Chapter Text
Danny had seen a lot of blood in his life, but he sometimes wondered whether he'd seen more of his own than other people's. Up until the previous year, his answer would be easy: other people's blood. Now, though?
Looking down at the ground beneath him, he no longer knew the answer. Red and toxic green spilled out of him and pooled around him on the no-longer-sterile floor of the Fenton's lab. There was way too much of it on the outside of him. If he'd been alive, blood loss would have killed him hours ago. Days ago? He'd lost track of how long he'd been on that table. Fear, pain, and the resulting adrenaline had kept him mercilessly conscious through every cut, stab, sample, and scrape. If he ever wanted to torture himself (or someone else...), then he could write down a chronological list of everything his foster parents had done to him. It would probably be better documentation than the Fentons could produce.
He'd seen their blueprints being used as coasters more than once.
The lab floor might never be the same color again. Ancients knew he'd not be cleaning it up. After what had happened...
He had no idea where he'd go, but anywhere was better than here. No ten-year-old should know what color their spleen is. No ten-year-old should know what their spleen feels like when they stuff it back in their chest.
No ten-year-old should know what anyone's spleen looks like, but he'd seen more than just his. Growing up as an assassin was...
Yeah, he really missed the days when all he had to think about was surviving through the next mission with his sister. He missed her constantly, no matter what he'd told Jazz before she'd left for college. Jazz was great! But she wasn't his big sister. She wasn't even really his sister; she was just the bio kid who really belonged in his foster family.
As much time as she'd spent with him, Jazz had always been too different from him for her to fit into a "sibling" spot in his brain. He'd been something like five years old when he'd woken up in Amity Park's hospital; Jazz had been fourteen. She'd been the one to teach him sign language. Speech lessons were always with her, not the other two Fentons. His name was a gift from her, not anyone else. Jazz had taught him how to be a person.
Jazz was always more like a mom to him than a sister.
Danny really wished she was here right now, but she hadn't been home in a long time. He knew how awful holidays were at the Fenton house. He hated being there during the annual Santa Debate! If he'd been able to stay away from it like Jazz could, he'd do it, too! Jazz didn't deserve to suffer through it; he was happy she could avoid coming home for so long!
... If she'd come home, would she have seen how much he was being hurt? Would she have been able to help him with the ghosts? Would she have been able to change Maddie and Jack's minds?
...
Would she have been there when he died?
...
Would she care?
Danny found himself staring at the door to her room. He didn't remember how he'd gotten there. The hand that wasn't holding his belly shut shook as it reached for the handle. It took him five tries before he got a good grip on it. His own blood and ectoplasm made it hard to hold anything (like his spleen), but he got the door open. Inside her room, the darkness reached out to him like a safety net.
He walked in, ignoring how the sticky feeling on his bare feet changed when they met the fuzzy rug on her floor. If he thought about it, he'd have to think about the footprints he'd left coming up from the lab. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about what the Fentons would do if they found him again.
That shaking hand closed the door behind him without him really thinking about it. Danny gave in to the illusion of safety that Jazz's room always gave him, just for a moment. It was the only comfort he really had now. The Portal had taken every other one away from him, one at a time, until he only had this. Now, this was going to be the last time he'd feel this one.
He tore himself away from that feeling, and it felt like he'd torn something out of his Core.
Pushing past the tears, Danny dug out the roll of duct tape he'd hidden under the bed. It took him more time than usual since bending over to get it made it harder to hold his skin closed. He had to dig around in the boxes of things that Jazz had always said she'd come back to get, although she never did. Finally, he found it hiding under the box she'd labeled 3b, whatever that was supposed to mean. It didn't have much duct tape left on it. He hoped it would be enough to close the three biggest cuts. Maybe he'd be able to find some more in the Realms?
Danny hoped so. He didn't know where else he'd find some, and he'd never been able to sew himself up like he'd heard you were supposed to.
