Author's note: I've been told that I don't give much in the way of catharsis...


Disillusioned

I can't believe this is happening

He couldn't move. He couldn't talk. He couldn't breathe.

A gloved hand lunged for him, wrapped tight around his neck and pinned him down to a cold table, forcing all the remaining breath out of him. He tried to pull in more air but his body would not obey. He couldn't even struggle against the shackles around his wrists or the hand crushing his windpipe, his muscles were entirely paralyzed.

Another gloved hand pried his mouth open and shoved a tube down his throat, deeper and deeper, grating and cutting open the soft tissue of his trachea. He could feel chilled ectoplasm trickling into his lungs, gaping wounds inside of him.

And then air pushed in through the tube, forcibly expanding his lungs, and he couldn't even scream. He could only stare up at a pair of shiny orange goggle lenses, tears blurring one eye, his scar blurring the other.

Another set of lenses appeared above him, tinted dark. Sunglasses. A man in a blindingly white suit. His hands were also gloved and coming toward him, large fingers raking down his chest, splitting him open, ectoplasm spurting through the ripped skin and flooding the table beneath him.

He couldn't move but he could feel it all. Tearing pain that burned through all his nerve endings, shocking them over and over and Danny still couldn't scream and had to wait for more air to be pushed into his lungs and then sucked out again and again and then the man's hands were clamped onto his shoulders shaking him shaking shaking—

"Danny, sweetheart—"

Someone was reaching for him again and Danny jumped to get away, kicking up his legs, ramming his heels into the assailant's arm, falling off the bed. He gasped for air, his heart pelting his ribs as he lay on the floor on his back, his legs bent with his feet still up on the bed, tangled in his blanket. The back of his head throbbed and his shoulder blades ached as he stared up at the ceiling, his ceiling, familiar even without the glow-in-the-dark stars that he had removed because he could no longer remember why he ever liked them.

Maddie peered down at him from the other side of the bed. Bright sunlight streamed in through the window, the blinds pulled all the way to the top. Sunday morning.

"Danny?" Maddie rubbed her arm, her mouth twisted in a worried frown. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Danny moaned and curled his fingers in his hair. "What the hell, Mom?"

"I know, I'm sorry. I know you don't like me waking you up," said Maddie. "But we really need to talk."

Danny brought his legs down to the floor, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His thumping heart began to slow.

"So, um…" Maddie turned her face away, a small bit of color washing over her nose and cheeks. "Do you think you could put some clothes on and come back up on the bed?"

The room suddenly felt cold, air from the AC blowing on his exposed chest, pocking his bare skin with goosebumps. Danny realized he was wearing only his boxer briefs, his sleep clothes in a rumpled heap on the floor next to him.

He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on over his head, then climbed up onto the bed and stretched his blanket over his bare legs. Maddie remained turned away until he was fully covered, but Danny had no idea why she was acting so bashful about his state of undress. It wasn't like she had never seen him in his underwear before. She had forced him to strip down to his boxers multiple times in the lab. And a couple times, beyond even that.

He had felt so vulnerable every time her eyes wandered over his nearly naked body, the feel of her gloved fingers trailing down his arms and chest and abdomen, searching for an opening or weakness that she could exploit.

He hated the way she made him feel in those moments and now it quite honestly pissed him off that she was acting so shy now, giving him privacy when she never offered it before. This same woman who kept entering his bedroom without even knocking, shaking him awake when he was deep in his latest nightmare.

He knew the real reason she was turned away now. It was not out of respect or modesty, no, it was because she didn't want to see what she had done to him, the scars she had left all over his body.

But to be fair, Danny didn't want to see them either. He was always careful to avoid looking in the mirror when getting dressed.

Maddie at last turned back to him, still sitting on the edge of his bed. Danny took note of her appearance, her face fully polished with makeup and dark red lipstick, a black and teal skirt suit instead of her normal jumpsuit. But it was Sunday; where was she planning on going all dressed up like this?

Danny caught a whiff of the musty dried sweat in his shirt and suddenly he really wished Maddie would leave so he could take a long shower, wash this film of salt off his skin, cry without anyone hearing or bothering him.

"I was just hot last night," he muttered, gesturing to his pajama pants still on the floor.

"Are you feeling sick?" asked Maddie. "Do you have a fever?"

She reached for him, her fingers stretching out to feel his forehead. Danny's heart rate spiked as he batted her hand away.

"No, I'm fine," he said irritably, not about to tell her that he had thrown off his clothes in the middle of the night because they were drenched with sweat after yet another night terror woke him up.

Maddie pulled her rejected hand back in and began rubbing her arm again, kneading her fingertips into her skin. "You've got a pretty strong kick there." She smiled. "Not that I'm surprised. You've got a strong arm, too." She placed both hands on either side of her face, gently twisting her head to one side and producing a few soft popping sounds. "My jaw still clicks from when you punched me."

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, well, I was literally fighting for my life."

Maddie's smile cracked, but Danny's expression did not change as he held her gaze. He remembered punching her, in that makeshift arena outside the lab, surrounded by a ghost shield. He remembered the way his knuckles cracked against her jaw, the way Maddie gasped in pain.

He remembered thinking for one small moment that maybe, maybe he could beat her. Maybe he could earn his freedom.

But of course he couldn't. And he didn't. He fell to his knees and she dragged him right back to the lab to torture him some more.

But why was she bringing this up now? Did she expect him to feel sorry for hurting her? Was he supposed to apologize?

Danny kept his facial muscles taut as he waited for her to speak next.

"Well, I'm sure this is going to bruise," said Maddie, once again massaging her arm. "Seems those karate lessons I had you take paid off."

"Not enough." Danny shrugged. "Obviously."

Maddie pressed her lips together and looked down at her lap.

"What do you want?" asked Danny, sitting up straighter and folding his arms.

"Well. Our family is all leaving today. Most of them got an early start this morning and are already gone," said Maddie. "We don't have to worry about entertaining them anymore."

A small shiver traveled down Danny's spine. "What did you tell them about me yesterday?"

"I told them the truth," said Maddie. "I said you weren't feeling well."

Danny couldn't argue that it wasn't the truth. The day before, he had stayed in his room all day long, pacing the floor or lying in bed trying to get at least some sleep because he had been up all night plagued by paranoia, sure that the Guys in White were going to break down his door or crash in through his window any minute. Maddie had only entered a couple times, once to bring him food and water and another to let him know that she, Jazz, and Jack were leaving to hang out with their visiting family members. She did not ask if he wanted to come along. He had a feeling she wouldn't have allowed him to leave the house even if he did want to.

The plate of food still sat on his desk, uneaten, untouched.

"Considering what they all saw on Friday, they seemed to understand," Maddie continued. "But they certainly did have a lot of questions."

Danny flinched, already embarrassed about how he had freaked out while Jazz was opening her graduation presents.

"But Vlad pulled through, had some of his ghost employees overshadow them," said Maddie. "His ghosts could not make them forget the incident entirely, but they were able to reframe the memories. Vlad thinks just one overshadowing will be enough for them. It's not like how it is with Dad."

"And how is Dad?" asked Danny nervously. "I mean, what is he thinking? He didn't try to talk to me yesterday."

