#just help

He paused. “Wow Sam. I don't know if I should feel insulted or not? And I don't know. I guess… I haven't really thought about it.”

“Hmm. She's got a point Danny” Tucker piped up from his position sat sideways on the couch, legs draped over Danny's chest. “While you scar phantom doesn't. He looks the same. Well. Not age wise, he looks to be aging, but not scaring?”

Danny paused. Seemingly thinking about it? “What if, like…” he paused again pulling himself up to be leaning on his elbows which were sat at the edge of the couch cushions. “you know how ghosts don't technically have a physical form? What if that's the same for phantom?”

“Maybe. But then what about the fact that phantom looks like he is aging? That don't make sense?” Sam responded with a pointed finger noe finally looking at Danny. 

Danny was about to respond but Tucker interrupted him looking like he had an idea. “What if it's like a mental thing? Frostbite said how ghosts are able to change their appearance with practice, what if Danny is doing it unconsciously. You know? Like, imagine if you were 16 like Danny but your appearance still looked 14? You'd probably be depressed or mentally praying or something?”

“no, yeah that makes sense.” Sam replied pulling a face at Danny as if saying ‘I'm not surprised’

Danny didn't know if that was meant to offend him or not so he just rolls his eyes before continuing. “So what? I've indirectly learnt how to change my appearance so I look like I'm growing older? I mean. I guess that's cool. Heh. No yeah. I'm not surprised.”

“Me neither.” Tucker replied, almost offended by what they just deduced. 

Danny shrugged like it was nothing. Like he hadn't spent years trying to look less like the kid that died in the basement. Less like the monster the scars made him look like. 

“Danny. If you keep going like this your going to end up too powerful. Maybe even a king. Doubt that would end well.” Sam responded with a quiet scoff at the end smiling at the idea. 

But Danny silently disagreed. Power never felt like power. It felt like survival with extra steps that attempted to kill you along the way. 

“Yeah, that would be funny to watch” Tucker responded before all three of them burst into laughter. 

Danny laughed with them, because that's what you do when the truth would kill the mood. 

The afternoon continued like that. Idle games and chatter.

He focused on the screen. Pixels were easier to fix than bodies. 

Random bursts of laughter Spread throughout the night. Banter, fun, peer pressure, blackmail photos they'll never share other than between each other. 

And so on and so forth. 

By the time it was late into the night, they saw the time. 

“Well damn. I hate how time goes so fast during the summer holidays.” 

“You can say that again, Tuck. Time is a bitch…  no Clockwork I don't mean you. I meant your domain.”

A small green sticky note appeared in front of her, she plucked it out of the air and read it. “Yes, clockwork. It's because we as humans don't understand. I like you clockwork, but I don't like your domain. It's always when we want more time that we don't have it, and when we want it gone there is too much of it. Hence me saying time is a bitch.”

Danny and Tucker were now snickering, trying but failing to hide their amusement. Then another note appeared and Sam again took it and read it. 

“If that's how you feel then I'm sorry. But understand that I don't hate you or think your a bitch. Besides you've helped us on so many accounts that it'd have to take a lot to make me hate you.”

After that both Danny and tuck burst into laughs while Sam sat there with a sigh, a roll of her eyes but a fond smile. 

She then turned to the two other in the room slowly calming from their hysteria. 

“Hey, Danny. You wanna stay the night? I know your parents have been odd lately when you came out to them.”

“No. It's fine Sam. Thank you though. I think they're managing. I mean, it's quite clear they don't like it but they're trying to deal with it I guess. Besides I have jazz. Promised her I'd come home and take her to the zone to help her manage her liminality.”

Tucker let out a short hummus at that. “Honestly man, your life's crazy. I hope jazz is dealing well with the fire. I thought I was dunzo when I called her hot headed. It was meant to be a joke honestly. Didn't think she'd take it so bad.”

“ ‘least you know not to do that again” Sam replied with a smirk. 

“Uh-hu. But damn, it felt like I was being baked alive. Honestly. Cool. Very cool. But scary.”

Danny chuckled at that. “Yeah, having an older sister who has flaming hair is a neat surprise. But it's been stressful trying to figure out how to help her manage her emotions do m-mom and dad don't figure it out.”