The tape fought him, but he got it to hold the big cut down his belly closed after he'd used his torn shirt to wipe it dry. He didn't have enough for both of the other two cuts, so he tried his best to keep the bottom of the triangle from flapping up. It would have been easier if the cuts weren't so messy.
He shouldn't have fought back so much! Then the lines would be straight!
Danny shook the tears away from his eyes, then looked down at his ruined shirt. Normally, he'd wear it and hope no one noticed the blood. That wouldn't work this time; Maddie had cut it down the front to get at his chest while Jack got out a clean-ish set of scalpels.
How was he going to cover this? It wasn't like he'd be going to school again, so he didn't need to be that good, but he still didn't want to worry anyone if the skin flaps opened up. The other ghosts always got those weird looks on their faces when they saw him all bloody when no one had fought him that day. Whatever those looks meant, he didn't like it. They always went after the other Livings more when they'd looked like that, and he wouldn't be there to protect the people in Amity Park anymore.
His butt hurt when it hit the carpet, but he didn't notice. He was too busy trying not to cry. It hurt! He wasn't going to be able to keep them safe anymore! His Core hurt!
It wasn't like it mattered that much, right? He'd been awful at it. That's what everyone was always saying! He knew they were right, too. So many people got hurt, from both of his peoples, and it felt like he'd only gotten worse and worse as time went by. He'd done everything he could think of, but it was never enough. Phantom was never enough.
So why did it hurt so much to know he had to leave?
...
The pain in his Core wasn't important right now! He had to get out of here, get into the Realms, and get as far away from the Portal as he could. No one would help him, not after he'd messed up and they learned Danny was Phantom. Everyone here would turn him over to the Fentons if he tried to ask for help. No one cared about him here anymore.
...
Had anyone ever cared about him in Amity Park?
If they had, they'd stopped a long time ago. He wished he just had one person he knew cared about him, but-
Danny froze. A wish was a bad thing in Amity Park, but maybe it would help him now. He didn't know how things could get worse, but if he just had one person to help him, maybe he could deal with whatever happened this time.
It was a stupid idea. He knew that. Danny had a lot of stupid ideas. Everyone said that; even Jazz used to say that! But...
This was something he really wished was true. He didn't want to be alone anymore! His Core felt like it was breaking into pieces right now. He was bleeding all over the rug, he'd run out of duct tape, and Maddie had cut up his only shirt. This was all he wanted right now, and it was all he could think of right now, so he'd risk it. Maybe luck would be nice to him for once; who knows?
With trembling hands, Danny dragged the blanket and sheet off of Jazz's bed. She wouldn't mind, right? It wasn't like she'd notice. She hadn't come home for so long now; he didn't think she ever would. If she did, she'd just have to understand that he needed them more than she did. They'd hide his cuts.
The sheet was what he wrapped around his belly. He wrapped it as tight as he could. It wasn't like he needed to breathe, right? He didn't have to worry about blood flow, either! He'd have a hard time making it flow after he changed forms, anyway! The sheet just had to keep him together. When he let the familiar rings pass over him, the sheet stayed. Huh. The bandages didn't usually stick around after he changed. He must be pretty tired. The cuts were still there-- he could feel them-- so maybe the sheet was still there to keep them closed, just like how the duct tape stuck around. That sounded about right.
Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like a cape made him giggle wetly. Heh, he had a cape now! A proper cape to match the Crown of Space that he felt hiding in his Core. Actually, it felt like it was trying to wrap itself around his Core. He felt it calling out to the Ring of Balance to come to help it like it sometimes did, but the Ring was still not coming. Phantom wondered where had gone off to. Sometime between when he'd shoved Pariah back in his box and when he'd been woken up by the Crown poking at its new King, the Ring had run away. No one knew why it did that, except maybe Clockwork, but he'd distracted Phantom with cookies both of the times that he'd gone to the Long Now to ask about it. He'd given up on asking.
The cookies were nice, though.
Holding onto the thought of having those cookies again someday, Phantom flew down out of Jazz's room and back to the Lab. It wasn't any different than it was after he'd messed up and someone got caught. That felt really unfair. It should look different, somehow. The Lab had just changed everything about his life, so shouldn't it have to change?
