Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Streaks of lightning branched across the sky, followed shortly after by deep, rolling thunder. The sound carried on a strengthening breeze. Rain fell in a steady patter, peppering the sidewalk with heavy droplets. Sam mutinously picked up her pace, clenching her fists as she headed home. 

No part of Sam wanted to go home. She’d fought with her parents at breakfast, and then spent the day wandering Amity Park by herself. A stupid argument. A lonely day. Out by herself, bouncing from one inconsequential spot to another until the sun set. Sam told her parents she might stay at Tucker’s or Danny's house so they wouldn’t call. Her parents didn't need to know that Tucker was visiting his cousins for the day. Her parents didn't need to know that Danny… 

Sam grimaced, thinking about Danny. 

Sam still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Danny– where their friendship had gone wrong. She remembered how close they were in middle school, and how much they’d looked forward to high school together. 

Sam, Tucker, and Danny were once inseparable. A perfect trio, never apart. After years of steady friendship, they had spent another summer together, immersed in each other's company. They saw movies, hung out at the Nasty Burger, played video games, wandered the park late at night, slept over at each other’s houses in wild rotation. A perfect summer , Tucker called it on more than one occasion.

And it had been perfect– up until two weeks before school started.

It started with Danny passing on a sleepover, saying he didn’t feel well. Sam and Tucker thought nothing of it at first. A power outage left the town without power that weekend, after all. It had been a boring, miserable weekend without air conditioning or video games. An awful weekend to be sick, but nothing to worry about, surely. 

Until it happened again. And again. 

And again.

An entire summer spent together– and suddenly radio silence. Excuses. Not always the same excuse, but similar enough– and frequent enough– for Sam and Tucker to worry. That worry eventually twisted into something more akin to hurt.

Sam hoped that things would improve when school started, that those two weeks were nothing more than a fluke… but that hope died within hours of starting high school. A golden opportunity to speak with Danny and clear the air only made Sam and Tucker realize one thing: Danny was avoiding them.

He wouldn’t look Sam in the eyes. He would disappear the moment classes ended, and could not be found during lunch. Sam tried to talk to him during class, when she knew he couldn’t slip away, but it was like speaking with a statue. Danny’s answers came clipped and noncommittal. Almost practiced.

For a month, they tried to root out answers from their impassive friend.

Eventually, Sam and Tucker stopped trying.

Six months had passed since school started– since Danny changed– since the ghosts appeared.

Sam and Tucker both still wondered if the ghosts caused Danny’s sudden change. It seemed possible, considering he always ran at the slightest whiff of a ghost. Everyone knew that Danny was deathly afraid of ghosts. If anything, it was a running joke at Casper High: Danny Fenton, son of eccentric ghost hunters Madeline and Jack Fenton– terrified of the Box Ghost.

Part of Sam couldn't blame Danny for his fear. Not all of the ghosts that visited Amity were as harmless at the Box Ghost. The Drs. Fenton constantly drilled it into their heads to be vigilant, and to never trust a ghost. They instilled caution into the town, pairing it with ghost shields and an arsenal of whirring green and silver weapons. They reiterated over and over that ghosts were nothing more than echoes of former human consciousness– unfeeling, uncaring, non-sentient.

And yet… there was Phantom.

Sam often thought of Phantom– tried to understand him. He wasn't like the other ghosts, that much was plain to see. Phantom chased down other ghosts with a passion that rivaled the Fentons. He fought ghosts many times his size, and was often injured in the process. He went out of his way to protect people with a grin and a quip on his lips.

Sometimes, he sat on the Nasty Burger sign, eating fries and staring up at the stars. 

Sometimes, he looked almost human.

Sam's parents believed what many adults did– that Phantom was as much of a menace to the town as any other ghost. The thought infuriated Sam– so much so that it caused the fight at breakfast.

Phantom saved her class on more than one occasion. Sam didn't know what motivated the ghost, what kept him tethered to Amity Park and fighting for them, but… he did. No matter how the media twisted his actions, or focused on the structural damages caused by fights that Phantom never started but always finished, he still fought for them.

It had to be lonely.

Rain fell in sheets, lashing on the growing wind. Rivers of water streamed along the edges of the empty road. Sam was glad now that she brought her jacket. It didn’t do much to keep her dry, but it was better than nothing. 

A bolt of lightning tore through the clouds, the boom that followed shaking the shop windows near her. Just a couple more streets and she’d be home. Maybe if Sam was lucky, she’d be able to sneak in without another argument. Her parents were usually busy Saturday nights.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Sam’s attention. She stopped and turned her head, looking down a long alley that stretched between a restaurant and an apartment building. She noticed something white peeking out from behind the dumpster. 

Another flash of lightning and the white thing disappeared behind the dumpster. Sam heard a small, strangled sound before the echoing thunder drowned it out.

A stray cat? Sam wondered. 

She couldn’t leave a lost cat out in this weather. Not in a city, so close to uncaring cars and unkind people.

Sam approached cautiously, worried she might frighten the animal off. As she crept closer, Sam heard a faint whimper. The sound lanced her heart. She imagined broken legs, bloody wounds, or–

Phantom?

Phantom sat huddled under a large, broken crate beside the dumpster. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his head resting on his arms. As Sam stared at him in shock, she noticed that he was shivering. He was whimpering. He was hurt.

A large green stain pooled under Phantom, dripping from tears in the left leg and side of his suit. The green– ectoplasm, Sam realized– soaked into the bricks beneath him, mixing with the rain.

“Ph-Phantom?” Sam said quietly.

He jumped violently, flickering invisible with a shout. Sam stumbled backwards, falling flat on her ass in a cold puddle. She hardly noticed or cared; she stared at the spot where Phantom had been, her heart racing.

He flickered back into sight just as quickly. Sam was eye-level with Phantom now. He glowed a soft white in the dark, his hair windswept and bright. He stared at her with toxic green irises, his pupils the same snow-white as his hair. She’d never seen him so close. 

His eyes were blown wide, swimming with unshed tears. Phantom pressed himself against the back of the crate, his shaky arms bracing him on either side. He winced, gasping slightly, and one arm flew to clutch his side. Both of his white gloves were stained green.

“Y-you’re hurt,” was all Sam could say.

She didn’t know what to do. Some instinctive part of Sam’s mind told her to get up and run. Whatever good Phantom had done, she did not know him personally, or what he would do when cornered. 

Even the most timid animals could bite when cornered.

Lightning cracked in the distance. Another boom rattled the sky. Phantom whimpered again, curling up on himself. Sam froze.

Phantom was afraid.  

That realization drove away Sam’s own fear. He wasn’t just injured, he was terrified.

“D-do you need help?” She asked.

Could she even help? 

Phantom’s shivering stopped briefly. He stared at Sam with undisguised surprise, as if he’d never been asked that question before. He gave her a calculating look, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He leaned further into the crate and Sam had a feeling Phantom might phase and fly away if she got any closer.

She opened her mouth to reassure him when Phantom finally spoke.

“I’m fine,” was all he said. His voice shook and echoed.

Lightning, thunder— another whimper. As if the universe desperately wished to prove him wrong.

Sam huffed indignantly. 

“You’re hurt and hiding in a box during a storm,” she said pointedly. She stared up at the stormy sky, considering. “Are you afraid of the thunder?”