“Personally I think it's amazing. Just accentuates her toughness.” Sam responds proudly before Tucker gave her a dead panned stare and Danny piped in. 

“Sam. You can control plants. Lord help anyone who crosses your bad side. And plants are meant to be innocent.”  The quick glare sent his way made him raise his hands in a placating manner. “No, no. I meant that as a good thing. Y'know. Plants are ‘innocent’ no one would expect you.”

That seemed to calm her down before she regained her composure and switchback to their old discussion. “Kay. You want anything from here before you leave?”

“I'll probably just raid your kitchen before I leave.”

“Kay. Take what you need. I've also got some echo shots hidden away if you need any?” Sam said as she stood up making her way to a poster on her wall before peeling it back. 

“Yeah, probably best, been wanting one for a while. Thanks Sam.” Danny stood up with a roll off the couch, grabbing his stuff before making his way to Sam who handed him a vial of glowing green liquid which Danny opened and tilted his head back drinking it like a shot. 

He recapped the vile and stuffed it in his pocket. “Tastes like a veggie sandwich with a hint of cranberry juice.” 

“Hmm. Must be a vegetarian day for you then.” Tucker mumbled not meant to be headed but was. 

Danny looked at him taken aback. Sam looked at Danny then Tucker a few times before settling on Tucker, “Tuck?”

The said boy looked up confused before realizing they hear his comment and let out a short ‘uhh’

Danny then piped up. “How'd you figure that? 

“ oh, well… y'know.” They didn't know. Sam slowly shook her head while Danny had the expression of someone who didn't know what to feel, talking to someone who apparently knew more about him than he did himself. 

“Well. There is a few reasons. Mainly you tend to crave ecto shots more when it's a vegetarian day, days or week. Then there is the fact you eat less on veggie days. And also when you have the ecto shots you either taste something healthy or vegetarian/vegan based, while on other days you tend to taste things like burgers, lasagne, cottage pie etcetera.”

“I…” Danny began after Tucker's explanation but paused again. Occasionally opening and closing his mouth a few times. 

“Damn Tucker… “ Sam spoke for him. 

Danny laughed weakly, like it was a joke he was supposed to understand.  His stomach, however, had already turned - phantom pains and phantom smells that never really left, lingering. 

“I'm gonna open that bag of worms at a later date. Not dealing with that right now. See you gays later.” Danny ended up saying in the end looking confused and conflicted. 

“Yeah. Stay safe Danny. “ Sam responded still looking at a sheepish Tucker. 

Danny left with an absent ‘yeah, bye’ briefly making a stop in Sam's large kitchen. 

The thought of opening the fridge made his throat tighten. He didn't know why. He didn't want to know why. 

The fridge light was too bright. Too clinical, holding a mixed scent of leftovers and something metallic he pretended not to notice, instead focussing on the cold air that spilled out and the white noise of the hum emanating from the fridge. 

He was about to reach for the items to make veggie sandwich, and some cranberry juice then paused whispered a short ‘what the fuck’

He relented after a short debate, eventually making the sandwich. And an extra grabbing a half empty box of beetroot crackers and an off branded chocolate bar. 

It was always easier to eat things that didn't bleed or need cooking. It was easier not to think about why. 

He shoved the crackers and chocolate in his bag before heading into a cupboard quickly changing into phantom, flying through the walls, keeping his invisibility washed over him as he slowly flew back to Fenton works munching on his food. 

Back to the homes of Jack and Madeline Fenton. 

And his sister. 

The taste didn't make him sick tonight. That counted as a win. 

He thought back to everything they talked about that night. The jokes. The ‘what if's’. He felt guilty. He did, truly, but what could he do. He was a heavily traumatized 16 year old kid, with scars that shouldn't exist and a crown he shouldn't have but does. 

He couldn't lie, he agreed with Sam and Tucker that he couldn't be a king. But he was. 

Kings were supposed to be chosen. He'd just been the one who survived. 

Maybe he wasn't the king just yet. But he was the crown prince. 

Even ghosts had standards for age apparently. And Danny was still a baby ghost. 

