Would you miss me
In a thousand years
Ten: Betrayal
Sam fixed him a glass of sparkling water. He took it and swallowed a gulp, stomach flip-flopping when he noticed her staring. "…What?"
Were her eyes watering, just a tad? "Just wondering if you're okay. That nightmare of yours got me shook. Did I scare you that much? Y'know, when… uh." She trailed off, a blush tarnishing her pale complexion once again.
Per usual, the Obsession urged him to reach out—look, she's blushing, she likes you—but he ignored it. "I'm okay. And yes, you scare me a lot."
"Is that what, uh—" She paused to gesture to her eyes, which were watering. Had he upset her? "—what triggers the red eyes? You feel scared or threatened?"
"No. That's what happens when anyone within my territory is at risk. Shouldn't be a problem anymore if you uphold your end of the deal."
"Is it like, a loss of consciousness? Can you remember what you did when your eyes are red?"
"I retain all of my memories, yes." Then his gaze cut suspiciously to her. "Are you trying to psychoanalyze me or something?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "I do that automatically. What? Too invasive for you? Pardon me if I'm not entirely sympathetic, considering… y'know." She sipped her own glass of sparkling water. "But what I am sympathetic about…" But then she trailed off, her confidence apparently dissolved in the wake of whatever admittance she'd planned.
"My nightmare, I'm guessing?"
"Not just that." Her gaze dropped to the contents of her glass. "Your red-eyed side, would he hurt anyone?"
"Only if it's necessary. Sam—" He locked eyes with her earnestly. "I am not a danger to you."
"Except you've got me trapped," she pointed out.
"No. You could move out, like I said."
"No I can't."
"Why not?"
Sam hesitated, eyes once again glassy. "I… can't go back to my parents."
He retreated into silence for a moment. "Do you really consider your parents more dangerous than the ghost that attacked you?"
"Not physically, but spiritually." She scoffed slightly at her word choice. "Uh, you know what I mean."
"Okay. That's probably none of my booswax but… Whatever malicious spirits await at your parents' home, that's out of my control." He sighed, resisting a dozen urges to squeeze her hand, her shoulder, stroke her cheek, something. "I'm sorry anyway. Under the right circumstances, you'd never have known I was here."
"Well. I just, what I was trying to get at—" She choked slightly. Apparently her confidence crumbled in the face of strong emotions? "I must've been… causing a lot of anxiety for you, y'know, with my habits, and I fear I may have been a catalyst for the nightmare, so…" She screwed her eyes shut, eyebrows pinched with tension. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry."
She'd been tightly wound, shoulders high and knuckles white while gripping the glass. Were it not for that, he would've laughed at the absurdity. "…You don't need to apologize for that."
"I do. I—I don't know what you are, exactly, but you seem human to me and—I shouldn't have been playing with your emotions, I guess, when you're clearly just trying to help." She opened her eyes to glare suddenly. "I mean, not that I want your help. But I'm saying I respect the sentiment."
"Okay, Sam." He summoned that gentle tone again, noticing how she relaxed. "I got it. Thanks."
"Great. That's over with." With an exaggerated sigh, she glanced at the clock. "It's past midnight. I should—wait a fucking minute, where do you sleep?"
"Somewhere else," he answered cryptically. She narrowed her eyes. "Are you against me… popping into your room if you scream again?"
"Uh." Her glare faltered, a blush dusting her cheeks. "It's not necessary."
"But you don't mind," he replied, bravado filling him at the sight of her blush darkening further.
"I guess not."
He'd been half-expecting her to deny it, but then again, she'd been painfully honest with him so far. Wondering if she could feel the heat in his gaze, he cracked a smirk. "Okay. Night."
She stared dumbly while he sunk through the floor.
Danny's confidence dissipated, however, when he fell onto the mattress and de-transformed. On the one hand, he liked the agreement; it ensured Sam would behave, assuming that she rigidly upheld her end of the deal. But also, he could see exactly why she'd proposed it. If he were to let his guard down, she'd infer a lot from context clues alone. At this juncture, he doubted that his alter ego would remain secret for long, and then what? He rifled through the scenarios in his head: Sam blackmailing him, that's very possible; Sam gleaning enough information to be a valuable hostage, also possible.
Let me out, the Obsession insisted. I can control her.
Normally he'd rebuke, but now? Pushed up against a wall, Danny considered this a last resort. One that he may very well have to use.
