Author's note: I tried to make the wait for this one a little shorter!


Disillusioned

I don't know how to talk to you

...

He could see nothing but he felt everything.

His insides were scorching as knives tore through him and gloved fingers ravened his skin.

And then in the darkness, two shiny orange lenses. Staring at him.

And he knew he knew he knew he was going to die.

No, he knew he knew he knew she was going to kill him—

An invisible hand clamped around his throat, another hand pried his mouth open. Something was shoved inside, something that cut his tongue—a razor blade—and it was going back and back and back and down—

He sat up and clawed at his throat, trying to spit out the razor before he swallowed it. He reached in his mouth and felt around, and after a few seconds of finding nothing, his senses returned to him.

He was in his room. Trace amounts of moonlight streaming in through the cracks of his blinds faintly outlined his closed door, his bed frame. He could see his dim reflection in his mirror on the wall.

Not real.

A dream.

He threw his blanket off of him and swung his legs over the side of his bed, propping his elbows on his thighs and pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. His fingertips gripped at the top of his head, the sweat laced in his bangs.

He breathed. Deep, one, two, three and out, one, two, and three and four…

He lowered his hands and stared across his room, into the darkness. His sleep shirt clung to his spine, damp with sweat.

He couldn't even remember what his dream was about anymore. He had no idea why he was so desperate to spit something out.

All he could remember now was the fear, the panic, the absolute certainty that he was about to die.

He didn't want to remember anything else.

He checked the digital clock on his nightstand. The hour felt late, that eerie haunting feeling so often felt at three in the morning. But it wasn't even midnight yet. In fact, he had only gone to bed an hour earlier.

He peeled off his damp shirt and turned his pillow over to the dry side. He pulled up his blanket and lay on top of it, staring up at the ceiling with his eyes wide open, adrenaline still spiking under his skin as his whole body trembled.

He was afraid to sleep again.

He had no idea what he might see next if he dared to close his eyes.

The following morning, Danny looked himself over in his full-length mirror. Spring was already warming into summer, but he wore a shirt with long sleeves anyway, one of the new shirts his mom bought him. He wasn't sure if the scars on his arms were actually all that noticeable, but he didn't want to be worrying about anyone seeing them all day.

He turned, watching the way his jeans slid down his hips. He sighed and lifted his shirt to tighten his belt one more notch. He caught a glimpse of a surgical scar carved into his abdomen and quickly lowered his shirt to cover it again.

He stared at his reflection some more and studied his face. His skin sank in slightly beneath his cheekbones, and his blue eyes looked icier than ever under his black bangs and above the dark circles fading into his pale complexion.

But what did he use to see in the mirror?

He honestly couldn't recall.

A knock at his door, and Maddie walked in without even waiting for him to answer.

"Hey, honey." Maddie shut the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

Danny furrowed his brow, not sure what sort of answer she wanted.

"Your dental implant," said Maddie. "Is your jaw still sore?"

Danny reflexively pressed his tongue to the temporary cap covering the metal implant screwed into the very back of his lower left jaw. He placed his fingertips against his left cheek. "It still hurts."

"But it doesn't feel hot or anything? Let me look."

Maddie swiftly closed the gap between them. Danny's heart pounded as he took a step back, but she didn't seem to notice as she cupped his face, turning his head so she could get a better look at his jaw.

Memories of being in the dentist's chair drifted into Danny's head. He was lying almost flat, a bright light shining in his face as the oral surgeon poked and prodded inside of his mouth, staring at him behind protective glasses.

Danny dug his nails into the armrests, fighting the urge to jump up and run away from this scrutiny, this research, this horribly familiar feeling of being a specimen on a lab table that had to lie still and suffer through whatever another person wanted to do to him.

Maddie was in the corner of the room, arms folded, waiting, watching.

"How exactly did you lose this tooth?" asked the oral surgeon. His mouth was covered by a mask but the frown underneath was apparent.

She gave him a choice in the lab: Would he rather have his arm boiled or a tooth extracted? He chose to lose a tooth. She propped his mouth open and reached inside, all the way to the back. His jaw seemed to break as ectoplasm flooded his mouth and she held up the tooth proudly, her latest trophy for her research endeavors.

