Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is only one road into Amity Park these days. Any other routes have long ago been rendered impassible by natural disasters and military barriers alike. Even this last remaining road is difficult terrain for all but the hardiest off-road vehicles: the pavement has cracked and shifted as if once disturbed by an earthquake. 

Most strangers who take a wrong turn onto this road correct their mistake within minutes. For those braver (or more ignorant) souls, there stands a sign on the city’s outskirts.

AMITY PARK
ENTRY IS FORBIDDEN
BY ORDER OF THE UNITED STATES MILITARY

Roughly eight feet beyond the sign, the road intersects with a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire. The gate that crosses the road is held together with a heavy metal padlock. 

It is an early morning in September when an SUV rolls up to the gate. The woman behind the wheel does not seem like the type to drive such a bulky vehicle: she has petite features and a prim style, but has navigated the uneven road without a single flinch. When she reaches the gate, the woman does not hesitate for a second before twisting the wheel sharply to steer the SUV to the left. The vehicle rolls easily through the underbrush that has built up in the space between fence and forest. It travels for almost a mile before coming to another gate. 

This one is not padlocked shut. The woman hops down from her SUV, shoves the gate open, returns to her vehicle, and continues driving. She doesn’t bother to close the gate behind her; someone will be along soon enough to do it for her. 

Another mile back along the fence until she returns to the road. The SUV rolls up on the pavement. The woman fiddles with the radio as she continues driving, until finally landing on a station that isn’t distant with static. 

“We’ve got some mild fog this morning, and we’re predicting cloudy skies this afternoon, folks,” the DJ is saying, “And some ectoplasmic lightning come evening, followed by a night of clear skies. So make sure you head home from work early, because you won’t want to be out in this storm. But for now, why don’t you ease back in your chairs and enjoy the new hit song by Justin Bieber--” 

The forest on either side of the road is beginning to thin, revealing the jagged cityscape of Amity Park. The woman’s mouth quirks at the sight of green fog rolling through the streets. “Welcome home, Jazz,” she tells herself, and the words are almost drowned out by the radio’s crooning.

+

The Fenton Works’ observatory no longer sits on the building’s roof. It lies a block away, half-buried in the rubble of an unfortunate corner store. The neon sign, on the other hand, is at least still attached to the building’s side, but it’s crooked and unlit. It’s a wonder that the building itself has not yet been boarded up, for its windows are clouded with dirt and it looks to have been abandoned for years. 

Although, when the SUV pulls up to the curb, there’s a woman--black, muscular, grim--waiting on the Fenton Works’ front steps. Jazz lets out a sigh at the sight of her, but she parks and takes the key from the ignition. The engine and radio cut off into an uneasy silence. 

When she climbs down from the vehicle, the other woman rises to her feet. “Jazz.”

“Valerie.” 

There is caution in both of their voices. Both are holding their empty hands in clear view, while very aware the other doesn’t really need weapons. Neither of them have come to fight, but a decade of hostility doesn’t just disappear. So Jazz doesn’t step up onto the sidewalk right away, simply stands in the gutter as she asks, “How is he?” 

Valerie shrugs. “Same as always,” she says. 

They regard each other for another drawn-out minute before Valerie finally tips her head towards the front door. “He’s inside,” she says, moving to the edge of the steps as if anticipating Jazz’s need to give her a wide berth. Jazz appreciates the gesture, so she climbs the steps and tries the door handle. It isn’t locked. She hadn’t expected it to be. 

The inside is dim and dusty, with cobwebs strung between untouched furniture. Jazz smells decay and the distinctive lemon-sweet stench of ectoplasm. When she looks closely at the couch, she can still see the faded green stains on the cushions. Memories are brimming up at the edge of her mind; she can hear the strains of laughter from the kitchen, the shouts of excitement from the basement laboratory, the groans of her brother as he returns from another school day, the snarling--

Snarling? 

Jazz looks over her shoulder at Valerie, who gives another nod of permission. She feels a faint stir of resentment at that: since when did she need permission to venture deeper into her own family home? 

Since you left, whispers a voice in her mind that sounds disturbingly like her mother. Since you abandoned your family. 

I went off to school, Jazz wants to protest--but if there’s anything Amity Park has taught her, it’s the uselessness of arguing with ghosts. So she does her best to ignore the guilt, sets her shoulders, and starts up the stairs to the second floor. 

Danny’s room is first on the left. The door is ajar, and she can hear the snarling beyond it. For a moment, she hesitates. But Valerie has remained downstairs so there’s no one to nod permission or encouragement. Jazz reminds herself that she doesn’t need permission anyway, and pushes the door open. 