What if Vlad notices the uptick in ghost activity? Then what? Allow me to reverse this dynamic; she's got you in a strangle-hold.
"You'll scare her."
A hollow laugh echoed inside his head. I bet you she'll like being scared.
Luckily Sam didn't have nightmares that night. Danny seemed to have taken the brunt of those demons. She'd woken up at the crack of dawn, fixed herself breakfast and sat at her table, spoon poised to scoop oatmeal, but then froze and looked in his direction.
"Is there a point to cloaking your presence still?"
He rendered himself visible, despite how it rankled him. "It's a way to minimize our interactions."
"What are you afraid of, a common law marriage?"
He let the Obsession take over here, not enough to turn his eyes but he echoed the thoughts. "That would make you a Queen."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot y'all had a monarchy." She sniffed. "I was expecting something more like, anarchy or feudalism."
"That comment sounds like fishing," he growled, eyes flickering red. "Careful."
She held her hands up. "It's just an observation."
"Save your observations for outer space."
She grimaced. "This rule sounds very open to interpretation."
He shrugged. "I'll let you know when you're toeing the line."
She glared openly, taking a few spoonfuls of her oatmeal before remarking, "Sometimes I like you and sometimes you piss me off."
"Feeling's mutual."
"You should know that I'm planning to have guests over, by the way. They wanna do a whole ghostbusters routine on you," she announced with an infuriating nonchalance.
"With what, a burning sagebrush? That just relaxes me."
"No, tech gear. I don't know a lot about it." She looked up from her bowl inquiringly. "Will that disturb you?"
"Depends. Whose tech?"
"Same company that Tucker works for. But also, I got a text saying that apparently Vlad has more advanced tech he'd like to contribute."
She'd said the name. She said the fucking name.
"Vlad who?"
"Masters." She watched him closely, wearing that look he'd begun to recognize as triumph when she successfully baited him for information. "I got invited to his mansion too, but I guess that's not happening."
"No." His eyes were full red; he zeroed in on her. She leaned away, startled but never breaking eye contact. "Don't go near him."
She frowned, clearly displeased with receiving orders. "Why?"
"Just. Don't," he snarled.
"Y'know, this is feeling disturbingly like an abusive relationship," she went on, oblivious to his snapping resolve. "I can't go out, I can't see certain people, I can't ask questions."
He pinched her chin, guiding her neck upwards until she was eye-level with his hovering form. "Interpret it however you like," he breathed, tone dropping to icy degrees, "but I do all this to protect you."
Her stare hardened. "Someone else told me the same thing once."
That struck a chord in him. Based on what she'd shared so far, he could guess it referred to her parents.
"This is still different." He tipped his forehead against hers, sensing a little shiver running through her. Why didn't she ever `push him away? With his control reclaimed, Phantom's redness subsided and he murmured, "I won't forbid you from seeing anyone else, okay? Just not him."
With a shaky intake of breath, she said, "Didn't like him much anyway."
Taking that for compliance, he released her chin and floated away. "Appreciate your understanding."
She appeared frazzled, stare lingering on him before resuming her breakfast, sporadically glancing at him throughout.
"What if I asked for accommodations?" she piped up when she'd nearly finished.
Accomodations. He'd read about that and discussed it with Jazz.
"For your condition?"
She nodded.
"Depends on what you're asking for."
"I need a private room. One that's dark. One where you can't watch me." When he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, she added, "It's not a trick."
"Then what's it for?"
"I don't wanna say."
"Then I can't provide."
Her nostrils flared. She dropped her spoon with a clank. "If you must know, I need to stim. Alone. In the dark."
"You need to what?"
She looked utterly reluctant to elaborate, resting her head on the table and remaining speechless for several lingering moments. Coming up for air, she said at last, "Flappy hands. Rocking. Jumping. Stuff like that. I need it to function and you've been preventing me ever since I got here."
He frowned, still puzzled by the request. "Why do you need a private room for that?"
"Because I don't want to be seen. I hate being seen in general, but especially not when I'm doing that." She swallowed the last spoonful of her oatmeal, avoiding his gaze for once. "Please? I'll be more emotionally stable. Promise."
He contemplated, negotiating with his Obsession all the while. "That's fine, I suppose. Your gym, perhaps?"
She nodded. "I can tell you when I'm coming in and out."
"Okay."
"Another thing," she said, rising from the table to rinse her bowl in the sink, her back turned to him. "I want to physically see you when you're here. I don't see why not. I can usually hear you anyway."
