Frozen Fire Chapter 8: Ain't Dead Yet, a danny phantom fanfic

Frozen Fire

Chapter Eight – Ain't Dead Yet

xXx

Three days earlier.

Hollow.

Tucker was hollow.

He stared and stared at the screen, jaw agape, hardly aware of the position of his glasses where they'd slid down the bridge of his nose. His knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the edge of his desk. This couldn't be real, he thought. This wasn't happening. No, no, no.

But it did happen. He'd watched it.

Sam.

Tucker's eyes welled and a lone tear slipped down his cheek. The room around him was still in chaos. In the distance, the wailing sirens of Amity Park could still be heard, shrill and damning—but Tucker barely noticed any of it.

Not when he'd just watched his best friend get blasted into oblivion.

He'd been monitoring her feed through her microcamera as she'd been hit by the initial blast. Then he'd watched her scramble for the reactor and miraculously initiate it. The resulting shockwave that had rumbled across the entire city had been so intense that he'd felt it thrumming in his bones.

And then, just like that, Sam was gone. Or at least her tech was.

Tucker's hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms.

He had watched them take her. And hadn't been able to look away, even with Damon Gray's frantic commands roaring amid the hysteria from somewhere behind him. He'd simply frozen. Rooted to his chair, watching through the live feed of Dale Barbarra and as those wretched spooks seized Sam under her arms and hurtled her into the skies.

Gone, gone.

Gone.

Tucker felt weightless. His fingers became tethering claws that dug into the flimsy particle board desk.

"My god," a woman whose name he couldn't quite remember cried out. "The girl has done it! The reactor!"

Distantly, he realized the woman had begun sobbing with joy.

Joy.

A scowl morphed the features of Tucker's normally cheerful face into something ugly. His lip curled, and he pounded his fist—hard—into the table, then turned to face the perpetrator of such a heinous sound and glowered at her. He was just about to berate her when his headset crackled with static.

"Foley!" Dale Barbarra shouted through the comm in a hoarse, angry voice. "What the fuck is goin' on?"

Tucker's body began to tremble. In his grief, he'd almost forgotten about the surviving members of Sam's troop. He felt his shame trickle through his veins. Drawing a long, shaky breath, he used the heel of his hand to scrub the trailing tears from his face.

"It's bad," he said with a woeful glance to the monitors. A lump formed in his throat when he realized just how outnumbered they truly were. And the number of spectral entities was still growing.

Barbarra's live feed wasn't promising, either. In fact, Tucker was amazed that the old sweeper had survived as long as he had—or any that any of them had, for the matter. The screen flashed over and over with the bright ectoplasmic charges of weapons and ghosts alike, detonating spook after spook after spook. But they kept coming.

"Well I can fuckin' see that with my own eyes," Barbarra snapped. "Manson got the reactor going. Have that asshole Gray send out some heavy artillery and save our asses, damnit! We ain't dead yet!"

But Sam probably is, Tucker almost said. He had to grind his teeth, hard.

"Foley!" Dash shrieked suddenly though the line. "I'm sorry for all the names I called you when were kids! And I'm sorry for all the times I shoved you into broom closets! I didn't mean it, man! Please save us!"

"Please do something, Tucker!" Kwan's voice next, pitched with desperation.

The slight tremors that wracked his body only moments before had become violent. He wasn't sure if it was his fear, or the energy that surged from the reactor, but he could barely see—could barely breathe.

"Foley," Barbarra said in a somber tone. It took Tucker a moment to realize that Barbarra had switched to his personal channel to talk to him privately. "Do you still have a read on her?"

"No," Tucker replied, not caring at all how noticeably his voice shook. "She's gone."

"Don't mean she's dead, kid. That blast took her down, but she was still fightin' em good when they dragged her back into Amity."

Tucker nodded numbly, then realized too late that Barbarra couldn't see that. But Barbarra didn't wait long for a response.

"Now you listen to me, kid," Barbarra said firmly. "Shit's a little rocky right now. Yer friend is MIA, but we are still here. Whether she's alive or not doesn't matter if these spooks kill all of us. You still got a fuckin' job to do and we need you."

Tucker winced but knew that Sam's mentor was right. He did have a job to fucking do. And though he doubted it, if Sam had somehow survived being dragged into the sky, then she would need all of them to rescue her. Shit, she'd be giving him absolute hell right now if she was here.

He would do this. Keep going. For her.

He had to.

Tucker calmed himself with a breath that reached through his belly and into his very being. The violent trembling of his body stilled, and his sweaty hands uncurled from the clenched, white-knuckled fists he hadn't realized they'd been in.

In the chaos around him, he could just make out the graveled barks of Damon Gray relaying commands through the other data engineers. Tucker spun his chair to see his peers were all in a similar state of buzzing panic, their frantic murmurs a muddled hum, barely intelligible through the muffled wails of the sirens.

Meanwhile, the very walls seemed to teem with the climbing power of the reactor, filling the compound's energy reserves and then some. Lights that had once emitted a dull, flickering glow now blazed brighter than he'd ever seen them. A low drone filled his ears, which reverberated through the floor so it seemed to quake beneath his feet. Tucker focused on that sound, then on the way the vibrations made his teeth dance in his skull.

An idea formed then.

A crazy one—but it was something.

"Sir!" Tucker shouted, scrambling to his feet so chaotically that he only just missed a collision with Damon who was pacing several feet behind him. "I know what we need to do!"

But Damon barely acknowledged him, save for a reproachful look that would have sent Tucker scurrying on any normal day.

