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Chapter Text

It was a lovely spring day in Amity Park. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the children were playing clumsy games of hopscotch and jump rope whilst they licked at popsicles held in sticky fingers. Bees buzzed in search of newly-bloomed flowers, and trilling hummingbirds followed suit. Puffed clouds skidded across the cerulean blue sky. Altogether it was the textbook definition of a “Nice Day”, one of the nicest days, perhaps, in Amity Park history.

And Jack and Maddie Fenton were holed up in their shadowed, chilled basement hard at work on their newest ghost-related device.

“Eureka! It’s alive!” Jack boomed, throwing his hands in the air.

“What’s alive, dear?” Maddie asked mildly.

“My phone!” Jack chirped. “I thought it was out of battery!”

“Oh, good.” Maddie stuck out her tongue as she twisted the final screw. “Text the kids and let them know lasagnas in the fridge and we’ll be done in a little bit, Danny’s probably home from school by now.”

“On it!” Jack typed the message out with painstaking patience, he knew from experience that his rather large fingers clicked too many keys if he tried to speed up the process. He waited a moment, and a message from Jazz popped up. “Jazz put it in the oven, Mads.”

“Perfect. Now come over here, I think it's done.”

“The lasagna?”

“No, Jack, the device.”

“Right!”

The pair crowded around the ray gun-shaped, grey and green device. Maddie flipped her goggles up, pulled off her hood, and pressed the power button. They stared at it in anticipation as it powered up with a whir. 

“Welcome to…Ghost Scan-O-Tron,” it droned. “Searching for ghosts in the vicinity…no ghost signatures found. Please locate a ghost to complete the Scan-O-Matic process.”

“Seems to be in working order,” Maddie said, pleased. “Hopefully this will help us  understand the nature of ghosts’ physiology better.”

“Indeed! You’re right, this is just what our research needs: some ectobiology info!” Jack replied. “Who knows what mysteries could reside inside the ghosts…”

A demanding ‘ping’ interrupted them, and Jack’s phone—which was now at a sketchy 3% battery—lit up. A notification popped up on the screen, a news banner for a thread that both Maddie and Jack subscribed to in the local news that featured sightings of the ghost known as Phantom.

Jack turned to Maddie with a grin. “Waddaya say we take the Scan-O-Tron for a spin?”

“Turn left on Specter Street in 100 feet,” the Fenton GPS instructed, in a tone that Maddie could describe as long suffering. “Then continue for 1 mile, preferably without bowling over any pedestrians.”

With a haul at the wheel, Jack sent the GAV lurching around yet another corner, almost, but not quite, taking out an innocent fire hydrant. In the early days of their courtship, Maddie had been greatly distressed by Jack’s haphazard driving style, thinking it arose from the arrogance typical of young graduate students with any amount of government funding whatsoever. Now, though, she recognized it for what it was: genuine driving ability. Sure, it might appear as though Jack was a threat to the public and the sanctity of traffic laws, but in truth he had never been involved in an accident in all the years she’d known him. 

Although, she pondered as Jack whizzed through a construction zone at a cool 60 miles an hour, it could also be plain stupidity.

The GAV skidded to an abrupt stop at a red light—even Jack wasn’t foolhardy enough to blaze past that. In the brief moment of peace, Maddie’s thoughts drifted, as they often did, to her children. Just a few days ago Jazz had arrived back home for the summer, having just completed her first year in a Psychology undergraduate program at Yale. She glowed as she announced her straight A streak and the many things she had learned in her classes, which Maddie was sure would come up in family conversations even more than before. Maddie wryly acknowledged that Jazz was without a doubt more emotionally intelligent than the rest of her family combined. Even Danny, who was smart in his own way, struggled with sharing his emotions and personal issues just as much as Maddie had when she was his age.

Danny…he was growing up so fast. Already 17, although he’d seemed so much older for a long while. He carried a kind of quiet wisdom, one she wasn’t quite sure where he’d gotten from—she doubted from her, and she was certain not from Jack. In his first two years of high school, Danny’s grades had slipped, and although she tried hard to only be supportive and gently admonishing, she fretted that he may drop out entirely. Worse, that something was truly, irrevocably wrong with him. She noticed the bruises, the late night returns, the heavy sighs he released when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. 

But then his grades gradually recovered and the gleeful spark returned in his eyes, and she realized she never should have doubted her boy. He had always had an inner strength that amazed her, a determination to never give up. He broke down, yes. Recalculated, yes. Seeked help, yes. But never lost himself and never lost hope. However, in moments of pause like this one, she couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the pain she so clearly saw in those days. On numerous occasions both during them and after, she had tried to ask him, to offer her support, but without fail he made up some excuse to leave or promised everything was fine, guilt and conflict clear on his face. It hurt that he pushed her away, but it hurt more knowing he himself was hurting and she couldn’t help him. 

The light turned green and Jack floored it and sped across the intersection, yanking Maddie from her thoughts. 

“Your destination is directly ahead,” the GPS spouted.

“Look, Maddie! Phantom!” Jack pointed with enthusiasm in the air above them.

Looking up, Maddie saw that Phantom was, indeed, engaged in a battle with a massive, floundering giant squid ghost, tentacles barbed with hooks and sizable beak gnashing angrily. Raising a glowing green fist, Phantom punched the ghost between the eyes and sent it spinning up and into a puff of clouds. The squid let out a piercing, guttural howl and Maddie winced. 

“I’ll get in a bit closer and then we can grab the Scan-O-Tron!” Jack announced, and Maddie nodded.

Retaliating for the strike, the squid lunged at Phantom with a heavy tentacle, but Phantom dodged, and then rushed to intercept it before it crashed into a nearby skyscraper. 

Despite the rather antagonistic relationship that had formed early on between Phantom and the Fentons, Maddie had slowly grown to admire the ghost. He clearly cared about people, and went to great lengths to protect them even at the risk of his own life. Or…afterlife. Maddie had changed her opinion of him by a significant margin over the years, and that was even before the truce. 

A number of months ago, Phantom made the announcement to the city that he had figured out a way to quell the symptoms of ghostly obsession using a kind of harmonizing device (not only confirming that ghosts had obsessions, but also that they were rooted in known science, which excited both Fenton parents immensely). When he called for Technus and Skulker—two ghosts famous for being some of Phantom’s primary enemies—and they not only appeared, but also behaved in a calm and warm manner, stating that they and the rest of the local sentient ghosts would no longer bother Amity Park, Maddie could honestly say she had never been more shocked. Ghosts! Sentient! And living harmoniously with humans! An absurd notion, she would have said in years prior. But thanks to Mayor Foley’s announcement that she, in association with Phantom, had drafted the Ghost Protection Act, awarding humanoid ghosts the same rights as humans, it became the truth.

Nowadays, Maddie respected and appreciated Phantom both as the hero he had grown to be and the scientist he evidently was. It was an odd turnaround for both her and Jack, liking a ghost. But surprisingly, she couldn’t say she found it difficult. 

Phantom had always seemed so human after all.

“Maddie!” Jack bellowed, and Maddie startled. Since when did she get so lost in her own musings? She hadn’t realized how contemplative she’d gotten, all caught up in her mind. Almost as if some dearly needed exposition was being stuffed into her internal dialogue rather than developed into actual scenes, she chuckled to herself.

“Whatcha laughing about?” Jack prompted as he jumped to the back of the GAV and grabbed the Scan-O-Tron.

“Oh, nothing.” Maddie tugged on her hood and goggles. “Now let’s wrangle ourselves some scientific data!”

Despite his enthusiasm about their new gadget, Jack had luckily made the wise decision to park off to the side and out of the way of the two ghosts duking it out. Maddie leapt from the GAV and Jack followed, the pair ducking behind the safety of a large brick building. Jack handed Maddie the Scan-O-Tron, and she pointed it at the squid ghost.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Born ready,” Jack replied.

Maddie pressed the button and the device activated once again.

“Welcome back to…Ghost Scan-O-Tron. Searching for ghosts in the vicinity…Ghost detected! Scanning...”

The Fentons shared an excited look as the device buzzed away.

“Scanning…Data acquired: Level 4 Power Level.”

Jack and Maddie nodded to themselves. That made sense, typically the larger animal ghosts were between 3 and 5 on the power scale, with 1 being the lowest and 10 the highest. So far they had not encountered a ghost that could be considered a 10, although they hadn’t developed the scale and criteria until recently so they had a significant gap in their data set.

“Scanning…Data acquired: Giant Squid Type Spectral Presence.”

Also correct. 100%  accuracy so far, which was better than the majority of their creations. Jack was beaming.

“Scanning…Scan completed. Data acquired: Neutral core, no detectable ecto abilities,  no detectable ghostly obsession. Please establish uplink to core computer to access full data file.”

“It works!” Jack cheered, pumping a fist. 

“Obviously we should check the rest of the data when we get back,” Maddie said, “but I agree, the Scan-O-Tron appears to be very effective!”

“Scanning…Second ghost detected! Scanning…” The Scan-O-Tron announced.

“Oops,” Maddie muttered, “it seems to be scanning Phantom now…”

“Scanning…Data acquired: Level 8 Power Level.”

Jack frowned. “Feels kinda rude to scan a sentient ghost.”

“I agree. I’ll shut it off—” 

“Scanning…Data acquired: Human cells detected!”

Maddie’s finger froze above the power button. Her eyes flitted to meet Jack’s, and his face was just as pale as she was sure hers was.

“Human…?” she breathed.

“Scanning…Data acquired: Ice core, 9+ detectable ecto abilities, no detectable ghostly obsession. Alert! Plot-relevant additional data acquired: human heart and cardiovascular system detected, human bone structure detected, integrated human DNA detected.”

Jack and Maddie stayed stock still, neither wanting to break the laden silence between them. Questions whirled in Maddie’s brain so fast she thought she might crumple. In the sky over their heads, Phantom fired an ecto blast at the squid. The two Fentons stared at him for a moment before turning back to each other. 

“...Could he have…come into contact with human biological material?” Jack proposed, voice uncharacteristically faint. “Gotten…I don’t know…the ghost equivalent of ectoplasmic contamination…? He is around humans an awful lot…”

“...No,” Maddie said, shaking her head. “No. If it was just contamination there would be only trace DNA, not physical human structures, and certainly not integrated DNA.”

“Maybe…mimicry?” Jack tried, then waved a hand. “That wouldn’t create DNA…”

“Exactly,” Maddie affirmed, rapid calculations firing in her mind. “With our current information the only viable explanation for integrated human DNA and established human physiology is that he actually has them.”   

“But ghosts aren’t humans,” Jack said. “...They’re different on a biological level.”

With a snarky quip that the Fentons were too far away to hear, Phantom swooped under the squid and sucked the flailing behemoth into his Thermos. Absently, Maddie wondered for the millionth time how he’d acquired it.

“And Phantom has both human and ghost attributes,” Maddie said, returning to the topic at hand. 

“But that means…” Jack trailed off as his eyes widened.

They once again looked upwards at Phantom as he waved to the cheering bystanders and darted away, spectral tail flaring behind him.

“Phantom is a human-ghost hybrid,” Maddie finished weakly.

Chapter Text

“Have Mom and Dad been acting extra weird recently or is it just me?” Danny asked, rifling through a cupboard for a box of cereal.

“Yeah, actually,” Jazz replied. She sipped her coffee.

“Think something’s up?” Danny settled in the seat across from her.

“Maybe,” Jazz said. “I mean, Mom and Dad are always weird, it could just be some new ghost thing they’re working on. You know how they get when they’re invested in an idea.”

“I guess.” Danny scooped cereal into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “But it seems more focused than usual, y’know? Like they’ve figured out some big thing and they’re keeping it under wraps.”

“I think you’ve been watching too much X-Files,” Jazz quipped with a grin. 

Danny made a show of rolling his eyes.

“But seriously,” Jazz continued, “I wouldn’t worry about it. Chances are it's nothing important. Now hurry up and eat your cereal or you’ll be late for school!”

With a shrug, Danny ceded the point and turned on the TV.

“—Lance Thunder,” Lance Thunder said.

“And I’m Tiffany Snow!” Tiffany Snow declared.

“And you’re watching a very special episode of Action News: bringing you all the hottest Amity Park news,” Lance said, TV grin wide as always. 

“Ugh, do we really need to watch this?” Jazz complained.

"Lancer says it's important to stay up to date on local events,” Danny said. 

“Sure, but must it be through Lance and Tiffany?” Jazz sighed. “I can only handle so much posturing before I take psychic damage.”

“Damn, Jazz,” Danny chuckled.

“Today,” swerved the overly-cheerful voice of Tiffany, “we’re speaking to two local G-list celebrities, ghost experts and ectoscientists Jack and Madeline Fenton!” The shot panned out to show their parents seated across from the hosts, clad as ever in full HAZMAT suits and waving to the camera.

Danny spat out his cereal at the same time Jazz choked on her coffee. 

“What are Mom and Dad doing on live TV!?” Danny stammered, scrubbing the milk off his face and shirt.

“How should I know!?” Jazz cried. 

“Clearly you were wrong about nothing being up—” Danny jabbed a finger at the screen “—cause I would 100% count that as something being up!”

“You were just going to stress yourself out—”

“Jazz, shhh! ” Danny smacked her arm and gestured to the TV, where their parents were greeting the hosts.

"You shhh!” Jazz retaliated, but she quickly quieted and both of them sat glued to the TV.

"It’s great to be here,” Maddie was saying. “Especially with such big news.”

“Let's get down to business.” Lance clapped his hands together. “Just yesterday Action News received a long, somewhat rambling, fringing on incoherent email from Jack Fenton. We were able to determine that he and his lovely wife Madeline wished to come on the show on Monday—which as you all know is now today—and share a piece of, and I quote, ‘Earth-rending, unbelievable, biologically and socially monumental news.’ Naturally, knowing the Fentons’ reputation for incredible news-worthiness, we accepted. So, Doctors Fenton, care to share?”

Maddie and Jack exchanged a meaningful glance, and leaned forward as if to divulge a scandalous secret. 

“Well,” Maddie said, “it started a couple days ago when we finished working on our newest ghost device: the Ghost Scan-O-Tron. My husband’s name.”

“It's designed to find and analyze animated ectoplasm,” Jack elaborated, “in other words: ghosts! We saw that Phantom was fighting an animal ghost so we got over there faster than greased lightning.”

“Once there,” said Maddie, “we activated the device and scanned the giant squid ghost Phantom was in conflict with. The Ghost Scan-O-Tron proved highly accurate.”

“We were going to leave,” Jack said, and here his expression turned a touch guilty, “but then the Scan-O-Tron accidentally got a lock on Phantom.”

“We realize the moral implications of collecting such personal information on sentient ghosts,” Maddie said in a well-rehearsed tone, “and I fully intended to shut off the device before it completed its scan. However…”

“That’s when the Scan-O-Tron said that Phantom has human DNA and human physiological characteristics,” Jack announced, clearly trying to reign in his scientific excitement.

“For the viewers at home: what exactly does that mean, Doctors Fenton?” Lance asked.

“It means, ” Maddie said, “ that Phantom is half-human.”

A beat of silence in the studio as Lance and Tiffany digested this information.

“...That is just…astonishing! Isn’t it astonishing, Lance?” Tiffany chirped.

“It sure is, Tiffany. Twist of the century!” Lance replied. “And so, so incredibly newsworthy…I’m gonna get promoted!”

“The science of it explains so much! ” Jack cried, restraint breaking. “We always wondered why Phantom seems to grow and develop despite the fact that ghosts’ base forms stay consistent across time, but it's because his ghost form is changing as his human form ages! The injuries too—we’ve recorded incidents where Phantom got scratched and bled ectoplasm, like humans do blood, and it stumped me and Mads cause we know ghosts experience damage different than humans.  And his resistance to ghost-repellent tech! He’s able to pass through our Fenton Ghost Shields because he can just turn into a human and walk right through them!”

“Mr. Fenton, we appreciate the enthusiasm, but could you be a dear and use your inside voice? ” Tiffany pleaded, covering her ears with her hands.

“Good God, man,” Lance said in agreement.

Ignoring the pair, Maddie picked up where she left off. “We checked our field data on our homebase computer, and found the Scan-O-Tron to have an overall accuracy of 98%, with 99.95% likelihood that the data on Phantom’s human attributes are correct. We also managed to obtain more detailed data regarding this. ” She turned to address the camera directly. “ According to our calculations, Phantom experienced some sort of electrically traumatic event that resulted in bodily death, and somehow his physiology combined with ectoplasm and not only prevented him from permanent biological failure, but also allows him to shift between ghost and human—he effectively died, and yet he still has a living body. He exists in a state of limbo between life and death. A Schrodinger’s Boy, if you will.”

“Fascinating stuff, I’m sure,” Lance said flippantly, then clasped his hands, “but here’s the kicker: who is Phantom?”

“Dunno!” Jack declared. “The APPD ran the genetic info we collected, but whoever it belongs to isn’t in their system. Without DNA matched to his human form, Phantom is—if you’ll excuse the pun—a ghost in the database. As we all know from true crime documentaries, DNA evidence is useless unless it's linked to someone.”

“However,” Maddie said, “although we don’t have any concrete evidence as to Phantom’s identity, we do have a basic description for Phantom’s human form. Video footage analysis of Phantom shows that he is a 5’5” Caucasian male, approximately 150 lbs. Our own data indicates that he is between 15 to 19 years of age. Obviously we are working very hard to determine Phantom’s human identity. He’s been doing this on his own for years, and it is possible he doesn’t have family at all to support him—a child who was exposed to the type of harm required to create a being like Phantom may very well be abused or neglected, or a ward of the state. Our goal right now is to support him in having as normal a life as possible. So it is my hope that all of you will help Phantom as he has helped Amity Park, and show him the same compassion as he has shown every one of us.”

“And there you have it, folks,” Lance concluded. “Our very own Phantom, just a kid after all. What will this mean for Amity Park and for Phantom himself? For that, you’ll have to tune into Action News—we’ll be providing regular updates on this situation as it evolves.”

“In the meantime,” Tiffany said, “Amity Park residents are encouraged to pass along any information regarding Phantom’s identity to the Fentons, who you can reach at (666) 666-0666, or the Amity Park Police Department.”

“But please,” Maddie interjected with urgency, “do not attempt to contact the Guys In White, otherwise known as the GIW. Although they have largely gone off grid in recent years, they still pose a threat to allied ghosts, especially abnormal ones like Phantom.” Her and Jack shared a worried look. “We don’t want to find out what they would do to Phantom if they got their hands on him. ”

“A sobering thought indeed,” Tiffany said with a sculpted frown. “Thank you once again Madeline and Jack for joining us today, and sharing what may very well be the biggest news in recent Amity Park history.”

“Anytime!” Jack grinned. 

“We’ll see you after this short commercial break,” Tiffany said.

The bright bop and eye-straining colours of a plastic robot toy ad overtook the TV screen, pulling the Fenton siblings out of their stunned states. Danny sat with his mouth hanging open like a guppy, and Jazz was clutching at her arms hard enough to cut off the circulation. She relinquished her grip to shut off the TV before the music reached a jarring crescendo. Fear drummed in Danny’s heart and he could feel his core pulse alongside it. Catastrophic scenarios of his identity as Phantom unveiled pounded like angry fists, even as his parents' caring words echoed in his ears. He didn’t know quite what to say, and it seemed Jazz didn’t either. So, Danny swallowed hard, and said the first thing that popped into his brain.

“Fuck.”

“Danny! Language!”

“Really Jazz?” Danny spluttered. “Mom and Dad just exposed my secret to the entire town! I think I’m entitled to at least one ‘fuck’. And I’m 17, not 10!”

Jazz blew out a heavy breath that was half-chuckle and half-sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I also happen to be freaking the fuck out!”

A startled laugh escaped Danny, despite the circumstances. “Jazz!”

“And maybe admonishing you is my emotional coping mechanism,” Jazz said, crossing her arms. “...But seriously Danny,” she continued, “we’ve got to figure out some sort of game plan here.”

Danny’s smile dropped. “Yeah, I know…” He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t think there’s any chance this all blows over, do you?”

“Unfortunately, that seems unlikely,” Jazz replied, sighing. “For better or worse, Phantom has become something of a local celebrity—due in part to your showboating I might add, don’t try to defend yourself, you know it's true. And this kind of big news? It’s going to be everywhere. Even if you somehow get through this without outing yourself, it's going to take months and months for the media to let it go.”

“Maybe the whole city happened to miss the news today?” Danny tried.

Jazz typed something into her phone and then held it up, scrolling down the Amity Park social media page which displayed a wall of Phantom-related videos largely centered around who his human identity could be. Danny groaned. How were they so goddamn fast? The broadcast went out five minutes ago! 

“Couldn’t this have waited till summer break?” he lamented. “School is going to suck ass.”

“Pessimism is not productive, Danny," Jazz said.

“Says who?” Danny joked half-heartedly. “Anyways, I’m right. Casper is obsessed with Phantom, even my class, and since Mom and Dad so helpfully announced that Phantom is high school age, the whole school is going to be trying to find me out. It'll be insufferable. I mean, it's weird enough hearing Mom and Dad say nice things about me on live television. But Dash and Kwan and those guys are total nerds for Phantom, and watching them freak out about this is gonna be a gazillion times worse. I try to keep clear of them on my patrols, cause if they see me they follow me around town. And now they’re looking for human Phantom, too.”

“I thought your bullies didn’t bother you anymore?” Jazz asked, and the question was such the epitome of a normal teenage conversation that Danny almost forgot his whole life had just been rudely flipped on its head.

“They don’t really,” Danny answered. “Dash’s dad really messed him up, and after he left Dash went from 100 to 0 real quick. I guess that thing Mom always says about never knowing what another person is going through is true. He even apologized to me, although, granted, it was kind of a horrible apology cause he kept blaming me for being ‘super bully-able’. But he stopped bugging me after, and so did the rest of them once Dash let up. We’re sort-of friends now.” He shrugged. “Kwan’s actually really nice when he’s not trying so hard to fit in.”

