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Chapter Text

The Fentons had seen a lot of things.  They’d witnessed an outraged spirit in a hair net litter the schoolyard with T-bones, ribeyes, and sausage links; beaten back Yiddish vultures from their repeated attempts to raid their weapons vault; and led an assault against the Wisconsin ghost in the midst of a wild sock hop gone awry.  This isn’t even half of it, but the point is none of that stuff could have possibly prepared them for the footage they viewed with patently bewildered NASA scientists and three equally confused GIW higher ups.  The latter group periodically voiced a chorus of questions as the recorded video feed progressed.

“What is he doing?” 

“Why would he do that?” 

“How the heck did he even get there?”

“As you can see,” concluded GIW’s Director Hamilton, gesturing to the screen, “We need answers, and since you’re the ectologists with the most data on this specimen…perhaps you could propose some sort of explanation?”

“Let me put it like this.  When you arranged this meeting, I was expecting anything other than what we’re seeing now.  I mean, what reason could Phantom possibly have to be haunting the International Space Station ?”  Jack flung his hands in the air.  “I absolutely get why you thought he was an alien at first; sometimes, we’re this close to believing that.”

Maddie pinched the bridge of her nose.  “He’s a pain, that’s what he is.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“Disproving our theories.  Displaying nonsensical behaviors.  Being the outlier of all outliers in months of research.  I mean, look at him floating there!  Eighty-two percent of the ghosts that emerge from the portal feed on alarm pheromones.  It’s in their best interests to frighten the populace, but he isn’t doing anything remotely eerie.”

“He did move one astronaut’s drink clear across the gymnasium,” countered Agent K.  

“Yes, but your field agents have verified the recurrent observations about his ability to understand humor.”  She sighed.  “Let’s backtrack a little.  Dr. Sellers, where did you say he spends the most time?”

“He’ll sit in the Cupola for hours,” the graying scientist answered, cleaning his glasses.  

“The what?”

“That area with the large bay windows.  It shows the view of outer space, earth, and the other components of the ISS.”  He fast-forwarded to another time and date.  “The clip I think is the most interesting was filmed there…let’s see what your opinion is.”

The Fentons watched as the ghost materialized in the observation area, drifted towards the window, and pressed his hands to the glass.  For the next half hour, he peered into the limitless expanse of space, occasionally taking breaks to draw faces in the fog his breath left against it—

“Pause it.”  Maddie leaned over Sellers’ shoulder, scrutinizing the image with a hawk-like glare.  “That…that shouldn’t be.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Imagine this: it’s a cold day, you’re standing near a window, and the water vapor you exhale condenses into liquid when it touches the cool surface.”  She ran a hand over her face.  “Ghosts move air in and out of their ‘bodies’ in order to make sound.  A handful of them occasionally mimic the motions of breathing for short periods of time.  But ectoplasmic entities don’t actually require oxygen.”

“What are you getting at?”

“This image is presenting us with a series of problems.  For one, he’s inhaling and exhaling in a consistent manner.  Secondly, for all his fascination with the observatory, he’s  ventured outside the ISS once for a period of 16 seconds.  That was file #23, correct?”

“Mads, that doesn’t prove that he needs to breathe,” Jack said, a puzzled expression on his face.  “It’s probably another one of his quirks…”

“There’s a way to find out, dear.  Dr. Sellers, would you mind pulling up the feed from the ICI infrared camera?  It can detect the presence of carbon dioxide in the ambient air.”

He consented, producing the requested files within minutes.  When he selected the required documentation, the group watched as the area by the ghost’s upper body intermittently turned bright shades of red.  “What does this mean?” he asked, fidgeting with the computer mouse.

“It means he’s performing some form of gas exchange.”

“You haven’t seen the oddest thing,” Sellers added.  “Wait for it…here!”

“Oh, he’s moving around now, and—wait, what’s that in his hand?”

“It’s a model space shuttle.  In a moment, he’ll start reciting bits and pieces of the official transcript from the moon landing.  He even does sound effects.”  For the next few minutes, they observed Amity Park’s resident Phantom gliding easily around the ceiling of the Cupola, releasing his miniature spaceship to float in the zero-gravity environment while narrating the scenes in his mind.  

“This is Apollo-Saturn launch control.  T-61 minutes and counting - T-61 minutes on the Apollo 11 countdown, and all elements are GO at this time.  Astronaut Neil Armstrong has just completed a series of checks on that big service propulsion system engine that sits below him in the stack…”

“This is unbelievable,” Jack uttered.  “How many ghosts have we seen actually play ?”

“The cosmonauts couldn’t wrap their heads around it, either.  Davidson and Pierre actually heard him talking to himself in the multipurpose laboratory module, then remembered all the times they’ve mysteriously found the tools they need for their repairs within easy reach.  None of them have ever seen him, but they call him ‘E.T.’”  

On the screen, the ghost hung upside-down in mid-air, propelled the rocketship across the room, and produced a noise similar to the crackling of a radio before launching into more dialogue.  “Well, we didn’t have much time, Houston, to talk to you about our view out the window, so…we had the entire northern part of the lighted hemisphere visible including North America, North Atlantic, and Europe and Northern Africa.”

“Well, I’ll be.”  Jack folded his arms, tapping his chin.  “We’ll have to summarize this in a case study.” 

“More importantly, how can we expel a ghost from a 150 billion dollar spacecraft before it causes any damage?” asked Maddie.  “Even a small entity could wreak havoc up there, and his readings have increased to 7.53 on the power scale.”

“Hold on a moment,” Dr. Sellers interjected.  “As seen in file #23, Phantom deflected a 100-pound mass of space debris that threatened to damage the European Robotic Arm.  That little intervention could have saved 150,000 dollars.”

“What are you saying?”

“This ghost hasn’t done any harm.  On the contrary, he seems to be making himself useful.  If we could communicate with him…give him a directive…run some experiments…”

Maddie blinked, then took a step backward.  “NASA wants to interact with this ghost?  The number one cause of property damage in Amity Park?  His motivations are conflicted at best and destructive at worst.”

“That isn’t what your town’s social media feed shows,” he answered in a light, conversational tone.  “The Space Technology Missions Directive and the Department of Defense have elected to see if it is possible to interview a humanoid ghost.  Since the GIW and yourselves have no explanation for these appearances, we were wondering if you would help us acquire a more direct response.”

“Doesn’t this violate the Anti-Ecto Act?”

“Negative.  A temporary subpoena has been added to the document that grants Phantom limited immunity to the usual policies—provided that he cooperates.  I personally criticized the motion, but in light of his popularity with the general public…”  Director Hamilton frowned.  “I digress.  Drs. Fenton, if you assist us in bringing him in, we’ll ensure that you receive full compensation and ample opportunities to observe an anomaly up close.”

The two scientists looked pensively at each other.  

“What do you think, Mads?”

“I don’t see how we can pass up an offer like that,” she answered.  She pressed a hand to her temple in thought.  “Where and how do you plan to do this ‘interview’?”

“Axiom Labs.  There’s a newly constructed wing there with ecto-proof walls, a proper security system, and a panic room.  The interviewer will be armed with a concealed Specter Deflector, portable ghost shield, and Ghost Pepper Spray.”

Maddie grinned.  “I do like seeing our work put to good use.  The difficulty will lie in capturing, containing, and transporting the ghost to that area.  I mean, we can’t exactly walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, Phantom, are you free for a couple hours?’”

“Why not?  Nothing else has worked,” Jack said.  

“Ha, ha, very funny, dear…”

The Fenton Assault Vehicle rolled into the park at a quarter past ten, seeming oddly small without the excessive array of weaponry projecting from the roof.  Maddie perched at the wheel; Jack occupied the shotgun position; and Agent K, Agent J, and Dr. Sellers sat in the back seats.  Their eyes roved over the dashboard, which displayed several flickering red dots on a radar device; the sighting of Phantom fighting against a series of animalistic ghosts had been no false alarm.  Glistening green blasts of energy shot above the treeline like fireworks; yelling, howling, and screeching echoed through the clearing.  

As the group drew closer, however, the disruptions became less periodic and the number of ectosignatures decreased.  By the time Maddie pulled onto the grass at the scene of the spat, Phantom was placing the cap on the FentonThermos with an air of finality, crouching in a recovery position.  His back was turned to them.  Seeing an opportunity,  she slipped a Fenton Phone in her ear and exited the vehicle, creeping across the damp ground with the hunter’s tread she had adopted over the past two years.

When she was within twenty feet of him, he froze.  The aura dimmed, his outline faded at the edges, and his breathing quieted.  He knew something was up; it was now or never.  She cleared her throat.  “Good evening.”

He whirled around at breakneck speed, neon eyes reflecting in the faint glow of the nearest street lamp.  “Mo—Dr. Fenton!  I’m not doing anything, I’ll be on my way now—”  His outline partially melted into the darkness as though he was considering one of his famous disappearing acts.  

“Wait.  We have a proposition for you.”  The words slid into the night air like someone else was saying them; the tone sounded almost foreign.  It was evident from the ghost’s visible confusion that this more neutral demeanor had also caught him by surprise.  Instead of bolting immediately, he hovered in place, his eyes flickering from her to the waiting FAV.  

“What’s going on?  Where’s the bazooka?”

“It’s locked in the trunk with all the other heavy-duty equipment.”  She took a deep breath, rehearsing her mental script.  “I’ll get right to the point.  The scientific community has questions, you have answers.  We’d like to have a civil conversation…somewhere private, of course.  If you accompany us to Axiom Labs, we can—”

“Whoa, whoa.  You know how suspicious that sounds, right?  I mean, you’ve never tried to hide your ambition to dissect me as soon as you catch me.  It’s really stupid of me to still be standing here.”

“If you think that, then why aren’t you somewhere else already?”

“I don’t know, alright?  You haven’t pulled out an ectogun yet, so I’m kinda hoping you meant what you said about wanting to actually talk.”  He crossed his arms across his chest.  “Ask me anything you’d like, but I don’t plan on going with you anywhere tonight.”

Maddie nodded, listening to the crackling voice of Agent K in her ear.  “It’s a start.  You have clearance to proceed.”

“That seems fair, Phantom.  Let’s start with the most pressing inquiry.”  She braced herself.  “Why do you appear at the International Space Station?  The NASA technicians weren’t expecting to see you on their tapes.”  

She hadn’t thought it was possible for him to get paler, yet he succeeded in defying her expectations.  He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, shifting from one foot to the other.  “Um…how did they see me at all?  I’m always invisible there so that I don’t show up on the public live feed.”

“Some graduate students were interested in seeing whether space contains any free ecto energy, so we loaned them a prototype lens that allows the user to see traces of it when viewing original recordings.  I imagine they were shocked at the results.”

“Oh.  I don’t bother anyone up there, okay?  I’ve always wanted to go to space, that’s all.   Where else can you look out the window and see the actual solar system?  Plus, it’s fun to see what the astronauts are doing.  The maintenance they have to do on the machine parts is fascinating, not to mention their observations about how stuff works in zero gravity.  By the way, did you know that they spend a lot of their spare time watching movies?”  

It was amazing to see how fast a switch had flipped in his mind; as he spoke, his posture gradually relaxed.  Huh.  She might as well play along, then.  “Really?”

“Ha, ha, yeah!  Last time I was there, they were making their way through the Star Wars series.  It’s waaay different than in a regular theater, though.  The screen is on the ceiling, so they have to strap themselves in horizontally to look at it.  And all their popcorn is freeze-dried.”

“Hmm.”  Maddie nodded, though inwardly, her idea of him having a sinister underlying motivation wilted.  The excitement in his features seemed…genuine.  “I didn’t realize you were so interested in outer space.”

“It wouldn’t make any sense for me to parade around town and yell, ‘Pluto is a planet!’ at passersby, no matter how much I’d like to.  Besides, you never asked.”  He hovered a couple feet in the air, adopting a cross-legged position and resting his chin on his hands.  “What else did you want to know?”

“Unfortunately, there aren’t many inquiries I put forward outside of the testing environment.  We have adapted versions of the NEO Personality Inventory, a basic psychiatric evaluation, and a standard intelligence test.”

“I guess that doesn’t sound particularly painful or intrusive.”  Phantom drummed his fingers in his lap, eyes shifting side to side as he evaluated her statement.  “...I’d be more open to doing that stuff if it was in the library or something.  Axiom Labs has all these partnerships with DALV, the GIW, and private ghost hunters, so from my perspective, it’s the creepiest place around…apart from your laboratory, that is.  Also, I can’t go near the building without feeling guilty about Mr. Grey.”

“I remember there being an incident there.  Why don’t you explain what happened?” Maddie probed, heart quickening.  She could hear the agents muttering to each other through the Fenton Phone, so he must have caught their attention as well.  “Who is Mr. Grey?”

“Oh…he used to be the head of the company’s occupational safety division.  The way I understand it, he got the CEO to invest in a super expensive anti-ecto security system that he designed himself.  Problem was, the business put down all their guard dogs when it was finally installed.”  His face fell.  “One of them sorta became a ghost and wouldn’t stop following me around until I took him back to the empty kennel to get his favorite chew toy.  You know what happened…we set off the alarms, the technology didn’t work the way it was supposed to, and Mr. Grey was fired.  He’s having trouble making ends meet because of me.”

“I’ve never heard a ghost explicitly show remorse.”  The sentence was out of her mouth before she’d had time to consider it.  She tensed, anticipating a negative reaction; when he offered none, she cautiously continued.  “We’re curious to understand what makes you so different from everything else that comes out of the portal.”

This time, she knew that she had made a grave error.  The temperature dropped several degrees as Phantom stiffened.  Before Maddie could identify her mistake, he’d vanished within the time frame of a blink.  She sighed, lowered her hood, and wiped her forehead.  Jack pulled the FAV forward to meet her and waved supportively, a mixture of excitement and confusion on his face. 

“You were fantastic out there, honey.”

“Thanks…I’m not sure what went wrong, though.”

“Nothing went ‘wrong’,” Dr. Sellers interjected in a pleased voice, polishing his glasses.  “You are the first ghost hunter to have a non-hostile, face-to-face interaction with Phantom.  I’d say that’s quite an accomplishment.  And who knows?  This encounter may lead to similar ones in the future, which is precisely what we wanted.” 

“I wasn’t convinced about this idea at first,” Maddie admitted.  “However, this experiment defied so many of my expectations…I’m excited to see whether we can get more information this way.”

“Me too!  Maybe one day the kid can tell me how he manages to disappear from our tracking devices.  See, he’s gone!”  Jack jabbed his pointer finger at the radar, which was mysteriously blank.  “You win this round, E.T.”  

Chapter Text

The first time Danny encountered them, they were clustered around a spilled beaker of ectoplasm in the FentonWorks laboratory, lapping at the cakey green goop like cats around a saucer of milk.  The sight of the little group caused him to jump in surprise as he caught a glimpse of them from the bottom of the darkened staircase.  He hadn’t been expecting company, and he had no idea whether the green, fist-sized blobs were benevolent.  Upon noticing him, they squeaked and flitted about in an anxious manner.  When Danny made no sudden moves, however, the six ghosts gradually transitioned from zooming around the ceiling to hovering over the stain in their original positions.  

“What the heck are you?” he said aloud, creeping forward with a heart-fluttering sensation of anticipation.  At first, the ghosts seemed disturbed at his approach, bobbing uneasily in the air.  “Hey, everything’s fine!”

His message seemed to have gotten across; as he raised a finger to gently prod the nearest blob, the boldest member of the group ducked to his hand to rub against it, emitting a high-pitched beep !  It sort of felt like cold gelatin.  “Huh.”  He patted it again, listening carefully to the gentle brrr sound it produced as a result.  In the meantime, the others drifted around his shoulders, tapping him with their faces.  “Does this mean you guys are friendly?”

