Chapter Text
Danny woke up cold. It was so cold here; he hasn’t been able to stop shaking in the days—weeks?—since he first ended up here. He clung to his suit and balled himself up, his eyes wrenched shut so he wouldn’t have to look at the nauseating green surrounding him.
It was dark, too. Dark and so, so, so cold—a few days ago, he thought, ah, this is what space would feel like, huh? But that made his heart ache because he had looked at the stars so many nights, and there were no stars here; it was just agonizingly dark and creepy. Fear trilled up his back every time he heard a noise, something like a roar or a scream far away, violent and so distinctly inhuman.
He hoped Sam and Tucker were okay; knowing her sense of adventure, Sam probably could’ve convinced Tucker to jump in after him. Oh, he hoped they hadn’t done that.
He barely knows what happened anyway. They had just wanted to explore the portal; Sam convinced him it would be fine since the thing didn’t work regardless. He remembers leaning on the wall for a moment, listening to Tucker talk about the scientific possibilities and how intriguing it all was. Then everything was over in an instant; he was suddenly in immeasurable pain, like he was being electrocuted or torn apart from the inside out. He remembers screaming so loud, so loud that it might have been Sam and Tucker yelling, too, their voices mixed together.
And he was cold.
And then he was gone.
And then he was here.
He clenched his jaw tightly. He was still hurting down to his bones, but this was less of a physical hurt and more of an aching, longing feeling wedged deep in his chest like a knife. He wanted home, the stars, his friends, and his family. He wanted it all back—his life.
This place was devoid of life in every aspect of itself—silent, cold, sterile, suffocating, empty, dry, rotten, itching, putrid, grim. More than once, he tried to imagine he was back home, in Amity Park, with sun and fresh air, food, animals, music, books, decorations, comfortable sofas, rain, coffee, and art. In these imaginations, though, he failed at one thing—there were never any people. It was a glimpse at a world like his home, but he was viewing it alone.
He wanted to escape this place so badly, but he couldn’t. No matter what he did, he always ended up back here, stuck here. He was too aware that he was alone in this place, keyed into his senses to keep himself safe from the things he heard and saw.
He flinched when he heard more screams and groans in the distance. He looked around, his eyes burning as he did, white hair swishing in his view as he searched for what was out there. He had seen many things in the sea—or sky?—over time, and he had been terrified, but it seemed none of them took an interest in him. Maybe the fact that he stayed perfectly still helped, but he was glad they ignored him because– because what the hell were they? Even the ones that appeared more humanoid were strange, threatening, and creepy.
This time, there was nothing around; the sounds were loud but far away. He only saw what was usually there: the deep, deep sickening green atmosphere, the random collection of doors—he had already made the mistake of trying to enter a few—and the way everything was moving, all the time, swaying, or spinning, or squirming.
Was any of this even real? He closed his eyes again before the sight made him want to throw up, and he raised his shoulders, still shivering. Always shivering. And he thought again, just let me go home. I want to go home. Let me have my life again.
He tried to think back and remember the faces of his friends and family. He tried to remember the streets of Amity Park, and the hallways of his house, the posters in his room. He missed it all so much. He doesn’t know how long he’s been away from home, how long he’s been cold–he just wants to see them again, to be home, to be safe. He was so scared and alone and hopeless. He just— he wanted to be himself again.
Something, then, was hot and bright. He flinched away from it, but it passed over him like a blanket, a white light shining in his eyes. And it was warm—everything around him was cold, and he shivered from the contrast, but– he was warm again. He felt his heartbeat, and he took a breath, which he was suddenly afraid that he hadn’t been doing before.
He looked around, tears blurring his vision, and he saw black hair sway in front of his eyes as he looked around, and he looked at his hands, his fingertips slightly blue, but he was wearing his usual clothes again, not the hazmat suit he had put on to go into the portal.
He was back— back to himself somehow. He was so– elated to be in his own skin again and completely anguished that he didn’t know what he was before. He was something else, he was different—he hadn’t been breathing, he hadn’t felt his heartbeat, and he didn’t know what that meant.
He wanted to cry. He was so cold and scared, and the portal did something to him. What was he supposed to do? God, what happened? If only they hadn't wandered down into the lab out of boredom—they were so stupid for doing that, weren’t they? And if he hadn’t shown his friends the ridiculous hazmat suit, he wouldn’t have put it on and gone into the portal, the portal that changed him. The portal that rewrote his DNA . The portal that—
The portal—
The portal that he frantically noticed was ahead of him. Green swam inside of it, and that green felt so inviting and familiar, almost mesmerizing. A tear flaked away from his eye, and he grabbed the thing nearest to him, a door, and pulled himself, floating through the atmosphere. He didn’t take his eyes off the octagonal frame and swirling vortex, afraid it might disappear or change if he did.
His chest pounding in anticipation, reaching forward, Danny threw himself into it. And it felt warm, so warm, soft, and calming.