“I told you they weren’t so bad,” Jazz said. “Often people who put others down are going through some sort of personal struggle, or simply haven’t developed the emotional awareness to recognize the harm they’re doing. Adolescents are especially prone to this, given the neurological development and social pressures they experience.”

“Jazz. Psychology Hat,” Danny said.

“Oops,” Jazz said, and mimed taking it off.

They chuckled, and then the quiet returned as the reality of their situation set back in.

“...Do you still want to go to school today?” Jazz asked finally. “You can stay home if you’re worried. It’d give us more time to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“Believe me, I want to,” Danny said. “But I can’t. If I start acting weird and ditching school entirely people are going to notice, and the last thing I need is to draw attention to myself. I’ll just…try to go on like everything’s normal. I’ve got lots of practice at that. I’ll be okay, I promise. Sam and Tucker will be there.”

A quick succession of ‘pings’ sounded from Danny’s phone, and he pulled it out of his pocket. All six of them were rapid-fire texts from the group chat with Sam and Tucker.

“Speak of the devil,” he said. “...They might actually be more concerned for me than you, Jazz.” He held up the phone for her to see a message from Tucker reading: ‘WTFFFF DANNY ARE YOU OKAY?? LMK IF YOU WANT ME TO TAKE OUT THE ACTION NEWS ANTENNA I’VE BEEN PRACTICING WITH MY DRONE FOR THIS KIND OF SCENARIO!!’

Jazz snorted. “I feel so much better knowing Tucker will be taking care of you.”

“Really Jazz,” Danny said, and he reached forward to clasp her hand in his. “I’m okay. Scared and a bit pissed, but okay. Sure, people know Phantom is half-human now. But they don’t know he’s me…I am glad you’re home for this though.”

Jazz squeezed his hand and smiled shakily. “Me too. And I’m on your side here, yeah? Whatever you choose to do I’ll back you up all the way, little brother.”

“Thanks, Jazz.” Danny glanced at the clock, and grimaced. “Oh, jeez, I gotta run. Probably best not to show up late, either.” He jumped to his feet and dumped his cereal bowl in the sink.

“Wait!” Jazz called, and Danny froze. “One more thing.”

She held out her arms, and with only mildly sarcastic muttering Danny accepted her hug. Jazz was warm as always—she ran hot like their dad—and her shirt smelled like lilac laundry soap. It was normal and safe, and though he would never in a million years admit it, it helped a lot.  

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight,” Danny said, pulling away. “You softie.”

Jazz ruffled his hair, and Danny squawked. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Yes, Mom,” Danny snarked, grabbing his backpack and trotting out the door.

Chapter Text

Normally, Danny met up with Sam and Tucker near their lockers, which were situated in a convenient corner of the school a few lockers apart each. The quiet location made it easy to sneak over and grab the Thermos at opportune moments without running into other students or teachers and the questions they came with, which led to fewer detentions than past years. 

Today, however, Danny sent off a text to their group chat as he hovered to the side of the front doors to the school, and waited for his friends to arrive. Over the years he had gotten skilled at pushing down his fear and anxiety in favour of dealing with the many immediate problems he faced, especially when human lives were at stake. He taught himself breathing and grounding exercises (which Tucker insisted were hokey but nevertheless seemed to help), talked to his friends and Jazz when possible, and allocated time for decompressing as often as he could. He compartmentalized in the moment, and unpacked when it was safe to do so—though this sometimes led to messy emotional outbursts. But he was able to handle stress, and handle it well.

Yet despite all of this, right now Danny was weak with nerves. His palms were slick with sweat, his legs shook, his stomach roiled like an overboiling pot. He kept biting his lip—a habit he thought he had outgrown—and the copper tang of blood sprouted on his tongue. As people streamed inside he scanned the crowd for Sam and Tucker, growing increasingly fidgety the longer their familiar faces failed to appear. 

Casper was abuzz with the news of Phantom’s humanity. He could hear the thrum of spirited conversation inside, watched as the students who bustled past him exchanged hushed theories as to who he may be. Flashes of his ghost form flared from phones and there were even a few people hauling binders or notebooks full of pasted photos of him and walls of scribbled text. Clearly the student body had collectively decided to make it their mission to find him.

With each cry of “Phantom”, Danny flinched. 

When he and Jazz agreed that he should go to school, despite this part of his secret being revealed to Amity Park, he truly, honestly, genuinely hadn’t been concerned. He had felt confident that he could make it through the day, hell, even the rest of the school year, without a problem. Years of disguising Phantom assured him he could keep his identity hidden in spite of this hiccup. What was one exposed fact against long hours of experience in keeping secrets? Obviously Danny could handle this. He’d faced Pariah Dark and made it out, if not alive, as semi-alive as before. A few awkward months of media attention paled in comparison to that. 

What Danny failed to consider was the fact that he was absolute trash at judging his own potential reactions to things. That is to say, his intellect saying that everything would work out fine if he could just hold it together and not fuck himself over was doing fuck all to curb the debilitating dread building in the pit of his stomach, and because Danny was nothing if not predictable, he for some goddamn reason had pranced out of the house with more arrogance than Dash after a victorious football game thinking there was no possible way the many, many eyes trained on Phantom could affect him at fucking all. 

Danny could imagine Jazz chastizing him for this negative train of thought, but she could fuck off too, cause he was only half-sure he was going to make it through the day without either collapsing in a blubbering mess and embarrassing himself enough to drive him into permanent hermitude, or straight up outing himself as Phantom. Both options were unappealing.

At least he could thank Clockwork or whichever meddling ghost divinity who was currently monitoring the situation that he had yet to run into any of the A-Listers. On a good day Danny liked to think he was tactful with their whole Phantom infatuation, but considering his current state right now it would be a toss up between fear-punching one of them or fainting. Again, hardly solid options.

“Yo, Earth to Danny!”

A shot of adrenaline spiked through Danny’s limbs and he jumped, his darting eyes landing on Tucker, who had somehow walked right up next to him and he hadn’t so much as clocked the movement, and wasn’t that fucked up, cause ever since the accident no-one got within six feet of Danny without him noticing, and maybe that was a bad sign that he was even more out of it than he thought.

“Tucker!” Sam hissed. “Quit it! The last thing Danny needs is you scaring the shit out of him.” She turned to meet Danny’s eyes. “You okay? You look…”

“Like death warmed over,” Tucker finished.

“Tucker!” Sam cried. 

“I’m sorry, jokes are how I deal with stress!” Tucker defended.

“It's fine,” Danny said, finding his voice. “He’s not wrong. Though Tuck, that one seemed a bit easy.”

“Low hanging fruit is no less delicious, Danny,” Tucker said with a flourish.

“Anyways—” Sam interjected. “Danny. I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m spiraling but I don’t want anyone to know so I’m going to slap on a vaguely relaxed expression that actually just makes me look like a depressed Gollum’ face. Jazz let you come to school like this? ”

“Jazz doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything!” Danny sputtered. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thank you very much.”

Tucker and Sam eyed him. 

Danny sighed. “...I felt okay at the house.”

“Ah,” Tucker said. “Are you sure this is the best plan now? What with…” He waved broadly at Danny.

“You just gestured to all of me,” Danny said.

“Well,” Tucker said to Sam, “he can’t be too bad if he’s making dumb meme references.”

“Says Mr. Stonks,” Danny shot back. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be upset right now?” Tucker said.

“He is, idiot.” Sam grasped Danny by the shoulders. “Danny, let's, uh, take some deep breaths, okay?”

“Yeah, breathing Danny, remember that?” Tucker commented.

That got a chuckle out of Danny, so Sam swallowed her waiting retort and just stood holding Danny steady as he shut his eyes and breathed. He sucked air in and out like a swimmer preparing to dive to the bottom of a pool—too deep, too drawn, and too artificial. The breathing helped a bit, but if Danny was being honest with himself, it was mostly the warm presence of his friends that brought him back to something resembling a normal level of arousal. Arousal: that was a psychology word Jazz was using with everyone and their mother nowadays. She’d be thrilled if she knew he was using it too. 

Gradually his heart rate slowed and his stomach settled, and although there was still a dark swirl of anxiety rumbling in the back of his brain, it no longer felt like it was about to overtake him.

Emotional crisis averted, Danny opened his eyes and was met with Sam drilling a stare into his skull as if she could crack it open, dig through the contents, and figure out what he was thinking. “I’m not that upset, Sam,” Danny said, poking her arm.

“Hm,” Sam hummed, not sounding convinced.

“I agree, Sam,” Tucker said, easing closer to Danny. “But not to worry, I know exactly what Danny needs…Foley Attack!” He lurched forward and threw his arms around Danny, and before Danny could react he was submerged in Tucker’s tall and determined embrace. 

“Awgh, Tuck!” Danny shrieked, his protests muffled in Tucker’s jacket. 

“Shut up and be comforted!” Tucker demanded.

“Dude!” Danny tried to sound irate, but his firm tone dissolved into laughter. “I already got a hug from Jazz, I don’t need this!”

“Yes you do,” Tucker said, releasing Danny and giving him a couple hard slaps on the back. “You totally do.”

Danny punched Tucker in the arm, grinning when his victim yelped childishly. “You cheater, you’re way taller than me now! Hardly a fair fight, man.”

“But look.” Tucker pointed to Danny’s face and the grin spread across it. “It worked didn’t it?”

“Somehow it did,” Sam said dryly. “Let’s hope it's enough to get you through what promises to be the suckiest day ever.”

“Optimistic as ever,” Tucker said. “Don’t worry Danny, I believe in you.”

“I’m not saying I don’t,” Sam said, “it's nothing we can’t handle. But, guys, we’ve got to tighten it up. People aren’t going to just brush off weird slip-ups anymore. Danny, are you gonna be able to get through the day without doing anything really, really, astronomically stupid?”

“...Probably?” Danny answered. 

“That’ll do.” Sam grabbed Danny by the arm and yanked him up the steps.

The moment the trio pushed through Casper’s double doors, they were enveloped in chaos. Outside it was bad enough, but at least the jostling groups were minimized to the number that could fit through the doors. No such luck inside. The central hallway was brimming with chattering students, all stuffed together like sardines—no-one wanted to miss out on relevant Phantom gossip. 

To a certain extent Danny sympathized. From an outside perspective this was exciting news, the kind of thing that inspired late night corkboard sessions much like those Danny held with Tucker and Sam over TV show twists. As he scanned the mob of students, Danny saw nothing more than curiosity and eagerness in their faces. They weren’t being malicious or hateful. No-one wanted to hunt him down. They were simply interested in this novel side of Phantom. And why wouldn’t they be? Jazz was right, Danny had created a figure out of Phantom, and it was finally biting him in the ass. 

To Amity Park this was a grand revelation, a break in the monotony of everyday life. But to Danny it was, to put it simply, a lot. He had perfected the art of keeping his two halves, his two worlds, separate and distinct from each other, and now they were being forced together like polarized magnets and Danny couldn’t do a thing to stop it. It was true that Danny grappled with the implications of hiding Phantom daily, but at least that was known. At least he got where he stood with that. He had his routine and his habits, and yes, maybe they weren’t the best for him or his loved ones, but they weren’t new. His well-meaning parents had inadvertently thrown their son’s life into turmoil, and Danny could admit to himself (if no-one else) that regardless of the outcome, nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

“Guys, didja hear the news?” Kwan cried, trotting up to the trio.

Danny winced. Tucker gripped Danny’s arm as inconspicuously as possible, and Danny shot his friend a grateful glance. Sam aimed a pointed look at Kwan as they stood amidst the barrage of Phantom-related prattling.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Dash said, as he and the rest of their group approached.

Danny bit back a long-suffering sigh. As predicted, they were nothing short of fired up by his parents announcement. Dash was cradling a stack of ghost and human anatomy-related library books, and Star was scrolling through the multitude of Phantom message boards on the Amity Park site. Paulina had resisted wearing her Phantom T-shirt (unlicensed in case that wasn’t obvious), and settled on only a somewhat tasteful hair clip featuring his stylized ‘D’ symbol. And Kwan was literally bouncing. 

Danny almost missed the days when they were basic bullies. At least then he wouldn’t have to listen to them rant about his ghost alter-ego. Then again, if personal growth hadn’t kicked the lot of them hard in the knees, Danny would probably still be spending a significant portion of his school days stuffed in a locker. 

“They’re a tiny bit excited,” Valerie muttered at his side.

Danny noted her purposeful nonchalant demeanor. He had figured she would try to stick to her standard unimpressed attitude regarding Phantom, even though he knew beyond any doubt that the broadcast shook her, perhaps even more than it had shaken him. 

“Little bit,” Tucker agreed.

“So, do you three have any ideas about who Phantom could be?” Star asked with overwhelming eagerness. “Me and Kwan are making a list!” She shoved her pink-cased phone in their faces, which showed a detailed account of every student they apparently suspected of being Phantom. Danny swallowed a scoff at the addition of “Gregor”, but couldn’t help feeling smug when Star swiped down to Wes. Looked like the not-so-subtle insistence that Danny was Phantom had managed to draw suspicion on the scrutinizer too. 

“I have an idea,” Wes interrupted, sliding into their loose cluster. “Better yet, I have a fact.”

Danny rolled his eyes. He really had to stop thinking about the red-headed dork, it seemed mere thought summoned him. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Paulina waved Wes away. “Danny’s Phantom, we get it. It's the same shit you’ve been pushing since sophomore year. Conspiracy theories aren’t welcome with our actual theories.”

Wes scoffed. “Clearly you don’t get it, or you’d all be fawning over Fenton right now. Or—" he spun on Danny “—should I say Phantom.”

“You shouldn’t.” Danny crossed his arms.

He didn’t mind their verbal warfare most of the time. Credit where credit was due: Wes was a smart guy, and Danny had to respect that (although it was annoying when that intelligence was directed at outing him as Phantom). Besides, their rivalry had grown more friendly as it went on. If Danny ever actually needed Wes he was moderately sure his borderline-stalker would help. But for obvious reasons, Danny was not in the mood at the moment. 

He attempted to send a glare at Wes that would communicate “fuck off, today is not the day and you’re pushing dangerous buttons” without actual words. Disarmed, Wes eyed Danny with something akin to concern, and shut his mouth. Message received. Small mercies, Danny supposed. 

“Shut up, Wes,” Dash said, oblivious to the exchange. “There’s no way Danny’s Phantom. We’d have noticed by now, it's not like he’s sneaky.”

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the A-Listers. Danny managed to resist making a snarky comment along the lines of them being surprised. He didn’t want to do Wes’ job for him, afterall.

“Moving on,” Paulina demanded. “I think it's probably one of the seniors, ‘cause if he’s in our class I’m pretty sure we would know—ghost-human people must look kinda weird, right? Or have some sorta, like, ghost tells. Glowing or something. So nobody close to us. He might even have graduated already.”

“I hope not,” Star chimed in. “I really really really want to meet him!”

“You have met him, Star,” Valerie pointed out. “He beats up ghosts at school every other day.”

“Sure, Ghost Phantom. But I want to meet Human Phantom,” Star said.

Great. The alternate titles were already starting up. Could be worse, though. Could be something really dumb, like Ghost Boy and Boy Boy, or–

“Phantom and Humantom,” Kwan said joyfully.

There it was.

“You do realize they’re the same person, right?” Tucker blurted.

Danny flicked him, and Tucker winced both in pain and apology. The more people got it in their heads that Phantom’s ghost and human halves were the same person , the more likely it was that someone noticed Danny’s and Phantom’s oddly identical face shape, hair style, and body type, and came to the glaringly obvious conclusion. Tucker was not helping his case.

“Somehow,” Valerie grumbled. “Doesn’t make much sense to me. How the hell can you be alive and dead? That’s nonsense! Maybe the Fentons just messed up—wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Hey, that’s my parents you’re talking about,” Danny said. “They may not get it right 100% of the time, but they’re not dumb, Val. I happen to think it's an interesting and plausible theory. Is there any particular reason why a person couldn’t be half-ghost?”

Valerie tsked and Tucker raised an eyebrow at Danny. 

“I mean…I guess it is kinda crazy,” Danny said quickly. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Smooth,” Tucker muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Shut up, Tucker,” Danny hissed back.

The bell rang, loud and obnoxious as ever, cutting the dreadful conversation to an abrupt end. Students began to make their reluctant way to their respective classrooms and the loud rumble of background talk tapered off. The A-Listers disbanded, Dash hefting his teetering pile of books down the hallway like a mobile house of cards. Wes shot Danny one last narrow look before heading off as well.

“Saved by the bell,” Danny commented, letting out a breath.

“Now Danny, don’t be a cliche,” Tucker said. “Also: I can’t believe you assaulted me for making a joke and then proceeded to spill your ghost guts to Valerie.”

“I flicked you!” Danny said. “And c’mon, she was practically saying my mom and dad are idiots. What was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing?” Sam replied. “Unless you want people to put the pieces together and realize that you are, in fact, Phantom?”

“Shhh, Sam, not so loud!” Danny waved a hand at her. 

Sam gestured at the empty hallway. “Everyone left for class, dumbass. Like we should, otherwise we’re going to get detention.”

“Right,” Danny said. “Shit, we forgot to drop our stuff off. If we run we might still have time…?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Tucker said. “I don’t need anything from my locker anyway.”

“Me neither,” Sam agreed. 

“Good.” Danny blew out a breath. “‘Cause we would not have made it.”

They headed in the direction of their first class, trailing behind the A-Listers. With that awkward encounter out of the way, Danny was feeling better. Clearly nobody believed Wes any more than before, which was a relief, and although the whole group was just as annoying as Danny had assumed they would be, the annoyingness was at manageable levels. 

Given the fact that the GIW and/or Amity Park Police had yet to smash through the windows and drag him away, it seemed fair to assume that Phantom’s identity was still safe from Joe Public’s hands, too. Every hour that went by the chances of someone making the connection between Danny and Phantom dropped. Give it a couple days and the general uproar would settle, providing no damning information leaked. So, Danny’s current mission? Survive the next week. After that, he could decide how to move forward. Which was going to suck a lot. But that was a problem for future Danny. Current Danny just had to maintain his normal routine and avoid, at all costs, revealing himself in a stupid, klutzy, embarrassing way.

If he did, neither Danny Fenton nor Danny Phantom would ever live it down.

Chapter Text

The classroom was silent, save for the soft scratch of pencil on paper and the occasional muffled groan. Lancer weaved between desks, keeping a watchful eye on Danny and the other students. Not that anyone would be able to cheat on an English essay test. 

Danny really should have studied for this. Like, at all. Even just five minutes of skimming his notes would have gotten him further than the current blank page in front of him. He had read the book a month ago, when Lancer first assigned it. It was relatively interesting, though Danny felt like he was missing the underlying themes of it as he often did. But he understood the general idea. Or, he had. Now he couldn’t even remember who the main character was. 

In Danny’s defense, darting around like a paranoid chicken for two days trying to avoid a situation that would result in anyone—and thus Amity Park as a whole—realizing that he and Phantom were one and the same, well, it was enough to throw anybody off their game. Unfortunately, this excuse only worked on people who knew about that already, which was nobody helpful nor capable of withholding punishment. 

Danny scribbled an answer beneath the first question. He sighed. Lancer was totally going to pull him aside and ask what was up with him, not even Danny made a habit of giving such blatantly bullshit answers. 

Moving down the page, Danny cringed. Oh, man, he had no clue what the questions were talking about. What was that thing Tucker told him? When you’re not sure about an answer, just write the bit you don’t know super messy so the teacher might interpret it as the correct response? Danny tried this technique on the following single-sentence question. He was quite certain, though, that writing the whole thing illegibly was pushing his luck. 

The hour went by fast. This was upsetting for multiple reasons: for one, Danny hadn’t provided a single knowledgeable response on the whole test, and also, the quiet minutes laid aside in class to write tests or learn material was the only time when he was not assaulted by Phantom discourse. 

Every other place in Amity Park was a constant barrage of it. School, the Nasty Burger, downtown, even Danny’s own house. Although Jazz was doing her best to remain nonchalant about the situation, she was worrying. A lot. Which was in turn worrying Danny, because Jazz always seemed to get an easy grasp on any difficult happenstance thrown her way, and this time she was floundering just as much as he was. 

And his parents hadn’t shut up about the whole thing from the moment they closed the interview that started the whole mess in the first place. There was only so much parental chatter about oneself that one could take before one, say, shattered a plate with an accidental twitchy burst of ecto-energy. Needless to say, this did not help Jazz’s nerves. Although Danny had sworn not to let it happen again as soon as they were alone, he could tell she was scared for him. Which, fair. Danny was scared for himself too. Subterfuge and keeping under the radar were not his greatest strengths. 

But it was Wednesday now, and there had yet to be any catastrophic mistakes. That was something. 

Danny’s classmates filed out of the room and flooded into the hallway, Danny waiting until everyone else had left before reluctantly following. Sam and Tucker stood outside, leaned up against the wall.

“How’d you guys do?” Tucker asked.

“Fine,” Sam replied. “I ran out of space on that last one, Lancer never gives enough room on the long answer questions.”

“I’d bet you a million dollars that I flunked it,” Danny said in resignation. “I knew literally nothing. In fact, I knew negative things.”

“I think we can cite extenuating circumstances on this one,” Sam said quietly. “You’re doing fine, Danny. More than fine. You seem almost normal.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Danny said, offering her a reluctant smile.

“And you’ve always been weird,” Tucker joked. “So you just seem like Danny.”

“True.” Sam pointed at Tucker.

“Wow, guys,” Danny said. “Wow. Aren’t friends supposed to, like, lift each other up in hard times? Be supportive? I don’t think roasting me counts.”

“You love it,” Tucker said, slinging an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “Now c’mon, I’m starving. Snacks at your place?”