"No, Vlad made sure to keep him away," said Maddie. "Very heavy damage control was needed for this situation. Vlad had to overshadow Dad pretty much the entire day yesterday. He seems to be under control this morning—he's down in the lab—but we have to keep a close eye on him."

Danny nodded, seeing no point in arguing about his father being overshadowed anymore. He pulled his knees up, his legs still under the blanket as he rested his crossed arms on top of his knees. "What about Jazz?"

Maddie sighed through her nose. "She's pretty suspicious. But she's trying to pretend she's not too concerned. Possibly some kind of psychology tactic she got from one of her books." She paused. "I think we both need to be cautious around her."

"You don't think overshadowing her is the answer?" asked Danny, raising a brow.

"Vlad doesn't think it would be wise," said Maddie. "Since she already knows about you being a ghost hybrid and is close with Sam and Tucker, Vlad says she would likely figure it out if her memories or actions were manipulated in a way that didn't make sense to her. And even if she didn't figure it out, Sam and Tucker would notice something was wrong for sure." Maddie held up both hands in defeat. "All three of them would have to be overshadowed twenty-four seven, and that's just not feasible."

"It's not right," corrected Danny.

Maddie bit her lip and looked down at the bed. "Well. As I said, we need to be careful around her." She shifted her weight, turning her body more fully toward Danny. "But we also need to talk about the Guys in White."

Danny's heart startled. He glanced at the window, imagined an operative dressed in white shattering through the glass.

Gloved hand reaching for him—

"I didn't really put two and two together before," Maddie continued, "but I have seen white vans around the neighborhood, sometimes even following me when I'm driving. Vlad's pretty sure they haven't made a move yet because they're waiting for incontrovertible proof that you're Phantom. Legally, perhaps they cannot abduct you until they are certain you are a ghost."

Abduct him—

And take him where—?

Danny ducked his head and clamped both hands on the back of his neck. His skin burned his cold fingers.

"Our best strategy is to not let them get that proof, throw them off the trail." Maddie scraped her bottom lip with her teeth. "And I have an idea to do that, but, ah… Well, it's something Vlad came up with, actually."

Danny furrowed his brow. "What is it?" he asked warily.

Maddie hesitated before opening her mouth to speak, but a knock at the door made her close it again. She turned to look at the door.

"Danny?" called Jazz from the other side. "Can I come in?"

Maddie turned back to Danny, her eyes wide. Danny met her gaze and shrugged.

"Yeah," said Danny, quickly reaching his leg to the floor and kicking his pajama pants underneath his bed. "Mom's in here, too."

The doorknob turned, and Jazz pushed open the door. She was already fully dressed for the day. "I thought I heard Mom's voice," she said, taking a few steps into the room before stopping and holding out a hand in a gesture toward Maddie. "What's with the suit?"

Maddie smoothed a crease in her skirt with a couple fingers. "I'll be speaking with my lawyer this morning."

"About what?" Jazz's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked back and forth between Danny and Maddie. "What were you two talking about?"

Maddie fidgeted, wringing her hands in her lap over and over. Danny looked at her curiously, waiting for her to come up with some lie like she always did. As her silence persisted, Danny breathed deep and gathered his wits to answer for her.

"Mom was just telling me how everyone left today," said Danny, pulling up his blanket to make sure his bare legs were still covered.

Jazz's eyes narrowed even more, her mouth scrunched tight. Danny attempted to keep his best innocent poker face, but he could feel sweat prickling the back of his neck.

But then Jazz shrugged and relaxed, her scrutiny falling away as she nodded and smiled.

"Right, yeah," said Jazz, sounding oddly cheery now. "You missed out on some fun with the family yesterday. We went to the science museum, drove out to the lake, went to Barbecue Box for dinner."

"I wasn't feeling well yesterday," said Danny.

"Are you feeling better today?"

Danny sucked the inside of his cheek as he sincerely considered her question. He was still afraid of the Guys in White barging in and taking him away, incontrovertible proof be damned, but the jittery panic he had felt Friday night and all day yesterday had waned. His blood was no longer throbbing with painful adrenaline.

"I guess so," said Danny.

"Good." Jazz held up her phone. "Because Sam and Tucker have been texting me, and they really want to hang out today. You know, kick off the summer."

Danny glanced at his own phone on his nightstand. He wasn't even sure if it was on; he hadn't charged it in a couple days.

"Yeah, they tried to text you," said Jazz, as if reading his mind. "But they said you haven't been answering all week."

"Uh. Yeah." Danny scratched his neck and turned back to Jazz, ignoring Maddie's anxious squirming. "It's been a busy week."

"Yeah, they get that," said Jazz, nodding. "You had to study. Makes sense."

Danny resisted raising a brow, put off by Jazz's obviously faux display of understanding.

"But school's over now," Jazz continued. "No more studying or homework. Sam's invited all of us to hang out at her place today."

Now Danny really did raise a brow. "Sam's mom hates me, she would never let me come over."

"Sam's parents are actually out of town this weekend. Some fancy wine-tasting event. Mrs. Manson will never know you're there."

Danny sat up straighter.

"Come on." Jazz grinned. "You know you love playing video games on their giant movie screen."

Danny looked at Maddie. Her alarmed face was hidden from Jazz at this angle. Danny was unable to return a coded expression of his own.

"I don't know," said Danny. "I mean, maybe not today."

"Oh? Do you have plans today?"

Jazz's eyelashes flitted. Danny knew exactly what she was after, the real reason she wanted to take him to meet Sam and Tucker. Another explanation for his latest breakdown on Friday, why he was in his parents' bathroom with all their prescription bottles scattered across the floor.

And he knew he had to go. He had to find some new way to explain himself this time. Some new lie that his friends and sister would accept.

He had been too afraid to leave the house yesterday, but if the Guys in White were going to take him, they surely would've done so by now. And it wasn't like he was somehow safer at home than anywhere else.

Besides, Sam's mom was gone, which meant he could maybe take a look through her medicine cabinet. When was he ever going to get a chance like this again?

Maddie's lips were pressed so tight that Danny couldn't even see them. She jerked her head in a barely perceptible shake. Danny gave her the tiniest shrug.

"No plans," said Danny, looking at Jazz. "Today's fine."

"Great. I can drive us over whenever you're ready," said Jazz.

"Sure. I just need to shower and get dressed."

Jazz smiled and left the room. Maddie jumped up and shut the door before turning back to Danny, her hands bracing the door as if to prevent Jazz from reopening it.

"What are you thinking, Danny?" she hissed in a low whisper. "Going out to see Sam and Tucker? With Jazz? I just said we need to be careful around her."

Danny reached under his bed to grab his pajama pants. "I don't have an excuse not to. And I have to tell them something." He stood and threw the pants on his bed. "If Vlad says they can't be overshadowed, then I'm the one who has to come up with some story to explain what happened on Friday."

Maddie's eyebrows lowered. "And what story are you thinking?"

Danny looked out the window. He saw no white vans parked along the curb.

"I might have to tell them that the Guys in White know who I am," he said, just above a murmur.

Maddie bit her lip and pressed a thumb into her palm. "About that—the Guys in White, I mean—"

Danny held up a hand to stop her. "Mom, I can only deal with one problem at a time. We can talk more tonight when I get home."

He walked to the door and held it open for her. Maddie looked out into the hall, then at the plate of uneaten food on his desk. She picked it up with one hand, replacing it with an antibiotic capsule.