Instead, Tucker stepped directly in the general's path and held his ground.

"I know what we need to do," he repeated.

"Not now, Foley," Damon ground out through clenched teeth. "Go back to your station. That is an order."

Tucker felt a vein throb in his forehead. "You already ignored Mrs. Fenton and look where that got us."

At last, his words seemed to resonate with the old, gnarled general. Damon looked at him sharply, a single eye narrowed. "What is it?"

"The tanks," Tucker said. He could feel his heart beating so fast that it threatened to leap from his chest. "With the fusion cells back online, we can power the tanks. We can save them, sir."

"They take too long to refuel. They won't be ready."

Tucker pursed his lips at that, thinking. Damon was right. Even with the amount of raw energy that surged from the reactor, it would still take too long to power the army's heaviest artillery. Tucker couldn't refute him on that.

But—

But they only needed one to make the difference.

"The Fentons' weapons use the same ecotoplasma-fusion tech!" Tucker exclaimed as the idea struck him. If we use the reserves from their lab in conjunction with the refuel cells on just one of the tanks— "

"Then we can preemptively jumpstart the refuel process!" Damon finished for him. "Goddamn, son, that is genius!" Tucker stumbled as he was nearly thrown from his feet when the older man slapped him hard across the back. "Branson! Find the Fentons! Update them on the situation and bring them to the armory on level zero!"

"Let me go with them! I can help them!" Tucker pleaded. He was ready to sprint for the doors when a large hand grabbed his shoulder, stilling him.

"Later, son. Barbarra's troop still needs you."

"But—!"

"You are still needed here."

Tucker was about to argue, but the conversation with Barbarra replayed in his mind in an echo of Damon's words.

"You still got a fuckin' job to do and we need you."

Tucker bit back the retort bubbling in his throat and nodded.

When he returned to his station, he wasted no time and logged right back into the call, just as Barbarra's breathless, heated voice growled, "We're out here getting our asses handed to us and you go on a fuckin' sabbatical? What, did you need to go to the fuckin' potty or something?"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "I had to take care of some things. But good news is that you're getting your heavy artillery that you wanted."

Barbarra didn't respond, but Tucker could understand why. The battle had somehow intensified. Through the livestreams of their microcameras he could see the hues of green and red that stained the battlefield like a canvas of carnage. He had to swallow the bile rose to his throat at the sight. If it was this bad from a room miles away, he could only imagine how horrible it was to see in person.

You can do this, Foley, he told himself with a steely conviction. Whether she's alive or not, you can do this. She would want you to save them.

And then, with a crack of his knuckles and moment to orientate himself within the data, he launched into action.

"Dash!" he shouted. "Entity, level 3 on your left, ten o'clock!"

xXx

Puh-plink, plink, plinkplinkplink.

Jack Fenton tinkered idly with one of his scrapped inventions (a microwave that ran on ectoplamsa alone), though he hardly paid it any attention. His eyes remained fixated on his wife where she paced the length of their lab, her lovely face drawn tight with worry. She'd been this way for some time now, ever since the sirens had started and the tech in their lab began flickering ominously.

"Madds," Jack said gently, patting one of the rickety diner stools nearest to him. "Come take a seat. Please."

Maddie shook her head. "I can't, dear. I just can't. Not until I know she's safe."

"Mom, Dad is right," Jazz said then as she breezed into the room. She was flipping through some pages of a notebook that were full of her delicate scrawl. Probably some notes from one of her patients, he surmised.

Again, Maddie shook her head.

Jack sighed. He dropped the small soldering iron he'd been using so it plinked louder than before and rolled across the scratched stainless-steel tabletop. The sound startled Maddie enough that she spun on her heels and narrowed her eyes on him.

"Jack!" she said, aghast. "Careful with that!"

Jack shrugged. "It's a cheap wood burning iron, Madds. A toy."

"It's all we have!"

Jack shrugged again. Then he crossed his arms and arched a brow at his wife, his eyes flicking between her and the stool beside him.

Maddie puffed another sigh, but this time in defeat.

When she joined him at the table, he immediately threw his arm over her shoulders and drew her into his bulk and his warmth. In her older age, his once formidable black belt of a wife had become frail, her frame now wispy and slight. He felt her sag against him, molding herself into that crook in his arm that she always found so comforting.

"Oh, Jack," she gasped, "what if she doesn't come back?"

"Mom, you can't think like that," Jazz said. She, too, pulled up one of the diner stools on her mother's other side and draped her arms around Maddie's neck. Maddie's hand grasped one of Jazz's scarred ones and held tight.

"I knew something wasn't right—I knew it. Why didn't he—didn't they listen?" Maddie swiped the tears from her eyes. "The readings weren't normal—something was wrong—the emissivity readings were all over the place and the thermal—"

"Madds."

"Oh god, Jack. What if—"

Jack attempted to silence her with a forceful shake of her shoulders. "Maddie."

"I can't lose another one!" Maddie wailed finally.

A horrible, wretched sound lurched form her throat then, and Jack summoned every bit of his own steel will to keep from breaking down right with her. Even after all these years, the deaths of their young children still haunted them.

Jack was certain that his poor, sweet wife was currently reliving every harrowing detail of that night, just as he was. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer.

"Mom, we don't know the details. They could be sounding the alarms as a precaution," Jazz said softly.

"Our girl is right, Madds," Jack murmured into his wife's temple. "Sam's a smart girl. Whatever is happening up there, we know she's givin' 'em hell, ripping them apart molecule by molecule, just like we taught her."