"He was hit in the face with a dodgeball during gym class a few weeks ago," said Maddie.

"Are you sure that's what happened, Danny?" asked the surgeon.

"Yes," said Maddie. "The boy who threw it had a very strong arm."

"But this doesn't look like it was knocked out," said the surgeon. "I don't see any signs of trauma. This looks like it was pulled out. And are you aware that a sizable chunk of your tongue is missing in the back here, Danny?"

Danny's eyes darted wildly to Maddie, unable to speak even if he wanted to as the surgeon continued poking at his gums with a dental probe and mirror.

"You are mistaken." Maddie came up behind the oral surgeon and spoke right into his ear. "His tooth was knocked out accidentally, and his tongue is fine."

"Danny, is that really what happened?" asked the surgeon.

Danny stared up at the oral surgeon with the violating instruments still in his mouth. The surgeon's eyes suddenly flashed red, his expression blanking.

"Yes, that is what happened," the surgeon murmured. "I can see that now. Yes, I can schedule a dental implant procedure this week."

Danny continued staring up at the oral surgeon's ghostly red eyes. One winked at him, and then they faded back into hazel.

The surgery had taken place a little under a week ago, but the pain still radiated throughout his lower jaw, aching and throbbing anytime he clenched his teeth.

Maddie's gloved fingers gently passed over his left cheek. "It still looks a little bruised."

"Yeah. I still need to cover it with makeup."

"Here, let me—"

Maddie went to Danny's dresser and grabbed the makeup there. She returned and wet a sponge with some foundation.

"I can do it myself," said Danny.

"Turn your head for me," said Maddie.

Danny obediently turned his head as she started dabbing foundation onto his jaw and cheek.

"You healed so quickly in the lab," said Maddie while she worked. "Even your bruises usually only lasted a day or two. I guess I got used to that about you."

Danny stiffened. Because he hated that there was a time when he also "got used" to being abused in that lab.

And he still wasn't sure if he had "got used" to being in his own bedroom and home again.

Maddie took a brush and swept a layer of setting powder over his jaw. "Have you tried transforming lately? Like at night while you sleep? Because maybe being in ghost form would help these bruises heal faster."

"No," said Danny. "I still can't transform."

"Really? You still can't? You've tried?"

Danny didn't answer right away. Because no, he hadn't even tried. Phantom was still locked up, no longer whispering in the corners of his mind or sighing through his veins like he used to.

Not that Danny felt like a normal human again. He could tell the ghost was still inside of him.

But Phantom didn't want to come out. And Danny didn't want to see him anyway.

"I guess I'm still recovering," said Danny. "I told you I can't transform or hold my ghost form when I'm too hurt or weak."

"But it's been over two weeks since…"

Maddie ceased all movement for a moment before applying another layer of powder to Danny's jawline. Danny held back a glare and didn't react, because he knew that she knew she had no right to say that he should have been "all better" by now.

Maddie placed her fingers on Danny's temples and turned his head, studying the side of his face from multiple angles.

"You know…" Her eyes went glassy, vacant with some image only she could see in her head. "When I was extracting that tooth, I remember seeing your tonsils and thinking about taking those out, too. Eventually, I mean, not at the same time I was taking out your tooth."

Danny turned cold, so cold that Maddie's fingers almost burned as they continued caressing his face.

"I just wondered if they served the same purpose as human tonsils," Maddie continued. "I wondered if they would contain a lot of white ecto-cells, like human tonsils contain a lot of white blood cells."

"Why are you telling me this?" murmured Danny, frozen with no power to pull away from her, hoping to God that she would let him go soon.

Maddie blinked, her focus snapping back as she dropped her hands from his face. "Sorry, sorry—I didn't mean—I was just thinking it was a good thing I didn't remove them so they could help fight infection after your dental implant."

"I see," said Danny, tilting his head. "So you're saying you did me a favor."

"I—no," sputtered Maddie. "No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

She tore away, dashing to his dresser and setting down the makeup. She leaned over it, clutching the edge and ducking her head.

She didn't speak for a long time. Danny waited, no longer frozen but shaking as he tried to steady his breathing. He pressed the heel of his hand underneath both eyes, soaking up and brushing away the moisture.