The Portal was closed, but that wouldn't be true for long. He floated down to the control panel. Making it open had gotten easier after he'd figured out which wires did what. He tore out the right ones now, and the blast doors opened up slowly. The Portal was the same, but that felt like it was a good thing.
If it had been falling apart, he knew things would be much worse than they were now.
Flying through it gave him more energy. It always did; the Portal liked him, and the ectoplasm in the Realms kept him alive. It kept him dead, too, but he didn't mind that much anymore. It might be the reason he was so different, but it gave him so many things he didn't ever want to give up!
It was the reason he'd been cut open. It was the reason he'd survived.
Shaking away those thoughts and the tears that they came with, Phantom flew towards where Desiree's Lair was today. It was nice to be able to find things in the Realms without floating around for days. That was one of his favorite things about being the King. He didn't keep a list or anything, but he knew it was anyway. There were a lot of things that he didn't like, but he would choose to fight Pariah again, even now that he knew what it meant. The other ghosts didn't deserve to have to live with Pariah Dark in charge of them. He might not be the best, but he didn't know who would be better. Until he found someone like that, he'd be the best Ghost King he could be.
Phantom would just have to do better at it than he had at protecting Amity Park.
A bad cough tried to happen, so Phantom was fighting back the ectoplasm and blood in his throat when he flew into Desiree's Lair. She wasn't being mean to him anymore, but they weren't really friends. When he heard the warning ecto-blast shoot by his head, he realized that he'd forgotten to knock.
"Sorry, Desiree!" Phantom croaked. He frowned. Why was his throat so sore? He hadn't Wailed recently, and he didn't think he was sick. Was it-- oh, right. He'd been screaming and crying for a lot of the time that Maddie and Jack had been doing things to him. That was why his voice was sore.
The djinn floated over to meet him. The frown on her face made him flinch. It looked too much like Maddie's had.
"What is it, ghost child?" Desiree grumbled at him, "I was almost done making a cup of the Turkish coffee you brought me beans for last week."
He ducked his head, gulping down another cough when he did. Phantom really hoped she hadn't picked up on that. As soon as he felt like it was safe, he apologized, "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so rude. I'll try to remember to knock next time."
Her frown softened, and she replied, "You are forgiven. Would you like to join me? I am sure I still have some of your favorite tea."
"No thanks. Thank you for the offer, though!" Phantom shook his head, then quickly asked, "Can I ask you for a favor?"
Desiree's eyebrows shot up. Confused, she asked back, "Why would you ask for a favor from me, Phantom?"
"I won't be able to guard the Amity Portal anymore, but I need to make a wish, so I thought maybe you'd be willing to let people know that I won't be there to... to protect them if they..." Phantom answered her, but his voice got thicker and thicker as he did. It hurt, and so did his Core! The hand clutching his blanket tightened when his words ran out.
That look he didn't understand was on her face right now. He double-checked his hold on the blanket, but none of the injuries under it were showing, so why did she look like that? It was a look that the ghosts had been getting more and more often lately.
Phantom really hoped that they didn't go to Amity and attack the Livings there without him around.
A long silence made him wiggle in place. He needed her to say something soon because he was feeling another cough coming on that he didn't think he'd be able to hold back. Just before he felt like he was going to lose it, she slowly replied, "I will let the others know that you will no longer be able to stay near Amity Park."
He smiled at her, wheezing, "Thanks, Desiree!"
That look hadn't left her face yet, but she didn't seem to be leaving, so he asked quietly, "Can I make my wish now?"
"Of course, my King," Desiree replied.
Breathing in as much as his recently broken-open ribcage would let him, despite the fact he didn't need to, Phantom carefully stated, "I wish I could live with at least one person who cared about and loved me."
The way that Desiree flinched back when he made his wish worried him, but he could already feel her power working. There was anger in her voice when she said her words, anger that he really hoped wasn't aimed at him.
"So you have wished it, so shall it be!"