Danny glanced around, and finding no-one, phased through Tucker’s arm.

“Hey!” Tucker cried. “Uncool, Danny. I’m trying to cheer you up and this is the thanks I get?”

Danny smirked at him. “Skill issue.”

Sam chortled as Tucker gasped dramatically.

“Dude,” Tucker said. “I can’t believe you. You better be paying me back with some excellent goddamn snacks at your house, or I’m gonna have to rethink this friendship.”

“What’s wrong with your snacks?” Danny probed.

Tucker groaned. “My dad’s been getting way too into health food ever since my mom became mayor. Something about supporting the family in his own way, etcetera etcetera. I appreciate the effort, I guess, but I could do without the kale brownies and pine nuts.”

“I think it's great that your dad is educating himself about healthy eating habits,” Sam said. “I was thinking of inviting him on my next farmers market trip.”

“That does not surprise me,” Danny commented. “All things considered.”

“Well, Sam, I’m withering away, and I need some atrocious sugary junk food or I may go ghost myself,” Tucker said, then grabbed Danny’s shoulder. “Please, Danny.”

Danny rolled his eyes, and typed out a text to Jazz on his phone. “Fine, you’ve convinced me. Jazz’ll meet us in the parking lot.”

“Yesssssss,” Tucker cheered under his breath. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Ironically, we’re out of those,” Danny said.

Their banter had left enough time for the halls to clear, so they headed for the doors. Danny appreciated Sam and Tucker’s patience. If he was forced to wade through the swathes of high schoolers giddy about Phantom on the daily, he might lose it. He had good friends.

“That. Was a horrible joke,” Sam said, as if Danny’s comment had finally loaded in her brain.

“What do I look like, a comedian?” Danny retorted.

“A clown, maybe,” Sam mused. 

Okay, perhaps just alright friends.

“Jeez, Sam.” Danny raised a hand to his heart in faux-hurt. “You wound me. Remember: I’m the one providing snacks today, so you better play nice.”

“I don’t want your gross animal products anyways,” Sam declared.

“My mom picked up those vegan gummy worms you like,” Danny said, singsong. 

“I rescind my previous comment,” Sam said quickly.

“Thought you might.” Danny grinned at her.

Tucker pushed open the front doors, and Danny blinked as the bright midafternoon sun needled his eyes. He still couldn’t get over how normal everything else was. The clouds and the birds and the trees went on as if nothing had changed, and yet…and yet. But it did instill a degree of cautious optimism in his chest. If the world could keep on going as calm as ever, maybe he could too. Glancing around the parking lot, Danny spied the Fenton family car—a small red convertible, purchased years prior after Jazz insisted that they have at least one normal vehicle that was unequipped with crazy ghost-hunting equipment.

“Hey, Jazz!” Danny waved, trotting up to the car.

“Hey, Danny,” Jazz said. “Sam and Tucker, you two coming with?”

Tucker nodded. “Yup.”

“Hop in.” Jazz unlocked the car. 

The trio clambered inside, Danny snatching shotgun before his friends could complain. They clicked their seatbelts in and shoved their backpacks at their feet. Jazz started the engine. It grumbled to life, and the radio began playing a jangly rock song on low volume. 

“How was school today?” Jazz asked, backing up and pulling out of the parking spot.

Danny sunk a little lower in his seat. This was a thinly veiled way of asking “how is the Phantom situation going, and do I need to beat anyone up for you?”, and such questions were popping up even more than usual since their parents’ announcement. That wasn’t to say Danny didn’t appreciate Jazz’s concern. He did, and he tried to show it in quiet smiles and soft words. But he was getting tired of thinking about the incident, and even more tired of talking about it.

“It was fine,” Danny replied shortly.

Jazz glanced at him as she turned onto the street. “Fine?”

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t great, obviously,” Danny conceded. “Everyone’s still going on and on about ‘Phantom this’ and ‘Phantom that’ and ‘I think Phantom is so and so cause they always smell like old person’, and it's annoying as hell. Nothing dangerous happened, though. Nothing that could lead to someone finding out. So, it's fine. I’m fine.” 

“Alright,” Jazz said. “It's just, I know how stressful and scary this must be for you, and…I mean, I want to help if I can. Even if it's just listening.”

Danny blew out a heavy breath. “I know, Jazz.”

“Good.” Jazz smiled at him. “So, are you feeling up to talking about it today? I keep trying to get you to open up but you’re very stubborn when you want to be. I won’t push, but I think it would be good for you.”

“I think so too,” Tucker said. “You’ve been way too quiet lately.”

“It's true,” Sam agreed.

“I don’t feel like a therapy session right now,” Danny said, “so, thanks but no thanks.”

“C’mon, Danny, I promise I won’t interrupt at all,” Tucker said.

“If Danny doesn’t feel comfortable talking he doesn’t have to,” Jazz said. “Want some music?”

“Why not,” Sam said.

Jazz tapped the volume button a couple times, and a boisterous pop country song filled the car, the scratchy-voiced male singer rambling about a generic break-up with his girlfriend and his unreasonable adoration of his pick-up truck. Amity Park streets streaked by outside, houses melding together. Danny glanced surreptitiously behind him to see Sam staring out the window and Tucker scrolling on his phone, then at Jazz who was tapping her hand to the rhythm of the song on the steering wheel.

Danny let out a dragging groan. “Fine. Fine. You guys suck sometimes, you know that?” 

Jazz turned the volume down and looked at him.

Danny trained his eyes stubbornly out the window and clasped his hands together. “Okay, so, I guess I’ve been a little overwhelmed. A little. You’ve seen all the Phantom stuff going on around town, it's nuts! There may actually be more rumours than the time Lance Thunder went off grid for a month. I have a right to be upset by it. And alright, I’ll admit it, it's also stressing me out. It's like…all of sudden everybody is staring at me, and I’m just frozen like an idiot. I don’t know if I should do something, or just try to ignore everything…I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do. So I’m not doing anything. I’m stuck in this…what’s the saying, Mr. Lancer explained it last week…oh, suspended animation. And I keep expecting to walk around a corner and get tackled by some asshole—it’d be Wes with my luck—who managed to uncover a dumb mistake I made that proves I’m Phantom. Sam tapped me on the shoulder yesterday and I literally shrieked, Jazz.”

“True,” Tucker said. “It probably shattered some poor saps eardrums.”

“Tucker, you promised you wouldn’t interrupt,” Danny reminded him without an ounce of surprise.

“Whoops.”

Danny fiddled with a clump of his hair and regathered his thoughts. “Anyways,” he said. “I just feel kinda lost. This isn’t something I’ve ever had to deal with before, and I’ve dealt with some insane stuff. But I’ve thought about it a lot, like maybe an unhealthy amount—what would happen if someone figured out any of my secrets, of which there are many.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Out of all the scenarios I’ve come up with, this one is going pretty well. Surprisingly well. I’m still here, right? And Mom and Dad are…good-intentioned, I guess. Everybody’s looking for me, but they’re not hunting me. That’s important.”

Danny nibbled at his lip.

“Is it crazy for me to say…” he said softly. “That…that I’m almost glad this happened? Like, I know it's awful and dangerous, of course I know that. But…I mean, I’ve been carrying this secret around for so long, Jazz, and I’m…I’m tired. I’m really tired. And with everyone knowing that Phantom is half-human, its like part of this weight on my chest is gone and I can fuckin’ breath again. Which is stupid, maybe. ‘Cause I’m probably in more danger than before. But I still feel better, for some reason.”

Jazz pulled into their driveway and put the park brake on, but she didn’t move to get out, and neither did Sam or Tucker, so Danny swallowed the lump in his throat and went on. “I don’t like how intense everyone’s getting about this, but the fact that they know at all almost makes up for it. And…and I kinda wish that some of them knew that I’m Phantom. Not everyone!” He clarified. “I do not want to get dragged away by the GIW. But some people. Slowly. Can you…get that?” Danny twisted to face Jazz and gripped the sides of his seat. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Jazz said, and she bore the contemplative expression that meant she was carefully digesting what he’d said, so Danny knew she indeed could. 

The four of them sat in contemplation as Danny’s words hung in the air.

“Jazz?” Danny said finally.

“Yeah?” Jazz said.

“...Do you think I should tell Mom and Dad?” Danny said in a small voice.

Jazz was silent for a long moment. “...That’s not my decision to make, Danny.”

Danny ducked his head. Of course she wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

“Besides,” Jazz said. “You don’t need me to tell you what to do. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, and whatever you choose to do, I think everything will turn out just fine.”

“What does that mean?” Danny asked.

Jazz smiled cryptically at him, and he rolled his eyes.

“Right,” Danny said. “I need to ‘come to my own conclusions’.” He did air quotes.

“I dunno what Jazz means,” Tucker said. “But if you told your folks, me and Sam would be right there with you. Like uncomfortably close. Right behind you, breathing in your ear.”

Danny snorted. “Thanks, Tuck.”

“I wouldn’t though,” Sam said, and Danny shot her a confused look. “I would be behind your mom and dad with a raised baseball bat, in case they try anything funny. Whack, whack, no more problems for Danny.”

“Sam!” Danny and Jazz cried.

“Just sayin’.” Sam shrugged.

“How much are you joking?” Danny asked.

“At least three quarters,” Sam said.

“Eh, I’ll take it,” Danny said. “Better odds for you not beating the shit out of my parents than Armstrong figured for Apollo 11’s success.”

“This is true.” Tucker nodded wisely. “Danny, you really are alright? Not gonna spin out on us or anything?”

“No,” Danny said, “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Perfect.” Tucker clapped his hands. “So: snacks?”

Danny spun on him. “Oh, my god. Is that why you were asking? You asshole.”

“Nooooo,” Tucker drew out.

“Goddamn,” Danny said, laughing. “Snacks it is.”

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Danny slipped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Jazz strode up the walk and unlocked the front door, the little brain shaped keychain with the words “USE IT” jangling against the knob as she did. 

“Mom! Dad! We’re home!” Jazz shouted into the depths of the house.

“Hi sweetie!” Maddie’s faded voice echoed from the basement. “Be right up!”

Tucker bustled past them, yanking his sneakers off and dropping them in a haphazard pile by the door, then made a B-line for the kitchen. 

“Regular cupboard?” he asked.

“Yup,” Danny replied. “Go easy though, would ya? Mom just stocked up.”

Tucker threw open the snack cupboard and rummaged inside. “I make no promises!”

Hanging his jacket on the coat rack, Danny darted towards the staircase. “I’ll be right back. Sam, don’t let him eat all the good snacks! Also the gummy worms are in the pantry!”

As he ascended the wooden stairs they creaked in loud complaint beneath his feet, which would have been a problem for his twilight escapades if he couldn’t float over them. At the top Danny grasped the banister and swung himself down the hall. He barged through the door to his room, finding it as he had left it that morning—which meant it looked like the victim of a particularly vindictive tornado. His parents thought he was a slob, of course, and long ago gave up on trying to get him to tidy up. Maybe he’d feel more bad about this if he wasn’t acutely aware that ghost fighting left very little time for chores.

There was only one place Danny ever put his backpack, which was against the wall by his dresser, because if he put it anywhere else he never remembered where. This is where he tossed it, then rushed back downstairs before Tucker devoured all the food in the house.

“Hi, Danny!” Maddie greeted from the doorway to the basement.

Eugh.

Heaped in her arms were pages upon pages of newspaper cutouts, printed data read-outs, and photos of Danny as Phantom. She had her laptop open and buzzing away on the kitchen table too, lit up with real-time analytics of hers and Jack’s info on him. Jack was picking through the fridge, smearing bright green liquid of unknown origin all over its contents. Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Hi, Mom,” he said with reluctance.

Jazz eyed him intently.

“Howww’s it going?” Danny added, trying to dredge up an ounce of enthusiasm.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Maddie said, dumping her load on the table. “Me and your father are absolutely swamped with our Phantom research. But we always have time for you and Jazz!”

“Right,” Danny sighed. He wished she would have a little less time. 

“You don’t mind if we do this at the table, do you?” Maddie asked.

“No, no, not at all,” Danny lied. 

“So, Mom, what’re you working on?” Jazz asked, in a schooled cheerful tone—apparently Danny was not doing a good job of pretending to be normal.

“I’m glad you asked!” Maddie beamed. “We’ve been collecting all of our known facts on Phantom, in order to amalgamate them into a profile that could help us determine his human identity. For all the public appearances he has, we have very little hard information on him, so it could take some time. But together we’ll figure it out! Ghosts are our job, afterall.”

“Mom,” Danny said, and even he was alarmed to hear how worn down he sounded, “have you considered that maybe Phantom will share that when he’s ready?”

“What Danny means,” Jazz swooped in, “is don't you think searching for Phantom might chase him away? I know you’re doing what you think is best for him, but he has the right to decide when and with whom he shares his identity, right?”

Danny kept his expression blank, but bumped his shoulder against Jazz’s in thanks. His sister had a knack for finding the words he was unable to.

Maddie looked thrown, though she did nothing to shut down her work. “In principle I agree, but he’s had so long to tell someone, and he hasn’t. What if something happens to him? What if he gets hurt? Ghost hunting is dangerous: you two know that. Phantom deserves protection and assistance, and if he doesn’t feel safe enough to ask for it, we’ll give it to him.”

Jazz and Danny shared a look, and he saw conflict and sorrow stewing in her eyes.

“Danny, think fast!” Tucker called, and Danny jerked to catch the object thrown at him.

It was a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, Danny’s favourite pick-me-up snack. “Thanks, Tuck,” he said.

“No prob,” Tucker said. “C’mon, let's watch a movie.”

“My turn to pick, remember,” Sam said around her mouthful of vegan gummy worms. 

“I misplaced the remote,” Jack interjected, “but not to worry: we’ll find it in a jiffy!”

“That’s okay Mr. F,” Tucker said, “we’ll just watch in Danny’s room.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, deflating a bit. “You sure? It won’t take long, Jack probably left it under the cushions again.”

“Thanks, Mom, but don’t worry about it,” Danny said stiffly, and tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the unsure look on his mom’s face.

The trio headed for the stairs, Tucker feeling out the steps with his toes since he was unable to see around the stack of snack food cradled in his arms. 

“Y’know what, I’ll give you my turn to pick, Danny,” Sam said.

“In exchange for what?” Danny asked, suspicious.

“You’ll owe me,” Sam said, patting his arm. “I promise to be fair about it.”

“Nothing could possibly go wrong with that,” Danny snarked. “But alright.”

As they reached the top, Danny caught his name spoken in a hushed tone downstairs, and his enhanced hearing ensured he heard the rest of the exchange.

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Jazz murmured. “He’s been busy with school lately, that’s all.”

“But he’s been so quiet this week,” Maddie needled. “Like…like he used to be.”

“Mom, if Danny wants to talk to you, he will,” Jazz replied, with a definite degree of firmness. “Give him some space.”

“Okay,” Maddie said. “But I worry about him, sweetheart.”

“Why are we whispering?” Jack said, in his typical booming voice. “I’m sure Danno’s fine!”

“Jack, go back to the basement,” Maddie said. “I’ll be right there.” She reverted back to a whisper. “I need to know that he’s okay. He won’t talk to me, but you and Danny are good to each other, and I know there’s something going on that only you two know about. So please, Jasmine, just tell me whether or not he’s alright.”

Jazz sighed. “I promise, he’s fine. There’s something big and difficult he’s facing, and he’s a little freaked out. And I guess I am too. But you can’t fix this, and neither can I. Danny’s got this, Mom, I know he does.”

“I…Okay. Okay.”

Danny snuck a look back to see Maddie eyeing him in concern, before she followed Jack down to the basement to continue the plethora of Phantom tracking attempts they were in the midst of.

Sam and Tucker pushed into Danny’s room, flopping on the bed and laying out the snacks wherever there was space. Danny remained frozen at the edge of the stairs, feeling like he had invaded a moment that was not meant for him, and trying to shove the unwanted words of his mother and sister out of his head.

Sure, ghost abilities were cool and everything. But sometimes, more often than one might think, Danny wanted nothing more than to be rid of them. 

Chapter Text

“Have you considered asking Vlad to do something?” Tucker asked. 

Danny nearly choked on his sandwich. “Absolutely not!” he spluttered, sending bread crumbs flying. “I’d rather wash my dad’s socks than turn to that fruitloop!”

A number of eyes in the cafeteria turned on Danny at this outburst, and he ducked his head. 

“Tucker, why on earth would we ever ask Vlad of all people for help?” Sam said in disdain. She picked up a baby carrot and bit into it with an aggressive snap. “What good has that asshole ever done?”

“None,” Danny concurred. 

“I dunno.” Tucker shrugged. “The guy has money, right? Like an obscene amount of money? Maybe he could bribe the network into calling your parents’ announcement misinformation or something.”

“Like I said, there is no way I’m going to Vlad,” Danny said. “Besides, what makes you think he’d come running to our assistance? He’s only marginally less horrible without his obsession. He sucked before the lab accident, and no matter how much he tries to claim the ‘redeemed’ schtick, Vlad remains Vlad. Once a creep, always a creep. Also: I’m pretty sure he still has the hots for my mom.”

“Have to agree with you there,” Tucker admitted.

“Thank god she takes zero shit from him,” Danny said, taking a sip from his water bottle, “‘cause I do not even want to imagine having Vlad as a stepdad.”

The three of them shared a collective shudder. 

“Anyways,” Danny continued, “the only time Vlad ever talks to me now is to try to convince me to make a fool of my dad, or leak my parents’ ghost tech. Or to practice his dumb insults on me. I’m sure if I called in a favour he’d barf or something. We’ve gotta find a different solution.”

Across the room, Dash scrambled up on top of a table and waved his phone in the air. “We’ve got it! Wes is Phantom!” he declared. “Look—this video shows Phantom going into an alley, and Wes and Danny coming out!” 

The student body abandoned their lunches in favour of a wild uproar, everyone swarming the A-Listers’ table and grappling for a look at the afore-mentioned video. Lunch trays, empty milk cartons, and stray vegetables went flying. 

“I assumed our school couldn’t get any more oblivious,” Tucker commented, staring in stunned confusion at the chaos, “but clearly I was mistaken.”

“Whatever the solution is,” Sam said to Danny in exasperation, “can we find it soon?”

Sam tapped Danny on the shoulder. “What if we doctor a photo of someone else transforming into Phantom?” she whispered.

At the front of the classroom, Lancer paused his chalk-scrawling to turn his ear suspiciously in their direction, before continuing to copy the quote they were analyzing. It was some old Greek one about life and death and the intimate balance between them, which Danny was pretty sure Lancer chose because of the Phantom news. Maybe this was the teacher’s way of showing subtle support. Or he just liked morbid motifs.

“Keep it down,” Danny hissed, leaning towards Sam. 

“I bet Tucker could make it look convincing,” Sam added, lowering her voice and hunching closer as well. “And if it was high quality, one might be all it takes to lead everybody down the wrong rabbit hole.”

“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Danny muttered. “Action News hired some big-shot hoax analyst to confirm all the ‘Phantom evidence’ submissions. Unless Tucker’s more of an expert than she is, nothing he makes is getting past her.”

“Mr. Fenton, Ms. Manson, something you want to share with the class?” Lancer said.

“No, Mr. Lancer!” Danny said quickly, jerking upright. “Sorry.”

“Thought not,” Lancer droned. “Let's keep our in-class comments related to course material then, hm?”

“Fine,” Sam said.

Her and Danny settled back in Lancer-approved postures in their chairs.

Danny rummaged in his locker for his pencil case, huffing when he felt it slide off his stack of books and to the back. He stood up on tiptoe and strained, patting around until he grasped the cool plastic of the zipper, and yanked it forward. He tucked it into the interior pocket of his backpack.

With a firm shove the locker door slammed shut to reveal Tucker’s face right behind it. Danny yelped. 

“I could talk to my mom about doing a press conference,” Tucker said.

“Tuck!” Danny snapped, putting a hand to his thumping heart. “Sheesh!”

“Mayor Foley telling people to let up on Phantom would at least calm things down a bit,” Tucker elaborated. “Give you some room to breathe.”

Danny rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. “That wouldn’t work forever,” he said. “And what are you gonna say to her? ‘Make people stop bothering Phantom, not for any particular reason, I don’t know the guy personally or anything obviously hahaha’?” Danny crossed his arms. “We both know your mom: she’s gonna need more explanation than that.”

“That’s true,” Tucker admitted. “Honestly, it's weird she hasn’t said anything about this yet. With the truce and everything she seems to be a Phantom fan.”

Danny rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I have kinda been avoiding talking to her as Phantom. Could be that.” 

“Why? What's up?” Tucker asked. 

“I’d feel weird about it,” Danny said. “Now that she knows I’m half-human. I dunno, Tuck, how am I supposed to behave with all the people I convinced I was just a ghost? The whole thing is super awkward. So…”

“So you’re not talking to any of them?” Tucker finished. “Great strategy, dude.”

“Helpful.” Danny scowled at Tucker.

“Val barely trusts Phantom at the best of times,” Tucker pointed out. “She’s probably gonna beat you up for avoiding her.”

“Yeah.” Danny winced. “Probably.”

“Maybe if we split Danny with the Fenton Ghost Catcher,” Sam said, stroking her chin, “we could make his parents do the scan again, but on full-ghost Phantom…It would look like he isn’t half-human at all.”

“That’s good!” Tucker said. “We could blame faulty equipment for the first time—no offense, Danny, but with your dad’s track record people would definitely buy that.”

“We can’t just throw my dad under the bus!” Danny threw his hands in the air. “Besides, the damage is done. Nothing’s gonna make Amity Park give this up. Plus, my dad’s right for once, I can’t take that away from him.”

“That sentimentality of yours is gonna get you in trouble one day,” Sam said.

“Like it hasn’t already?” Danny griped, wishing there was a rock to kick dramatically down the linoleum floor of the hallway.

