Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bell rings, ending class, and Danny gets up from his seat.

Well.

Attempts to get up from his seat. He wobbles dangerously before falling back down.

“Dude,” Tucker says, putting a hand to his forehead, “I don’t care what you say, you’re definitely not okay.”

“‘M fine,” he slurs, swatting the hand away. “Jus’ a bit dizzy.”

“That’s not normal,” Sam says, standing on his other side. “I think you should go home.”

“Y’know I can’t,” he frowns, head rolling back. He hiccups. “Have that test later.”

“Dude you are in absolutely no state to take it,” Tucker says, grabbing Danny’s elbow. “We’re taking you to the nurse.”

“That’s not exactly the best idea,” Sam frowns, collecting Danny’s books.

Danny shoves ineffectually at Tucker’s hand.

“Then what do you suggest to get him sent home, he needs to see FB, and I don’t want to see what happens to him if we wait too long.”

Sam tilts her head conceding the point, “but I doubt the nurse here can actually do anything for him. I mean, they only send kids home if they have a fever, which he doesn’t.”

“What’ch’a talkin ‘bout?” Danny asks, smiling with the happiest, goofiest grin.

“Taxes,” Tucker says.

“Aw shucks,” he pouts.

“Tucker!” Sam smacks him in the arm.

“What?” he gestures at Danny doing his best Dani impression to slide onto the floor. “He’s clearly not able to think clearly.”

He successfully puddles, slipping out of Tucker’s hand to starfish under the desk.

“Manson, Foley, why are you loitering here, you have another class to get to,” Lancer asks, walking back into the room. He pauses, squinting at them. “Where’s Fenton?”

“Here!” Danny calls cheerfully. He sits up too fast and slams his head into the underside of the desk.

He falls back and hits the linoleum hard enough to bang.

“Great Gatsby , Mister Fenton, are you okay?” Lancer asks, crossing the distance.

Danny giggles, waving somewhat erratically at the teacher. 

He frowns, twisting sideways, squinting at them, “Why are you all upside down?”

“Mister Fenton,” Lancer looks a bit gobsmacked, “Are you drunk?”

“Noooooo,” he slurs, shaking his head. “I dinnit drunk.”

“I am having a hard time believing you,” Lancer says and turns his attention to Sam and Tucker. “I hope one of you has a better explanation before I have you three suspended for underage drinking.”

“The box ghost sneezed on him this morning,” Tucker says, “I think he has a ghost cold.”

 “A ghost cold?” Lancer makes a face, “You know as well as I that ghost’s don’t get sick.”

“No, but humans can,” Sam says, “It could just be affecting him-”

Danny rolls suddenly and bolts out of the room.

“-differe- Danny!”

“Danny stop!” Tucker shouts, and the two scramble to catch him.

“Good grief, this can’t end well,” Lancer says, following.

Sam shoves Danny’s books into Tucker’s arms, “Hold this.”

“Wha-okay?” Tucker stumbles, doing his best not to drop everything.

Sam breaks into a dead sprint, catching up to Danny as he bounds around a corner. 

“Danny!” she shouts, skidding and losing distance, “Stop!”

Danny leaps, twisting with a whoop of laughter and darts around the A-Listers.

Before anyone can react, he lands and then leaps out the window of the third floor.

They rush to the window, looking out.

Danny lays in the grass below, face down and starfishing.

“Holy shit,” Kwan says, breathless, “Fenton just offed himself.”

“Fucking-” Sam swallows the bile in her throat, turning to the stairs and skipping them three at a time.

By the time she gets outside, most of the school is peering out of the windows to watch.

“Danny,” she half screams, skidding to his side on her knees. “Please, Danny, please be okay.”

He makes a noise before groaning and pushing himself up. 

“What hit me?” he asks, holding his head.

“You did, you ass,” she smacks him in the arm before pulling him into a hug. “What is wrong with you?”

“Sam?” he squeaks. “What did I do?”

“You jumped from the third floor you dumbass,” she pulls back to shake him.

“I did what?” he twists to look up and then immediately winces, holding his head.

“Neither of you are to move,” Lancer shouts from the window. “The rest of you, get to class before I start writing up detention slips.”

The students scatter.

“I don’t feel right,” Danny mutters, wobbling where he sits.

“Like you slammed your head twice before faceplanting from 30 feet or-”

“Like my insides are fizzing,” he says. He pushes her away to dry heave into the grass.