Phantom’s eyes stretched wide before his face settled into a scowl.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a crate, and… no,” he said petulantly.

He spoke with his usual sarcasm, but each word still trembled.

“Fine— you’re hiding in a crate and definitely not afraid of the thunder,” Sam replied with equal parts sarcasm. “You’re still hurt.”

Phantom looked down at his side and shrugged. 

“Nothing new,” he said.

It was new, at least to Sam. She’d seen Phantom thrown into buildings, hit with ectoblasts, struck by weapons of all kinds— but she’d never actually seen the fallout of his fights. He never stuck around for anyone to get close. Sam could remember seeing his suit torn and stained green before, but she never actually thought about the ramifications. Up close, the ectoplasm dripping from Phantom’s side bore a startling resemblance to blood.

Phantom doubled over again, groaning as he clenched his side. 

Sam dared to inch closer. Whatever Phantom said, he was clearly in pain. The Drs. Fenton often told the town that ghosts were incapable of feeling emotions, let alone pain, but Sam had proof to the contrary right in front of her. Only a fool wouldn’t see it. Only a monster would call this fake.

“Are you usually this hurt after fights?” Sam asked hesitantly. She wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer. 

Phantom’s brows drew together in thought. He repositioned himself in the crate, wincing as his leg bumped into the wooden side. 

“Usually not this bad. Lucky shot,” he said through gritted teeth and a sharp intake of breath.

Breath… Did ghosts breathe? 

“Who got you? Skulker?” Sam asked. 

She wanted to keep the ghost boy talking— to learn more about him. She didn’t care about the rain or how soaked her skirt was, sitting in the dirty alley. All of her attention was on Phantom now.

Phantom began to laugh— but stopped abruptly, wincing. He held his side tightly.

“Ectogun,” he said simply. Sadly. 

The Fentons went unsaid.

Sam clenched her fists, glaring at the ground. Whatever good the Fentons thought they were doing, they had never protected their town like Phantom. They caused just as much property damage as the ghosts– often more. The sound of their suped up RV tearing down the street inspired no confidence. They often didn’t arrive until the threat was gone.

Once Phantom had dealt with it.

“You deserve better than this,” Sam said quietly. Angrily. 

Phantom perked up some at that. He kept watching her, those strange, lamp-like eyes trained on her face. He looked so small. So young. For the first time Sam really thought about what Phantom was— a teenager, probably around her age. Just some kid, dead before his time.

The thought that someone could shoot at Phantom sickened her.

A steely sort of determination worked its way into Sam’s stomach. She pulled herself up onto her knees and held out her hand to Phantom, fighting down the nervous flutter of her heartbeat with steadying breaths.

“Let me help you,” she said. 

Phantom disappeared as she moved— but reappeared just as quickly as he’d gone. She wondered if it was a reflex.

He eyed her hand warily. Sam noticed dark, tired circles under his eyes for the first time.

Did ghosts need to sleep? 

“Why would you help me?” Phantom asked. 

It was a small question, laced with genuine surprise. It filled Sam with equal parts pity and anger.

Sam held her hand out farther. “You save people in this town every day— hell, you’ve saved me a few times, Phantom. Don’t you think you deserve some help too?” 

Sam needed him to understand. She didn’t want to walk away and go home, not knowing if he’d be okay. The guilt would tear at her conscience. 

Phantom looked at her hand, his face twisted in an unreadable expression. His hand fidgeted, grasping at the fabric of his suit.

“I’m just a ghost, though.”

Resignation hung in those words. A tired, worn sorrow that made Sam equal parts sad and angry. This town didn’t deserve Phantom.

“It doesn’t matter what the fuck you are. You’re a person and you’re injured — let me help you,” she said firmly.

Phantom winced at her tone. He took another strange, shuddering breath. The tears had dried from his eyes, but he still shivered— flinching whenever the storm reared above them. 

After a long pause, his eyes darting nervously, Phantom took her hand.

His hand was much colder than Sam expected, even through his glove. His fingers quivered against hers as she stood up and gently coaxed him out of the crate. It was slow going as he gasped and winced with the movement. Phantom kept clutching at his side with his right arm while he allowed his left to be slung over Sam’s shoulder. He hardly weighed a thing.

“Where… where are we going?” he hesitantly asked. The echo in Phantom’s voice sounded strange next to her ear. It sent a shiver down Sam's spine.

Sam suppressed her nerves as she took a few, awkward steps and adjusted her grip on his arm. She walked him out of the alley and across the sidewalk. It was late now, the stormy streets mercifully empty. Sam supposed Phantom could always turn invisible if they were spotted, but she had a sinking suspicion that he was running on fumes. Phantom wasn’t floating like he normally did, and instead walked sluggishly alongside Sam, dragging his feet. His steps hardly stirred the puddles.

“We’re not far from my house. There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom I can snag,” she explained.

Phantom nodded absently. It felt eerie to see him so subdued. Perhaps even his willingness to come with her was a bad sign. No one had been able to corner Phantom for a conversation, let alone to touch him. The most they knew about him was his name.

The rain fell in heavy sheets as they turned the corner. The puddles around them shone brightly as an arch of lightning shot across the sky. Phantom startled, his invisibility flickering. Sam gasped in surprise as he almost jerked out of her slackened grip.

“We’re almost there,” she soothed. 

Another shaky nod from Phantom. He stared at the ground, a soft green flush across his cheeks. Sam made no comment.

The Manson Residence loomed in front of them, dark against the stormy sky. The lights were off, except for the porch light. Sam's parents and grandmother were either out or sleeping; they must have taken her word about going to Tucker or Danny’s house. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to have an impromptu sleepover— at least between her and Tucker now.

Sam crossed the lawn and side yard to the back of the house. Her window was unlocked as usual, giving her easy access to her bedroom on the ground floor. She let go of Phantom tentatively so she could open the window. His legs trembled violently beneath him without her support. He stared at her, a worried expression on his face.

“I’m sorry…” he said quietly.

Sam gave him a quizzical look and Phantom pointed to her clothes. 

Her entire right side was covered in ectoplasm. It trailed across her skirt, her jacket, and covered her hands. It made Sam's skin crawl. Despite the color, she couldn't stop thinking of blood. 

“D-don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll just tell my parents it’s from a ghost attack at school or something.” A few ruined clothes were a small sacrifice for this endeavor.

Phantom frowned but said nothing. He stared at the wet grass.

Sam started pulling herself through the window with some difficulty. Her boots couldn’t find purchase on the wet brick, and the window ledge was just as slippery. She looked down at Phantom, feeling a bit embarrassed, and froze when he stumbled towards her.

“Let me help,” he said. 

Sam dropped back down to the grass, resisting the urge to step back. Phantom held out a shaky hand to her. She hesitated, wary, but decided to repay the trust he’d already offered her. Sam took his hand and felt a strange, cold sensation wash over her. Phantom took a step forward, pulling her with him. She hesitated again as he stepped right through her bedroom wall. He looked back at her expectantly—nervously— and she followed.

“Well, that’s certainly easier,” she said with a breath. Sam noticed that the brief stint of intangibility had even dropped most of the rain and ectoplasm from her clothes.

Phantom chuckled, coughing slightly. He quickly let go of her hand and turned away. He quietly took in her bedroom, as if studying it.

