Inside, it's nothing like any town car she's been in before. It has the standard four seats, two against the back, two against the front, turned to face each other, but otherwise, it lacks all expected luxuries. Instead of plush leather, the seats are basic vinyl with neoprene covers on top. The carpet is stripped away, replaced with metal panels. Computer screens bearing the Fenton Works logo cover the windows on the left side of the car. The small drink stations Valerie has grown used to over the past couple years are gone. In their place stands a compact computer console on one side of the car and a fully stocked weapons' rack on the other.

Valerie stares at it all, mouth gaping shamelessly, wondering what all of this says about the Fentons themselves. Are they showy? Practical? The number of guns—she counts six—seems unnecessary. But, thinking of her own arsenal compacted into thick bracers on her wrists and cuffs on her ankles, she knows there's no such thing as too many guns when it comes to ghost hunting.

The partition separating the driver from the passengers goes down. The driver turns to face her, and Valerie's mouth falls open even wider. There's no mistaking that red beanie, those bulky half-moon glasses, the impossibly turquoise eyes.

"Tucker Foley?" Valerie exclaims.

"The one and only!" Tucker grins. Turning all the way around, he leans over the partition, elbows braced on the seats facing Valerie. "Haven't seen you since graduation. Feels like yesterday."

"It was two years ago."

Tucker sighs wistfully. "Yesterday."

"You work for the Fentons now? As their driver?" Valerie asks. She always thought Tucker would go big into technology development, coding, something like that. Or become a wanted cybercriminal.

"Me? A driver? And waste all these good looks? Please." Tucker scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "I run the computer division at Fenton Works. When I heard Mr. and Mrs. F were hiring you, I just had to come get you myself."

"You're twenty," Valerie says.

"Hey, cool, you still know how to count. That's a great skill."

"You're twenty, and you're running a whole division at Fenton Works?"

"You're twenty and you have your own security company," he points out.

"One person company.

"One person division." Tucker grins. "It's really just me and my computer. Cyber security against ghosts isn't a big field yet."

Valerie eyes Tucker, unsure how to respond. Whatever she expected, Tucker wasn't it. Now, she feels off-balance, like she's missing something important, and she hates that feeling. It shouldn't matter that much. Amity Park isn't a huge city; the chances of her running into a former classmate are rather high. But Tucker was prepared for Valerie, and she wasn't prepared for him. Childishly, she feels like she's at a disadvantage. Which is ridiculous because she's here to fight ghosts, not Tucker. But his sudden appearance has disarmed her so completely that, if a ghost were to attack right then, she would be too stunned to react.

"You should see the look on your face," Tucker says.

Valerie purses her lips and scowls, wiping away whatever amusing expression has Tucker giggling under his breath. "You should drive."

Tucker's laugh balloons into gleeful cackles as he turns back around. "Whatever you want, Ms. Grey!"

Valerie, fuming, slams her thumb on the partition button, rolling it back up. To her annoyance, she can still hear Tucker's infuriating laugh through the glass.

—

When Valerie says the Fentons are a feature of Amity Park, she really means their laboratory, Fenton Works. Don't get her wrong, Maddie and Jack Fenton are a sight all on their own. On any given day, they can be seen tearing down the street in their bulky weaponized RV, guns blazing, wearing their brightly coloured jumpsuits. Seeing them for the first time is quite the experience. You can easily spot nearby tourists by checking people's reactions to the Fentons.

But Fenton Works. Fenton Works is a monolith dedicated to every crackpot idea the Fentons have ever had. When Valerie was in high school, Fenton Works was a single townhouse standing proudly at the corner of Lady and Red, bearing an obnoxiously neon sign. Above it loomed a massive saucer-shaped structure covered in more satellites than the local news station. Back then, Valerie thought the townhouse was a leering giant. Nowadays, it's dwarfed by the massive warehouse that takes up the rest of the block.

"Damn," Valerie whispers, peering out the righthand window as they turns onto Lady Avenue.

Tucker lowers the partition. "Pretty cool, right?"

Valerie eyes the mural of ghosts decorating the side of the building. "It's something."

Rather than stopping in front of the townhouse, Tucker turns onto Red Crescent and loops around to the back of the facility. Along the avenue, the warehouse is built almost right up to the sidewalk. On this side, however, there's a wide parking lot and, oddly enough, a lush garden surrounding a pond.

"I'm not the only one who thinks that looks weird, right?" She points to the pond.

Tucker cranes his neck, following her finger, and chuckles. "Jazz asked her parents to put that in so that employees have somewhere 'calming' to go. There's a greenhouse up on the roof, too,"

Pressing her cheek to the window, Valerie tries to spot the aforementioned greenhouse, but they're too close to the building now for her to see it.

Tucker pulls into a reserved parking spot just across from the homely picket fence that surrounds the townhouse's backyard. Valerie officially has no idea what to think about the Fentons.

"Come on," Tucker says, throwing open his door. "Everyone's waiting for you."

