Clueless
Danny should have known something was wrong the first time Jazz came home with a less than stellar grade. Rather than her usual cheery cry of "I'm home!", she stalked through the door, forgetting to close it on her way down the hall. Danny got up from his perch in the living room to close the door, then followed her down the hallway towards the kitchen. She had paused there, hand running through her hair, mouth frowning, eyes boring a hole into the paper she was holding.
He put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay there, sis?"
She started, then held the paper to her chest, looking down, frown deepening. "I'm fine." She abruptly turned around, brushing past him to pace back down the hallway.
"You sure you're okay? Because I'm pretty sure that paper's smoking from how hard you're staring at it." Danny raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. "What is that, anyways?"
Jazz absentmindedly pulled her hand through her hair, pacing back towards the kitchen. "We got our tests back."
Danny nodded. "Nice. Get your A plus plus?"
Jazz froze mid-stride. The paper crumpled and shook in her hand. Her other hand had stopped midway down her hair and had tightened into a fist.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Danny asked, pushing himself up from the wall.
Jazz looked down at the ground. Then she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I got a B, okay?" she shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. Her backpack dropped to the floor and her test slid from her hand. She growled in frustration, bending down to pick them up.
"Woah, hey, you don't have to growl over that, a B's a great grade!" If there was one thing he hated more than her holier than thou attitude, it was when she was genuinely upset.
Jazz snorted. "For you maybe, you get B's and C's all the time!"
"Yeah, and there's nothing wrong with that!" Danny retorted, miffed.
"But that's you, not me!" Jazz stressed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and stalking past him into the kitchen. "I'm supposed to be the straight A student— the perfect daughter who goes to Stanford and becomes a renowned psychologist! How can I do that if I start getting B's?"
"Wow, way to make a guy feel special," Danny muttered, following her into the kitchen. She had dropped her backpack by the table and was pacing around the island, one hand holding her test, the other alternating between turning a page and running through her already frizzy hair.
"Seriously, though, it's nothing to worry about." Danny put a hand on his sister's shoulder, stopping her mid-pace. "Stanford's not gonna care about one B. So the test was a little harder than you expected— so what? You put in the work, with all that time you've spent in the library studying— that's what matters. You did your best. That's all anyone can ask for."
Danny sent her a gentle grin, but she didn't reciprocate. Instead she bit her lip, looking down at their shoes.
"Danny, can I tell you something? And can you promise not to freak out or anything?"
Danny put his other hand on her other shoulder. "Yeah, of course, Jazz. What's up?"
Jazz took a deep breath. "Well, I—"
Then she gasped. She looked up, but not at him— her eyes darted around the room, before settling on the window.
"Jazz, what's wrong? What's going on?"
"I— I need to go to the library!" she blurted, yanking herself from Danny's grip and running out of the kitchen, down the hallway and out the door.
Danny followed after her. "But you forgot your—"
The door slammed shut.
"... Backpack."
*~*~*
Danny should have figured it out the first time he met the ghost girl— but, to be fair, when he finally did meet her, he was a wreck.
He had gone to schedule a meeting with Dr. Spectra for being late to class, again. He wasn't sure why, but ever since he'd started sessions with her— heck, maybe even before then, he was too depressed to tell— he'd felt miserable and dazed, and found it harder to get up in the morning to go to school, let alone get to class on time.
So here he was, skipping the beginning of the Spirit Week assembly, hoping to catch Dr. Spectra before she left for the day. Sam and Tucker were probably jealous— skipping even a part of any school-mandated assembly would be the highlight of his day, even if it was to meet with the school counselor.
But she'd helped him realize that maybe he'd always felt depressed, and the fact that it was worse now just meant he was getting it out in the open so it could be dealt with. It sounded about as reasonable as any of Jazz's psychobabble, so he went with it. Maybe he should ask Jazz about this, she was into psychology and all that... but he shouldn't burden her with his problems, he was the older brother after all, and especially after her accident and with her troubles in school—
Danny was about to knock on Dr. Spectra's door when he heard a cackle.
That was weird.
Danny stopped short, hand on the door handle, listening. The voices were muffled, but it was clearly Dr. Spectra talking animatedly, probably to her assistant. He could only just make out the words.
"Oh, Bertrand, I'm gonna miss these kids. They're a waterfall of misery."
Bertrand murmured a reply Danny couldn't hear. Dr. Spectra laughed in response.
"Especially the Fenton kids! Teen misery is the nectar that keeps me looking fabulous. And those kids are like a walking spa treatment!"
Danny's blood ran cold. This doctor— no, this hack— was making him feel miserable? Was making his sister feel the same way? His eyes widened, and his grip tightened on the door handle in anger.
Bertrand muttered something, and Spectra chuckled.
"You and your puns, Bertrand! Just because we're ghosts doesn't mean we have to spirit ourselves away! Certainly not before the grand finale!"
Danny had heard enough. He dug his other hand into his pocket, gripping the Fenton Lipstick Blaster before swinging the door open. He pointed the lipstick at Spectra, who was leaning against her desk.
"I don't know what your 'grand finale' is, but it stops here!"
Spectra and Bertrand looked up at Danny, still smirking. "Why, whatever do you mean?" Spectra cooed, putting her hand to her face
"I heard what you were plotting, ghosts. And you're not going to get away with it! You're going back through the portal, and you're not gonna touch me or my sister again!" Danny tightened his grip on the lipstick.
Spectra glanced at Bertrand. Bertrand glanced at Spectra. Then they burst into peals of laughter.