Beep beep! came the universal reply.  He laughed, stroking the bravest blob’s round head with his index finger.  Soon, the others noticed the positive attention and crowded his hands, softly wiggling and pushing each other aside in their excitement.  One even latched onto his hair and vibrated with glee as it curled into a tighter ball.  His chest buzzed with contentment when one of them bumped against his cheek.  “Aw…I like you, too.”  Unconsciously, Danny’s gaze drifted to the sticky substance on the lab bench.  It smelled sweet and acidic…and oddly titillating.  

Abruptly, the front door slammed open upstairs, and the hurried crash of his father’s footfalls on the steps scared the tiny ghosts back into the swirling green portal.  The last one vanished just as Jack Fenton rounded the corner, bouncing with enthusiasm.  “Hey, son!  What’re you doing here?”

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure exactly why he’d entered the basement.  “Oh, um…I heard a noise,” he lied.  “What about you?”

“I forgot the formula for our newest invention somewhere around here.  Ah, there it is!”  He snatched up a tattered piece of notebook paper that was headed ‘Ghost Bait’.  “This has to be your mother’s cleverest idea yet!”

“Er…what is it?”

“Excellent question!  From the data in our trial runs, we’ve calculated that 82 percent of ghosts that emerge from that portal are attracted to the biochemical signature of fear.  Well, last week, Maddie said, ‘What motivates the other 18 percent?’  We tried leaving different stuff—low-intensity acoustic waves, ultraviolet lights, distilled ectoplasm, lemon bars—out on the lab tables, then set up a hidden camera to see whether any ghosts responded to the different stimuli.  Turns out, minor spectral entities liked the combination of citrus, sugar, and the ectoplasm!  Long story short, we’ve been using that information to cook up some ghost desserts.”

Danny supposed this wasn’t the nuttiest thing they’d done, but he still had some questions.  “Out of curiosity, what made you try lemon bars?”

“That’s an explanation for another day, m’boy.  I’ve got to hurry off now; your mother and I have some baking to do at Axiom Labs, and we’re already late!”  With that, he jogged out of sight, still clutching the recipe.  

There was a rumbling sound as the Fenton Assault Vehicle rolled out of the driveway and departed down the street.  When the sound faded, the blobs rematerialized into their former places around Danny.  As one affectionately nibbled his wrist, he turned his attention back to the peculiar smudge.  He suspected that it was a remnant of his parents’ most recent trial runs; why else would the blobs flock around it? Was that the reason he himself had wandered down there to begin with?  When that thought hit him, a twinge of anxiety surfaced in his chest.  

He hadn’t returned to the ISS since his mom had revealed that he’d been caught red-handed on video.  In fact, he’d avoided being seen in public as much as possible for three weeks straight.  Something about the government’s sudden interest in him made him shift with unease…and this new ‘Ghost Bait’ did nothing to help those feelings.  Danny wished he’d never learned to make portals to the space station, but he hadn’t seen the harm in just dropping in on occasion.  After all, it’d been the one place where he didn’t have to worry about ghosts, ghost hunters, or ghost ghost hunters (Skulker).  All that was over, and it’d been affecting him more than he’d thought; in his panic, he’d stripped the NASA posters from his bedroom wall, peeled each glowing star off his ceiling, and deleted the shuttle simulation on his laptop.  It felt like he’d lost an old friend.  

The friendliest blob burrowed into the crook of his elbow, looking up at him from strange, dot-like eyes.  Blep ?  He petted and squeezed it with utmost gentleness, reflecting on all he’d lost over the past couple years with an acute sense of grief.  Suddenly exhausted, he sat on the scuffed concrete floor and leaned against the broad side of the lab table, still entertaining his cloud of ghostly companions.  Their soft purring formed a soft, dull white noise that made him close his eyes a fraction at a time…

As he napped in the confines of FentonWorks, the aforementioned ghost hunters wiped flour, egg whites, and ectoplasm from their HAZMAT suits as Damon Grey watched on in confusion.  “You’re making ghost lemon bars in an industrial laboratory oven?” he asked, rubbing his chin.  “Why?”

“It has to do with that special project Mr. K was debriefing you about,” answered Jack, enthusiastically rubbing his hands together.  “The government’s interested in seeing whether Phantom could be useful in any of their research projects in space, high mountains, or the deep oceans.  Also, a representative from our local law enforcement pointed out how handy he’s been in complicated search and research operations.”

“Hold on a moment.  Isn’t this the ghost that attacked the mayor and committed all those robberies?” 

“We were uncertain about the whole thing for the same reasons, but then Agent Alpha borrowed our experimental Ecto-Detecto lens to see evidence of any other suspicious ghostly activity in various surveillance recordings of Phantom during those incidents.  You’ll never believe this, but upon review…”  Maddie paused to shake her head in amazement.  “We could clearly see the outlines of other hostile identities manipulating the scenes.  I don’t have the security clearance to go into detail, but the main point is that Director Hamilton has to seriously consider exculpating Phantom from the charges against him.”

The frown remained etched on Mr. Grey’s face.  “What about his intrusions onto these premises?”

Maddie explained the ghost’s story from their previous encounter.  “From the sound of it, the damage was unintentional.”

“Unintentional or not, the company lost over 2 million dollars, and I lost my position.  Can you please explain to me exactly why I was asked to come here?”

Jack seemed oblivious to the former executive’s irritated tone of voice.  “Two reasons!  One: Mads and I reviewed the plans of that security system, and we think the layout was brilliant.  It would’ve worked like a charm with the addition of a couple maximum-strength ghost shields and some coats of ecto-proof paint!  We’d like to buy your idea and hire you as a consultant for our production facilities.”

“Wha—are you serious?”  Mr. Grey’s arms, which had been folded stiffly against his chest, dropped to his sides.  

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, now would I?  If you’re open to it, we can go out for a bite after we’re done here and discuss it more.  Our treat, of course.”

“I—I don’t know what to say!”  Smile lines blossomed around his mouth and eyes.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t think about it, Mr. Grey.  Working with you would be our pleasure,” Maddie replied in a bright voice, pulling on a lurid green pair of oven mitts and removing three pans of their concoction from the oven.  “There’s still something else we have to ask, though.”

A subtle change in her voice caused his shoulders to tense.  “Is something wrong?”

“Not necessarily, it’s…well, when we were watching more recent footage from various street cams and home videos, um…the GIW traced the Red Huntress to your address.”

“Oh.”  His face transferred to a worried expression.  “You know about…?”

“We do now.  Sir, you raised a darn fine ghost hunter!”  Jack clapped him on the back with the force of an earthquake.  Mr. Grey braced himself against the lab table, straightening his collar.  

“Are there any problems with her activities?” he asked, nervously smoothing his tie.

“No, not at all!,”  answered Maddie, cutting the dessert into even rectangles.  “Valerie has a license and contract, modern gear, and real flair!  She’s a credit to you and Amity Park.  The thing is, the organizations involved with this Phantom project want a forensic psychologist, psychiatrist, and an ectobiologist to evaluate his mental status and behavioral patterns in a neutral testing environment.  However, he’s been uncharacteristically avoidant lately, so we’ll be setting up this Ghost Bait in the park tonight at 10:30 to try and facilitate his cooperation.  If he does show up, the appearance of the Red Huntress would jeopardize the experiment…”

“Oh, I see where you’re going with this.  I’ll make sure to let her know; I could tell her that you’re setting up a special operation there, and she’ll need to stay out of the way…I know!  I’ll also take her to the late showing of that new movie she’s been wanting to see.  That should work out.”  He grinned, watching the Fentons stack the bars into a plate.  “I don’t think I could possibly be more proud of my daughter than I am right now.”

“That’s wonderful!”  They offered him a pair of genuine smiles as they covered the Ghost Bait with a sheet of saran wrap, then removed their gloves and aprons.  

“Thank you for coming,” said Maddie, leading the way to the swinging door.  “We were thinking about Hillstone for lunch.  How does that sound to you?”

“Excellent.”  He glanced at their odd new invention as the plate sat innocently on the counter, glowing a gentle green.  “I hope your plan is a success.”

“So do we, Mr. Grey.  So do we.”

Danny ventured out on patrol that night feeling unusually well-rested.  As he flew through the star-lit sky, the blobs squeaked with joyful excitement from their spots on his head, shoulders, and back; his attempts to convince them to remain safely in his room had failed miserably, so he figured he’d suck them into a spare thermos for their own protection if he met any real danger in the dark.  The odd thing was that there seemed to be more ghosts around than usual.  Odder still, they seemed to have no interest in being a bother.  The assorted ectopi, wisps, and other blobs that sauntered by all glided in the same direction: towards the park.  With a sinking feeling, he remembered the Ghost Bait.  Even worse, he realized that wasn’t imagining the sensory pull of the stuff when he found himself at the park gate, having veered from his normal route entirely.  

“This can’t get any—”  A squabbling sound in the nearby trees broke off his sentence.  “I had to jinx it.”  He jogged towards the disturbance with his feet several inches above the lawn, shooing the blobs into the first knothole he found.  

“You stay there, now.  I’ll be back.  Promise.”  With that, he braced himself for whatever was ahead, feeling more and more confused as the general noise turned into a conversation.  

“You have to have heard of Tony Bennett!  He’s on the radio all the time!”

“Maybe he was fifty years ago, dipstick.  If you want to listen to some real music, try my latest cover album.”

“Ember?  Poindexter?”  Danny drifted into a clearing to find the two ghosts nose-to-nose, glaring daggers at each other from opposite sides of a carefully-arranged platter of luminescent lemon bars.  The smaller entities seemed content to sit at a respectable distance from them, happily nibbling bits and pieces of hastily snatched chunks of the treats.  “What’s going on?”

“Phantom, tell McClain that you picked Fly Me to the Moon on the jukebox at the Soda Fountain,” Poindexter demanded, pulling him forward by the wrist.  

“What is he going on about?” the rockstar laughed, hands on her hips.  

“Uh…”  Danny rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face blush vivid green.  “He said he was missing the fifties, so I may or may not have found an authentic soda shop in Humboldt Park…”

“It was a ball!  I haven’t had that much fun since the homecoming dance in ‘52.”  Poindexter elbowed Danny in the side, grinning with abandon.  “The halfa actually knows how to make a panic-and-a-half once in a while.”

“Translation, please?” Ember snorted.  

For Sidney’s sake, Danny resisted the impulse to bury his face in his hands.  “...He says that occasionally, he finds my jokes amusing.”

“Ha!  This is priceless!  You’re even more of a dork than I thought.”  She doubled over with her hands on her knees, fiery hair flickering higher with mirth.  “Just wait ‘til I tell Kitty.”

“You’re just jealous because you’ve only written one original song compared to Mr. Bennett’s six.” 

As soon as Poindexter had said the words, he appeared to regret them; Ember’s eyes flashed as she brandished her guitar.  “You take that back!”

“Now, now, that’s no way to behave,” scolded a gentle, creaking voice. The Lunch Lady materialized behind her, patting her on the shoulder with a motherly air. “Let’s not cause a disturbance at this time of night.  Will you pass me one of those, dear?”

Still looking scandalized, Ember complied.  The kindly old woman divided it in two with a plastic knife, then handed one half to Danny, who was so surprised that he took it.  “There you are!  You’re looking undernourished.  Even half-ghosts need to keep their strength up.”

“Huh?”

“You’re getting enough ambient ectoplasm in your diet, aren’t you?” she asked sweetly.  

Danny’s brain turned ice cold with horror.  “I’m supposed to be…eating ectoplasm?”

“See?  He is funny sometimes!”  Poindexter lifted his head triumphantly.  The old woman released a tinkling laugh; even Ember chuckled.  

“I’m supposed to be eating ectoplasm?!”  His voice had risen to a pitch he hadn’t realized was possible.  

“Stop being silly and finish that dessert,” the Lunch Lady chided. 

Danny stared at the vanilla frosting covering his fingers.  The strong, sweet, fruity odor of the cake portion also seemed tempting, despite the glowing.  Yet…he’d gone months and months seeing the bright red jugs of gleaming ectoplasm slapped with the ‘TOXIC’ label; his parents had warned him time and again to wash his hands before eating after he’d cleaned the lab; and their attempts to use ecto energy in their cooking had always gone terribly awry, to say the least.  

“Look at his face!  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he wasn’t kidding.”  

This had to stop.  He sidestepped the Lunch Lady and set his portion back on the plate, thinking fast.  “I’ll pass, and you guys should too.  This stuff was made in the ghost hunter's lab, y’know.  I’m not sure what it’ll do to you.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?  I’m outta here,” Ember announced, immediately fading from sight.  The other two followed suit, and he knew that they were heading back to the swirling portal.  He sat on a nearby log, leaning his head against one hand.  Soon enough, his blobs rejoined him despite his injunctions.  As they licked the crumbs from his fingers and danced around the platter, he sighed.  What was he gonna do now?

“Will you be my friend?”  

The voice blared in his ear like a trumpet call at the crack of dawn.  “Ahhhhh!  Klemper, we’ve talked about this!”

“I just want to be your friend!” the pajama-clad spirit insisted, reaching out with blue, ice-cold hands.  

“Ugh, fine.  You want friends?  Here you go.”  Danny corralled the little blobs into his outstretched arms.  Rather than shying away from him, they fluttered around him like floating lanterns.  

“Friends!” he yelled in delight, snatching the remainder of the Ghost Bait and opening a portal to his frozen lair.  The little ghosts happily followed him through it like ducklings, beeping with curiosity.  One or two of them bumped Danny’s face in goodbye.  

“Come visit me, okay?” he said.  They seemed to understand.  With one last nuzzle, they leapt after Klemper just before his portal vanished in a flash of light.  Danny flopped on the ground with a sigh, running his hands over his forehead.  In the silence that followed the ghosts’ departure, he felt lonelier than ever.  He looked up into a night sky freckled with stars…and it hurt to know that he would never be so close to them again.  How could he feel marooned in his own hometown?  Even when he was with his best friends, his chest felt hollow.

“Phantom?”

At first, he recoiled; then he recognized the voice of his mother, who peered at him from the shelter of a mulberry bush.  He didn’t bother to leave his reclined position, not caring much that she had seen him.  What did she want now?  “Yes?”

“Do you remember our previous conversation?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve arranged for the location of the study to be the University of Urbana-Champaign, provided that one GIW field agent monitors the area.”

Despite his feeling of emptiness, an alarm went off in the back of his mind.  His body stiffened.  “That sounds too not convoluted for them.  Why would they agree to that?”

“Our concerns were related to previous allegations against you, but a more thorough review of the tapes from said incidents has shown that your actions were justified and/or not under your control.  It’s official: there are no verified instances of you having made an unprovoked attack on any resident of Amity Park—not even when your personal safety was in question.”

“Really?”  Danny sat up, turning around to look her in the eye.  “You finally believe me?”

It was hard to read her expression while she wore those protective red goggles, but he was relieved to see her nod with conviction.  “You should be aware that I’ve volunteered to be one of the proctors for your evaluation.  Is that acceptable to you?”

He wished she’d stop talking to him in that official tone, but his heart leapt nonetheless.  “Sure, that’s fine.”

Her head tilted ever so slightly.  “Can I ask you something?”

The uncertainty in her voice let him know that she had strayed off the government’s script.  “I don’t mind.”

His mom cleared her throat before voicing her next thought.  “That…wasn’t the answer I was expecting.  I’ve only interacted with you in a non confrontational way for a combined total of less than five minutes, and you seem to trust me, even though I actively pursued you for a long time.  Can you explain?”

“Well, you said it yourself.  You’ve been listening when I talk, you went back and actually looked at the things that happened without jumping to conclusions, and you’re not pointing the Jack O’ Nine Tails at me.”  He paused, thinking.  “I guess what I’m saying is: your attitude has changed so quickly that it’s hard to believe you’re just playing some kind of game with me.”

“Hmm.  That…makes sense.”  She tapped her chin in thought.  “Thanks for satisfying my curiosity.  Now, what dates and times are you available for testing?”

“I don’t have anything planned for weeks,” he answered honestly.  