He died before learning how to drive and now he has a kingdom to rule. It's almost funny. 

So he had Dora, Pandora, clockwork and Frostbite working a collective regent for him. But final say could still be changed by him. He tried to implement a voting system. But that would only narrow down possibilities to a smaller amount of choices when needed. 

Clockwork would prevent any truly bad choices, to save timelines. Dora would act as the political face for the more older ghosts who were still hopefully for formalities. Pandora helped with actually talking to the people, a short of liaisons, and frostbite would help with management. 

They called it guidance…

He called it making sure he didn't break anything else. 

It worked well for him. And that's all that mattered to him. He trusted them, but it didn’t make it lighter. Every decision felt like he was diffusing a bomb only he could see.

His other guilty conscience, though, hurt a lot. 

Frostbite walked up to him, papers in his skeletal arm, as the other came up to place a gently palm on his shoulder. 

It wasn’t the look of a doctor. It was the look of someone measuring consequences.

“Young prince. You're not even a year old ghost. Yet you have already learnt how to manipulate your appearance.”

“What do you mean frostbite?”

Eyes looked at him as if he was piecing together pieces of a puzzle no one else knew existed. 

“Ghosts. Neverborns. Ancients. And every other realms being has the ability to learn how to change their looks to their wishes. It takes a lot to learn and can be draining to some. But you have self taught yourself the skill. And by the looks of it, it is a constant thing.”Danny’s first instinct was to deny it.

His second was worse — relief.

Because if he was doing it on purpose, then maybe he wasn’t broken. Just… choosing

“How?... But why? How do you know?”

Danny started to worry. Looking into those soft understanding eyes didn't help. No. They unsettled him. As if he was being watched. No. Seen. 

“The why's I don't know. The how? Well… I'm sorry to say this but the injury you got from that last fight should have left a ghosts scar. But I don't see any.”

Danny laughed at first. A short, breathless sound that didn't reach his eyes. 

“Ghost scar?”

Danny didn't understand. Ghosts didn't have an actual physical body. How did that work? 

“Yes. A ghost scar is when an injury you as an ecto being have received that actually impacts your body scars like any normal living. However instead it manifests a new appearance for the individual. For example my arm. It was Heald, but because it was cut off originally it Heald like this. A skeleton in ice. Functioning despite all reason.”

A pause made Danny realise something. It's like a manifestation of the mental impact… 

“So…  my scars they'd manifest like yours, or similarly… based on the severity.”

He didn't like that. He really didn't like that. How many injuries has he gotten? 

“Yes. Here take this. Try meditating or relaxing as you are now thinking of the aim to look like your true self and your control will disappear. And with that you should also start having more energy and power as phantom.”

“... This is just a gem… never mind. Okay. Ill try what you said.”

The gem felt heavier than it looked. Like responsibility always did. 

Danny did do it. But he didn't like it. 

Part of him hoped it wouldn't work. That Frostbite was wrong. That he was still normal in at least one way. But in the sand, it was just his hopes. And at the end of the night he floated in front of his bathroom window staring at himself. 

Denial. Grief. Fear. Hatred. All these passing through him in a matter of seconds. 

The black chard skin on his hands and arms makes his skin look like over cooked chicken. 

The transparent windows into his insides, glowing the bright yet dull green of his ghostly blood, sometimes the harshest of movements allowing visibility to something solid which Danny didn't want to think about. 

His burned eye from the accident, now one singular sphere of green, making a mockery out of him, movement not visible but the distinct feeling of being watched still present. Even the tears bled his green. 

A black serpent-like mass of a ghost tail, elongated and a dull black. It looked the most normal for a ghost. The most solid. But if you looked closer you'd see the faint outline of a skeleton. More accurately, snake skeleton. 

Slightly longer, bone-ier left arm. The same one that acted as the conduit for all that electricity. The skin dull and heavily tanned in comparison to the rest of his already tanned features as a ghost, harsh, half visible, lightning-like lines spread across his left side, his chest over his heart had a cylindrical explosive like mark.

Those suggestions he didn't like at all. 

All of it. He hated it. The worst was the barcode like lines on his arms. 