"Promise me you'll eat this morning," she said.

Danny hesitated before answering, "Okay."

Maddie's gaze moved across Danny's room, to the wall that he used to hide his stash of narcotic painkillers behind. But she said nothing more and stepped out into the hall. Danny shut and locked the door behind her.

An hour later, Danny was fully dressed and showered when he met Jazz in the hallway.

"Here," said Jazz, pressing a foil-wrapped pack of toaster pastries against his chest. "Mom didn't cook breakfast this morning."

Danny placed his fingers over the pastries, his stomach grumbling as if on command. "Thanks," he said, then frowned at the messenger bag slung over Jazz's shoulder. "What's with the bag?"

Jazz glanced down at the bag. "Oh, I've just got a lot of books to return to the library later."

Her hand rested on the bag's flap, her fingernails curling into the dark brown canvas. She was smiling, but her eyes seemed nervous.

"So we're going to hit the library before heading to Sam's place?" asked Danny.

"No, no, I'll probably go when you three decide to play video games," said Jazz, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Danny squinted at her, but then he shrugged. Jazz often checked out five to ten books at a time, after all. Enough to need a bag to carry them.

He really needed to relax.

As they descended the stairs into the living room, Jack came out from the kitchen, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand.

"Do you two know where Mom went?" he asked, looking around the living room as if she were maybe hiding somewhere.

"She said something about meeting with her lawyer," said Jazz, pursing her lips. "You don't know what that's about either?"

Jack sighed and shook his head. "Your mother doesn't tell me anything these days," he grumbled. He crossed the room and opened the door leading into the basement, carefully holding his full mug as he disappeared down the stairs.

Outside, Jazz's car was parked by the curb in its usual spot, but Maddie's car was gone.

"Do you know what Mom wanted to talk to her lawyer about?" asked Jazz as she moved around to the driver's side of her car.

"No idea," said Danny.

He pulled on the handle for the passenger side door but stopped when he realized that Jazz was staring at him over the roof of her car.

"What?" asked Danny, his insides flopping and knotting up.

Jazz lowered her eyes and shook her head. "Nothing," she muttered, opening her door and climbing into the driver's seat.

Danny opened his own door and settled inside. He watched as Jazz placed her messenger bag in front of her chair behind her legs. But why wouldn't she place the bag in the back seat?

It was as if she were protecting it, like she didn't want anything to happen to it, or perhaps she wanted to prevent Danny from grabbing it and seeing what was inside.

No, no, he was overthinking. Danny sucked in a breath and blew it out.

The Guys in White had really put him on edge. Relax, relax. He couldn't even see any white vans in the neighborhood as Jazz started driving in the direction of Sam's house. He was safe. For now.

He dutifully ate the toaster pastries Jazz had grabbed for him, an attempt to convince her and maybe even himself that he was totally cool, completely fine.

But the knot in his gut did not loosen.

Ten minutes later, Jazz pulled up to the curb outside Sam's enormous house, parking right behind Tucker's dusty Nissan Sentra. Soon after that, Sam opened the front door and welcomed both of them inside. Tucker was standing at the bottom of the staircase leading to the bedrooms on the second level.

"Hey, guys," said Jazz, shifting the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder. "Thanks for having us over, Sam."

Sam waved a hand in dismissal. "This is the best time to have you over. I only like my house when it's empty."

She led the way up the stairs, walking past Tucker. Tucker gave Danny a small smile but did not say anything as he turned to follow Sam. Danny trailed behind the group, holding onto the elegant banister as he took one stair at a time, past ornate light fixtures and lush oil paintings mounted on the wall.

At the top of the stairs, Danny stopped and stared in the direction of Sam's parents' bedroom. He imagined their huge bathroom, the gilded cabinet fixed above the sink and the prescription narcotics he knew were nestled inside, completely unguarded while Sam's parents were gone.

"Danny?" Sam's voice. He could tell she was frowning without even seeing her face. "You coming?"

Danny blinked and turned to follow the group to Sam's room. He stepped inside and looked around. It had been two months since the last time he was here, but it was still the same as he remembered it: the spidery canopy bed with a satin red duvet, a collection of vintage music records propped up next to an antique record player, a dark oak desk littered with impressive sketches of human bodies twisted into intricate poses, a red velvet Victorian tufted armchair in the corner. Unlit candles perched amid eclectic knickknacks and gothic decor on Sam's dresser. The candles were unneeded in the bright sunlight that streamed through Sam's large window, the luxurious curtains pushed aside.

Familiar, yes, very. And yet Danny felt uneasy, like he really, really shouldn't be here, like maybe this was a mistake.

Sam shut her door, causing Danny to jump as he turned back to look at the sight of his only exit blocked.

"I thought your parents weren't home," said Danny.

"They aren't," said Sam. Jazz and Tucker stood off to the side, unmoving.

"Then why did you close the door?" asked Danny.

Sam exchanged looks with Jazz and Tucker. "We just want to talk."

"But we don't need the door closed for that," said Danny, growing leery.

Sam smiled weakly. "Force of habit, I guess."

Danny waited, but Sam did not open the door or walk away. Jazz grabbed the Victorian armchair from the corner and dragged it next to Sam's bed.

"Here, Danny." Jazz patted the seat. "Sit here."

They were all smiling at him now. Watching him.

Danny knew exactly what they wanted. No initial pretense of video games or a quick match in Sam's home bowling alley this time. No, they wanted to talk about his meltdown on Friday right here, right now.

Fine. No sense in delaying the inevitable. He had rehearsed his story in the shower, he was ready.

no, you're not.

Danny lowered himself into the armchair. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker took a seat on the edge of Sam's bed, facing him.

"What did Jazz tell you two already?" asked Danny.

Sam and Tucker furrowed their brows and looked at Jazz before turning back to Danny.

"About what?" asked Sam.

"About Friday," said Danny, trying not to sound too impatient.

"Jazz's graduation?" offered Tucker, sounding unsure.

Danny stared at Tucker. Sam and Jazz also looked blank. Were they messing with him?

"Oh, no, you must mean—" Sam cleared her throat. "Yes, Jazz did tell us about how she was opening her graduation presents with your family and then you suddenly jumped off the couch and ran upstairs."

"Like you were scared of something," Tucker added.

"And, uh…" Sam wrung her hands, popping one knuckle. "You went to your parents' bathroom and were…maybe looking for painkillers?"

Sam popped another knuckle. Tucker clutched at his knees. Jazz shifted her messenger bag onto her lap.

"So good of Jazz to keep you up to date on everything going on with me," said Danny, narrowing his eyes.

"We're all worried about you, Danny," said Jazz, not shying from his glare. "And we feel useless because you refuse to tell us how we can help you."

Danny shrugged. "Who says I need help?"

Jazz also shrugged. "Trying to raid Mom and Dad's bathroom cabinet for painkillers might be saying it."

Danny locked eyes with Jazz, staring her down, but she did not falter or even blink. He could see Sam and Tucker fidgeting on either side of her.

At last, Danny blew out a breath and sank back in his seat. "It's not what you're thinking," he said quietly.

"And what is it we're thinking?" asked Jazz, both eyebrows raised.