"Oh, kid, this is too good! So you've discovered our little secret, so what? What are you going to do, throw lipstick at us? What's a boy like you doing with lipstick anyways?" Spectra wiped an invisible tear from her eye, getting up from the desk.
Danny smirked. "This."
He then let loose a blast from the lipstick blaster, hitting Spectra in the shoulder.
Spectra cried out, stumbling backwards into the desk, clutching her shoulder, grimacing in pain and anger. "Bertrand," she hissed. "Sic 'em!"
Bertrand lunged at Danny, transforming from a short tubby man to a green glowing cougar. Danny let loose a cry and another blast from the lipstick. It missed wildly. Bertrand knocked Danny down, pinning him to the ground. Danny held back a cry and tried to buck the ghost off of him. Weren't ghosts supposed to be light? But Bertrand was heavy in this form, and he quickly pinned Danny's blaster hand down with his paw. He pressed down slowly, firmly, watching with joy in his eyes and his bared teeth as Danny squirmed and then screamed in pain, letting go of the blaster.
Bertrand flung the lipstick away, and in that moment Danny curled his injured hand into a fist and hit Bertrand in the eye. Bertrand recoiled from him with a yelp. Danny choked on a scream, grimacing against the flaring agony spreading across his knuckles. Oh god, the ectoplasm burned, even more than curling his hand into a fist did.
Suddenly free of the pressure, Danny flipped himself over and bolted from the doorway. He had bitten off more than he could chew. The blaster was just a few feet from him; if he could reach it, he could hold them back and call his parents, and they could help—
A cold hand grabbed his neck; nails dug into his pressure points. He tried to scream, but another hand, black as midnight and clawed, wrapped around his mouth and nose. He was dragged back into the room, saw Bertrand, smirking despite his black eye, close the door. Then he was forced to sit in the chair before the desk, forced to face the nightmare that had captured him.
Its form was like fire and knives, forged in darkness. Its edges were sharp, yet flickering, and they cut into his torso and arms as it wrapped itself around him like a snake. The top of its head flickered and waved, trailing behind its every movement. Its clawed hands wrapped over his head and around his face, forcing him to look into its eyes. The eyes were the worst— red like blood, glowing like embers, tinted with malice.
Then it spoke, and Danny realized with horror who it was.
"Aw, why are you afraid?" Spectra crooned. "Surely you knew what you were getting into when you decided to face us. Where's your brave face now, you stupid boy?"
She grinned, purple lips splitting to reveal pointed teeth. Danny shuddered, then winced in pain as she tightened her hold on him.
He was stupid— stupid for opening that door, for starting a fight with things he didn't understand— hell, for trusting Spectra with his mental health in the first place! Stupid Fenton with his stupid anger and his stupid pipe dreams and stupid grades and wow, you're just all around stupid aren't you, you stupid, stupid boy?
Danny couldn't respond, couldn't find the will to respond. Everything was hazy and everything hurt and he just wanted the pain to end, just wanted it all to end, and who would care if anything happened to a stupid boy like you? Your friends? Your sister? They're better off without you!
His friends... his sister... he needed to... he was here because... if he let go now....
"L-Let go," Danny muttered, still hazy with pain and misery, still staring into those horrible, horrible eyes.
"What was that?" Spectra murmured, bringing her face closer to his, feasting on the anguish in his voice, in his eyes. "Are you ready to let everything go, stupid boy?"
Danny screwed his eyes shut. He needed... he needed to think, he needed the pain to go away, he needed it all— no, he needed the monster to go away, needed it to....
"Let— let go of me!" Danny cried, trying and failing to pull away from the monster's claws.
"Why would I do that?" Spectra crowed. She traced a line down Danny's face with one of her claws, drawing blood. "Your doubt, your misery— it's delicious."
Danny was fading. He couldn't keep his eyes shut, couldn't look away from those glowing red pits that promised pain and despair before the sweet release of death. He couldn't fight, couldn't get away, could only wait for the monster to devour him whole—
"Let go of him!"
The voice echoed in his head, cutting through the fog like a ray of sunshine. He felt something collide with him, felt his body hit the wall before collapsing to the floor, and it hurt like hell but not like the hell he'd felt before; it hurt like hell but he could breathe again, and he did so, taking great gasps of air, and with every inhale the fog lifted a little bit more, until he could think thoughts other than death, feel emotions other than misery.
When he could remember what moving felt like, he slowly worked himself up to a sitting position, glancing around the room. It was empty. Undisturbed, save for himself and the chair knocked over in front of him. If not for the chair, it looked like Spectra and Bertrand might just be out for lunch.
Spectra. Danny couldn't repress a shudder, and then a wince as the cuts along his chest and arms and face made themselves known with sharp, stinging pain. What the hell kind of a ghost was that? Mom and Dad had never said anything about ghosts that could do that. When he thought of ghosts, he thought of little green blobs with frowny faces. Not... whatever the hell Spectra was. He forced back another shudder. Maybe they were right all along. That ghosts were real, and that they were evil and to be avoided....
But then, who was that voice that had cut through the fog? Who had saved him?
He didn't know. But what he did know was that those ghosts were too much for one person to handle. He needed to find whoever had saved him, and help them before Spectra could—
He repressed another shudder. Don't think about it.
He needed to help them stop the ghosts.
Which meant he needed to get up.
Right.