Sam shut the window and hurriedly moved to the door. “I’m going to grab the first aid kit— stay here,” she said.

She waited just long enough for Phantom to nod before hurrying out the door. Screaming internally, Sam considered how drastically the day had shifted from boring to extraordinary. Phantom was in her house . What a strange day.

Now wasn’t the time to process it. Sam rushed to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a few towels. She was about to head back to her room when she decided water would be a good idea as well. Creeping towards the kitchen— fearful that one of her parents or her grandmother could be hanging around— Sam snagged a few bottles of water. Remembering Phantom eating fries on top of the Nasty Burger sign, she also grabbed a couple of bags of chips.

With her hands full of supplies, Sam hurried back to her bedroom. She hoped that Phantom would still be there. It wouldn’t surprise her if he slipped away.

When she opened the door, Sam was surprised to find Phantom in the dark, staring at something on her dresser. He had a strange, sad look across his face, as if remembering something painful. Sam shut the door and flicked on the lightswitch. Phantom jumped, backing away from the dresser, mumbling something under his breath. She glanced over and noticed the picture of her, Tucker, and Danny at the park. A lingering memory from two years ago– another perfect summer. 

She couldn’t bring herself to replace it.

“Here, I’m going to set a couple of these down on the bed,” Sam said, gesturing to the towels. “Then I’m going to see what I can do for those wounds.”

Phantom didn't move right away. He glanced between the towels and her bed, his face twisted into a frown.

"Are you sure? I don't want to… get ectoplasm on your bed," he said.

He was hurt and bleeding and worried more about her comforter? Pity clenched her heart.

"I'm not worried about it," Sam said, shaking her head. "You're just stalling– sit down."

Reluctantly, Phantom followed her to the bed. He stared guiltily at a few drops of ectoplasm on the floor. He sat down carefully, adjusting his leg so the ectoplasm wouldn’t ooze onto her comforter. 

Now that she had Phantom sitting there, Sam hesitated, unsure where to start. He looked worse for wear, with fresh ectoplasm still oozing from his leg and side. The bags under Phantom's eyes looked much darker in the light of her bedroom. He looked almost more solid– more battered.

“Are you able to… can you take off the top part of your suit so I can see the wound better?” she asked. 

Sam wasn’t entirely sure if ghosts could take off their clothes, though judging by the way Phantom’s suit was cut up, it seemed possible. 

Phantom clutched his arms around his torso defensively. “I– no,” he said. The way he said it told Sam that he could, but simply didn’t want to.

“It would make it easier to look at the wound.”

A slight shake of his head– a jump as thunder split the sky. Phantom rocked slightly.

“No,” he said again more forcefully.

Sam sighed. She opened the first aid kit to take stock of what was inside. She’d only used the first aid kit once by herself, and just for a small cut on her finger. Nothing quite like this.

“Can I at least cut the suit around the wound?” she asked. Sam wasn’t sure she could do anything for Phantom if he said no.

Phantom stared at the rips in his suit and nodded. “That’s fine, it’ll… come back,” he said.

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “Does it just like… grow back?”

Phantom shrugged, grinning sheepishly. The green flush was back in his cheeks.

“Dude, I thought you were just like– really good at sewing or something.”

He snorted, choking out another laugh. After seeing Phantom curled up in that alley, she relished to hear that strangled laughter. 

The first aid kit had a small pair of scissors, but Sam hesitated to use them so close to Phantom’s wounds. She told him to lie back as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and investigated the damage. He kept shivering and flinching under her touch– gasping when she peeled part of the suit away from the wound in his side. The material clung to his body, coming away with a sticky sound.

The sight of it made her stomach turn.

The wound in Phantom’s side looked something like a gunshot and a burn mixed together– which she supposed made sense for an ectogun. The area smelled faintly of burnt lemon and ozone. A dark, sickly blue framed the edges of the wound, while the interior oozed a vibrant green. 

“I don’t know how you were walking with this,” she said quietly. Sam knew that Phantom was injured, but she hadn’t expected the severity of it.

Phantom hummed dismissively. He stared up at the ceiling with a grimace on his face. She noticed a fang worrying his lip.

Taking a steadying breath, Sam got to work. She didn’t know much about ghost biology, or if Phantom was in danger with how much ectoplasm he’d lost. He seemed coherent enough, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was doing well. 

Sam trimmed away the suit surrounding his wound, apologizing whenever Phantom flinched. She did the same around the wound over his knee. With the fabric pulled aside, Sam realized his leg had been slashed. The cut stretched just over his knee and was longer than her hand.

“Did the Fentons do this one too?” she asked bitterly, gesturing to his leg.

A sharp intake of breath from Phantom. A pause.

“No, uh… that one actually was Skulker,” he said awkwardly. 

“So I was right then.”

Sam pushed the cut pieces of his suit aside and watched as they began to evaporate. Huh. Shaking her head, she grabbed a towel and one of the water bottles. Just another thing to unpack later.

“I just assumed you meant the hole in my side, not the scratch,” Phantom said.

“You know damn well this isn’t just a scratch– now hold still. I need to wipe off this blood first,” Sam said.

Phantom snorted– the sound turning into a hiss of pain as Sam brought the wet towel to his side. As gently as she could, she patted and wiped away the dark green smears.

“Blood, huh?” he said through his teeth, raising his head to watch her ministrations.

Sam gave Phantom a curious look. “Is this not blood to you?” she asked.

Phantom let his head fall back against the bed, eyes trained back on the ceiling.
“I mean, yeah, but… ectoplasm.”

“Semantics.” 

Phantom didn’t reply. Every inch of him was tense. His breathing came in ragged gasps whenever Sam scrubbed the wound in his side. 

The breathing startled her more than anything. Sam tried to think of the other ghosts in Amity Park– if they ever breathed. None came to mind, though Sam hadn’t ever gotten close enough to tell. It wasn’t exactly the first thing on her mind during a ghost attack.

Once both wounds were washed, Sam pulled out some disinfectant from the first aid kit. 

“This is going to sting pretty badly,” she warned him.

Phantom clenched his ectoplasm-stained fists. He kept shivering, though now from pain more than anything. As the storm died down, his startled flinches ebbed with the distantly rolling thunder.

“The storm will be over soon,” she said conversationally. “At least the thunder.” The rain didn’t look like it would let up anytime soon.

“Not scared of th– thunder,” Phantom said, gasping loudly on the word as Sam applied the antiseptic. 

Sam apologized under her breath, moving as quickly as she could. Antiseptic hurt enough on a small cut, let alone on one of this size and severity.

“Sure you aren’t,” she said absently. If the conversation kept Phantom distracted from the pain, that was all the more reason to keep chatting.

Phantom lifted his head again, glowering at her. “Lightning, not thunder,” he said pointedly.

Sam didn’t really see the difference. “What, were you hit by lightning or something?” she said with a smirk.

Wide green eyes stared at her. The temperature of the room seemed to drop. The smirk slipped from Sam’s mouth.

“I– oh shit, sorry, I… I didn’t actually think that–”

“I-it’s okay,” Phantom said quickly. His throat sounded tight, as if he had to force the words out. 

The chill in the room lifted, though Phantom remained persistently cold.

