Chapter Six: Double-Checking

"A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand." - Barbara Johnson

Jack

Before we left the human realm, Danny laid out some ground rules. "This is not a tour of the Ghost Zone. We get in, talk to Reaper, and get out with or without Rosa in tow. Stay within my line of sight. And, we are bringing the GAV because I will not have you out in the open, and I am not wasting time by going home to get the Specter Speeder."

"I can bring weapons," I argued.

Danny's response had been to stomp up to me, jab his index finger in my chest, and say more firmly, "I will not have you out in the open."

That's how the Ghost Assault Vehicle ended up parked on Reaper's front lawn.

That's also how I found myself being dragged metaphorically kicking and screaming inside. Not out of fear, but out of fascination.

Maddie and I have sent surveillance drones through the Portal in the past, but they all got either eaten or torn apart. We got some shots of the vibrant green atmosphere and the floating land forms scattered about, but nothing substantial.

Except for that one video of Danny's ghost-form flailing around while a bunch of glowing blue hamsters crawled all over him. We asked Danny about it after learning his secret. The only answer he would give us was, "Rodents in the Ghost Zone are either obnoxiously friendly or obnoxiously unfriendly with no in between. The hamsters are annoying, but they mostly act like hamsters. It's the rats you need to worry about."

Now I am inside the Ghost Zone, and I can't even enjoy it! I can't collect rock samples or examine ghost behavior or find out why I can breathe so easily in a place that doesn't have oxygen! I can't even learn if it does have oxygen! Danny promises that he'll show his mother and me around the Ghost Zone some other time, but how can I wait when it's right here?

But, it's not a total loss. I do get to meet my son's ghost parent face to face.

Learning that my son had imprinted on Eileen Merryweather, a ghost who teaches at Danny's school and kind of looks like the chick from The Grudge, was enough of a slap in the face. Then, Maddie and I learned that Danny had imprinted on another ghost. Maddie, for obvious reasons, is much more bothered by Danny having a ghost mother. I'm more bothered about Reaper. They may not be a father, but they still feel like my replacement.

It's not Danny's fault. I'm told that it's normal for young spirits to latch on to adult ghosts. It's simply Danny's instinct as someone who died before reaching adulthood.

But, given that the it happened back when Maddie and I still saw ghosts as little more than monsters, I have to wonder if there's another reason for my son's imprinting.

I'm told that Reaper lets other ghosts use their lair as a safe house, but I'm still unprepared for the sheer amount of ghosts in the gothic mansion. Danny keeps a tight grip on my arm, not letting me talk to anyone.

"We're on a mission, Dad," he reminds me three times, each more frustrated than the last.

Eventually, we find Reaper, and they're…very tall. I'm 6'10", yet Reaper towers over me. When I envisioned a demon - a sentient ghost that was never traditionally alive - with the name "Reaper" and the title "Master of Death," the first thing that came to mind was a long black cloak and a skeletal face. Turns out, I wasn't too far off the mark, though the cloak is light brown and the hood casts Reaper's face in shadow. I can't even tell if they have a face.

Reaper leads us to a small room with only a couch, a table, and an armchair. They take the chair while Danny and I sit on the couch.

There's something different about Danny as he recounts everything we've learned to Reaper. His shoulders have loosened. His arms are crossed as he leans back in his seat, but the gesture is less defensive and more casual despite the topic of conversation. Even under these circumstances, he seems…relaxed.

More so than he ever is at home.

When Danny is through with our story, conveniently leaving out the part where he almost threw himself down the stairs, he is completely at ease, having removed that weight from his shoulders.

Danny has no reason to be afraid of Reaper, who has been nothing but kind to him, while he spent over two years listening to his mother and me rant about how horrible Phantom is.

And, I'm the reason he has such an ugly scar on his side.

And, I'm the reason he's a ghost at all.

Oh, son, how can you stand to be near me?

Reaper steeples their fingers together. "Rosa Carmichael. The name is familiar to me."

"So, she is a ghost?" Danny asks.

"Indeed," Reaper confirms. "We have never met, but I know enough about Earth's history. Dreadful, what that woman has done. Equally dreadful that you had to experience it, my son."

I try not to cringe at the words "my son" coming so easily from someone other than me or Maddie.

If Danny notices my discomfort, he doesn't show it unless he is purposefully keeping his eyes on Reaper. "The kids wanna talk to her. Do you know where we can find her?"