Danny pressed his hands against the wall, then hissed as his left hand shot fire up his arm. He looked at it and gulped— it didn't look good. A couple of fingers were bent the wrong way, and the skin was raw and blistered from punching Bertrand in the eye. He squeezed his eyes shut. Took a deep breath. There were worse things than a broken hand. He couldn't focus on that now. He cradled his hand into his chest, and with his other hand he dragged the chair closer to him, using it to lever himself up onto shaky legs.
Standing. That was a thing he could do now. Good.
He took a small step and nearly fell over, bracing himself once more on the chair.
Okay, walking was going to take a little bit.
He took a few moments braced against the chair, before pushing himself up. He took a few wobbly steps towards the door, feeling like a baby giraffe taking its first few steps. When he reached the door, he braced himself against it for a few seconds, before taking a step back and pulling the door open. He needed to get to his locker if he wanted to be of any help— the ghost weapons his parents insisted he took to school were there, as was the ghost tracker they'd nearly perfected. It still pointed to Jazz for some reason, but it was better than nothing. He just hoped it'd lead him true.
Getting to his locker didn't prove to be a problem. He was a little slower than he wanted to be, but he was for once grateful for the school assembly, which emptied the hallways of students and teachers.
Opening his locker posed no problem— he could do it just as well with his right hand as he could with his left.
Picking a weapon to go along with the Fenton Finder proved tricky. He needed something that actually worked, that he could use with one hand. Something he could tuck under his arm while he used the tracker. Something that could actually do something against Spectra and Bertrand. He wished he had an ectogun, wished that he hadn't drawn the line at guns in school. But maybe...
He remembered his Dad demonstrating it at the kitchen table. He remembered how it turned into armor and a blaster. Hoping against hope that his parents had given a functional prototype to him "for his protection"— with the days he'd been having, hell if he knew— he dug one-handed through the junk in his locker, searching for the Fenton Peeler.
Fenton Ghost Fisher... no... Fenton Grappler... maybe... Fenton Anti-Creep Stick? What was that doing there? Aha!
There, partially hidden behind the Fenton Blanket, the Fenton Peeler sat, green ports gleaming in the light from the hallway behind him. He picked it up, finagling it one-handed under his arm, before picking up the Fenton Finder. Shutting his locker door and turning the tracker on, he waited for it to download location data.
"Ghost 150 feet to your right."
Danny grinned and turned to his right, following the Fenton Finder down the hallway, occasionally leaning against the lockers as he fought waves of dizziness, but always forcing himself back up again. Whoever it was that saved him probably needed help, and he was the only one who could find them.
He turned down a side hall to the doorway that let out in the alley behind the gym. The gym was where the Spirit Week assembly was being held... if this thing led to Jazz, he was going to scream. And then maybe faint. And then berate her for skipping assembly when there were dangerous ghosts on the loose.
But a few feet from the door, his blood ran cold and he couldn't suppress a shiver at the harsh, cutting sound of Spectra's voice. He powered down and put down the Fenton Finder, pulling the Peeler out from under his arm as he crept to the door. Gently pushing it open, he caught the last of Spectra's spiel.
"... some creepy little girl with creepy little powers?"
"Both! Uh...neither! I don't know!" The voice he had heard before— the one that had cleared the fog for him— rang clear now, high and uncertain, echoing in the alleyway. He glanced out the door and saw Spectra in her nightmarish form, clutching the face of his savior in her claws.
She was a ghost. She glowed like a ghost; her white hair, done up in a ponytail, floated and flickered like a ghost; and when he thought about it, her voice echoed like a ghost. He wanted to shut the door and leave them to it – they were ghosts, and ghosts were evil, Spectra had proven that – but she had saved him. Why would a ghost bother with saving him?
Then an aura formed around both ghosts, growing weaker around the girl, and stronger around the nightmare. Spectra bared her fangs in wicked delight.
"You're a freak! Not a ghost, not a girl! Who cares for a thing like you?"
Danny gritted his teeth. His grip hardened around the Fenton Peeler. With his elbow, he slammed the door open.
"Hey! I don't know this girl, but I think she should get a second opinion!"
And he activated the Fenton Peeler.
Spectra dropped the ghost— the girl, she was just a kid, no older than his sister— as the armor formed around him, sprouting from his hand and engulfing his arm, then his torso, then his head and legs, with metal. It squeezed just a little too tight, and he grimaced in pain; but it held him up, held him steady, held his arm steady. Gritting his teeth, he fired.
The blast of green should have bowled him over, but the armor stood firm. Instead it expanded from the end of the blaster, a wave of green that threatened to blow out the knife-like flames of the monster's being.
And then it did – peeling the darkness away, revealing Spectra's human form beneath, still buffeted by the onslaught of green. And then it peeled that away too, unveiling a slightly older Spectra, lines in her face twisting as she screamed. Layer after layer shriveled from her form, each revealing an older, weaker Spectra, until there was nothing left but a withered husk of the ghost she used to be. Danny released the trigger.
"No! I am nothing without my youth!" the ghost cried, voice straining against its atrophied state.
Suddenly, a blast of blue-white light engulfed her, and she screamed again, distorting and stretching towards the source of it. Danny looked and saw the ghost girl, arms outstretched, holding the thermos Dad had thrown away. Her eyes blazed green, her face set in a determined expression, her feet spread and braced against the force of the thermos.
Then, as Spectra disappeared into the thermos, the ghost girl capped it, and everything suddenly went silent, all but the blood pounding in Danny's ears. He wondered briefly if the ghost girl heard blood pounding in her ears, then dismissed the thought. Ghosts were dead. Their hearts didn't pump blood, if they had hearts at all.