“Okay.  We could start as early as this Thursday.  Full disclosure: the condensed version of the procedure usually takes around nine hours to complete.”

“Nine hours?”

“I know, it’s a lot.  The most standard way of administering the series is to do three hours over a period of three days.”  She hesitated, waiting for his response.  

“That seems fine,” he decided on the fly, taken aback by her willingness to negotiate.  “As long as there isn’t a ghost attack or something.  You know how it is.”

“Do I ever,” she smiled.  “We’d ideally start at around nine o’ clock in the morning, have a fifteen-minute break around eleven, and then finish at noon.  I have to ask: how would you prefer to get to the university?”

“Uh…good question.  I could appear in the ISS because I’d seen pictures of the inside, so I could visualize it with enough clarity to wind up there.  This is different.”

“Are you comfortable riding in a car?’

“Yeah, that works,” he answered, torn between relief and suspicion.  “As long as it isn’t, like, an unmarked white van with tinted windows.  Or the assault vehicle.”

“Noted.  Is it alright if Mr. Fenton and a member of the American Astronomical Society meet you here on Thursday morning, then drive with you to the designated location?  I know you haven’t met them on friendly terms yet, but I’ll need to arrive at the campus before eight in the morning to prepare the materials.  They’ve agreed to treat you peacefully and respectfully.”

“I’m okay with that,” he heard himself say.  “Thanks for everything.”

“...Oh!”  He could tell that he had managed to surprise her.  “You—you’re welcome, Phantom.  Have a good evening.”

Danny grinned in spite of himself.  “You too, Doc.”  He phased through the soft grass and emerged at the park entrance.  He stopped and stretched, then drifted into the air with no particular destination in mind.  On second thought, it wouldn’t hurt to fly home and settle into bed; it had been a very weird night.

Chapter Text

“Let me get this straight.  You’ve been secretly visiting the space station, the government and your parents caught you, and now you’re going to an ‘interview’ at your parents’ alma-mater university?”  Sam’s voice had risen several pitches during the tirade; he wouldn’t have been surprised if bats could hear it.  “What the heck, Danny?”

“It’s official, dude.  You really are a space case.”  Tucker facepalmed.  “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I’m tired, okay?  Do you think I like having to run from my own family’s ghost weapons while they yell curses at me?  It just…seemed like things would be different if I agreed.”  Danny stared at his shoes, avoiding the goth’s furious glare.  “I know you’re right, I know the Guys In White are probably doing stuff behind the scenes, I know it was a bad idea.”

“I can see why you did what you did, little brother,” Jazz folded her arms in her lap from her seat on the Fenton’s divan, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “If it were me, I’d be completely exhausted as well.  It’s natural that you would want to believe that they’ve learned what we’ve known the whole time: you’re a hero.”

“So you’re not gonna show up, are you?”

“...I’m not sure.”

“ Are you kidding me ?”

Jazz rose to her feet and gently separated them with her arms.  “Before this gets any more heated, I have something to tell you.  Over the past week, I’ve noticed Mom and Dad buckling down extra hard, packing a suitcase, and pre-making meals.  This morning, there was an atlas on the kitchen table flipped open to Florida.  I thought they were planning for another convention, but now I realize that they’re probably heading to the Kennedy Space Center…it must be about you.”

“So?” Sam huffed.

“So Danny should go with them.  Invisibly, of course.  That way, he can find out more about what’s really going on without putting himself in real danger.  If what he sees and hears matches up with everything he’s been through so far, then he can reasonably trust that no harm will come to him during whatever experiments they have in mind.  If not, he can stand them up without feeling guilty about it.”

“Jazz.  Jazz Fenton.  Ghost-getter number three.  This group has four brain cells and you’re using all of them.”  Tucker said this as he rummaged around his bag of technology, looking for something specific.  “Where is…ah!”  He triumphantly pulled out an odd-looking camera with a strip of temporary adhesive on the base.  

“Is that my parents’ prototype Ghost-Pro?”

“You bet!  I thought it’d come in handy one of these days.  When you get to the space center, just power it on and hit the ‘record’ button.  Then we’ll start receiving the feed on Sam’s computer.  We’ll experience everything you do in real time.  And after seeing the video, we can help you make a decision.”

Jazz nodded approvingly, but Sam scowled.  “Just so you know, I’m still not happy about this.” 

“Neither am I,” Danny answered, grimly accepting the device in his open hand.    

Neither of the siblings were surprised when their parents announced their unexpected leave of Amity Park that night.  “We’ll be leaving at seven in the morning tomorrow, but we should be back in two days.  You’ll be alright, won’t you?  There’s a casserole in the fridge, some money in the drawer, and we’ll keep our phones on.”  Maddie patted each of them fondly.  With a sense of anxiety, Danny thought of the Ghost-Pro that sat upstairs on his dresser. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie.  We’ll be back before you know it,” she assured him, misinterpreting his worried expression.

As soon as they had left the living room, Jazz gave him a supportive squeeze on the shoulder.  “You can do this.”

He hoped so.

It was a long way from a passing comment on their recording of the ghosts’ interaction around the lemon bars to a conference room in NASA’s Office of Planetary Protection.  Yet here the Fentons were, arranged at a round table with representatives from the science community, the United Nations, and the American government.  Twenty some individuals surrounded the Fentons with bespectacled noses, crisp suits, and laptops accompanied by oh-so-important flash drives with their presentations; they hailed from the Air Force Space Command, the Department of Defense, the UN’s Office of Outer Space Affairs, and the Atlantic Paranormal Society.  And from the most decorated general to the most prim and composed senior attorney, they all appeared to have been slapped upside the head with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick.  

“As you can see from the provided clips, we have a heavy dilemma to consider,” Dr. Sellers summarized, gesturing to the screen at the front of the assembly.  “We have a sentient, mid-power level ecto entity that displays critical thinking skills, advanced problem-solving, sustained and selective attention, communication proficiency, magnanimous behavior, and openness to experience not commonly seen in other ghosts that have been documented in Amity Park over the past twenty-five months.  Said entity appeared within the boundaries of the ISS fifteen times in a three-month window before being detected, yet seemed uninterested in the usual ghostly activities associated with ‘hauntings’.  ‘Phantom’ has also been observed to drive other ecto-entities back into the ‘Ghost Zone’, assist civilians in distress, and make moral judgments based on situational context.”

Muttering and nodding permeated the air like mist.  Dr. Sellers allowed it to die down before he continued his address.  

“Because of these qualities, it was decided in various circles that it would be advantageous to see whether his abilities could be utilized in more diverse, coordinated ways, such as in scientific exploration, paranormal research, and SAR endeavors.  The officials involved in this unique project elected to attempt direct communication with said ghost, enlisting the aid of the Fentons.  On the twelfth of July, Dr. Fenton initiated an encounter that lasted approximately 34 seconds, which has been considered a marked success.  Her second interaction on the first of August resulted in several unexpected occurrences.  First and foremost: ‘Phantom’ consented to participate in a psychological evaluation.  As you may well be aware, this is the first event of its kind.

“At various times in our modern past, the international government and space agencies have tried to draft preliminary protocols on how to deal with extraterrestrial life forms.  That is the only precedent we have for determining how to proceed in this matter; we have no firm guidance.  For the time being, ‘Phantom’ is being classified by the U.S. DOD as a ‘non-human person’ and is under limited legal protection.  Now that you have been debriefed, I will explain the reason for this conference.

“On the projector is a list of questions that the government intends to ask if and when we have more prolonged, direct accessibility to the test subject during the evaluation.  If you see any biased or potentially offensive items, please point them out.  We are also taking suggestions for other questions as well.  Remember, this is a hallmark in the fields of paranormal and astronomical science, so it is imperative that our words count.”

Three hours, much hair-pulling, and one overturned iced tea later, the list had expanded to include eight items.  Whether to add a ninth was currently being debated by Dr. A. Costa and Mr. Gonzales, who had turned in their chairs to face each other, their teeth bared (in a metaphorical way).  

“You can’t ask ‘What is a ghost?’ in this interview.  There is already a legal definition in the paranormal dictionary, and it has been verified time and time again by the leading researchers!”

“Have you seen how bizarre this ghost’s ecto signature, energy readings, and behaviors are?  You can even count the number of times he breathes per minute if you watch the film closely enough!  Our meaning of the word ‘ghost’ doesn’t begin to cover those discrepancies!”     

Drs. Fenton, who were absorbed in an uncharacteristic silence, exchanged an anxious glance.  Their hidden camera around the Ghost Bait captured the lunch lady’s post-human impression of consciousness calling Phantom a ‘half-ghost’ loud and clear; that and his reluctance to touch their choice dessert seemed to imply that they weren’t dealing with a ghost at all.  The GIW and Dr. Sellers were adamant about not sharing this information, and they had no intentions of doing so.  What could it mean?  They had two ideas, both equally outlandish: Dr. Sellers was convinced that somehow, an alien had somehow breached the Ghost Zone and arrived at Amity Park through one of its wormholes; Director Hamilton wondered whether it was possible for a human to withstand the levels of ecto-contamination required to exhibit ghostly traits.  Either way, they had spent two years opening fire at the first interstellar to ever experience mankind…or a human being.  Neither option was reassuring.  

“Enough!” General Raymond barked, leaning forward and banging his fist on the podium.  Quiet snapped across the room like a tsunami wave.  

“Thank you, sir.”  Dr. Sellers inclined his head toward the Space Command’s superior officer.  He cleared his throat, then turned to address the members of the hastily-gathered committee.  “Your input is highly appreciated, especially considering that many of you were summoned here on extraordinarily short notice.  These inquiries will be a valuable investigative tool.”  With the further ado that was inevitable in the academic world, the meeting was disbanded, and each participant was sternly reminded of their commitment to absolute secrecy.  As everyone filed out the narrow doorway, the Fentons remained in their seats, facing Dr. Sellers, General Raymond, the UNOOSA director, and the Secretary of Defense.  For several moments, an awkward silence reigned over them all.  

“Well…that was certainly something,” said Jack, tapping the arm of his chair.  

“I’ll say.”  Maddie searched her pockets for an aspirin.  “This whole thing has become so much larger than I’d ever expected.”

“Agreed.  Can I have one of those?” Dr. Sellers asked, pointing to the container of pills she unearthed from her utility belt.  She wordlessly complied.  He swallowed his dry, then turned to General Raymond.  “I never thought I’d be picking up an alien in an ‘02 Honda Civic, but that’s exactly what will happen in forty-eight hours.”

“Dr. Sellers, we’ve talked about this…”  General Raymond shook his head.  “The probability of an extraterrestrial having exactly the same body shape as ourselves is nil .  Besides, he knows far too many cultural references to be from another galaxy.”

The scientist sighed.  “I know in my heart of hearts you’re right; I simply can’t help associating this stranger with outer space.  I’ve expressed more than once that I was impressed by the extent of his knowledge about the topic of astronomy; we all watched him sit by the window and trace the constellations.  Whoever Phantom is, he’s smart.  I still don’t fully understand why we don’t try to identify him…”

“That’s near impossible because we don’t know where, how, or when Phantom became what he is.”  Jack hummed in thought.  “The only way I can think of for a boy to get so ghost-like is if he fell into a natural portal and started absorbing the ambient ectoplasm, which is crazy in itself.  Even if that was the case, we could still go through hundreds of thousands of missing persons cases and end up no closer to the truth.  Sure, we could ask him, but he might not remember much of his past…and he has every reason to not tell.  That’s…that’s our fault.  As much as I’d like to help E.T. phone home…”  

“Well, if the preliminary evaluation proves successful, we can graduate to more field tests…if we could persuade him to collaborate with your patrols in Amity Park, that would be a definite improvement in public safety.  From there, General Raymond, NASA, and the UNOOSA would like to see whether he would be interested in satellite and communications maintenance.  I, for one, wonder how helpful he could be in obtaining soil samples from the moon and Mars…but I’m getting ahead of myself.”  He smiled, clasping his hands together with excitement.  “Thank you for all your hard work on the preparatory materials, Drs. Fenton.”

“It was the least we could do after the way we’ve behaved,” Maddie admitted.  “Come to think of it, we’ve been ghost hunters for such a long time that we’ve forgotten the scientific process, and it shows.”

The significance of her words were not lost on the ghost sitting beside her in a recently-vacated chair; the three teens at home in Amity Park all bore equal expressions of relief and shock.   

“That went a lot better than I was thinking it would,” Tucker confessed, clicking the five-second replay button on the crowded computer screen.  “I mean, I didn’t expect them to figure out the whole half-ghost thing…that wasn’t ideal.”

“You’re right, of course, but NASA isn’t Amity Park.  They were bound to notice something off eventually.”  Jazz frowned in concentration as the gears turned in her mind.  “This might not be such a bad thing; in fact, it may be the best possible outcome.  Not only are they willing to respect Danny’s privacy, they’re giving him a fair hearing for once.”

“Do you guys hear yourselves?  The federal government clearly denied him full personhood.  That’s low.”  Sam kicked the leg of the computer desk with her boot, wringing her hands.  “His parents might finally have their heads on straight, but the government always has an agenda.  They’re treating him like an animal that needs to be trained.  And there’s no guarantee they won’t use the stuff they learn at this ‘evaluation’ against him later.”

“You’re right, Sam.”

The goth’s head jerked as she turned to scrutinize Jazz.  “Did I really just hear you say that?  You never admit that you’re wrong when you can help it.”

“Well, yeah, I do have perfectionist tendencies.  But that’s not the point right now.”  She inhaled, tapping her fingers on the desk top with a contained anxiety.  “I’m saying that none of us necessarily have a better perspective on the situation than the other.  You’ve said that distrusting the government is a useful rule of thumb in this case, and that’s true.  On the other hand…well, we all know that Danny can’t keep his secret forever.  You guys know him better than anyone else, so you’ve seen how much having to hide every single day is taking a toll on him.  Something has to change.”

“So…you’re saying he should just up and tell them?  What the—”

“I didn’t say that, and you’re never going to hear me say that.  Even when I first found out the truth, I didn’t pressure my brother into telling me before he was ready himself.”  Her voice took on a hard edge, then faded back to neutrality with her next statement.  “What I’m trying to say is that it’s up to him whether he keeps the appointment or not.  He’s not as clueless as we think, y’know.”

“I guess, but we’re talking about the same halfa who didn’t realize ghosts actually needed to eat.  Did you see what the Lunch Lady dropped off in the lab today?”  Tucker lifted a picture of a faintly-glowing green lunchbox from underneath the computer desk.  

“What’s even in there?” Sam asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I dunno, but I’m not gonna be the one to find out.”

Chapter Text

Danny was reluctant to leave Florida without revisiting Cape Canaveral, but his mind felt as heavy as a soaked sponge.  Besides, who knew whether the ghosts would take advantage of his absence and wreak havoc?  He stretched against the wall of the now completely empty, dark conference room, shook out the tension in his neck and shoulders, and thought very, very hard about the FentonWorks laboratory.  Within fifteen seconds, he conjured a swirling, green portal; he slipped through the vortex into the center of the room, straightened himself, and then jumped at the realization that he was surrounded by several unimpressed specters.  They all glowered at him with distaste.  Skulker, the most imposing, stepped forward with a thud of his steel-toed boots.  

“Whelp.  Explain this,” he growled, shoving what looked like an eerie-looking lunchbox under his nose.  Danny, who had gone nearly cross-eyed trying to identify the object, gingerly pushed it a more reasonable distance away.  The hinges, swinging handle, and oddly tantalizing smell seemed to confirm his previous suspicion.  

“It’s a lunchbox.  What’s the problem?” 

“What’s the problem?  He wants to know what the problem is!”  Skulker glowered even more ferociously, flaming mohawk jumping higher.  “The problem is that the Lunch Lady is upending our part of the Ghost Zone because you haven’t so much as touched this specially-prepared portion of spaghetti and eekballs.  And after all the trouble she went to to bring it straight here!  She’s never been so insulted.  You may not be a real ghost, but we do have some standards, you know.”