Valerie grabs her suitcase and climbs out of the car, nudging the door shut behind her. "Everyone?" She looks over the car at Tucker.

He twirls the keychain around his finger. "You'll see."

Valerie expects him to head for the townhouse but, to her surprise, he pivots right and starts walking to the warehouse doors.

"Come on," he calls over his shoulder.

Valerie jogs after him, easily hoisting her suitcase in one hand, and ponders on what the inside the facility looks like. Crates of weapons stacked one on top of the other. An arsenal of ghost hunting vehicles, everything from their patented RV design to their one of a kind all-terrain bus. All-terrain meaning it flies in the human realm and the Ghost Zone. The ground can't stop you if you never touch it. She pictures an honest to god warehouse and prepares herself for exactly that sight when they reach the front doors.

The moment they go inside, however, Valerie promptly decides to never assume anything about the Fentons and how they operate ever again.

"Something wrong?" Tucker asks when he sees Valerie stuck in the doorway.

"No," she says honestly. "It's fine." She steps into the foyer, complete with a receptionist's desk, comfortable armchairs for waiting, and a few potted plants. Looking behind her, she sees floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the pond. Valerie could have sworn the walls were solid from the outside.

"Hey, Octavia." Tucker waves to the receptionist. Pulling a lanyard out of his pocket, he shows her an employee ID card. "I've got the nine o'clock."

"It's four in the afternoon," Octavia, a modest middle-aged woman, says without looking up from her computer.

"Time is relative. Val." Valerie stops gawking at the room and looks to Tucker. "You can leave your suitcase here, unless you need anything from it. Octavia can take it to the guest room."

"I can, but I won't," Octavia says. "They're in the Boom Room."

"Love you too, babe." Tucker clicks his tongue, shooting Octavia double finger-guns, and ducks through a doorway at the back of the room.

Valerie stands awkwardly in the middle of the foyer.

Octavia finally raises her head, giving Valerie a critical look. After a moment, she sighs and holds out her hand. "I'll take your bag. Trust me, Tucker'll be halfway across the building if you don't follow him now. That kid never looks back."

"Thank you." Valerie rushes over, passing her bag across the desk, and follows Tucker. On the other side of the door is a long plain hallway. She looks right, then left, but there's no sign of Tucker. She debates her chances of choosing a random direction and finding him by pure luck. Before she can decide, a long ding rings out. The noise draws her attention to a set of elevators down the hall on her left.

The doors open. Tucker pokes his head out. "Hurry up, slowpoke.

Valerie wonders if punching Tucker in the face will affect her paycheque. Just once. Just a small jab. She won't even break his nose. In the end, she decides not to risk it, settling on a fierce glare as she reaches the elevator.

"This is a big place, you don't want to get lost," Tucker says.

"Then don't leave me behind."

"Not my fault you're slow." Tucker hits the button for the third floor—third out of five.

What on Earth the Fentons need all this space for, Valerie has no idea. She tries to picture it, then remembers how her expectations keep getting smashed to pieces and thinks better of it. There will be lots of time to find out.

"Why Fenton Works?" Valerie asks, filling the silence.

Tucker rocks back on his heels and hums. "Ghost stuff is kind of cool. I get to pioneer a whole new area of cyber security that no one even realizes we need, and I'm not even done college yet. Working here helps me pay for my online classes, too, so I don't even have to leave Amity."

"Why? Sounds like you'd still have a job waiting for you when you graduate." She can't imagine Tucker spilling his cyber secrets to someone else before he can cultivate the field himself. Surely, then, the Fentons would need him on board, no matter how long he puts off working for them.

"Yeah," Tucker nods, "I would. But I'm staying for Danny."

"Just dandy, kiddo! Thanks for asking!" Valerie immediately recognizes Jack Fenton's booming voice. He is, by far, the most vocal of all the Fentons.

"Let's go. I want to see what blew up."

As they walk down the stairs, Valerie scans the bottom floor. Two figures occupy the middle of the room: Jack Fenton, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit as neon as the sign outside, and Maddie Fenton, who boasts a much subtler, more pleasing blue. Along with their jumpsuits, they wear protective goggles, gloves, and boots. A smoking crater stretches between them.

Maddie pushes her goggles up and sighs in dismay. "Looks like another no good batch, honey."

"Damn. I'll pack it away with the others." Jack bends down to an open metal case at his feet. Nine glowing green vials rest inside, embedded in protective foam padding. The tenth slot is empty. Jack closes the case and tromps over to a rack against the wall, sliding it into an empty space next to dozens of identical cases.

When Tucker and Valerie reach the ground floor, the first thing she notices is a wide metal door tucked underneath the stairs, lurking in the corner of her eye. "Why did we take an elevator up and stairs down when there's a door right there?" Valerie glares at Tucker.

"Safety procedures. If the Boom Room is occupied, you have to enter through the top door," Tucker explains.

"Boom Room?" Valerie asks. The receptionist, Octavia, called the room the same thing.