A world of questions lingered on Sam’s tongue, but she swallowed them down, dragging her eyes back to Phantom’s injuries. She set the ectoplasm-stained towel aside. Now that his wounds were clean, Sam had her first good look at them. 

The cut on Phantom’s leg was deep, but would probably heal without much interference. The wound in his side was another story. Ectoplasm dripped from the center of a ragged hole along his side. It looked like the wound wasn’t deep or central enough to damage any organs– if Phantom even had any– but that it would still need stitches. 

She tentatively searched the first aid kit for sutures. Part of Sam hoped the kit wouldn’t have any, if only to give her an excuse not to practice her sewing on a ghost. Could you even give stitches to a ghost?

She found the sutures. Of course, the giant first aid kit her parents bought would have everything. 

Sam held the supplies nervously. “I’ve… never done stitches before. Just sewing,” she warned. 

A wry smile crossed Phantom’s face. 

“You’ve, uh… already got more experience than I had,” he said. 

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck nervously. The gesture seemed familiar.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve given yourself stitches before,” Sam said.

“I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”

Well, at least that answered her question of whether or not she could give him stitches.

It was hard for Sam to think as Phantom kept talking. She wanted to examine everything he told her tonight, but she couldn’t exactly pause what she was doing. She quickly read over the instructions on the suture kit– multiple times, as she absorbed none of the information given to her. She groaned in frustration. Messing this up could do much more harm than good.

“I can talk you through it,” the ghost mercifully offered. 

Phantom guided Sam through the stitches with surprising skill and calm. He had to pause multiple times to catch his breath and grit through the pain. Sam wished that she had some sort of pain relief to give him other than ibuprofen. As well as Phantom was handling this, he deserved better. He didn’t deserve this pain.

“Electrocuted,” Phantom said suddenly. He spat out the word as the needle slid through his skin, as though he needed something to say to take his mind off of the pain. 

“What?”

Phantom gritted his teeth. “I… was electrocuted– not by lightning, though,” he said in a whisper. 

An icy chill that had nothing to do with Phantom swept over Sam. 

“Is that what…”

“Yes.” 

Neither of them needed to clarify. People often spoke in whispers, wondering how the ghosts of Amity Park met their ends. It was hard not to be curious, but few people were brave or stupid enough to ask. The last person that asked one, well… at least his arm healed. Mostly. 

A small part of Sam was glad to have an answer. It felt like solving a mystery– putting together the pieces of an unfinished jigsaw puzzle, slowly unveiling a gruesome portrait.

A bigger part of Sam hated to know. Knowing about Phantom’s death made him more human. It painted a picture of a living person– and let the colors bleed until only the diluted impressions of pigment remained, stained into the canvas. 

“Did it hurt?” Sam couldn’t help but ask, despite anticipating the answer. She was almost done stitching Phantom’s side. Just two more sutures and she could move on to his leg.

Phantom shivered, as if the memory ran throughout his entire body. With the echo of electricity in his veins, perhaps it did.

“Yes.”

Sam finished off the sutures as best she could. It wasn’t pretty, but hopefully it would hold. It should at least staunch the bleeding and keep anything out.

“I’m… sorry,” she said. “I’d be afraid of lightning too after something like that.”

It was all she could think to say.

The ghost of a smile tugged at Phantom’s lips, before it fell into a frown. He hummed in thought, his eyes locked once more on the ceiling, as if they were naturally drawn to the sky.

Sam started suturing Phantom’s leg. After dealing with the ragged skin on his side, it felt like child’s play to pull the even edges of the slash wound together.

Quiet settled over them as Sam worked. The rain pattered along outside as Phantom hummed a quiet tune to himself. Sam thought she recognized it, but didn’t want to ask. Too many questions sat in her mind, begging to be answered. 

“Why tell me all of this?” 

The words were out of Sam’s mouth before she could stop herself. Of all the questions she had for Phantom after this strange encounter, it was the most pressing. Phantom was not a social ghost. He did not talk to people or divulge information about himself. To have him willingly offer up such a secret to Sam felt… strangely intimate. 

The humming stopped. Phantom sat up with some difficulty, wincing as the stitches in his side pulled. He wouldn’t look Sam in the eye.

“I… don’t know,” he said. “I don’t talk to people like this— people don’t… treat me like this. I guess it just felt nice to talk to someone too.”

He dug his hands into the towel on the bed, fidgeting with the cloth. He still wouldn’t look at Sam.

Sutures done, Sam set the supplies aside and pulled some gauze and bandages from the first aid kit. She thought over her words this time, picking them carefully.

“Well, I’m glad I could help— and talk,” Sam said. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you trusted me enough to help you.”

Phantom’s eyes flickered to hers before darting back to his hands. “It does beat stitching my own side,” he said with a forced chuckle. Sam winced.

Sam carefully applied the gauze to Phantom’s side and had him hold part of the bandage in place.

“Are you really going to have me bandage over your suit?” She asked.

Phantom rolled his eyes. “Yes— it’s fine, really.”

Sam frankly thought it was a stupid idea, but she didn’t want to argue the point. She realized that Phantom might have good reason to hide his body. She’d seen the hint of old scars through his torn suit and didn’t know just how many covered his torso and arms…

And now he had two more scars to hide with the rest.

Sam wound the bandages around Phantom’s body, overlapping his suit. It did look ridiculous, but if it made Phantom more comfortable, then it felt worth it. Phantom tensed whenever she leaned too close to him. He watched Sam like a hawk, leaning with her movements so much that she had to tell him multiple times to hold still.

Sam was tying off the bandages when her phone rang. Phantom jumped at the sound, leaping two feet into the air and hovering there. He swore under his breath, gently cradling his side as he drifted back onto the bed.

Panickedly shushing him, Sam pulled out her phone and checked the caller ID. She expected her mom– or maybe Tucker calling to complain about his cousins. She didn’t expect to see Jazz’s name.

Jazz only ever called Sam for one thing: to find Danny. When they were still friends with Danny, Jazz would often call them if he was out too late or forgot to tell her where he was going. She always called for Danny. With how distant their parents were, always absorbed in their work, it was never much of a surprise how much Jazz mothered Danny.

For her to call Sam this late, when she hadn’t spoken to Danny for months…

“Hello?” Sam answered nervously.

“Sam, is Danny with you?” Jazz asked quickly, worry flooding her tone.

The temperature of the room plummeted. Jazz kept talking when Sam didn’t answer right away, but she hardly took in what she said. Sam watched as Phantom stared at the phone, his eyes blown wide. He started shaking again.

Did he know that she was on the phone with one of the Fentons?

“… worried, and— Sam?” 

Sam shook her head.

“Sorry, Jazz, I—“ another drop in temperature, “I got distracted. What did you say?”

“I said: have you seen Danny? He’s not home and I haven’t seen him since this morning. M-Mom and Dad have been on edge all night since they saw Phantom near FentonWorks, and— and now they’re convinced something happened to him.” She spoke very quickly, stumbling over her words. “He— he won’t answer his phone. I don’t know if he broke it again. Have you seen him? Is he with you?”

It was a lot to process. Sam didn’t know how to reply. Her eyes trailed to Phantom. He sat rooted to the spot, every muscle in his ghostly body tensed and quaking. He gripped the towel beneath him like a lifeline.

Phantom was a strange ghost, but if he expected Sam to out his location to the Fenton’s, then he was mistaken.