Maddie shuddered in his arms and nodded through her tears. Jack shared a commiserating look with his daughter, who began running her fingers through her mother's hair to help soothe her.

They all jumped when the lights in their lab became suddenly, blindingly bright.

Then the screens to every computer, every gauge cluster and readout flashed, as the hum of raw ectoplasma-fusion energy rushed into the dwindled power supplies of their lab, and everything started beeping at once.

Maddie jerked her head from where she'd had her face buried in her hands and turned to face him, wide-eyed.

"The reactor," Jack said in amazement. "Great buckets of fudge, they actually did it."

He watched her turn to look at the embedded television screen in the North wall of the lab, as if expecting to see an announcement from Damon Gray. The shining seal of the Resistance continued to play on an uninterrupted loop.

"No news yet," Jazz grumbled. She flicked the cap of her pen with her thumb in thought. "Which means whatever is happening to cause the sirens is still happening."

Jack nodded solemnly, while Maddie rose from her seat to begin the long, redundant process of resetting all the computers and alarms. He noticed her long pause near the supercomputer that had the framed photograph of their three children atop it but chose not to comment, though his own heart ached.

Just as he stood to assist her, the doors to their lab were thrown open in haste and Charlie Branson, Damon's assistant, appeared before them, breathing heavily.

"Your presence is required in the armory, level zero," Branson told them between breaths.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "That's practically the surface. We don't have that kind of clearance anymore."

"It's a critical situation, sir."

"What do you mean critical?" Maddie questioned. "Is Sam okay? Where is she? What's going on?"

Branson's lips pursed into a thin line. "I'm afraid I can't say. I was given specific orders to retrieve you both and bring you to level zero, along with your fusion cell reserves."

Jack narrowed his eyes on the mousy, bespectacled man before him. "Why do you need our fusion cells?"

"That is classified at the moment."

With a frustrated growl, Jack stepped closer to Branson so he loomed above the smaller man. "How am I supposed to know what tools to bring or how many power cells are needed if you can't even tell me what I'm doing?" He tried not to let the satisfaction show on his face when Branson visibly shrunk in alarm.

"Mr. Gray would like to use them to jumpstart one of the tanks," Branson squeaked.

Jack felt his jaw drop, just as Maddie gasped in alarm.

"It's that bad out there?" Maddie asked, her eyes welling and glassy under the bright fluorescent lights. "Oh my god. Sam!"

Branson looked like he swallowed something sour. "We don't have much time. My orders were clear that I was to immediately extract you both to—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jack snapped, waving Branson off. He and Maddie had launched into a practiced, efficient unit of assembling the required tools and machinery onto a rolling cart they'd repurposed from an old hospital. Even Jazz was quick to help load the cart, her movements just as familiar to the lab as theirs.

"Jazzypants," Jack called to his daughter. "Grab the gurney. Load that up with as many blasters and bazookas as you can fit."

Jazz's brows knitted. "Why the weapons?" She was already heeding his command despite her query, tossing everything she found onto the gurney, tools and weapons clattering together.

"We can cut the fusion cells out of them," Jack replied as he haphazardly hurled all manners of wrenches and sockets and even his trusty little wood burning soldering iron into a sturdy canvas bag. He snagged a Sawzall and gave the trigger a test pull, grinning at the way it jolted to life in his hands.

"Quit being so dramatic, dad."

"Nonsense, Jazzy-bazzy, it's been too long since us Fentons got some real action. Those ghosts are just lucky they're not dealing with us!"

Branson was scowling now. "We really are pressed for ti—"

"We're ready," Maddie announced fiercely, brushing past Branson to the now heaping cart of supplies. "Care to grab the door for us?"

Branson frowned but complied. "I was only supposed to bring the two of you."

Jack let his grin widen into something wicked and was delighted at the way Branson's shoulders hunched at the sight. He hoisted the large fusion cell from its pod near the mechanical supply corner at the entrance of the lab and lugged it across his shoulders. Branson flinched.

"Fentons stick together," Jack told him definitively.

The three Fentons left him behind as they barreled together through the double doors and down the corridor.

xXx

"Okay, Madds, three more wires and we should be ready to synchronize."

"Dad, where did you say the impact is? And it's a ten-millimeter socket, right?"

"Yes, Jazzerincess, ten-millimeter, and the impact is near the fentoblaster housing."

"Found the impact, but I still can't find the socket. Are you sure you grabbed it?"

Maddie swallowed in an attempt ease the roiling in her stomach. Her hands shook, making the delicate job of wiring the control panel to the gigantic, armored vehicle she was currently straddling even more difficult.

The air here was chilled and slightly damp. She shivered, unused to how being so close to the surface felt after years of being underground. Her breath wafted from her mouth in small, wispy rivulets.

All she could think about was Sam.

In the distance, the sirens still wailed. It was so much louder here at the surface than it had been in her lab. It was almost as if the city was itself was screaming—screaming to her—warning her over and over.

Tooo laaate!

Maddie gritted her teeth to keep her hands from shaking worse than they already were.

"Madds," her husband called from somewhere below her. "Are you about ready?"

"Just about," Maddie replied as she finished her last connection. "How are you two doing?"

"Good, mom!" Jazz called. "Dad and I removed all the fusion cores, and Dad is setting up the synchronizer now."

Maddie cast a glance down toward them. Indeed, her husband and daughter were like a well-oiled machine, which ordinarily would have made her smile, if not for the crowd of military personnel hovering just outside the little bubble of floorspace they'd created in a sea of scavenged tech.