The once invisible lines on human skin became visible. But they shouldn't be there. His ghost never got them. It was Human Danny who did them. Not Phantom.

The small but abundant lines of nothing but black. Like a void. Some bunched together enough, making a small void in his skin. Thankfully covered by his suit. But uniform and telling. 

Like a scream in a silent forest. 

It wasn't the damage that scared him. It was how honest it felt.

Thankfully everything covered by his suit even when he doesn't try to hide it. His full face respirator mask hiding everything, other than the things on his face. 

Even when he decided to dump the old hazmat suit and replace it with more comfortable stuff he worked it around everything so it remained covered. The mask the only reminder of the original set. 

He’d wanted answers. He hadn't wanted evidence. 

It scared him. He hid it. Always. Leaving unblemished skin. On top of the true skin that shouldn't exist. 

Control came easier than acceptance. It always had. 

But it exists, and Danny lives with it. Day in and night. He just avoids his reflection, his mind couldn't be fooled by the fake reflection no matter how hard he tried. He always sees the monster not Danny or phantom. And that he can't live with. 

He didn't look at mirrors much anymore. Reflections had opinions. Opinions he tried to avoid. Avoid like it was the only thing he knew how to do. 

So he goes about his day like normal. Like now. Casually flying back home, finishing his last sandwich, flying past windows. He'd pass through the glass instead of looking or acknowledging. 

Streetlights blurring into golden streaks beneath him as he flew past, the night air passing through him, cool and thin and not quite touchable. It was peaceful moments like this that he enjoyed the most. Somewhere below, a dog barked at nothing. He didn't check if it was him, instead kept his eyes on the rapidly approaching Fenton works. 

He was about to fly down to the floor after becoming visible again, finally getting back to the home of the Fentons.

Then he spotted jazz through one of the windows pacing back and forth. 

“Jazz?” Danny barely mumbled her name but before he knew it her head whipped around in that weird owl way that looked creepy on humans and marched over to the window Danny was still floating by. 

In a matter of second jazz had opened the window with a great amount of force and yanked Danny in by the collar of his black cropped hoodie that he wore as phantom. 

And for once, he wasn't the one shaking. 

“whoa, jazz what's up?” Danny quickly de-transformed as he spoke in a loud whisper. 

“Sorry Danny. I just. Worried. Stressed. You were late. Didn't answer the phone. Mom and dad are out. I panicked. I tried not to react. But I did. Now there is a black match in my room on the ceiling. And-and…”

By this point jazz was breathing heavily clearly trying to stay calm as she shook both her hands as if trying to get water off them. 

“Jazz. Jazzy. Look at me. Calm. Kay? Deep breaths. Why don't you start from the top? Yeah?”

The words came out steady, practiced. He hated how familiar this felt - just from the other side. 

After Danny managed to bring her down from an almost spiral, Jazz nodded, as she took a deep breath and let it go with a visible slump of her shoulders, a swift familiar movement of cracking her knuckles and fingers. 

She looked up again, meeting his eyes this time more calmly but with a hint of embarrassment. 

“Sorry. Just. Okay, so, you know how you were meant to come home and take me to the realms to help me work on my control?” Jazz paused waiting for some acknowledgement which came in the form of a nod from Danny. “yeah ok. So, I was okay till maybe a few hours ago. I was working on the meditation that nocturn recommended when I noticed these.”  

She holds up her left hand showing the tips of her fingers a darker shade. Almost like she'd left out only her fingers to sunbath but no line, instead a smooth graduation, like his tail. 

“Freaky.” Was all that can out of Danny's mouth before he could stop himself as he lifted a hand to hers to look closer. 

She turned her hands. Once. Twice. Looking as if she was trying to will herself to believe they belonged to someone else and not her.

“Yeah. And also these, she used her other hand to pull back one side of her hair. At first Danny paused trying to figure out what she was trying to point out when he noticed how pointed her ears were. 

Not as much as Phantoms but definitely unnaturally. “What the… ?”

“Yeah. I mean. I don't think it's new, new exactly but… I mean, it's my fault for never actually looking at my ears, but that's definitely not normal, I even checked old photos to make sure.”