"It's where we test our more volatile inventions." Maddie drags down her hood, shaking out her short auburn hair, and smiles at Valerie. "You must be the Red Huntress. I'm Maddie Fenton, but Maddie is fine." She holds out her hand.

Valerie takes it, giving it a firm squeeze and a shake. "You can just call me Valerie. Why do you test in here?"

"Well, it's not called the Boom Room for nothing!" Jack bounds over. Without even shaking Valerie's hand, or introducing himself first, he grabs her shoulder and turns her bodily toward the heavy doors. "All doors into the room are blast resistant. We only have these babies down here for hauling in the big buns, or when we're testing out ecto-powered engines. Can't exactly fit those through that tiny thing up there." Jack jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing back up the stairs. "But that's not the only thing! You see, when we built this place, we–"

"Jack, dear. Could you start the unlocking procedure? I think we've done enough testing for today," Maddie interrupts, gently touching Jack's shoulder.

"You got it, Mads!" He scampers toward the doors without a second thought. Valerie watched him go, her eyebrows knitting together as she puzzled over the sudden dismissal.

"Good call, Mrs. F," Tucker, hovering at Valerie's shoulder, says. "I don't want to miss dinner again. It's pot roast tonight." That only makes Valerie more confused.

"Sorry about that, dear. If you let Jack get going, he won't stop lecturing for anything." Maddie smiles softly. "As much as I love hearing my husband talk, I know not all people do."

"Oh, uh. No, it's fine. I actually am curious about the room." Valerie gives the metal panels stretching twenty feet up the wall a pointed look.

Valerie's statement ignites and eager glean in Maddie's gaze. "Oh! Isn't that just fantastic? In that case," she points over Valerie's shoulder, "do you see those vents on the wall behind you?"

Valerie turns and looks up. The first three vents rest inches above the metal panels. From there to the ceiling, a new row of vents digs into the wall at five-foot intervals, all the way to the top.

"Everything below those first vents is blast-proof, even the stairs. It keeps the rest of the building safe. To prevent the other walls from blowing out, those vents lead directly outside, into a courtyard in the middle of the facility. Up there," Maddie points to the ceiling, which is a wide skylight, "the windows can be opened using a control pad by the door. If a big enough explosion goes off, it gets directed up and out rather than through the rest of the building."

Valerie is impressed. Very impressed. She also thinks the Fentons are insane. "What are you making that could cause that big of an explosion?"

"Nothing, usually." Maddie's charming smile feels very out of place in this situation. "But right now we're working on an ectoplasm based strength enhancer."

Valerie wrinkles her nose. "You want to make ghosts stronger?"

Maddie laughs. "Don't be silly! This is for humans. We're just having trouble making a batch that won't explode when agitated." She gestures to the rack of briefcases. "There's no way to safely dispose of them, yet, so we keep it all here for now."

Thinking about it all, Valerie feels lightheaded. They're in the middle of the city. If all those cases explode at once, it will blow up half the block. Suddenly, she isn't so eager to explore Fenton Works anymore. In fact, she would like very much to leave the building now, thank you. But Jack's not finished with the doors. With few other options, Valerie pushes on

"You want to make... some kind of super-soldier serum?" she asks.

"Oh, dear, no. It's not for anything like that." Valerie waits for Maddie to elaborate, but all she gets is that same pleasant smile. It's sweet. Too sweet for how much pain she sees in Maddie's eyes. Valerie wants to ask more about the project, but that severe smile beats her curiosity back.

A loud siren rips through the room, one long shriek, accompanied by a flash of red light. Startled, Valerie whirls around, although she manages to keep her weapons at bay this time. At the doors, Jack has his hand on a biometric scanner. Something within the door clunks, the sound followed by a low hiss.

Valerie shuffles her feet as the door swings wide, edging away from Maddie and closer to Tucker. Nudging him, she grabs his attention and subtly tilts her head toward Maddie.

"It's a sore spot," Tucker whispers under his breath.

Valerie nods.

"I think it's about time we head home. Danny should be waiting for us, and I'm sure you want to know the details of the job," Maddie says.

Valerie nods again, too nervous to say anything. The Fentons aren't like any client she's had before. She's used to her richer clients being stuffy snobs, spoiled kids who heard something go bump in the night and got spooked. Sometimes there are genuine concerns. Malevolent ghosts that won't leave them alone. Lost souls lingering in places they shouldn’t be. It's always a humbling experience for her clients. Ghosts don't care how much money you have; they do whatever they want. And if Valerie wasn't there to save their asses, well... they're lucky she's there.

But the most glaring difference between the Fentons and any past jobs is skill. The Fentons are ghost hunters by trade. They dedicate themselves to outfitting people with personal ghost protection, be it basic defences or actual weaponry. They make guns and vehicles. They teach classes about ghosts. They're at the forefront of Ghost Zone exploration. Anything Valerie can do, the Fentons already do better.

Which is why she doesn't understand what they need her for. Surely whatever is going on with their son, they can protect him far better than she can.

