Chapter Text
Jack grumbled as pushed open the door to his son’s bedroom. His children were at school and Maddie was out for a conference, so when he’d asked her if she knew where the duct tape was and she said Danny was the last one she saw with it, Jack himself had to get it. The school day was nowhere near over so if Jack wanted it, he had to go look for it himself! Couldn’t just tell Danny to get it for him!
Jack looked around the room, though his minor irritation was settled as he did so. Danny had been so distant lately. Jack hadn’t been in his son’s room in over a year at this point, never had reason to. His son’s room really hadn’t changed any, even if his son had. He rose his eyes to the ceiling, smiling as he saw the glow in the dark stars still up there. That was a memory he hadn’t thought of in a long time. Danny, maybe eleven or twelve, realizing the stars he’d put up years before just weren’t right. They didn’t match the sky.
So he and Jack had pulled the old ones down, bought more, and put them back up, matching them to constellations. Jack had picked up Danny, holding him above his head while Danny placed the stars. It was the first time Jack had ever thought Danny had felt heavy after holding him for some time. His son was growing up.
He went to the side wall, his purpose here momentarily forgotten, where shelves held up models of rockets, where the walls were covered in diagrams of stars and pictures of space. Danny loved making these rockets, asking for multiples of the same ones sometimes so he could rebuild his favorites. He’d made, what? One every two or three weeks? Then proudly put them on display here, replacing the older version if it was a replica, asking his father to put in more shelves if it was a truly new one.
Jack studied the shelf, looking for his favorite, smiling when he found it. It was easily the worst put together one, some pieces put in the wrong spot, too much glue in others.
It was one he and Danny had put together. Jack worked with so much machinery, he thought he could help. And he had, his young son would’ve done much worse without his help, used even more glue. After that, Danny had wanted to do them by himself. He wanted to improve on his own, get as good as his father through working at it.
Jack scanned over the shelf, noting the heavy swath of dust along everything. When was the last time Danny had built one?
He blinked back tears, bittersweet as they were. Danny was growing up. He’d be sixteen soon. Yet he seemed to struggle so much. Struggled to stay awake, do homework, be on time. Jack had begun noticing scars on his arms, originally he’d been afraid Danny was hurting himself, but the wounds didn’t fit. Some of them looked like they were from fighting. Jack wanted to confront Danny about them when he actually had one, when Jack had fresh evidence Danny couldn’t disregard as he had so much else whenever Jack or Maddie tried to understand. Even his friends seemed to have moved on, Jack hadn’t seen them in so long, when they used to practically live here, their families even having keys to the front door.
Then Danny never had fresh injuries, to the point Jack wondered if he had just forgotten whatever caused the scar.
Jack spun slowly, trying to feel close to his son, find his interests. But nothing spoke to him. He sighed, carding a hand through his hair. He missed his son. Sure, Danny was here, but he felt like a ghost of himself sometimes. Not true ghosts, like the ones in the portal, but the ones that slipped through the world, invisible and silent, fading to shadows.
Oh, well. He wasn’t going to find the answers to his son by looking at his dust. Jack had noticed the duct tape while he had been thinking of happier memories. He made his way to the bedside table, picking up the silvery circle. What had Danny needed it for? His bedside was an odd place to have it.
Jack wasn’t entirely sure what happened next. One moment the tape was held securely in his hand, the next he’d somehow managed to drop it, though he had no idea how. It rolled under the bed.
Returning to his grumbling, Jack dropped down, pressing himself to the floor and looking underneath. He saw the tape quickly, it was surprisingly clean down here, only one other item, a box pushed up under the headboard. He drew the tape back to him, preparing to be assaulted by dust. That’s when he realized there was none, not where he was. There seemed to be plenty at the foot of the bed, but it steadily decreased the further forward he looked. It was completely spotless around the box.
He couldn’t make out much of it. It was maybe medium sized in width and length but fairly short, white, and had a handle. It looked like there was a lid on it.