“Hey, hey, breathe,” she says, kneeling next to him to rub his back.

The door opens and Lancer storms out, Tucker trailing behind.

“What exactly is going on, Fenton?”

Danny looks up, confused, “Mr. Lancer? What are you doing here?”

“Working,” Lancer says and then stops. He turns back to look up at the open window and then back to Danny. “That’s a big drop, did you hit your head?”

Danny pitches sideways, giggles taking over. “Everything is so fuzzy!”

“Right,” Lancer says, taking a knee beside Danny. “Mister Fenton-”

Danny looks away and reaches for Tucker.

“Daniel,” Lancer tries again.

“Wuh-” he looks up and squints. “You’re so shiny.”

“Daniel, I need you to focus on me, please.” 

Tucker settles next to them and helps Danny to sit up with Sam.

Danny pulls them both close in a hug, “You guys are great I love you so much, have I told you that, I love you guys.”

“Danny, man,” Tucker shifts, ears darkening, “I love you too, but maybe you can look at Mr. Lancer?”

“Don’t wanna,” he pouts, rubbing his cheek against Tucker’s.

“Foley, can you ask him to count backwards from 10?”

Tucker nods, and pulls away. “Hey Danny, can you do me a solid?”

“O’course,” Danny makes a serious expression. “Anything for you.”

“Can you do a countdown?”

Danny tilts, falling more into Sam who turns to hug him from behind to keep him upright.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6… Sam, your hands are so pretty,” he says looking down.

“What comes after 6, Danny,” she asks.

“7.”

Lancer winces, “I think he has a concussion.”

He gets to his feet, “It would be best to get him inside to the nurse’s office.”

Sam and Tucker exchange a look.

“Danny, can you stand up for me?” Tucker asks.

“Sure!” Danny chirps before breaking into hiccups. 

There’s a bit of fumbling and flailing limbs but the trio get to their feet, holding hands. Danny sways between them, swinging their arms.

He pitches forward dangerously.

Sam shifts, grabbing him by the waist and keeping him from hitting his head again.

“New plan,” she says. She gently lowers him to the ground and passes her backpack to Tucker. The latter of which sighs dramatically but takes her things with Danny’s.

She pulls Danny’s face so that he has to look at her.

“You are a feather.”

“I am a feather,” he repeats.

“Light as a feather.”

“Flutter flutter,” he slurs, eyes drifting closed.

Sam shifts, sitting him across her knees before standing with him in her arms.

“Let’s go,” she says.

“Can you carry him the whole way?” Lancer asks, hands out, hovering.

“I will if we start moving,” she says, walking back to the doors.

“Right, yes, let’s not delay then.” He turns to hurry to the doors to hold it open for them.

The walk to the nurse’s office is silent save for the random hiccups from Danny.

“Miss Travers,” Lancer calls, opening the door a bit too forcefully. 

“I’m here,” she answers, rolling into view, “There’s no need to shout.”

“We have a concussed student,” he says, waving Sam forward.

“Good heavens,” she says, getting to her feet. She gestures to an open cot, “Lay him here.”

Sam follows the instructions, settling him into the cot.

Stepping back, she startles when he sits up suddenly.

“I’m late!” he says.

“No, you’re fine,” Sam says, moving to grab his arm. “You’re not late.”

“What are you doing in my room?” he asks, blinking at her. “Wait, this isn’t my room.”

“You’re in the nurse’s office at school,” Tucker says, dumping the books and bags onto the bed next to him.

“How’d I get here?” he asks.

“What do you remember?” Miss Travers asks, pulling out a small pen light.

“I…” he trails off, flinching hard when the light is shone into his eyes.

“What day is it?” she asks, putting the pen light away.

“Tuesday,” he pulls away to rub his head with both hands.

“Danny?” Sam asks, shifting to rub his back.

“You were doing that,” he says, squinting. “Before…right?”

“I was,” she says.

“There was grass, were we outside?”

“Because you jumped from a window.”

“I did what?” he asks, looking up properly.

“Excuse me?” Miss Travers blanches.

“From the third floor no less,” she continues.

“Good heavens,” Miss Travers starts checking him all over, “Is anything broken?”

“‘M fine,” he says, voice shifting. He waves them off with languid movements.

He hiccups.

“Danny, talk to us, what’s going on?” Tucker asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Feel fizzy,” he stops, breaking into giggles. “You guys are great.”