"I do," Reaper says. "In addition to knowing the names and faces of the deceased, I also know where their lairs are located. I can give you the coordinates, but," they gesture to me, "I should like a moment with your father first."

Danny glances at me, sees that I have no idea what this is about, and says, "Uh, o-okay." He heads for the door but stops with his hand on the knob. "Hey, is Bub around?"

"Not at the moment," Reaper says. "He said something about working on a 'super duper huge project.' You will likely find him at his lair."

I want to say something about them just leaving a one-year-old alone, but I know parenting works differently for ghost children.

There's a sad but tender smile on Danny's face when he leaves the room. He's probably been thinking of his son since Amelia's vision. Lord knows I've been thinking about Danny and his sister.

Though, Danny is at the forefront of my mind right now.

Once the door closes, Reaper folds their hands in their lap and says, "I am not a replacement."

"W-what?" I say.

"I am not meant to replace you and your wife. Nor is Eileen Merryweather."

Can this guy read minds? Is that a ghost power? "How did you…?"

"I have existed for a long time, Jack Fenton. This has given ample time to learn how to read people." When I don't respond, Reaper says, "Imprinting is not a means of replacing a child's parents. I have heard it compared to a child gaining a step-parent or two. Merely an addition to the family. Nothing more."

I pick at a spot on my pant-leg and don't make eye contact. Danny and Jazz have told me the same thing about imprinting, yet I still feel like there's more to it than instinct. Maddie and I only ever spoke of ghosts in either a negative or a scientific way. We were so eager to destroy and dissect ghosts. It wouldn't surprise me if that was the real reason Danny sought ghost parents.

As in, parents he knew wouldn't slice him open for science.

Each of his choices - assuming it is a choice; I'm still fuzzy on that - makes sense, too. For centuries, Eileen had been hopping from school to school, dawning a new human identity each time until she was outed as a ghost. (Maddie and I are to blame for that.) Because the students liked her, and because Phantom had vouched for her, she was allowed to keep her job at Casper High. She's around humans all the time, so she understands the struggles of being a ghost in a human world. Though she has a bit of a sailor mouth at times, she is very level-headed and patient, and that must be a breath of fresh air for Danny.

As for Reaper, well, the only time we ever spoke before today was a very brief discussion over the phone. And by "discussion," I mean that Reaper made some very graphic threats toward me and Maddie should we ever harm Danny. So, the Ancient is certainly protective. Plus, they look after anyone and everyone, regardless of who they are. Danny is the same way, so I can see why the two of them connected. Them both being angels is just a bonus.

"Can I ask you something?" I say once I find my voice.

"Of course," Reaper replies.

"Do you think…" I swallow hard and yank the words from my throat. "Do you think Danny would be…better off here? With you and Eileen and-and other ghosts?"

Reaper doesn't speak for a moment. I wish I could see their face, or at least know if they even have a face, so I could get some idea of what they're thinking. "There was a time when my answer would have been a firm 'yes.' Prior to my meeting with the boy, I had heard rumors that his parents held a deep-seated hatred toward our kind." The truth is a knife to my gut. "I confess that I had brushed them off. You know how rumors have a tendency to exaggerate. After meeting and learning more about Danny Phantom, it shocked me to hear how accurate those rumors were." They pause. "I understand that this may be hard to hear-"

"Just say it," I choke out. "I need to hear it."

Reaper hesitates a moment longer. Their soft spoken voice carries a mix of sadness and sympathy. "My shock turned to fear and disgust when he came to me with grievous injuries given to him by his own parents." I wonder bitterly if the scar on Danny's side was one of them. "Eventually, I asked him why he stayed with those who so deeply frightened him."

Another knife, this one straight through my heart. "What was his answer?"

"Love. Plain and simple. Despite everything, Danny Phantom's love for his family, ghost and human, is undaunted. I have assured him more than once that he has a place here, and I am not the only one who has offered him sanctuary, yet he remains loyal to you and your wife."

A tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away.

"I feared for him, but I would never force him to choose. That being said, as we both know, his situation has changed dramatically in recent months. I see it in the way he carries himself now versus then. Since your acceptance of his ghost-half, he has been happier, more relaxed. There is a spring in his step that wasn't there before. You live with him, so I am certain that you have noticed as well."

A small smile graces my lips. "Yeah. It's nice to see."

Even with the shadow of depression always lurking behind him, my son is so much happier now.