He shut his eyes, suppressing the urge to sigh that he felt so often around her. "Fine. But I'd prefer to save our talks for the stargazing."
"Sure. I don't like talking much anyway. Prefer the quiet." With her bowl stuffed in the dishwasher, she turned back to him. "So you're okay with my friends coming over?"
His eyes flickered red, if only to warn her. "With Vlad's tech? No."
She frowned contemplatively. "How am I even going to spin that?"
He shrugged.
She placed a hand on her forehead, apparently nursing a headache. "Can I do a background check on Vlad?"
"Nothing will come up."
"Like with Danny?" Again her gaze fixed on him with that laser-focus that spelled trouble.
Let me tame this brat, the Obsession insisted. He ignored it, for now.
"No. Not like with Danny, but his record will be spotless."
"Implying a cover-up?"
He shut his eyes, summoning the Obsession to the forefront. "That's enough."
Sensing danger, Sam had already pushed off the counter she was leaning against, but Phantom rushed forward to grip her shoulders. With enough force to startle, he pulled her to him, only a hair's breadth apart.
"I won't hurt you physically," he warned, "but there are ways I can hurt you spiritually, like your parents did. Do you want that?"
Sam glanced down to the hands on her shoulders, noticing the cold exuding from his palms. "Like what?"
"How about this? You seem like someone who values her independence, yes?" He knew from her lack of answer that he'd hit the nail on her pretty little head. "What if I possessed you?" he whispered, lips grazing her ear once again. "Would you like that? Having no control of your body, your speech, your actions?"
He'd effectively rendered her speechless, eyes wide and glassy.
Although guilt lanced him in the chest, he barreled through it. "Are you finally getting it, Sammy?"
She nodded wordlessly.
"So cute," he cooed. "Where'd that spitfire go? Hmm?"
Her lips parted to answer, but only a soft breath escaped when he carded a hand through her hair, fisting a handful and growling.
"Are you going to behave from now on?"
"Yes," she eked out, cheeks red like his eyes. "I got it."
"Good girl," he whispered, eliciting exactly the reaction he wanted—a shudder, a torpid glance at him that bespoke what she couldn't out loud. "I know you're strong, but I'm stronger. Understand?"
"Yes," she replied shakily.
"That's what I like to hear." With one final tug, he released her hair, but didn't circle away like he normally did. "Now… What can I do to help you calm down?"
"Huh?" she uttered.
"Your needs," he murmured. "What do you need right now to feel better?"
She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. "Uh—I don't know."
"Can I make an educated guess?"
"Um…" She leaned back against the counter again, sunlight pouring through the window behind her and casting a mesmerizing halo. "Okay?"
"Come here." He ushered her gently into an embrace, palm bracing the back of her head. "I've got you."
Sam let out a shaky breath but didn't reply. Her head lulled against his chest, however, listening to the heartbeat that no other ghosts had.
Well, except for one.
After that, the house got eerily quiet. Sam retreated into her gym with all the lights off, donning her headphones and disappearing for almost two hours. He wondered if she was truly 'stimming' or simply avoiding him. When she finally exited, however, Sam's hair clung to her head with sweat. He almost asked but remembered her reluctance to even divulge in the first place, and instead hovered out of her path. She headed to her bedroom without sparing him a glance, apparently still miffed.
Look at that. You're already fighting like a married couple.
Suddenly he felt a yank towards her, the Obsession longing to follow. Was this how other ghosts felt around a psychic? A magnetic force that flared in your gut? It would explain why he'd felt drawn to her from the beginning, only able to resist with whatever remained of his humanity.
"How are you feeling?" he settled on asking, trailing after her with a more appropriate distance than the Obsession demanded.
"Temporarily sated," she deadpanned, reaching her bedroom door and closing her hand on the knob. "I'm going to shower."
"So you were really doing that for two hours?" he asked suspiciously, drawing a dirty look.
"Not the whole time. I took breaks."
"Doing what?"
"Hiding from you," she snapped, slamming the door behind her. Danny bristled, phasing through the useless barrier and stopping in front of her. Sam halted, accustomed enough to his jump-scares that her expression barely twitched.
Danny kept his tone neutral. "We agreed you only use that time for... your needs. What else were you doing?"
Her eyes widened in outrage, face coming close. "Do I have to record my every move for you?"
"What," he emphasized every word with dripping venom, "were you doing?"
She glared, cheeks flaring along with it. "Maybe I was trying to exorcise you from my brain."