Danny pressed the button to shut down the armor, and it peeled off of him, making him think of the way Spectra's nightmarish armor had peeled off of her. He chuckled, saying, "Talk about having nothing within."
Then a wave of dizziness hit him, and his legs buckled. His vision blurred as the pain he'd been forcing back hit him all at once, and he collapsed.
"Danny!"
The voice echoed in his head, but it couldn't cut through the pain he was in. He ached everywhere, and his arms and torso and face stung with a dozen cuts and bruises, and his hand was on fire, and his head— oh god, his head hurt like hell. He couldn't tell which way was up, could hardly think over the pounding in his brain—
There was a bright flash of light, and he couldn't hold back a moan as it stabbed into his eyes. He squinted them shut for a second— it could only have been a second— but when he opened them there was a familiar shock of red hair, and then a face— Jazz's face— looking down at him. Her mouth opened and she said something, but he couldn't make out the words, could only stare as her hair floated around her head, forming a ring around it like a crown of flames. Her eyes burned a toxic green, almost glowing in the alleyway. Then he blinked and her face was gone, and red and blue and white surrounded him, switching between the colors too fast for him to keep track. He wanted to sit up, to look around and find Jazz again, but his body wouldn't do what he told it to do. Instead he closed his eyes, shutting out the confusing lights and the loud noises that wouldn't sort themselves into things that made sense.
As he faded from the world, a fragment of Jazz's voice caught up to him, echoing in his head like the ghost girl's. Funny, they sounded almost the same. He would have laughed if he had the strength, if the world weren't tilting and twisting around him.
"Hold on!" she had said.
Hold on
*~*~*
The first thing Danny noticed was the sound of beeping.
It began softly, echoing in the darkness, an almost comforting sound in the background of his mind. But as awareness crept into his being, the beeping grew louder, more distinct, climbing to the foreground of his mind, poking him and prodding him and urging him to wake up, wake up, WAKE UP—
He opened his eyes.
And squeezed them shut again as the white light bored into them, driving a spike through the front of his head. He hissed in pain, and the beeping increased in frequency.
"Danny?"
He felt something cold touch his hand, and flinched away instinctively, eyes flinging themselves open, then squinting against the harsh light and the sharp pain in his head. He tried to sit up, but felt something large push against his chest. A dull ache pressed into his chest, but it was nothing compared to the panic racing through his veins, the beeping growing louder and more urgent, he was trapped, he couldn't get out, couldn't escape the monster that wanted to devour him whole—
"Danny!"
"Danny, it's okay!"
Danny froze, and then relaxed at the sound of familiar voices— voices that meant safety and comfort, voices that meant the monster couldn't be here because they would have chased it away. He opened his eyes again and was met with a wall of orange, a pillar of it outstretched, ending in a black glove held against his chest.
He glanced to his right, and saw a mild teal color— the color of home and cookies and gentle hugs and forehead kisses— then looked up to see purple eyes with eyebrows knotted in worry, lips pulled down in a gentle frown.
"Dad? Mom?"
His voice was raspy, but his parents smiled down at him all the same, their heads haloed by the bright white light in the ceiling above him. Still squinting against the light and the pounding in his head, he asked, "Can you turn down the lights? They're making my head hurt."
His mom turned back, saying, "Jazz, could you— thanks, honey!"
The lights went out, and the spike in his head disappeared, leaving a dull ache in its wake. He sighed in relief, slumping back and rubbing his eyes. Or at least, he tried to rub his eyes— his mom grabbed his right hand, saying, "Oh honey, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
His left hand, however, was left free; but as he raised it into his line of sight, he stopped short.
His hand was bandaged, and two of his fingers were heavily bruised and splinted. He stared at his hand in dull confusion. Was he in a hospital? What had—
Then his hand began to shake as the memories rushed back. Bertrand pressing slowly into his hand until his grip on the blaster and his fingers broke. Spectra's body cutting into his own as it tightened around him, her claw dragging down his face as she—
He put his hand down, pressing his head back into the bed and squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about it— didn't want to think about those red eyes, bleeding with malice and glee, staring into his own, or the way his thoughts and emotions had bled and twisted at the whim of her words, or— no, don't think about it— don't think—
"Oh, honey!" He felt a warm weight upon him, and he opened his eyes. His mom's hair was in his face, her arms wrapped around him, holding him gently, but holding him close. His dad quickly followed, his huge arms wrapping around them both. Danny burrowed his head into the crook of his mom's shoulder, and she hugged him tighter. He turned his head and looked for Jazz— she was still by the light switch, one hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt, the other fisted in her pocket. Her eyes were trained on him, shining with unshed tears, expression uncertain. He smiled wearily, extending his right hand to her. Before he knew it, she was hugging him, too, holding his hand and burying her head into his shoulder. Her hand was cold, but not freezing the way Spectra's had been. Her grip pressed into the needle in his hand, but he squeezed it anyways, pressing his head into hers. His dad wrapped his arm around her as well.
Surrounded by his family, warm in their arms, he felt safe for what seemed like the first time in ages. What Bertrand and Spectra had done almost felt like a dream.
Almost.
Stupid boy... who cares for a thing like you?
He shuddered and held tighter to his sister's hand. Then his dad squeezed him harder, and he winced as pain flared in his chest.
"Jack, you're hurting him!" his mom berated, giving Danny a kiss on the forehead before pulling herself from the hug. Jazz and his dad let go as well, his dad sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry, Danno, I'm just... so proud of you, son!"
Danny stared in confusion at his dad, who wiped a tear from his eye and smiled.