"Danny." Maddie sighed his name, stretching as she straightened and turned back to him. "Listen, you really don't have to go back to school today if you don't want to."

Danny's mouth opened with a response he hadn't thought of yet, quiet for a couple stunned seconds. "I do want to go," he said eventually.

"But you don't have to," insisted Maddie. "School will be over in just a few weeks."

"The email from Principal Ishiyama and Lancer said I can still finish the semester as long as I return to school today."

"Yes, but—"

"If I don't go back today, I'll have to go to summer school so I can still graduate on time."

"No, you won't," said Maddie, sounding almost desperate. "I mean, you don't have to graduate on time. It's okay if it takes you a little longer."

"No, it's not," said Danny. "I want to graduate with my class, with Sam and Tucker."

"I could homeschool you," blurted Maddie. "Then you wouldn't have to go back to Casper High and you could still graduate on time."

Danny stared at her. "You…want to keep me home? With you?"

Maddie said nothing as she stared back and visibly swallowed.

I won't let anyone else have you, she had whispered in his ear in their final moments together in the lab. Words that still echoed in his head and made his skin crawl.

"Please let me go," said Danny. "Let me go, Mom. Please."

Maddie remained silent a couple moments longer.

"I'm just worried about you," she said at last, softly, her eyes glistening.

Danny clutched at his shirt collar, pinching the front of his neck in some attempt to loosen his tight throat. "I'll be fine," he managed to say, unsure if that was true or not.

Neither moved for a couple beats, then Maddie nodded and approached him again, her steps slow.

"That shirt looks good on you," she said, eyeing the length of his sleeves, the hem falling below his waistline. "The jeans are a little big, but they should fit when you…" Maddie cleared her throat. "Hmm. Put all your weight back on."

Danny said nothing.

"Did you try on all the new clothes I bought you?" asked Maddie. "Did you get rid of anything that doesn't fit you anymore?"

"Um. Yeah." Danny walked over to his closet and picked up the cardboard box on the floor in front of it, full of worn clothes that were now too small or too short for him. He placed the box on his bed. "They're right here."

"Thanks, sweetie. I'll drop them off at Goodwill later." Maddie looked him up and down again. "You really are getting so tall. I'm sure you'll be growing out of those clothes too in just a few months." Her breath hitched. "I just remembered, we haven't measured your new height yet—because—"

She covered her mouth with a shaking hand, eyes unfocused.

"Because I wasn't here for my birthday," Danny finished, his tone flat. "You only measure us on our birthdays."

Danny could practically see the memory flashing through Maddie's horrified eyes, how he had spent his birthday strapped down to a cold metal table while she bruised his arm trying and failing to set up an IV line.

Maddie's eyes refocused as she combed a hand through her hair. "That's right. We still have to celebrate your birthday."

Danny shook his head. "No. We don't."

"We have gifts for you."

"I don't need them."

"But we want you to have them, sweetie."

Danny sighed, unsure how else to tell her that he didn't want to acknowledge that he had been alive another year.

"I should finish getting ready," he muttered, turning away to look in his mirror and check out the layer of makeup Maddie had caked onto the left side of his face.

Maddie came up behind him and also studied his reflection. Her hands hovered over his shoulders a moment as if to hold them before she retracted them. "Did you put in the contact lenses yet?"

Danny looked over at his nightstand, where he was keeping his new contact lens case in the drawer.

"No, you haven't," said Maddie. "Do you need help putting them in?"

Danny wrung one finger, cracked one knuckle. "I was thinking…maybe I don't need to wear them. The police already know about the scar, so there's no point covering it up, is there?"

"Danny." Maddie's tone was stern. "If you're going to school today, you have to wear them to make that scar less noticeable so people don't ask questions."

"They're just…huge, and not very comfortable."

"Colored contacts are always bigger than regular contacts. You just have to make sure you put them in properly; you'll get used to them with time."

"But it doesn't even cover up all of the scar."

"No, it won't cover up the scar in the very center, but it'll at least cover most of the scar."

"But it looks fake."

"Of course it doesn't look as real as your actual irises. Your irises are underneath the cornea while the contacts sit on top of it. But it'll only be noticeable up close. Just don't let anyone stare at your eyes for too long."