—

Sitting in the living room of the original Fenton Works building, Valerie marvels at how homey it is. For fifteen years, this place housed what is now a world-famous company. Not even the whole building, but the basement. The rest of it looks like any other house—which makes sense because it is their house. But knowing that scientific history was made in the room below her feet makes Valerie giddy.

She bounces her knee and resists the urge to get up and pace. Right now, more than anything, she wants to go downstairs and see the original lab. Science had never been her forte in high school, and she barely understands that side of ghost hunting, but it fascinates her to no end.

A loud creak down the hall has her head snapping up. She starts to rise, then sits back down, driving her fist into her knee to keep her leg still. She wants to look professional and courteous, although by this point that image is already ruined. Tucker shattered all formal pretenses when he picked her up. Still, Valerie wants to try. So she sits up straight, setting her shoulders and raising her chin, and watches the corner expectantly.

Maddie and Jack step into view, but only them.

"Danny will be along in a moment. Things have been rough for him, recently," Maddie explains. She and Jack move to the opposite side of the room, stopping on either side of a comfortable looking armchair.

"While we're waiting for him, can I ask what exactly the job is? Your request was vague." Not just vague, it had been devoid of all useful information. Two days ago, Valerie got a call inquiring about her services, how much she charges, and how long she would be available. The voice on the other end hadn't been Maddie's or Jack's. Now that she thinks about it, it was probably Octavia calling on their behalf.

"For a few months now, Danny has been experiencing a minor haunting," Maddie states bluntly.

Valerie's blood runs cold. "A haunting?"

Jack nods, his expression grave.

"For months?" Valerie continues. "But that's..." Completely unprecedented. The longest haunting on record is thirty-four days. In Valerie's two years of official work, and her four years of unofficial experience before that, she only witnessed two hauntings. The first victim lasted a week before they were possessed. The second barely lasted a day.

"We've got good defences here, but they're designed for more tangible ghosts," Maddie says, an ironic twist in her grim smile. "Haunting Shades are much harder to keep out."

"And you can't drive it off?" Valerie asks. "You of all people should be able to. If you can just find the Shade the next time it visits–"

Jack silences her with a cold look. "You think we haven't tried that?"

Right. World famous-ghost hunters. Anything she can do, they have already done better. She's confident in her skills, worked hard to get where she is today, and, from time to time, deserves a little of the arrogance she feels. Sometimes, however, that means she forgets some people have worked much harder and gone much farther than her.

Maddie and Jack Fenton are two of those people

"Sorry," Valerie says quietly. Who is she, who has never been able to fight off a Shade before, to shame the Fentons for the same fault?

"No need to apologize. We've all got our moments." Jack beams. Valerie almost has whiplash from the complete three-sixty in personality. "This Shade's a slippery one. Even when it's here, we can't find it."

Maddie takes over for her husband. "We've got people working on that. Before Danny's haunting started, we were already working on a new ghost deterrent aimed at Shades. A business partner of ours has been heading the project. That's why we need you."

"For what, exactly?" Valerie asks.

"There's a week-long conference Jack and I need to attend. If all goes well, we could make a breakthrough in the anti-Shade project. But we can't bring Danny with us. Long trips aggravate his condition."

Valerie barely resists the urge to ask about said condition. She will see his condition for herself in a few minutes, but she can't help it. Danny doesn't photograph well, and the few pictures of him post-accident reveal very little about his person. The same morbid curiosity that grabs hold of you when you see the aftermath of disaster takes her now. She's not proud of it, but she feels it, nonetheless.

"We want you here as insurance. We don't think anything will happen, but we'd rather not leave Danny alone with everything that's going on," Maddie finishes.

Distantly, the stairs creak.

Valerie nods slowly. "Okay. I understand. I'll take the job."

"It'll be like a vacation for you! Our Danny's a lot stronger than some ghost. He's putting up a hell of a fight." Jack punches the air. There's a familiar glint in his eye, the same look Valerie gets from her father whenever he talks about how far she's come. Seeing it makes her smile.

"What does Danny–" Someone clears their throat, interrupting Valerie. Her head snaps toward the noise, her eyes finding the newcomer immediately. Pallid skin, sunken eyes, slouched against Tucker, Danny Fenton stares back at her.

"Hey. Valerie, right?" His voice is faint and hoarse.

Awkward for Danny because he thought Valerie was very pretty, and he was very not. Awkward for Valerie because some weird boy kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, and she did not appreciate his attention. No words passed between them for the entirety of the assembly. It was only when Principal Ishiyama finished her thirty-minute speech about the impending doom that was their high school careers that Danny finally got the courage to speak.

As the gym filled with the sound of stomping feet, students pounding their way down the bleachers, eager to head home at last, Danny lurched to his feet, stuck out his hand, and said, "I'm Danny."

Valerie tossed her hair over her shoulder and replied, "Not interested."