His mom beamed down at him as well. "We're both so proud of you, Danny, and we're so glad you're alright."
Danny looked between his parents, still confused. "Um... proud? Why—"
"You kicked ghost butt, Danno! Just like your old man!" his dad proclaimed, chest swelling with pride.
"Jazz told us all about it! How you saved her from that horrible ghost—"
"And how you shredded that ghost with the Fenton Peeler! Created by me! Jack Fenton!"
"But—"
"You were so brave, sweetie, facing down three ghosts—"
"That's my boy! You got Fenton genes!"
"Wait—"
"But next time be sure to call us before you confront them; we're the experts, and we don't want you to get hurt—"
"Plus you get to see your old man in action!"
"Okay, but—"
"We'll have to figure out just where that ghost girl got a Fenton Thermos, and how she knows how to operate it..."
"And then we can rip her apart molecule by molecule!"
"But not before a thorough dissection—"
Danny bristled. "The ghost girl saved my life!"
His mom and dad paused, a bit shocked by his outburst. Then his mom smiled gently at him.
"Oh honey, that concussion must have really done a number on you! Ghosts aren't helpful, and they don't save people's lives except to advance their own selfish desires."
"Ha! Imagine that, Mads, a ghost saving someone!"
Danny could only stare dumbfounded as his parents laughed. Then he spluttered, "But— but she did, she— can you please stop laughing?!"
His mom put her hand on his shoulder, her laughter dying down to a chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetie, we weren't laughing at you. We were laughing at the concept of a helpful ghost!"
"But she did help me..." Danny muttered, looking down.
His mom sighed, still smiling, removing her hand. "Ghosts don't help people, sweetie. If they seem like they're helping, it's only to further their own selfish agenda."
His dad nodded enthusiastically. "And when we get our hands on that ghost girl, we'll figure out just what she wants, and everything there is to know about her!"
His mom beamed up at his dad, wrapping her arm around his waist. "But first— we need to fill out some paperwork!" she said, guiding his dad towards the door.
"Aw man, I hate paperwork!" his dad complained, pouting.
"We'll get fudge after we're done!"
"I love paperwork!" his dad cried enthusiastically, pulling his mom out the door.
"You kids stay safe in there!" his mom called back to them.
Then the door shut.
The silence was deafening after the whirlwind that was their parents. Jazz was still standing next to Danny, but her hands were bunched into the bottom of her shirt, her eyes boring a hole into the floor.
"So..." Danny said, trying to break the silence. He wanted to move his arms, but with the bandages on one hand and the needle in the other, he figured that was a bad idea. Instead he bent forward, trying to catch his sister's eyes.
Oh no. Bad idea.
Danny shot back into the bed, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the vertigo to pass.
"Danny!" Jazz cried out in alarm. He felt her cold hands grip his arm, and he focused on them, tried to ground himself in the only sensation that wasn't spinning.
"Do you want me to call a nurse or something?" Jazz's hands loosened on his arm.
He thought about shaking his head, but decided that would be a bad idea, too. "No, I'm fine," he grunted out. "Just vertigo, it'll pass."
Jazz's hands settled on his arm, and Danny settled into the bed, riding out the tilt-a-whirl the world had become. When everything finally stopped spinning, he opened his eyes, carefully turning his head to look at Jazz.
Jazz was looking at him with worry on her face, but the moment he caught her eyes, she let go of his arm and turned her head down again, biting her lip. Danny sighed heavily.
"You know, I'm not gonna shatter or anything. It's just a concussion."
Jazz looked up, staring at him incredulously. "Just a concussion? And just lacerations that required stitches and just bruises and just a broken and burned hand and—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Danny rolled his eyes. Then shut them as another wave of dizziness overtook him.
"Still not gonna shatter," he gritted out.
"You sure you don't want me to—"
"I'm fine, Jazz." Danny waved a hand in her general direction. "I don't think some nurse sticking a light in my eyes is gonna help anything."
There was a pause as Danny got his bearings. Then he heard Jazz shuffle in place, her hands digging into her shirt again. She was going to stretch it if she kept up that habit.
"Sorry," she whispered. Danny opened his eyes, glancing at her.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for."
Jazz turned around, pacing between the door and the bed, glaring at the floor.
"It's my fault you got a concussion, and it's my fault Spectra did what she did to you."
"Jazz, it's not—"
"No, it is!" She stopped mid-pace, fists by her sides, eyes glaring through him, glaring vivid green.
"I should have found out about them sooner! If I had, then you wouldn't have— and who knows what sort of psychological damage those monsters did to you!" Jazz then turned back to her pacing, throwing her hands in the air. "And to the whole student body! They're not psychologists! They used psychological tools sure, but they used them monstrously and to the detriment of everyone they touched! They..."
Danny was frozen while Jazz went on her tirade. His mind was whirring, trying to process what he had seen. He knew his sister's eyes like he knew the back of his hand, and the toxic green irises that illuminated her face were not them.
Nevertheless, they were familiar.
Jazz's hair began to float around her head as if lightning were about to strike, and Danny felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rise in response. Memories fractured by pain and disorientation bubbled up in his mind. Jazz's face above him, hair spread like a wildfire around her head, eyes burning green with worry. And another face, illuminated blue by the light of the thermos. Teeth bared in a grimace. Eyes aflame with determination.
"... and she said horrible things to Janet about their gender, I've never seen them so upset and uncertain! And I bet she's the reason why Johnny Barker ran out of class when Oedipus came up, she probably filled his head with Freud even though Freud's been largely disproven—"
"You're the ghost girl."