Danny held back a groan. God, he did not want to do this right now. "I mean, I wasn't just looking through Mom and Dad's meds for no reason. Something happened on Friday. After the ceremony, when everyone was on the football field."

He paused, readying himself before taking the plunge.

"Dash came up to talk to me," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse as his mouth dried. He swallowed, but his gums felt tacky against his tongue. He forced himself to keep talking, about how Dash had tried to talk to him at school the previous week and finally managed to get him alone under the bleachers after the ceremony. How nervous Dash was because a couple of men had approached him and asked him about his relationship with Danny. How Dash thought the men were cops set on implicating him in Danny's disappearance. How the men were reportedly wearing white suits.

"The Guys in White," said Sam gravely.

Danny nodded, the name alone making his throat tighten.

"And they were asking about you," clarified Jazz. "Not Danny Phantom? You, you?"

"That's what Dash said," confirmed Danny.

"Oh, my God," said Tucker. "I really thought they were too stupid to ever figure it out."

"We can't know for sure that they did," said Sam. "Surely they would've taken Danny already if they did."

"Did they talk to anyone else?" asked Jazz.

Danny thought for a moment. "I think they might've talked to Principal Ishiyama and Lancer. But Dash told me that he didn't think they talked to any of his friends."

"And they haven't spoken to any of us, right?" Jazz looked between Sam and Tucker.

"No," said Sam and Tucker, shaking their heads.

"And we know you best of all," said Jazz. "You would think the Guys in White would interview one of us if they seriously suspected that you're Danny Phantom."

Danny released a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding, a welcome sense of relief as his lungs deflated, perhaps even a little hope.

"Not necessarily," said Tucker. "They know that Dash and Danny aren't friends, so they probably thought Dash wouldn't even tell Danny they talked to him. If they were to interview us, they know we'd definitely tell Danny about it, and they probably want Danny to be off guard when they move in to capture him."

Hope and relief instantly vanished as dread and fear flooded back in, swirling deep in Danny's gut. He gripped the armrests of his chair as he glanced at the window, feeling sick as he imagined a ghost-hunting federal agent crashing through.

Sam reached behind Jazz and smacked Tucker upside the head. "When are you going to learn some tact, Tucker?"

Tucker scowled and rubbed the back of his head. "Okay, but am I wrong?"

No one spoke. Danny watched Sam, Tucker, and Jazz closely, the concern in their eyes, the worry lining their faces.

Exactly what he wanted to see.

"Well, anyway." Danny cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on the armrests, ready to bring this conversation to an end. "You can see why I've been on edge."

Jazz, Sam, and Tucker exchanged looks. They then turned back to Danny, stony and solemn.

"We can't see it, actually," said Jazz.

Danny froze. Even his heart seemed to stop beating.

"You've been acting jumpy for weeks," Jazz continued. "You're just…a completely different person now. And we don't understand why."

Sam and Tucker nodded in agreement. Danny looked at each of them, his head swiveling as he tried to make sense of this derailment.

"Did you not hear that the Guys in White have been stalking me?" asked Danny snappishly.

"No, no, we heard that." Jazz held up a hand in concession. "And that is indeed very disturbing, and we definitely need to talk about that some more. But that's not why we wanted you to come here today."

Jazz's mouth pursed as she clasped her hands in her lap. Danny narrowed his eyes at her before trying to look at Sam and Tucker, but they both refused to meet his gaze, their eyes on the floor instead.

He forced himself to keep facing forward in his seat, to not turn around and glance at the closed door behind him.

"And why did you want me to come here today?" asked Danny, his voice low.

Jazz took a deep breath. "We need you to tell us what happened while you were gone."

Sam and Tucker lifted their eyes. The four of them stared at each other in silence for several moments.

"I already told you what happened," said Danny, air shaking his lungs.

"We mean the truth, Danny."

Jazz crossed her arms and shifted her weight on Sam's bed. Her eyes never left Danny's.

"We know you weren't really being detained in Walker's prison," said Jazz.

Danny breathed in through his nose. "Really?" he challenged, his heart thumping against his ribs. "And just how do you think you know that?"

He stared at Jazz hard, hoping to call her bluff because surely she didn't have any proof of this claim, surely she was just hoping he'd fall for it and confess all his lies but NOPE he was much too smart for that and they would never break him down—

"We found Wulf," said Sam. "In the Ghost Zone."

Danny conjured an image of the hulking werewolf ghost, often on the run from Walker who was forever obsessed with reclaiming his escaped prisoners.

His stomach sank as he realized the kind of hole Wulf could put in his story.

"We talked to him. Well, Tucker did." Sam gestured to Tucker with one hand. "He's the only one who can speak Esperanto well enough."

"And what did Wulf say, Tucker?" asked Danny, his eyes piercing right into Tucker, again hoping to call a bluff.

Tucker shrank back, but then he leaned forward again, tipping his chin up. "Wulf has some connections in Walker's prison, guards he's befriended and bribed to help keep Walker off his tail. And he told us"—he looked over at Sam and Jazz—"that at no time in the past couple months were you ever arrested or held prisoner by Walker."

The following silence was thick as Jazz, Sam, and Tucker waited for a response. Danny could feel panic rising in his throat but he beat it back down with several hard inhales.

"Hmm." Danny swallowed and tried to keep his voice steady. "And you trust Wulf over me, do you?"

Tucker shrugged. Jazz stuck out her bottom lip and trailed her fingers down the flap of her messenger bag.

"Wulf has no reason to lie," said Sam, unperturbed.

"And you think I do?" snapped Danny, his anger flashing hot because it was the only way to hold himself together now, the only way to keep his panic under control.

"I think—" Sam sighed, loud and harsh. "I think the way you're acting doesn't make sense if you really were just locked up in ghost prison and that's it. We've all known you a long time now, we've all been fighting ghosts alongside you for a long time now. We've been there with you, we've seen firsthand what you go through." Sam held out a hand toward Danny to gesticulate her point. "You've been thrown in jail before. The Guys in White have chased you before. You've even been tortured before."

Danny shuddered but tried to hide it by scratching the back of his head.

"You've had a lot of horrific experiences," Sam went on. "But you never had breakdowns like what we've been seeing in the past few weeks." Her eyes glimmered with tears. "You never shut us out like this."

Danny glared at her, his own eyes burning with tears. He folded his arms and turned away from her in his seat.

"Well. Maybe you just don't know me as well as you think you do," he muttered.

Sam was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was bitter.

"I think you might be right about that," she said. "I don't even recognize this person you are right now."

Danny turned back to look at her. He could still see the shine of tears, but her eyes were hard as she met his gaze. Next to her, Jazz and Tucker were also staring at him with deep frowns tugging their mouths.

"Wulf doesn't know what he's talking about," said Danny as calmly as he could, but he could feel his anger bubbling under his skin. "He wasn't even there with me."

"Wulf's not the only one we talked to," said Jazz, crossing her legs and clasping her hands over one knee. "Johnny, Kitty, Klemper, Youngblood—not one ghost can confirm that you were being held prisoner by Walker during the time you were missing."

Danny pressed his lips and breathed in hard through his nose.

"And none of them can confirm you created your own lair," Jazz continued. "They all said either incident would've been huge news if it were true."