“Look, I’ve been out-of-state all day, alright?  I had no idea she even did that for me!”  He frowned, turning in a circle to see nearly every member of his Rogue’s Gallery.  “Wait a minute.  How long have you all been waiting for me to show up?  Did you plan this or something?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Ghost Child.  This is an intervention.”  He shoved the box into Danny’s hands with such force that he nearly stumbled backwards.  “As soon as you tell her how much you enjoyed this, we can get back to our afterlives.  Go on!”

“Yeah, dipstick, your joke has gone too far.”

“It wasn’t a—”  

Skulker removed a fiery crossbow from behind his back with a fluid motion.  Danny raised both hands and accepted the suspicious lunchbox, aware from the various shifting of postures into fight positions that the others were no more willing to entertain his arguments.   He stared at the blank, shiny lid with an immense trepidation, slowly hooking his finger beneath the catch.  Bracing himself, he opened it—

A bright green puree sat atop a wiggling mound of equally discolored noodles, punctuated with the occasional lump of meat.  As his breath caught in his throat, one of them rolled over and blinked at him.  His head felt light.  

As the moments passed in a tense quiet, the expression in the room shifted from exasperation to confusion.  Even Skulker lowered his weapon a fraction of an inch, examining him with a scowl.  

“What’s the matter with you?  No one can resist this recipe.  There’s even scream cheese in the sauce.”  He folded his arms, frowning with puzzlement.  “Do you think it’s going to bite you first?” 

“Well, yeah.” Danny pointed at the multiple, bolded warnings affixed to every jug of pasteurized ectoplasm.  

“You’re being stupid; you could drink that stuff like milk if you felt like it.  Maybe those ghost hunters you live with are afraid of it, but there’s no reason you should be.”  Ember rolled her eyes, hands on her hips.  

“If you really think that, then you don’t know what happened to me the last time I didn’t follow the lab safety rules!” he snapped, gesturing to his face, eyes, and clothes.  “Spectra said it herself: I’m a freak!”

An awkward silence fell.  He stepped back, feeling as surprised as them at his own words.   Ember’s lips opened and closed soundlessly; Kitty had raised her hand to her mouth in shock; even Youngblood dropped a couple feet from his position by the ceiling lights, looking much less smug.  Skulker shifted from foot to foot.  

“Look, whelp—Phantom—we didn’t—”

Danny looked down at the contents of the lunchbox to avoid eye contact, wishing he could redo the past fifteen seconds.  The ball of tangled emotions inside him seemed double in size; he pushed it out of his thoughts, telling himself that he would deal with it later.  He sighed as the food continued to squirm; it repulsed him, but it did smell fantastic.  Also, he was pretty sure that offending the Lunch Lady was a cardinal taboo in the Ghost Zone.  After some hesitation, he grasped the included spork in his hand.  “It was nice of her to make this,” he said dully, winding the spaghetti around the tines as slowly as he could get away with.  “Tell her I said thanks.”

“We will,” Skulker answered, watching him with a face that was difficult to read.  “Let’s go.”  And with that, the ghosts filed into the Zone one by one, silent and cowed.  A few of them faced him for a moment, appearing as though they desired to say something, but he continued to determinedly look away.  When the last specter had vanished into the void, he settled into his father’s preferred chair by the test tube racks, taking cautious bites of the strange meal. 

When Sam, Tucker, and Jazz arrived from the latter’s room five minutes later, his core was audibly vibrating with new energy and the glow of his aura cast shadows on the walls.  

“Uh…dude, are you okay?”

“I feel great.  Why?”

“You look weirder than usual,” stated Sam, circling around the table and poking the empty lunchbox.  “Hey, we were wondering what that thing was.  What happened?”

“I couldn’t explain it if I tried.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Jazz asked, placing her hands on his shoulders.  “Remember, you’ve got that burner phone Sam gave you, an GPS tracker with an SOS feature, and your little friend there.”  She pointed at Danny’s favorite blob ghost, whom he had borrowed from Klemper for the day.  “What’s his name?”

“Apollo.”  Danny grinned.  Said blob sat contentedly on his head like a round, squishy hat, purring like a fiend.  He reached up and gave it a fond pat.  “I have a regular thermos with filtered ectoplasm that he can share.  He loves that stuff.”

“It’s made a difference for you, too.  Your power level has increased from 7.53 to 8, which is pretty significant.  I guess you’re doing better because your ghost side is finally getting what it needs.”  She ruffled his hair, careful not to disturb the blob.  “It’s almost 7:30, so you should get going.  Remember: we’re really proud of you.”

“Thanks.”  He gave her a hug, trying to put everything he didn’t know how to say in the gesture.  

Then he phased through the front door of FentonWorks and swooped into the mild mid-summer air, watching the neighborhood transform into rooftops and varied grids of green grass.  He heard Apollo squeal with excitement as he accelerated; the breeze shot across his cheeks, the landscape blurred, and he relished the sensation of weightlessness.  Before either of them had stopped enjoying the ride, the wrought-iron park gates appeared below them, along with Jack Fenton’s infamous Day-Glo orange suit.  The man was standing beside an ordinary blue sedan with a bespectacled companion in a tie, who waved at him with a smile.  Danny felt a marked sense of relief as he recognized Dr. Sellers from the conference.  All seemed well, but just to be safe…he reached deep within himself for his Ghost Sense, searching for any faint pulses from a hidden ecto weapon.  Nothing.  

It was now or never.  With a fluttering sensation of nerves, he lowered himself closer to the ground, willing himself to grin back at them with equal enthusiasm.  “What’s up, Docs?”

“You are,” Jack answered with amused gusto.  He pointed to Danny’s feet, which hovered off the sidewalk by several inches.  

“Ha, good one!”  Feeling self-conscious, he settled his feet on the sidewalk.  As he focused on Dr. Sellers, he remembered that he was supposed to be meeting him for the very first time.  “Dr. Fenton—the other Dr. Fenton—said there’d be someone from the American Astronomical Society here today, too.  I’m guessing that’s you?”

“You’re quite right!  My name is Dr. Sellers.”  He extended a weathered hand.  Danny shook it with genuine excitement; his core buzzed pleasantly as he was reminded of the famous astronomer’s biography.  

“He served as an astronaut for NASA on several missions,” Jack explained.  

“I know.  He helped build the International Space Station, he went on six spacewalks, and he’s a meteorologist!”  He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help himself.

 The scientist’s countenance had become a mixture of pleasure and surprise. “Y-you’ve heard of me?”  

“Only by name, but yeah.  I love your work!”

“Why, thank you!” blustered Dr. Sellers.  As his eyes traveled over Danny from head to toe, he paused at the sight of the tiny ghost nestled into his hair.  “...Is that—?”

“Oh, this is a blob ghost.  I brought him along for moral support.”  He reached up and gathered Apollo into his palm, listening to his gentle peep! noises.  Patting him reassuringly, he held his companion out for them to examine.  Jack leaned in with avid interest, eyebrows raised.

“Neat!  As long as he’s friendly, I don’t see a problem with that.”

“Cool.”  He felt calmer as Apollo drifted to his original spot and reestablished his comfort zone.  “I think I’m ready now.”

“Alright-y, then.”  Jack opened the car’s front side door with a flourish.  Danny started forward, then hesitated.  If he was riding shotgun, then there would be someone sitting directly behind him in the backseat…where he wouldn’t be able to see.  Then again, if he sat in the backseat, it would be equally disconcerting for them to not have a visual on him.  

Then an idea pinged to life in his brain; he settled Apollo on the headrest so that he could keep a lookout.  The blob seemed to understand.  He squared upright like a watchdog, giving a string of alert chirrups.  Only then did Danny venture into the carseat and buckle himself in.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other two exchange a bewildered glance.  However, they seemed to decide not to mention his behavior.  They merely ducked into their respective seats (Jack crammed in on the driver’s side of the back, and Dr. Sellers took the wheel).  Relieved that his father would not be demonstrating his lack of vehicular prowess, he relaxed slightly as the engine revved to life.  It also reoccurred to him that he was in the company of a celebrated astronaut.  

“Can you tell me about space?” 

Dr. Sellers chuckled.  “I have a feeling you could tell me a good deal more.  After all, I can’t say that I’ve performed any of my missions without a suit.”

Danny felt heat rising to his face.  “You saw that?”

“Yes, we saw you exit the ISS to rescue vital equipment from an exceptionally large chunk of space waste.  NASA seems to owe you a debt of gratitude.”  His voice rang with notes of glee.  “I have to ask—what does it feel like out there?”

In his mind’s eye, he replayed the snapshot impressions of crushing darkness dotted with pinpricks of starlight.  “...I don’t really know how to describe it.  It tastes and smells like metal, it feels like you’re being squeezed really tight, and it…it literally takes your breath away.  I started seeing spots and my hands went numb.”  He automatically blinked and flexed his fingers.  “It’s definitely better to observe it from the Cupola.”  

“I see.”  Dr. Sellers appeared pensive.  “Thank you for sharing that, Phantom.”

“No problem.”

“While we’re on the topic of unexplored places, do you mind telling us about the Ghost Zone?” Jack asked, bobbing with excitement.  “We’ve sent a few probes and drones through the portal in the basement, but all of them stopped sending data within minutes…you understand why we’re reluctant to go in ourselves.”

“Oh yeah, I get that.”  Danny thought for a moment.  “The Ghost Zone is like space in that it’s a whole ‘nother world.  Also, the force of gravity doesn’t really work the same way.  What’s different is that you can actually step through the portal without being depressurized; the air is breathable; and it’s got a stable, comfortable temperature.  The atmosphere isn’t the reason your equipment keeps getting destroyed.”

“It’s not?”

“Nah.  There’s this ghost situated near the opening…it’s hard to explain, but he doesn’t like it when stuff from this dimension gets into the Zone.  If he finds a man-made object, he confiscates it.”  He laughed at the recollection of himself sauntering out of Walker’s prison walls.  

“What’s so funny?” asked the puzzled ghosthunter.  

“You know how ghosts can go through stuff?  Well, it’s the other way around for humans over there.  If you wanted to, you could pass straight through any building in the Ghost Zone without ever using the door.”

“Wait a minute.  There are buildings there?”

“Yeah, lots of them!  They don’t look the same as they do here; most ghosts establish their own little area where they can manipulate the ectoplasm into whatever shape they want.  There are also these pocket dimensions that are waaay bigger on the inside than they look.  Those are called ‘lairs’.  You can’t explore them without permission, though.  It’s really rude to walk into a lair if you weren’t explicitly invited.”

“So it’s like knocking before you go into someone else’s house?”

“It’s exactly like that.”  

Danny could hear the sound of a pencil scribbling across a notebook from behind him.  “Interesting!  On what occasions do ghosts visit each other’s lairs?  And what do lairs even look like?  Ah, you’ve got me goin’ down the rabbit hole.”

One lengthy conversation later: 

“Well, we’re here!  This is where my wife and I studied ectology: all things ghost,” Jack announced, launching the car door open with palpable excitement.  “Because of you, they’ll have more stuff to add to their curriculum!”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever learned so much at once,” added Dr. Sellers.  He smiled at Danny as he stretched his arms and legs.  “That was fascinating .”

“I’m glad you thought so.  That was fun.”  He found himself feeling light-hearted for the first time in months.  The sight of an impressive domed, collumned brick lecture hall across the well-kept green filled him with less fear than he’d thought it would; he could have done cartwheels across it.  Today, he hadn’t felt the need to run from his dad or the lab-coated community.  If the rest of the session stayed that way, then…then what?  

Pushing the thought from his mind, he walked after the two scientists as they approached the three-story-tall front entrance.  Out of reflexive caution, he pushed off the concrete and floated to the beautifully paneled windows; poking his face through the glass, he spied his mother, who flipped through some papers on a clipboard.  There were also two well-dressed individuals he suspected were the mental health professionals he’d heard about…and one stranger in a black dress coat.  His posture, style of clothing, and stern facial expression shouted, ‘I’m a government agent!’  A Specter Deflector circled his waist.  Danny recognized the faint ectoplasmic traces of a concealed lipstick blaster.  He sank down to the front steps with renewed anxiety.

“What seems to be the problem?” asked Dr. Sellers, considering him with concern.

“That guy’s armed.”

“He’s required by law to have a personal ghost shield and one offensive device on him at all times while he’s on duty, regardless of the situation,” the man sighed in response.  “We aren’t happy about this either, considering the circumstances.”

“You think you’re unhappy?  Try being on the business end of a stun gun,” Danny muttered.  “I know I agreed to this, it’s just…now that he’s standing right there, everything seems real .”

Jack moved to put a hand on his shoulder, but seemed to decide against it at the last second.  “It’s…it’ll be fine, Ghost Kid.  Is your ‘moral support’ helping?” he asked, offering Apollo a cautious tap.  The blob bumped against his black HAZMAT glove in reciprocation.  Their positive exchange encouraged him some.  

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

At that moment, Maddie opened the door and waved them inside.  “Hello, everyone!  I’m glad you’re joining us, Phantom,” she said, leading him across the tiled floor to the other pair of researchers.  The one nearest to him examined his face through his bifocals, leaning in for a handshake.  His relaxed face was framed by a balbo-style beard.  “This is Dr. Wachtel.  He has expertise in neuropsychology, forensic psychology, and counseling.”

“Nice to meet you.”  He introduced himself in a pleasant, lilting voice.  “Myself and Dr. Rynn will be conducting your evaluation for the next three days.”  Dr. Wachtel turned to the short-haired, middle-aged woman beside him, who also adjusted her glasses as she considered Danny.  “She’s an accomplished adolescent psychiatrist from the state of New York.”

“Hi,” said Danny, reaching out to shake their hands.  Each of them hesitated before returning the gesture.  He also noticed that Dr. Rynn’s calm demeanor seemed forced.  For a moment, he was discouraged.  Then, he realized that the universe had practically giftwrapped a perfect opportunity to drop one of his signature puns.  “What’s the matter, guys?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jack laughed, slapping his knee.  “That was pretty good!”  Even Dr. Rynn emitted a surprised chuckle.  The mood lightened as Maddie led them down a hallway with several enumerated classrooms, computer labs, and offices.  To Danny’s relief, the agent remained in the foyer.  As far as he was concerned, that was a good sign.  Nothing suspicious occurred; they simply turned into a small private room on the right.  The square table inside harbored a few writing instruments, lined paper, several folders, and two laptops.  Jack and Dr. Sellers withdrew, wishing him the best.  He waved at them until they had moved out of sight.  And with that, he found himself alone with two shrinks and an ectobiologist. 

After a brief introduction and summary of their goals, Dr. Wachtel presented him with a small plastic tray containing several cubes with a variety of triangles on each face.  “I’m going to show you some pictures of the shape I’d like you to reproduce with these pieces.  You’ll have 45 seconds to arrange them to match each image.  Do you understand?”

Not only did he understand, he finished two out of the three trials before the deadline.  The other activities turned out to be fairly similar. Dr. Wachtel also requested that he recite a gradually increasing string of numbers forwards and backwards until he reached the limits of his capabilities; view several pictures and explain the content; define higher-level words that he read off a list; and find a common theme within a series of objects.  Once Danny completed the last item, the psychologist gave an impressed nod, glancing over his notes.  

“This portion went more quickly than I anticipated.”  He straightened his paperwork and glanced over his shoulder at his colleague.  “If we had a ten-minute break now, would there be enough spare time for the mathematical portion?”

Oh no , thought Danny automatically.  When the three of them looked askance at him, he realized that he had spoken aloud.  

“Would you rather wait until tomorrow?  That’s perfectly fine—”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said hastily, trying to correct the misunderstanding.  “I don’t mind doing it today, it’s just that I’m not great at math.  That’s all.”

He would soon regret not putting it off until tomorrow.  As it turned out, said computation tasks were divided into two paper assessments that spanned the next hour and a half.  When he finally sheathed the basic operations calculator and set his pencil down on the desk, numbers swam around his brain every time he closed his eyes.  He could feel his mother watching him with interest as Dr. Rynn collected his work.  