The room is a disaster. A few years ago, Jazz had the misfortune of visiting the coast during a hurricane, and she is reminded starkly of the damage that storm had inflicted. Clothes, books, and broken action figures have been strewn across the floor. The closet door hangs off its track. Every piece of furniture has been broken, both the bed and the desk sitting slanted on uneven legs while the bookshelf has been reduced to a splintered pile of wood. A nest of blankets has been piled up in the corner of the room, glowing with fresh-spilled ectoplasm.

The source of the snarling is not immediately obvious. Jazz stays in the doorway, studying the disaster zone before her until she finally sees the glowing eyes beneath the mattress. 

“Hey Danny,” she says softly. “It’s me. I’m back.” 

The snarls break off. Jazz crouches down, bringing herself to his level without compromising mobility. She holds out a hand, and hates how it feels like she’s trying to coax a wild dog from the shadows. 

The thing beneath the bed growls softly. 

“It’s me, Danny,” she says again. “Is that how you treat your big sis? I came all the way home just for this?” 

Another growl, but this one is less of a warning and more of a test. Jazz stands (crouches?) her ground. “Come on out, Danny.” 

And slowly, tentatively, he does. 

Once, the thing beneath the bed had been a boy. It still looks like one, sort of. Its hair is the same bleached white that Jazz remembers, but its eyes are bright green and its ears have grown long and sharp. When it bares its teeth, she sees jagged fangs. And its limbs are all disproportionately long, as if a growth spurt hit in all the wrong places. 

But beneath the glowing eyes and bared teeth, Jazz still sees her brother. And so she does not pull away as the creature slinks on all fours across the room. She does not move as it brings its head too close to her face, studying her eyes while tangling long and boney fingers through her hair. 

Jazz tries to smile. She doesn’t quite manage it, but the creature lowers its hand and moves back. Its head cocks to the right, eyes narrowing. A bright red tongue flicks over the edges of its fangs. 

And then a white ring flashes across the creature’s body. When the light fades, the creature has been replaced by a much more familiar teenage boy. He’s got the same black hair, crooked smile, and piercing blue eyes that she remembers. Even his clothes haven’t changed, still the same red-and-white tee and worn-in jeans as the last time she saw him. 

“Hey, Jazz,” he says, his voice still caught in that prepubescent pitch. “About time you showed up.”

Chapter Text

When Jazz and Danny finally make it downstairs, Valerie has gone and returned again. She’s waiting in the kitchen with three takeout coffee cups from the local bakery, along with a box of donuts. There are packets of cream and sugar scattered in the middle of the table, as yet untouched. Jazz is entirely unsurprised to see that Valerie takes her coffee black. 

She tips a single creamer into her own cup, before Danny proceeds to rip open five sugar packets at once. He dumps the contents into his drink before methodically adding each remaining creamer one at a time. This, too, is unsurprising; Danny has always been a sugar-and-energy drink type of kid. 

For a moment, Jazz can almost pretend everything is normal--that the last fifteen years haven’t happened, that she just got home from another day of high school to join her brother and his girlfriend for a late-afternoon snack. But they’ve all changed too much to pretend. Valerie’s hit her thirties, with her once wild curls now in a practical pixie cut, and the sort of muscles any athlete would die for. And Danny--he’s on a whole different level entirely. His human body hasn’t changed at all in fifteen years, so he’s still physically a fourteen-year-old child. But the way he’s sitting in his chair with his hands curled around his coffee? It looks somehow like some alien’s bad attempt at mimicking human behaviour. 

She wonders how long it’s been since he last took his human form. 

“I brought you a gift,” she tells him, reaching into her purse. The box is wrapped in shiny star-covered paper, and Danny’s face lights up at the sight of it. He tears off the paper to reveal a replica model of the Curiousity rover. “This is rad! Wow! Coolest gift ever!” 

Jazz grins. “Happy birthday, little bro.” 

His own smile falters at her words, and Valerie’s eyes narrow. Apparently, Jazz has gone and stepped right into a faux-pas by mentioning his birthday. Once, she would have known which subjects were too sensitive to bring up around her brother. Once-- But now is not the time to dwell on the mistake, so she keeps her voice light and swiftly changes the subject. “I was thinking we could do some stargazing tonight. We could go up on the roof--” 

And just like that, Danny is beaming again. “Yes! Awesome! I have a new telescope I could bring up there, and we could bring hot cocoa and make it a picnic!” More plans begin to spill out of him as his excitement grows. “Oh! We should have lunch at the new Nasty Burger--they’ve got a “double the beef, half the price” promo right now. Is there anything you want to see while you’re in town?” 

“I’m here to see you,” she says, and punches him lightly in the arm. “So whatever you want to show me, I’m in.” 