Jazz paused in her pacing, turning to face Danny. "Well, yeah. You saw me, right? Before— well— you saw me transform and—"
"Get out of her."
Danny had pushed himself into a sitting position, had felt his face harden into a glare.
"Wait, what?"
Her hair fell around her and her eyes blinked from toxic green to their familiar blue in her surprise. That didn't fool him, though— Mom and Dad had said ghosts could hide in anyone. This was no different, except that it was his sister, and it was the ghost girl. His hands curled into fists. Or at least, they tried to, before the bandages and splints stopped his left and the pain from the needle stopped his right.
"You saved me, so I'm not going to call Mom and Dad. But you need to get out of my sister, and you need to leave."
"Danny, it's me!"
"What do you mean, 'it's me'?" He scoffed. He wanted to cross his arms. He settled for pressing his hands into the bed instead.
"You're the ghost girl, and you're possessing my sister, and you need to leave her alone!"
"Danny, I'm Jazz! The ghost girl is Jazz is me!"
"Yeah?" Danny raised an eyebrow. He could do that much, at least. "Prove it. What did Jazz do to my dinosaur when she was four and I was five?"
"Dinosaur? What— oh, I know what you're talking about!" Jazz smirked, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. "First of all, it wasn't a dinosaur, it was your adorable bunbun. And second of all, I made it cuter is what I did! It was plain and white and boring, and I gave it some much needed color!"
Danny blushed. "You made him into an atrocity is what you did!"
"Did not! I gave it all the colors of the rainbow!"
"You colored his eyes red! It was creepy!" It was all he could do to refrain from waving his arms. Jazz had no such qualms.
"They turned pink when Mom put it through the wash! It was cute!"
"You mean creepy, because those eyes were lopsided and weird and haunted my nightmares!"
"If I call Mr. Fluffy Munchkins creepy, will you admit I'm Jazz?"
"Fine!"
"Fine! It was creepy!"
"And you're definitely Jazz!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Great!"
"Wonderful!"
"Splendiforous!"
"Absitively Posolutely Splendtacular!"
There was a beat of silence as they glared at each other.
Then Jazz's face wobbled, and Danny snorted, and they both broke down in laughter.
Danny couldn't help it— the whole situation was ridiculous. Here he was, trapped in a hospital bed, arguing with his sister over whether or not she'd turned his stuffed animal into a creepy monster and whether or not she was a ghost who had saved him from a creepier monster.
Oh man. His sister was a ghost.
His laughter took on a hysterical edge, but Jazz made no comment. Her laughter was bordering on hysteria as well, now that he thought about it.
But he needed this— they both needed this— a good long laugh, after everything they'd been through, after everything that monster had done.
As his laughter died down to a chuckle, he felt lighter, despite the dull ache of his torso. He watched with a smile as Jazz wiped a tear from her eye, her own chuckles subsiding as she looked at him.
He sighed, flopping down onto the bed. Then he pushed himself back up into a sitting position, carefully turning his head to face Jazz.
"So... how does that work? Are you d— are you a ghost?"
She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. After a moment, she said quietly, "I... don't really know. I have a heartbeat when I'm human, so I don't think I'm dead, but... well, you've seen my other form." She looked up at him, quirking a smile despite the uncertainty in her eyes. "I'm basically a ghost in that form. I glow and float and can do ghost things when I'm a ghost. Oh, and I can do some of them when I'm human, too!" She raised her right hand, which faded out of visibility.
Danny's eyes widened in shock. It was one thing to half-remember his sister's glowing green eyes and floating hair; still another thing to see them when he was awake and lucid; but it was another thing entirely to see her do something ghostly on purpose, to watch as her hand faded to nothing. He reached out towards where he thought her hand was, and she took a step forward, putting her hand in his.
It was cool to the touch, but unmistakably a hand, palm squishing under his thumb. He pulled her hand towards him; adjusted his grip so that her fingers curled under his own.
Then he carefully uncurled her middle finger.
"Hey!" she cried, hand blinking visible as she pulled it back. He laughed at her expression, and at the incredulous tone in her voice.
"You know I had to!" he chuckled.
"Rude!" she pouted, sticking her tongue out. But she couldn't hold back a smile as she did so, the corners of her mouth fighting and losing against themselves to stay down.
He poked her in the cheek, and she finally let go and giggled. "You're so immature!"
"Well, someone's gotta be, with you being Miss Mature Smarty Pants over there!"
But Jazz looked back down at her shoes again.
"If I had been smarter, I could've saved you before she did that to you," she muttered. Danny could read the self-loathing in his sister's voice, and it broke his heart. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug.
"Jazz, you are the smartest person I know. If you hadn't figured it out, no one would've, and I'd have been a goner."
He felt Jazz shudder. She pulled away from him a bit, distraught eyes staring into his own. "You almost died! If I had found you any later she would have— and the concussion, that was my fault, I shouldn't have hit you so hard— I'm just some loser freak, and I can't even save my own brother right and—"
Danny covered her mouth. He stared hard into her eyes, which had begun to leak.
"You're not a freak. And you're not a loser. You're a person with superpowers, which is pretty cool in my book! You're, like, the coolest person I know, and that was even before I knew you had superpowers." He smiled at her, removing his hand and putting it on her shoulder. "And because you're a person, you're not gonna be perfect, no matter how much of a perfectionist you are. It doesn't matter when you figured it out— what matters is that you did, and you saved me when you did. I don't care about the concussion— a lot worse would have happened if you hadn't found me."