By this point her hands had returned in front of her wringing out her hands in a familiar way Danny recognizes that he does the same. 

“Why am I not even surprised that you checked?”

“Shut up. Anyway, after that, as you might be able to guess I panicked, maybe even over reacted, my hair did that thing where it went on fire which caused the black burn on my ceiling.” She paused looking slightly embarrassed by that exact detail. 

Danny almost laughed at the irony of this whole thing. If this was overreacting, he'd been living in a constant state of emergency for years. 

“Kay, so. My normally well composed older sister who definitely over works herself had a small slip in composure in a scenario where normal people would have a massive slip… That makes sense…”

“ha ha. Yeah laugh at me because I'm just funny to laugh at” she said in a very heavy sarcastic tone. 

“Yes. But no. Don't twist my words. Anyways, continue.” Danny responded with a small wave of his hand. 

“Well later mom and dad leave. And later after that while I was practicing some meditation techniques I realized you never told me when you'd be back or when we'd leave so I tried to call you. But you didn't answer. So I thought maybe you were just busy having fun, however I decided to call again later on. And, I kinda repeated that pattern till it became maybe like once every minute. See, with mom and dad out of the house I assumed the worst because I was already emotional.”

Guilt hit fast and deep - the old, heavy kind he carried for things that weren't always his fault. 

“Oh jazz.”  Danny couldn't help but show an understanding expression as he pulled her in for a quick hug. “Sorry Jazz. I think I left my phone at home, and either dead or silent. I'm sorry I worried you.”

He held her for a bit in the hug. She was warm. Almost too warm. Alive in a way he sometimes forgot he wasn't. And yet at the same time not completely alive. He held on a second longer than he meant to.

“No, no. It's not your fault, don't be sorry. I'm just overreacting.” was her response as she wiped at one eye getting rid of an abundance of tears in the corner.

“No, you weren't. Your the one who's always telling me to stop putting all the blame on myself. Now I'm telling you. It wasn't your fault. Id most definitely have reacted the same if I were you. Besides, right now your emotional walls are very weak. It's best to let things out when you can to ensure your half core grows healthy. Doctors' words. Not mine.”

He smiled softly. He smiled because it was easier than anything else. Danny finishes with a tone as if stating a matter of fact. Which he was. But it annoyed jazz nevertheless. 

Jazz couldn’t hold back the soft smile, full of appreciation and worry with a lingering hint of fear. “Thank you Danny. Thank you. It’s jus, I am getting worried. I don’t want to… I don’t want to stop recognizing myself… As stupid as that sounds.” She admitted, quieter than before with fear lacing her words.

If that didn’t hit Danny where it hurt most then he didn’t know what would. The small flinch at that statement was telling. But if Danny where to guess, he’d be thankful to say Jazz was too bussy wiping away forming tears to see his non inconspicuous flinch at her words and definitely wouldn’t have seen the reaction on his face, which he most certainly schooled, and replaced it with a sympathetic look.

Danny took a slow calming breath allowing how to relax his body so he looked calm and collected with a lopsided smile as he placed one of his hands on her shoulder. 

“Hey, hey. It's okay. I promise, you won't lose yourself. Just take a deep breath for me, yeah? We'll work through everything step by step. I promise you everything will be fine.”

Jazz let out a slow breath, the kind that trembled on the way out like it had to squeeze past something tight in her chest first.

Danny stayed right where he was in front of her, hand still loosely on her shoulders. Not gripping. Just there. Grounding.

“Better?” he asked softly.

She gave a small nod. “Yeah. I think so. Sorry. That was… a lot.” weather the slight tremble in her hands was a sign of still not being okay, or consequences of what was most likely a panic attack, Danny didn't know. He wasn't the one studying therapy shit. 

“You’re allowed,” he said immediately. “You’re literally growing a second existence inside you. Bit dramatic of your body, honestly.” he pulled a face, shrugging one shoulder stretching one side of his mouth to give a quick fake grin. Hiding his internal grimace at the similarities of their situation. 

That earned him a weak snort. Good. He counted that as progress. This time an actual small grin appeared on his lips. 