"But it's not even the same as my real eye color." Danny stared at himself in the mirror. The scar cutting horizontally through his eye stared back at him. "I feel like that might be more distracting than the scar itself, if one eye is a different blue than the other."

"That's why you have to wear the contacts in both eyes."

"What if people notice my eye color has magically changed?"

"Danny, you're the one who wanted to cover this up, remember?"

Danny's lips thinned, no response this time.

"I know this isn't a perfect solution," said Maddie with a small groan, "but it's better than people noticing and asking about it. Please just put both contacts in and stop arguing with me."

Danny looked down at the floor for a quiet moment before slowly nodding.

"Do you need my help putting them in?" asked Maddie.

Danny shook his head.

"Okay. Then one last thing before I go back downstairs." Maddie reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic zipper pouch with a hard-shell capsule inside. "Here's your antibiotic for the morning. With your spleen missing, you're really vulnerable to infection, so we need to be careful with your dental implant."

"It's been fine so far," said Danny, taking the pouch from her.

"It could still get infected," said Maddie. "And since you can't transform to speed up the healing—"

She stopped, but Danny couldn't help catching some implication that his slow healing was his fault, that if he just tried harder, maybe he could transform and get it back up to supernatural speed.

or maybe she just wants to see Phantom again—

"You have water up here, don't you?" asked Maddie, looking around. "Do I need to get you some?"

"I'll get some water from the bathroom sink," said Danny. "But there's just one pill in here. Are there any pain pills left? The ones from the oral surgeon?"

"I think there might be one left." Maddie furrowed her brow skeptically. "Do you need it?"

Danny's chest twinged, his neck warming. "Um… I mean, my jaw still hurts a little."

"A little, but not a lot?"

Danny faltered, inwardly wincing. He couldn't take it back now—his mom might force him to stay home if he said his pain was bad enough for a narcotic super-strength painkiller—but God did he want it. It had been so wonderful and euphoric to finally have a legitimate reason to take the pills, a prescription in his own name.

In those weeks without them, he had never forgotten how good they made him feel. Quite the opposite, he had thought about them every day as he lay shackled to that lab table.

"If there's one left, shouldn't I just go ahead and take it?" asked Danny, trying to sound casual, throwing in a shrug.

"I don't want you going to school drugged up on Vicodin," said Maddie, shaking her head. "If it's just a little pain, I'll give you some ibuprofen."

She started leaving. Danny nearly ran after her, spiked with sudden panic.

"You're not going to throw it away, are you?" he asked, almost panting. "The last pain pill?"

Maddie turned around, her brows drawing together even more, her mouth falling into a deep frown. "Danny, I'm not letting you go back down that road."

Danny froze, screaming and shaking on the inside.

"I let you take those pills because you were recovering from surgery, and…well, I didn't think I had a right to withhold them from you." Maddie sighed. "But maybe I made a mistake. I have to think about your well-being; I can't just let you have whatever you want because I feel guilty."

Danny's fingers curled, his hands gently balling by his sides. Even after all that had happened, even now that she knew the real reason he had been taking all those painkillers—the injuries from fighting ghosts night after night—she still thought he was a drug addict.

"Mom," Danny breathed, "I really don't have an addiction."

Maddie's stern frown softened into something more melancholy. "We'll talk about it later, sweetie. I need to get downstairs to make breakfast. Come down to eat when you're ready."

"You don't have to make anything for me," said Danny, turning to look at himself in the mirror again. "I'm not hungry."

"Danny."

Her tone made him turn back, her expression once again stern.

"You have to eat," she said firmly.

He could feel everything in her words, her disappointment, her concern, her frustration.

He turned from her again with a quick nod, mumbling "all right" under his breath. He pretended to study his reflection, hoping that she would just go already and leave him alone.

In the mirror, he watched Maddie finally leave the room, closing the door behind her. He exhaled and placed an arm up over his head against the mirror.

His relationship with his mom was different now. He could feel it, sense it, tainting every word exchanged between them, charging every hug or brush of her fingers in his hair. A rift filled with tension, unspoken agony and resentment that he forced into hiding deep down inside of him along with Phantom.

And yet, she still had all the control. He was still hers, submitting to her power, obeying her like the good boy she raised him to be.

Things had changed but were somehow exactly the same.