+

Technically, the new Nasty Burger is the new-new-new-new-new Nasty Burger since Jazz left town. Given the sort of events that take place in Amity Park, she’s a little surprised the fast food establishment is only on its sixth iteration. Even more surprising is how the place looks exactly as she remembers: dingy red booths, scuffed tiled floors, and grouchy customer service. Sure, there’s a black scorch mark across one of the walls, and a neon-green stain splattered across the ceiling--but she feels like she’s stepped right back in time. 

The latest crop of high school students populate most of the tables, but one booth in the back corner has been commandeered by an older man and a whole spread of burgers. Squinting, Jazz asks, “Is that--?”

Danny grins and, in lieu of an answer, cups his hands around his mouth to call, “Yo, Tuck!” 

The man looks up. And sure enough, it’s Tucker Foley in the flesh. The last time Jazz saw her brother’s best friend, he was a gangly teen in the throes of puberty. Now, he’s fully grown into himself--although, she thinks, the beard could use a bit of a trim. 

“Double the beef, half the price!” he exclaims once Danny and Jazz have ordered their own meals and slid into the seat across from him. “You know I had to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” 

Jazz can’t even count all the different meals around him. “I don’t know how you can eat all of this.” 

“Stomach of steel,” says Tucker proudly, while Danny adds, “Full moon coming.” 

“That, too,” Tucker admits. “It makes me so hungry.” And he proceeds to cram another burger into his mouth. 

Danny digs into his own meal with such enthusiasm that Jazz finds herself wondering how long it’s been since he stopped here for a burger. His mannerisms seem more genuinely human now than when they’d been sitting at the kitchen table with Valerie, as he gradually remembers how to act. But it’s still not quite right, like he’s trying too hard to move in a human way. Oh Danny, she thinks, and wonders whether things would have been different for him if she’d remained in Amity Park. 

If he notices her scrutiny, Danny says nothing. Tucker, on the other hand, pointedly looks between the two of them several times with a serious expression. Then, with an obviously forced nonchalance, he says, “Been a while since I’ve seen you around, Danny. How’s everything been?” 

Danny freezes. “Fine,” he says, and his eyes dart to Jazz briefly before his gaze fixes on the table. “I’ve been around.” 

“Phantom’s been around,” Tucker clarified. “Not Fenton.” 

“Same thing.” But Danny’s shoulders are hunched up almost to his ears, and his mouth is beginning to twist into a scowl. He doesn’t notice how Jazz and Tucker lock eyes, nor how she shakes her head as if to say, I get it, no need to push. 

Tucker’s conversational pivot is graceful, if obvious. “And you, Jazz. I really haven’t seen you around. How’s life in the big city?” 

She gratefully latches onto the new topic. “Busy, always so busy. When I’m not teaching, there are papers to grade--and I just got a new research grant, so at this point, I’m practically living at the university--” 

And just like that, Danny’s back to his usual cheerful self. “What’s the research on? Something cool, like psychological manipulation or hypnotherapy or something?” 

“As if I haven’t explained developmental psychology to you at least a hundred times.” But Tucker actually looks interested -- yet another change from his younger self -- and so Jazz begins to explain the sorts of classes she teaches, and the studies she’s run in the past, and the new one she’s just getting off the ground now that funding has come in. 

It’s nice, being back here in this grimy fast food joint. Jazz can almost imagine she’s still in high school, lecturing the boys on the newest psych article she’s read. If she just pretends Tucker’s wearing his red beret, if she ignores her brother’s weirdness … 

“Hey Jazz?” says Danny suddenly, cutting her off mid-explanation. His grin has softened into the sort of tired, nostalgic expression that’s much too old for his fourteen-year-old face. “I missed this.” 

Jazz lays her hand over his. “Me too, bro.” 

+

Danny wants to take Jazz to see the Amity Park Observatory, which has been significantly upgraded since she was last in town. As they amble down the street in the general direction of the observatory, Danny tells her about how he and Valerie recently helped install a reinforced ghost shield to protect the building from future attacks. 

“The old shields would keep out ghosts and energy blasts, but physical objects could pass through just fine. Now, when it’s turned onto its highest setting, it’s just about as strong as a wall. No more flying debris to crush our fine Amity Park institutions!” His brow furrows slightly as he thinks. “So far, it’s working well. We’ll need some more real-world stress tests before we can confirm anything, but then we can install these all over town.” 

“That’s amazing. How long has this shield been up?” 

But to this question, Danny gets cagey. “Oh, maybe a year or two. You should see the exhibits they’ve installed now that they’re less worried the building will be flattened!” And he picks up his pace, as if to leave her question behind entirely. 

Maybe a year or two. The Danny she remembers would have been much more exact when it came to recounting protection measures designed to keep the town safe from ghosts. Jazz wonders what Valerie would say if asked the same question. Has it only been a couple of years, or is this a project that Danny has let slide? Somehow, she can’t imagine the half-feral creature she found beneath his bed being all too concerned about setting up improved ghost shields around town. 