They stood there a second longer before Danny stepped back and glanced toward her bed. “Sit?” he offered, feeling awkward by the sudden science while they stayed stood up in the middle of the room. 

Jazz nodded again, wiping under her eyes with the heel of her hand as she moved to sit cross-legged near the edge of the mattress. Danny dropped into her desk chair backwards, arms folding over the backrest, chin resting on them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was nice. Calming. 

Not often they got to do this, with them being busy with all their respective problems. Main common denominator being Jack and Madeline Fenton. 

The room still smelled faintly of smoke — not thick, not dangerous, just the ghost of it lingering in the air. Danny held back a snort at his own internal joke, honestly he should do stand up comedy. A black scorch mark stretched across part of the ceiling like a spilled shadow. Jazz followed his gaze up to it and grimaced.

“I’ll fix that,” she muttered.

“Or,” Danny said, “we tell Mom it’s modern art.”

She gave him a look.

“What? Very abstract. Title it ‘Teenage Angst but Make It Flammable’.”

That got a real laugh out of her, short but genuine, and something in Danny’s chest loosened.

Good. Keep it light. Keep her here. “We could even use some paints to accentuate the angst factor.” Danny smirked when this got a resigned smile out of his sister. As hypocritical as it is, Danny couldn't bring himself to believe she should have all this struggle. She didn't deserve to be scared, or miserable, or paranoid or anything negative really. She should be happy or at least content. 

“Hang on,” Danny said suddenly, digging into his bag at his side. “Emergency emotional support supplies.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow as he pulled out the slightly crushed packet of beetroot crackers and the off-brand chocolate bar.

She stared. “You robbed Sam’s kitchen.” okay he did. But ‘robbed’ felt like too strong of a word. 

“I prefer the term strategic redistribution of resources.”

“You took the weird crackers.” ouch. Okay yes, they are the ‘weird’ cracked. But their good. Sue him, they're not that bad. 

“They were on sale,” he said defensively, talking like he's the one who bought them, already opening them. “Also they taste like cardboard with ambition. I like them.”

Jazz snorted again and took a few when he offered them. They ate in the comfortable quiet only siblings who’ve survived shared chaos can manage. Not the bickering. Not the fighting. Not the ones who finish each other's sentences. No. The type who went through similar hardships and understands each other in a way probably no one other will. Well, maybe future partners would know but that's a future then problem. 

The crackers crunched loud in the still, silent room.

Danny watched her from the corner of his eye. Her shoulders weren’t up by her ears anymore. Her hands had stopped shaking. The faint dark gradient at her fingertips pulsed once, then settled.

Good. She’s stabilizing.

He broke off a piece of chocolate and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, softer now.

“Doctor Fenton prescribes sugar and carbs,” he said. “Very advanced medical practice.”

“Mm. I’ll be sure to cite you in my thesis.”

“You better.” he paused. Wait. “Wait, hold on. How does sugar and carbs relate to your psychology thesis?”

Jazz looked at him. Almost as if debating something. “I could explain but I feel like it'll either go over your head or you will get distracted.”

Danny was going to argue because, rude. But then paused, took a moment to think, and yeah. “Touché.”

After a few minutes, Danny dusted cracker crumbs off his hoodie and took a breath.

Danny took a pause, a moment to think. When he got dragged into the room by his collar through the window he hadn’t had the chance to acknowledge everything that was happening. 

But now he could.

When Jazz was panicking, small heat waves were forming around her. The contrast to his being a chill.

“Okay,” he said, shifting tone just a little. Not heavy. Just… purposeful. “So. Training arc.”

Jazz perked up slightly. But paused and pulled a face. “Training arc? Actually. Never mind. Ignore me. You’ve planned something.”

“Obviously. I am a very responsible ghost prince. I have spreadsheets.” Danny pulled the most proud expression he could, hands on hips. 

“You do not.”

“I don’t. But I could.” He deflated instantly. 

She gestured for him to continue.

Danny rocked the chair back and forth slightly as he talked, eventually settling on leaning forward on it, balancing the chair on its back two legs. “So. Mom and Dad are out late, probably overnight if the thermos count in the kitchen was anything to go by.”

Jazz made a face. Accurate.