The next day at school, Danny did not attend. Two weeks later, his parents officially dropped him out of Casper High. Three weeks after that, his name and face were plastered across newspapers all over the country. Young Daniel Fenton, only fourteen, victim to a tragic accident and a terrible disease. You can't blame Valerie for not connecting the Danny she brushed off her first day of school with the boy whose name she would later learn and never forget. Before his accident, there was nothing remarkable about Danny Fenton.

Now, however, he cuts a striking image.

Danny lounges in the armchair across from Valerie, flanked on either side by his parents. He props his chin on his fist and drums the fingers of his other hand on the opposite armrest. In the back of her mind, Valerie thinks all he needs is a gun and he can be a mafioso from an old film. One flick of his finger and he can sentence her to death.

The image is ruined by his abundant frailty. Thin wrists she can snap in one fist, long bony fingers, hollow cheeks. He looks like a skeleton brought back to life rather than a boy edging closer to death. There's a slim difference between the two, but it's significant enough that Valerie finds one more apt than the other. His ashen skin and the green bruises around his eyes only further cement her opinion.

Perhaps a mafioso is the wrong comparison. Perhaps he reminds her more of the grim reaper, here to steal her soul.

"You don't look that different," Danny says. Even his voice is fragile, moments away from giving out.

"I'm sorry?" Valerie asks, taken aback.

"From high school. You're older, obviously, but you look the same."

Valerie presses her lips together, unsure of how to respond. Lying seems like the best option. Laugh, brush off the comment, then move on to the logistics of her stay. Maybe pepper in a quick word that Danny's changed a lot since then. Unless that would be rude. She waits too long, though, letting the seconds tick by as she flounders.

Danny's eyes widen in realization. He smiles at her, tight-lipped and resigned. "You don't remember me."

Valerie purses her lips and shakes her head.

"But you know who I am."

"Of course."

His smile slips into something more sardonic. "I guess you're interested now."

Valerie, realizing she's being mocked but not understanding why, scowls. It's bad form to cuss out her clients, but she wants to right now. Two minutes with Danny Fenton and he's already getting on her nerves. That takes special skill not many people have.

To her right, Tucker snickers. So far, he's stayed silent at the edge of the room, leaning against the wall. Not a Fenton but not a stranger. The grim reaper's right-hand man. The display of loyalty, subtle, almost imperceptible if not for how Tucker watches Danny like a hawk, is jarring. Valerie never would have thought the boy who chased a different girl each week had a loyal bone in his body. Apparently, he has one, and only one, for Danny Fenton.

Cutting through the awkward air, Valerie turns to Danny's parents. "When do you leave?"

Danny rolls his eyes, obviously unimpressed with the transparent deflection.

"Tomorrow," Maddie says, obliging Valerie. "We'll be back next Wednesday. Tonight, we want to show you the setup we've been using recently. It helps us measure how strong the Shade's presence is." She steps away from Danny's chair. Jack follows, both of them heading for the hall. "But that's for later. I'll be getting dinner started now. Octavia should have brought your bag to the guest room while we were in the warehouse. Tucker can show you where it is."

"What about..." Valerie trails off as Maddie and Jack leave the room, glancing at Danny.

"Oh, no. I love this chair. My favourite spot in the whole house." Danny sinks lower in his seat, kicking one leg up on the armrest. "I will chair-ish it for the rest of my days."

Valerie blinks. "Did you just–"

"Come on." Tucker hauls Valerie up by her elbow and drags her away.

"Sorry my jokes don't sit well with you!" Danny calls after them.

Tucker doesn't let go of Valerie's arm until they reach the foot of the stairs, well out of Danny's sight. She can still hear Danny muttering angrily, and Maddie and Jack shuffling about in the kitchen.

"Okay, first rule." Tucker takes off his beanie and runs his hand through his hair, which is longer than Valerie thought it would be, and curlier. "Don't agitate Danny."

"Agitate him?" Valerie whispers, her voice hissing between her teeth. "I barely talked to him. If anything, he agitated me."

Tucker shakes his head. "He puns more when he's agitated."

"'Puns' isn't a verb."

"It is now. Just, don't agitate him, okay? He'll get all worked up and then..." A muffled, wet cough punctuates Tucker's statement. He gestures emphatically, a silent I told you so. "The guest room is to the right, at the end of the hall. I need to help Danny."

Valerie crosses her arms and watches him leave. If he can't even tell her how she agitated Danny, then he doesn't get to make her feel guilty about it. He doesn't. He doesn't. Another hoarse cough rings out, the kind that tears at your throat and leaves it raw and aching. Valerie swallows, shuddering at the phantom sensation in her own throat.

She dithers on the stairs, uncertain. There's nothing for her to feel guilty about. Danny got himself worked up. Whatever he remembers that Valerie doesn't, it's not her fault. Their interaction must have been so minuscule for her not to recall it. Anyone else would have forgotten it. But Danny hadn't.

In Valerie's defence, it had been a short, meaningless exchange that anyone could forget. Not even a whole conversation, a mere sentence and a half passing between them. The first of many hollow conversations she would have over the next four years. But for Danny, it was his last high school experience. And you can't fault him for clinging to that final shred of normalcy when his life pitched into the deep end of abnormal not even four hours later.