She doesn’t pursue the question, just lets Danny ramble about the new exhibits as they turn onto Main Street. She’s finding it hard to ignore the buildings around them. Unlike the Nasty Burger, which has hardly changed in appearance since she’d left, the town itself is almost unrecognizable. While some buildings have been replaced, most remain the same but with worrying signs of structural damage. Scorch marks stain the old brownstones, store signs are missing letters, and an entire chunk of the library roof appears to have caved in. Even the sidewalk is missing entire chunks of concrete, as if the city council one day just shrugged its shoulders and decided to stop repairing all the damage from ghost attacks. 

The town hall stands ahead, proud despite its lopsided bell-tower. She remembers crowds gathering for press conferences, but the steps and front lawn are mostly empty today. At the corner of the main square stands a black tent, with an ambulance pulled up behind it. The banner hung above the tent’s entrance reads:

AMITY PARK ANNUAL BLOOD DRIVE

There’s not a large turn-out for the event but frankly, Jazz is surprised to see anyone at all. She remembers a drive from the year before she left, and the protest that sprung up outside chanting, “Enough blood spilt!”  

Danny and his friends had all been helping with that drive, and Jazz had been so proud. And what had Sam said? As if losing blood as victims of the ghosts mean you’re no longer required to help your fellow woman.  

It’s like thinking of Sam summons the woman herself. She makes herself known with a loud, wordless shout from the tent’s entrance before racing towards them. “Danny!” she shouts, skidding to a stop on the sidewalk. Belatedly, Sam notices he isn’t alone. “And Jazz! Wow. Since when have you been back in town?” 

“Since this morning,” says Jazz. She takes in Sam’s all-black outfit--large floppy hat, ankle-length cotton dress, gloves and combat boots--carefully designed to protect every inch of her skin from the sun. Nothing much has changed here, she thinks, before lunging forward to envelop Sam in a tight hug. “It’s great to see you again.” 

Sam stiffens, and then gradually relaxes enough to pat Jazz awkwardly on the back. “You, too.” And then, in typical Sam fashion, she adds, “Time to donate. Come on, both of you.” 

“You can’t use my blood,” Danny protests. 

To which Sam simply replies, “Ectoplasm just gives it extra flavouring. Come on, no excuses.” 

And maybe Jazz hasn’t come back to Amity Park to donate blood, but it’s to help an old friend. She gives Danny an I-don’t-mind shrug, and he rolls his eyes with a giving-in grin. And when they’re inside the tent and Jazz is leaning back in the chair, Danny slips his cold hand into hers and she squeezes tight as if she’s never going to let go again.

Chapter Text

After the observatory, when Jazz feels like her head might explode from all the new space facts Danny has crammed in, they stop at the Amity Park Cemetery. It’s a lonely place with too many graves packed between the brick walls, and a single gnarled tree stands watch from the top of the only hill. Wisps of fog still creep between the tombstones even though it’s well into the afternoon, and the overcast sky hangs low and oppressive overhead. 

The gate is unlocked but Danny doesn’t even bother to unlatch it; he just grabs his sister’s hand and phases them both through the metal bars. It’s been so long since he’s made her intangible that Jazz is wracked with shivers afterward, as if all her nerves are running system checks to make sure they’re still there. 

Danny had been leading the way, but now he stops. His expression is empty as he looks out over the graves. Jazz still has hold of his hand, so she tugs him gently until he starts walking again. Together, they wind through the tombstones, occasionally pausing to note familiar names on newer graves, before finally coming to rest at a double plot. 

For a long time, neither of them speak. Silence twists between them like the fog at their ankles. Jazz wishes she’d brought flowers, even though she’s never really put much stock into the idea of leaving offerings at graves. Either the dead are gone far beyond the reach of the mortal plane, or they stick around to pester the living and don’t deserve any sort of gifts. But now--now, she sort of understands, though she wouldn’t be able to put that understanding into words. 

At her side, Danny lets out a long and terrible sigh. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and Jazz doesn’t know if he’s addressing her or the graves. When she looks to him, his eyes are wide and distant and--well, haunted . 

And what could she say? It’s not your fault -- they knew what they were doing -- maybe they’re still out there somewhere -- ? She’s said all these platitudes and more, and they never really mean anything. Their parents are dead, and it was preventable, and it wasn’t prevented. 

“I should have been here,” she tells him--another of those rote lines she’s said a hundred times before. Danny doesn’t even bother with any of his usual replies, just releases her hand and moves forward. He crouches down and presses his hand to the tombstone, fingers running over the names of their parents.

At last, he says in a voice riddled with guilt, “It’s been too long since I’ve come.” 

“Longer for me.” She lays a hand on her brother’s shoulder and closes her eyes and allows herself to feel the ache of loss. 