“Phantom, are there calculators in the Ghost Zone?” she asked.  

“Yes.  There’s all kinds of technology there,” Danny answered, trying to sound patient as he battled an algebra-induced sense of irritation.  “The ghosts who like to invent stuff have had a lot of time to build things and test their ideas.  There’s even internet access around the portal.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.  Technus is everyone’s IT.  He set up a group chat with the other ghosts in it.”

“I’ll be.”  She appeared a tad confounded.  “What do you talk about?”

“Oh, I’m not in it.  Youngblood told me about it just to annoy me, and it turned into a running joke.”

“How often do you have non-hostile interactions with other ghosts?”

“Now and again.  I’ve been hanging out with Poindexter about once a week, ‘cause he’s not half bad once you get to know him.  He haunts the high school and helps freshmen get out of lockers when the football players shut them inside.  I saw Ember McClain and the Lunch Lady last Saturday evening…they’re really temperamental, so I steer clear of them when I can. I’d like to catch up with the Dairy King, but his haunt is in Wisconsin, and he’s a bit of a recluse.  As for Wulf…I haven’t seen him in a while.  Oh!  I almost forgot: every holiday season, there’s a Christmas truce.  There’s presents, party games, food, and nobody’s allowed to be antagonistic for a full twenty-four hours.”

Maddie blinked.  “I have a few questions.  First of all: do you mean the Ember McClain?”

“Yes.”

He watched her frown as she mentally tucked that tidbit of weirdness into the back of her mind to review later. 

“Also, can you tell me more about this ‘Christmas truce’?”

“Not really.  I’ve only been to one of the get-togethers…I kinda found out about it by accident. I don’t think anyone would have told me it was a thing if I hadn’t.”

As a bitter note entered his speech, she peered at him from over the rim of her clipboard.  “From what you’ve said so far, it sounds like you experience a negative emotional reaction in response to exclusion.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“Touche.”  

Danny could still sense the question-generating gears grinding in her head, so when Apollo floated from his spot to drift restlessly around the room, he seized upon the excuse to make his exit.  “I guess he must be wound up.  I should bring him home.”

“That’s fine.  Thank you for your cooperation, Phantom.  We had incorporated extra time into each block to account for explanations, distractions, or setbacks, but we had none of those issues.”  Dr. Wachtel smiled.  “If the next session goes as smoothly, we could finish a day earlier than planned.”

“Cool,” Danny exclaimed, gently resisting the little blob as it tugged at his hair.  “I know, I know, you’re tired.”  He pushed out his chair and stretched.  “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes.  Do you still need a ride to and from here?” Maddie asked.

“Now that I’ve been here, I don’t think so.  Thanks, though.”  He concentrated on the park, then watched in satisfaction as a portal appeared in front of him within seconds.  He ushered Apollo through, offered them a quick “Bye!”, and dove in after him.  As the opening snapped shut behind him, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He grinned at the little ghost, who chirped and circled around his face.  

“We did it, pal!  We spent half the day with a bunch of scientists and didn’t end up strapped to a lab table.  I call that a distinct success.”  Danny gathered his friend in his arms, propelled himself into the sky, and hurried home to give Jazz the good news.  He didn't notice the silent, still figure on a hoverboard watching him retreat.

Chapter Text

She had a problem.  Scratch that, she had three problems.  Most pressing: her boss was a ghost.  Valerie flopped back onto her bedspread and sighed, glaring up at the freshly-painted ceiling.  At least she didn’t have to worry about living in that run-down apartment complex.  When her father had accepted a new role with the Fentons, their prospects improved overnight.  Her new room was cleaner, larger, and more furnished.   However, she seemed to have traded one conundrum for another.  As she stared into the crevices of the air vent, she became short of breath as her heart raced.  How could Vlad Masters be the Wisconsin Ghost?  How could a man be a ghost at all?  It made no sense!

That led into her second issue.  She’d automatically dismissed Phantom’s claims about her sponsor’s dishonesty; after all, he was a destructive and desperate apparition.  Now, she’d seen with her own eyes that he had been warning her in the only way he could.  That meant he could be telling the truth about other things as well, and it was driving her crazy.  She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, filling her lungs with as much air as she could in an attempt to escape that oxygen-hungry feeling.  Focus .

Perhaps this revelation wasn’t so bad.  If Phantom didn’t always lie, she could get some real answers out of him.  His loathing of Plasmius/Masters meant that they now shared a mutual understanding.  Wouldn’t it be in his best interests to give her as much information about the mayor as possible?  That is, if his distrust for her didn’t outweigh his feelings about their enemy.  She could feel her pulse humming against her rib cage.  This panicky feeling had to go.  Valerie did the thing she knew best; she jumped off her bed and activated the sleek red suit, relishing the feel of it sliding over her skin like water.  That was better.  She crossed the room, threw open her window, and activated the hoverboard under her feet as she leapt off the edge with the thrill of the hunt. 

Her suit’s helmet interface automatically projected any nearby ecto signatures on a map of the city, showing the various ghosts as blinking green dots.  She was acutely reminded of her third problem: she wasn’t sure whether she’d see Phantom.  Every once and a while, his unique reading would vanish from the grid, and the cool voice in her headset would say, ‘Out of range’.  Then, for the past two days, he’d disappeared in the morning, turned up in Champaign for several hours on end, and then popped back into Amity Park by evening.  What was that about?  Valerie’s hunter instincts disliked this new pattern.  But tonight, she was in luck; her radar pinpointed his location in seconds.  She performed a sharp turn and rushed in the direction of the school, cradling her ecto gun in her arms.  

As she approached, she activated stealth mode and dropped to the edge of Casper High’s roof, creeping along the eaves until she was within ten feet of the ghost.  And he wasn’t alone.  A noir specter in a sweater and bow tie sat beside him on the tiles as he pointed up at the sky, outlining something with his finger.

“...and that’s the Big Dipper, or Ursa Major.  It’s the most widely identifiable constellation in the Northern Hemisphere because the seven stars in it are so bright, especially Polaris.  In Illinois, it’s easier to see it in the summer.  When winter comes, I’ll show you Orion the Hunter.”

“I’ll show you a hunter right now.”  Valerie selected that moment to glide upward, leveling her weapon at the pair.  As soon as she appeared, Phantom leapt to his feet, positioning his body between herself and his companion.  

“Quick, Poindexter, get out of here,” he hissed.  Said ghost phased through the roof in the blink of an eye.  Once the boy had vanished, Phantom tensed; she recognized that he was about to leap into the night sky and fly away as fast as he could.  

Against all her intuition, the huntress allowed her blaster to drop several inches.  “Wait.”

He blinked in confusion, but to her surprise, he obeyed her injunction.  She was so taken aback that she nearly forgot to begin speaking again.  The huntress cleared her throat, realizing that she hadn’t prepared any material.  Oh, well.  She was good at thinking on the fly.  That’s why Masters had hired her, wasn’t it?  “I’ll cut to the chase, ghost.  There’s some things I need to know.”

“Oh, we’re doing this again.”  He sighed.  “I guess this is an improvement over a high-speed chase with a ton of laserfire.  What’s the matter, Red?”

“I’ve been doing a ghost’s dirty work, and you’ve known the whole time.  Haven’t you?”  

It wasn’t a question.  She watched him shift his weight from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his neck in a fidgety way.

“...In my defense, you wouldn’t have believed me if I’d told you.”  A defiant edge crept into his tone, then disappeared as he asked a question of his own.  “How did you figure it out?  He doesn’t seem to have realized that you got wise.”

She forced her next words out of her mouth, trying not to choke on them.  “I watched Plasmius turn into Masters.  He was too busy monologuing to realize I’d come back to help him after that whole thing in the lab.  Now that I realize they’re one and the same, the whole thing with that little girl seems so…”

“Horrible?”

“Yeah.”  Valerie swallowed hard.  “What did you mean when you said…?  What do you think he’d do to me if he learned that I knew?”

“Not gonna lie, I’d rather not think about it.  He’s no less intimidating as a man than he is as a ghost, and that’s saying something.”  Phantom had planted himself firmly on the rooftop.  His eyes narrowed with concern.  “You’ve gotta back out of working for him before it clicks that something’s up.”

“Stop ghost hunting?”  Unconsciously, she lifted the barrel a fraction.  The ghost stiffened and brought his hands slowly out in front of him, eyes fixed on her trigger finger.  She forced herself to relax her arms, wrists, and body.  The longer she kept him here, the more information she could extract.  She inhaled, then continued.  “How would that play out, exactly?”

“Well, there are two ways this could go.  One: you stay in his employ, get more tangled up in his plans, and then find yourself stuck because he’s got so much leverage.  You could try to double cross him, I guess, but he’s mastered the art of staying one step ahead.  On the other hand, you could go to him and say something like, ‘I need to find a safer job’.  He’d guilt trip you, but if you stood your ground and stayed cool, there’s a chance he might let you off the hook with a warning.”

“‘Might’?” she repeated.  If the look on his face was any indication, Phantom was serious about this.  “What would happen if I were to, say, anonymously tip off the GIW?”

His answer was firm and immediate.  “Don’t even try it.  They wouldn’t believe you, and even if they did, they’re no match for Plasmius.  Either way, he’d eventually trace things back to you…and ruin your life from the top down.”

Perspiration beaded on her brow.  “You sound like you’ve seen him do this before.”

“That’s because I have.  Jack Fenton offended Vlad Masters twenty years ago, so he’s been doing everything he can to get revenge: he sends ghosts after him, tries to humiliate him in public, and messes with his family.”  

His volume increased, his eyes gleamed neon in the darkness, and he’d balled his hands into fists. Valerie considered the display of emotion with an upraised eyebrow.  “Why do you care about the Fentons so much?  Does ‘I’m going to tear you apart molecule by molecule’ mean anything to you?”

“It’s complicated,” he said awkwardly, looking sideways.  “They’re just like you and me in that they’re trying to find ways to keep Amity safe.  Until recently, I had no way to prove that the things they thought about me weren’t true.”

“That’s why they’ve left you alone lately,” she realized.  Her chest fluttered with a renewed distrust.   “What could you possibly have shown them to make them back off?  They hated you.”

“I didn’t actually do anything.  Drs. Fenton invented this really cool machine that can reveal traces of ecto energy on original videos and pictures.  When they and the GIW reviewed the incriminating footage of me, they could see the other ghosts I was contending with.  They haven’t called me a putrid hunk of ectoplasmic human post-conscience in a month now.”  He momentarily brightened, then his face settled into a frown as he returned to their grim reality.  “Even if they were still trying to capture me, I wouldn’t wish for bad things to happen to them.  No matter what you think, I don’t see them or you as enemies.  Just…just be careful.  We’re talking about the guy who released Pariah Dark, y’know.”

“I always assumed you were behind that.”

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things, but that definitely isn’t one of them.  Take my advice and get away from Masters while you still can.”  

The implications of what she’d heard spun around in her mind like clothes in a washing machine, bundling into an incoherent ball.  Severing her connections with the mayor meant returning her suit.  She couldn’t imagine never feeling the mid-flight swooping sensation of having a target locked in her crosshairs.  But she had much more to lose than a passion.  

“Um, is that all you needed to talk about?”

“No.”  The two letters snapped through the air like a whip.  “If he and Dani are humans and ghosts at the same time…what does that mean?  Are there others like them, and if so, do they act like he does?”

His eyes flickered to the side, his feet angled away from her, and he appeared to shrink in on himself; she knew that she’d backed him into a corner, and cornered ghosts were dangerous.  Her grip on her weapon grew tighter until her knuckles paled.  

“How many, Phantom?  Two? Ten? Twenty?  Answer me.”

“...Just the two.”

Valerie felt her heart leap into her throat.  The voice that cut through the midnight air like a switchblade sounded like someone else entirely.  “If you’re gonna lie to me, then you need to do a better job than that.  What don’t you want me to know?  Where do you go when you leave Amity Park?”

Phantom’s aura flared.  His hands remained upraised and empty, but he glared at her in frustration.  The image abruptly reminded her of her first meeting with a ghostly Dani, a glowing figure in a dark, abandoned house.  And then it clicked: their similarities weren’t skin deep.  

“There are three, aren’t there?”

The scene froze.  Her pulse pounded in her ears.  The ghost seemed glued to the spot, staring at the blaster with a new expression of fear.  After several moments of crushing silence, he exhaled angrily.  “Now you know.”

The full meaning of the revelation spiraled through her thoughts like a whirlwind of shrapnel.  “I can’t believe this.”

“I can’t believe this.”  Director Hamilton and a high-profile DOD representative sat at the end of the conference table, exchanging amazed glances.  The UNOOSA and NASA associates seemed equally surprised as Dr. Rynn shuffled through her notes from across the room in the GIW center of operations.  

“I understand that, Director.  As I’ve said before, I had very little idea of what to expect when I was first contacted for this research.  Your agency provided a number of video clips of this ghost altercating with other ecto entities, engaging in limited interactions with local police and firemen, and appearing at the ISS.  It was helpful in a preliminary sense, but…”  

She arranged a mathematical test, filled-out personality inventory, and mental health screening for them to view.  “After having met Phantom, I can say with reasonable confidence that his psychological profile is very human.  If I were seeing these results for the first time, I wouldn’t be able to differentiate between them and findings from regular patients of the same age group and gender.”

Hamilton pinched the bridge of his nose.  “What about you, Dr. Wachtel?  Your specialty is forensics.  What irregularities did you see?”

The psychologist raised an eyebrow in confusion.  “None whatsoever.  I’ve studied the facial expressions, eye movements, and verbal cues associated with deception and criminal behavior for most of my career, and there was nothing amiss.  When Dr. Fenton briefly touched on the incidences of chief concern, his responses were given with full eye contact and normal speech patterns.”  He referred back to his index cards for a moment.  “The most singular observation I made was that he assumed defensive body language at unexpected movements or sounds.  He also oriented himself so that he had full visibility of ourselves and the door to the room.  Phantom preferred not to speak to or interact with your security guard, maintaining a distance of at least fifteen feet from his person at all times.”

“He could tell that Agent T carried an ecto weapon the moment he saw him for the first time,” Dr. Sellers interjected.  “I don’t believe it took him more than five seconds to identify the size and type of the device, express his concerns, and reconsider his willingness to enter the building.”

“Phantom is definitely smart.  He followed directions exceptionally well and asked detailed questions. From the mathematical, visual reasoning, memory, and complex language tasks, we’ve calculated his IQ score to be 125.  His social and emotional intelligence were average.”  Dr. Rynn pointed to the packet on the far right.  “What stood out to me is that he shows several hallmarks of clinically significant anxiety and depressed mood, including feelings of isolation and insecurity.”

“How can a ghost possibly have those issues?” Hamilton stated incredulously, frowning at the psych eval as though it had personally offended him.

“I’m not sure, but the fact remains that he brought the ghost equivalent of an emotional support animal to both meetings.  We all watched him pet and play with it during breaks.  He even called it by name.”  Maddie showed them a picture of an unidentified blob ghost on her phone.

“Under normal circumstances, I would diagnose him with an unspecified adjustment disorder as defined in the DSM-Ⅳ, plan a treatment regimen, and follow up at intervals.  In this case, however, that’s impractical for obvious reasons.”  She tapped her finger on the linoleum, considering the options.  “I know that your primary concern was whether or not Phantom would have the mental competence and social skills to take instructions from a first responder, field research leader, technical expert, or handler.  We’ve seen that he can and is willing to.”

“‘Willing to’?  It took great lengths to convince him to appear for these sessions,” Hamilton argued.

“I don’t think so,” answered Jack, appearing puzzled by his vehemence.  “All we had to do was remove the indications of open hostility for him to respond positively, which really seems like…the bare minimum, relations-wise.  I didn’t think he’d answer all those questions about the Ghost Zone for me after all the times I’ve shouted and pointed the Fenton Bazooka at him, yet he seemed happy to help.”