But Valerie couldn't possibly know all that. So she sighs at the unfairness of it all, turns on her heels, and heads back toward the living room with an apology on her lips. A soft murmur stops her in her tracks inches before she steps into view.

"Your jokes are getting sloppy," Tucker says.

"There are only so many quality chair puns in existence, man. Cut me some slack," Danny answers, voice gruffer than before.

"I couldn't chair less."

"Ugh. I hate you."

"Shut up, you love me."

A moment of silence.

Danny clears his throat. "Yeah. I should text Sam."

"I don't think she's got service in Peru. Besides, she's getting home in a few days."

Valerie racks her brain for a moment, pondering whether she knows who they mean. Surprisingly, she does. Samantha Manson, another former classmate of hers, like Tucker. Last Valerie heard, Sam is backpacking in South America.

"I know. But it'd be nice, wouldn't it? For her to find that when she's done. Just in case." Danny's voice goes quiet at the end. Valerie's stomach flips at those despondent words, dismay seizing her. Evidently, there is more to Danny's situation than anyone has told her thus far.

"Don't be so fatalistic, man." A weak attempt at humour. Tucker's voice carries a strained hint of laughter.

"Damn it, Tucker, I'm being realistic!" Danny shouts.

In the kitchen, Maddie and Jack go silent. The whole house holds its breath following Danny's outburst. Now more than ever Valerie feels like she's intruding on a private moment, not just between Danny and Tucker, but the household at large. The wall, cold at her back, leaches the warmth from her splayed fingers. The very air bears down on her. She doesn't believe in household spirits, not the way some people do, where they treat a place with dignity, breathing life into inanimate walls and acting like it carries a soul. But, as silence rings out through the hall, she senses the house rejecting her, trying to push her out of this painfully intimate moment.

The strained atmosphere shatters when something clangs in the kitchen. The oppressive feeling vanishes. Valerie releases a breath she held for far too long and slumps against the wall. She presses a hand against her chest, trying to calm her beating heart. The Shade hasn't even shown up yet and she's already on edge.

Too busy trying to mollify her nerves—damn combative instincts, damn house—she doesn’t hear the sound of dragging footsteps until Danny shuffles around the corner. He falters when their eyes meet.

"Enjoying yourself?" Danny hisses, quiet enough that only Valerie can hear him. He brushes past her before she can reply, hobbling toward the stairs. As he passes the entrance to the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the frame, grabbing his parents' attention. "I'm going to my room. I'm not hungry."

Jack pokes his head out the door and frowns. "You sure?"

Danny waves over his shoulder, his hand so delicate it gives the impression it can shatter at a moment's notice. A gentle breeze can rattle his bones, Valerie's sure of it.

Jack turns back into the kitchen, catching Valerie's eye along the way. He studies her a moment, his stern demeanour once again contradicting the jovial attitude Valerie knows him for. It feels like a test. If she passes, Valerie can't tell. Jack simply nods at her and ducks completely out of sight.

Knowing when she's been dismissed, Valerie heads up the stairs. She overtakes Danny, who has only made it halfway up, and reaches the landing. Remembering Tucker's instructions, Valerie turns right and seeks out the last door. As promised, her suitcase is already inside, sitting at the foot of the bed.

A loud slap has Valerie looking back before she can close the door. She spies Danny finally at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister, one hand gripping the newel post. Hunching over, he holds his throat and coughs, another painful hack. This time, she doesn't make any move to help him. She closes her door as quietly as possible and turns to her suitcase. Some might think her callous for such a heartless display, but she knows she's the last person Danny wants help from. He's too proud, like her, and would rather suffer in silence than accept assistance from someone he doesn't care for.

Jack, emerging from the basement door with two long extension cords on his arms, answers for Maddie. "It gets pretty boring being stuck in the same spot night after night, don't you think?"

Valerie, who sleeps at night and therefore prefers being in the same room the entire time—because waking up somewhere else would be incredibly disorienting—does not know how to respond to Jack's statement beyond a quiet, "Huh?"

Ignoring her noise of confusion, or simply not hearing it, Jack walks to the bottom of the stairs and calls Danny's name.

"Shouldn't we let him sleep?" Valerie asks. If it were her, and she had a choice in the matter, she would much rather be unconscious when the Shade shows itself.

Maddie glances over her shoulder toward the front door.

Outside, the setting sun paints the clouds in pink and orange hues, cool purple shadows cutting through the streaks of colour. It's a beautiful sight, the sky behind the clouds a gradient of darkening blue, turning gold in the distance. It's the kind of sunset Valerie admires from her hoverboard, flying high over the city. Dusk has always been her favourite time of day, and she takes in the rich, colourful sight with a content smile.

Maddie watches the sky with dread in her eyes. "Danny won't be sleeping now. It will start soon."