Tooo laaate!

Her hand slipped with her small ratcheting socket wrench, and she hissed in pain as her knuckles collided with the cool, steel surface of the tank. She shoved the wrench into her coat pocket and felt with her foot for the rungs of the tank's ladder to begin her descent. Her old knees protested, but she persevered anyway.

When she was low enough, she felt the warmth of her husband's hands wrap around her shoulders and gently guide her the rest of the way down.

"Ready, Madds?"

Maddie had to force herself to ignore their audience as they closed in on them in anticipation. The energy in the air was both grim and electrifying. They were clearly waiting with bated breath. Whatever was happening out there, she knew it had to be dire.

Tooo laaate!

She swallowed once, twice, then nodded.

"Alright, engaging the synchronizer," Jack shouted as he ran to his station. He pulled the goggles of his HAZMAT suit over his eyes. "Everyone watch out, things are about to get mighty sparkly."

The surrounding crowd of military bystanders shieled their eyes, just as Jazz and Maddie curled inwards toward each other, their hands entwined.

The reaction was immediate.

Bright light that should be blue but was nearly white enveloped the room. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, Maddie flinched away from the intensity of it.

"Holy crap," Jazz breathed. "I'm going to be seeing those spots for a while."

The loud, mechanical whirring of the tank happened next. One by one, old and long depleted fuel cells began to emit the telltale cyan glow of fusion energy. It groaned and stuttered to life, the deep chugging from within its motor filling the room and dulling the piercing shrill of the sirens.

But Maddie could still hear them. No matter how much she tried to tune them out.

Tooo laaate!

One of the men waiting along the perimeter wasted no time and bounded toward her husband and slapped him on the back. "Thanks Mr. Fenton. We'll take things from here."

Jack stared longingly at the tank. "Of course. Just doing our part."

"Are the shields on it functional?"

"They should be," Jack said.

The man nodded, and gestured for his peers to join him, which they did in a chaotic scramble.

They weren't even granted the time needed collect their belongings before they were ushered out of the armory and into the cold, musty hallway just outside of it. Maddie had to brace herself as she felt through the floor and the walls as the tank rolled up the ramp leading to the surface.

"What do we do now?" Jazz asked. "Do we go back to the lab, or . . .?"

"Naw," Jack said, draping his arm over both Jazz's and Maddie's shoulders. "They didn't bother to boot us out of here, so I say we wait. We'll be able to watch for Sam when they start bringin' everyone back in. She'll be so happy to see us!"

Maddie felt her insides twist.

Tooo laaate!

BOOM.

They jumped when the telltale sound of the tank's ectocannons sounded.

"Was that . . . ?" Jazz asked in a voice that shook.

"It was," Maddie affirmed sadly.

Tooo laaate!

They could hear every detonation.

Over, and over, and over, and over.

Tooo laaate!

Then, silence.

Tooo laaate!

So they waited.

Tooo laaate!

And waited.

Tooo laaate!

It was so much colder here, away from the underground depths of the other sectors. They shivered and huddled as close as possible, with Jack drawing them as tight as he could to his larger frame. They waited for what seemed like ages.

Tooo laaate!

Tooo laa—

"The sirens—they stopped!" Jazz gasped.

"Madds!" Jack shook Maddie's shoulders and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. "Our girl is coming home!"

Maddie bit her lip. She didn't know why she knew, but she felt in her very bones that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Suddenly, the echoes of frantic shouts filled the passageways and people began pouring in from the surface level.

Maddie's heart sunk into her stomach at the sight.

Blood. So much blood.

And bodies.

They came in waves, so many people darting in in so many different directions that no one noticed the wayward trio of Fentons tucked away in a damp corner.

Maddie started shaking.

"I told them," She gasped. She swiped tears away from her eyes as if they burned. "The readings were abnormal . . . I—I would know—I—"

Jack silenced her with a forceful shake to her shoulders. "Madds, stop."

"Oh god, Jack, what if—what if they didn't . . . Sam—"

"Maddie," Jack said again.

"I can't go through this again," Maddie sobbed.

"I know, Madds, I know."

"Where is she Jack? Where is our girl?"

"She's coming Madds. She's coming. We just gotta wait."

"Sam is one of the best, Mom," Jazz said, though tears of her own streaked along the scars on her face. Her bottom lip was trembling.

They waited and watched the horrors, the carnage, unfurl from the ectoplasmic pit of hell they'd emerged from. So many of them were injured, so many of them gone, carried or dragged in by their friends, their family. The floor became stained with blood, and even ectoplasm as so many were covered in it.

And then, like phantoms in the wind, Sam's troop floated through the hall—

Maddie jolted to her feet and then gasped in horror when she realized they carried a body.

"It's not Sam," Jack proclaimed.

He was right. As Sam's troop hobbled closer, Maddie could see it was Dick Belair they carried. Bloodied and sightless eyes staring right through her as they passed with him. Maddie watched them, frozen to her spot, unable to move as she counted them.

Over and over, she counted them.

Dale Barbara clutched a shredded arm and walked with a limp; Willie Shoemaker was coughing; a beaten-up Dash Baxter and an equally bruised Kwan Kimura supported the body of Belair.

Even Valerie Gray was there, crying, with patches of hair missing and angry red marks running up the length of her arm where her suit had been shorn . . . but, no, this couldn't make sense. Where was Sam?

Maddie shook herself free of her husband's grasp, ignoring his pleas to stay with him, and chased after Valerie. Surely, one of Sam's friends, even a former one, would know of her whereabouts, right?