“You think the Ops Center blimp would make it across the Pacific?” Tucker pondered.

“Guys,” Danny groaned, “I appreciate the effort, I really do, but believe me when I say any solution you can come up with, I’ve already thought about in excruciating detail.” 

“No sleep again last night, huh?” Tucker asked.

Danny pointed severely at the dark bags under his eyes. “Not a wink.”

“That sucks,” Sam said.

“Yup,” Danny agreed. “I guess sleeping one room away from my Phantom-crazy parents will do that to a person. Especially if that person is me.”

“Speaking of.” Sam jerked a thumb in the direction of the entrance hall.

Resigned, Danny followed Sam’s gesture just in time to witness Jack slap a massive poster featuring a grainy photo of Phantom on the school announcement board. A sizable crowd made up of a hodge-podge of dubious teachers and inquisitive students was gathered in a semi-circle around Maddie and Jack, as often happened when they went out in public. Danny snatched Tucker’s and Sam’s sleeves and hauled them back around the corner before either of his parents could notice their presence.

Tucker squinted. “‘Are YOU in contact with Phantom?’” he read aloud from the poster. “‘If so, please refer him to Maddie and Jack Fenton of Fenton Works. Help us help Phantom!’...Yeesh.”

Jack dug around in his pocket and pulled out an improbably-sized megaphone. “Students and faculty of Casper High!” he declared. “It has come to our attention that there have been no official Phantom sightings since mine and Maddie’s broadcast on Monday! But fear not: if ill fate has befallen the ghost boy, we will get to the bottom of it and save him! And that’s a Fenton promise!”

Maddie jumped up and grabbed the megaphone. “Yes, and also: if you speak with Phantom, please assure him that he is in no danger! Both us and the Amity Park Police Department want nothing more than to offer our assistance! Thank you, that is all!”

With this, Maddie and Jack charged back out the doors from whence they came, likely off to shout their proclamation at more unsuspecting victims.

“Did they have to choose that picture?” Danny complained. “It's not even recent. And I look terrible.”

“You do seem particularly dorky,” Sam said.

“Why are your arms like that?” Tucker asked. “They’re like, super stretched out.”

“I was avoiding a blast from Skulker,” Danny explained. “My mom took the picture right as I was pulling them back. She was really excited about it, something about how catching ghost powers on camera helps them figure out how they work.”

“You look like Slenderman,” Sam commented.

“Thanks,” Danny said dryly, as Tucker snickered.

“For real though,” Sam said, “your parents are on a serious mission here. I never thought I’d see them get so worked up about helping a ghost.”

“I know,” Danny said, nodding. “Whiplash.”

“I’m not saying you should tell them,” Tucker said, “but Danny, you might want to tell them. If there’s one thing your parents are, it’s stubborn.”

“I’d argue it’s nuts,” Danny said, “but I’ll give it to you.”

“They clearly care about Phantom,” Sam said. “Even though they don’t know Phantom is their kid. That says something, doesn’t it?”

“It says they’re too overprotective for their own good,” Danny said. 

“Are you being difficult on purpose?” Sam narrowed her eyes at him.

“No,” Danny huffed. “I’m simply not thrilled with the idea of telling my parents I’ve been lying to them for years. About being half-ghost, no less. Sure, they’re cool with Phantom being half-human right now, but what about when they find out I’m Phantom? Best case scenario: I’m grounded for 20 years.”

“You can stay at my house if you need to,” Tucker offered. “I’m sure my parents won’t care that you’re Phantom. In fact, it might make it easier for my mom to organize ghost stuff with you.”

Danny tightened his grip on his backpack strap, stared at the dirty floor, and tried to ignore his constricting throat. “That’s okay, Tuck,” he said hoarsely.

Sam grasped Danny’s shoulder. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Me too.”

“Sorry, dude,” Tucker said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Danny offered him a small smile. “I know you didn’t.”

“Alright, boys, let’s go,” Sam said, first checking to make sure both Fenton parents were gone before strolling down the hall. “Don’t want to miss our last class.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tucker saluted. “Want my notes from yesterday, Danny?”

“Please,” Danny said. “I remember nothing.”

“That would be because you fell asleep ten minutes in,” Sam said.

Danny cringed. “Ah…Nobody saw me drooling or anything, did they?”

“Oh, Danny,” Tucker said, “ everybody saw you drooling.”

“Awesome,” Danny grumbled.

Despite the help from Sam and Tucker, Danny was not doing great in his classes. Which was unfortunate, because finals were around the corner and he was running out of time to be shell shocked. Though, his grades were still better than they were in the year after the portal accident. Unfortunately, now he also had to worry about university—even the mid-tier ones didn’t accept D students. Yet another stressor to bite his nails about. The really tragic thing was Danny had been juggling ghost and school responsibilities with respectable finesse up until Monday.

The front door emitted a metallic whine as Danny shoved it open with his shoulder. That morning angry clouds had gathered on the horizon, and Action News took a break from their Phantom raving to announce that there was a high chance of a downpour. But that broke up in the afternoon after a light drizzle, and left only a scattering of thin white strips of cloud high above. The smell of rain, rich like soil, still hung in the air. A gust of wind swept across the schoolyard and tousled Danny’s hair, running through it like ghostly fingers.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, and Danny settled on the cement steps to wait for Sam and Tucker.

“Fenton.” 

Danny looked up, and threw the intruder his best unimpressed glower. “Wes.”

The red-head was wearing a long, heavy, waterproof brown trench coat, presumably in preparation for the predicted rainstorm. With the current weather, though, it was quite overkill. Danny opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment about it, but Wes spoke first.

“Look,” he said, sitting down beside Danny. “I know you don’t like me very much.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Danny said, deadpan.

Wes frowned at him. “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at hiding it. But let’s not get into that, okay?” He held up his hands. “I come in peace.”

“I’m a ghost,” Danny said blandly, “not an alien.”

At this blatant admittal with not a single soul as witness, Wes glared at Danny. “You’re half- ghost,” he corrected. “And I’m serious. I want to propose a ceasefire.”

“Why?” Danny eyed Wes guardedly.

“I don’t want the GIW to kidnap you,” Wes said bluntly. “I don’t want Amity Park to drive you out, and I don’t want you to be in danger. Especially not because of me. I never wanted that. The one thing I want is for people to know the truth.” He stared gravely at Danny. “But not if that means putting you at risk. I’m not a monster.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Danny said, immediately regretting it.

“I’m going to ignore that,” Wes said with measured patience, “because I can tell you’re under a lot of pressure. My terms are this: I won’t leak any potentially-destructive evidence on you until the dust settles and I decide it’s safe to do so; and until then you and your friends won’t steal my equipment,” he began counting on his fingers, “hack into my computer, corrupt my files, and most importantly, you won’t start some scheme to frame me as Phantom.”

Danny considered defending himself against this claim, but to be fair, Wes wasn’t wrong. That was an option he was mulling over.

“So.” Wes held out a hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“...Sure, okay.” Danny took the proffered hand and shook it. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Wes said. 

Danny cracked a slow grin. “This is a little, tiny bit about you wanting to be the guy who gets me, isn’t it?”

“It hardly counts if your parents reveal you,” Wes huffed.

“Fair enough,” Danny said. 

Rising to his feet, Wes dusted nonexistent dust off his legs. He stuffed his hands in his comically large pockets and started down the front steps, then stopped and turned to face Danny once again.

“Good luck, Danny,” said Wes. “You might be needing it.”

Hearing his actual name out of Wes’ mouth left Danny in stunned silence. Wind flapped Wes’ coat slowly as he walked and he looked almost distinguished. Tucker and Sam tromped down the steps to stand beside Danny, joining him in watching Wes trudge away.

“What did Wes want?” Sam asked. 

“He offered to leave us alone if we leave him alone,” Danny replied, then held up his hand and stared at it like it was an alien appendage. “We shook on it.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Sam muttered. 

“What next,” Tucker said, “Lancer going easy on detentions?”

“At this point, nothing could surprise me,” Danny said.

“Why would you say that?” Sam said. “Never say shit like that. Now something surprising will happen, probably something bad.”

“Hey, Wesley Weston just agreed to go easy on me,” Danny defended. “I’d say I deserve some slack.”

Sam’s expression softened at this, and she conceded with a tilt of her head. She folded her legs and plunked down beside Danny, leaning against him. Tucker crouched and sat on Danny’s other side, shuffling until he was pressed into Danny’s shoulder. The warmth of their bodies swirled into Danny’s, easing the anxiety built up in him and sending his core thrumming gently. 

Chapter Text

2:04 AM, read the red lit-up digital clock at Danny’s bedside. Last time he’d checked, it was 1:12 AM. He had been awake since then, staring hard at the ceiling, forcing himself to be still. He knew he needed to sleep. It was Thursday—or, technically, now it was Friday—and he had slept maybe seven hours total since Monday. And that was being generous with his calculations. Jazz would have his head. But Danny simply was not able to drift off, there was too much rattling around inside him, too many thoughts and too much stress.

Danny groaned. If he wasn’t going to sleep after almost an hour, he wasn’t going to sleep at all.

He rolled over and slid his feet over the edge of his bed, easing himself up slow enough that the frame didn’t squeak. Grabbing his phone off the bedside table and pulling on his grey Dumpty Humpty hoodie, Danny tiptoed to the door, opened it with great care, and peeked out.

The house was still. If it was Christmas time, a “not a creature was stirring, not even a ghost” joke would have been apt. Alas, it was not. Also, although there was no shuffling from Danny’s family members getting up to pee or sneaking a late night fudge snack, Jack’s foundation-rattling snores prevented genuine quiet from blanketing anything in a 500 foot radius.

Nobody to notice Danny creeping stealthily down the stairs and to the front door, so he made it outside into the cool night air without incident.

The lights on all the houses on the block were shut off. It was overcast, clouds catching the moon’s glow and cocooning the streets against the empty openness of space. Except for the flickering street lights, there was nothing but sleepy darkness in Amity Park.

Although Danny couldn’t see anyone up and about, just for good measure he ducked behind the family car before shifting. His core buzzed, awakening at this call to action. Familiar blue rings carried over his body. They cast Danny’s surroundings in a faint cyan luminance, before they flickered away and left smooth black suit, snow white hair, and glowing green eyes in their place.

Gravity floundered its grasp on Danny, his form unloosening like frayed rope, and the ghostly energy that was muted under his human skin now crackling on the surface. 

It felt good to transform again, like breathing fresh air after hours trapped in a crowded plane. The three days following the incident were the longest Danny had ever gone without doing so. He desperately wanted to travel into the Ghost Zone and consult Clockwork, or rant to Dora, or even just do some target practice to get his mind off things.

Unfortunately, it was risky to appear anywhere as Phantom amidst the commotion centering on him, and he’d forced himself to stay human for the time being.

But it was currently so early in the morning the sun had yet to show its face, and even if someone were to notice him, who would believe a person wandering around at such an atrocious hour?

Additionally, Danny was pretty sure he would go crazy if he went one more day without flying. 

Danny bent his knees and shot off into the sky. Early on, this rapid gain in altitude left him lightheaded and sent his stomach flipping, but these days he found it exhilarating. Chilled wind bristled his face and snagged at his hair.

In seconds Danny was soaring high above the city skyline, the imposing buildings fading into children’s toys.

He directed more energy into accelerating and whooped as the world bled into a blur around him. He felt breathless, but since he didn’t need breath, he cast his arms out wide and threw himself into a wild spin, laughing as he tumbled through the open air. 

At first, Danny flew without aim, simply relishing in the freedom it gave him. But after a while, he paused and then turned for the western edge of town.

As he approached the city limits, Danny saw the woods rise up in the distance. It ran on for miles, towering old growth trees and thick brambles that were broken only by a strip of highway. This is where he went when he wanted to be alone.

There were other options in Amity Park, but none of them guaranteed solitude. Especially because Sam and Tucker knew about them and would follow Danny if they were concerned. But no-one had any reason to venture into the woods, and Danny’s friends were unaware that it was one of his favourite haunts. 

Danny slowed as the landscape changed from stout structures and road signs into forest floor and shrubbery, gliding over the treetops and brushing a hand over their leaves as he went. He continued until the skyscrapers behind him were thin points on the horizon.

Easing to a stop, Danny floated down and landed on a rolling hill. Before him was a rather expansive body of water, one he had affectionately named Freak-Out Lake, because he spent many an afternoon sitting at its edge and trying to curb his panic over the ghost-related disaster of the week. Conifers, birch trees, and poplar trees populated the surrounding area.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was not a single other person in sight.

Danny planted his feet firmly in a wide stance, sucked in a long breath, and Wailed.

Into it he poured all his fear, all his anger and frustration, pent up without a place to go since that Monday. The bone-shattering shriek of it rubbed his throat raw and it felt good. The shockwave whipped the water of the lake into a frothed frenzy that would make a hurricane proud, whirled dirt and leaves in a violent spiral, and savagely tore the branches from the trees unfortunate enough to stand in the way. 

Danny Wailed until there was nothing left inside him but exhaustion. 

Having used up every last drop of energy, ghostly or emotional or otherwise, Danny involuntarily turned human. His weakened legs quivered and he collapsed to his knees.

When he was in the middle of a serious fight with an enemy, this side effect of the Wail was a dangerous hindrance, but today he welcomed it. His nerves and spinning thoughts were quieted at last.

Danny slumped onto his back, exhaling long and settling his hands on his stomach. From this perspective on the ground the trees were angled on a circular slant, as if positioned to shield him from the world beyond.

Summoning a final flicker of power, Danny shifted back to his ghost form, allowing a small degree of weightlessness to take hold and lessen the pressure of the Earth on his body. 

There was a broad gap in the clouds now, revealing the bulbous moon and its gentle halo. Scattered around it were stars, pinpricks in space like holes in the top of a jar.

Out here and away from the light pollution of the city they were dazzling. Danny wondered which ones had burnt out ages ago, merely echoes of a legacy now passed on to younger protostars, lingering requests to be remembered. He scanned the sky and found Orion’s Belt, Alnitak and Alnilam and Mintaka lined up and burning resolutely. 

Across Danny’s face, radiant green freckles winked into existence like fireflies to match the stars above. If he looked in a mirror, Danny knew he would see his very own Orion’s Belt over the bridge of his nose. His core pulsed a joyful beat in his chest. 

For many ghosts, their obsession was something aggressive or violent, unwanted by the ghost themself but something they were physiologically unable to ignore.

He had suspected for a while that many of the ghosts he fought regularly were not so much villainous as caught in the throes of a twisted obsession. Skulker and hunting, Ember and adoration, Technus and technological improvement, the Box Ghost and…well, boxes.

This hypothesis was proven correct when Danny, Sam, and Tucker managed to earn the trust of the majority of local sentient ghosts (supported by Clockwork’s endorsement), and dissipate their obsessions using the Harmonizer. Once left without the cacophonous scream of their obsessions, even ghosts like Skulker and Ember turned out to be dependable allies—the exception being Vlad.

But for Danny, his space obsession was never harmful to himself or anyone else. It felt mostly the same as his normal, human love for space had before the lab accident.

He had a hunch it wasn’t truly an obsession at all, but rather an amplification of his natural interest. Except, of course, for the freckles, humming core, and astonishing factual recall. Danny couldn’t memorize a Shakespeare sonnet if his half-life depended on it, but he could remember the name of every single astronaut with ease.

Aglow with the wonder of the cosmos and drowsy from the drain of the Wail, Danny lay splayed on the hill and allowed the tension built up in his limbs to seep away.

He plucked a dandelion absently, twirling it between his gloved fingers. Once he had read a poem about how dandelions started out yellow suns and became silver moons when they went to seed. He thought about it a lot. The space parallel ablazed them in a vivid kind of beauty.

From the woods at his back pierced the loud crack of a stick snapping, and Danny flung himself upright and whipped around, fear sparking down his limbs.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Maddie said, holding out a placating hand.

Danny slackened, but didn’t respond.

“Hi, Phantom,” Maddie greeted. She kept her head bowed and her eyes on Danny, not approaching him but not retreating either. “You probably know me. My name is Madeline Fenton, I’m an ecto-scientist. Me and my husband Jack have been looking for you. You…you’ve heard about the announcement, right?”

Danny nodded stiffly. 

“We know you’re half-human,” Maddie said softly, almost apologetically. “We don’t want to hurt you. I can understand why you would think we would, though….We haven’t treated you well in the past.” Her face pinched with guilt. “You or any other ghost. But we’re learning. We’re trying. And I want to help you, if I can. If you’ll let me.”

 Danny willed the typically soft distorting buzz in his ghostly voice to strengthen and disguise it. “...What are you doing way out here?” he asked flatly.

Maddie brightened when he spoke, but she quickly dampened her excitement. “We haven’t seen any sign of you in days,” she explained, “not in Amity Park. So I made a list of locations nearby that aren’t in the city. This was the one place no-one else has thought to check. And your Ghostly Wail is hard to miss.”

“Very scientific of you,” Danny said. 

“Well.” Maddie smiled a small smile. “I am a scientist.”

Danny drew up his knees and rested his chin on them. Of course his mom would find him at the one place he was sure nobody would consider. Maddie knew Danny so well, even when she wasn’t aware of it.

“...Is it okay if I sit with you?” Maddie questioned in a hushed tone, ever so careful. 

Danny shrugged and avoided looking at her. “I guess.”

Maddie eased up to him and sat criss-cross-applesauce at his side. Danny was pretty sure this was the closest he’d ever been to her as Phantom.

It would be so easy to lean against her like he did at home, natural and simple. But he didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” Maddie asked. 

Short and to the point. No bullshit or beating around the bush today.

“No,” Danny replied, turning to face Maddie. “I’m not. Everyone knows I’m half-human now. I can’t go five minutes without hearing someone going on about me, and who I could be as a human. It’s scary, and intrusive, and it sucks.” His green eyes flashed as they bore into hers. 

Maddie flinched, and Danny couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or remorse. He looked back to the lake. Either way, he didn’t like it. 

“I’ll admit,” Maddie said, “me and Jack may have gotten a bit carried away. Sometimes we let our scientific curiosity get the best of us. But we still want to offer our support. I didn’t intend to distress you, Phantom…Is that your real name? Phantom?”

“By real name, you mean human name?” Danny asked, a touch bitterly.

“Yes,” Maddie said.

Danny shook his head.

“...May I ask what it is?” Maddie asked.

Danny fiddled with his glove, running his finger along the seam. “Not right now.”

“Alright,” Maddie said, sending him an olive-branch smile. “You don’t have to share anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Why are you doing this?” Danny asked coarsely.

“What?” Concern and confusion bled into Maddie’s face.

“Why are you doing this, mo—Doctor Fenton,” Danny said. “Why does it even matter to you, what happens to me. You don’t know me. I’m nobody to you. Worse, I used to be your enemy.” He gripped his arms. “Molecule by molecule, remember?”

Maddie didn’t reply for a moment, instead tilting her head back and gazing up at the sky.

“I just know if one of my kids were in your situation,” she said eventually, soft and earnest, “I’d want someone to take care of them.”

Tears pricked Danny’s eyes and he blinked them away before Maddie could notice.

“Oh,” he said stupidly.

Maddie put a hesitant hand on Danny’s shoulder. He started and met her eyes.

“You know where to find me,” Maddie said kindly. “The Fenton Works sign is pretty obvious. Please come, if you need anything. Anything at all.” She patted Danny’s arm and stood. “I’ll be waiting.”

Maddie pulled out the Fenton Gadget Finder, which flashed an icon of the GAV, and started off in the direction it pointed out. Danny almost laughed. That was his mom, forever prepared.

He watched as Maddie disappeared into the trees.

Morning was at last making itself known, the sun inching out from behind the mountains. Danny remained motionless as its rays heightened and poked through the forest canopy.

Danny figured it was probably time to head back, before his family clued into his absence, yet he didn’t stir. 

Maddie cared enough about Phantom to venture into the woods in the middle of the night on the off chance that he happened to be there. She didn’t try to force him to come with her or convince him to go through any tests. And there was real, vulnerable empathy in her eyes. 

Something cracked open in Danny’s chest, falling away and surrendering to a raw sort of pang.

It felt a lot like hope. 

Chapter Text

“So, yeah,” Danny said, “it seems like my parents really are on Phantom’s side. My mom didn’t even ask any ghost biology questions.”

Danny watched as Sam and Tucker pondered this new development. One of Sam’s parents’ friends waved at her from a yard across the street, and Sam waved absentmindedly back. 

Jazz was using the Fenton car that day to drive upstate for a one-day volunteer job, Tucker’s parents had theirs at one of Mrs. Foley’s mayoral meetings, Sam’s parents wouldn’t let her anywhere near their precious Moorscedes—and Danny only drove the clunky, fully armed GAV out of necessity. So, they were walking home for once.

“Told you guys you’d want to wait till after school to hear this,” Danny said. 

“No weapons or anything?” Tucker asked.

“None that I could see,” Danny said. 

“Not even that lipstick blaster?” Sam pressed.

“Nope,” Danny said.

“Welp,” Tucker said, “your mom officially passes the Tucker Vibe Check.”

Danny smirked at him. “All that takes is a full snack cupboard.”

“Blasphemy,” Tucker gasped. “How dare you.”

“What matters is if she passes the Danny Vibe Check,” Sam said. “So, does she?”

“I’m still working on that,” Danny replied, hoisting his backpack higher on his shoulders.

A car whizzed past the trio, blasting through a substantial puddle and sending a wave of stagnant water towards them. Danny grasped Sam’s and Tucker’s arms and turned them all intangible. The torrent passed through them harmlessly.

Whoops.

Danny solidified them as quick as he could and glanced around, sighing in relief when he didn’t see anybody gaping.

“Great job disguising the ol’ secret identity,” Tucker said. “But thanks.”

“It’s a mystery how you’ve lasted this long,” Sam said.

“Shut up,” Danny said.

They continued down the sidewalk. 