Danny couldn’t bother to dust his rockets, yet whatever this was he reached for frequently enough to keep it free of dust?
Jack didn’t think anything of it as he grabbed the handle, pulling it to him. White box and silver tape in hand, Jack returned to his feet, studying the box.
He sat down on Danny’s bed, heard it protest under his weight, but he paid it no mind. The closed box offered no new information on its exterior, the lid was as white as the rest of it, no symbol. He heard things clattering around in it. It was a simple latch, no lock.
Jack had always said he would be the type of father to trust his kids, to let them come to him. To not snoop. And he’d kept to that for as long as he’d had kids. But Danny wasn’t talking to them. He wasn’t talking to anyone in his school, his (former?) friends, his sister.
Not letting himself think further, he popped the latch up, opening the lid, wondering if maybe, just maybe, now he’d know how to help, if this held answers he’d sought for so long.
Instead, the box seemed to just give him more questions as he sifted through it. Needles and thread, gauze, splotches of red and green. A pill bottle rattled and he pulled it out, frowning. The name on the bottle didn’t match Danny, though the date of birth did, and the label said it was pain medication. Quite a high dose from the looks of it. Panic seized Jack. Drugs? Was Danny addicted to pain medication? But he didn’t act it. He was still alert and quick-witted. Jack reread the bottle, noticing the fill date and amount. The bottle was nearly six weeks old. He dumped the pills into his hand. Six weeks old and seven out of thirty were missing. If Danny was addicted, shouldn’t he have run through these within a week or two? Instead he’d barely taken any?
Jack poured the pills back in the bottle, though he slid the bottle into his pocket. Finally, evidence. Something Danny couldn’t deny.
He continued to shuffle through the box. There was a lot of medical supplies. Were the red splotches in this blood? What was the green? He passed scissors and antiseptic, burn cream and more gauze.
Something bright pink caught his eye when he moved a pack of bandages to the side. He reached in and grabbed it.
It was a USB stick, with a tag attached to.
IN CASE I DON’T COME BACK
What the actual hell was his son into? That had him with pain medication that he’d somehow lied to get and a reason to believe it was possible he would just not come home without warning?
Jack shut the case back up, keeping the USB and pills on him, and tucked it back where he found out. He hurried out the door, closing it behind him, forgetting the duct tape he’d came in for.
He hurried down the stairs, USB in clenched hand. It felt like it was burning him through his glove, the answers he needed, the way to save Danny. Because Jack had no doubt now - whatever it was Danny was involved in, whatever it was that had him with medical supplies, it had his son’s life at risk. And his son knew it.
As soon as he entered the lab, he beelined for his desk, shoving the stuff he’d been working on out of his way. His son came first, his family did. Before anything else, even ghosts. Jack fumbled to get the USB in, having to flip it four times before it finally went in.
His entire attention went to the screen as he pulled up the USB’s data. Various files and folders, that just caused him more confusion. Folders labeled Enemy, Ally, Frenemy, Human, and another that just looked like a keyboard smash of letters. Other than the folders, there was only one file in the primary folder.
WATCH ME it said.
Damn right he was going to watch it!
Jack double clicked on the file, clicking it to full screen.
And then Jack got thrown for yet another loop. Was emotional whiplash a thing?
On his screen, from the USB in his son’s room, was the white haired ghost known only as Phantom, appearing to be adjusting a camera. Was Danny helping Phantom? There was no way! Was Phantom hurting him? Using him for access to his parents? Thoughts whirled in his head until he slammed on his mental brakes. Ask questions after watching the thing claiming to have answers.
He pressed play.
“I think it’s recording this time?” The ghost asked, too close to the lens. “Oh, there! I see the red light!”
Phantom pulled back, sitting down on a bed Jack didn’t recognize. Nothing in the video looked familiar.
“Hi! Phantom here!” He said, a wide grin on his face. He lifted a hand, then jokingly slapped himself across the face, rolling his eyes. “That is so lame.”