Valerie flinched when Maddie gently grasped the girl's arm. She turned at looked at Maddie, wide-eyed.

"Where is she?" Maddie pleaded. "Please tell me where she is."

Valerie's reddened eyes seemed to wobble as fresh tears began to spill along the dark planes of her face. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Fenton. I am so sorry. I tried to save her but—but—"

"No," Maddie said. Then she screamed. "NO!"

xXx

Present.

Sam stared at stone ceiling above her bed, her mind still reeling from the night's festivities. If it wasn't for the alien feeling of fullness lingering in her belly, she might have thought it all a dream.

"The Yeti are not ghosts," Frostbite had told her, purple blood pooling in his palm so the droplets cascaded in streaks along the fur of his wrist. His intelligent gaze had been keen on her, clearly monitoring her reaction closely. And she was sure she didn't disappoint, as she'd dropped her icy challis, shards of ice and droplets of wine sent catapulting around her.

"Wh-what . . ." she'd murmured, not even trying to hide her shock.

"We are not mortal either," the great Yeti king had amended. "Not in ways that you humans are. We are spirits, to an extent. We are beings that never were."

And that had been the end of their talk, as Frostbite had commanded the dinner to its end and sent his incensed patrons on their way, though not before he'd promised Sam a more in-depth conversation later. She'd barely managed a faint nod before Frostbreath whisked her through the doors and deeper into the system of passageways to where she would be staying going forward. The friendly Yeti had prattled on and on—about what, she didn't know as she'd barely listened—until they appeared before what would now be her personal quarters.

Currently, Sam was frowning at her darkened surroundings. She could have done without the dramatic wall of ice that Frostbreath had used to seal her in this room. "For your own good," he'd said with a somewhat rueful grin that showed a row of his sharp teeth. "You will come to understand in due time, human girl, I promise you."

Not a prisoner here, my ass, Sam thought grimly.

With a scoff, Sam rolled in her bed and stared at the flickering flames within an iron lantern that hung from a hook on the nearest wall, observing the shadows that waltzed along planes of rock.

She supposed she should be grateful that the Yeti had brought her here, away from the ice and searing cold. She'd been brought deeper into the network of snaking passageways where a natural warmth seemed to emanate, though the room could be made warmer still by the stone fireplace that had been carved to form a cavernous maw across the room. Smoldering embers seemed to churn within its depth, glowing dimly in the darkness.

Sam sighed. "I guess sleeping is out of the question tonight," she muttered as she rolled out of bed.

Her feet were bare but warm, protected from the chilled stone floor by the large woven rug that covered much of the room. She paced along the room's perimeter, her eyes scouring every nook and cranny of it, if only to distract her mind from the night's events, and other terrible thoughts that loomed somewhere behind them.

Like thoughts of home, for instance.

Sam gritted her teeth against the mist that sprung to her eyes and then shook those thoughts away.

She needed to keep her mind in the present. Worry about Tucker and the Fentons and her mom and her troop later, when it was safe to do so. Focused, she needed to stay focused. She was a trained sweeper, after all, and one of the best for a reason.

And though she'd already evaluated every square inch of her room the moment that Frostbreath had deposited her within it, Sam allowed her tired eyes to scour it once again.

It was on the smaller side and rather barren, but not without its own series of oddities sprinkled about for her to find like clues to a puzzle. The room was lit solely with iron-barred lanterns from each of the walls, and aside every lantern was a bunched blue-grey fabric that reminded her of a curtain, which was a strange sight, as no windows could be found. The same fabric hung from metal rings on a track that was mounted to the mantle of the fireplace, pulled away and tied with silver rope to form an ornate knot.

Sam frowned as she came to stand before the fireplace where she watched orange embers smolder within a pile of shiny black stones but never erupt in flame. She'd noticed earlier that no wood could be found, so how there were even embers in the first place was beyond her. She chalked it up to yet another odd thing in this freakshow of a world and it left at that.

The bed she'd chosen was one of two twin-sized beds that occupied the room, each one adorned with plush furs, silken sheets, and the softest pillows she had ever had the privilege of resting her head upon. The furs themselves were varying shades of cream, grey, and blue, with a patchwork of stripes and spots mottled about them. She wondered what kind of animal they had come from, but then winced at the thought. Something about sleeping in another living creature's skin sent shivers down her spine but she knew she had no other real alternative.

She wandered to her right where the room dipped into an alcove, pushing past the intricate tapestry that hung there. She'd been there already, but she reappraised the small additional room with critical eyes. It was rather nondescript, yet another space carved from stone, but a small protrusion of glass and metal had been built from the wall and had an uncanny resemblance to something familiar from her own world.

Frostbreath's amicable chattering that she'd very nearly tuned out earlier became suddenly clear as she stared at the object. He'd spoken of strange things, like scientifically engineered bacteria and self-composting lavatories, among other things she'd barely been able to discern then in her shell-shocked state.

"Oh, well that makes a bit more sense," she said to no one, stepping out from the small room and returning the tapestry to its former position. She supposed it saved her from the mortification of figuring out how to relieve herself in a cave, and grateful that it was at least human-sized.

Returning to the center of the room, Sam eyed the furthest wall, which was rather bare, save for one of the barred lanterns, though the space between the wall and the colorful rug was large enough that she wondered if something had maybe once been there to occupy it. She rested her hand against the stones there, surprised that though the stones were slightly chilled, they were dry. Considering the cave-like qualities of the room, she'd expected some dampness, especially considering the amount of ice she'd seen in this strange world so far.