Sam turns and makes a face at Tucker.

Tucker tilts his head, making a face back at her.

“Why did you jump out of the window?” Miss Travers asks.

“You’re not Jazz,” he frowns at her. He looks at Sam and Tucker, eyes getting wet. “Where’s Jazz?”

“Probably in class,” Sam says.

“I need to see her,” he says, pushing everyone away to get off the bed.

“No, no,” Tucker says, moving to lay across him, “How ‘bout we stay in bed? Bed is good and comfy.”

“But Jazz-” Danny half whines, picking Tucker up easily.

“Can come here,” Sam says, jumping onto Tucker, knocking them both back into the bed. Tucker wheezes from the force but doesn’t complain otherwise.

“Yeah,” he says, a touch breathless, glasses askew, “Jazz can come here, where it's comfy.”

“I need-” Danny whines, sitting up despite his friends laying on him.

“Jasmine Fenton,” Lancer says loudly. It’s enough to stop Danny. Lancer is talking into the PA system near the door. “Please come to the nurse’s office. Again, Jasmine Fenton, please come to the nurse’s office. Thank you.”

He hangs up with a click.

“Jazz?” Danny asks.

“On her way,” Lancer smiles. “Why don’t you rest?”

“Okay,” he sniffs. He turns his head to see Sam and Tucker laying on him. “Friends!”

The pair squeak as he shifts so that he can hug them both.

“You’re here! When did you get here?”

“We’ve been here,” Tucker wheezes. “Easy on the squeezing, please.”

“Okay,” Danny relaxes, shoving his face into Tucker’s shoulder.

Miss Travers steps away before joining Lancer by the door.

“Explain,” she says.

“Well I initially thought he was drunk,” he starts.

The door slams open, Jazz barrelling into the room.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Danny?” she demands.

“Jazz!” Danny practically trills in excitement.

Sam and Tucker roll off to let him sit up. 

Jazz rushes over, pulling his face into her hands.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Jazz!” Danny says, nuzzling his way out of her hands to hug her tightly. “You’re here!”

“Danny?”

“He hit his head a few times,” Sam says, “We think he has a concussion but…”

Jazz shifts so that she can meet her eyes over Danny’s head.

“We think he should see FB, just in case,” Tucker elaborates, “Boxy sneezed on him and he’s been out of it since.”

“Mr. Lancer, Miss Travers,” Jazz turns so that she can see them. “I would like to take Danny home. And I would like to take Sam and Tucker as well, I’m concerned about possible contamination if they were also exposed to whatever the Box Ghost had.”

“Ghost’s can’t get sick,” Lancer says.

“As far as we know, the physiology of the ghost species is so unique that it may be possible that they can in fact get sick. Or at the very least carry something that can affect humans in unexpected ways.”

Miss Travers looks at Danny then to Sam and Tucker.

“How long was it from when he was sneezed on to when he started showing symptoms?” 

“A few hours,” Tucker answers. “He didn’t really start showing symptoms till the end of last period and we ran into Boxy before school started.”

“Then it may very well be for the best that you all go,” Miss Travers says. She moves to her desk to start writing a note, “If this is something contagious we may have to quarantine the school.”

“It’s not that serious,” Lancer frowns. “Surely?”

“We don’t know,” she looks up at him, “This is unprecedented. Hopefully it’s a fluke reaction and only coincidental, but I would rather not take my chances. I assume you will be with your parents, the Doctors Fenton?”

“Of course,” Jazz nods, letting Danny act like a koala on her hip. “We have some of the most advanced equipment for ecto-contamination.”

“Then I don’t see why they should stay,” she gets up to pass the paper to Jazz. “On the condition you call me immediately if any of you start showing symptoms.”

“Absolutely,” Jazz agrees, sliding the paper into her pocket. She turns back to Danny, “Alright, little brother, ready to go?”

“Go where?” he asks, blinking sleepily at her.

“We’re gonna see FB,” she says. “Can you stand?”

“Oh!” he breaks into giggles, “Frostbite is the beeeeessssst.”

“Yes, he is, now let’s try standing,” she says.

“To Frostbite!” Danny declares.

The temperature drops with a sudden blast of freezing air.

On the floor a swirling green vortex opens up.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the cot and teens vanish into the vortex which closes with a zipping sound.

“Heart of Darkness,” Lancer says and Miss Travers sits on the floor. “Where did they go?”