Jack couldn’t help it, he chuckled. In the few seconds Jack had watched, the ghost was disturbingly human, in his movements, his vocal patterns, his expressions. He was a very good mimic.
“Well, let’s get to the good stuff, right?” Phantom said, leaning forward. The smile fell from his face. He seemed to be staring off into the distance, or quite intently at something offscreen.
“If you’re watching this I’m missing. I’m dead or being tortured where you’ll never find me.” Phantom’s eyes dropped to his hands, voice going soft. “I hope I’m dead.”
Jack’s heart clenched. The pain on Phantom’s face was so real Jack almost believed it for a moment. No matter how good he was at mimicry, he was still a ghost.
Phantom took a deep breath, then rose his eyes back to the camera. “Cuz that’s the good stuff, isn’t it? A menace being eliminated? An unfeeling mockery of humanity like me getting what I deserve?”
Jack remembered saying that last line to Phantom, a few weeks back. Jack pulled out of the video, checking the date stamp. The video was only a month old. He let it play again.
“Ancients, I’m going off tangent, aren’t I?” Phantom said, a self-mocking smile on his face. “Anyway. I’m making this because I recently realized… just how many people want me dead. Deader. Re-dead? Though I think there’s still more who want to dissect me and then kill me.”
The smile fell from his face, green tears slipping slowly from his eyes. “I just… I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that. Being cut into. Whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’ve paid for them. By the Ancients, I have never stopped paying for them.” Phantom’s head fell forward, his arms coming up to meet them, quiet sobs echoing. “I’m so tired of paying for them.”
Emotional whiplash was definitely a thing, Jack decided, as he wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold Phantom, who looked like nothing more than a child. Not the wise-cracking ghost who waged war with other ghosts over Amity, not the arrogant so-called-hero who’d caused more property damage than even Jack had. Just a child, all alone.
“Wow, I’m really going to need to edit this, huh?” He finally said, laughing without humor.
“This is a story, so I need to start from the beginning. What use are secrets to someone who no longer exists?”
Jack leaned forward, ears perking up at secrets. What would he learn about the ghost? A weakness?
The mental image of Phantom curling into himself while he cried forced itself forward. Even if he found a weakness now, he wasn’t sure he could shoot the ghost child - the crying, dead child - anymore. But he still listened, he’d still intervene if it was something bad.
“My parents are scientists, inventors. And in 2004 they built what was supposed to be their lives’ work. But it didn’t work. They were so sad. I… I just wanted to help. I only wanted to help. I wanted them to smile again.”
Jack felt uncomfortable. It reminded him of the portal, it had been 2004 when they’d been having issues.
“So I went down to their lab. I wasn’t supposed to, I was expressly forbidden to do so. But I had a code for emergency use, in case there was something urgent where I needed to be down there. I had a hazmat suit, the whole family did. I knew I was supposed to put it on, so I did.” Phantom said, gesturing to his familiar black and white suit.
Something was wrong. This was too familiar.
“Seriously, though. What the hell I was gonna do? A fourteen year old against technology two people with five degrees between them couldn’t get to work?”
Phantom pulled off his gloves, though they remained beneath the frame. “I did it, though. I fixed it.” He said, holding his palms up. “Don’t play around with electricity, kids.”
Jack felt sick, looking at the ghost’s palms. The left one had a circle that burned green, branching off like a lightning strike, disappearing under the sleeve. A similar one was on his right palm. It didn’t have the circle, but it had the same distinct pattern of electrical injury.
He paused the video, Phantom’s wry smile behind scarred hands frozen. This could have been Danny. Jack could’ve been the one burying a loved son, gone too soon by his own invention? Jack’s heart was heavy for the scientists who’d had to bury Phantom’s human body, but he was so grateful that it wasn’t him who had to. He let the video resume.
“I fucked up. It’s one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. I hope I’ve paid for it by now. It took my life. I’ve bled more times than I can count for it. I’ve probably given it my life a second time, if you’re watching this. I’ve lost the friends I loved. My family hates what I’ve become. Hell, they may have been the ones to kill me!”