This is how she and Danny remain, as the air grows colder and the clouds grow heavier. A breeze begins to stir the fog away from their feet, rustling the leaves of the tree on the hill. Jazz recalls the weather warnings from the radio-- ectoplasmic lightning come evening, you won’t want to be out-- and says, “We should go home.” 

Danny looks up at her, his expression still bleak. “One day, you’ll be here too,” he tells her. “Or another graveyard, somewhere. And it’ll just be me, lingering. Alone.” 

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have Valerie, and Sam and Tucker--” 

“They’ll die, too. Everyone dies.” His laugh is harsh and bitter. “Even I’ve died. I just… won’t ever move on. I can’t move on, I can’t move at all. I’m stuck, Jazz.” 

“Danny--” 

“I’ll always be stuck here, like this.” 

She feels the tears brimming in her eyes at his hopelessness. Crouching down, Jazz wraps her brother in a tight hug. “Maybe not,” she whispers. “You don’t know. Things could change.” 

“Or not.” 

“You don’t know that. Don’t give up hope, Danny.” She pulls back, tears now shining on her cheeks as she looks her brother in the eye. “Besides, I’m not planning to die for a very long time.” 

“But you will be leaving.”

But she will be leaving. Jazz cannot argue that. She has a life outside this town, one that she’s worked hard to build. She’s an established professor, a respected researcher. She may have left that life for a couple of days to visit her brother but she will be going back. And he won’t be able to come with her, no matter how much she wants to take her brother away from this crumbling, dying town. Even if she could convince Danny Fenton to join her, Danny Phantom will never leave. He wouldn’t be able to; the military’s specialized ecto-containment fields around the town make sure of that. 

So she does not argue, just hugs him again. “I love you, little bro,” she says, and hopes that those words are enough.

Knows that they aren’t. 

+

Valerie’s waiting for them at the road, leaning against the side of Jazz’s SUV. “Storm’s coming,” she calls as Danny phases them back through the gate. “Thought I should come get you, make sure you weren’t stuck out here when it hits.” 

As Danny phases through the side of the vehicle into the back seat, Valerie tosses Jazz her keys. Jazz snatches them out of the air and looks at them in dismay. Until now, she would have sworn the keys were still in the purse she’s been wearing over her shoulder. 

Valerie is unrepentant. “What? You two were walking all over town. I thought you might want a ride later -- and I was right.” 

“We would have been fine walking home,” Jazz retorts, before climbing up into the driver’s seat. 

Apparently, it wasn’t just the cemetery’s aesthetic that made the sky seem so heavy. The thick, grey clouds hang low over the entirety of Amity Park, already obscuring the tops of the tallest office towers and apartment complexes. The people of Amity Park have listened to the warnings: the streets have emptied entirely, making the place feel like a ghost town in an entirely new way. Even the Blood Drive has shut down for the day, the big tent in the process of being dismantled by Sam and two remaining nurses. 

“Do you get storms like this often?” Jazz asks. She glances in the rearview, but Danny’s slouched too low in his seat for her to get a good look at him. 

Valerie’s the one who answers. “They’re getting more frequent. It’s the government’s containment fields that are causing it. The ecto-energy is caught in the dome around our town, and it builds up until we get this.” She waves a hand at the sky above. 

“Builds up?” 

“Like a static charge,” says Danny from the backseat. “Kind of.” 

“We think the lightning is how all that built-up energy releases itself.” Valerie shrugs, as if the science itself is of no real concern to her. “It could be worse. The town’s rigged up lightning rods that can capture and convert the energy to something useful. Our power grid’s going to get a nice boost tonight.” 

“The storm won’t last long,” Danny adds, perhaps noting the tension in Jazz’s shoulders or her tightening grip on the steering wheel. “And once it’s over, the clouds will clear up fast.” To Valerie, he says, “We’re going to go stargazing up on the roof when it’s dark.” 

Valerie doesn’t point out that she was there when Jazz suggested the activity, just tells him, “That’ll be fun.” 

“Right? I can use my new telescope--” 

The two of them are so unbothered by the weather that Jazz begins to relax. The one ectoplasmic lightning storm she experienced before moving away had been a terror, but Amity Park has clearly put measures in place to reduce the damage from the lightning strikes. She lets her grip loosen, wondering if she needs to ask Valerie about plans for supper--

The lightning misses the front of the SUV by inches. 

Jazz screams, wrenching the wheel to avoid a green bolt that has already vanished. One wheel bumps up onto the sidewalk before she hits the brake, throwing everyone hard against their seatbelts. 

“Fuck,” says Valerie, as calmly as if she were reacting to something only mildly interesting. “Guess it’s starting.” 

Jazz is blinking wildly, trying to get rid of the lightning’s red after-images that have been temporarily seared across her vision. “That almost hit us!” she gasps. “I thought there were lightning rods in town!” 