"To answer your question, Jack Fenton," Reaper says, "I do not think that Danny Phantom would fare better among ghosts. His heart lies within the human realm. Even in his worst moments, he admits that he could never stay away for good. As his parent, I continue to worry about him, but not for the reasons I once did."

I nod, feeling a little bit better. "Okay. I don't think I'll ever stop worrying either. Comes with being a parent, I guess."

"Perhaps it does. And, speaking of worry," Reaper leans forward, "when Danny Phantom was filling me in, I got the sense that there was something he was leaving out."

Wow, this guy is good at reading people. "Did Danny tell you how the kids died?"

"He told me that one was beaten to death, but that is the extent of what I know."

Danny might get mad at me for saying this, but Reaper needs to know. "One of them… One of them fell down some stairs and cracked her head open."

Reaper brings their hand to their "mouth" in a gasp and sits straight up. "Did he…?"

I shake my head, shivering at the memory. "No. I caught him in time. Barely. Reaper is there any way to stop him from…reacting to the visions like he does?" I'd rather ask if Reaper can make the visions stop altogether, but I have a sinking feeling that that's not an option. Besides, I know for a fact that Danny wouldn't like that.

Reaper hums and cups their "chin." "I have been meaning to teach him how to make charms."

"Charms?" I repeat. "What are those?"

"Charms are objects that have been infused with a ghost's energy. This allows them to do certain things that they would not be able to do otherwise."

The description sparks something in my brain. "Are you talking about cursed objects? My wife and I have come across a handful over the years."

"The objects you speak of are most likely charms made by ghosts. Your son's scythe, for example, was charmed by me to come to him when summoned. My own scythe works the same way." Reaper demonstrates by letting a massive curved blade with an intricate wooden handle appear in their hands. "Only ghosts of a certain level of power are capable of making charms, and I have no doubt that our son is more than capable of such things."

"Can you not call him," I wave my hand between us, "our son? It feels kind of weird."

Reaper chuckles. "He technically is our son," they will their scythe away, "but I see what you mean. Anyway, I will gladly assist Danny Phantom in creating a charm that will prevent him from being harmed by any future visions."

I blow out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Thanks, Reaper."

"Your thanks are not needed. I crave his safety as much as you do." They rise to their feet, and I do the same. "Shall we seek out Danny Phantom?"

"Let's," I say.

"One more thing," Reaper says when I start for the door. "I wish to give you some advice. Well, it is less 'advice' and more 'warning.' Danny Phantom has a big heart, one that bleeds for all creatures and holds a limitless capacity for love. But, the biggest hearts are the most easily broken. Remember this."

Danny

Dad must have brought up my almost-trip down the stairs to Reaper, as my grim offered to help me make a charm that would stop me from being turned into a wanderer's puppet. If that wasn't such a good idea, I'd call Dad out on it.

My duplicates carry the GAV through the Ghost Zone while Dad and I sit inside. Reaper gave us the coordinates for Rosa's lair, but I want to make a few stops first. I don't tell Dad why or where, only that it's important.

Truth be told, it's only important to me.

Out of the three wanderers, four if you include the unborn baby, Amelia's death rattles me the most. It's the context. I keep imagining myself as Nicholas, waiting for a girl who isn't coming, getting more and more worried as time goes on. Or, as Amelia, with a baby in my belly, one who is being threatened by a mad woman with a wire.

Thank goodness, Dad is too enamored with the Ghost Zone to notice my mood. He gazes at everything we pass with a childlike wonder. It reminds me of a toddler who was brought to a toy store for the first time. I know what that looks like, because I brought Bub to a toy store a few weeks ago to get him some new art supplies, and he seemed to have a religious experience.

When we're near our first stop, I have my duplicates drop the GAV on a floating rock close by. Dad is not happy when I insist that he stay inside with my duplicates as guards. The person I'm meeting with won't have a problem with him being there, but I can't be certain about other ghosts.

And, my girlfriend sometimes has other ghosts in her lair.

The floating purple door has no adornment besides the laminated white sign with the words "Dead Girl's Diner" written in black Sharpie. The sign makes me smile every time I see it. When Mira died, she lamented over her dream of opening a restaurant being ruined. Since then, she's not only embraced her new form but turned her lair into a restaurant. Ghost's don't need food, but a lot of them cook and eat for fun. Or, if you're Mira Scott, you do it because food is your Obsession.