“And,” he continued, “summer holidays. No school. No curfew anyone can enforce without admitting they lost track of us in another dimension.”

“…Good point.”

“I asked Clockwork for a training area,” Danny said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Somewhere stable, low-threat, and with a slower time ratio.”

Jazz blinked. “Slower like…?”

“Like a few days there equals a few hours here,” Danny said, trying to remember the words clockwork told him. “So we can actually take our time without Mom bursting in asking why we smell like sulfur and poor decisions.”

Jazz’s eyes widened slightly. “He agreed?”

“Yeah. Left me a very judgey sentient hourglass about it, but yes.”

She smiled faintly. “Okay… that’s actually amazing.”

“Right? So here’s the line-up.”

He started ticking names off on his fingers.

“First stop: Frostbite. Medical, control basics, core stability stuff. He’s great at the ‘don’t accidentally explode yourself’ lessons.” Danny did try to count his fingers normally, but his hypermobility just made it fun to play with his finger, so he ended up pushing each finger back further than any normal person could.

“Reassuring.” Honestly Danny couldn’t tell if that was a tone of genuine relief or sarcasm, so he settled for both.

“Then Pandora. She’s good with emotional channelling and controlled release — basically how to use strong feelings instead of letting them use you.”

Jazz nodded slowly, absorbing every word, figuring pandora would definitely be the best for that task considering her story as the living.

“Dorathea — Dora — wants to help with form control and posture and, like… royal bearing nonsense,” Danny added. “But honestly it’s good for learning how to hold yourself when your powers are active.”

Jazz gave him a sideways look. “You just don’t want to be the only one stuck in etiquette lessons.”

“Correct.”

He kept going.

“Fright Knight and Ember both offered to help with fire-core management. Ember’s good with emotional expression through flame — colour, intensity, flares. Fright Knight’s more discipline and containment.”

Jazz blinked. “That’s… a weirdly balanced duo.” Jazz and Danny both couldn’t decide how they felt about that partner up, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it.

“Ya think? Welcome to my life.”

“And after that?”

“Nocturn,” Danny said, sounding a bit reluctant but somehow hopefull.. “He’s going to teach you sleep and meditation techniques that let you rest without fully dropping your control barriers. So you don’t, y’know, set your bed on fire during a nap.”

“…I appreciate that being a goal, but also, when did Nocturn decide to start actually being a bit more civil and less ‘i want power blah blah blah’?” she said starting out dryly moving into confusion.

All Danny did was give an exaggerated shrug before moving on.

Danny smiled a little. “We’ll go at your pace. If anything feels like too much, we stop. No pushing past your limits just to impress ghost royalty, okay?”

Jazz’s expression softened. “Okay.”

He hesitated a fraction of a second, then added lightly, “Plus, it gives me an excuse to check in on everyone without them staging an intervention about my work habits.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Danny.”

“I’m kidding.”

She kept looking.

“…Mostly kidding.”

But he was smiling, and it didn’t look forced.

“Does that plan sound okay?” he asked.

Jazz took a slow breath, then nodded. “Yeah. It does. It actually… makes me feel a lot better.”

“Good,” he said, relief threading through the word.

They packed up quickly after that. Jazz tied her hair back tighter than usual. Danny slung his bag over his shoulder.

They moved through the house quietly, lights off, steps memorized from years of sneaking snacks and avoiding ghost-hunting parents. He instinctively walks slightly behind her at first, then forces himself to walk beside her instead.

Halfway down the hall, Danny suddenly held an arm out to stop her.

“What?” she whispered.

He pointed downward.

A faint green light blinked near the baseboard. Small. Almost invisible.

“…Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

“New sensor?” Jazz asked.

“Yep. Dad must’ve installed it this morning.”

Danny crouched, pulling a small screwdriver from his pocket like this was a completely normal thing to carry.

Jazz crossed her arms. “You just have that?”

“Jazz. I live here. You can’t tell me you don’t carry random tools on you most of the time.”

Fair.

He popped the casing open, carefully snipping one wire and rerouting another.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Now it thinks we’re houseplants.”

“…That doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither do half our lives. Roll with it.”

The light flickered, then went dark.