Defensively, Danny says, “They don’t catch everything.” 

“Besides,” says Valerie, “Your truck would have acted as a faraday cage. We’d have been fine.” 

Jazz pointedly looks towards the road where a spider-web of cracks branch out from a small, smoking pit. She can only imagine what her SUV would look like now if that bolt had hit the vehicle instead. 

But like so many other uncomfortable realizations she’s had since arriving back in Amity Park, Jazz shoves this to the side to think about later. She can hear the crackle of energy striking the buildings on either side of the street, and the punctuation of heavy booming thunder. Even if Valerie and Danny both feel safe in the SUV, Jazz decides she would much rather be indoors right about now. So she takes a breath, hits the turn signal, and checks the road for oncoming traffic. 

There is none, of course, because all sane Amity Park residents have already fled the streets. But it’s a good thing Jazz pauses to check because that’s the moment a particularly bright streak of lightning hits the building directly across the the street from them. It strikes at exactly the perfect angle to sheer off a whole section of the second-story wall, which tips over and crumbles across the road. Bricks strike the SUV, one shattering the windshield and narrowly avoiding Valerie’s head; if Jazz had already pulled out onto the road, the damage to her vehicle would only have been worse. 

Still, the fact that this is the second near-death experience in less than two minutes is incredibly unpleasant. Jazz adds a tally to the Things She Doesn’t Miss About Amity Park mental scoreboard. 

The lightning has apparently done more to the building than removing a chunk of its wall: black smoke is already pouring from the opening. By the time Jazz has even fully comprehended that the interior must have been set on fire, her two passengers have already exited the vehicle. There’s a flash of red as Valerie’s ecto-powered armour unfolds to encase her entire body. Meanwhile, Danny’s already surrounded by the white rings that herald his own change. 

“Wait!” Jazz shouts, struggling to unlatch her seatbelt. “Danny, don’t--” 

But it’s too late. Her brother’s human form is gone. It’s the frightening, long-limbed, alien creature that leaps into the air towards the smoking hole in the building, with the Red Huntress riding her hoverboard at its heels. 

There’s nothing Jazz can do but remain in her SUV, watching the building anxiously as the flames grow higher and the lightning continues to flash vibrant green stripes against the sky.

Chapter Text

Fenton Works feels just as eerily quiet when Jazz finally returns home for the second time that day. The ectoplasmic lightning storm has ceased and the clouds dissipated just as forecasted. It had been a dry storm, not a raindrop to be seen, and now the sun hangs low but bright as Amity Park residents begin to emerge from their shelters. 

Jazz does not feel their relief. She’s accompanied inside by Valerie once again, who now stinks strongly of smoke and sweat. Danny did not return home with them. After helping Valerie evacuate everyone from the burning building, he’d returned inside on his own to put out the flames with a blast of ice. And then, almost as soon as the icicles had hardened, he’d climbed spider-like up to the roof, paused to sniff at the air like a wolf scenting prey, and then he was gone. 

“It’s always the same,” says Valerie now. “Once he’s transformed, he can’t just do one thing. It’s like his blood is up or he’s high on adrenaline or something. He’ll fly around, find some ghosts to punch, and come back when he’s tired himself out.” 

“And how long will that take?” 

Valerie shrugs, sinking into the corner of the couch with the sort of ease that comes from long familiarity. It’s the one spot in the entire living room that isn’t covered in dust and cobwebs. “Depends what ghosts he finds. If he’s not back in a couple of hours, I’ll go hunt him down and kick his ass.” 

Jazz wonders how many times Valerie has returned here from a single ghost encounter to wait on the couch for Danny’s return. It’s not like there’s been anyone else here for him. Sure, he’s got Tucker and Sam as well, but they evidently have their own lives and their own problems now. And if conversations today are anything to judge by, its the inhuman Danny Phantom that they see most often. 

So she takes a seat on the other end of the couch (after checking for spiders), looks down at her folded hands, and says, “Thank you, Valerie. For being here and watching over Danny when I… wasn’t.” 

Valerie draws in a deep breath. “For not killing him, you mean?” 

“Well. Yes, that too. I’m still surprised you haven’t done it.” 

“Same,” says Valerie with a smile in her voice before she grows serious. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Jazz peers up at her, but now Valerie is the one looking away. “Sure?”

“Why haven’t you ever come back before now?” 

The question hits like a brick to the chest, for all that Jazz has been bracing for it all day long. Her breath catches in her throat and her mind briefly goes blank from panic and guilt. Hadn’t she prepared an excuse beforehand, something glib that would roll off the tongue and discourage any follow-up? The only person she’d been prepared to explain herself to was Danny, but he’s not here. And besides, it feels like she owes Valerie some truth for looking after Danny when Jazz abandoned him. 