I step through the door and enter the diner. It's an inviting place with hardwood floors and cream-colored walls adorned with pictures of Earth stuff and cartoon, anime, and video game characters most of the patrons probably don't recognize. A handful of ghosts are eating and chatting, but it's not busy. This doesn't surprise me. Since ghosts don't need money, operating mainly through a trade system, Mira keeps pretty irregular hours.

I walk up to the front desk, ring the little bell, and call, "Hey, lady! What's a guy gotta do to get some service around here?"

Mira walks through the kitchen door with an annoyed frown that turns into laughter when she sees who I am. "Hello, Danny."

My girlfriend stands at just over five feet and is "pleasantly plump," as my aunt Alicia would put it. Mira has green skin, human-like eyes with red irises, and dark green hair that's currently encased in a hair net. Her yellow apron has a huge splash of red on it, and her jeans and sneakers are also splattered. It's probably sauce, but it kind of looks like she just got back from a murder spree.

She sees where I'm looking and explains, "There was an accident with the marinara sauce."

"I thought I smelled tomatoes," I quip.

Mira ignores that. "You here for lunch?"

"Well, you've got me craving spaghetti," she rolls her eyes, "but I'm not here for food. Can we talk?"

Mira sees my shift in mood and leads me back to the kitchen, where various foods and utensils are moving themselves as if the kitchen is full of workers. Mira recently gained the power of Telekinesis, and she's been playing with it ever since.

Mira takes off her apron and lays it sauce-side-up on a table. "You're not about to break up with me, are you?"

"No!" I assure. "No, no. It's-it's not that kind of talk. Don't worry."

Mira blows out a relieved breath. "Good. You scared me a little. So, what's up?"

Seeing how perfectly fine she is, sauce explosion aside, I feel kind of embarrassed now. "I can't stay. I'm kind of in the middle of something. I just…" I rub the back of my neck, feeling more stupid by the minute. "I needed to see you."

"What's wrong?" Mira asks. I hate that I'm worrying her. She knows about my zig-zagging mental health. She worries about me enough as it is.

I sigh. "It's a long story, and I promise to tell you about it when it's over, but… I-I met this girl, and…something…horrible happened to her, and-and I just started thinking about you, okay?" My voice cracks at the end.

"Well, as you can see," Mira spins around with her arms out. "I am totally fine."

"I can see that. Sorry. I, uh, y-you know me."

Mira rests her hands behind my neck. My heart rate picks up as I respond by pulling her closer. "You mean that you're a massive worrywart?" she teases.

"The word you're looking for is protective."

"A massively protective worrywart?"

I smile and press my lips to hers, relishing the cool, marinara-flavored touch. It's a gentle kiss, one that's meant to love and comfort. I need that as images of Nicholas waiting and waiting at a train station stick to the front of my mind. How long did he wait for Amelia? Did he go looking for her? Did he ever find out what happened?

If it were Mira, I would never stop searching.

My lips start to tremble against hers. I pull away before she can notice. "I should go. My dad's waiting for me. He's been helping me with this."

"Whatever this is," Mira says as she grabs her apron and puts it back on, "you better fill me in later."

"I will." A thought occurs to me just before I can leave the kitchen, and I spin around. "If you were pregnant, you'd tell me, right?"

Mira gawks at me, opens and closes her mouth a few times, then says, "First of all, random. Second," she flicks her index finger between us, "we've never had sex-"

"That doesn't mean anything! Not-not I think you'd- I trust you implicitly but, you know, stuff happens-"

"And third, now I really want to know what's going on."

A pregnant girl close to us in age cracked her head open on a staircase while escaping from people who were trying to force an abortion by holding her down and shoving a wire up her vagina. If I say all that, I'll end up in Mira's arms and never leave.

Instead, I say, "I'll tell you. I just need to see how this story ends first."

Apart from asking me if I got what I came for, Dad is quiet during the flight to the next destination. He must sense how much I don't want to talk.

My next stop is even more out of the way of the coordinates Reaper gave us, but I need to confront Rosa with a clear head. Which is something I won't have if I don't check on my son and girlfriend.

The girlfriend part has been taken care of, and my heart barely managed to stay intact. Let's see if the same can be said about my imprinted son.

Bub's door looks similar to Mira's but without the sign. Granted, all the lair doors look relatively the same, but a ghost always knows the difference.