She wondered then, her lips pursing so her face creased into a grimace, if she was underground again.

Wouldn't that just be her goddamn luck?

That she'd end up dragged by a powerful ghost and his family of weird abominable snowmen into an alternate dimension in what was probably a frozen wasteland and still end up in some underground hellhole of a pit? Would she ever see the skies and the twinkling stars she yearned for again?

Sighing, Sam felt her body sway as exhaustion settled heavily on her shoulders. She sank to the ground before the fireplace, once again drawn to watch the orange marbling of cinders swirl amongst the inky black stones within.

And despite her efforts to keep them away, the things she'd refused to think about began trickling in and what had once been a light mist turned to rain as Sam curled herself around her knees and wept.

xXx

A warm fire crackled from the depths of a large stone fireplace, its mantle and hearth a carved masterpiece of ornate whorls embedded with precious stones. The flames were tall and hot, causing tongues of warmth to lap over Danny's exposed forearms from where he sat with the sleeves of his tunic rolled to his elbows, slouched in a wooden rocking chair.

There weren't many hearths in the Far Frozen that produced a warming fire, but his father's study was fortunately one of them. The cold never bothered him, but he welcomed the warmth, nonetheless. It did wonders to ease the tension that constantly left knots in his shoulders.

"It is wonderful to see you again, my son. It has been much too long," his father said from where he sat beside Danny in his own, much larger chair. "I trust your most recent journey yielded your intended result?"

Danny sighed heavily. "It did. We finally found Cujo." He frowned down at the flames and crossed his arms, his eyes hard.

"I sense you have more to say?" Frostbite implored, and Danny looked up to see his father arch a brow at him.

"I already told you everything the night Frostbreath and I returned with the human," Danny grumbled.

"Ah yes, the human. Such a creature, she is," Frostbite said with a chuckle. "I am sure there will be much difficulty to be had from her in the future."

Danny scowled at his father. "You don't sound too disappointed by that. You know she hates all of us, right?"

"Hate is a strong word, my son," his father said, with ruby eyes that grew distant as he too turned to watch the flames. "Her mind is clouded by her prejudice, but I sense an inquisitive and righteous nature in her that is most promising."

Rolling his eyes, Danny found he had no response to that and resumed his previous sulk, his chin coming to rest on his knuckles as he brooded. Truthfully, he hadn't known what to make of that scrawny, angry, and mortally wounded human that had challenged him in the dilapidated city. He also wasn't sure how he felt about her being here in his home, considering how violent she'd proven to be, surrounded by his family and those he cared about.

Which was silly, really, because she was powerless here without her weapons, and her frail body was much too weak to do any damage at all. Danny could still see how small she'd seemed, merely three nights ago, when Frostbreath had scooped her up in his massive arms, unperturbed by the blood that stained his fur as a result. He'd demanded she be brought with them at once, even going as far to bare his teeth at Danny as he'd demanded it.

No, Danny realized, it wasn't that her presence was a physical threat to any of them. It was her hatred. And her anger.

He winced as he recalled the taste of those bitter emotions that rippled in the air about her like a venomous silhouette. He knew for a fact that she truly reviled him. Not that he could blame her, really. What bothered him was feeling it directed towards his kin, especially his sister.

But then, that wasn't all he'd felt emanating from her, was it? Because he'd also felt her terror.

He'd sensed it in periodic bursts over the course of the night. Her terror and her despair mingled together with undertones of frustration and loss. He'd seen right through that façade of haughty indifference from the beginning, always keenly aware of the roiling pit of emotion she'd done well to keep from showing on her face.

Danny had tried his best to help her in little ways. Coming to her aide when he sensed her horror upon entering the dining chamber, nudging her through the interactions with his kin, calling out his father when the Yeti king had bumbled disastrously with that knife.

He'd also done his best to keep a respectful distance from her. There was no denying that his proximity brought forth some of that frothing, innate terror that resided within her. He tried not to let it bother him. It wasn't her fault; it was simply a biological response to his presence. Ancients, even his kin had once shared such sentiments, so he was no stranger to the reaction.

He sighed again. Sam Manson's emotions were a token reminder of the ones he'd felt lurking in the ruined mortal realm itself, especially in the city that had once been known as Amity Park. Even though the humans were buried, he'd still sensed them. They were like a hive of misery and every moment he'd spent in that city waiting for the portals to form had felt like a lifetime.

"Something on your mind, Danny?" his father said. "Your eyes glow bright when you are lost in unpleasant thoughts."

Danny forced himself to relax then. It always frustrated him how obvious his emotions could sometimes be unless he was intentionally working to quell them. "Just thinking."

"About the human girl?"

"About the humans in general," Danny admitted. "Their world is in ruins."

Frostbite's chair creaked as he rocked quietly in thought. "And it bothers you."

Danny pursed his lips. Truthfully, he hadn't spent much time around humans—well, closely anyway—even in his years of traveling about their devastated realm. They were volatile and full of the kind of emotions he shied away from, but that didn't mean he hadn't felt some level of empathy for their situation.

Unable to put his thoughts to words, his response to his father was a simple, noncommittal shrug.

"I do believe the human girl is the key," Frostbite said pensively.

"You said as much at dinner," Danny responded with a chuckle. "No pressure on her at all, right?"

At Danny's sarcasm, his father's grin became sheepish. "Perhaps some more tact would have been preferable," he said, and Danny snorted. "But I do believe it to be true, and I do not regret having said it. I believe in the Writings, as do I believe in your mentor."