But she’s taking too long to answer. Valerie stands abruptly, brushing her hands off on her jeans. “Nevermind, that’s personal, between you and Danny. Not my business.” 

“No,” says Jazz. “Sit down.” She unfolds her hands, lays them flat against her thighs. Waits for Valerie to resume her seat before beginning, haltingly, “I never meant to be gone forever. I just wanted to go to school. Be around ordinary people. Forget about ghosts for once in my life.” She steals a glance at Valerie, who is listening without any sign of judgement on her face. “Even before the portal opened, my parents were obsessed with ghosts. I hated it. I couldn’t get away from it. And even when ghosts turned out to be real--even when my own brother turned out to be one--I just needed a break. It was just supposed to be a four year program, and then I’d come back.” 

She can still remember the last days in this house, the stack of boxes piled by the front door. Her parents had been so proud, and Danny had been so quiet. But whenever she asked if he was okay with her leaving, he’d say something like, Finally, my older sister won’t be helicopter-parenting me! I’ll be able to like, stay up late and go to parties.

You stay up every single night to fight ghosts, she’d point out, and no one invites you to parties. 

That could change, he’d tell her, You’ll see. Things’ll be different when you come back.

“I loved school,” she continues, and her statement is rewarded with a snort of amusement from Valerie. “I know, big surprise. But I really did. And there was an opportunity to go right into a Master’s program when I finished my first degree. I’d gotten scholarships and recommendations and everything. How could I say no? I couldn’t say no.” 

“But you didn’t even come home for the breaks?” 

Jazz sighs. “The longer I stayed away, the easier it was to stay away. I was always so afraid that if I went back home, I’d get stuck there again. Maybe something would happen with the ghosts, and the city would be transported to the Ghost Zone. Or maybe I just wouldn’t be able to part with my family again.” She curls her hands into fists, letting her fingernails press crescents into her palms. “So I got my Master’s, and then I got my Ph.D. while I was at it. And by then, I’d built up a whole life for myself and I’d been gone for so very long. I always meant to come back. I just… I never did.” 

“Until now.” 

She shrugs. “I had to sometime.” 

“I guess it didn’t help that the government cordoned off Amity Park entirely for a few years.” Valerie hesitates, before adding, “And your parents--” 

“My parents died right in the middle of that period, yes. The only time I really would have come back, school and ghost-free life be damned. But there was no way through.” 

“Danny missed you,” says Valerie, as if that sentiment is meant to be helpful. 

“I know. I missed him, too.” 

“If you could do it again,” Valerie asks, “would you come back sooner?” 

It’s meant to be a simple answer, but Jazz hesitates. She loves her brother, she’s missed her brother, just as she loved and misses her parents. A part of her is scared of what her brother has become and wonders whether she could have prevented it. But her life since leaving Amity Park has been rich and fulfilling, and she doesn’t know if she could give that up. She doesn’t know. 

So she shrugs wordlessly and mumbles, “I’m a terrible sister,” and Valerie says, “At least you’re here now.” 

And the question hangs unspoken in the room between them: Here now, but for how long?

+

By the time Danny returns, the sun has set and the sky is lit with stars. Jazz is waiting for him on the roof. She’s spread an old blanket over the shingles and prepared two (normal, non-ghost-equipment) thermoses of hot cocoa. She’s been sitting up here for a while on her own, gazing out over the city and remembering her childhood. 

She sees Danny when he’s still several blocks away, after he drops from the sky to perch on a weathervane. From this distance, there’s nothing human about him at all. His posture reminds her somewhat of Wulf, and she wonders whether that ghost had started out as a human too. She watches as Danny--no, he’s entirely Phantom now--as Phantom studies the street below, his head jerking strangely like a predator deciding between its prey. And then, just like any other predator, he pounces from the weathervane and disappears from her sight. 

She can only hope it was a ghost he was after. 

Several minutes pass before she spots him again, leaping up onto another roof before scanning his surroundings once more. But he does not jump down into the streets again, just hops lazily across the rooftops until at last, he lands with a loud clacking of claws-on-wood beside her. His throat rumbles with a growl--or perhaps a purr--before he curls up like a dog on the blanket. 

Jazz sits frozen in place, caught by a sudden fear that if she makes the wrong move, Phantom will pounce on her next. But that most welcome ring of white light expands around his center, flares bright, and drops away. 

“You took your time,” she tells him, and somehow manages to keep the tremble from her voice.

Danny sleepily rolls onto his back and folds his arms behind his head. “I was busy,” he says, “That storm caused a lot of problems.” 

“More fires?” 

“And other damage. One of the lightning rods fell over and made a huge mess.” His forehead creases in a frown. “All those rods probably need maintenance. I should check them out, maybe see if we need more.” 

“I’m proud of you.” 