His sister stared at him, tears still falling from her eyes, bottom lip trembling. Then she sobbed and lunged at him, hugging his torso and burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. He held back a groan and held her tight, pulling his right arm as far as it would go and wrapping his left around her. He buried his head into hair, shutting his eyes. After a few moments, he was surprised to find it wet. He opened his eyes again, and his sight was blurry.
Crying. He was crying.
He shut his eyes again, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths.
He was alright. Jazz was alright. Everything was going to be alright.
"Hey Jazz," he whispered after a few moments of holding each other close.
"Yeah?" Her voice was still damp with tears.
"Thanks. For everything."
She chuckled wetly.
"No problem, big bro."
*~*~*
Danny supposed the very first thing that should have tipped him off was the accident itself. He'd never forget the sight of his little sister sprawled before the swirling, pulsing mass of green that wasn't there before, red hair covering her face, almost glowing white in the green light coming from the portal that had only ever been a sparking hole in the wall beforehand. He heard someone scream her name. Blinked and he was halfway down the stairs. Blinked again and he was kneeling in front of her, legs aching, throat raw. His hands shook as he moved the hair from her face, and he forced them to still as he held one of them in front of her nose and mouth, holding his breath as he waited for a sign of life—
There! Only just noticeable, but unmistakably there, a small exhale of air from her nose tickling his palm. He could have sobbed with relief, but he wasn't done yet, her foot was inside that toxic radioactive green, and her arm— her arm was— he couldn't look away, could only stare at the raw flesh blistering in fractal patterns up her arm, disappearing at the shredded shoulder of her jumpsuit, why was she in her jumpsuit she said she wouldn't be caught dead in that thing oh god please don't die—
And suddenly he was shoved aside, heart pounding in his ears, pulsing out of tune with the light of the portal. He blinked and saw his parents, his dad a mass of orange clashing with the pulsing green, cradling Jazz in his lap; his mom a slip of teal blue and black, gently caressing the injured arm before turning to Danny and yelling something he couldn't process over the pounding in his ears. He blinked and his mom had disappeared, his dad standing up, his sister still cradled in his dad's arms. He blinked again and he was walking up the stairs, following the mass of orange in front of him, leaving that toxic pulsing glow in the basement behind him.
He blinked again and heard sirens, loud in his ears, how had he missed them approaching; saw the kitchen awash in cycling blues and reds and whites. His dad was carrying his sister to the door, to a bunch of people in uniforms, to the ambulance he could see just beyond his dad's hulking figure. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, they don't bring ambulances for dead people—
He blinked again. He was in a waiting room, sitting between his dad, who was glaring a hole in the wall and tapping a divot into the floor with his foot; and his mom, who was chewing on her lip, worrying her hand through Danny's hair. Danny leaned into his mom, closing his eyes, letting the feeling of her fingers gently untangling the knots in his hair wash over him.
He saw his sister, sprawled on the ground, pulsing green light casting her in a sickly glow, fractal blisters climbing up her arm—
Danny tensed, eyes shooting open, pulling away from his mom.
"Honey, are you okay?" she asked in a hushed tone, resting her hand on his shoulder.
Danny nodded. He tried to speak, choked, cleared his throat. Tried again. The words came out in a hoarse whisper.
"Will Jazz be okay?"
His dad's foot paused, and then tapped a little harder, a little faster. His mom's hand on his shoulder tightened.
"She's in the ICU. We have to wait for the doctor, but— we don't know, sweetie." Her voice wobbled. "I'm sorry, but we don't know."
Danny's eyes blurred. He blinked, rubbed at them, and was surprised to find tears. His mom wrapped an arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. His dad turned and engulfed them both in a hug, burying his head into Danny's hair. A sharp pain squeezed his chest, and suddenly he was sobbing, unable to keep back the flood of emotion coursing through him. He couldn't quite process it all, but there was one thought on his mind, echoing in his head: Please don't die.
Please don't die.
*~*~*
"I'm going to school! Bye!"
Danny heard the front door slam as he dug into his scrambled eggs. Today was a rare day when his parents were between projects. His mom made the best scrambled eggs (when she wasn't testing some new ecto-powered appliance): mixed with parmesan cheese and pico de gallo, and spiced and cooked to perfection. He was going to savor this breakfast.
Or at least, he would have, if he hadn't caught sight of Jazz's Fenton thermos on the table.
Danny nearly choked on his mouthful of eggs, but he quickly swallowed it. Shoveling the rest of the eggs on his plate into his mouth, he got up from the table, snagging the thermos in one hand and his backpack in the other. If he was fast enough, he could catch her before she took off–
"Danny, what's the hurry?"
He turned around in the doorway to see his mom poking her head out of the kitchen, a slice of toast in hand.
"I–"
"Danny! Chew and swallow before you talk to anyone, young man!"
Danny swallowed the large clump of eggs in his mouth. So much for savoring his breakfast.
"I need to give Jazz her— her lunch! She forgot it!"
"But—"
"Okay Mom going to school now love you bye!"
Danny turned around and ran out the door, slamming the door shut and jumping down the steps. He hoped he wouldn't get a lecture later.
He glanced down the street and caught sight of Jazz flying away from him, hair and ghostly tail whipping back and forth in the breeze. He ran towards her, waving his hand in the air.
"Hey Ja— Phantom! Hey Phantom!"
Despite her distance from him, Jazz stopped and turned around. She flew down to the street, looking around before transforming, her tail splitting into legs a few feet above the ground. Danny marveled at the ease with which she transformed in front of him. Only a month ago she had been reluctant to transform in front of him, even when they were alone. Now, as long as no one who didn't know was around, it came as natural to her as breathing.