“If you are going to tell them,” Sam said, “maybe you should do it on the weekend. That gives you two days to work through everything, no interruptions.”

“That doesn’t sound appealing at all.” Danny winced. 

“Would you rather come clean and then spend all day at school freaking out about it?” Tucker said.

“Point taken,” Danny said. “I’ve got time still today to think, I guess.”

“TGIF,” Tucker joked.

“Hate that.” Sam pointed at him and then at her house. “This is me. Danny, text when you decide, yeah? And me and Tucker will totally show up to intimidate your parents if you want. I’m sure Jazz’d let me borrow the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick.”

“‘Kay,” Danny said. “Bye, Sam.”

He and Tucker waved at Sam as she trotted up her driveway, then the pair crossed the street and headed for Danny’s house. A crow landed heavily on a power line ahead of them and squawked, an obnoxious and guttural sound.

“Look,” Tucker said, gesturing at the bird, “it's you.”

Danny elbowed him. “Rude!”

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Tucker added, unaffected by the attack. “That’s the exact noise you make when you’re losing at Doomed.”

“That’s cold, Tuck,” Danny said. “Real cold.”

“And here we are!” Tucker declared, opening his arms before his house. “I leave you with that sick-ass burn and bid you adieu.”

“Just because you used to wear a beret doesn’t make you French!” Danny yelled after Tucker as he strode up the walk. 

“Bye, Danny!” Tucker called, closing the door.

Danny giggled to himself and turned towards home. He could always rely on messing around with his friends to cheer him up. 

At any rate, getting compared to a crow was more of a compliment than Tucker assumed. Crows were intelligent animals, capable of solving puzzles and using tools, as Jazz was happy to describe to Danny. 

He could use a little crow-ness right now.

In most books Danny had read, when people ate, their utensils were described as clinking. With the fervour Jack applied to his dinner it was closer to screeching. To be fair, it was pork chops. The Fentons did a mean pork chop. Jazz and Maddie dug in with considerably more patience, even pausing between bites to speak. Danny was sticking to salad—he didn’t have much of an appetite.

“I can’t believe you talked to Phantom!” Jack said, once his plate was fully empty. 

“I can’t quite believe it myself,” Maddied admitted. “I’ve not once heard him say more than a few words at a time—beyond the quips, of course—and we had a whole conversation.”

“You did?” Jazz asked, eyes widening and flitting to Danny.

“We did,” Maddie confirmed. “He seemed…lonely. I hope he’ll take me up on my offer, but me and your father agreed we should let him come on his own. We know you teenagers like your space, right Danny?”

“Ha,” Danny forced weakly. “Right.”

Maddie cut a slice of pork chop. “But enough about Phantom, how are you kids doing? Summer’s almost here, you excited? Any plans?”

“I’m fine,” Danny said. “Lots of school stuff to do, with final exams and everything. I haven’t thought about summer break much yet. I’ve been busy.”

“Well, just let me know if you want any help with your studying,” Maddie offered. 

“Thanks, Mom,” Danny said. “Um. I’m gonna go up to my room if that’s okay.”

“You sure?” Maddie said. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I have to finish my homework,” Danny said.

“We love the dedication, son,” Jack said, “but you have the whole weekend to do that, dontcha?”

“I’d like to keep Saturday and Sunday free,” Danny said evasively.

“Alright,” Maddie said with a dubious look. “Put your dishes in the dishwasher before you go.”

Danny scraped the rest of his food—which was most of it—into the garbage can, rinsed off the plate, and stuck it and his fork in the dishwasher as requested. 

“Night, guys,” Danny said, bounding up the stairs.

“It's only seven o’clock!” Jazz cried.

“I have a lot of homework!” Danny countered.

He could feel his family’s eyes on the back of his head, but Danny ignored this and hastened to his room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the door and slid down it, drawing out a lengthy groan. 

That was not the slickest way to escape from dinner. 

But he needed to get away from his parents. He needed time to think.

Danny hadn’t totally bullshitted the homework crisis, there was indeed a rather thick stack tucked in his backpack. Most of it wasn’t due until next Friday, however, so he could afford to leave it for a couple days. 

The thing he truly intended to spend his evening on was deciding whether or not to admit to his parents that he was Phantom. Considering the complexity of the issue, Danny figured it would eat up the rest of Friday and a chunk of Saturday morning. 

Danny retrieved his favourite pair of pajamas—black T-shirt emblazoned with a graphic of the solar system and dark blue pants covered in white cartoon stars. He undressed and tugged them on. Yesterday he had distracted himself by finally doing his laundry and the fabric was soft from the dryer. 

Plugging his phone in and setting it on his bedside table, Danny collapsed on top of his comforter. He found he did his best thinking lying in bed. 

He folded his hands on his stomach and allowed his thoughts to unravel. And unravel they did, seizing the chance to burst past Danny’s mental floodgates. 

Memories flooded his brain so fast he only managed a glimpse at each, little snippets of internal dialogue commenting on this and that, twinges of joy and fear and grief plucking at his heart. Time wandered by, marked by the light leaking through his blinds slowly pulling back. 

Danny worked through each thought and tried not to rush himself. With some picking apart and amalgamation, all of it condensed down to a few statements. 

Danny’s parents cared about Danny.

Danny’s parents cared about Phantom.

Danny was Phantom and Phantom was Danny.

Danny’s parents didn’t hate ghosts anymore—they seemed regretful that they once had.

Danny needed help dealing with Amity Park knowing Phantom was a halfa.

Danny didn’t want to hide anymore.

Normally Sam switched her phone to silent when she went to bed, but that evening she left it on. Thus, she awoke blearily just past midnight to the Star Trek boatswain whistle of Danny’s text tone. 

Sam groped for her phone, grasping it and raising it above her face, squinting into the sharp blue light. She punched in the password with sleep-clumsy fingers and checked the displayed message.

I’m going to tell them tomorrow, it read, wish me luck. 

Chapter Text

Danny awoke on Saturday morning to a sick stomach and sweaty palms. For a moment this confused him, because such sensations meant he was anxious, and what kind of idiot was anxious about waking up? 

But then Danny’s firm decision to tell his parents his long-kept secret barreled into him like a cargo truck with a snipped brake line. He whined pathetically and flopped on his side, burrowing his face into his pillow. 

Perhaps if Danny did not get up, he would not have to tell his parents anything.

He glowered to himself. That genre of excuse worked less well considering this choice was all his own. There was nothing to gain in putting it off, and in all likelihood that would only serve to make him even more anxious. 

Danny had many, many good reasons for telling the truth. Alas, they were much more reassuring when considered in theory. 

Everyone else was up and about already, Danny could hear voices and the clicks, clacks, and clonks of breakfast coming along downstairs. That meant it was probably already 9:30 or 10:00, ‘cause the Fentons were not known for being early risers. Unless ghosts were involved. Which, he supposed, would soon be the case. 

Swiping crusted sleep from his eyes, Danny trudged to his dresser. He tried not to think about the imminent, life-altering event waiting for him in the kitchen, because he was sure if it solidified in his mind he would charge intangibly through the wall and fly until he couldn’t fly any longer. 

People called Phantom courageous, and sometimes he was. But right now Danny didn’t feel very courageous, or confident, or heroic. 

Right now he felt like a frightened, watery-eyed kid. 

Danny picked through the tangle of shirts in one of his dresser drawers, such a hefty clump in fact that the drawer wouldn’t fully close, not even when he employed a touch of inhuman strength into the effort. 

He selected the NASA T-shirt his mom had gifted him for Christmas the year before, along with the white long sleeve undershirt he often paired it with. Then he grabbed a pair of well-loved blue jeans and set to the reluctant task of dressing. The muggy feeling in his heavy head brought on by sleep deprivation, stress, and an excess of serious thinking made every movement sluggish. He scooped his phone, checked that it was on silent, and dropped it in the wide side pocket in his jeans. 

Danny felt a little braver clothed in his favoured outfit. He latched onto this impression as he padded out of his room. 

At the railing he hesitated. 

These were the last skirting moments of life as he had come to know it. Whatever may happen beyond today was cloaked in shadow, not even Clockwork could peer through it—and Danny had made him check on numerous occasions. How the future would treat a Danny Phantom known to his parents was a mystery.

And it would continue to be if Danny didn’t buckle down and meet the future head-on. 

Down the stairs and through the threshold to the kitchen Danny went, the world dulled from the rigid strain of withholding the storm of emotion hammering inside him. Colours were muted, sounds submerged in water. Danny swayed forward as if sleepwalking. Impulse alone guided him matronly towards his family, clustered around the kitchen table and arranging waffles, eggs, and orange juice upon it. 

Maddie’s face was lit with a warm grin, her greying doe-brown hair falling from where she often tucked it behind her ears. Jack was chuckling at something Jazz had said, an impressive array of condiments clasped tenuously in his hands. Jazz had her arms crossed and her shoulder sloped like she often did when in a teasing mood. 

Sunlight spun dust motes drifting in the air above the sink. Bowls and measuring cups littered the countertop, casualties of Jack’s torrential cooking techniques. There was a honeyed texture to the scene, a gaussian blur, as though Danny’s brain were already transforming it into a memory. 

“Morning, Danno!” Jack called.

Danny jolted out of his reverie, details snapping back into focus like an elastic. 

“Morning, Dad,” he replied. “Morning Jazz, morning Mom.”

“Good morning sweetheart,” Maddie said, then waved a hand at the table. “Have a seat! Breakfast is almost ready. Jazz thought it might be nice to let you sleep in today, but don’t think that gets you out of helping with the dishes later.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Danny said distantly. He padded over and pulled out one of their curved blue chairs, dropping heavily into it. The grainy smell of warm homemade waffles met his noise and his stomach growled despite himself.

“Hey, Danny,” Jazz said. She didn’t add anything to this simple greeting, but from her lowered chin and analytical eyes, Danny knew that she saw his intent.

He managed a shaky smile. She regarded him for a dragging second before the rigidity in her expression faded a bit, and then turned back to the waffle maker, flipping fresh, steaming waffles onto the already towering plateful. This seemed like approval enough for Danny.

The other three Fentons bustled about the crowded kitchen for a while longer, setting places at the table, putting away ingredients, and plating sizzling bacon, which left Danny to fidget and focus on preventing his purposeful steady breathing from becoming panicked wheezing. Much like exams or driver's tests, the apprehension before sharing his identity would be worse than the actual event. This is what Danny told himself. 

Nothing to fear but fear itself, sprung into his mind. Amusement shoved past the trepidation inside him. What a time for Mr. Lancer’s determined teachings to finally strike a chord.

Eventually, all the Fentons settled down for breakfast and loaded their plates with food. Jazz poured an extravagant amount of maple syrup on her waffles, as was tradition. Jack and Maddie reached for the orange juice at the same time, their hands colliding in midair, and they shared a disgustingly loving chuckle over it. Danny filled his entire plate with a whole waffle and covered it in sugared strawberries. 

Danny and Jazz kept catching each other's eyes across the table, teal and blue snapping into a taut line between their parents, who were absorbed in a rather dull conversation about some old college buddy. Jazz seemed to be bracing herself, though she was nevertheless calm. 

Danny raised his eyebrows at her. So? 

Jazz leaned back in her chair and pressed her lips together. Danny, you’ve hidden this part of yourself for so long, if you feel ready to share it you should, and no matter what I’ll be there for you—I’m so proud of you. 

Or maybe it was: why the fuck not.

“Hey, um, guys?” Danny said, and he hoped nobody noticed that his voice inched up an octave higher than normal. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Something in his words must have betrayed their importance, because Maddie and Jack immediately cut off their reminiscent rambling and aimed the full force of their collective attentiveness at him.

“Of course, Danny,” Maddie said, searching his face. “Are you okay?”

Danny gave a jerky nod. “I’m fine. It's just there’s, uh, well…So you know, like, Spider-Man?”

Jazz, Maddie, and Jack stared at him in different flavours of bewilderment. 

Danny took too long brushing a swath of hair out of his eyes in order to hide the red bloom on his cheeks and an embarrassed grimace. He literally rehearsed this conversation last night, and in zero of the many iterations of it did he start off by mentioning Spider-Man. 

Committed now, Danny forged on.

“A radioactive spider bites Peter, right?” he continued. “And then he gets superpowers, but he doesn’t tell anyone, not his classmates and teachers, not his friends, not his aunt and uncle, no-one. He keeps it secret. Really secret. Nobody suspects him, either, he’s so good at hiding it, and he kinda likes it that way.” Danny drummed his fingers on his knee. “He’s Peter, and he’s Spider-Man, but his family doesn’t know that Peter is Spider-Man, or, uh, vice versa. Yeah?”

Maddie and Jack nodded slowly, still not following, but neither pressing Danny for an explanation. Danny nodded too, buoyed by their rapt attention. 

He swallowed. “Yeah. ‘Cause Peter is scared, maybe. And he doesn’t want them to get hurt, or for things to change…He worries that they might not…love him, the same, if they knew.” Danny cringed at his cracking voice. “That’s why he hides his identity. To protect them, kinda, but more to protect himself. And that’s how it is for a long time. And this secret, it gets bigger. Bigger and bigger, from all the horrifying shit that happens to Peter, and the things he has to do to survive, to save other people, to keep his secret. The longer he waits, the harder it is to tell his family. It feels like it would break something. Break everything.”

Danny clasped his hands together and his fingers, slick with sweat, slid uncomfortably. 

A breathless, electrified, momentous feeling had slowly swelled to fill the kitchen as he spoke, and now it pressed down upon them all. Was this how Achilles felt at Troy, Luke at the Deathstar? 

His parents were trying so hard to understand, Danny watched worry and confusion wash across their faces like ocean waves on a distant shore. Danny was rambling, he was floundering, and he had no idea what the right way to finish this stupid thing was.

“So Peter protects the city,” Danny said around his doubts, “and some people love Spider-Man, and some people hate Spider-Man, and Peter remains a normal kid—but he isn’t really. He’s different. And he doesn’t know what would happen if he told the truth, so he doesn’t. Some people figure it out on their own, and he likes that. He likes people knowing. But he, he isn’t brave enough to say the words. To say, ‘I am Spider-Man’. So…other people don’t know. ‘Cause Spider-Man is brave, but Peter isn’t. Not brave enough. Even though…even though he really, really, really fuckin’ wants to be.”

Danny cut off his tirade and gulped in a breath, gaze darting between his parents. Both of them were straining to determine what their son was talking about, faces pinched in grasping concentration.

“Danny…” Maddie said, more lost than Danny had ever seen her. “I–I don’t…”

Danny curled into himself and bunched up his hands, desperation squeezing his heart. Abruptly, he shoved backwards and jumped to his feet, his movement tracked by his alarmed family. He filled his lungs and closed his eyes tight.

“I’m sorry!” Danny shouted, reaching for the ghostly spark in his chest and calling it forth.

Bright flash and blue rings, and then there was Phantom.

Chapter Text

Seconds dragged by and Danny stayed in the same taut ready stance, his eyes closed so tight nebulae swirled behind his eyelids. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his parents. 

There wasn’t a sound, not the huff of breath nor the creak of bodies shifting in chairs, and as the artificial stillness grew, Danny fretted. Had he fucked up and not transformed at all? Was his family simply looking at him in mellow befuddlement? Did his secret remain a secret? 

No, that couldn’t be true. Danny could feel the sleek, skin-tight pressure of his HAZMAT suit and the weight of his gloves, the buzz of ghostly power in his veins. He was standing in full view of his parents as Phantom. They knew. 

Time trundled forward, bringing the transitory moment from buoyant to awkward. If Danny’s parents were waiting for an apt moment to lunge for the ghost weaponry, they could at least do him the courtesy of getting on with it. Danny’s face was beginning to hurt from cringing.

Dread stewed in his stomach. His parents’ reactions could hardly be worse than this waiting, Danny concluded. He braced himself and cracked an eye open. 

Jazz was staring at their parents, and their parents were in turn staring at Danny. Jack was hunched forward in his chair, his face creased in thought, and Danny could practically see the gears turning in his dad’s head. Pieces were coming together inside that Fenton Brain of his. Maddie appeared to be ahead of her husband, her wide, pained eyes and arched eyebrows told Danny that she understood. All of it. 

Maddie met Danny’s timid gaze, and the tense pause broke.

“Oh, Danny,” his mom said, and in one flowing motion she stood, rushed forward, and pulled Danny into a tight hug.

A jerky, stilted breath filled Danny’s lungs, and he melted into her familiar embrace. His chin tucked against her shoulder, her arms wrapped around his middle, their hearts pressed close to each other. Danny’s hands still shook, and as he curled them around Maddie her breath hitched and she drew him closer. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Maddie said, rubbing his back in slow circles. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“We should have known it was you!” Jack cried, leaping up. Danny’s heart shuddered, and he instinctively checked for weapons. But then Jack’s chipper grin pushed away the terror. “Only a Fenton could kick that much ghost butt!”

A startled, wet laugh tumbled out of Danny. Jack ran up to the pair and engulfed them both in a fervid bear hug, the orange material of his HAZMAT suit filling Danny’s field of vision. 

Mashed between his parents, their warmth and affection surrounding him, the weight of a thousand lies and a million fears loosened inside Danny and flaked to nothing. 

His parents knew that he was Phantom. 

They knew and they hugged him anyway.

“We love you, Danny,” Jack rumbled, and Danny could feel the words resonate in his dad’s chest. “We always will.”

Danny’s throat constricted, and tears swam in his eyes. He grasped his parents' suits in a fierce grip and sobbed.

Great blubbering gasps tore out of his chest, the sharp taste of salt tinged his tongue. Snot leaked from his nose and smeared Jack’s sleeve. Tears fell and plopped on Danny’s white gloved hand, splattering like paint.

Another set of arms joined the huddle, and Danny looked up long enough to watch twin teardrops slip down Jazz’s overwhelmingly-relieved face as she leaned into her family’s group hug. Danny reached out his hand and Jazz grasped it. Together they cried.

Nobody else moved a muscle until Danny released his death grip on them and eased away. Suddenly self-conscious, Danny wiped his damp face on his sleeve and smoothed the creases on his suit. Jack and Maddie stayed close, taking in the ghost hero with new awareness. 

“So,” Jack said. “Phantom, huh?”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah.”

Jack stroked his chin. “Explains a lot.”

“It does?” Danny asked perplexedly.

“Sure!” Jack waved a hand in the air. “Sneaking out at night, struggling with school, the mood swings…When you factor in the ghost stuff it all adds up. And it explains why our gadgets always target you. And how you know so much about ghosts, it's literally firsthand information. Oh, and why Phantom—er, you—is always showing up with our tech! Not to mention…” Jack eyed Danny and Danny squirmed under his scrutiny “You look exactly the same. God, Mads, how’d we miss it?”

“Jack,” Maddie said carefully. “Let’s take this slow.”

“I’m okay, Mom,” Danny reassured her. 

Maddie placed a steadying hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

Danny straightened. “I’m sure.” He transformed once again, slower this time and without shutting his eyes.

Even though they had seen this already, Maddie gave a soft gasp and Jack tensed. Danny didn’t hold it against them. He was sure it would take a great deal of getting used to. 

Danny ran a hand through his raven hair. “You guys probably have a lot of questions, huh? I’ll try to answer as much as I can. But, um, some of them might be…hard.”

Maddie and Jack shared a worried look. 

“C’mon,” Jazz said, stepping back and tapping a kitchen chair. “Maybe we should sit down for this.”

Danny nodded and joined her, settling into the chair at the head of the table. His parents took two beside each other.

“You need anything?” Jazz asked Danny.

“Uh, maybe a glass of orange juice?” Danny replied. “Please.”

Jazz headed for the fridge. Danny turned his attention to his awaiting parents.

“So. Um. I’m Phantom,” Danny began.

“You’re Phantom,” Maddie repeated, the phrase awkward lifting from her lips. “Our son Danny Fenton is—Danny Phantom.” She rubbed her temples. “Danny Phantom. Good Lord, kiddo, you’re less subtle than your dad.”

Danny chuckled sheepishly. “That’s what Sam and Tucker always say. But in my defense, only the Phantom part caught on.”

“Sam and Tucker,” Maddie said. “They know?”

“...Yeah,” Danny confirmed. “Jazz, too. But only later.”

“This is the thing you wouldn’t tell me, isn’t it?” Maddie directed this inquiry at Jazz, as Jazz set a blue glass full of OJ in front of Danny. 

“It wasn’t my secret to share,” Jazz said, crossing her arms and sitting across from their parents.

Maddie nodded slowly. “I agree.”

“Really?” Jazz said. “I mean. Good.”

“I wish you’d told us, of course,” Maddie added. “We…we missed so much, and I’m trying not to think about all the danger you two have been in…But although it pains me to say it, you were right to let Danny tell us in his own time.”

“But Danny, why did you tell Jazz and not me or your mom?” Jack asked. That was a loaded question, made more so by the hurt Jack was barely managing to force from his face.

“I didn’t,” Danny explained. “Jazz figured it out on her own.”

Jack loosened and gave Jazz a fond smile. “Of course she did. What about your friends?”

“Oh.” Danny paused. “Well, I didn’t tell Sam and Tucker either. They were actually…they were there the day I…half-died.” He winced.

His parents stilled, the full implications of Danny being Phantom slamming into them. Maddie felt for Jack’s hand and held it, squeezing hard.

“And how–” Maddie’s voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “How did you…half-die?”

Danny cupped his hands around his glass and rubbed his thumb against the stylistic grooves. “...You remember the portal accident?”

Jack nodded.

“Yes, of course,” Maddie said. “You were in the hospital for a few days, the doctors said you got—” she cut herself off and raised a hand over her mouth. “...You didn’t get lucky, did you, Danny?”

Danny shook his head. Maddie broke eye contact and cradled her head in her hand.

“What happened, Danno?” Jack asked, voice soft and hushed.