Danny gave her a thumbs up. “We are officially classified as Ficus.”

“Thrilling.” she said while staring blankly at the sensor then to Danny.

They slipped down the basement stairs after that, the familiar hum of the lab growing louder.

The portal roared to life in a wash of green light as they opened the doors that were covering the hole in the wall which lead to a different dimension..

Danny glanced at Jazz. “Ready?”

She nodded, jaw set but eyes steady.

“Stick close,” he said, and stepped through with her right behind him.

The temperature shifted instantly — cooler, thinner air, charged with that electric, almost metallic tang unique to the Zone.

The sky stretched above them in swirling greens and distant streaks of violet lightning. Floating islands drifted lazily in the distance. The ground beneath their feet glowed faintly through cracks like bioluminescent veins.

Jazz sucked in a quiet breath.

Danny looked at her — and paused. To start, small flames flickered in the cracks of the ground where they stood, when her emotions spiked with her quiet gasp.

The change rolled over her gently, like the Zone recognizing her, while his body snapped into his own unique ‘Phantom’ look.

Her hair lifted halfway first, rising as if caught in warm updraft burning the hair tie she used to tie up earlier. Strands blurred, edges flickering into flame — deep oranges and golds near the roots, fading into streaks of electric blue at the tips. The colours pulsed softly, reacting to her breathing.

Her skin warmed a shade darker, a sun-touched tone that mirrored Danny’s own ghost complexion. The gradient at her fingers deepened into visible black fading at the tips, like cooled embers and in the same way his ghostly tail does and how his left arm does when he doesn’t hide himself.

Her ears tapered subtly into points, yet again, like his own.

Her eyes shifted last — sclera darkening into inky black while her irises glowed a rich, steady purple while her lashes turned a bleached white like his hair and yet her eyebrows contradicting the rest of her hair colours and remained a clear black.

Her clothes barely changed, but the teal in her iconic headband deepened into violet, and her jeans took on the same muted purple tone, like the Zone had simply… recolored her to match the theme of different colour pallets.

Danny grinned.

“Okay,” he said. “That is extremely cool, we even look related - with me as phantom. Your freckles are glowing too, just like mine… just yours look more amber while mine a green.”

Jazz looked down at herself, flexing her fingers. Small flickers of flame danced between them, harmless, controlled.

“You think?” she asked. Small embers drifted lazily around her like fireflies occasionally blending in with her hair.

“Yeah,” he said. “Very ‘mysterious fire guardian of the void.’ Ten out of ten.”

She rolled her eyes — and lightly smacked his shoulder.

Her hair flared brighter red for a split second, flames shooting higher.

“Okay okay!” he laughed, holding up his hands. “See? Emotional colour coding! Very educational.”

She huffed, then visibly took a breath, and the flames softened back to their usual warm glow.

“…Still working on that,” she muttered.

“You’re doing great,” he said easily. “Okay, first before we do anything. Rule one f ghost training: If it hisses, floats, or whispers your full name - Don’t touch it…”

And he meant it. She was doing better than he did when he started out.

As a second after thought, he realized something. The air near Danny felt cool and thin. While the air near Jazz felt warmer, like standing near Sam's fireplace in winter. It pulled him in, promising comfort.

He stepped closer and held out his hand.

“C’mon,” he said, smiling — not forced, not hiding, just… brother. “Let’s go. I’ll lead the way.”

Jazz took his hand.

And together, they started flying across the glowing landscape toward the distant ice spires where Frostbite waited, Danny talking the whole time about which ghosts had the worst tea, which ones cheated at board games, and why Ember absolutely could not be trusted with playlist control, occasionally making bad ghost puns to keep her distracted.

For a little while, he wasn’t thinking about mirrors.

Just his sister’s hand in his, warm and real, and the sound of her laughing beside him as the Ghost Zone opened wide ahead of them. Jazz’s flames cast light that doesn’t quite follow physics - shadows stretched. And beside her. Danny’s glow reflecting faintly on surfaces like moonlight on water.

Jazz squeezing his hand tighter when they passed a darker area, asking questions, pulling herself closer. Maybe this would bring them a chance to spend some great sibling bonding time together.

other chapters here