Jack was absolutely never shooting this child again and he was getting so many hugs.
“They’re why I’m even making this. Their newest invention… it nearly hurt as much as my death. They were disappointed I managed to escape before I lost consciousness.” He said, voice slightly hitching when he sobbed.
Phantom’s eyes fell from the camera again. “Have you figured out who I am yet?”
Jack’s heart was beating too fast, but it didn’t make sense. He and Maddie had shot an electrical based weapon at Phantom, they’d noticed he had the most adverse reactions to those (because that’s what killed him, oh no, had they made him relive it in any way?). It was a little over a month ago. He’d managed to fly away, though, and he’d almost immediately fell off their tracker.
Had Danny come home that night?
“I can’t tell them. I don’t know what they’d do.” Phantom continued, trying to take a deep breath but it was interrupted by a broken cry. “If they don’t take it well. If they think I’m lying or faking or overshadowing. At least if they kill or dissect me like this, I’ll still know they loved some part of me. At least I could have that peace.”
Jack’s hands were covering his mouth as he shook his head back and forth. It… it wasn’t possible. Danny had a heartbeat. Danny had grown.
Danny had changed after the portal.
Phantom sighed, burying ungloved hands in white hair. “In 2004, my parents built a portal to the Ghost Zone. I accidentally turned it on. It’s my fault the ghosts are here. It’s all my fault. So none of you are actually wrong to blame me. Everything since then that’s happened? My fault.” Phantom was crying in earnest now, not even trying to pull himself together.
No. No no no no.
“And then I didn’t even die right.” He said scornfully. “I couldn’t even fucking die right.” He rose his head, green eyes wet, nose tinged with green. “I’m half human.”
A bright light triggered, throwing off the video’s white balance. It was possible to just barely make out the darkened shape of a halo moving up Phantom. The halo disappeared as it passed Phantom’s head.
Jack clenched the edge of his desk, unwilling to believe it, knowing it’s true, begging it not to be, convinced he was looking at the answer to everything with his son.
Danny Fenton sat where Phantom had been. “I wish I had died,” he said, voice no longer echoing. “Became entirely ghost. Then I at least would have only needed to protect the city and not get shot. But, no, I wasn’t lucky enough to die. I wouldn’t have failed at being a good protector. I wouldn’t be failing school. I wouldn’t have failed my friends. I wouldn’t be a failure in my family’s eyes. Well, not for the same reason, at least.”
Did Danny really think that? That they thought he was a failure? Had they made him feel that way?
Considering how often they’d shot him, hurt him, Jack guessed he couldn’t really blame his son.
“I wonder sometimes. If I killed my human half, could my ghost half survive? Could I become a full ghost? Could I stop seeing my sister’s disappointment? The way my mom sighs and just signs off on whatever I bring home, not even bothering to read what I’ve done this time? Stop seeing my dad’s eyes every time he notices scars I can’t explain, how ashamed of me he is? I could stop being bullied, stop being shoved into lockers. Stop seeing the way Sam and Tucker are just so tired of me? And just… fly. Just watch the stars. Or would I die? Leave this city with only human protectors who can’t take as hard a beating as I can? It isn’t fair to them, to die for a mistake I made. Maybe eventually the ghosts will stop. And then I can rest.”
Jack was sobbing, hearing the pain in his son’s voice, the exhaustion, the brokenness. How could they have missed so much? How could they not notice that he wanted to die, that he had died?
Danny’s eyes had gotten a far away look as he talked, lost in his own thoughts. He straightened back up suddenly, taking a deep breath and wiping tears away. “Nice one, dumbass. I’ll get around to redoing it eventually with a lot less emo.” He said, leaning forward.
The video ended and Jack stared at the screen. It was still on the last shot. Danny was close to the screen, arm reached off to the side, blue eyes focused on something off screen, slightly biting his tongue in thought.
Undeniably, this was his son.