I knock on Bub's door and call, "Bub? You home? It's Daddy."

"Daddy!"

The door flies open, and a very happy one-year-old crashes into my chest. He gives me no time to return the hug before yanking me inside to show me his latest art project.

Bub's lair is perfectly suited to a toddler. The walls are a cheerful yellow, and the floor is a soft, lush carpet. Various toys are scattered about, some of his drawings hang on the walls, and there is bed that would be the perfect size for me. Bub used to have a crib, but after a sleepover at my house, he decided that he wanted a "big boy bed," so his lair provided.

Coming here is always bittersweet. Now that my human parents are accepting of me and the ghost half of my life, I would love nothing more than for my son to live with me on Earth. Alas, Bub is much happier in the Ghost Zone. What kind of father would I be if I forced him into a life he didn't want?

"Look at that!" Bub commands, pointing to the thing that was definitely not there the last time I visited.

A piece of white poster board almost as big as the carpet lies on the floor. It's covered in tiny footprints of all colors.

The sight springs a laugh out of me. "Did you walk all over that?"

"Yep," Bub says proudly. He swings in the air and waves his gray bare feet in my face. "I used my feet! I dipped my feet in the paint, and then I walked and I walked and I walked." He emphasizes this by making walking motions.

"Well, it looks great," I praise.

Against my will, I think about how Amelia and Nicholas never got to enjoy little pleasures like this. They never got to see their child smile or get so excited over their achievements, no matter how small they might seem-

I have to go before my emotions spill over.

"Look, I can't stay," I say. "I have to do something really important. Your lair was on my way," no, it wasn't, "so I thought I'd say hi really quick."

"Okay. Oh!"

Bub flies over his canvas and examines it for a minute. Then, he comes to some decision. He holds out his hand-

-and blasts a bright purple Ghost Ray at the poster board.

My mouth falls open as my son uses a power I didn't know he had to cut off a corner of his project. "You can use Ghost Rays?" I say in shock.

Bub gives me a funny look. "You mean, that's not my fire powers?"

A prideful, disbelieving laugh bursts out of me. "No, little man. That was a Ghost Ray!"

"Oh," Bub says.

How long has he had that power that he's so nonchalant about it? It burns that I missed him developing it, but it's still wonderful to see. Bub's moveset includes Ghostly Wail, Ghost Sense, Pyrokinesis, whatever switching between legs and a wispy tail is called, and now Ghost Ray. Bub is developing powers at a rapid-fire rate, just like his old man!

As Bub picks up the piece he cut off, I mentally send a hearty thanks to whoever blessed me with this wonderful little boy.

Yet, more thoughts of what Amelia and Nicholas missed out on chisel through my heart.

"This is for you." Bub hands me a decent-sized piece of poster board, big enough to contain about a dozen colorful footprints, cut in a way that only whole footprints are shown. "I didn't really think the size through, so I'm gonna cut it up, and-and I'm gonna give it to people."

Little pieces of my heart break off. "That's so sweet."

"Yeah, Pap," my dad, "was telling me about this thing called, um… I don't remember, but-but it's when you do a nice thing, and the person you did a nice thing for does another nice thing but for a different person-"

"Paying it forward?" I guess.

Bub points to me. "That's it! I'm paying it forward! I will do a nice thing, and they'll do a nice thing, and-and, um, yeah."

I'm going to cry. I need to get out here.

"Guess I better go do a nice thing, then." I kiss the top of my son's head of white hair. "Some kids really need my help. I should get back to helping them."

"Okay." Bub gives me another hug. This time I squeeze him back with the arm not holding the poster board. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too."

He returns to his project, and I see myself out.

I lean against the door and stare at the tiny footprints until they blur together and go green from the ectoplasm filling my eyes. I press the top of the board to my forehead and angle it so my tears won't ruin the paint.

It isn't fair. Nicholas and Amelia could have had this. This could have kissed each other in the kitchen and received gifts from their little bundle of joy. And, what about Louis and Benjamin? And, that kid who Ms. Wade said was denied medical treatment? Surely, they had loved ones. The other kids knew what was going on, but they were too afraid of Rosa to ask for help.

That's why I'm here. I wasn't around to save all the innocent children trapped with that monster, but I can help the ones who remain.

Like I told Dad, helping people is more than my Obsession; it's my purpose, the sole reason I exist. Hard to believe it took something this serious for me to realize that.

I won't let those kids down.