Jazz alit on the asphalt completely human, running a couple steps before coming to a stop and frowning up at him.
"Danny, what are you doing?" she hissed. "You can't just shout my name in the middle of the street!"
"First of all, I didn't shout your name, I almost shouted your name. There's a difference. Second of all, you forgot your thermos."
Her eyes widened in surprise as he handed her the thermos. "Oh, uh, thanks!"
"No problem, sis."
They walked together in comfortable silence for a bit. Jazz frowned at the sidewalk, muttering under her breath. Something about... signs? And co-signs? And tans... Oh, he knew what this was about.
"You've got a math test today, right? How'd studying for that go?"
Jazz continued to mutter under her breath before answering him, still staring at the sidewalk.
"Pretty good, actually. Spike's been helping me a lot, he's really good at math. Says he might be a math teacher or a professor someday."
"Cool. Maybe you'll see each other at the same university some day!"
They stopped at the end of the block, waiting for Danny's friends to join them before they walked the rest of the way to school. There were a few cars passing by. An old lady was walking her dog on the other side of the street.
"Oh, I doubt it," Jazz said, looking up at Danny. "I'm going to Stanford, and he's set his sights on—"
Jazz gasped. Her face turned upwards and her eyes searched the sky. Danny, meanwhile, searched the street for somewhere to hide, somewhere she could transform and not be seen. The nearest alleyways were usually occupied, they'd learned that the hard way. If they wanted an alley that probably didn't have anyone in it, they'd have to run half a block—
Wait, there! There were Sam and Tucker, making their way down Birch Road, talking animatedly. He saw Sam punch Tucker in the arm, and Tucker grab his arm in (probably) mock hurt before pushing Sam. Danny grabbed Jazz's arm and booked it towards them.
"What— hey!" Jazz cried, stumbling before turning around and keeping pace with him.
"Hey guys! Group hug!" Danny shouted down the street. Sam and Tucker turned their heads to him before running towards them as they processed what he'd said.
"Danny, what are you— oh!" Jazz spotted Sam and Tucker, and raced ahead of Danny to meet them.
They all four met in the middle of the sidewalk, Jazz running into Sam and Tucker's embrace before being glomped from behind by Danny. When she was sure she was covered, she transformed, rings of light hidden by her brother and their friends. She then slipped invisible and intangible, the only sign of her a cold spot in between them— one which left them with a quickly whispered "Thanks, guys!"
The trio held onto the hug for a moment more, only letting go when Jazz turned visible in the sky, searching for her quarry.
"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"
Jazz groaned, turning around to face the ghost.
"Come on, Crate Creep! If you ruin my no tardy streak, I'm leaving you in the thermos for a week!"
"YOUR PUNY NON-BOX-LIKE CYLINDRICAL CONTAINER CANNOT CONTAIN—"
Jazz threw an ectoblast at him.
The Box Ghost gulped and fled, Jazz chasing after him.
Danny smiled up at them, shaking his head. It was just the Box Ghost. She could handle it.
"Do you think she does that on purpose?" Sam asked, pointing towards Jazz with her thumb as the trio continued their walk to school.
"Does what on purpose?" Danny asked, glancing at Sam.
"Oh, you know," Tucker said, pulling out his PDA. "Call the Box Ghost 'Crate Creep' and Skulker 'Ghost X' and all that j—"
"Tucker, finish that sentence and I will hit you."
Danny laughed as Tucker dodged from Sam's reach. "I think she just doesn't want to admit she was wrong about their names. Either that, or she likes the names she came up with for them more than the names they came with."
"Well, you gotta admit, 'Lady Lunchabelle' has a certain ring to it that 'The Lunch Lady' lacks," Tucker quipped.
They all three nodded seriously, before breaking into laughter.
Then Sam said, "Have you seen the trailer for that new superhero movie? I know it's normally not my thing, but the protagonist was so cool! She..."
And so the three of them continued, their discussion moving from superhero movies to movies with secret identities to secret identities in general. They were crossing Elm Street when the topic turned to Jazz's secret identity.
"How did it take you so long to figure out your own sister?" Sam asked Danny, lightly shoving him in the arm. "I figured her out within the first week!"
"Yeah, dude, it only took me like two weeks to find out— she 'becomes ghostly' everywhere." Tucker tapped a few buttons on his PDA, before looking up at Danny. "She's lucky she has me to scrub all the security cameras!"
Danny winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I should talk to her about that."
Sam continued as if Danny hadn't spoken. "It took you over a month to figure it out, and only because she told you! You gotta admit— you're pretty clueless when it comes to these things!"
Danny didn't respond. He rubbed the back of his hand— it was still rough from where he'd punched Bertrand, but he was familiar with it now— familiar with the way it dipped and whorled around his knuckles. He thought about Jazz's eyes— both their teal blue, and their glowing green. So different, yet both familiar to him now as well— both burned with the same curiosity, and both lit with laughter in the same way. Both meant his sister.
He thought about how her voice had echoed in the hallway the day she had gotten her first B, and the way it echoed in his head when she saved him from Spectra. He thought about how white her hair had seemed in the light of the portal, splayed limply around her head. And he thought about how white it was now, tied behind her head but flickering like fire, as she floated across the sky, giving them a wave before flying in the direction of school.
"Danny? You okay?" Sam put a hand on his shoulder, and he started.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just thinking." He chuckled, watching as his sister did a vertical loop in the sky. "I am pretty clueless, aren't I?"