“Jazz, I… I haven’t really talked to Danny in a while. He won’t talk to me or Tucker. I don’t know where he is,” Sam said.

The line on Jazz’s end went quiet. There was a long pause before Jazz spoke, her words tearful.

“You too, huh?” 

Sam couldn’t tell if the temperature hit new lows, or if it was simply worry sinking cold into her stomach. Danny always talked to Jazz. He was always close to her, trusting Jazz with his deepest secrets. If he wasn’t even speaking with her… 

“Jazz, I hope you find him, I’m sorry,” she said. 

And Sam was sorry. Maybe she should have pushed Danny to talk to them— or done more to dig for answers— or still tried to be his friend, even when he shut them out. His absence left a hollow spot in Sam’s heart, but she still cared about Danny. If something happened to him, she— she didn’t want to think about it. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.

“Me too,” Jazz said. Sam heard a quiet sniffle. “I’ll text you when we find him.”

“Okay,” Sam said hollowly.

The call ended and she held the phone loosely in her hands, staring at Jazz’s name. Breath fogged on her phone screen and Sam shivered in the chill. She snapped her attention back to Phantom.

He looked positively unhinged.

Phantom hugged himself tightly, rocking slightly. He stared blankly at something only he could see. Fractals of ice spun around where he sat, coating the towel in a layer of frost. Sam had never seen Phantom create ice before.

“Ph-Phantom? Is everything okay? I’m not— I wouldn’t sell you out to the Fentons,” she said. Her teeth chattered in the cold.

Phantom’s eyes flitted to hers, his pupils so small that the green of his irises looked absolute. For a brief moment, Sam wondered if the Fentons had reason to fear him…

And then she saw the tears.

Bandaged, shivering, crying— Phantom looked utterly helpless. A soft sob escaped his throat and he doubled over, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t accuse you of hurting Danny,” Sam said. “I know you wouldn’t do that. Danny has been distant lately— he might’ve run away.”

Phantom stood up suddenly and Sam backed away on the floor. He paced on the spot, running his hands through his hair, staining the strands green.

“Right… Phantom?” Sam said quietly. 

“I…” Phantom stared at his shaking hands. 

“You wouldn’t hurt Danny,” she said it more like a statement this time, as if speaking it would make it fact. She held onto it tightly.

Phantom kept looking at his hands. He didn’t answer. He slowly shook his head, a strange keening sound coming from his chest.

Sam stood up, rounding on the ghost she’d just spent her night helping. A hollow, icy awareness spread over her. She tried to ignore his fear– his tears. She thought of how much the Fentons had hurt him, and the terror in his eyes when Jazz Fenton was on the phone. 

She thought of Danny, afraid of ghosts— the smallest of the Fenton’s. Perhaps the best target.

“Wh—where’s Danny?” Sam asked, her voice shaking nearly as much as Phantom’s stained hands.

Phantom turned to look at her, tear tracks rolling down his cheeks.

“If you— if you hurt him, I—“

“Danny h-hurt himself,” Phantom said, his echoing voice wavering. His legs shook violently. The wound on his leg oozed a thin trail of ectoplasm, dripping onto the frosty floor.

His words were cryptic enough for Sam to pause, sucking in a sharp breath of air as she considered them. She felt sick. All this time she’d spent reassuring herself that Phantom was good and that she was doing a good thing helping him— and for what?

She needed to know.

“ Where is Dan—“

“ I’m Danny!” Phantom cried.

The wobble in Phantom’s legs grew to be too much and he sank to the floor. Tears streamed down his face. He alternated between squeezing his arms and rubbing them. He stared up at Sam as if expecting the judgement of a vengeful god.

Sam’s first reaction was to laugh. A quiet, disbelieving chuckle. It had to be a joke. It had to be. A cruel, sick joke from a desperate ghost.

But Phantom wasn’t laughing. 

“You– you’re a ghost. You told me yourself that you were electrocuted, that you died – Danny isn’t–”

“The ghost portal in my parents’ basement,” Phantom rasped. 

He clumsily removed his left glove and pulled down his sleeve, turning his palm towards Sam. An angry green starburst of a scar covered the middle of his hand. It arched into lichtenberg figures that swirled around his left arm.

Sam stared at the scars, her mind scrambling to make connections. The Fentons. Their ghost portal. Phantom. 

“That fucking portal ,” Phantom choked out the words, his face contorted in pain. “The power button was inside it— I-I tripped.”

Before Sam could process it, a bright flash of light erupted from Phantom’s naval. Sam shut her eyes, cracking them open in time to see the light bend into two blue-white rings. One ring traveled up towards Phantom’s head, while the other swept towards the ground. Everywhere the rings passed, Phantom’s appearance changed.

Acid green ectoplasm became scarlet blood. Green scars shifted to pink. Snow-white hair turned raven black. Glowing green eyes faded to a soft, icy blue. 

Danny sat in Phantom’s place. He wore the same terrified expression. Tears still streamed down his face. He gasped as the transformation finished, clutching at his side as if the pain there had doubled.

“Danny…” 

Sam rushed to him in an instant, dropping her phone to the ground. She knelt in front of Danny, hands shaking as she reached out to touch him, if only to see that he was solid. Danny tentatively held out his own hands, lacing his fingers into hers. A chill lingered on his skin, though he wasn’t nearly as cold now.

He stared at their linked hands, not meeting her eyes.

Danny and Phantom. One in the same. The thought rolled over her like a tidal wave, with the leftover channels connecting pools of her scattered thoughts. 

Danny died. That realization lanced Sam’s heart as she tamped down her anger, her frustration– her own hurt feelings. He had been electrocuted by his parents’ invention. It left enough scars, physical and mental, that he now jumped like a small child during storms. He was a ghost.

Yet he’d hidden it from everyone– even Jazz. He’d swallowed that pain and become a hero, bearing the brunt of their town’s problems on his small, shaking shoulders. 

Alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam said, unable to disguise the hurt in her voice as tears filled her eyes. " Why did you push us away?"

Danny shut his eyes, his lip trembling. He gripped Sam’s hands tighter.

“I was scared ,” he sobbed. “I… I thought it would be easier to push people away then– then… I know it’s stupid, but fuck , Sam. I didn’t–” 

“You really thought we’d hate you for this?”
Danny flinched at the bite in her tone.

“Hate me– be a-afraid of me– think I was possessing myself– I’m a freak , Sam, I–”

Sam slapped him. 

Danny put his hand to his cheek, staring at her in shock. Sam immediately regretted it.

“Fuck, Danny– I’m sorry. You’re just– you’re not a freak.” She clutched his face with both hands, resting her palm over his scarred left hand. “You’re an idiot, Danny, but not a freak.”

“I feel like both,” he warbled. “I should have told you and Tucker— I should’ve trusted you. I-I’m sorry, Sam… I’m sorry.”

“You should have!” she snarled, though it came with a wet sob.

Sam let go of Danny’s face and yanked him into a tight hug– loosening it with an apology when he hissed in pain. Danny tentatively wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He sobbed quietly, clutching at her as if she might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice cracking on the words.

Sam wanted to scream at Danny just as much as she wanted to hold him close and never let go. To make him understand how much he still meant to her. 

Danny’s hands bunched in her shirt. “I missed you too,” he whispered. 