“The portal wasn’t working,” Danny said thickly. “Completely non-functional’, you said, and you gave up on it, even though I could tell you were disappointed. Sam and Tucker came over the day after you stopped trying to get it going, and we decided I should check it out. I thought maybe I could fix it…” He lowered his head. “I thought that would cheer you up. And honestly, I was curious. So I put on that HAZMAT suit you made for me—”

“The white and black one…” Jack interrupted, understanding blooming in his eyes.

“The white and black one.” Danny gestured to him. “Anyway. I went into the portal. It looked dead, like you guys said. But then I poked around a bit and saw the On/Off button, just, stuck on the wall inside.” He chuckled. “I knew right away you forgot to turn it on and that’s why nothing happened before. And…I pressed the button.”

Danny faltered, the memory of that day heavy in his mind. He took a slow breath and carried on.

“...It hurt. Like getting struck by lighting, if lightning was also acidic and radioactive. I could—I could feel myself dying. I thought I was going to. And I guess I kinda did, but for some reason, not fully. We think it might have something to do with the energy in the portal, the way it's a connection between the Ghost Zone and Earth, but we don’t know for sure. I fell out of the portal in my ghost form, and I was sure I was…dead. Really dead. Sam and Tucker thought so, too. They freaked out, and that freaked me out, and we were all just screaming at each other until I accidentally triggered my shift and became human again.” 

Danny’s eyes flitted between his anguished parents and his still-full glass of orange juice. “I was pretty messed up, electrical burns and concussion and all that, so Sam got it together enough to run and get you. And, well, you know the rest.”

Jack was uncharacteristically sober, sorrow etched on his face.

“It was our fault,” Maddie said, stony. “Our portal…killed you.”

“Only half-killed!” Danny hurried to add. An embarrassed flush coloured his ears. He wasn’t quite sure how to comfort his parents, usually it was the opposite way around. 

“Besides,” Danny prattled, “it was mostly my fault. I walked straight into a ghost portal, without disconnecting the power or checking the failsafe system. And then I turned it on. With me inside. That’s, like, a classic breach of safety protocol. And I’m fine! Mostly.”

But Danny’s clumsy attempt at reassurance was for naught, because Maddie and Jack were off in their own world.

“Jack, we…our negligence…” Maddie mumbled.

“I know, Mads, I know,” Jack said, pained. “We could have lost him.”

“And–and after he went through all that,” Maddie said, helplessness leaking into her tone, “we–we shot at him, chased him, treated him like some sort of animal. Christ, Jack, we threatened to vaporize him.”

“Yeah,” Jack murmured, and he glanced in Danny’s direction, eyes flitting away from Danny’s. “We did.”

“Um, Mom?” Danny interjected hesitantly. “Dad? I’m okay, really. The accident was years ago. And you guys didn’t know it was me you were fighting. That’s on me. I–I should’ve told you sooner, I promise I don’t blame you.”

At this, Maddie visibly pulled herself together, and lifted her hunched shoulders. “That’s up for debate, Danny. Me and your father have a lot to discuss. But—” she offered Danny a small, tired smile “—we can do that on our own time. Right now we’re talking about you. So…why don’t you tell us the whole story.”

Danny blinked. “The whole story? That’s gonna take a while.”

“We have all the time in the world, Danny,” Jack told him.

“Right,” Danny said to himself. “Okay. The whole story, then.” He held up a finger. “You can’t get mad later if I forget something though.”

“Scout’s honour.”

“I was awful at using my powers at first. I knocked over a bunch of your ghost stuff in the basement, and some of the scorch marks are from me too. And when I fought the first ghost, the Lunch Lady, I did some serious damage to the school just ‘cause I kept aiming stupidly. Sam calls it ‘collateral damage’. It still happens now sometimes. I don’t ever do it on purpose, obviously, though Action News was convinced I was for a while. It’s just hard to avoid. And when it's between breaking some city property or allowing someone to get hurt….”

“Do you ever get hurt, Danny?”

“Occasionally I guess. Never really hurt. I heal different as a ghost, and I’m more resistant to damage. Jazz patches me up if I ever get something more than a scrape.”

“I’m sure there’s something we can do to lower your risk of injury…”

“Aw, Mom, you don’t need to baby me. I’m good at this, remember?”

“None of that, young man. We’re here to help you now.”

“Can I have another waffle?”

“Yes, Danny, you can have another waffle.”

“See? That’s helpful!”

“You can walk through walls? And disappear? And fly?”

“Duh, you’ve seen Phantom do it a billion times.”

“But we didn’t know Phantom was you!”

“Vladdie’s a ghost!?”

“Yup. And a super annoying one too, Plasmius got his fair share of hits on me. And before you ask, yes, I tried the Harmonizer on him—after I bribed him with a signed Packers poster—but it didn’t do much. It only works on obsessions, not human personality traits. Vlad’s Vlad-ness is all him. He’s not trying to clone me anymore, though, which is a plus.”

“He tried to what?”

“So you and Jasmine designed the Harmonizer? I’m so proud of you two, that’s an amazing piece of engineering! How’d you figure it out?”

“Most of the ghosts I fought a lot didn’t come across as really evil to us, so that meant something else was causing their behaviour. Took us a while but eventually we figured out the whole obsession thing. We combined some of the ghost tech you and Dad already worked on with our own ideas, plus I consulted with Clockwork. He fine-tuned it so it was painless.”

“Clockwork?”

“He’s a sort of, um, ghost deity, I guess you could say. He lives in a watchtower in the Ghost Zone and keeps an eye on things. I go to him for help quite a bit, but I don’t think he minds. He controls time, basically. Or, takes care of it. I dunno the specifics. One time…one time we accidentally went forward in time and met my…evil future self. Potential future self. Clockwork is pretty sure that timelines like that one don't have a high chance of occurring at this point. But…it was bad. He lost his family, and it broke him. He…killed people. He killed himself so he would be a full ghost. He tried to combine himself with Plasmius, but it didn’t take—which is fortunate cause that is something I never want to see.”

“And he went by Dan, which, eugh.”

“Exactly, Jazz. Anyway, Clockwork saved me and trapped Dan. So…it’s probably fine.”

“I had no idea ghosts could be mind-controlled…Neat!”

“Jack.”

“Er, I mean, I’m sorry Danny, that must have been awful.”

“It wasn’t great, no. Luckily Sam is a badass and jumped off a train, which snapped me out of it. And the staff smashed into a jillion pieces, which is fortunate. Someone else controlling my emotions is not something I want to experience again. It was like sleepwalking, except I was more aware, and I wanted to do everything I did.”

“So, the bank robbing and kidnapping…?”

“Freakshow’s doing, yeah.”

“Mm.”

“I imagine you’ve overshadowed us a couple times, huh? The parent-teacher conference comes to mind...”

“...Maybe.”

“We’ll be discussing that later.”

“You have an ice core, is that right, Danny?”

“How’d you know?”

“We sorta, maybe, kinda scanned you without your consent. By accident! That’s how we discovered Phantom was a…what’d you call it…a halfa?”

“Halfa, yeah…And I remember hearing about that on TV. How do you scan someone by accident, anyway?”

“Not our finest moment, I have to admit. The Scan-O-Tron has a mind of its own.”

“Do you have any ice abilities? You must, right?”

“I can generate ice. That’s how I stopped Undergrowth.”

“The plant guy?”

“Yup. Frostbite helped me learn to control that power. Without him I’d still be a shivering mess. He lives in the Far Frozen. He’s a Yeti.”

“A Yeti! Interesting. Are there many mythical ghosts?”

“Quite a few. Frostbite and the rest of the Yetis, Pandora, Dora, the Fright Night…Probably more but I can’t remember off the top of my head.”

“The Fright Night is the Ghost King’s minion, isn’t he? Pariah Dark?”

“Been doing your own research, huh Dad?”

“I have! So how did you defeat Pariah Dark in the end, anyway?”

“Er, I kinda stole your ecto-suit…”

“Aha! That’s why it was all beat up!”

“Sorry about that.”

“Valerie seems nice.”

“She did try to blow me up more than once.”

“Besides that. She fights ghosts! And teamed up with my son! That puts her in my good books.”

“She has been fun to hang out with after we became ghost hunting partners. It's weird, though, ‘cause I’m friends with her as a human and a ghost.”

“It’s only Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Vlad who know.”

“Yeah. Well, except for Wes.”

“Who’s Wes?”

“He moved to town last year, and he figured me out right away. He’s tried to prove I’m Phantom since then.”

“Someone’s actively attempting to reveal your identity against your will?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds! Wes is a nice enough guy. Currently we’re in a ceasefire, till after this situation settles down.”

“Let me have a chat with him, I’ll set him straight.”

“Dad, no.”

“So, me and the local ghosts are on good terms. Ember is teaching me to play guitar. They all give me a hand with the aggressive ghosts who attack the city when I need it. And…that’s it,” Danny concluded, leaning back in his chair. “I think. Maybe. There is a lot.”

Unsure what to do with himself after word-barfing years of ghost lore, Danny reached for his waiting glass of orange juice and took a few long gulps. 

Jack stood and stretched out the cricks in his joints. “Hey, Danny, c’mere.”

Danny set his glass down and complied, raising an eyebrow. Jack snagged Danny’s arms and hauled him into another hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, “for everything. We hurt you, hell, more times than I can count. If I were you, I wouldn’t forgive us. I’m supposed to make you feel safe, and I failed. I promise I’ll do better. And I’m sorry for the many days I didn’t. I love you, son.” Jack released Danny, and grasped his shoulders. “And I’m crazy proud of you.”

Maddie rested a hand on Danny’s arm, and smiled at him. “What he said.”

“Thank you,” Danny said awkwardly, uncertain what to do with the praise. 

“Not to interrupt a healing moment,” Jazz said, then pointed at the clock on the microwave. “But it’s almost 5 o’clock, and we have no plan for dinner.”

Jack laughed, and a sense of normalcy, somehow, descended upon the family. “Kid after my own heart! Well, whaddaya say, Danny? I think after all that, the least we can do is let you pick what’s for dinner.”

Danny pondered briefly. “Pizza.”

“Pizza it is!” Jack proclaimed. “Veggie for Danny, pepperoni for me and Maddie, Hawaiian for Jazz, and an order of hot wings, that sound good to everybody?”

The other three offered a jaunty set of thumbs-up.

“I’m on it!” Jack turned for the phone.

“Blech.” Danny stuck his tongue out at Jazz. “Hawaiin, disgusting.”

“Could be worse,” Jazz said. “I could be boring like Mom and Dad and only eat pepperoni for fifteen years.”

“Good point,” Danny said.

“How’s it feel?” Jazz elbowed him.

Danny looked to his parents, thoughtfully discussing which pizza place to order from. Joy welled up in his heart. His parents still loved him. He always thought they would, but until now there was a dark shadowy corner of his brain that spat out images of once-caring faces twisted with rage or torturous experiments conducted in a vain attempt to make Danny human. But the evident proof before him spoke otherwise. 

Of course there were bound to be some hard times ahead, and the awkward collision between the son his parents knew and the ghost he had embraced becoming might never fully settle. Even so, the days to come looked brighter than he could have hoped.

“So good,” Danny replied.

Jazz smiled at him, and Danny smiled back.

“Oh, shit!” he blurted abruptly, digging in his pocket for his silenced phone.

“What?” Jazz asked, startled. “What’s wrong?”

“Sam and Tucker!” Danny cried. 

Thirty-eight unread texts and 9 missed calls crowded the phone screen.

Danny cringed.

Chat Group: a nerd, a goth, and a ghost walk into a bar...

4:59 PM

spider_sam: SHIT DANNY

spider_sam: FUCKING ANSWR

spider_sam: YOURE SCARING US

5:01 PM

dannymite: im okay!!!!!! i told them and it went well, not even grounded

dannymite: pls dont break down the door

spider_sam: daniel james fenton, cordially FUCK YOU

t.f: dude sam was fully about to smash a window

dannymite: sheesh

dannymite: ill talk to you guys tomorrow DON’T BREAK ANYTHING

spider_sam: sorry for wanting to save your sorry ass

dannymite: thanks sam <3

spider_sam: >:(

Chapter Text

“Danny, sweetheart, you awake?” Maddie rested a gentle hand on Danny’s blanketed shoulder.

Danny lifted his head from where it was nestled between his curled arms, the cushions shifting and couch dipping as he did. They must have left him there for the night when he dozed off watching Mystery Science Theatre 3000—all he recalled from the movie was something about giant robots and…bull butter? His hair was mussed from sleep, sticking out every which way, and he brushed it out of his face to survey the living room. 

Jazz was watching the news in the loveseat tucked near the end of the couch, cupping a steaming mug of tea. Her pajama shirt sleeves were pulled down over her hands so she didn’t burn herself on the hot porcelain. Morning light warmed Danny’s chest and face. 

“Yeah,” Danny said, the response leaking into a yawn.

Maddie squeezed his shoulder and smiled fondly at him. “No rush, but there’s something we need to talk about. Your dad and I will get some breakfast going for you and Jazz. Want anything on your toast?”

“Strawberry jam, please.” Danny pulled the woven purple blanket back up to his nose.

He wasn’t quite ready to face the day yet. He wanted to savour this, the feeling of a lazy Sunday morning without fear of revealing something to his family, or the ache of loneliness in his bones. 

“Sure,” Maddie said, and ambled toward the kitchen. Danny was surprised to find his mom wasn’t wearing her HAZMAT suit. Instead, she sported wide-bottom blue jeans and a navy zip-up sweater. Usually she only switched to normal clothes for special occasions—both her and Jack claimed the suits were safer and more practical for their ghost studies. 

Eyes sinking closed once again, Danny brought his knees up to his chest and released a long, contented breath. The couch was cozy. The sunlight was golden. He felt blessedly safe. For now, that was more than enough. 

After another few minutes, though, the patient poke of reality surfaced Danny enough to pull him out of the hazy, half-asleep state he was enjoying. Stretching and yawning wide, he eased himself up and leaned against the corner of the couch, pulling the blanket with him.

On the TV, Lance and Tiffany were giving an animated recap of the “hottest Phantom news”, which was to say, nothing much.

Jazz noticed Danny watching. “Don’t worry, they haven’t got anything good. It’s mostly a rehashing of the stuff Mom and Dad said, plus a couple obviously fake photos.”

“I can tell.” Danny wrinkled his nose as the program cut to an unedited video of Dash ranting about his personal theories, all even more unsubstantiated than the conspiracy theory that the moon landing was faked. Which was saying something.

“Breakfast!” Jack hollered from the doorway.

Danny and Jazz got to their feet, Jazz pausing to shut off the TV. They followed the scent of smoldering bread to the kitchen.

“Sorry, I burnt the toast a little,” Jack said. 

“It’s fine,” Jazz said, though as she bit into her slice she took care to nibble around the blackened parts.

Danny cut into his eggs, sunny side up and the perfect amount of runny, and stuffed a too-big bite into his mouth. "Wot're w’ g’nna do ‘bout ev’ryone knowin’?”

“Danny, chew your food first,” Maddie scolded mildly.

Danny swallowed. “What are we gonna do about everyone knowing, y’know, that Phantom is half-human?”

Maddie and Jack exchanged a glance.

“That’s actually what we wanted to talk about,” Maddie said. “We have a couple ideas, you just tell us what you’d prefer.”

“I get to choose?” Danny asked in surprise.

“Of course you do,” Maddie said. 

Danny nodded thoughtfully. 

“So,” Jack said, “here’s what we got. First option: you tell everyone you’re Phantom.” Danny flinched, and Jack wrapped an arm around him. “I know, kiddo, I don’t like it much either. Feels risky, and it’s unnecessary. Let’s call that Plan Z, huh? Okay. Second option: we ask one of your ghost friends to tell Action News that me and your mom got it wrong, and Phantom isn’t half-human. Third option: we invent a fictional human Phantom, throw ‘em off the scent. Fourth option: we do nothing, and wait for everyone to move on to something else. Probably wouldn’t take long. There’s a Lance Thunder scandal every other week! Anyway, Danno, whatcha think? Got any more ideas?”

“Hm,” Danny hummed, thumbing his chin. “I dunno, Dad, I don’t want to lie if I don’t have to. But I don’t think it's a good plan to ignore the problem and hope it goes away, either.” That’s what I did hiding from you for so long, he left unspoken.

“You might not have to…” Jazz said, taking a contemplative bite of egg. 

“What do you mean?” Danny asked.

“What if…” Jazz drummed her fingers on the table. “What if Mom and Dad went back on Action News, and said that they figured out who Phantom is?”

“Um, Jazz,” Danny interrupted, “that kinda feels like Plan Z to me.”

“Let me finish,” Jazz said, waving a hand at him. “They say they found Phantom, and that he’s alright and in a safe home environment and everything, but that in order to respect his privacy—which he has a right to under both standard law and the Ghost Protection Act—they won’t disclose his identity.” She fired a resolute smile at Danny. “That’ll set people’s minds at ease, and prevent them from trying to find you anymore. Amity Park will be forced through moral, social, and lawful pressure to drop the issue.”

“Jasmine,” Maddie said, “you’re onto something here.”

Danny nodded rapidly in agreement. “Yup, yup, that’s the one. I don’t have to trick anybody, nobody else learns that I’m Phantom, and everybody leaves me alone? Jazz, you’re a genius.”

“I know.” Jazz smirked. 

“Don’t make me take it back,” Danny warned, flashing her a wry look.

“Alright.” Maddie clasped her fingers together and nodded to herself. “We have a plan. A good plan. I’ll email Action News this afternoon, they should be able to sneak us in tomorrow.”

“Who are you kidding, Mom?” Danny said, rolling his eyes. “They love you over there. They’ll probably clear the whole segment for you two.”

Maddie chuckled sheepishly. “I suppose we do make for good news.”

Danny’s phone buzzed. He flipped it over and revealed two messages from the group chat. “It's Sam and Tucker,” he explained, typing out a quick answer, “they’re asking if I’m okay.”

“What for?” Jack asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not really,” Danny said cautiously. “Just, they were worried something might happen when I told you. About how I’m Phantom.”

“You and your friends thought we’d hurt you?” Maddie translated, hurt plain in her eyes. 

“No!” Danny blurted, then sighed and looked to his parents. “...A little, maybe, I guess. With all the ‘we hate ghosts, all ghosts are evil’ shit can you blame us?” He could feel his hackles rising, but he forced himself to relinquish his defensiveness. “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t do anything serious. But it was scary, you chasing me, guns ablazing. That’s a hard thing to get over. It sticks in your head.”

Maddie leaned towards Danny and her hand hovered in the air for a moment, before she gathered her resolve and cupped his face in her palm.

“Danny.” She looked him in the eye, and his frustration wilted under her vehement intensity. “I would never, ever do anything to intentionally cause you harm. Neither would your father. I’m sorry we ever put that into question. Okay?”

“Okay.” Danny agreed softly, soaking up the promise.

“Now,” Maddie said, and the determined set in her jaw returned. “Let’s write a press release.”

Everything was organized for Monday. One week from the original broadcast that set the domino of events into motion, a follow-up once again featuring Maddie and Jack would air. Action News, as Danny had predicted, jumped on the opportunity to have the Fentons on their show again, even though they didn’t yet know what the pair intended to talk about. Apparently, they were even rushing to book the public park so people could come in person. The script was written, the clothes picked out, and the time finalized.

And now Danny was losing at Catan: Starfarers. 

You’d think he’d kick ass at it, considering it was the space version of a game he used to win often as a kid. Alas, it seemed he was rusty. His ship was woefully unexpanded, he had a hand stocked with carbon and nothing else, and he had yet to befriend a single alien. Luckily, Jazz appeared to be in a similar boat, and her pinched brow confirmed she wasn’t rocketing into the lead anytime soon. Their parents, however, were far ahead of their children. 

That was the problem with playing games with Jack and Maddie. They were unrelenting against any other players, but had a soft spot for each other. Danny had tried trading with them multiple times—for something other than carbon, anything other than carbon—but since they happily traded with each other, neither of them ever needed anything. And Jazz didn’t want carbon. And now one their parents was going to blow them out of the water. 

Sure enough, Jack’s face soon lit up with the glow of smug victory. “Aha!” He slotted a set of resource cards into the bank, and transformed a colony into a spaceport. “That’s 15 Victory Points! I win!” He pumped a fist in the air.

“Good game, Jack,” Maddie said. 

“This is your fault for not trading my carbon,” Danny said to Jazz. “I hope you’re happy.”

Jazz grinned. “I hope you’re happy now,” she sang.

“I hope you’re happy in the eeeeeend,” they crooned together, arms held aloft for dramatic effect. 

“Alright,” Maddie said, “thanks for the game, kids. I’ll get started on dinner. Jack, would you do the roast potatoes?”

“Lemme clean up the game first,” Jack said, “and then I’ll get right on it.”

“We got this, Dad,” Jazz said.

“Thanks, Jazzarina!” Jack took off. Jazz and Danny shared a bemused look—their dad hated putting away board games, the little pieces and carefully fitted slots did not jive with his large hands and boisterous attitude, and he was convinced nobody could tell.

Jazz set to work on collecting the little coloured pieces, sweeping them into the plastic bags. Danny began disassembling the mother ships. 

“Danny, have you talked to Tucker and Sam much?” Jazz asked.

“Not really, no. I haven’t had time.” Danny pulled off a booster.

“I can do this on my own,” Jazz said.

Danny eyed her. “You sure?”

“Go on!” Jazz shooed.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Danny pushed away from the table and scurried to his room.

Chat Group: a nerd, a goth, and a ghost walk into a bar…

5:14 PM

dannymite: hey yall :)

t.f: danny! give us the scoop

spider_sam: does your family have a plan?

dannymite: yup

dannymite: mom and dad r gonna go on tv again

spider_sam: wtf thats what caused this whole thing in the first place

t.f: a+ plan no notes

dannymite: yeesh there’s obv more to it guys

t.f: faith restored

dannymite: the sarcasm is unnecessary

Chapter Text

The grassy field that made up a substantial portion of the Amity Park Public Park was packed full of bustling people, of all ages and walks of life, gathered together to witness the Fentons’ second Phantom announcement. 