Danny's bedroom door groans as it opens. The sound, low and despondent, reminds Valerie of the oppressive aura she endured earlier. Logically, she knows the door's whine is born from poorly oiled hinges, but she can't shake the notion that the house itself is moaning in anguish, grieving for Danny and his haunting.

Danny lingers beyond the doorway, in the shadows of his room, the hall's dim light barely touching his toes. With one hand, he grips the doorframe, his thumb stroking the stop in a gesture Valerie would almost call comforting, a sort of soothing caress. His lips move, barely, but he speaks too quietly to hear.

Valerie watches this and thinks it's the weirdest damn thing she's ever seen.

Danny's hand falls to his side. "My room's fine tonight. I need my computer." He retreats further into his room.

"You heard him," Jack say, smiling over his shoulder.

Jack goes up the stairs first, Maddie right after him, with Valerie trailing behind. When they reach Danny's room, Valerie raises her eyebrows at the setup. His desk is in the middle of the room, a foot of space on every side, while all other furniture is shoved back against the wall. Danny's already sitting down, legs crossed on his chair, a tumbler dotted with condensation sitting beside his keyboard and a bowl of trail mix resting in his lap.

Weirder still, the light is off, and his curtains are drawn, leaving the soft glow of his computer screen to be the only light source. Neither Maddie nor Jack seem to mind this, making no moves toward the light switch on the wall.

"Got everything you need?" Maddie sidles around Danny's desk and sets the box she's holding, identical to the one in Valerie's arms, down on the floor.

"Snack, smoothie, extra water bottle in the drawer. Textbook's are beside my chair. Pillow and blankets under the desk," Danny says.

Squinting, Valerie sees the aforementioned pile of bedding stuffed in front of his chair.

"Bathroom?" Jack asks as he dumps the extension cords on Danny's bed. He starts unravelling them with practiced ease, watching his son for an answer.

"Already went."

"Are you... are you staying there all night?" Valerie asks. The thought of being stuck in that chair all night has her pursing her lips. It reminds her far too much of high school, languishing for hours in cramped desks with hard, plastic chairs. She always hated high school.

Danny gives her a sidelong glance. The longer he stares, the more Valerie fidgets, and she does not fidget, ever. But Danny's eyes, which appeared dull and hollow before, seem to glow now. Not with vitality, but with an eerie, soulless light that disturbs Valerie so much she can't avert her eyes. She's shaking, and sweating, and it takes her far too long to identify this feeling: fear. Danny cuts the least impressive figure Valerie has ever seen in her life, but right now, she's afraid. Afraid that when he she turns her back, he will still be there. Still watching.

"Valerie, dear, you can set that down over here." Maddie's voice, casual, unknowing, compels Valerie to look away. Maddie crouches by the short side of Danny's desk—Valerie didn't notice her move—and taps the floor beside it.

Valerie jolts into action, eager for a distraction, and drops beside Maddie, holding out the black box. Maddie takes it, placing it on the carpet. For a few seconds, she fusses with it, prodding it, pushing it this way and that, until it sits exactly where she wants it.

"You might want to scoot back a little. The other post is already in position."

Valerie puts a good few inches between her and the 'post.' Apparently satisfied with Valerie's position, Maddie reaches out and bops the top of the box. Valerie recoils when the post bursts open. The sides unfurl, falling flat, and the top caves in, exposing a mass of wires and antennas. Something whirs. A spool at the bottom of the device starts spinning, and a slender cable of dotted lights shoots out. It curves around the back of the desk, stretching out of Valerie's line of sight.

Movement to her right gains her attention, and she sees a second cable of lights unwinding around Danny's chair. The new cable hits the post just as the spool stops spinning, locking into a plug at the end of the first cable. Three sharp beeps ring out.

"Looks good!" Maddie claps her hands. "Jack, can you plug it in?"

"Already on it." Jack plugs one end of his extension cord into the post in front of Maddie and Valerie, takes the other end, and rushes out of the room. The extension cord whips after him, snaking off of Danny's bed and out the door.

Valerie eyes the device dubiously. Maddie called it a fence, but it doesn't look very fence-like to her. Looking at it, it's hard to imagine it stopping anything, much less a Shade. But Valerie knows better than to underestimate the Fentons, and she might as well use this opportunity to learn from her ghost hunting heroes.

"What does this do?" she asks.

"Do you know what GZF is?" Maddie asks.

Valerie's heard of it, tried to read a few articles about it, but overall knows very little. "Vaguely."

"It stands for Ghost Zone Frequency. Think of the electromagnetic spectrum, spanning everything from radio waves, to the visible and invisible spectrum, to gamma rays. The Ghost Zone, which exists on a different plane from us, has its own equivalent spectrum we call GZF. It has its own spectrum because, so far, it can't be properly sensed by human instruments or human eyes," Maddie explains.

"But we can see ectoplasm. And we can see ghosts," Valerie points out.

"You see what you want to see," Danny says.