“That’s true.  His reservations about the endeavor came from justifiable fear.”  Dr. Sellers nodded in accordance with the orange-clad ectologist.  “I think you’ll agree that it’s time for a field test.”

Chapter Text

“I’m impressed that you built this ecto-shield generator so quickly,” Mr. Grey said, admiring the face-height machine with an impressed nod.  “It’s amazing.  I didn’t appreciate the mechanical finesse that went into your inventions until I started here.”

“That’s some good first feedback on our prototype.”  Maddie smiled and wiped her forehead, twisting the last wingnut into position.  “We’ll have to figure out a way to make the future versions safe for confined indoor spaces.  As of now, it releases ethylene gas as a byproduct.  But it’s a start, I suppose.  Now, we’ve got this central ghost-proof component of the security system plans ready and on standby.”

“We’ll keep it here in the company warehouse until we’re ready to sync it with the rest of the components.  When we get to that step, I’ll move it outside.”  Dusting himself off, Jack covered the invention with a sheet.  “How’s the software coming along, Damon?”

“I spent the day working out the last few issues with the wireless network.  Once the alarms and barriers are installed, I can sync them to your existing sensors and design an interface for the program.”

“That’s great!”  At that moment, a timer buzzed from the workbench.  Maddie reset it and removed her goggles.  “This day has flown by, hasn’t it? It’s time to wrap things up here.  We have a meeting downtown to get ready for.”  

They walked across the concrete floor, stepping over packaged boxes of ghost hunting equipment, flares, and self-defense devices.  Mr. Grey looked around at the Fenton production facility and smiled to himself.  It wasn’t a conventional corporate environment, but he’d started to warm up towards the two inventors’ quirky, good-natured way of conducting their affairs.  He’d also learned about their idea for a program for Amity Park residents affected by ghost-related property damage.  Their only obstacle so far seemed to be City Hall bureaucracy.  He wasn’t sure which he disliked more: the politicians or the ghosts.  

The three of them stood in the doorway for a few seconds to exchange a polite ‘Good night!’  For a second in time, Mr. Grey thought a cloud of chill air slid past him, but dismissed it as his imagination.  As he turned his feet in the direction of home, he failed to notice the pointed face glowering at him on the other side of the window.  

Valerie paced across the carpet, biting her nails.  She shoved the mass of unresolved thoughts from her confrontation with Phantom the previous night to the edge of her conscience, instead focusing on the screen of her phone.  She’d done it.  Over email, she’d arranged a discussion with Mr. Masters about her resignation.  His polite, professional reply did nothing to relieve her fears.  She could picture him sitting primly in his office, staring at the screen with a fanged smirk.  At 10:30 tomorrow morning, she’d be face-to-face with that…that thing.  Now she had to sit in her room with the knowledge that he had a full fifteen hours to initiate a plot for revenge.  Who knows what he could get up to?

Wait a minute.  What kind of ghost hunter was she?  There was nothing she could do about the man.  As for Plasmius…well, that was a whole different ball game.  She slid her visor on, searching Amity Park with a wave of anticipation.  Even if he never made an appearance, she could still have one last night on America’s most haunted town.  Valerie dashed outside and blazed across the streaky pink sunset, performing spectacular arcs and charging her wrist rays with the energy from the signature red suit.  And when the little blinking dot that was Plasmius appeared on her screen, it felt like Fate.  She squinted at the GPS feature to find that he had entered the industrial area of Amity Park, specifically…

…Her dad’s new workplace?  She blinked, then zoomed in on the map.  Yes, he was visiting a premises labeled as an extension of FentonWorks.  Without thinking, she switched the strength of her weapons to maximum and pulled a rapid turn on the board, flying so fast to the location that her ears popped.  As she spiraled downwards towards the unassuming building, however, she paused.  

Vlad thought that she was easily led.  She’d sent him a message less than half an hour ago informing him of her departure from his employ, and now here he was, frequenting somewhere important to her father.  She couldn’t see exactly how the dots connected, but she’d already decided that the overlap of people and places couldn’t possibly be coincidental.  Her desire to roar in and blast him into oblivion diminished at the realization that he probably was counting on her to try.  She hung in midair as a thrill of horror raised goosebumps on her arms.  

Her indecision was interrupted as yet another beacon flashed across the display, indicating a rapidly approaching ghost.  Phantom.  Torn between fear and confusion, she activated the cloaking feature.  Yes, she could see him in the distance, darting between the points of buildings like a ping-pong ball.  His height decreased as he rushed closer; hardly breathing, she watched as he lightly touched down on the dusty sidewalk.  He turned his head in every direction, then stepped carefully forward until he stood in front of the open warehouse door.  It didn’t seem like he was in any hurry to enter; he stared at the entrance with visible apprehension, hands fidgeting at his sides.  She gasped as an intangible hand shot across the threshold and yanked him inside.  As he yelled and stumbled, Valerie made a choice.  She slid invisibly through the gap just as Plasmius slammed it shut, shaking his head as he glared at the young ghost sprawled on the floor in front of him.  

“Kind of you to join me, Daniel, especially on such short notice.”

“I hate you so much,” muttered Phantom, picking himself up and shooting him a glare of absolute loathing.

“I can live with that.  You, on the other hand…”  He emitted a cold chuckle, floating ahead and gesturing to the other side of the large floor.  A large, cylindrical machine sat there, partially draped in a cover.  A clone of himself was busy fiddling with the internal mechanisms beneath an opened panel.  As Phantom frowned and leaned forward for a better look, Plasmius slapped a thick metal cuff onto his wrist, ignoring his shout of surprise.  He dragged the protesting specter to the foot of the odd machine, seemingly unbothered by his attempts to break away.  

“What the heck is this thing?”  Phantom pulled at the band in an unsuccessful effort to loosen it.  

“It’s a little something I made.  First and foremost, it neutralizes your ability to manipulate ectoplasm.  Don’t bother trying to remove it; it was specially designed for your power level.  A stronger, more experienced ghost like me could break it with more ease…I digress.”  He pressed a button on the side of the restraint.  To Valerie’s amazement, a miniature drawer containing a tiny drill bit, flathead screwdriver, and a cutting tool emerged.  The other ghost seemed equally surprised by their appearance.   Vlad pushed him over so that he was kneeling beside the busy clone, who shut the panel and deliberately positioned his finger over the large invention’s ON button.  He pressed it firmly, yet nothing seemed to occur.  

“What’s going on?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”  He folded his arms behind his back, hovering several inches off the ground.  “I’ve run into a few different problems over the past few weeks.  As you are aware, you’re the most significant one.  I can’t even count how many months of work you’ve negated for me.  What’s more, that fat oaf—”

“Hey!”

“—seems to have successfully become involved with the government on a special project.  They’re respecting his research, and I find this unacceptable.  Finally, there’s Valerie.”  He paused, staring directly into Phantom’s pale face.  “She has abruptly expressed a desire to resign from ghost hunting.  I think we both have an inkling of why.”  Plasmius leaned downwards, voice dropping to a low pitch.  Venomous silk ribboned through his tone.  “I promised not to harm her if you complied with my plans tonight.  I intend to keep it…as long as she stays quiet.  I’ve already deactivated her suit.”

What?  That didn’t make any sense.  If he was telling the truth, then how was she still using it?  She pushed that thought to the back of her mind as the dialogue continued.  

“What do you want?” Phantom spat, eyes shining brightly in the darkness.  

“All I want is for you to stay where you are.”

The younger ghost glanced from the machine to him, expression turning to one of disgust and outrage.  “These tools…this invention…you’re going to frame me for sabotage!”

“Very good!”  Plasmius clapped in a slow rhythm.  The clone forcefully angled Phantom’s head and body above the power switch, turning invisible as the real thing slipped just outside the door and snapped a picture through the glass.  He returned to his previous position and absorbed the doppelgänger.  “Thank you, Daniel.  We’re done here.  The Fentons and Mr. Grey will return here in the morning, and when they do…”  He trailed off, turning away.  

“What’ll happen to them?”

“That’s for you to find out,” Plasmius grinned, drifting towards the outside.  

“NO!”  With a green surge of energy, the wristband snapped like a fortune cookie.  Valerie flinched at the intensity of his voice; Vlad whirled around, cape swirling behind his shoulders.  Before he could do anything but gawk, Phantom blasted him against the brickwork with such force that it made an ominous creaking sound; before the older ghost could recover, he was lifted by his collar several feet into the air, limbs frozen in place with ghostly ice.  Valerie shivered as the cold washed over her; she retreated a good distance backward as Phantom grabbed the phone from the villain’s pocket and ground it into tiny fragments of metal and glass.  

“You’re such a creep, Masters.  I think you belong in the thermos!”

There was a flash of blue light, a cry, and then silence.  Phantom landed on the floor, staring at the Fenton Thermos clenched in his hand with shock etched into every inch of his face.  “Woah.”  He glanced at the rubble on the ground as though he needed tangible evidence of what had happened moments before.  Apparently, it still hadn’t sunk in: he glanced around the space at the broken cuff and the gently humming machine, then back at the Vlad-shaped imprint in the wall.  “Um…oh, boy.  I have Vlad Masters in the thermos.  I have Vlad Plasmius in the thermos.  I have the actual mayor of Amity Park in the thermos.”

For several more seconds, he gripped his hair in one fist, regarding the Fenton Thermos as though it were a cursed object.  Then, he breathed deeply and shook his head to clear it.  After hooking the container onto its usual place on his belt, he glided to the strange machine and powered it down.  Deciding that the crisis had passed, he sighed and sat beside it with his head resting on his knees.  Valerie was just trying to decide on her next course of action when Phantom jerked his head in her direction, and charged an ectoblast in his palm.  “Who’s there?”

“It’s only me,” she said, shifting into view.  

“What the—how long have you even been there?” he half-shouted, half-whispered.  

Between her bewilderment and her adrenaline rush, she answered honestly.  “The whole time.”  

“You can’t be serious.”

She remained silent.  The ghost huffed, appearing defeated.  

“I guess this could be worse.  Since you’re here and you know what’s going on…got any ideas about what to do with this?”  He tapped the thermos.  “I mean, I can’t just leave him in here.  People are gonna notice if the mayor disappears.  If I open it again…you know that’s not gonna go over well.”

“Give it to me,” Valerie said.  Her thoughts moved automatically; the sentence left her mouth like a stream.  “Now that he’s in there, there’s nothing stopping me from turning him in.”

When he didn’t answer, she frowned.  “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.”  He looked away.  “...I know you’re right.  It’s stupid for me to be scared of him now.”  After some deliberation, he passed her the Fenton Thermos.  She felt the weight of it settle into her palm.  

“Thank you.”

“When you show the GIW that thing, make sure you ask for Director Hamilton and Dr. Maddie Fenton.  They’re the most likely to listen to you.  And—”  He frowned, trying to catch his breath.  With a look of suspicion, he twisted over his shoulder to scrutinize the machine.  Valerie could see a bulb go off in his head.  

“We have to leave right now.”  

His urgency captured her attention.  “What’s wrong?”

He clambered upright, stumbling slightly.  “I don’t know, but I’m not sticking around to find out.”

They hurried into the dimly-lit street.  Valerie considered Phantom as he settled himself on the sidewalk and removed a burner phone from his pocket.  She raised an eyebrow in bafflement.  

“Who you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters,” he deadpanned, dialing and raising it to his ear.  

“I walked right into that one.  Really, who’s—”

“I wasn’t kidding, I’m on the Fenton ghost-sightings hotline.”

“Oh.”

When the Fentons, Director Hamilton, and several DOD agents arrived on the scene, Danny allowed Valerie to do most of the talking.  After all, they were much more likely to accept the version of events offered to them by a fellow ghost hunter.  By the end of her preliminary statement in the darkened street, his mother was nearly in tears, his father appeared torn between fury and grief, and Hamilton’s mouth was hanging open in an almost comical fashion.  Of course, there was nothing funny about the situation: as soon as she had reached the end of her narrative, the man said: “You’re coming in for questioning.”

One very awkward drive to the GIW headquarters later, Danny watched Agent Alpha lead the Red Huntress to a room further down the sterile white hallway.  Through the large viewing window of the interrogation room, he could see that she seemed nervous, yet relatively comfortable; though she was flanked by two other agents, they did not restrain or threaten her.  

He, on the other hand, considered the eerie green shimmer of the ghost shield surrounding his chair, apprehensively sizing up the strength of his cuffs.  The anti-ecto coating certainly dimmed his ability to phase out of them, but he realized that he would be able to freeze them off if it came to that.  He remained seated, too befuddled by anxiety to think of doing anything else.  If he escaped now, his parents and the government would have a reason to believe that he was guilty of some misdemeanor.  Though he resolved to stay put, his breath came in deep, forceful pants.  His heart began to race.  Danny gripped the sides of his chair, gradually noticing a prickle of numbness in his fingers and jaw.  Whether the sensation ended in ten minutes or half an hour, he couldn’t tell; he only knew that when the tension finally left his shoulders, he had to slump forward onto the hardwood desk and rest his head on his hands.  The chill surface seeped through the sleeves of his clothes, and the chain on the handcuffs cut into his cheek.  He shivered, then closed his eyes.

“Phantom.”

Danny flinched awake with a small gasp, then scoured the room in search of the sound.  Someone had said his name; he was sure of it.  The table, chair, glass pane, and blank walls still looked the same; there appeared to be no one there except himself.  He rubbed the imprint on his face, wondering how much time had passed. 

“Phantom, do you hear me?”

A crackly voice sputtered to life over an intercom on the ceiling.  He jumped again, staring at the speaker with wide eyes.  Hardly daring to move, he gave a hesitant nod.  

“Momentarily, we will send in a field agent and a cross-examiner to take your statement.  If you cooperate with them, you can expect to be released.  Do you understand?”

Danny nodded again, a vague panicky feeling welling up in his chest.  What kind of ‘cooperation’ would they demand from him?  He reminded himself that at any time, he could remove the restraints and escape through one of his portals.  This idea stuck in the forefront of his brain as he picked up the clack of official footsteps moving towards the door.  Within moments, two strangers entered and circled around the table to sit before him.  The first was a heavily-built man in a familiar white suit and glasses; with increased fear, he registered the faint buzz of a concealed ecto weapon.  It was a low-level deterrent, yet it still made him uneasy.  He forced himself to look at the other individual.  To his relief, he saw someone he knew.

“It’s you!”

“It’s me,” Dr. Wachtel responded calmly.  “How are you?”

“...I’ve been better.”  As he spoke, worries burst into his mind like fireworks.  “Did the Fentons get home okay?  What happened to the Red Huntress?  Where’s—?”

“Phantom.”  His voice was quiet, yet firm.  “I’ll do what I can to answer those questions, but I need to ask some first.  It’ll be like our sessions in Champaign.”

Danny studied the eyes behind his thick, rectangular glasses.  He couldn’t identify anger or doubt in his features, and the man’s body language seemed open and inviting.  He sighed.  “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Wachtel nodded.  “The first thing I need to know is: how did Vlad Masters gain his ghostly characteristics?”

Oh, boy.  Danny took a deep breath.  “You see, there was this lab accident…”

An hour later, Dr. Wachtel adjusted his glasses and pushed back his chair, seeming a little overwhelmed; he had the same look as when Danny had informed him that there was, in fact, a ghost with an obsession for corrugated cardboard.  “That was…certainly something.  This is clearly a difficult subject for you to discuss, so I appreciate your willingness to share this information.”

As he finished the sentence, his countenance changed subtly.  It wasn’t a terribly noticeable shift, but Danny watched him with a distinct sense of foreboding.  “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“You’re right.”  He considered him with an unidentifiable expression.  “Needless to say, the authorities are very alarmed about the situation with Vlad Masters.  You’ve mentioned some of the crimes he has committed using his abilities.  Because of that…”

A hot flush of fear came over him.  “You want to know who I am when I don’t look like this.”

