, bringing the needle closer to Bub's chest. "One…two…and three."

Bub squeezes his eyes tighter and makes a high, scared noise as Frostbite administers the shot.

"What a brave young man, you are!" Frostbite praises. The needle is out within seconds. "All done."

"See, Bub?" I say as my son cautiously opens his eyes. "Nothing to it."

Bub gives his chest a curious poke then blows out a relieved breath.

Frostbite sets the injector on the counter. "You should find yourself becoming steadily cooler in a moment."

Bub's mouth drops open. "Yeah!"

I lay off the ice powers, and the relief that fills me when I can touch my son is palpable. "Thank you, Frostbite. Bub, what do you say?"

"Thank you, Frostbite," Bub repeats.

Frostbite grins. "You are most welcome, both of you! Now, I should like to see Bub again a week from today to assess how his Pyrokinesis is progressing."

"Is there anything we should be doing in the meantime?" I ask.

"Not a thing," Frostbite says. "Bub's new ability will develop on its own. But, feel free to return if there are any other issues."

I nod and rise to my feet. "Thank you so much."

I'll have to tell Reaper about this. Bub has his own lair, but he spends most of his time at his grandparent's.

But, that can wait. Now that Bub is feeling better, we have a weekend to enjoy.

Bub floats beside me as I summon the scythe that Reaper gave me. I position myself to swing it and open a portal back home, but something occurs to me.

I turn around and glare accusingly at Frostbite. "Hey, how come you didn't give me any fancy medicine when my ice powers were coming in?"

"As you recall, Great One," Frostbite explains, "during that time, your home was attacked by the powerful demon known as Undergrowth. Your Cryokinesis was a necessity in that fight, and you had to force your core to adapt to it in order to save your town. In short, unlike you, your son has the benefit of time."

"Makes sense," I concede. I swing my scythe then will it away after the neon green portal opens up. I take Bub in my arms because I hold him again, though he's still pretty warm, and say to Frostbite, "We'll see you next week, then."

Bub waves. "Bye bye, Frostbite."

"Farewell, my friends," Frostbite says with a wave. "And, best of luck to you, Bub. Oh, Danny."

I stop just short of the portal and look over my shoulder.

"When you have the time, I would like to give you a thorough examination."

I turn around fully. When your doctor wants to give you a "thorough examination," it can't mean anything good.

"Given your new form," Frostbite says, "it would be a good idea to have documentation on your internal changes in addition to the external."

Long story short, last month I finished up what was essentially my halfa puberty, leaving me with a new ghost-form. Not much has changed, but my skin is light gray, though a bit darker than Bub's, and the neon green of my irises has seeped out to encompass all but my pupils. (Bub was over the moon when he saw how similar we look now). There's also my wings. I hadn't considered what other changes there might be to my biology.

"Okay," I say. "I'll drop by in a few days."

"Splendid!" Frostbite says. "I shall see you then."

We say our final goodbyes, then I step into the portal with Bub in tow.

I get bombarded the moment I set foot in the living room. I should have known that Mom, Dad, and Jazz wouldn't be able to sleep until they knew how Bub was doing.

I give them a brief rundown of the situation, assuring them that bursting into flames is normal, albeit terrifying. Jazz and I explain to Mom and Dad that a similar thing happened to me when I developed my Cryokinesis. They remembered me having chills in the summer and how they'd chalked it up to a bad cold, no pun intended. I tell everyone about the injection that lessened Bub's symptoms.

And, of course, I gush about how good my son was throughout the visit. Bub adds his two cents: "I wanted to cry, but-but I didn't cry. I was brave." Bub receives a lot of relieved/congratulatory hugs and kisses after the story ends.

Finally, we all head back to bed. Since Bub's sleeping bag is now a pile of ash that someone cleaned up for me, my son gets to sleep in bed with me. Hey, why not? The kid's dead, anyway. What am I gonna do? Suffocate him?

Once my human-self is under the covers, Bub flies in and curls up against my chest. He's still pretty warm, so I have to yank off the blanket. But, it's a nice trade. There's something so damn right about my little man being so close to me. I kiss his head and close my eyes-

"Daddy?"

-and open them again. "Yeah?"

"I like Frostbite," Bub tells me. He tilts his head back to look at me and flash me that bright smile. "He's nice-scary."

I return the grin. "What's nice-scary?"

"You know," he says like it's obvious, "someone who's scary, but they're nice, so it's okay. Like Grandper!"

"You think your grandper's scary?"

"Uh-huh. But, they're nice-scary."

I picture Reaper in all their eight-foot tall, cloak-wearing, eerily breathy-voiced glory, and…story checks out.

Just for fun… "Do you think I'm scary?"

Bub purses his lips and hums in thought. "Sometimes. Like when you have to fight a bad guy, and you get all tough like grrr!" He bears his fangs, making me laugh. "Or, that time you made me sit in the corner. You were scary then, too."

"Hey, you had it coming, mister. Do you know how long it took me to scrub all that crayon off the ceiling?"

Bub sheepishly ducks his head. "But, um," his reptilian eyes meet my human ones once more, "but you're nice, too. Usually you're regular nice, but sometimes you're nice-scary."

"I can live with that," I say.

"Do you think I'm scary, Daddy?"

I pretend to think it over. "Nope. You're a cute little guy!" He giggles when I press his face into my pajama shirt.

"Will I ever be scary?" He sounds very eager about that.

"You will someday. Probably once you hit puberty. Now, why don't we get some shut-eye? I know you sleep for fun, but I'm half-human, so I actually need to sleep."

Bub shifts for proper snuggling. "Okay. Good night, Daddy."

I kiss him again. "Night, son. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy."

With my precious child beside me, and no longer burning my bed, I close my eyes and dream of campfires and warm hugs. And, maybe a little snow mixed in.