The popping and crackling of the fire were the only sounds to fill the room as Danny mulled over his father's words. He hadn't believed in those Writings for a long time, but his father did, and perhaps he would humor him for the time being. What was done was done, the human was here whether he liked it or not (and he certainly did not), so Danny figured it would be best to let things happen as they may. The human would continue to reel within her hate and terror of them—of him—until the portals of her realm reopened and he could send her back.

Back to that miserable, broken world.

Danny frowned again. The thought of such a small, fragile creature in that ruined dimension wasn't something he liked to think about, either. Just because she was human didn't mean that the thought of her returning to a world she would suffer in was a pleasant one.

Soft footsteps echoed from the outside corridor, startling Danny out of his broody reverie.

He and Frostbite turned in unison, their chairs creaking, just in time to see Elle as she padded shyly into the study with her shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. She flopped sideways onto the third chair on Frostbite's opposite side, running her fingers through her long white hair as her legs dangled from the chair's wooden arm.

Frostbite welcomed her with one his warmest smiles. "Feeling better, daughter?"

"Wonderful," she muttered. "Absolutely wonderful." Then she looked up through her lashes and the loose pieces of white fringe hanging in her eyes to meet both Frostbite's and Danny's gazes respectively. "Sorry about . . . Dinner."

Chuckling softly, Frostbite reached toward her with one of his long, curved claws and pushed the fringe out of her eyes. "It is quite all right, my daughter. You cannot help how you feel, but I do hope you can manage yourself better next time. The human shall be here for some time, and I do not wish these outbursts to become a regular occurrence."

"Yeah, Elle, one volatile creature is enough," Danny joked with a pointed look at his sister.

Elle sat up straighter and glared at him, her eyes glowing bright in the dimness of the room. "Careful, Danny Phantom, or I'll give you volatile."

"Oh, the horror."

Despite his taunting, Elle giggled and slumped back into the arm of her chair, letting her legs kick freely. She looked at Danny upside down. "So, brother dearest, now that you're back are you ready to help kick some butt?"

Danny frowned again, sobered by the direction of the conversation. "How bad has it been?"

Elle snorted, just as Frostbite said, "The dimensional raids have been becoming more consistent, I'm afraid." His face became grave, the firelight reflected in the deep red irises of his eyes and cast his features in an ominous light. "Though the damage to our kingdom has been minimal thus far, which I am most grateful for, thank the Ancients."

"The Ancients have nothing to do with it, father," Elle snapped, summoning with her cryokinesis a small tendril of polar energy that swirled through the air in a languid arc around her finger. "We've kept them from taking the Far Frozen—and we'll keep doing it," she finished with a growl.

Frostbite narrowed his eyes on Elle. "Your sister still has yet to accept her own limits."

"Sounds about right," Danny deadpanned, though he too gave his twin sister a narrowed look of his own.

"Oh great, the first thing you do when you get back is side with father?" Elle snapped at Danny in exasperation. "As if one overprotective bear wasn't enough, I now have two."

"Did you forget about Uncle Frostbreath?" Danny joked, arching a brow.

"Fine. Three overprotective bears. Happy?"

"Mildly." Danny smirked, crossing his arms. "But what of Sleetjaw and Icefang? Can't forget them."

His sister's face scrunched into a grimace. "You're intolerable." Then she directed the same look at Frostbite. "You both are. I am strong enough to take care of myself."

"My daughter," Frostbite said in a sigh, "we are merely concerned for your health with your core as unstable as it is. You cannot keep doing what you have been alone. It is obvious that it has come to wear on you."

"But I do fine on my own, father," she rebuked. But then seemed to relent a little because she followed that with, "I could maybe use some help though. It's been . . . Getting harder."

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat at his sister's admission. He tried not to let the guilt that began ebbing within him show on his face.

"The past few raids have been close," Frostbite said then, only compounding Danny's fears more. "Too close. I fear what this pattern signifies."

Danny nodded, his eyes drifting back to the curling orange flames. Raids had been intermittent before he left to drift amongst the Infinite Realms. But Elle had proven herself more than capable as a defender, despite her degenerative condition, so he'd had no qualms about leaving her the Far Frozen to defend on her own with the other Yeti. He hadn't realized they'd gotten so much worse.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here," he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Danny," Elle said firmly. "We're okay. Don't forget, I am a good sword wielder. Better than you, remember?"

He smiled at that. It was true, while too much ectoplasmic power utilized in a small amount of time was detrimental to her, Elle was more than capable at physical combat alone. She'd always excelled at it. It also helped that she still had full use of her cryokinetic abilities.

Even still, if things were truly becoming more intense, Danny was glad he was around to help her now.

Elle was watching his expression curiously. Her dark eyebrows were arched high over her eyes. "What was it like?" she asked suddenly with a hushed, secretive voice. When Danny frowned at her in confusion, she quickly amended, "The human realm. What . . . what was it like? What are they like?"

Danny's brows rose, despite his best efforts to not let his surprise show. He'd regaled her with his many tales of the varying realms in the Infinite chain over the years, but she'd had yet to ask about the human realm. Perhaps the sudden presence of their peculiar guest had spurred her interest, so Danny thought long about how best to respond.

"They're . . . Quiet," he murmured.

He then described bits of his experiences over the past few years. How humans were infrequent, sectioned off in small communities about their world, some even buried underground, like Amity Park. He mentioned their cities, their landscapes, and the art they'd made even in the thick of desolation. He'd seen so many signs that a beautiful civilization lurked within the rubble, that plants and trees and sheer life had once bloomed around every corner.