"So you've been talking to ghosts about me? Behind my back?" Heat rushed up Danny's neck as he inched to the edge of his seat. "And you've been going into the Ghost Zone by yourselves? Do you have any idea how dangerous and stupid that is?"

"Don't change the subject, Danny," said Jazz.

"You can't believe a bunch of ghosts. You know you can't."

"Why would they lie about this, Danny?"

The heat spread across Danny's face, his nose and cheeks. He crossed his arms and fell back in the chair.

"And why do you keep lying about this?" Jazz demanded. "Why do you not want us to know what really happened to you?"

"Because of this right now," spat Danny, uncrossing his arms and smacking his hands against the armrests. "What you're doing right now, talking to me like this, acting like you three know what's best for me. Why would I want to tell you anything when all you do is psychoanalyze everything I say?"

"So you're admitting that you've been lying to us?"

Jazz batted her eyes in mock innocence, her hands still clasping one knee while Sam and Tucker sat perfectly still on either side of her. The heat in Danny's face cooled into the familiar ice of ectoplasm. He could feel a faint glow pulsing in his eyes.

Danny pointed an accusatory finger, his only option now to deflect. "I know you three talk about me behind my back all the time. 'Poor Danny.' 'What are we going to do about Danny?' 'What's wrong with Danny?' 'How can we help him?'" Danny gripped the armrests with his fingertips as he leaned forward. "Well, you know what? I don't want your help."

"Maybe not," said Jazz. "But you do need it."

She did not flinch as his ghostly glare bored into her, still and composed, unwavering. Danny could feel his temples throbbing, his neck cramping. He pushed his hands into the armrests as he rose to his feet and turned to leave.

"Mom knows, doesn't she?" asked Jazz.

Danny turned back to look at her with a quick jerk of his head.

"I overheard some of what you and Mom talked about on Mother's Day," Jazz elaborated.

Danny turned to her more fully, his lips curling in a snarl. "So you were eavesdropping?"

"Yes, Danny." Jazz jumped to her feet, her messenger bag falling heavily to her side. "Yes, I was. Let's just get that out of the way because I'm not sorry."

Danny rose to his full height as he stared her down, but Jazz only crossed her arms and held her stance. Behind her, Sam and Tucker remained seated on the bed, watching intently.

"What were you two talking about behind that closed door?" asked Jazz. "Was it about what really happened when you were missing?"

Danny's throat tightened. "Mom had nothing to do with it," he forced out with as much strength as he could.

"That's not the truth, is it?" Jazz leaned in close, her face just inches from his. "Danny? Is it?"

Danny stumbled back a couple steps, clutching a hand over his pounding heart, desperate to somehow slow it, stop it.

stop it, stop it—

He turned on his heel, breathing hard to hold down his panic as he walked toward the door—

He had to leave, he had to go

He was not safe here

Sam stepped in front of him, blocking him from reaching the door. Danny stopped and glared at her.

"Get out of my way," he ordered.

Sam shook her head. "No, Danny."

Anger struck through his panic, heating his blood. "You can't keep me here, Sam," Danny bit out. "You know that."

Tucker stepped next to Sam, his eyes deeply serious behind his glasses. Danny's jaw tightened as he sized him up. Although Tucker was still shorter than Danny, he had grown in the last year as well, and Danny hadn't done much to build up or maintain his strength in the past couple months. Danny's stomach knotted with the realization that Tucker probably could physically stop him from leaving.

"Come on, you guys," said Danny, trying to sound confident. "You know I'm a ghost. Move aside or I will phase right through you."

He pushed a flash of ectoplasmic light into his eyes, hoping that alone might convince them because in truth, he was not sure if he could actually summon the strength to turn intangible, not with Phantom still evading him, still cowering in the deepest corner of his psyche.

Sam and Tucker met his ghostly glare, but neither stepped aside to let him pass. Danny pushed more light into his eyes, gnashing his teeth with the effort. He balled his fists and attempted to spark them into intangibility.

Jazz walked up beside Sam and Tucker and reached into her messenger bag. Danny froze when he saw what she pulled out. He stared at the device in her hands, a portable Fenton-patented ghost-shield generator. It was a small one that could produce a shield only the size of a bedroom, but it was as strong and ghost-proof as any of the larger Fenton shield generators.

Danny narrowed his eyes, looking from the device to Jazz's face to her bag still slung over her shoulder. Library books, yeah, right, stupid

"Why do you have that?" asked Danny, his voice hoarse.

Tears pooled in Jazz's eyes as she gripped the device in both hands. "Please don't make me use this, Danny."

Danny huffed, trying to sound indignant as the panic clawed up his throat. "You would really turn that on? Right here?" He threw his hands out in a gesture to Sam's room. "You would really force me to stay here?"

"If I have to," said Jazz in a strained voice, her finger hovering over the power button on the device.

Danny attempted to draw in air but it felt thick and rough. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stood facing him, blocking the only exit, ready to cut off any other means of escape with just the press of a button.

"What are you doing?" gasped Danny. "What is this?"

Jazz hesitated before answering, "In psychology, it's called an intervention."

Danny swayed, the space around him shrinking, expanding, distorting. The toaster pastries suddenly felt very hard and heavy in his stomach.

"We don't know what else to do," said Sam, sounding desperate and frustrated. "We've been trying to be there for you, trying to get you to talk to us, open up to us, but you won't answer our calls or texts—"

"You won't hang out with us," said Tucker.

"You just stay in your room all day every day," said Jazz.

Danny took a step back, looking wildly around the room for something—anything—he didn't know what but surely there was something here that could help him—

"Bowling, going to the movies, playing video games—you used to love these things and now you just want to do nothing—"

"So many new movie releases you've missed and you were so excited to see them at the start of the year—"

"You haven't logged on to play 'Doomed' even once—"

Their words, their accusations, they came in an onslaught, drilling through his ears and between the pounding of blood in his head. He could hardly even tell who was talking as they advanced on him, backing him farther into the room, away from the door.

"Why didn't you tell us about the Dumpty Humpty concert tickets—"

"Your room—Danny, you took down all of your astronomy posters, why—"

"And all of your other things you threw out—"

"Yes, you loved those things—"

"It's not you, Danny! It's not you—"

"You're not you—"

"You're not—"

He was backed up near the foot of Sam's bed now. He looked around again, at the window just a few feet away. He imagined throwing it open and jumping. Perhaps Phantom would finally resurface and let him fly again. Or maybe not. That would be fine, too.

Someone stepped in front of the window, as if reading his mind. He couldn't see who it was through his oscillating vision. His stomach turned and he fought back the urge to retch. God damn it, why did he eat those toaster pastries?

"—never smile anymore—"

"—been so long since we've heard you laugh—"

"—seem to be scared of something—"

"—seem to be scared of everything—"

His lungs were burning, struggling to hold air as he tried to breathe in, in, but his body didn't want it to come in, it only wanted to push it out, out, all the pain and fear and panic OUT—

Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades and down his back and behind his shaking knees about to buckle because he ate those stupid pastries and now he was heavy so heavy too heavy to stand much longer—

"It's like we're not even friends anymore," said Sam.

"We just want our friend back, dude," said Tucker.

"No, it's more than that. We want to help you because you're our friend," said Sam.

"We can't just ignore how you've changed, Danny," said Jazz.