The crowd bubbled with anticipation, the steady roar of conversation livening the air. A film crew hefting bulky cameras and towering boom mics was assembled at the base of a raised platform that the populace was quite sure had not been there the night before. It featured a banner adorned with the Action News logo and even more mics. 

Tiffany and Lance were hovering at the center of the proceedings, micromanaging the set-up and waiting with evident impatience for the cue to start their intro. 

Lingering at the edge of the throng, Danny shuffled back and forth as he tried to stand in a position that prevented his short stature and the array of people in front of him from obscuring his view of the stage. Tucker and Sam stood beside him. They did not share Danny’s sight issue; Tucker was tall enough to see over most people if he stood on tip-toes and Sam had had the foresight to break out her extra tall platform boots. 

Lancer had hustled their class to the event after Action News offered a discount for students—the teacher was quite excited about the opportunity to get them involved in local goings-on, and the students were giddy at the chance to skip school—but Danny, Sam, and Tucker snuck off from the group. There was no way Lancer would notice a few missing stragglers, he had his hands full. High schoolers could be a rowdy bunch.

“I can’t believe Action News took over the park for your parents,” Sam commented, “they even got a stage set up and everything.”

“You really shouldn’t be surprised. The HAZMAT suits alone demand attention,” Danny said, then huffed and slumped, consigning himself to a viewless fate.

Tucker giggled. “Aw, Danny, want me to put you on my shoulders?”

"Fuck you,” Danny retorted mildly. 

“You nervous?” Sam asked. “You’re pale as a ghost.”

“Haha.” Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Mom and Dad got this. No way to fuck up reading off a script, right?”

“What did we say about tempting fate?” Sam said.

“Not to do it?” Danny replied.

“Correct.” Sam slapped Danny on the back, and he wheezed.

One of the Action News techs tapped a mic and a burst of static crackled through the park.

“Excuse me,” she said into it, and the park quieted. “Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming. We’re about to go live, so avoid talking or unnecessary movement for the length of the broadcast. Thank you. Okay, Ms. Snow and Mr. Thunder, live in three…” She held up three fingers, then two, then one, then gestured at the reporters to begin.

“Good morning, Amity Park!” Lance grinned into the camera. “I’m Lance Thunder.”

“And I’m Tiffany Snow!”

“And you’re watching another very special episode of Action News: bringing you all the hottest Amity Park news.”

“As you can see, we’re here at the Amity Park Public Park—” Tiffany swooped a hand around to indicate the park “—for a second, exclusive live segment with the very same ecto-scientists who brought you the shocking Half-Human Phantom news last week. Please welcome Madeline and Jack Fenton!”

From behind a curtain at the back of the platform appeared Maddie and Jack. 

“Nice to have you back!” Lance said.

“We’ve got a live audience here today as well,” Tiffany said, “say hi, audience!”

The crowd glanced at each other—the tech had very clearly instructed them to stay silent. No-one so much as uttered a peep.

Tiffany gave an awkward tittering laugh. “Well, aren’t we a shy bunch? Anyway…I’ve been told that the Doctors Fenton have prepared a statement to share with us, so take it away!”

“Thank you, Tiffany,” Maddie said. She lifted up her printed script and Jack followed suit. He cleared his throat, scanned the page, and lifted his head to address the crowd.

“Good morning, everyone,” he read. “Thanks for showing up or tuning in to listen to me and Maddie, we have some new information about Phantom that we’re sure you want to hear.” He nodded at Maddie.

“We know Phantom’s human identity,” Maddie recited.

The park erupted into furious mutterings, until the tech from earlier fixed everyone with a furious glare and raised a stalk-straight finger to her lips. Silence returned, although now it was pressurized.

“Nobody needs to worry,” Jack picked up, “he’s in no danger, and his home situation is stable. We’ve spoken with him.”

“However,” Maddie said slowly, “in order to protect Phantom’s privacy, we will not be disclosing his name.”

Despite threatening waving from the tech, this time the crowd would not be hushed, and frustrated grumbling and a scattering of shouts spread through it. Danny picked out Wes’ vexed spluttering amongst the rest.

“Anyone who attempts to determine Phantom’s identity and/or disclose it to the public,” Maddie announced over the clamor, “will be breaking the privacy laws of the United States of America as well as the Ghost Protection Act—Claus 4, if anyone feels inclined to look it up. Phantom has stated very clearly that he does not wish his identity to be known at this time. All we ask of you is to respect this choice.”

Jack was grimacing at the backlash, but he nevertheless drew himself up to deliver the final portion. “If any of you have any questions, you can contact us at Fenon Works. Thank you for your time.” 

With that, the pair pulled away from the podium and walked off the stage.

Tiffany stared at them in stunned silence, then turned back to the crowd. “Er. Well. There you have it folks, Phantom is safe and sound, but his human identity remains a mystery, and probably will for the foreseeable future…” She looked to Lance, who shrugged. “Um. That’s all for now, drive safe!” She directed a rapid “cut” motion at the camera crew, who scrambled to shut off the live feed. Her and Lance sagged in relief as the green light blinked off.

“You—you can’t just do that!” Paulina’s voice cried from somewhere in the crowd. “I wanna know!”

“Phantom’s just a kid, if he wants to remain anonymous I say we let him!” defended a woman Danny didn’t recognize.

“But I paid $20 to be here!” one of Casper’s substitute teachers whined.

An obnoxious honk split the air, and the Fenton GAV trundled out from behind the stage where it had been parked. It inched forward with an air of stoic determination. Grumpily, the crowd parted to allow the GAV through. Not even the most riled up of them dared risk standing in the path of Jack’s questionable driving techniques. 

The communal affronted attitude stretched thin and faded, and the crowd dissolved into disgruntled individuals, trudging for their respective homes and trailing their muttered opinions behind them.

“Oof,” Sam said. 

“That went pretty well!” Danny said.

Tucker looked at him in disbelief. “Did we witness the same thing?”

“Nobody even threw any tomatoes,” Danny pointed out. 

“This isn’t the Middle Ages!” Sam squawked.

“There’s still time,” Tucker added, deadpan.

“Aw, c’mon, guys,” Danny said brightly, “I think things are finally looking up.”

“Okay, class,” Lancer said, handing out graded homework, “I know the Fenton thing has got you all worked up, and I’m happy to facilitate a discussion at the end of class, but for the time being let’s focus on our work. Final examinations begin next Tuesday and the week will go by faster than you think. Eye on the prize.”

Dash and Paulina locked each other in twin glares, though they kept the simmering feud to a soundless battle of stubbornness. 

Something was going on with them, and Danny couldn’t pinpoint what. It was clear to him that they had gotten into a heated argument earlier that day. He could only assume it had to do with his parents' speech. What, exactly, he hadn’t a clue.

The majority of class time was spent going over the final written piece for the semester, the famous poem “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” of Shakespeare’s. Danny found that he was able to follow and appreciate the lesson for the first time in a week. That was good news for his grades. He even managed to bring up some decent points about the symbolism and use of metaphor.

10 minutes before the end of class, Star raised her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Smith?” Lancer said.

Star lowered her hand. “Can we talk about Phantom now?”

Lancer checked the time on the analog clock affixed to the wall. “I suppose this is a decent point to pause our lesson. Very well, put away your books and we’ll begin.”

The controlled ruckus of textbooks sliding off desks and into backpacks hastened by even faster than usual.

“Alright, kids,” Lancer said, and steepled his fingers. “What do we think of this latest development?”

“I think it's bullshit!” Paulina cried.

Dash bristled. “Paulina—”

“Mr. Baxter, please let Ms. Sanchez finish her thought,” Lancer interrupted. “And Ms. Sanchez, please keep the foul language to a minimum.”

Dash huffed and crossed his arms.

“Sorry. But it’s just not fair,” Paulina continued. “How come the Fentons get to know Phantom but the rest of us don’t? I bet they’re keeping him secret just to rub it in our faces. And what about Danny?” She turned on him.

Danny jolted. “Huh?”

“Do you know who Phantom is?” Paulina said accusingly.

“What?” Danny spluttered. “No, of course not! My parents aren’t supposed to tell anybody, me included! It’s the law, remember?”

“Hold on now,” Lancer said, “how about we hear what Mr. Baxter has to say.”

“Paulina’s totally out of line, Mr. Lancer,” Dash bit out, “if Phantom doesn’t want us to know, that’s that. It’s up to him.”

“But the Fentons don’t deserve to know any more than we do!” Paulina retorted.

“It’s not about that!” Dash growled. “It’s not about any of us! Phantom shouldn’t have to tell anyone he doesn’t want to!”

Paulina’s building argument died before she could open her mouth, and she simply stared in unsure silence at Dash. 

Danny did the same. He was stupified. 

Where had that come from? He knew Dash was a Phantom fan, but Danny would absolutely have pegged him as one of the assholes who would push and push until someone spilled the beans. 

Danny snuck a shared glance with Tucker and Sam, who appeared equally mystified. 

“I believe I understand what both of you are saying,” Lancer said placatingly, then looked at Paulina. “You’re frustrated at the lack of honesty from the Fentons, and you feel it isn’t their place to withhold information.” Paulina nodded, and Lancer turned to Dash. “And you believe that the Fentons' involvement isn’t relevant at all, that it is Phantom’s choice when and with whom he shares this part of himself, and we should leave it at that.” 

“Yeah,” Dash said.

“Okay.” Lancer stroked his chin. “These are good points you’ve constructed, people. It’s certainly a complicated issue. Things like this make us ask hard questions, like where does one person’s rights end and another’s begin? What does it mean to respect someone’s rights, and where do law and morality overlap? And in this specific situation, how does the factor of Phantom being half-ghost affect everything? But I think the answer is somewhere between your two points of view.” 

He gestured to Paulina and Dash. 

“Perhaps the Fentons don’t have any sort of special right to this piece of information, but is that important when Phantom is the ultimate decider of who holds it? There’s always nuance to be found, as we’ve seen in our writing assignments often this semester. I would invite you to try explaining your ideas to each other, and seeing what new ones may come of the combination.”

The bell rang, cutting the conversation short.

“Good thoughts today, everyone,” Lancer said, “don’t forget to drop off your homework at my desk as you leave. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Students bustled through the door and spilled out into the hallway. Sam turned for their lockers and Tucker moved to follow. Danny grasped Tucker’s sleeve and brought him to a halt.

“Wait a sec,” Danny said to him and Sam. Scanning the bustling student body, Danny darted forward as he caught sight of Dash’s red jacket. “Hey, Dash.”

Dash stopped. “What, Danny,” he grunted. He grimaced at the sharp edge in his voice, and made an intentional effort to loosen his peaked shoulders. “Sorry. I’m mad at Paulina is all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny said. “I just wanted to say—I think Phantom would have appreciated what you said, in class. If he’d heard.”

“Oh.” Dash adopted a quizzically pleased expression. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Danny said awkwardly. “I’ll, uh, see you later.” He raised a hand in farewell and dipped back into the meandering river of students.

“See ya,” Dash called after him. 

Sam and Tucker popped up beside Danny.

“You’re a sweet guy sometimes,” Tucker told him.

“Don’t rub it in,” Danny replied.

If someone had told Danny one day he would thank Dash, his foremost bully, and sincerely mean it, and get a friendly response out of Dash, he would have laughed in their face. 

How the circumstances change. 

Chapter Text

Danny applied the final letter of the final word to the final question of his English exam with a flourish.

Thanks to his parents allowing him a break in his typical familial obligations, Sam and Tucker’s dedication to their study buddy roles, Lancer’s immediate and enthusiastic willingness to assist Danny with catching up and filling in any gaps in his knowledge, and Danny’s own late night study sessions fueled by espresso shots à la Jazz, Danny had managed to properly prepare for final exam season. The week of focus was at last culminating in the five page essay exam before him brimming with succinct and intellectual answers that Danny was proud to attach his name to. Nevermind how it took him up to the last minute to complete it and the room was nearly empty.

There were still three more days worth of exams to survive, but as Danny plopped the completed booklet on Lancer’s desk and received a proud nod from his teacher in return, he felt secure in the assumption that he would pass them — possibly even with flying colours.

Free for the day, Danny hustled to his locker to pick up his backpack. One of the overhead lights flickered sickly, leaving a stretch of hallway a no-man’s land that students and faculty alike avoided to spare their eyes the strain. Danny peered through scrunched eyelids as he passed under it and was then swallowed in the lively end-of-day swamp of students. Groups of assorted size and clique hung out around the stretch of lockers. 

To Danny’s chagrin the Phantom ruckus had yet to fully die down in Casper. Bubbles of conversation surrounding his potential human identities, though more subtle, were alive and well. Luckily, no-one was invested enough to risk unlawfully combing the city for him, so though the atmosphere of curiosity lingered, it was in the form of standard high school gossip. 

However, it was nevertheless decided that Danny be extra careful in the following months, just to be safe. That meant no snide comments that hinted at his alter-ego, no risky missions unless he had back-up, and no flashing green irises at people who annoyed him. Danny felt a bit targeted by the last one. When had Tucker even noticed he did that? Stalker behaviour.

Danny twisted his head to listen in on an absurd claim that Phantom didn’t have a human half, not because he was simply a full ghost, but because he was in fact a government hologram. Trying to push down the laughter threatening to spill out of him, he swung back around and ran straight into Wes. Danny yiped. He dug his heels in and came to a clumsy halt, his momentum swinging him far enough forward that he could see the golden flecks in Wes’ green eyes. 

“Wes!” Danny said, taking a quick step backward to a less uncomfortable distance.

“Fenton.” Wes was nonplussed by Danny’s bumbling. “I suppose I owe you congratulations.”

“What for?” Danny asked.

“You managed to get out of this mess without anyone the wiser,” Wes explained, arching an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Irritated, but impressed.”

Danny shot him a lopsided smirk. “I heard you freaking out at the park, dude. Irritated is putting it mildly. I had no idea you had such a broad arsenal of swear words.”

Wes coloured. “Yes, well…Being foiled yet again by a fool in a jumpsuit is enough to drive anyone crazy.”

Danny snorted.

“Regardless,” Wes grumbled. “Your parents didn’t do anything to you?”

Danny shook his head. “Nope. The only thing I’m at risk of is death by coddling.”

“Good,” Wes said. “Then the ceasefire is officially concluded. And I will find sufficient evidence to unmask you. Fair and square.”

“Duly noted,” Danny said. 

Wes hesitated, as if engaging in an argument between himself. “And Danny? I’m…glad you’re okay.” He hefted his backpack and marched past Danny.

“So am I,” Danny agreed. Oddly enough, Wes saying his name was beginning to seem practically normal.

“Don’t think this means we’re friends!” Wes shouted briskly over his shoulder.

“Obviously not!” Danny returned.

He continued in the direction of his locker and his friends, a smile playing on his lips.

“Ah! Fuck!” Danny tumbled in a freefall for the ground, his suit fizzling where the blast had struck him. He gritted his teeth and tried to summon enough power to slow his descent, but he was weakened from the attack, and he slammed hard into the neatly manicured front lawn of one of the neighborhood’s houses. 

Coughing, Danny pressed his hands to his aching chest and groaned. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

The feral blob ghost shrieked at Danny, a shrill sound that rattled his bones, and dove in his direction. Danny yelped and scrambled away. The thing was unnaturally large, and the variety of green tints swirling inside it suggested that it had devoured other smaller ghosts to expand itself. 

As the blob ghost hurtled towards Danny, speed increasing to a haphazard level, its red eyes widened and it made an obvious attempt to abort. Unfortunately, this attempt came too late and it collided with the ground in a shower of neon ectoplasm that splattered everywhere in dripping clumps. Centered amongst the debris was the now significantly reduced blob ghost. 

Stunned as it was, it put up little fuss when Danny stumbled to his feet and sucked it into the Thermos.

“Ugh.” Danny shuddered, taking in the soggy green disaster. “Stupid blob ghost. Y’know, I was planning on studying tonight, like the excellent student that I am. Now I hafta clean up this mess.”

“‘Scuse me?” said a voice behind Danny. “Phantom?”

Danny lifted his weary head and looked to the speaker, a little boy maybe ten years old who had long dreadlocks and chunky glasses. He was peeking out from behind the door to the house. Evidently, he knew enough about ghost attacks to wait until the battle was over before venturing out.

“Yeah?” Danny said cautiously.

“Um. Me an’ Tess can help ya clean up.” The boy pointed to the girl at his side, a little younger than him.

Danny took a moment to load this offer. “...Really?”

“Yeah!” The boy beamed. “No prob!”

“What’s your name?” Danny asked.

“Tyrone!”

“Nice to meet you, Tyrone and Tess,” Danny said, “and I’d love some help. You guys got a hose around?”

Tess scampered off and soon returned hauling a green garden hose behind her. “I’ll turn it on, one sec!” she cried, bounding up the porch and twisting the knob. Water flowed from the end of the hose. Danny picked it up, wincing at the stab of pain in his side, and aimed it at the largest blob of ectoplasm. 

“What can I do?” Tyrone asked, tugging at Danny’s sleeve.

“Oh.” Danny considered this. “How about you take this?” He passed Tyrone the hose. “Get all the green stuff into a big pile and I’ll collect it in my Thermos.” 

Tyrone accepted his task enthusiastically, sticking his fingers in front of the hose nozzle to increase the pressure and directing the spray at the ectoplasm, pushing it together chunk after chunk. Danny grinned as the boy’s face scrunched up in extreme focus. 

Without the spark of a ghost to animate it, normal ectoplasm was inert and harmless, but it was a pain in the ass to clean up. It had the texture of gel and the stickiness of tree sap. And to make things worse, since the Thermos worked by locking onto a ghost's voltaic signature, loose ectoplasm had to be manually loaded. Read: grabbed in slippery gobs and dumped inside. 

Danny grimaced, kneeled, and scooped up his first squishy handful. Tess joined him, giggling when the ectoplasm jiggled in her hands.

Bit by bit, Danny and his two helpers turned the lawn from sludge-covered disaster to the picture of tidiness.  Danny was careful to remind them often not to flush the ectoplasm down the storm drain. He had learned from his dad’s mistakes on that one—a sewage pipe clogged with ectoplasm was a memorable experience for all the wrong reasons. 

Three people at the job made it go by fast, and soon enough there remained nothing more than a single clump of ectoplasm stuck to the fence. Danny was stooping to yank it off when the rumble of a car engine drew his attention. A green van slowed to a stop in the driveway, and a man and woman in casual work clothes got out. 

“Mom! Dad!” Tess cheered, running up to them. 

The man, presumably Tess’ and Tyrone’s dad, scooped her up. “Kids!”

“Were you good for your brother, Tess?” the mom asked, pulling Tyrone towards her.

Danny stuffed the final bit of ectoplasm into the Thermos and stood as inconspicuously as he could. His presence felt awkward now, like he was intruding. It would probably be best if he just quietly slipped away. 

“There was a ghost!” Tess declared.

“A ghost?” The dad said, concerned.

“Yeah,” Tyrone said, “but s’okay, Phantom got it.”

“It made a biiiiiiig mess.” Tess stretched her arms out for emphasis. “And we helped him get the green outta everythin’!”

“He’s over there! Hey, Phantom!” Tyone called, and Danny froze mid-retreat as the boy’s finger pointed in his direction. The mom and dad at last noticed Danny, their eyes widening at the clear evidence as to the truth of their children’s claims. Danny straightened out of the sneaking-away-slouch he had sunk into and sent them a nervous wave.

The mom took Tyrone’s hand and the group approached Danny.

“Uh,” Danny said, “hi.”

“You protected the kids from a ghost?” the mom asked.

“Yeah.” Danny swung his hands behind his back. “I mean, it's no biggie. It’s what I do.” 

“You don’t have to, though,” the dad said, and the softness in his expression surprised Danny. “You’re just a kid, too. But you did anyway.”

“Thank you.” The mom reached for Danny’s hand and clasped it between her own. 

Danny stared dumbly at her for a moment, then shook himself. “Oh, um. You’re welcome. Sorry, I gotta get home, but thanks for your help again, guys.” He looked to Tyrone and Tess and smiled at them. Stepping back, Danny crouched to take off.

“Wait!” Tyrone shouted, and Danny floated an inch off the ground and waited. “Hold on, I got somethin’ for ya.” The boy wrestled himself out his mom’s grip and dashed into the house.

Danny hovered in place and tried not to embarrass himself anymore than he already had. A minute later the front door slammed shut and Tyrone bounded up to Danny, cupping something delicately in his hands.

“Is that your model?” The dad asked with a knowing smile.

“Shh!” Tyone shushed. “Phantom? This is for you.” He opened his hands.

Presented upon Tyrone’s small fingers was a hand-painted wooden replica of Danny, complete with his “D” symbol, chunky boots, and a mini Thermos clasped in one of its hands. It wasn’t immaculate, far from it—there were plenty of smudges and the face bore little to no resemblance to Danny himself. But to him it was perfect. 

Reverently, Danny accepted the gift.

“He’s a big fan,” the mom explained. “He’s got a scrapbook full of pictures and notes on you, and he makes sure we have the TV on the Action News channel whenever they’re scheduled to do a Phantom segment.”

“Th’ Harmonizer is really cool,” Tyrone piped up, suddenly shy. “And I like your suit. I wanna be a superhero jus’ like you when I’m grown up.”

“Maybe not quite just like me,” Danny pointed out, breaking into a wry chuckle. He cringed and his eyes darted to the parents, certain they would disapprove of the morbid joke. Quite the opposite, the pair were smiling softly at Danny, seeming delighted by the interaction. 

“Thank you, Tyrone,” Danny said, infusing into the words as much earnestness and appreciation as he could. “I love it.”