“Yes.”

He felt himself tense inward.  "This is my nightmare," he blurted before he could stop himself.  

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?  Once the government knows my identity, they'll be able to find me however, whenever, and for whatever reason.  I legally don't have human rights, so you can see how that makes me a little uncomfortable."  Danny glanced away, a burning feeling in his throat.  "I wish I hadn't gone to the warehouse tonight.  Then maybe this wouldn't have happened."  

"How do you figure that?"

"I don't know, alright?  When things go wrong, it's always my fault somehow.  I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing anymore."   He wiped his face.  "I'm not like Masters.  I can't tell you anything else.  Can I go home?  My family's going to worry if I don't turn up soon."

"They're expecting you, then?"

"Yeah, I'm supposed be home by eleven.  I might make it there if I hurry."

Dr. Wachtel regarded him with a mixture of shock and concern.  He stood up so quickly that Danny jumped.  "I'll be right back," he said with forced calm.  

He watched as the door slammed shut behind the scientist, feeling a deep well of despair open in the center of his chest.  He turned away from the guard and stared at the floor as the heaviness of apathy affixed his limbs in place.  When the man returned half an hour later with Director Hamilton, a DOD official, and several agents in tow, he recoiled, expecting the worst.  Instead, Wachtel motioned for him to stand up.

"It's alright, Phantom, you'll be free in a moment.  These gentlemen are going to deactivate that force field now.  If you'll wait a few minutes—"

Without processing the rest of his sentence, Danny snapped off the handcuffs with a relief so powerful that he felt almost boneless.  He summoned the last shreds of his concentration, closed his eyes, and opened a new portal that bypassed the ghost shield's limits.  He stepped through it with an air of finality, putting his foot to the floor with near elation.  He smiled at the psychologist with abandon, barely noticing the amazement on the group's faces.  When Hamilton finally spoke, it was in a quaking voice. 

"Y—you...you could have done that the entire time?"

"Well, yeah.  If I ran away, you'd have thought I had something to hide."

The GIW head opened his mouth to say something more, but Wachtel interrupted.  "Go on, go home.  You've been here far too long."

He didn't need telling twice.  With a flick of his wrist, another portal appeared that led directly to his bedroom.  After gliding through, he collapsed on his bed with a dazed feeling...the ceiling above him seemed unreal.  It was so blank without his glow-in-the-dark stars. 

Within moments, his door flew open.  Jazz stared at him with wide eyes.  "Danny!" she whispered.  "Where have you been?  It's three in the morning!  Do you know what's going on?  Something happened with Mom and Dad, they seem really upset, and—are you crying?"

"I'm not crying, you're crying."  

She crossed the room with surprising speed, looked him over from head to toe, and wrapped him in a crushing hug.  "It's going to be okay."

Somehow, he knew she was right.

Chapter Text

Another time, another place, another conference room.  Director Hamilton was filled with an acute sense of resignation as he folded his arms in front of him, tapping his pen on the tabletop.  He was dreading this particular gathering; the usual crowd was present, and each of them now knew about his disastrous attempt to capture the punk known as Phantom (minus  the details about the former mayor of Amity Park).  Had the ghost been taunting him when he pulled that disappearing act?  The knowledge that he could have exited the cell at any time, yet elected not to bothered him deeply.  It didn’t make sense. He’d watched the live footage of the specter seemingly panicking as he sat in the room by himself, becoming agitated when the forensic psychologist had touched on sensitive subjects, and seriously objecting to their attempt to discover his human counterpart.  Why had he remained?  The only possible explanation was that Phantom had principles.  If he admitted that, he'd have to agree with NASA and the DOD’s continued initiative to recruit him for various services, experiments, and projects.  The only thing he disliked more than being wrong was having others actually know that he was wrong.  So he sat there, internally fuming with resentment as the discussion carried on around him.

“...as for your field test, Dr. Sellers, we seem to have already had one, in a way.  We’d wondered what would occur if Phantom were to be removed from his comfort zone in an emergency situation, and here’s the answer: he respected the authorities and showed impressive critical thinking.  Shall we proceed with more detailed plans, then?”

“I would suggest that we make arrangements for another informational session at the university.  Do you know what he told me the other day?  Apparently, ghosts can’t see the color yellow.  To them, it looks like light green.  Imagine that!”  The astronaut smiled before sighing and recomposing himself.  “The only setback is the absence of the Fentons.  Despite their profession, he seems the most willing to approach them.  Even with the Ghost Bait, I can’t picture him interacting with the GIW in a similar way.”

Hamilton shifted uncomfortably.  He wished Jack Fenton was there to take the attention off of him; he couldn’t understand why anyone considered him a genius.  His social skills were clownish at best and utterly laughable at worst.  For this reason, the director was secretly glad when the group ruled to wait until the Fentons’ return to continue their interactions.  

“How’re your parents holding up?” Tucker asked as the trio paced in the direction of the park.  

“Not good.  I’ve never seen them like this.  I don’t remember a time when they weren’t interested in inventing or doing patrols,” answered Danny in a flat voice, kicking a stray pebble and sending it skittering into the grass.  “It feels like there’s a gray cloud over the house all the time, even when they’re not there.  Thanks for letting me hang out with you during the day.”

“No problem.”  He hesitated before continuing his thought.  “We need to talk.”

“Is something wrong?”

“We’ve noticed that you haven’t seemed like yourself lately.  I mean, you don’t talk much or play video games.  It’s like you’re just…there.  Even last night at the arcade, you wandered around and spaced out until your Ghost Sense went off.”

Danny lowered his gaze to the cracks in the sidewalk.  “...I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Sam insisted, touching his arm.  “It isn’t your fault that you’re feeling this way.  We know you were having problems even before all this, but then you essentially got kidnapped twice in one evening, sat in confinement for five hours, and had to deal with your parents once you got home—”

“No, I didn’t.  The whole finding-out-their-friend-was-an-evil-ghost-the-whole-time thing distracted them so much that they never realized I wasn’t in my room.  Jazz didn’t even have to cover for me.”

A heavy silence followed his words.  In his peripheral vision, he saw them exchange a stunned glance.  

“Dude, we didn’t know—”

A simmering resentment boiled up in him; his mouth opened to release a retort like hot steam, but before he could deliver it, a cool voice murmured in his ear.  

“Time out.”

He blinked as the area around him froze.  The clouds ceased to blow in the wind, a bird remained in mid-flutter near a nearby bench, and his friends had become odd statues.  A familiar hooded ghost appeared in front of him, gripping his staff.  “Danny.  It’s been a while.”

“Clockwork?”  Instead of lightening, the dull load on his mind seemed to increase.  “Please tell me I’m not about to screw up the timeline again.”

“No, nothing like that.”  His tone was calm as he peered down into his face with benign eyes.  “I’m here for the same reason they are: I’m worried about you.  I’ve come to give you some news that I think will help.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.  First of all, I’m aware that you’re concerned about the fate of a certain Wisconsin Ghost, which is very honorable of you.”  Clockwork set a chilly hand on his shoulder.  “The Observant High Council has taken him into custody.  You needn’t worry about him being at the mercy of your government’s interrogators and scientists; the same applies to yourself.”

Danny released a weak laugh as two weeks’ worth of fear evaporated.  “They’re not gonna notice the missing thermos?”

“It’s all taken care of,” the ghost replied with a wink.  “Although, the decision to let you reveal yourself in your own time was made without my assistance.  You’ve made yourself some allies with your escapades on the International Space Station.  As for your friends right here—well, you couldn’t ask for better ones.”

“I know,” sighed Danny.  “I don’t mean to—”

“I understand,” he said in a quiet voice.  “Your mental energy is so depleted that you have no effort left to socialize.  That’s nothing to be ashamed of, so be honest with them.  You are not the only one who’s affected when you pretend to be fine.

“There’s one more thing: I suggest that you head home and get some rest.  Your nights have been harder because your parents are not presently assisting you with minor spectral intrusions.”

“Will they be alright?” he asked.  “This has been so hard on them.”

Clockwork smiled.  “Time heals all wounds.”

The next thing he knew, Sam was waving her hand in front of his face.  “Hello?  Are you in there?”

He blinked, echoes of the conversation still ringing in his ears.  “...Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Tucker asked with concern.  “That was weird .”

“It’s okay.”  He explained about the appearance of their favorite ghostly time being.  “I’m gonna go, but I’d like you guys to know that I appreciate you.  I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh!”  Sam seemed taken aback.  “Thanks, Danny.”

“No, thank you.  I’ll see you,” he said, waving as he directed his feet back towards the large FentonWorks sign.  

Valerie followed the blinking dot in her tracking system to the Fenton household.  This no longer surprised her.  She sheathed her suit, mounted the front steps, and knocked on the door.  Within moments, shuffling footsteps on the other side informed her that she’d been heard; the lock slid back and Danny Fenton appeared.  With a pang of sadness, she noticed the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Val?  I had no idea you’d be stopping by.  Want to come in?”

“Yeah!  Sorry I didn’t message you first.”

“That’s fine.  I’m glad to see you,” he smiled, pulling out a chair for her at the dining room table.  “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, but thanks.”  Her heart pounded as she scanned the house for the two resident ghost hunters.  “Are your parents here?”

“No.”  His expression changed.  “They’ll be coming back from their trip to Lake Erie tonight.  Something happened to one of their friends, so they thought it might help to get away for a few days.  Why?  Is there anything you need?”

“Yes, there is.”  She inhaled, steeling her nerves.  “I know.”

His face drained of all color so fast that she thought he would faint.  He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, staring down into his lap instead of at her.  

“Hey, calm down!  It’s not like I’m gonna hand you over the GIW,” Valerie exclaimed hastily, alarmed at his reaction.  “D—do you need a paper bag?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he answered.  His voice was high and constricted.  He stood up, sat down again, and emitted a nervous laugh.  “I should’ve seen this coming.  It makes sense that you’d be the one to realize it after all this time.”

“How did it happen?”

“It was my own fault, really.”  He addressed his hands, which were folded tightly in front of him.  “When my parents built the ghost portal in the basement, they were so disappointed when they plugged it in and it didn’t work.  Sam and Tucker thought it would cool to see it anyway, so I took them down there.  I walked into the machine and accidentally pressed the power button…”

Danny trailed off, unconsciously rubbing his right hand.  For a moment in time, a spidery trail of green lines glowed on his skin, shooting from a large mark on his palm all the way up his forearm.  She might have imagined it; the next moment, the pattern was gone.  “What was that?” she asked.  

“...It’s…the electrical scar.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I wouldn’t either if it were me.  I’m sorry.”  She thought for a moment.  “Can I ask you something different?”

“I guess.  I sorta owe you an explanation.”

His reluctance made Valerie reconsider her visit.  “No, you don’t,” she said with emphasis, reaching out towards him.  “I shot at you, and you were my friend the entire time!  If you want me to leave, then I will.  I came here to apologize.”

“You did?”

She almost flinched at his surprise.  “Of course.  I’m sorry for all the things I did to you.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me.”  He finally met her eyes.  “When did you figure it out?”

“About an hour after the GIW released me that night.  I was thinking about what Masters—I mean, Plasmius—called you.  ‘Daniel.’  Something about that bothered me, and I couldn’t figure out why until I also thought about what reason you’d have to want to help a ghost hunter.  You told me yourself that you don’t see me or the Fentons as enemies.”  She felt a wave of apprehension as she approached her next question.  “They don’t know, do they?”

“Jazz does.  I haven’t said anything to my parents.  They hated Phantom for so long…I was thinking about telling them after they started to see that I wasn’t doing bad stuff, but now they’re sad and angry about Masters lying to them…attacking them…It’d be more than they could take right now.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been living like this.”

“Me neither.”  He seemed to wilt inward.  Valerie suspected that his next sentence was an attempt to change the subject.  “You said you had another question?”

“Well, actually two.  I hope it’s okay that I’m asking this, but…how did the other Dani—?”

“Oh.”  He seemed uncomfortable.  “Long story short: Plasmius cloned me.”

“Wait, what?”  Her mind felt like a popped balloon.  “How?  He—you—hang on a second, why is she a girl?”

“My sister thinks it’s because in vitro , two X chromosomes are genetically more stable than an X and a Y pair.  He’d tried to do it the other way first, but the…things…he made…didn’t exactly do so well.  Let’s avoid that topic, shall we?  I try not to think about it.  Besides, my biology grade isn’t particularly stellar.”

“Agreed.”  She moved on in a hurry.  “Um…do you know why my suit still works?  I thought it’d been deactivated.”

“I’m willing to bet that he only had time to remotely shut down the suit’s power pack.  That would’ve done the trick if Technus hadn’t gotten a hold of it first; now it pretty much runs on ecto energy.”

"Huh."

They sat in an awkward silence for several movements.  She couldn't for the life of her think of anything else to say, so she was relieved when Danny broke it himself.

"Look, Valerie, it's great that you dropped in.  Can we talk a little later, though?  I've been tired lately, and I'm not exactly sure when Mom and Dad will be pulling up..."

"Oh, sure!  Thanks for everything."

They shook hands.  Danny waved her over to the kitchen sideboard and offered her a dark rectangle of fudge.  "It's dangerous to go alone!  Take this with you."

Valerie laughed.  "I'll see you around."

"Take care, Red."

That night, they both slept more peacefully then they had in a long time.

Chapter Text

Danny shifted restlessly over the city skyline at midnight, green aura casting odd shapes on the tops of heightened buildings.  He concentrated the energy in his core and radiated his Ghost Sense in every direction.  When nothing occurred, he felt no less at ease.  Something was wrong.  He tapped the Fenton Phone in his ear and prepared to radio Valerie.  They’d been coordinating their patrols for a month, which made the long nights so much less overwhelming.  He wondered whether she’d seen or heard anything suspicious.  

“Red, does something feel off to you?”

“Negative,” came the answer in crackling tones.  “Do you think there’s a problem?”

“I don’t know.”  He flitted back and forth, finding himself drawn in the direction of the city center.  As he increased his flight speed, an acrid scent of burnt citrus assaulted his senses.  He coughed and peered down at the polished, modern Axiom Labs building.  “Scratch that.  Yeah, something’s up.”

“Would you mind telling me what it is?” she asked impatiently, abruptly gliding into sight beside him.  “Hang on—you’re right, the carbon dioxide detector in my visor is going crazy.  And these thermal readings aren’t normal.  Here, take a look.”  She slipped off the helmet and placed it in his hands.  He poked his head inside, feeling briefly disorientated by the beeping side panels and bright colors.  

“So this is what it’s like to be Iron Man.”  He focused on the vivid splashes of red and orange from within the right wing of the second floor.  “I see it.  I’m gonna check it out.”  After returning her headset, he turned intangible and ducked through the wall, eyes watering as the rancid scent grew stronger.  

He darted through  the darkened offices peppering the corridor between chemistry laboratories, pulling through drawers and bins until he finally moved through a locked door into a faceful of warm, wispy white smoke.  Through the shifting cloud, bright blue and green flames licked the countertops and tiles.  He blasted it with ice and was stumped when nothing occurred; whatever chemicals the blaze had already consumed had rendered his efforts ineffective. Danny rushed into the hallway and reached an intangible hand through the glass coating the fire alarm.  Immediately, a sharp blare sounded through the building, announced with flashing red lights and another loud siren.  He contacted Valerie.  “Call 911, the GIW, and the Fentons.  There’s an ecto fire, and it's getting bigger.”

“Ghost fire?  Now I’ve heard everything.  On it.”

“Thanks.  I’m going to see if there’s anyone still in here.  Over.”  He pounced through the ceiling, finding himself amidst a combination of computer rooms, bookshelves, and more office spaces with name placards on the desks.  He ducked over and under furniture, behind tables, and inside supply closets until he turned a corner and abruptly discovered a custodian lying spread-eagle on the floor beside a cart of cleaning supplies.   Without pausing to think, he scooped him up and hurried into the moonlight outside.  