Danny grabbed onto the iron footpost of Sam's canopy bed with his sweaty palms. They were surrounding him now, on all sides, nowhere to break through, no escape—

Trapped—

Imprisoned—

Flashes of being chained up, memories of being restrained, shackled to a lab table, caged inside a ghost shield, his head shut inside a metal box, unable to leave, unable to go, forced to stay and take it all no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he screamed or cried—

His chest ached as he tried to gulp in air. His fingertips were stinging, pain that trickled and webbed into his hands.

"I—I don't want to do this," he panted, his legs wobbling as he gripped the footpost with both hands to hold himself up. The iron was becoming slick with sweat from his palms. "Please. Let me go. Please."

Why was she doing this to him why was she keeping him here why did she want to hurt him why couldn't she just let him go

"We can't let you go," said Jazz. "Not until you tell us the truth."

His hands slipped and his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. His heart squeezed and bounded, so fast he could feel the artery in his neck flutter. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz loomed above, their heads coming together as they looked down at him.

"Something is wrong, Danny," said Tucker.

"Something is hurting you," said Sam.

Danny shut his eyes and balled his hands into fists, attempting to restore feeling in his numb fingers. He sensed movement and opened his eyes to find that Sam, Jazz, and Tucker were now kneeling around him.

Jazz's face drew close to his. "Please tell us, Danny."

Danny shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.

"You have to," said Jazz, gentle but firm. "We can't let you keep this secret from us anymore."

Danny shook his head again. "No, I mean, I can't—" He gasped, his lungs convulsing. His throat closed almost completely, allowing nothing else out. He choked on a sob and covered his face with his shaky hands.

No one spoke for a long time. Through his fingers, Danny could see Sam, Jazz, and Tucker exchange glances.

"All right," said Jazz. "What if we ask you questions, and you just shake or nod your head? Could you do that?"

Danny did not move at first. He fought with his lungs, forcing air deep inside and blowing it out. Gradually, feeling began to painfully needle its way back into his fingers.

He nodded.

"Okay," said Jazz. "Let's get up, then. Let's—"

The three of them held different parts of him, his elbows, his wrists, his back. They guided him up off the floor and onto the bed. They sat beside him, Tucker and Sam on one side, Jazz on the other. Sam held his hand and lightly caressed his knuckles with her thumb. He could smell her perfume, earthy and rainy.

"You're going to be honest with us, right?" said Jazz. "Because this has to be the truth this time, Danny."

Danny looked down at the floor and nodded. No escape, no choice but to give his captors what they wanted.

He was used to this now.

"I guess I'll start." Jazz looked at Sam and Tucker before refocusing on Danny. "First question, um… The night you disappeared, did you really run away?"

Danny thought back to that night. Maddie caught him stealing painkillers out of the locked medicine cabinet in the kitchen and then he ran past her into the living room and out the front door to finally get away from her.

He nodded.

"Did you run away to the Ghost Zone?" asked Tucker.

First he ran and then he flew. He took refuge on the upper branch of a tree, newly flowered, fragrant in the chilly evening air. Nothing at all like the eerie void of the Ghost Zone.

He shook his head.

"Does that mean the story you told us about Walker holding you prisoner was a lie?" asked Sam.

Danny hesitated before nodding.

"Was someone else holding you prisoner?" asked Jazz.

Danny's heart skipped and then hammered hard. A warm flush filled his face, cold dread filled his chest.

"Danny?" Jazz moved so her face was right in front of his. "Was someone else holding you prisoner?"

Down on his knees, his wrists chained to the wall. She grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him to her—

Danny shuddered and nodded. Blood thumped in his ears, turbulent and roiling.

"Was it a ghost?" asked Tucker.

Shiny orange lenses leering at him—

Danny shook his head.

"Was it a human?" asked Sam.

Gloved fingers trailing down his bare chest—

Danny nodded.

"Was it a stranger?" asked Tucker.

Red lips curling into a predatory smile—

Shake.

"Was it someone you knew?" asked Jazz.

He threw a punch and the orange lenses cracked and she tore the goggles off her face and her eyes her eyes he knew them all too well—

Nod.

Jazz lowered her gaze before bringing it back up to Danny's face. "Someone we know, too?" she asked, sounding uncomfortable.

Danny trembled and only just barely managed a nod. Sam was still holding his hand. Jazz took his other hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"Danny, was it Mom?" she asked, soft and hushed.

Tears flooded his eyes and Danny yanked his hands away from Sam and Jazz so he could press them over his face, but the tears pushed through anyway, gushing and leaking through his fingers, burning his eyelids, dripping off his jawline and onto his neck under his shirt, soaking his collar and sleeves.

No air for a moment, his lungs seized up and spasmed and then suddenly he gasped in a breath and he was sobbing. He exhaled and more tears spilled out along with everything else inside of him, all the secrets and confessions he had locked up for so long now tumbling out of his mouth, possessed and unstoppable.

Whispers and soothing words all around him. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were speaking to him, offering comfort, but he barely understood anything they said. He could feel his muscles unclenching, relief as the deep cramping ache in his chest unknotted. He dropped back on the bed, soft satin, cool on his fevered skin. Everything inside him began to fall away, everything outside began to fade. The sunlight through the window, his friends' voices, his sister's touch on his forehead, all of it dissolved into darkness.

When the darkness lifted, Danny's head was pounding. He groaned and sat up, causing a plush purple throw blanket to slide off his shoulder and rumple in his lap. His bleary vision gradually refocused as he looked around. He was still in Sam's room, still on her bed. Nearby on Sam's Victorian armchair, Jazz watched him with a gentle smile.

"How long have I been asleep?" mumbled Danny as he rubbed his sore eyes.

"A couple hours," said Jazz. "Did you sleep well?"

Danny tried to remember anything about his sleep, but it had been deep and dreamless.

"Yeah, actually," he said with a small chuckle. "Best sleep I've had in a long time." He kneaded the knots in his temples with both hands. "But ugh, my head hurts."

Jazz lifted a glass of water from Sam's nightstand and held it out to him. "Drink this, it should help. You're probably pretty dehydrated after all that—" She paused. "Well, we were all crying."

Danny took the glass from her and realized just then how dry his mouth was. He gulped it down halfway, the cool liquid chilling his throat. He sighed contentedly and lowered the glass against his thigh.

"How much did I tell you?" he asked.

Jazz bit her lip and wrung her hands. "A lot." She blew out a shaky breath. "It was…a lot."

Danny felt a blush warm his face and tilted the glass to his mouth to hide it. He gulped in another long drink and then lowered the glass again, smacking his wet lips.

"Where are Sam and Tucker?" he asked, noting that the bedroom door was now fully open.

"We ordered some sandwiches for lunch," said Jazz. "They're just waiting for the delivery downstairs. You still like turkey clubs, right?"

Danny's stomach grumbled, but it was a strangely pleasant feeling this time, a craving for nourishment. "Yeah, that sounds really good," he said, not lying. He downed the rest of the water and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Do you want more water?" asked Jazz, already halfway out of the chair.

"No, thanks," said Danny with a shake of his head. "I'm good for now."

Jazz plopped back down in the chair. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Danny could see all the turmoil behind her kind smile. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much inside of him that still wanted to come out, but he had no idea how to put any of it into words.