They sat there quietly, bundled tight in eachothers arms. Sam felt Danny’s heartbeat alongside hers, slow but steady… his heartbeat. Despite the cold of Danny’s skin, and Phantom hiding just beneath the surface— she still felt a heart beating in his chest.

“You— you have a heartbeat?” she said, pulling away to look at him. 

Phantom hadn’t had a heartbeat. He had breathed, but he definitely had no pulse. She noticed as much while stitching his side.

Danny looked down at himself, then laughed— opening his mouth wide enough to show one of Phantom’s fangs.

“The other ghosts call me a ‘halfa’. Half-ghost,” he said in a whisper. “Half-human.”

The word sounded familiar. Sam realized that she’d heard Skulker shout it a hundred times at Phantom.

She also realized that it meant her friend was still alive– at least in some way.

She pulled Danny into another hug, searching for that languid heartbeat. It came slowly– long pauses stretching between each beat– but it was there.

“I don’t understand what that means for you, but I’m happy that you’re not… well, you know.”

A quiet laugh, a sniffle. “I did die, but the ectoplasm in that portal brought me back. I felt… it felt… it jumpstarted me.”

A cold shiver ran down Sam’s spine. The unspoken words there— the unsaid sensations of pain, of feeling his heart stop and then restart under the strain of electricity and ectoplasm. 

Sam couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t want to.

“Oh, fuck that’s still bleeding,” Danny said, dragging Sam from her thoughts.

Looking down, Sam realized that she hadn't bandaged his leg. A dark red stain blossomed across the leg of his jeans.

“Shit, sorry.”

She pulled Danny to his feet and sat him back down on her bed. He hesitantly pulled his jeans down just far enough for Sam to see the wound.

A large ectoburn on his left hip— deep claw marks on his right— smaller pockmarks and cuts criss-crossing the skin in between. Sam tried not to stare as she grabbed the bandages and unraveled them. She pretended not to see them.

“I can’t believe I gave you stitches tonight,” she said incredulously. “Who the fuck gave me a medical license.”

Danny laughed. 

“The same person that gave me one, I guess,” he said.

Right. Phantom gave himself stitches, which meant Danny had given himself stitches. The thought of trying to give herself stitches made Sam feel queasy.

As she wrapped the bandage around his leg, her eyes kept drifting to his other injuries.

Sam glanced at Danny’s stomach. In human form, the bandages had layered under his shirt and sweatshirt. She could see the hem of the bandages whenever he lifted his arms. The gauze stopped the bleeding from seeping through his shirt, but it did not remove the image of the raw ectogun wound imprinted in her memory.

An ectogun. The Fentons.

Realization struck. She gasped.

“Sam?” Danny said.

“Your parents shot you.”

Danny froze. Even while in human form, his nerves put a chill in the air. Sam wondered if she’d ever felt it in class and blamed it on the AC or an open window. Every time Danny jumped from his desk and darted off for the bathroom—

To transform. To fight. To get hurt.

“They hunt you,” she said with a snarl.

If Sam hated the Fentons for hunting their local town hero, it was nothing compared to the vitriol she now felt. Their work had killed their only son– and even still he paid the price for their incompetence.

“They don’t know it’s me,” he said quickly, defensively.

Sam met Danny’s eyes with a hard stare. 

“Even if they don’t, you still protect the town and do good— hell, when you’re not fighting, you act like any normal teenager as Phantom. Anyone with common sense could see that!”

Danny shuffled uncomfortably. “They hate ghosts, they don’t care who the ghost is or what they act like. They’re convinced any good a ghost does is… manipulative.” 

Sam thought of what Danny said after transforming– that he worried Sam and Tucker might accuse Phantom of possessing him. It seemed like exactly the sort of thing the Drs. Fenton would assume. Perhaps Sam might have assumed it as well, had she not known Danny as well as she did.

“It doesn’t make it right, just because they’re too dense to see sense,” Sam said mutinously.

“… I know.”

The hollow tone in Danny’s voice dampened some of her anger. She wanted to beat Maddie and Jack Fenton until they saw sense, but if they were so steeped in their hatred of ghosts to shoot at Phantom, then maybe they would never see reason. For all Sam knew, Danny’s parents could become ghosts themselves and still reject their reality.

“You don’t plan to tell them, do you,” Sam asked, though it came out as a statement.

Danny quickly shook his head. “No. Maybe someday, but… no.”

His eyes clouded with sorrow. He couldn’t trust them. He couldn’t trust his own parents with who he was. Sam wasn't the friendliest with her own parents, but she couldn't imagine being afraid to tell them about herself– afraid that they would hurt her if she did.

“Who would’ve thought coming out as trans would be the easy part,” Sam said with a low whistle.

It had the desired effect. Danny laughed so hard that he clutched his side, letting out a steady stream of ‘ows’.

“Oh god, that’s why you wouldn’t take off your shirt as Phantom,” she said, struck by realization.

Danny wiped at his eyes, sighing. “That and the scars, but… yeah. Binder."

Judging by the lichtenberg figure that forked up the side of Danny’s throat, that scar alone had to span his entire arm and most of his torso. Another thing for Sam to ignore, at least for now.

“Phantom’s trans— what an icon,” she said instead.

Another round of laughter. Another round of ‘ows’. Danny playfully punched Sam’s shoulder before falling onto the bed with a huff. He must be exhausted. Months of seeing Danny asleep in class, heavy bags under his eyes suddenly made perfect sense.

Sam fell onto the bed next to him. The moment her head hit the mattress, she felt weariness tug at her own limbs.

“I should call Jazz,” Danny mumbled.

“Yeah, you should. She sounded really worried about you.”

“I know, I heard… I have pretty good hearing now.”

Sam snorted. “Then I expect you to listen to me and call your big sister. And… maybe not tonight, but… tell her,” she said.

Danny tensed up. Sam glanced over and saw him rub his neck nervously. 

Ah. That’s why that felt familiar.

“I’m… afraid she’ll tell my parents,” he admitted.

Sam turned over, propping herself up on her elbow. “Did she tell them when you first came out to her?”

“Well no, but—“

“Danny.” Sam said his name so sternly that he turned his head. It felt good to see those icy blue eyes meet hers again. 

“Jazz loves you more than anything. She’s more of a mom to you than Maddie has ever been, and she wouldn’t do anything that might put you in danger,” she said.

Danny let out a shaky sigh.

"I know you're probably right, but I also… I'm a little worried she'll blame herself too." He trailed off as he spoke, the last few words barely more than a whisper.

"For the accident?" Sam asked.

Danny nodded. "She shouldn't blame herself– I'm the idiot that walked into the portal, no one made me…" 

Danny clenched his fists, taking in a deep breath. 

"But Jazz worries about me. And she wasn't home when it happened... She was over at a friend's house that day."

"If anyone's to blame, it's your parents," Sam pointed out.

Danny shuffled uncomfortably. "I think she might think that too."

"Good, because it's true."

Danny sat up, staring at the scar on his left hand, brows furrowed together.

"No one made me–"

"Your parents left their kid home alone with unsecured, dangerous lab equipment. People don't blame little kids when they get ahold of matches."

"That still makes me the stupid little kid with the match– setting myself on fire," Danny said.