Tyrone beamed. “You’re welcome, Phantom.”

“I’ll see y’all around,” Danny said, clutching the figurine close to his chest.

“Bye, Phantom!” Tyrone said.

“Bye!” Tess wiggled her fingers at Danny.

Danny nodded to the parents, who smiled at him, and then he arched upwards and over the city. He kept his hands wrapped protectively around the little figurine all the way home.

Danny was curled up in bed, absorbed in a space documentary and marvelling over the cosmic coincidence of the Goldilocks Zone, when his phone blared a news alert about a potentially catastrophic gas leak in one of Amity Park’s smaller skyscrapers. 

Despite his parents' stern instruction to at the very least inform them before he dashed into danger, Danny immediately transformed and phased through the wall in a straight shot for the incident. 

The wind whistled loud in his ears as he streaked through wisps of cloud. The skyscraper mentioned in the news rose up before Danny, as of yet undamaged. Just as he began to allow himself to hope that he’d get there before everything went to shit, a fiery orange explosion bloomed at the base of the building and rocked the street. 

The shuddering boom reached Danny a split second later, tearing into his ears like gnashing jaws, and he quickly covered them. He gritted his teeth and flew faster. As he got closer, Danny could see the underground level of the building had been blown out, leaving only a few shaky pillars holding it aloft. 

Danny lurched to a stop and hesitated in the air above the chaos. Here he was, staring down a real life emergency situation. First responders swarmed the site, yelling commands to each other and directing dirt-sprayed citizens away from the dangerously teetering office building, carting a few unlucky ones on stretchers and loading them into ambulances. 

There were two fire trucks already hooked up to fire hydrants and another wailing down the street — the firefighters were either aiming high-pressure hoses at the flames or helping people out of the wreckage. 

Uncertainty clawed at Danny’s chest as he watched a young woman crumple in the arms of a firefighter, blood gushing from a deep wound on her forehead. 

Usually, Danny dealt with ghosts. Ghosts he could handle. This…this was something different. This couldn’t be solved by shouting a couple insults and blasting ecto-rays. What did you even do in the face of something so horrible?

Danny squeezed his hands into fists. He could help. Gathering his courage, he descended. 

Up close the scene was even more overwhelming. All the civilians around him were scared and confused, the emergency crew wrapped up in their own determined missions. The smell of burning plastic assaulted Danny’s nose and flakes of ash landed in his hair. There was a haze of smoke that obstructed any clear view of the area, and the phlegmy coughs of the humans around him made Danny guiltily glad he didn’t require oxygen.

“Excuse me!” Danny swooped in front of an EMT who was wrapping a stunned man’s injured hand in gauze. “What can I do?”

The EMT allowed herself a moment of shock at the sudden appearance of Phantom, and then quickly got down to business. “We were able to evacuate most of the building,” she shouted over the din, “but there are still people trapped on the upper floors! We can’t reach them!”

Danny nodded, and soared dutifully up to the fourth floor. He poked his incorporeal head through the wall. Structurally the space was for the most part intact — the majority of the damage from the explosion was localized to the first floor and basement — but the once-neat desks were in shambles and the fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered and sparked. Probably this was a result of the shockwave.

“Hello?” Danny shouted, and his voice echoed through the workspace. “Anyone here?” 

There was no answer. That made sense. He counted eight floors total, and the ones closer to the bottom would have cleared out first. 

Just to be sure, Danny darted inside and scanned for anyone who may be trapped or knocked out, and when he found no-one he phased through the ceiling up to the fifth floor. Again he called out and searched, and again he didn’t see a soul. 

Entering the sixth floor, though, Danny came face-to-face with a huddled group of survivors. There were nine of them, three young adults and six middle-aged ones, and one of the older men was pinned underneath a fallen support beam, which had also happened to tumble in front of the exit, sealing the group inside. They startled at Danny’s sudden arrival, wide eyes locking on him. They were haggard, covered in dust and hair unkempt, and frightened.

“I’m here to help you,” Danny stated, floating closer. “Are you okay?

“...Dave’s stuck,” said a woman in her early 50s, “and Teresa’s hurt.”

“Step back,” Danny ordered, then added, “please.” 

Dutifully, the other eight inched away. Danny grabbed the beam on top of Dave and went intangible, dropping through the floor. He solidified again and gently laid it flat, careful not to jar the already unsteady building any further, then returned to the floor above.

“I can take two of you at a time,” Danny explained to the group, “so Dave, Teresa, I’ll take you first since you’re hurt. Can you move?” He directed this question at Dave. 

Dave nodded, and slowly got to his feet, wincing and gripping at his thigh where the beam had landed. A growing splotch of red soaked his grey plaited pants.

“I’m not too poorly off,” Dave said in a light Texas accent, “jus’ a little banged up.”

Danny hurried to the man’s side and hooked an arm around him. He wasn't sure what you were supposed to say when someone who was clearly pretty damn injured pretended they weren’t, so he forced a smile and tried, “I’m not qualified to say, better let the experts take a look.” 

This seemed to appease Dave, who allowed Danny to take some of his weight. A young woman stepped carefully toward Danny. She held one of her arms close to her. A long, nasty scrape scissored down the brown skin. This was, presumably, Teresa.

“Okay,” Danny said, and held out his free hand to Teresa. “Take my hand.”

Teresa hesitated only a brief second before clasping it.

“I’ll be back soon,” Danny promised, taking care to look the others in the eye. He spread his weightlessness to his passengers. Teresa inhaled sharply. Then Danny turned them all intangible and carried them outside. 

He neared the ground slowly, careful not to jar either Teresa or Dave, and set them gently near a waiting ambulance. The EMT Danny had spoken to earlier rushed to tend to her new patients. She shot Danny a grateful look and began staunching the bloodflow from Dave’s damaged leg. 

Danny delivered the remaining seven people to safety in the same manner. It felt like it took an age, removing them two by two, and each time Danny left the others behind he begged the building not to collapse. The woman who had first responded to Danny’s query, whose name was Sandra, stayed until the very last member of the group was evacuated, and only then allowed Danny to take her. 

“You’re a kind young man,” Sandra told Danny as he dropped her off a reasonable distance from the building. “Stay safe, alright?”

Danny saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sandra barked a tired laugh and Danny flew up to the sixth floor. 

He weaved through crumpled doorways and tipped chairs, and mourned the shattered family pictures and drawings scribbled in crayon that he didn’t have time to collect. 

A muffled mewl drifted into Danny’s ears. He slowed and listened. Following the sound, he passed into a conference room and spied a locked kennel. The white calico cat inside meowed plaintively at him. Who the hell brought their cat to work? Decisively, Danny hoisted the kennel and dove. 

“Pebble!” came a cry as Danny neared the ground. 

Danny handed the kennel over to the outstretched hands of the overjoyed man. 

A flash of suspiciously familiar orange caught Danny’s eye, and he twisted. It was Jack. He and Maddie were unloading crates of water and boxes of granola bars, and handing them out to the stunned populace. 

Maddie looked up and zeroed in on Danny. She fired a withering “we talked about this” frown at him. Danny shrunk away. 

“Thank you,” the cat man said to Danny, relieved tears spilling down his face. “I-I was supposed to take her to the vet today but — ”

“Gottagosorry!” Danny cried over his shoulder, bolting for the seventh floor. 

The layout wasn’t the same as the other floors, which were made up of cubicles. This one was a maze of closed offices. Frosted glass panes littered the ground in chunks, and white doors hung crooked on their hinges.

“Anybody here?” Danny yelled into the stillness, slipping in rapid succession into each office. They were all a mess like the rest of the building, but to Danny’s relief the floor appeared to have been successfully evacuated. 

Once he had surveyed the final office he moved up to the eighth floor.

It was a mirror image of the previous one, except for the strange number of motivational posters adorning the walls. One was the classic “Hang In There!” cat poster. The innocuous normality of it slowed Danny for a beat, before he shook himself and ventured further.

“Phantom!” someone called. 

Danny spun around to face a red-headed man and an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The man was beckoning Danny.

“Thank fuck,” the man said, sagging in relief as Danny glided over. “The goddamn door is jammed.”

“Don’t worry,” Danny soothed, “I can fly you out of here, c’mon.”

“Woah, wait,” the man said, “I can’t do heights.”

Danny cursed in his head. “Sir, there aren’t a lot of other options.”

“Can’t you like, teleport us or something?” The man prompted, sweat beading on his brow.

“Not unless you want to go to the Ghost Zone,” Danny said slowly.

The man pulled a face. “Er. No, thanks.”

“Just…close your eyes. I won’t drop you, I swear,” Danny said.

“Shit, shit, shit,” the man muttered. 

“It’ll be alright, Jeremy,” the woman comforted, taking Jeremy’s hand. “We’ll do it together.”

“Um.” Danny assessed the wheelchair. “Do you need that? I don’t think I can take it and you two.”

“Well, yes,” the woman said dryly. “But I’ll make do.”

“Great,” Danny said, and hooked a hand under Jeremy’s arm. “Look, nothing to it.” He lifted them up in the air and Jeremy hissed expletives but kept still. 

“I’ve never flown before,” the woman said conversationally.

“Never?” Danny said, and pulled her up too. “Not even on a plane?”

“Nope,” the woman replied. “Never had a reason to.”

“Well,” Danny said, “today’s your lucky day.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

Danny and the woman chuckled together as Danny flew the pair out and downwards, Jeremy whining into the wind. When Danny set them on solid ground, Jeremy folded to his knees and pressed his palms into the dirt. 

“Never again,” he croaked to himself. “Never again, never again. Fuck me.”

“Thanks,” the old woman said to Danny.

“No problem,” Danny replied. For the first time since his arrival, he relaxed. All the floors were empty. Everyone was safe. The ambulances were ferrying the injured to the hospital—assisted, he noticed, by the GAV—and the firefighters were close to extinguishing the final flickers of flame. 

 “Hey, I checked the whole building already, maybe I can grab your wheelchair,” Danny addressed the elderly woman.

“If it's not too much trouble,” the woman said. “That’s very kind of you.”

Danny shot her a thumbs up and looked back at the top floor. 

Suddenly, a deep, haggard groan spilled out of the base of the damaged skyscraper. Danny blanched. The building began to slowly but surely tilt forward. At each snap and crash of things breaking, it sped up.

“It’s gonna fall!” a firefighter barked, rushing at the assembled swath of civilians. “Clear the area! Now!”

People screamed and flailed, senseless with panic as they rushed to get away from the toppling behemoth above. Danny stood still amidst the crowd. Bodies flowed around him, running into one another at every step and making little headway. First responders scurried up and over rubble. None of them looked back—they couldn’t afford to waste precious seconds.

A simple truth coalesced in Danny’s mind: it was too late to run. Most people wouldn’t get out of the way in time. 

At this, he snapped into action. Launching off the sidewalk, Danny hurtled towards the falling building and steeled himself. He aimed for the section of the wall that was the most intact and slammed into it hard. Pain bolted up his arms but he shoved it from his mind. 

Grasping every last drop of energy, Danny planted his hands on the side of the building and pushed. A hundred thousand tons of wood, concrete, and steel ground into him. 

Danny groaned and pinched his eyes shut. Green sparks twisted up and around his limbs as he funneled all his strength into holding up the building. Reluctantly, it eased to an unsteady stop. 

Time slowed to a crawl. Everything else in the world, in the whole universe, disappeared, and left nothing else but Danny and the crushing, indescribable pressure bearing down on him.

Sweat rolled down Danny’s strained face. His arms shook like untethered steel coils.

Dismayed, Danny realized he was depleting himself too fast. He couldn’t keep this up. He was weakening, he could feel the building sagging a bit, then a bit more. He growled and tried to muscle it back. Nothing happened. 

Spots danced in his vision. Air rasped at his dry throat. His core screamed at him to stop. 

He couldn’t hold it, he couldn’t, he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t —

And then the weight lightened and vanished. 

Danny flailed, sure he had instinctively gone intangible and dropped the building on the people below, and was stunned to find it hanging there in front of him. Discombobulated, he drifted backward and stared as Skulker, Ember, Technus, Dora, and the Box Ghost lifted the building higher.

“Where d’ya want this, Phantom?” Ember asked.

“...The…huff…old dumpyard is fine,” Danny replied faintly. “Huff...Thank you.”

“Go sit down, ghost boy,” Skulker instructed. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Okay.” Danny floated to the ground and collapsed in a tangle of limbs. He and everyone else watched the other ghosts heft the building up, shake it a couple times to clear the loose chunks, and carry it away in the direction of the dump. 

Danny breathed slow and ignored the few inquisitive glances cast on him. 

He was tired. Boy howdy, was he tired.

“Hey.” 

Danny looked up. The EMT from before stood over him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Can I…” she paused, then gestured at Danny’s forehead. “...take care of that for you?”

“Take care of what?” Danny asked in muddled puzzlement.

“You’re bleeding,” the EMT explained, concern sprouting on her face.

Danny swiped his fingers along his forehead and they came away smeared green. “Oh.”

“Or, ectoplasm-ing,” the EMT pondered, “I’m not sure what the term would be for you.” She kneeled beside Danny and cracked open her First Aid Kit. “My name’s Sharon, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny said. “I’m — Phantom.”

“I know,” Sharon said, amused. She cupped Danny’s head and examined the wound. “It isn’t too deep, you won’t need stitches.”

“That’s good,” Danny said, “I don’t like needles.”

Sharon patted his knee. “Me neither.”

Up close, Sharon looked older. Her curly brown hair was flecked with grey, and she had laugh lines and crows feet pressed into her soft face. Danny figured she was a few years his mom’s senior. Behind her large, round glasses, Sharon’s intelligent eyes darted over the contents of the First Aid Kit as her hands nimbly leafed through it. 

“I’m going to sterilize the wound,” Sharon told Danny. “It’ll sting, alright?”

Danny nodded his assent. Sharon ripped open a package and swabbed Danny’s forehead with an alcohol wipe. It did indeed sting, and Danny winced. 

“Sorry, love,” Sharon said. She broke into another package and withdrew a gauze pad, which she pressed to the cut. “Hold this here for a minute, ‘kay?”

Danny settled a hand over the gauze and held it in place. Sharon dug around for a moment and then triumphantly held up a small plastic packet. Enclosed inside was a neat row of thin medical strips of some kind. Sharon peeled open the wrapper and leaned towards Danny.

“You can take that off now,” Sharon said. Danny complied, lowering the green-stained gauze, and Sharon began carefully applying the strips one by one along the cut, sealing it shut. “So how’d you get into the whole hero thing?” she asked. 

“I dunno,” Danny said, “it just kinda happened. What else are you supposed to do with ghost powers?”

Sharon chuckled. “If I could do what you can when I was your age, I would’ve pranked my teachers and stolen snacks from my classmates and not much else.”

“I’ve done that,” Danny commented, and slapped a hand over his mouth. 

“No judgment,” Sharon said wryly. “I can’t say I’m shocked. No-one can be a hero all the time, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Danny said.

“Last one,” Sharon said, and pressed one more strip to Danny’s brow. “Which Band-Aid, boring brown or fun cartoon?”

Danny eyed the proffered exuberant Sponge-Bob bandage. “Fun cartoon might be a bit too recognizable.”

“Right,” Sharon said, clicking her tongue.  “Secret identity and everything. Brown it is.” She lined up the bandage over Danny’s cut and slicked the adhesive smooth over it. “There we go, good as new.” 

“Thank you,” Danny said.

“Anytime.” Sharon smiled. “Take care, Phantom. If you ever need help, come down to emerge and I’ll patch you up, no questions asked.”

Danny kicked into the air. “Not even ‘how are you?’”

“One question,” Sharon conceded, “and maybe a couple about what you do for fun and what your favourite movies are.”

“That’s definitely more than none,” Danny pointed out.

“What can I say?” Sharon declared, waving to Danny as he rose higher. “I’m a chatter!”

Danny flew towards home—not very fast considering the lecture from his parents that was doubtless waiting for him when he returned. It was hard to break the habit of simply running to the rescue, and the fact that his parents now took notice when he did baffled him every time. 

Adding on the fact that Danny had a very visible bandage on his face, he was dreading the conversation more than one of Jack’s sporadic cleaning sprees.

Unsure whether or not his parents had gotten back yet from transporting patients, Danny eased open the front door and poked his head inside. The kitchen and living room were still. 

The tension in Danny’s shoulders unwound. He had a little longer before hell rained down upon him. 

Slipping into the house, Danny padded to the kitchen and grabbed a glass out of the dishwasher. Evacuating a building and then lifting said building apparently made you thirsty. The first glass of water was gulped down in short order, and Danny poured a second one and carried it to the couch. He fell into the soft cushions and groaned. Sleep wasn’t going to be a challenge tonight.

The remote was wedged between two pillows, no doubt his dad’s doing. Danny retrieved it and clicked on the TV, shuffling through the stations until he landed on Action News. They were talking about the accident. 

Gas leak, early warning system, failed structural integrity, explosion ignited by an exposed wire, evacuation, and skyscraper transported to a separate location for temporary holding. It seemed so much simpler on the news than in reality. 

The broadcast cut to a live feed of the site. A new reporter stood in front of the yawning cavern where the building once stood. She wore a sharp pantsuit and clutched a microphone. She was young, and a touch flighty — it was possible this was her first up-close encounter with genuine calamity. Danny could relate.

“Thanks to the assistance of Phantom,” the on-sight reporter said, and despite her nerves her voice was even, “as well as a number of other ghosts, there were no casualties.”

Danny sighed in relief. 

“It’s unclear at this time what the city will do about the empty space,” the reporter continued. “For now, efforts are focused on cleaning up the hazardous materials in the area and ensuring the people affected by this crisis get the help they need. The kindness of our local ghosts has allowed us a head start, the building itself is, as you can see behind me, already removed, and the quick response of Phantom prevented it from falling on anyone or crushing any of the surrounding buildings. 

“We don’t have video of this, but I have been informed by multiple bystanders that Phantom held up the building for at least two minutes on his own before the other ghosts arrived to help. I have here Mr. Jack Straid, who has agreed to recount his memory of the incident.” 

The camera panned and revealed a stout middle-aged man. 

“Mr. Straid, what can you tell us?” The reporter held the microphone up to the man.

The creak of the front door swinging open interrupted his testimony. Danny scrambled to turn off the TV and sat up to face his parents as they entered. He bit his lip. Anxiety was evident in their ashen faces and weighted movements.

“Danny,” Maddie said, hurrying to Danny’s side, “you’re hurt.” She ran her thumb along the bandage on his forehead. 

“Just a cut, Mom,” Danny said. “I’m alright. One of the paramedics cleaned it up.”

Jack laid a hand on Danny’s arm, squeezing it as if to confirm Danny was truly there. “You gave us a scare, Danno,” he said.

Reassured that their son was safe, Danny could do nothing but watch as his fretful parents changed gears to boiling frustration.

“What were you thinking?” Maddie demanded. “You’re supposed to tell us before you do Phantom things!”

“There wasn’t time!” Danny cried. “I needed to leave right away.”

“You could have texted,” Maddie countered sternly. “Or left a note on the fridge, or yelled for us. We were in the basement, we would have heard you.”

Danny’s agitation fizzled. “I guess.”

Maddie sighed deeply. “We’re trying our best here, Danny. We’re trying to help you. I get it. I get that it’s annoying, your parents following you around—Lord knows I hated that when I was a teenager. And I know you don’t think we can do anything.”

“I don’t think that,” Danny said quietly. “It’s…it’s just…I don’t want you to get in the way. You could get hurt.”

“‘Cause we’re not half-ghost?” Jack asked. “Like you?”

“...Yeah,” Danny said. 

Jack lifted Danny’s hair up to uncover the bandage. “But you get hurt, too.”

Danny flinched.

“It’s our job to worry about you,” Maddie said, “not the other way around. This is the trade, Danny. You help people, we help you. That’s non-negotiable.”

“I don’t need help,” Danny huffed, and frowned at how childish he sounded. “I’ve done this for years. I didn’t need you then, I don’t need you now.”

“Why do you think the other ghosts were there today?” Maddie asked abruptly. 

Danny opened his mouth to deliver a confident answer, and paused. “...I dunno.”

“Because we called them,” Maddie said. 

Danny stared blankly at her. 

“We took the Specter Speeder and spoke to Skulker,” Maddie continued, “the second we realized what happened. That's why we were late. Because we were certain you would be there, saving people, and there was a good chance you’d need help. Because you’ve always needed help.” Danny frowned and Maddie held up a hand. “That’s not an insult, sweetheart. Everyone needs help. Jazz, Tucker, Sam, they helped you when we couldn’t. But they’re kids, like you. None of you should be alone in this.”

“We’re your back up now, too,” Jack added. 

“You do a lot of good, Danny,” Maddie murmured. “I’d never claim otherwise. But there is a cost, and it gets steeper the more you isolate yourself, the more you run yourself ragged. We won’t let that happen. As your parents, it’s our job to support you. Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom.”

Danny rubbed his bandage and percolated. “...Even when I do scary things?”

“Especially when you do scary things,” Maddie affirmed.  

“And sometimes,” Jack added, “we have gadgets to zap the scary things with.”

“Those are pretty cool.” Danny smiled at his dad.

“Team Fenton?” Jack held out his fist and grinned.

“Team Fenton.” Danny bumped it.

Maddie added her fist to the collection. “You’ll let us know next time?”

“Yeah, okay,” Danny replied. “Could be nice to have some adults around for once.”

“Jazz might take offense to that,” Maddie said wryly.

Danny snickered. 

“You should thank her, by the way,” Maddie said.

“Jazz?” Danny said. “Why?”

“She chased us all the way across town and convinced us to try to hear your side.” Maddie said, and chuckled. “Lucky thing, because I was ready to charge in here and give you the talking to of your life.”

Danny was struck by the sudden, intense impression that a foreboding storm had just barely passed him by.