Sam and Tucker returned carrying sandwiches, bags of chips, and bottled sodas. Danny quickly unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. His mouth quickly filled with the savory meat and condiments. Oil dripped down his chin.

"How are you feeling, Danny?" asked Sam, taking a seat on the bed while unwrapping her own vegan sandwich. Tucker sat on the bed as well; Jazz remained in the armchair.

"I'm feeling okay," said Danny, dabbing at his chin with a napkin before taking another bite. "Still kind of waking up."

"You slept pretty hard, dude," said Tucker, grinning and chewing a huge bite of roast beef in the side of his mouth. "I thought you'd still be asleep by the time we came back up."

"Yeah," said Danny, lowering his sandwich. "I honestly haven't been able to sleep in a really long time."

The mood in the room sobered. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all looked at their sandwiches and chewed slowly.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys sooner," said Danny quietly, looking down at his lap. "I guess I was just…embarrassed." He creased his brow. "Or maybe ashamed? Or both."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Danny," said Jazz.

"I know. I know that, but I just…" Danny moaned and shut his eyes. "I was just so powerless. I couldn't stop it from happening."

His wrists and ankles were locked against the table and all he could do was lie there and wait for her to assault him again, over and over and over.

"And I shouldn't have let it happen in the first place."

He tried to run, tried to get away, but she wore him down and cornered him because he was weak and tired and stupid.

"And the things she did to me—"

His breath hitched and he jerked his head. No, no, he wasn't going there again, not now.

"I just always thought I was stronger than that." Danny sighed, his shoulders stooping. "It's just kind of embarrassing. I didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even you guys."

"We don't think any less of you, Danny," said Sam. "What happened wasn't your fault."

"Well. Maybe not that," conceded Danny. "But the way I've been treating you guys the past few weeks…" His voice cracked. "I'm sorry I let things get so bad between us."

Sam, Jazz, and Tucker exchanged looks.

"We don't have to talk about this now," said Sam, sounding uncomfortable.

"Yeah, dude, it's okay," said Tucker. "We understand."

Danny tightened his hold on his sandwich, his thumb imprinting into the bread. "I just hate that I made you think that I didn't want to be your friend anymore. You've always been such good friends to me."

Sam stuck out her bottom lip. "Yeah, well… We probably could've been better friends. I feel bad that we had to trick you into coming here this morning."

Danny furrowed his brow.

"My parents really did go out of town for a wine-tasting event," explained Sam. "But I was the one who told them about it in the first place. I encouraged them to go, get out of the house for the weekend. Because we thought—well, we hoped that you'd maybe be more willing to come over with my mom gone."

Danny looked at Sam, then Tucker, then Jazz. No one met his gaze as they nibbled their sandwiches.

"You knew I'd come to try to steal some of your mom's painkillers," said Danny bluntly.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all looked up, their eyes wide with alarm. Danny smiled and laughed.

"Smart," said Danny, raising his sandwich in a gesture of acknowledgement. "It worked."

He laughed again and took a large bite, enjoying the burst of flavor in his mouth. Sam, Jazz, and Tucker watched him eat for a few silent seconds.

"You're not mad?" said Sam tentatively.

Danny chuckled. "Strangely, no. I mean, you were right. That's exactly why I agreed to come here even though I really didn't want to." He breathed out, enjoying the lack of tension in his muscles. "I'm glad you tricked me, honestly. I really needed to get all of that out."

Danny tore off another bite of his sandwich, then another. He was already almost done.

"It's so good to see you have an appetite again," said Jazz with a smile.

Danny stuffed the last bite into his mouth and sucked the grease off his finger. "I haven't eaten much since Friday." He grabbed a bottle of Coke and cranked open the cap, causing the soda to fizz. "Not since Dash told me about the Guys in White talking to him."

He tilted the bottle to his lips and guzzled down the Coke. The cold bubbles tickled his throat, refreshing and sweet.

No one spoke. Danny swallowed and lowered the bottle, releasing a sigh.

"What?" he asked when he realized everyone was staring at him.

"So what you said about the Guys in White was true?" asked Sam nervously.

"I was hoping you were just making that up," said Tucker.

Danny reflexively glanced at Sam's window. "I wish I made it up, too."

"But I don't get it," said Tucker. "If the Guys in White know who you are, then why haven't they swooped in to take you yet?"

"Vlad thinks that they're waiting for undeniable proof, that they legally can't take me until they're positive I'm a ghost." Danny paused. "That's what Mom told me, anyway."

"So that's what you two were talking about this morning," said Jazz, her face dawning with realization.

"She wanted to talk about how we can keep the Guys in White from getting their proof," said Danny.

"Did you come up with any ideas?" asked Sam.

"Not yet. But this is why you guys can't tell anyone the truth about what happened between me and Mom." Danny gave his friends and sister stern looks. "The Guys in White won't have any sympathy for what I went through. All they want is proof that I'm the ghost they're after."

Jazz frowned. "But Danny—"

"No, Jazz," said Danny firmly. "You know that the police wouldn't be able to protect me if the government found out who I really am."

Sam reached over and touched his knee. "We won't let them find out," she said resolutely.

The warmth of her touch radiated through Danny's whole body, washing over him with reassurance and relief. He looked at Sam's window again. But no image of a man in a white suit crashing through the glass intruded his thoughts this time. No, for the moment, he felt safe here. All the paranoia, all the distress from the past couple days, it was gone for now.

Danny popped open a bag of potato chips. Lime and vinegar, his favorite. And it tasted better than ever.

The four teens continued eating their lunch, crumbs littering Sam's satin duvet as their conversation turned to more mundane topics. Gossip about fellow classmates, Jazz's ongoing research into the Harvard college culture, upcoming summer movie releases. The Dumpty Humpty concert even started sounding good to Danny again. Maybe he could go and have fun after all. Why not, right? Shouldn't he be allowed to have fun again?

should you?

Danny shivered and jerked his head, put his smile back on.

shouldn't you still be worried?

A voice nagged at him, wormed through his thoughts as he tried to laugh and joke with his friends. He rubbed the back of his head, as if to somehow smother the voice.

shouldn't you still be scared?

Danny shook his head. No, not right now. Right now, he just wanted to be normal again. Right now, he just wanted to feel like Danny again.

Please just let him have this moment.

no.

Jazz's phone vibrated. She pulled it out from under her thigh and tapped the screen. She frowned and stiffened, her back snapping straight.

Sam and Tucker also received notifications. The same frowns crossed their faces as they checked their phones.

"What?" asked Danny, his stomach fluttering. He patted his front jeans pocket before remembering that he had left his phone at home to charge.

Jazz looked up at Danny, one hand holding her phone in the air, her face blanched. Sam and Tucker were still staring at their phones.

"What?" snapped Danny. "What are you guys looking at?"

Sam and Tucker at last looked up as well, eyes wide. Sam got up on her knees and crawled over to Danny on the bed. She held her phone in front of him so he could see the social media article on the screen. Danny froze as he read the title:

Breaking News: Renowned Ghost Researcher Maddie Fenton Admits to Affair With Ghost Hero Danny Phantom

A video was playing underneath the title. Maddie stood at a podium on the steps outside City Hall, dressed in the same black and teal skirt suit she had been wearing in Danny's room just hours earlier.