Phantom's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Uh. Nothing." Her cheeks flared, almost bright enough to match his eyes. "I don't know why I said that."
Phantom continued to stare, gears turning in his head as he eventually cottoned. "Ah," he intoned softly, eyes widening with sanguine passion, "so you were addressing your needs."
She backed away then, but of course, he joined the dance. Her back hit the door and he approached her with aplomb, nose brushing hers. "I could've helped with that, had you asked."
"I wouldn't," she spat, her eyes ablaze suddenly, bristling like a cat whose territory had been trodden upon. "Defile myself with an arrogant fuck like you? Forget it."
"Then why are you calling out to me?" he shot back, thrilled by her rebellious outburst. "Fun little fact about psychics, Sam. Us ghosts can detect your subconscious wants. So when that barely sentient ghost attacked you, it had been responding to your suicidal thoughts, and when I touch you like this…" He tipped her chin upwards with an index finger, gleefully noting how her lips parted in shock. "…I'm doing exactly what you ask."
"Bullshit," she uttered, but he could tell the epiphany was sinking in.
"Is it?" he challenged, waiting for her reaction, waiting for that psychic pull. 'Kiss me,' it screamed. But that wouldn't be enough for him—she had to say it out loud. "I've been showing restraint while you silently beg me."
"Fuck you." She projected all of her rage into that retort, only to catch him off guard by kissing him of her own accord. Even in her lip-lock, her spitfire burned, tongue slipping through before he could even process what was happening. Her tongue traced the contours of his mouth as if memorizing, until Phantom pressed flush against her and growled deep in his chest, reclaiming his dominance enough for her to whimper in the confines of their kiss. To his amazement and delight, she surrendered without any struggle. As if that's what she wanted all along.
Phantom groaned into her mouth, chest dwarfing hers, breasts rising against him in labored breaths. When he released her at last, her gothic pallor had been flushed, lips swollen by the force of it. Before she could even catch her breath, he'd latched onto her neck, nipping where the contusions glowed green and blue, as if to remind her of why she was under his protection.
"STOP!" she cried out abruptly, as if that reminder had been enough to break the spell—and he sensed the truth behind that command, the magnetic pull abruptly reversed.
Instantly he obeyed, flying several feet backwards as if burned by her words alone, and that's what it felt like.
Sam sank to the ground, glossy black hair dragging behind her, panting and blinking away the daze. "Get out! Can you sense that?" she burst out. "I WANT YOU OUT!"
Without any argument, he flew intangibly through the door above her, irises fading back to green as what took place hit him full-force.
It took a long while for Sam to rally her breaths, meltdown on the horizon, threatening to boil over and consume. Sam counted in her head: three-six-nine, three-six-nine. Her favorite combination of grapheme colors, soothing in its consistency. When at last the impending meltdown had been neutralized, she dug her phone out of her pocket and re-read the text exchange with Tucker for assurance.
So you're sure this thermos will actually contain any ghost? Including the one I saw?
Absolutely; I trust Vlad.
Great. Can you make sure it looks like a normal thermos too? I'm going to pretend we dismissed that plan and catch the ghost by surprise.
Sure. Though I'm not sure Paulina will like this. Apparently she's got a thing for this ghost? I don't know…
Let's keep it between us then.
Alright. I mean, it's your haunted house.
Thanks. I'll see you in a couple weeks when I've finished redecorating.
Can't wait!
Dropping the phone, she tipped her head back against the door, gaze upturned to the ceiling. She anticipated that Phantom would interrogate her, hence the excuse she had at the ready, a script she played out perfectly. While kissing him had been an excellent distraction, she hadn't accounted for the reality of its effect, nor the valuable tidbit of information he disclosed. Psychics projected commands? And the lower ghosts, ones that were sentient but perhaps not sapient, responded accordingly to whatever subconscious whispers she transmitted through the aether?
Well, fuck. She rewound the events in her mind, delicately tracing her slightly swollen lips. Why did Sam feel guilty? Utterly guilty, powerfully sympathetic to her captor's plight? Could she have developed Stockholm syndrome in the course of a day, even if the evidence for said syndrome was flimsy at best?
Or had she simply been attracted to him all along?
Yes. That's it, isn't it? But it's got no bearing on her plans. While she may have developed a minuscule crush, Phantom had impinged on her freedom. Or whatever piece of it she had salvaged from her parents, anyway, and that she could not abide.
Still, she thought, reflecting on Phantom's nightmare, I'm sorry.