Throughout the tale, Elle's eyes became as wide as saucers. She rose from her slump and tucked her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them in a childlike wonder. Frostbite remained silent and grim, though his eyes sparkled with fondness as he regarded them both. Danny told them everything he had learned about the realm, which surprisingly wasn't much. Sam was one of the few humans he'd ever made direct contact with, while other instances had been mere observation.

He was careful to leave out the absolute brutality he'd witnessed from the humans. Such as the devastation he'd observed in the beginning of Amity's fall, when the city had yet to be completely evacuated. At the brink of their extinction, the humans had been cruel, both to the ghosts and each other. How many benevolent ghosts had he not been able to save because of humans and their need to capture and destroy?

Granted, most ghosts were under the control of the Ghost King, but the aftertaste of their dismemberment was still bitter in his mouth. Danny stifled the shudder that nearly ran through him. These were things he would tell his father when Elle was not around, so for now he told his revised version.

With the conclusion of his amended tale, Frostbite met Danny's eye. "And what state is the material world in now?"

Danny's mouth opened to respond, but he could only shake his head. His father's expression darkened as he turned his head away, working his massive jaw so canines flashed in the firelight. Silence fell once more over the small room, brimming with tension and the grimmest of thoughts.

Frostbite reached forward to stoke the fire. "I fear things are more dire than I originally anticipated. I was hoping to give her more time to recover, but I now realize that I must start the human girl's training at once," he said, and both Danny and Elle looked at him with furrowed brows and obvious skepticism, which caused his father to sigh.

"She's human, dad." Elle's nose wrinkled as if she smelled something unpleasant. "Humans are too primitive to understand anything outside their realm. Not to mention they're so stupid. She didn't even have table manners."

Danny rolled his eyes at his sister, nonplussed by her attitude. "She's not that bad."

"I beg to differ!"

"Alright, enough!" Frostbite admonished. "Humans are a young race, but that does not mean they are anything less than what we are. We cannot win this war alone. With Sam on our side, she may be able to rally her kin in our favor."

"She hates us, even though she knows nothing about us. Not to mention she's a killer!" Elle leaned forward in emphasis, her eyes blazing brighter than the orange flames. "Nothing can change that!"

Frostbite's eyes narrowed. "She is ignorant. If she is truly what you say she is, she would not have let your uncle live." When he saw that his daughter had no argument for that, his gaze softened. "I believe that with time she may come to trust us, but first we must begin by trusting her. We cannot blame her or any of the humans for their ignorance. They only believe what they see in their world, and right now their world is on its path to destruction due to Ghost King's army and plagued by his ghosts."

"Whatever," Elle grumbled, burying her face in her knees. "Just keep her the hell away from me."

Danny chuckled at her behavior. When a green eye peeked over her knee to glare at him, he couldn't stop the wide grin that resulted. It was often hard for him to comprehend how lethal she truly was, especially with how childish she could sometimes act. Free of the prying eyes of the court, his sister was an utter brat.

But then, he could say the same for himself, couldn't he? As Frostbite's children, they had both been raised to wield several masks. Outside their home, they were the dignified destined rulers, unblinking and stoic—Daniel and Danielle. Throughout the Infinite Realms, Danny had been Phantom, ruthless and heroic.

But here, warmed by the roaring fire in their father's study, they could be Danny and Elle, the laughing and mischievous ghost twins.

xXx

Frostbite's smile was as warm as it was wide as he continued to watch his children quip playfully with each other. He couldn't help but snort when Elle, fed up with her brother's teasing, leapt from her chair and punched Danny hard in the gut. The twins began to grapple with each other, spitting insults and other various threats until they both succumbed to a collective fit of pealing laughter.

It did wonders for his soul to have their small family reunited after several years of separation and infrequent visits from his son. He had truly missed these moments.

Looking away from them to stare once more at the fire, his cheerful expression began to drift into thoughtfulness once again. He mulled over the upcoming gathering he would have to hold for his Kingdom and the surrounding tribes and all the tension and excitement it would cause its denizens. Danny's return, coupled with the arrival of the human girl, Sam, was bound to be interesting. Perhaps even revolutionary.

He also knew that a crucial call to the Time Guardian needed to be made, as he realized he still needed to have his suspicions confirmed. Now that the human girl was conscious, he supposed that Clockwork would very much like to meet her. Knowing him, he was probably aware of her already, and it was only a matter of time before the Time Guardian graced them all with his presence.

Frostbite grinned.

Yes, tomorrow, the fun would start.

A/N: Yeesh. This one took forever to write. Sorry about that. I'm still not a big fan of it, but I'm sick of staring at it and obsessing over it, so here ya go.

I think I would like to write a real novel someday. And I mean someday, I mean waaaaay in the future because I still have A LOT of practice needed before I get to that point. So my writing has the tendency to be a little experimental and I'm really going to start working to improve the craft. We'll see though. I really enjoy it as a creative outlet and hobby haha. I know I struggle with being a little too wordy sometimes and maybe not being clear, but I'm working on that. Hopefully it's noticeable!

I also did something really crazy and finally sat down and made a rough outline. I've had the general direction of where I want things to go in my head for years, but having it plotted out in text is super inspiring. I also think it will end up around 45 chapters.

Thanks so much to everyone who has favorited and reviewed! I wasn't getting email alerts for a while there so I didn't get to respond right away but promise I will going forward. You guys rock! Also, if anyone wants to chat more outside of FFN, I did just recently make TUMBLR account, same username as here. Come hang out if ya want!

Stay spooky!