Several individuals in white lab coats milled anxiously on the curb, listening to the Red Huntress as she answered from the person on the other end of the phone line.  He settled the man in arms on the grass as gently as possible, trying to ignore the gasps of fear and shock from the bystanders. Danny directed a silent thank you at her as she immediately rushed to the cleaner’s side, checking his pulse.  He rushed back inside and cleared the remainder of the third floor, then popped through the outer walls to scour the second story.  

As soon he entered, the white fumes stung his eyes and covered his throat.  He coughed, peering uncertainly at the hazy corners and shapes looming around him.  Trails of vivid cool color flickered around him, traveling through every consumable surface with the determination of the hydra.  The shrieking alarm clawed at his ears like a wild animal.  He moved forward, hand against the wall for some guidance.  All his concentration shifted to searching out the faintest murmur of a human heart—

There it was!  His core honed in on a weak electrical impulse.  Danny twisted into the stairwell, following a glowing EXIT sign.  As he felt his way down the steps, a high-pitched cough reached him; hands outstretched like a blind man, he finally smacked into a shoulder.  He grasped the person’s wrist, let the cold flush of intangibility wash over them both, and lifted them through the air.  As he opened his eyes to the summer night, he was greeted with more flashing lights and screaming sirens.  To his relief, he spotted the Fenton RV parked across the street.  Turning his attention to the rest of the vehicles, he found a pair of ambulances directly below him.  He sank lower until his companion’s feet touched the ground.  Without the disorientating smoke, he could see that she was a mousy woman in a three-piece suit.  Danny supported her as a paramedic stepped forward to place an oxygen mask on her ash-stained face.  

“Phantom!”

Coughing, he turned around.  Several GIW agents and Agent Alpha hurried towards him, appearing anxious.  He noticed that he held a device that looked very much like a green fire extinguisher.  The man  looked into his face with a desperate seriousness.  

“This is Fenton Foam,” he said clearly, pointing to the nozzle.  “It’s specifically designed to block the energy that enables an ecto fire to burn.  We need this spread around room 101 because that laboratory is holding the most volatile chemicals.  Can you get to that area and disperse this in the fume hood?”

He nodded, taking the invention.  “Is everybody out?” he rasped.

“All personnel are now accounted for.”

Good.  Danny readied his hands around the hose and the trigger, then entered the first floor with a sense of dread.  Though the vapors and heat were far less intense, he still struggled to make out the room numbers.  Finally, he stumbled into the correct doorway and accomplished the task, faintly registering an ominous creaking sound from the ceiling and walls.  He reemerged, the whirling sensation of lightheadedness hovering on the edges of his brain. It took him several moments to realize that the officials had reapproached him, along with his parents.  He looked from them to the white clouds pouring from the windows and roof.  “It’s too bad you don’t have more of that stuff,” he gasped, rubbing his eyes.  

“It’s in our warehouse on the other side of town,” Jack said, sounding irritated and scared.  “It should be on its way soon.”

“You mean…that warehouse?  The one where V—I mean, your ghost shield was?”

“That’s the one.”

“No problem.”  Shaking his head to clear it, Danny stretched open another portal.  “Go on through, and you’ll end up there.  Hurry, ‘cause I don’t know how long I can keep this gateway open.”  

With a few moment’s hesitation, his father stepped through the swirling green vortex.  He reappeared a minute later with a large shipping crate.  “There’s more where that came from,” he announced, straightening himself.  He and Alpha ventured back and forth four more times, their hands full of similar containers.  Danny felt his ability to maintain the connection wane.  His arm shook with exertion.  Once both men had returned to the chaotic parking lot, he cut off the flow of energy.  The portal vanished.  He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, breathing hard.  The next thing he knew, Alpha had deposited another aerosol of Fenton Foam into his arms.

Trip after trip after trip.  Each time he sprayed the flames, a hissing sound alerted him to the diminished presence of burning material.  His body felt enveloped in heat and sweat and dry air currents; every few seconds, he bolted to a lower level window and drank a few breaths of fresher air.  He gasped, his head spun, and his hands and feet became ever more clumsy and inefficient.  It was like being in the vacuum of space, he thought, except up there he could see the stars.  

By the time Danny finally flew out of a high window, he found that he could not sustain the power and lift; the pavement rushed towards him like a scene from a nightmare.  He managed to decrease the speed of his fall, but when his foot connected with the sidewalk, his ankle rolled underneath him and he tumbled sideways.  The white rings traveled from his chest over his head and feet; the dark jumpsuit disappeared to reveal orange and black protective gear of the same type.  As the jolt of the impact passed, he screwed his eyes shut as though the darkness would banish the noise, the bright lights, the stench of fire, and his confusion.  

The ground under his cheek reverberated with heavy footsteps.  He blinked, recognizing the vivid shade of Day-Glo orange at his side.  His father was here; everything would be well.   He felt a frantic tapping on his face.  

“Danny!  Danny, are you alright?” he half-shouted, resting his palm under Danny’s head while the other hand fumbled at his wrist to measure his pulse.  

“Dr. Fenton, stand back, that’s an unpredictable high-class spectral entity—” warned a far-away voice.  

“That spectral entity is my kid, so you stand back and get help now!” came the furious retort.  Danny listened vaguely as Jack continued to speak to him in a low mutter.  “It…it’ll be fine, you’ll see.  Your mother’s coming with the first aid kit from the back of the van.  Hold on a little longer.  Do you hear me?  Say something, son.”

“...Dad—”  He gave a string of jarring coughs, and the gray curtain hovering on the edge of his vision expanded until it was all he could see.  

He hovered at the great viewing window of the cupola, staring breathlessly at the twinkling lights in the distance.  With his nose touching the glass, his eyes drank in countless swirls of spectacular blues, caramel, and streaky lilac on the endless horizon.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Danny startled and looked to the right.  For a moment, he wondered whether a portion of the view had somehow made its way into the International Space Station.  A cloaked figure drifted beside him, gleaming stars dotting the gaping mouth of his body, which seemed to be liquid cosmos.  A pale, moon-like face with slanted eyes gazed at him thoughtfully.  

“Who are you?”

“Nocturne, the ghost of sleep,” he answered in his creaky, echoing tones.  

As he contemplated this, Danny caught sight of his reflection.  His own confused face confronted him.  “Does that mean this is a dream?”

“Yes.”

They sat quietly for a long time, admiring the infinite sea outside.  Eventually, the ghost’s surreal voice slid to his perception like warm water.  

“You’ve been here a long time.”

“It’s the only place I feel safe,” he answered automatically, feeling a twinge of sadness.  

“It doesn’t have to be this way.  Go home, and you’ll see.  You’ll see…”

When he blinked, the arrayed galaxies were replaced by stark alabaster ceiling tiles and white walls.  How strange.  As he registered the soft weight of sheets tucked around his chin, a smooth touch ran across his forehead like a stream, ruffling his hair.  The arm that passed in front of his face had teal sleeves.  “Mom?”

“Danny,” came a relieved sigh.  She brought his hand above the covers and passed him a glass filled with glowing ectoplasm.  He swallowed it without thinking; as the taste of lemon-lime soda filled his mouth, he realized that he was propped upright with pillows.  More cushions supported his feet, which were elevated.  A soothing chill resonated against the skin of his heel, but the metal railings on the bed, medical equipment, and arrangement of the room made him nervous.

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

He summoned a few scattered images from the corners of awareness…the thick smoke, the lapping tongues of viridescent fire, the piercing noise…

“That laboratory burned.”  He pictured the billowing suds of Fenton Foam.  “I tried to stop it with that stuff…then I fell…”  At the blurred recollection of flurried movement, a dull beige ceiling, and white light, he frowned.  “After that…hold on,” he said, realizing the significance of the viscous green drink in his cup.  He looked from it to his mother, a hot apprehension lodged in his throat.  She merely smiled back at him, wiping her eyes.

“You don’t have to hide anymore.”  She squeezed his hand.  “We’re so proud of you.”

“Y-You…you are?”

“How could we not be?  You’ve been so brave, sweetie.  I don’t think we could ever apologize to you enough.”  Maddie wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  “Your father’s trying, though.  Early this morning, he started ordering the ingredients to make you enough lemon bars for the rest of the year.”  She pointed to the other side of the hospital room, where the man was fast asleep on a pull-out sofa.  

They shared a look of combination exasperation and fondness. 

"His heart's in the right place," Danny said.  He drained the last of his ectoplasm with a sense of total contentment.  "You know what he says—"

"'There's no metaphysics on this earth like dessert," she finished.  

"It's not just true on earth.  In fact, that's the one thing he and ghosts everywhere agree on.  I can tell you that from personal experience."

Maddie chuckled, shaking her head.  "This is going to take some getting used to."

Chapter Text

Mr. Lancer pinched the bridge of his nose.  “This…this is the most bizarre parent-teacher conference I’ve ever been in, and considering that this is the most haunted town in the United States, that’s saying something.  Let me see if I can get this straight, Mr. Fenton.  You suffered a severe case of ecto-contamination two years ago, gained a few unnatural abilities, and became this city’s self-appointed defender against other paranormal entities?”

“That about sums it up."

“I suppose that explains a lot,” the man commented wearily, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.   “The falling grades, the tardiness, the falling asleep…I seem to remember that during your freshman year, you abruptly developed a reputation for clumsiness. Simply to satisfy my curiosity, can you explain that?”

“It’s hard to do simple things when your arms and legs keep randomly disappearing on you.  For a couple months after the lab accident, I had trouble holding stuff, moving around, and focusing.”

“ The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes .”  His teacher shut his eyes and took a deep breath, folding his hands in front of his chin.  “Until today, I believed that you had been causing classroom disruptions on purpose.  Daniel, I had no idea…It makes sense now.  I’m glad you’re getting the support you needed all along.”  He lifted his head and addressed all three of them.  “When school starts next week, I'll have no problem with him having a permanent pass or his service dog.

Danny smiled as he stroked the sleek, black head that rested on his thigh.  Liquid brown eyes peered back at him.  

“Thank you, Mr. Lancer.  When Dr. Wachtel recommended pairing Danny with Major, we didn’t expect such a noticeable result.  His sister and his friends could tell that he was doing better right away; he’s acting more like himself than he has been in months.”  Maddie patted the animal fondly, slightly adjusting his red vest.  

"That's very good to hear.  Is there anything else you wanted to discuss today?"

"Yeah!  I have something to show you.  Remember when we read From the Earth to the Moon by Jules Verne?"  Danny carefully removed an embroidered insignia from his pocket.  "This summer, I figured out how to make ghost portals anywhere, so I may or may not have trespassed on the International Space Station—"

"What now?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it either!  I was seriously debating on whether or not to ask Jeffrey Williams for his autograph.  Anyway, NASA was really nice about the whole thing and decided to give me these," he exclaimed, pointing to the object in his palm.  "This is a mission patch from Expedition 13.  Dr. Sellers said I earned it for keeping the administrators and the astronauts on their toes."

“Is there a teachers’ version of that?”  Lancer asked, gaping at the deep blue star with white borders.  “I mean, thank you very much for thinking of me when you received this.  It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“We know how you feel,” Jack piped, laying a thick hand on Danny’s shoulder.  “So we brought you a gift!”

“It is one of your inventions?” he asked, apprehensively eyeing the package the man revealed from behind his back.  He didn’t wish to dwell on what had occurred the last time he’d operated an electronic he had purchased from FentonWorks.  

“That would’ve been neat, but no.  It’s a box of Mackinac Island fudge.  Enjoy!” 

As the educator accepted the parcel with a hesitant nod of gratitude, Maddie happened to glance at her watch.  “We should get going if we want to be on time for our meeting with Mr. Grey.  It was a pleasure, Mr. Lancer.”  

Drs. Fenton shook his hand in turn.  He returned Danny’s wave as the boy walked away with his parents, holding Major’s leash with a confidence Lancer hadn’t seen from him in…well, ever.  An emotion he couldn’t identify filled his heart like the grains of sand in an hourglass.  This year, he’d do right by his most troubled student.  Despite the strangeness, he had to try.

“It’s awesome that you don’t have to worry about doing assignments while you’re fighting ghosts,” Tucker concluded, grabbing a regular lemon bar from the plate Dr. Fenton had left on the kitchen table for the four of them.  “‘I can’t believe we got through two years of our high school career without hearing you actually say, ‘A ghost ate my homework’ to a teacher.”

“To be entirely fair, our excuses got pretty wild towards the end.”  Sam grinned.  “I think we only got away with the stuff we did because so many weird things started happening around here at once.  ‘Mr. Falluca, the Box Ghost attacked me with a roll of bubble wrap’ doesn’t seem so out of ordinary anymore, does it?” 

Danny laughed, remembering that particular morning in lurid detail.  Jazz passed him a glowing version of their dessert that their father had set aside especially for him.  He accepted it with anticipation as he rubbed his dog behind the ears.  Sam watched him, thinking while she dunked her portion into a glass of milk.  

“It’s not that I don’t love Major, but what happened to Apollo?” 

“He lives with Klemper and the other blobs.  Whenever I miss him, I bring him treats.  He’s so much more at home in the Zone,” he answered.  “It wouldn’t be fair to him if I kept him here everyday, no matter how much Ghost Bait I shared with him.  Don’t worry, Klemper takes really good care of them—he even taught them tricks.”

“Besides, there’d be a legal issue if we tried to take Apollo into the school building.  Major doesn’t have that problem because of the specifications in the Americans with Disabilities Act,” Jazz added.  “He even sleeps in Danny’s room.”

“It’s nice that he’s right there.  It also helped when you put all my astronaut stuff back where it was.”  Danny smiled at his sister.  “Guys, she even arranged my glow-in-the-dark stars into constellations.  How cool is that?”

“On a scale of one to ten, a solid ten.”  Tucker offered them a thumbs-up.  “Whatever helps you spend less time worrying about ghosts.”

Danny’s core pulsed.  “Speaking of ghosts…”  He transformed and cautiously drifted towards the basement door, the Labrador at his heels.  As the group crept down the basement steps, the air grew colder.  Foreboding shot up his spine as he neared the corner.  “Who’s there?”

“It’s us, dipstick.”

“Don’t call him names!  We’re here to apologize, remember?”

“Sorry, Kitty, it’s the force of habit.”

Curiosity piqued, he ventured forward to discover the usual crowd in a large group, all bearing sheepish expressions.  Before he could say a word, the Box Ghost shot towards him like a bullet, bearing a wrapped present in his arms.  

“Behold!  In the spirit of reconciliation, we are offering you this rectangular repository!”

“If this is another one of your tarantula terrariums, I’m pulling out the Fenton Bazooka,” said Danny, squinting at him in suspicion.  

“Another what ?”  Technus’s strident voice erupted from over his head. 

Johnny cringed.  “That’s…that’s not right.”

Skulker pushed his way to the front, motioning for silence.  “The reason we’ve come,” he growled, frowning at the rest of them in disapproval, “is to make amends for the…ordeal earlier.”

Danny stared at him blankly.  

“You may need to be more specific,” said Ember, shaking her fiery head.  “After all, you do keep threatening to take his pelt.”

“You’re one to talk!  You and the rugrat over there abducted his entire family.”

“Well, at least I didn’t—”  She caught sight of the halfa’s expression of irritated confusion.  “Nevermind.  We’re sorry for that whole thing with the lunchbox.  We were…what was it again?”

“Overstepping his boundaries and being insensitive,” whispered Bertrand. 

“Yeah, that.”

“Now, you must open the corrugated cardboard container!  Beware!”

With a heavy sensation of doubt, Danny accepted the box and furtively removed the paper.  Before he could unfold the top flaps himself, they burst open of their own accord; a miniature model of the solar system expanded to life before his eyes, circling around his face like Christmas lights.  As his heartbeat danced a faster rhythm, his mouth dropped open with pleasant surprise.  

“There ya go.  Do you like it?”

Words escaped him, but they seemed to understand.

The End

"The stars don't look bigger, but they do look brighter." —Sally Ride