Sam winced. On fire . She wondered if that's what it felt like to have electricity course through your body– enough to leave lasting scars and stop your heart.

She would never ask.

"Are you hungry?" Sam asked, trying to change the subject.

Danny tipped his head to the side thoughtfully, as if he honestly wasn't sure.

"I, uh… I haven't had much of an appetite since the Accident," he admitted.

Sam sat up and looked him over. Danny's sweatshirt hid a lot, but she could tell he was much thinner now than during summer. Danny had always been short and scrawny; there wasn't much weight for him to lose healthily.

"All the more reason to make you eat," Sam said. "I'm surprised Jazz hasn't gotten on your case about it yet."

She leaned across the bed and grabbed the two bags of potato chips, handing him one.

"Jazz has," he said. "She's been making me lunch pretty much every day."

"Do you eat them every day?"

"... Sometimes," he said guiltily.

Sam groaned. "I don't care if you're not hungry– you need to eat, Danny. We'll get Tucker to whip you into… snacking shape."

Every conversation from tonight buzzed around her head.

"Fuck, we have to tell Tucker," she said. "He’ll be home tomorrow. We can tell him… right?"

Sam knew Danny would say yes, but felt that asking would make him more comfortable. Danny and Tucker were always just as close, but Sam worried Danny might shy away from sharing his secret again— twice, if he took her advice and spoke with Jazz. It was nothing short of a fluke that he’d admitted it tonight.

To Sam's relief, he nodded. A small, hardly perceptible nod, but it was there all the same.

"Yeah, of course… Hopefully I won't cry as much the second time," he said.

"Tucker won't judge you if you do. You know he cries more than you."

"I'm pretty sure I've cried more tonight than Tuck ever has."

Sam pressed against Danny's shoulder, heaving a sigh.

"Cut yourself a break for once. I think you needed it," she said. “Even heroes need a good cry sometimes– especially when they’re being dumb and trying to do everything alone.”

Danny leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder. He mumbled something about not being much of a hero, but Sam chose to ignore it. For now.

She yanked the unopened bag of chips from his hands and opened it, passing the bag back to him.

"Eat. I know sour cream and onion is your favorite," she said.

Danny rolled his eyes but complied. He ate like his jaw was made of stone. It contrasted with Sam’s memories of their sleepovers in early summer, when they'd each torn through enough snacks to feed a small army. 

She passed him a water bottle and more ibuprofen while he ate. 

The moment Danny finished eating, he started to nod off, leaning all of his weight into Sam. Danny was heavier in this form, though still unnaturally light for his size. Sam could hardly believe the power he had at his fingertips. Phantom, for all his powers and strength, was just a scrawny scrap of a person, almost sickly so.

Ignoring his protesting whine, Sam pushed Danny upright and stood up. She collected the ectoplasm-stained towels, throwing them in the trash. Those stains would never come out. She grabbed an extra blanket from her desk chair and threw it on the bed.

"I want you to call Jazz before you fall asleep, but you're staying here tonight," Sam said. 

She would sooner shoot Danny herself than send him home to face his parents tonight. Any trust Sam felt for the Drs. Fenton had evaporated like the bloody pieces of Phantom’s suit.

Danny's drooping eyelids snapped open. He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it and heaved a sigh. Sam secretly felt relieved. If he truly wanted to get away, there wasn’t much she could do to stop him.

"I'll have to use your phone," he muttered. "Mine's somewhere near the movie theater, in about a thousand pieces."

Sam had to stifle a laugh. "Ghost fight?"

"Always," he groaned.

It would take some getting used to, combining her mental image of Danny with Phantom. Sam could see all of the glaring similarities now, but Danny wore a confidence and strength as Phantom that he didn’t readily show when human.

Sam passed Danny her phone and started changing into clean clothes. She grabbed a loose graphic t-shirt and some shorts for Danny, seeing as his clothes had a mixture of blood, ectoplasm, disinfectant, and sweat soaked into them.

He was still staring at the phone when she sat back down, Jazz's name at the top of the screen. His finger hovered over the call button.

A shaky breath. Danny hit call and held the phone up to his ear. Sam pressed against his shoulder comfortingly. The line hardly rang twice before Jazz answered.

"Sam? Have you heard anything from Danny?" Sam sat close enough that she could hear Jazz's frantic voice.

Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. Fresh tears welled in his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Sam grasped his hand and squeezed it gently.

"Jazz, I'm sorry– I'm okay," Danny quavered.

"Danny? Danny– you had everyone so worried! What happened? Where are you?" 

"I'm sorry, I– I just needed to clear my head. My phone's broken and I… lost track of time."

"You can't just disappear like that, Danny! Mom and Dad were out looking for you for hours– they thought Phantom hurt you."

Danny shut his eyes tight. His hand gripped Sam's so tightly that her fingers ached.

"Where are you? I can come get you," Jazz continued.

"I'm with Sam at her house– don't– don't come, please. I'm sorry I made you worry, but I'm okay. I d-didnt run into Phantom. I just wanted out of the house for a bit," he said.

Jazz sighed. Sam heard her shout something unintelligible away from the receiver– probably to their parents.

"Danny… I'm really worried about you. Sam told me she hasn't seen you for a long time, and suddenly you disappear and show up at her house."

Danny gripped the phone tighter, repositioning it against his ear as he hung his head.

"What's going on, Danny? I won't tell Mom and Dad, just… Can you talk to me? Please?" She spoke so quietly that Sam could barely hear her.

Sam didn't mean to invade Danny's privacy. She thought of pulling away, but Danny's fingers wove so tightly with hers that Sam wasn't even sure if she could. 

"I'm going to stay at Sam's for a couple of nights.” Danny glanced at Sam, silently asking permission, and continued when she nodded. “I've only talked to Sam… Tucker gets home tomorrow. C-can we talk later?"

Another pause on Jazz's end. Worry practically dripped through the phone speaker.

"Are you in trouble?" she asked.

Danny shook his head, though Jazz couldn't see it. "Jazz, I… something happened when the ghost portal turned on. It freaked me out, I– I want to tell you in person. Later."

Dead silence. 

"School's out on Monday. Do you want to go for a drive with me then?" Jazz's voice sounded unnaturally slow and level– as if desperately trying to hide how much Danny's words shook her.

"That sounds like fun," Danny said with a broken, wavering smile.

Sam could tell it took every ounce of Jazz's self restraint to give her baby brother space right now. Jazz could be just as pushy as Sam— sometimes even more pushy— though her heart was always in the right place.

"Danny, I love you. Please stay with Sam and call me if you need anything," she said. "I'll handle things with Mom and Dad."

"I love you too, Jazz. And… thanks," he said.

Neither of them hung up right away. The call stretched on for a few, silent moments before Danny fumbled with the end call button. He passed the phone back to Sam, muttering a tearful thanks.

Sam set the phone down on her nightstand. She considered texting Tucker, but she felt too exhausted to type out anything coherent right now and didn’t want to freak him out. It could wait until morning.

Sam shut her eyes while Danny changed. Even before Danny came out, he’d never been comfortable changing in front of Sam. Clearly, he felt even more self conscious now.

Sam realized a bit too late that Danny might have preferred a long-sleeved shirt.

“I can grab you a different shirt if you don’t like that one,” she said.

“This one’s fine… Can you turn off the lights, though?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sam resolutely faced the wall as she got up and flipped the lightswitch. “You good?” she asked before turning back around.