And just like that, the frown eases away. “Proud of you too, Jazz. Not everyone can say they have a fancy Ph.D. researcher psychologist sister.” 

“That’s what it says on my business cards.” 

“You have business cards!?” Danny sits up in excitement, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. “Wow. Maybe I should get some. Picture this--” He waves his hand out dramatically. “’Danny Phantom: Teenage Superhero!’” 

“‘Fifteen plus years of experience,” Jazz adds. 

“‘Saving your butts since 2004!” 

Jazz snorts an incredibly undistinguished laugh and, satisfied, Danny lays down again. “Fifteen years,” he says musingly. “That long, huh?” 

“Seventeen, to be exact.” 

“Damn. Time flies, huh.” 

And there it is, the opening she’s been waiting for. The apology hangs on her lips, the same one she gave Valerie only hours before. The sorry I left speech. The please forgive me speech. But before she can start, Danny asks, “Why’d you come back?” 

Just like with Valerie, it’s a question that robs her of thought. Unlike Valerie’s, this is a question Jazz hasn’t been expecting. She had thought Danny would want to know why she stayed away for so long, why she never bothered to visit, why even her calls dried up over the years.

Why’d you come back?  

And maybe the reason this question shocks her more than anything else he could have asked is because it’s the only one with an easy answer. Why did she leave? She’d given Valerie only one of a hundred reasons. Why did she stay away? Even Jazz doesn’t entirely know that one. But why did she come back? 

“I’m getting married.” 

“Oh.” 

Whatever her brother has been expecting, it wasn’t that. He sits with this for a while, turning the idea around in his mind, chewing absently at his lip in the way he always has when he’s particularly stumped on a problem. “Is she nice?” 

“She is.” 

“Do you--do you want me there? At the wedding? Because you know I can’t--there’s the fencing around town--the ecto-containment barrier, I can’t cross it--” 

“I know. I did consider asking if we could have it here.” 

“Oh please don’t,” Danny says emphatically. “I love you, sis, and I wish with all my heart I could be there. But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not have your wedding in Amity Park. Weddings are like catnip to ghosts. It would be a disaster, you’d scare half your guests to death, and then I’d have even more ghosts to round up. No one would be happy. Go off and have your wedding someplace actually romantic, like a beach or a mountain or something.” 

“We were thinking the mountains, actually.” 

“Perfect. Take lots of pictures. Also video. Maybe I could record an embarrassing speech that you could play during your reception! Or would that be weird, that you have a fourteen-year-old younger brother?” He hesitates. “Does she even know about ghosts?” 

Feeling more at ease than she has this entire day, Jazz finally lays back on the blanket beside her brother. The stars wink at her. “She knows some. I couldn’t marry someone who didn’t know. It would become this whole awful secret.” 

“Yuck,” says Danny. “Well done, sis. What’s her name?” 

She pauses, feeling the smile that rises unbidden at the thought of her fiance. “Joan.” 

“Joan. Jazz and Joan.” Again, Danny goes quiet in contemplation before deciding, “That’s so sweet it hurts. Speaking of, did you bring the cocoa?” 

Jazz sits up again and pours out two cups. Danny rises to take his, and lovingly bumps his shoulder against hers. “Good for you, Jazz. I’m happy for you.” He takes a sip, squints up at the stars, and says carefully, “You’ll have to bring her with you next time you visit.” 

“I was thinking next spring, maybe. If you’d like. We could come a few months before the wedding.” 

“Get my approval. I like it.” 

“I was thinking more of a final ghost test. If she can’t handle this town, I don’t know that we’d last.” 

“You always have had high standards.” 

Jazz leans over to lay her head upon her brother’s shoulder. She can feel the chill of his skin through the cotton, even colder than the autumn night. But she also feels the rhythmic pulse of his heart, still beating strong despite everything that’s happened to it. “I love you,” she tells him, and Danny groans in that teenage way that means he’s secretly pleased. Then he lifts his hand to point out one of the constellations. 

Later, he’ll phase down into the house to dig out his new telescope. They’ll study the stars and finish the hot cocoa and tell stories from their childhoods that make them both laugh until they cry. The night will get late, and they’ll lay down on the blanket again. Jazz will fall asleep with her head on her brother’s shoulder, and her dreams will be peaceful. 

+

There is only one road out of Amity Park these days. It’s crowded among the trees, its pavement cracked until it is almost impassible itself, and most of those who want to leave town are already long gone. 

The sun is just beginning to rise when the SUV finds its way back to the barrier fence. The radio is again playing the latest pop hits, and the gate one mile from the road is still unlocked when Jazz reaches it. Someone has pulled it closed, though, in the days since she last passed through. She has to dismount the vehicle to pull the gate open again before returning to the driver’s seat. After she drives through, Jazz doesn’t bother to stop and close the gate behind her. 

She’ll be back soon enough.