Valerie nearly flinches, and she hates herself for it. She hates Danny for it. It's not fair that he can drag such a visceral reaction from her just by talking. Even less fair is the fact that she doesn't understand why he sets her on edge so much. At least he isn't looking at her now, instead concentrating on his computer screen.

"What does that mean?" Valerie asks.

"It's pretty straight forward. Your brain can't see it, so it fills in the blanks with what it thinks should be there." Danny's eyes flit away from the screen for a moment, glancing over her before going back. "You ever read anything Lovecraft?"

"Maybe in high school."

"Well, he does this thing when he writes—he describes something as indescribable. And our measly little human brains try to understand what that indescribable thing is, but it can't, because it's indescribable to us. Ghost stuff is like that. But, unlike Lovecraft's monsters, ghosts aren't monsters from another dimension; they're the flipside of our reality. Because of that, our brains are able to perceive ghosts without seeing or hearing them. And since they know something is there, they fill in the blanks. Otherwise, we'd all be twitching balls of anxiety that constantly feel like we're missing something glaringly obvious."

Danny twists, draping his arm over the back of his chair, and regards Valerie with a fervent stare. "Got it?"

Valerie refuses to look away this time. "Sort of."

"Good enough for me." As Danny turns back to the computer, he twitches. A glower takes over his face. He rolls his shoulder, as if brushing off an unwanted touch. Ever so subtly, he lifts the hand opposite from Maddie and Valerie, cupping it over his ear.

"Danny?" Valerie reaches toward him.

"Shut up. I'm fine. Shut up!" He hurls his last words at the empty space to his right, bearing his teeth.

Valerie marvels at the open air. She can’t see a trace of the Shade, not even a faint shadow. But Danny’s eyes glide across the room, unmistakably tracking something as it moves around them. The hairs on her arm raise as Danny’s gaze roves over her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have blamed it on a chill in the air.

"Remember, sweetie. Don't respond to it." Maddie's voice is calm and even, as though she's said this line a hundred times before. She probably has.

Danny nods, a sharp, jerky movement, and hunches over. Valerie notices his jaw clenching and his toes curling. Despite how pained he appears, his eyes grow brighter still. Maybe Danny is a lot stronger than he looks. How very Fenton of him, to cast Valerie's expectations aside like that.

Jack's voice, a faint boom, drifts through the open door. "Plugging in!"

The cable lights flare to life. Narrow green beacons curve upward, converging over Danny's head He visibly relaxes, some of the tension bleeding out of him.

Valerie stretches her hand out, watching Maddie for any sign she should stop. When she gets none, she holds her hand over the beacons. The lights remain uninterrupted even though she blocks three of them with her palm.

"How does this stop a Shade?" she asks.

Maddie's eyes widen. "Oh, that's right! I never finished answering your question. Through our research, Jack and I discovered Shades exist in a thirty point range on the GZF spectrum. This is a rudimentary blockade design for small quarters. The cables are identical, one beacon for each of the thirty points in the Shade range. They're aimed straight up, but the identical points are attracted to each other, making them curve like so.

"The completed arcs generate an energy signature that stretches out four feet from the point of convergence, although it gets weaker around the edges. All thirty arcs together create a dense space that makes it hard for Shades to move within this area."

Valerie's brain buzzes as Maddie keeps talking. This is rudimentary? There's nothing rudimentary about it.

"But it needs such a narrow field that we can't make the shield any wider. And it isn't perfect. A strong enough Shade could break through it, but thankfully the one haunting Danny doesn't appear to be one of them," Maddie finishes.

Valerie's mouth drops open, but she can't think of a response, instead staring dumbly at the fence.

"Mom, I think you broke her," Danny says, grinning smugly.

"Oh, not again."

Valerie's mouth snaps shut with a clack. She shoots Danny a withering glare, then turns to Maddie. "I'm fine. It's just a lot to process. Guns are more my expertise."

"Danny could teach you a few things while you're here. He likes to pretend he doesn't care about science, but we all know he does." Maddie winks.

"Space science! It's different from ghost science," Danny declares.

Maddie hides her mouth with her hand and whispers loudly, "He loves both."

Danny grumbles under his breath. "I'll show you loving science."

Valerie rolls her eyes and shares a smile with Maddie, both of them laughing quietly at Danny's expense. He stubbornly ignores them, typing away on his computer, but there's a smile on his pale lips.

Valerie prefers Danny like this, smiling and joking. It reminds her that they were supposed to be classmates. If his accident never happened, if he never got his disease, if he wasn't homeschooled, they might have been friends. She doesn't remember meeting him way back during freshman orientation, but now she wishes she did. Their first interaction might have gone better that way. But it's too late for that now.

She wonders which one is the real Danny. The sardonic punster with a bitter glare. The eerie wraith that chills Valerie to her core. Or the happy boy before her now whose grin lights up his face, momentarily gracing him with the warm glow of life his illness and haunting has stolen from him. Maybe they're all him. Humans aren't so simple that she can reduce a person to a few key words and say that's all they are. Taking everything you see at face value is a habit Valerie abhors.