“Yeah. Thank you,” Danny said.

The blankets rustled as Danny scooted up towards the head of the bed. The rain clouds outside scattered enough light for Sam to see the scars marring his arms. The lichtenberg figures, burns, cuts— Sam walked over to the window and drew the curtains closed. 

She climbed into bed on the opposite side, sighing deeply as her head hit the pillow.  Sam felt like she could sleep for a week and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“How’s your side feel?” she asked Danny. 

He shuffled next to her, hoisting one of the blankets up to his neck. 

“Feels okay. I heal pretty quickly now— especially as Phantom,” He paused. “Thanks again, for that. For… everything tonight.”

Sam rolled over to look at him. Even in human form, his pale blue eyes seemed to cast a very faint glow.

“I’m still a bit mad at you,” she admitted. The blankets rustled again; she could imagine Danny fidgeting with his shirt or hands. “But I’m here for you.”

A deep sigh. Danny turned on his side to properly face her. 

“I… want to be there for you and Tucker too,” Danny whispered.

“Good. You’re stuck with us again."

Danny hummed.  "How do you think Tucker will take all of this, anyway?" he asked. 

"He's… just gonna be happy to see you again."

Tucker's feelings were just as hurt as Sam's– maybe even more, in some ways– but she knew him well enough. His PDA background hadn't changed in a long time. It was the same one on her dresser.

Danny scooted closer to Sam. They used to share her bed all the time– all three of them, piled up on the large mattress. They'd never been shy about sharing beds or cuddling. Danny had always been the most touch-starved of the trio. He always leaned against one of them, resting his head on their shoulders or lap. Just like Phantom in the alley, he sometimes reminded her of a cat. 

Sam closed the gap between them, nestling shoulder to shoulder with Danny. He'd warmed up some under the blankets, but not by much.

With how cold Danny's skin felt, Sam wondered when was the last time he accepted a hug from his parents or Jazz. 

"You're not sleeping in the binder, right?" Sam couldn't help but ask.

"No– I've been better about that."

"Good. How have… how have things been with that— since everything happened?" she said.

Predictably, Danny rested his head on her shoulder. 

"Better, funnily enough," he said.

"Yeah?"

She felt him tense up. He made a low, uncomfortable sound before explaining.

"Period's gone– portal fucked up my hormones or something." He said it very quickly, throwing the words out like old garbage.

"Oh shit. That's– good."

It was a little concerning, to be perfectly honest. Just another thing to add to the list. 

"It honestly simplifies things…Since I can't exactly go to the doctor anymore," he said. 

"You really think they'll find out if you got tests done? Even in human form?"

Danny clutched her arm, burying his face into her shoulder. The room grew deathly quiet.

"My blood's full of ectoplasm now, Sam. I checked."

Sam had no answer for that. His blood looked normal enough to her in human form, but she knew Danny had access to his parents' lab equipment, and enough good sense to figure out how to use it. She wrapped an arm around Danny and pulled him close.

Even if some changes to his body made Danny temporarily comfortable, she knew that this meant he'd never be able to fully transition. Not without people knowing. 

The rain slowed to a light drizzle, the sounds fading away into the night. Shadows stretched across Sam’s room from the gap in the curtains. Danny’s breath came just as slow as his heartbeat as he relaxed into her arms.

“I missed you,” Danny mumbled sleepily. “I really did.”

Sam rested her chin on top of Danny’s soft black hair. It smelled like the rain. She could almost pretend that their months apart never happened. That this was just another sleepover with one of her best friends.

“I missed you too.”

~*~

A repeated buzzing sound woke Sam. It grated against her ears and the fresh headache brewing between them. Whenever she thought it would let up, the sound would start again. She groaned, nestling further under the covers. Danny shifted under her arm, reminding Sam he was there.

Sam’s eyes snapped open as memories of the previous night flooded her. She stared at Danny’s scruffy black hair, remembering how it changed from Phantom’s snow-white. 

The alley. The storm. A wound dripping green. A call from Jazz.  A twisted revelation steeped in death.

Sam might not have believed a word of it, had she not seen Danny transform right before her eyes.

The buzzing sound returned. This time she recognized that it was her phone.

As carefully as she could, trying her best not to wake Danny, Sam reached back over her head for her phone. She winced at the brightness and quickly lowered it so she could check her messages.

All of them were from Tucker.

TF: sam did jazz call u last night??? 

TF: my parents banned me from technology while I was at my cousins and I didnt see it til just now

TF: she called me like three times and left a message saying danny is missing and something about ghosts

TF: Sam what if something happened 

TF: i know your probbly sleeping but text me when u get this 

TF: i know dannys been weird but what if something happened what if a ghost got him

TF: jazz didnt say if they found him and she called at like midnight 

TF: sam????

TF: I dont want to call jazz what if she says he isnt back yet

TF: SAM

Sam groaned. Maybe she really should have texted Tucker last night. She hadn't thought about Jazz calling him. His messages stretched out over the course of a few hours and Sam felt guilty for leaving him in the dark, panicking.

Sam started typing out a sufficient reply… but deleted it when a better idea came to mind.

Arm outstretched, Sam managed to get a picture that showed Danny's head tucked under her chin. He would've looked peaceful, were it not for the dark circles under his eyes.

Sam sent the picture to Tucker, nervous to see his response.

She didn't have to wait long.

TF: what

TF: wHAT

TF: sam wtf 

TF: did he talk to you

TF: he ghosted us for months what happened last night

TF: you cant do this to me sam give me CONTEXTT

TF: sam ill call if u dont explain idc if it wakes him up

SAM: Go ahead. the ringer is off

TF: please seriosly tho

Sam: I don't even know where to start tbh

TF: TRY

SAM: Tucker you have no idea I wish you coulda been here. 

SAM: Im sorry I didn't text you

SAM: Can we come over to your place in a bit? You need to hear most of it from Danny

TF: yeah ofc come over asap 

TF: can you give me like any hint tho like come on

SAM: I found him in a fucking alley last night and had to give him stitches

TF: …………….

SAM: Yeah.

TF: why didnt you take him to the hospital WTF SAM

TF: wat happened why did he need stitches anyway? is he ok??

SAM: I swear I'll explain when we come over. He's fine– kind of. 

SAM: He kind of broke down last night

SAM: at least he doesn't hate us.

TF: you found out whats goin on with him I take it

SAM: Yes. He's an idiot but fuck Tucker there was a reason for all this bullshit

TF: if youre not gonna tell me right now just shut up and get over here 

SAM: I'll try to be there in like an hour. Depends on how quickly he gets up 

TF: drag him if you have to 

SAM: I know you want answers but I gotta warn you he's nervous to talk to you

TF: he talked to you tho

SAM: He only talked to me last night cause of an actual nervous breakdown 

SAM: it was bad

SAM: Danny hasnt told anything to Jazz even.

SAM: I had to make him call her last night 

TF: shit thats weird

SAM: Yeah! Like fuck dude 

TF: you make it sound like dannys in a gang or smth

SAM: Its crazier than that honestly

TF: pls just stop texting me and wake him up. Please.

Sam couldn’t exactly blame Tucker for being impatient. It felt good to finally have answers— to finally have her friend back, ghostly attributes and all.