"Ever since my son returned home safely, there have been rumors and accusations suggesting that I was somehow involved in his disappearance," Maddie said into the microphone. "This was fueled by the police revealing that I went out every night while he was gone. People assumed that I was holding my son captive somewhere and going out to see him each night. I maintained that I was simply going out each night to continue searching for him. No one believed me because they could not understand why my husband would not join me in these searches. They were right to be skeptical."

Maddie looked down at her notes, then back up at the dozens of reporters standing in front of her. "I want to make it unequivocally clear that I had no part in my son's disappearance by revealing the real reason I went out each night without my husband. I was going out to see another man. I know that admitting to an affair is deeply painful and humiliating, especially for my husband and family. I am profoundly sorry for the hurt this revelation will cause them. However, I cannot allow these false accusations to stand unchallenged."

Maddie gripped the sides of the podium with both hands, ducking her head for a moment before raising it again. "The man I was having an affair with was someone I had grown close to through my research into the supernatural. A man you all know as Amity Park's resident ghost hero, Danny Phantom."

Danny sprang off the bed, nearly tripping over his legs as he jumped to his feet on the floor, his hand covering his mouth and his eyes wide as he continued staring at the phone in Sam's hand.

"I urge the authorities to thoroughly investigate my alibi," continued Maddie's faraway voice from the tiny screen. "I am fully cooperating with the investigation."

Danny's heart raced, his chest cramped, his stomach twisted. All the relief, the peace, the joy he felt just moments ago vanished, replaced with sickening dread and panic. Pain slammed his head, pulsating behind his eyes.

"When did this happen?" he croaked out as he moved his hand down to his throat.

"It looks like it was first uploaded forty-five minutes ago," said Tucker. "We were too busy talking to notice sooner."

Danny stared at Maddie's moving image on the phone screen. While he was sitting on this bed stuffing his face with deli meat and potato chips, his guard completely down for the first time in weeks, this was what his mother was doing, more lies, more deception, more decisions made without asking him first.

His veins bristled and churned and he had no idea what it was surging under his skin this time, anger or agony or frustration or hysteria.

"Danny, did you know about this?" asked Jazz, squeaky and breathless.

Danny shook his aching head, several times. "No. I mean, she was trying to tell me something this morning—she told me she had a plan to throw the Guys in White off the trail—but I had no idea she was going to—"

His nails dug into the front of his neck. Maddie was still speaking on Sam's phone, distant and small.

"I would never hurt my son," she insisted. "I would never do anything to hurt him."

"I have to go," said Danny, though he did not move, still transfixed by the video.

"Go where?" asked Jazz.

"Home," said Danny. "I have to talk to Mom right now."

Jazz stood from the armchair. "Danny, I'm not sure if you should—"

"I have to do this," said Danny. "You can't keep me here this time."

Sam and Tucker were still sitting on the bed, their mouths agape. Jazz picked up her messenger bag from off the floor.

"No," said Danny sharply. "You're not going with me."

Jazz pouted. "But—"

"I have to talk to her alone," said Danny. He power walked to the door, his heart pounding and his head splitting.

"But I drove you here," bleated Jazz. "How are you going to get home?"

Danny was already halfway down the hall. "I'm a fucking ghost, Jazz," he yelled without turning back.

Half an hour later, Danny sat on a bus, hunched over with his arms folded, his face turned toward the window. He had tried to transform, to change over and fly home, but Phantom still refused to be marshaled, so he instead boarded a bus because there was no way he was going to ask Jazz for a ride home after all. Even if she did know the truth about what really happened to him now, he still had to talk to their mother without her.

The bus made its way through the town, getting closer and closer to his neighborhood, dozens of people getting on and off at each stop. No one seemed to recognize him or pay any attention to him at all, but he could catch whispers and giggles of conversation: Hey, did you hear about that crazy ghost scientist? Yeah, the one everyone thought fucked her son? Turns out she was fucking that ghost kid instead, can you believe it?

He grabbed the brim of the baseball cap he had stolen from Sam's dad's closet and pulled it low over his eyes, curling in on himself as much as he could. The jarring movements of the bus made him nauseous, but he managed to keep all the food in his stomach from coming back up.

He never wanted to eat again.

When the bus pulled up to the stop nearest his neighborhood, Danny was already out of his seat. He hopped off as soon as the door opened and began running the last mile toward his house. His chest burned and his lungs wheezed and his head throbbed but he forced his legs to keep moving, ignoring the stabbing pain in his right shin as his shoes slapped the concrete again and again.

He slowed only when he saw a crowd gathered on the sidewalk outside his house. As he drew closer, he could see the crowd was made up of clamoring journalists, local news crews with cameras and microphones, and curious civilians aiming their phone cameras at the house. Of course there were people here, no surprise there. Everyone knew where Maddie Fenton lived; the huge Ops Center and the obnoxious Fenton Works sign underneath were on every online list of notable sights in Amity Park.

Danny shut his eyes and tried to cloak himself with invisibility, focusing so hard that sweat beaded on his forehead. But Phantom was even more elusive now. Danny reopened his eyes and judged the distance to the front door.

He breathed. In and out. Several times.

Then he pulled the brim of his hat as low as it could go and began walking as fast as he could. No one paid any attention to him until he stepped off the sidewalk and began heading up the walkway toward the front door of Fenton Works.

The shouting started almost immediately, cries and demands from the crowd, begging him to come back, Danny Fenton! Yes, that must be him! Come back and answer all their questions about his psycho mother and her steamy love affair with the ghost boy!

Danny kept his back turned to them and gritted his teeth as he stepped up to his front door. He pulled his house key out of his pocket and attempted to keep his hand still long enough to slide the key into the lock—once, twice, finally getting it on the third try. He threw open the door and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind him.

He could still hear the crowd yelling outside. But thankfully, they did not attempt to approach the house.

Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over with one arm propped at the elbow, his hand pressed against his face. He did not turn when Danny walked in.

"Where's Mom?" asked Danny, his voice tight.

Jack slowly lowered his hand from his face.

"I told her not to come home," he said quietly. "I hope you understand."

Danny stood there for a moment, shaking. Then he ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his right shin feeling set to break again as it slammed onto each step. He dashed to his room and shut his door behind him, panting, pain bursting in his skull.

He stuck a hand into his left jeans pocket. Because a baseball cap was not the only thing he stole from Sam's parents. He sifted through the handful of hydrocodone pills in his pocket, pinching one and pulling it out. He popped the pill in his mouth and dry swallowed it, no time to get water. He needed to get rid of this headache and the searing pain in his shin immediately.

He then crossed the room to his nightstand and picked up his cell phone, ripping out the charger. Dozens of unread texts and social media notifications from his classmates, people he hadn't even talked to in months but suddenly they wanted to know all about what the hell was going on with his mom and could he maybe tell them all the dirty details?

Danny ignored them all and opened his contact list. He tapped Maddie's name, but she did not answer. He then looked for the one contact he always hated calling. He tapped to start the call and held the phone up to his ear, his chest trembling as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

The call connected. Danny did not wait for a greeting.

"Vlad? Where is my mother?"


If you're interested, I have written a short bonus scene from Jazz's point of view immediately after Danny's forced confession. It's posted here on Tumblr : wwwDOTtumblrDOTcomSLASHimekitty/769253029338873856/disillusioned-bonus-scene