And then he was tumbling forward across a solid, sterile floor until he crashed on his face, and he heard a clanging echo behind him. With the wind knocked out of him, he turned on his side and looked back; the portal, just the same as it was, closed. And Danny huffed, tears dripping down his face as he stared at it; then he looked around the lab, the empty lab.
“Sam? Tucker?” He climbed up to his feet, stumbled to the stairs, and took them two at a time, racing to find everyone— god, where were they?
“Mom?” he shouted at the top of the stairs and out of breath. “Dad! Jazz?” He looked around, going upstairs and not hesitating to open Jazz’s door, only to find her room empty.
He huffed, breathing heavily, and glanced at her alarm clock. 11:46 am. He sighs, but then he notices a piece of paper folded on the edge of her bed. When he steps forward and opens it, his heart stops—he’s looking at a missing poster of himself. The photo was his most recent school portrait, and the bottom was inscribed with the date he was last scene, February 17, and he had no idea how long ago that could be. Except–
Except Jazz had always nagged him about keeping up with the calendar because, in comparison, she always stuck to the routine. He turned and looked at her neat planner, and it felt like his heart had stopped all over again. March second. March—second. It’s been two weeks? Two weeks—did he really spend two weeks in that place? Trapped and freezing and afraid?
He dropped the missing poster and stumbled downstairs, tripping over the last few steps, but he didn’t fall. He took a deep, shaking breath and headed to the front door, stepping into the sunlight and wincing at the brightness. It was hot, too hot. As he walked, teary-eyed, he looked down at his hands, his fingertips still purple and blackened.
He turned down the sidewalk, looked up, blocking the sun with his cold, cold hand, and headed to Caspar High. He knew that’s where Jazz would be, Sam and Tucker too, and Axion Labs was too far to walk to find his parents, so he hurried. He needed to find them, to find someone.
Danny doesn’t remember throwing up, he doesn’t remember passing out, but he found himself waking up in a hallway at Caspar High, Lancer, Tetslaff, and Jazz all around him. Tetslaff was on the phone and talking fast, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying; Lancer was trying to wipe off his face with some paper towels, looking worried, panicked, and calm, all at once; and Jazz—Jazz had him pulled into her lap and held his head against her and whispering, and—was she crying? He looked up to see, and yeah, she was.
Danny wasn’t close with his sister; in most instances, he wouldn’t even say that he liked her, but now, right now— His throat closed up tight, and his tears welled in his eyes, and he didn’t care. He reached out and clumsily grabbed her arm, trying to duck his head away from the light, and she wrapped her arms around him tighter, sniffling. Danny’s lip wobbled, trying not to cry, but he sounded choked up anyway, whining. This was safe, this was home, this was familiar, and he hurt, he ached.
Jazz held him so tightly as he wailed, crying his heart out because, shit, he was finally back. He was back home, and that hurt. He was finally, finally safe again; he didn’t have to wait anymore, trembling in fear, torn away from everything that was his. Jazz held him and rubbed his back and spoke to him, and she was shaking too.
He was so filled with relief that he couldn’t move; he was home. He repeated it to himself, over and over, clinging to his sister to ground himself. He’s home, he’s home, he’s home. His chest ached with the reprieve from the fear, with the comfort of this inseparable warmth. He clung to her and cried and sat there and breathed.
After several minutes, an ambulance arrived and scooped Danny up; Jazz refused to let go of his hand and rode with him to the hospital. The paramedics checked over his body and asked him questions, and he answered as many of them as he could, even though their voices were hazy and he could hardly focus.
When they arrived at the hospital, he got tags wrapped around his wrist, IVs in his arm, and lots of people asked him questions, but he just laid still and let the tears run down his face, Jazz rubbing her thumb over his hand and he squeezed her hand back. He was anxious and didn’t know what to say, and his voice was dry and weak when he tried to speak, but at least he wasn’t there , and at least he wasn’t terrified.
Then his parents rushed in, his eyes went wide, and he reached for them, and both of them wrapped him in a hug at once. He’s pretty sure his mom was crying, and she kissed his head and looked at him, saying she loved him. His dad looked at him, gently holding the side of his face with a soft expression. He was the first to smile, gripping his shoulder, his voice dripping with contentment and comfort as he said, look at that, you’re home, son. Each of them smiled at that, and through his smile, Danny cried again, and they all smothered him with hugs.
Later, the police came in and asked him several things that he didn’t know how to answer correctly. They asked if he knew where he had been: he didn’t know. They asked how he got away: he didn’t know. They asked if he had eaten—and did he? He didn’t think so; it’s not like there were plates of Nasty Burger floating around, but he hadn’t starved, so: he didn’t know. His mom made a strangled sound when he said that. They asked if he saw anyone’s face, but there weren’t really faces to see, or people for that matter, so he said: no. He knew nothing, nothing the police could follow and investigate—he wasn’t kidnapped after all. But that is what everyone thought, wasn’t it? It sure looked like it.
The police left after they finished their questions, and then his dad went out to get food for everyone.
When the room was left quiet, Jazz started talking about how worried they had all been—she’s said that a lot in the past few hours—and mentioned that she would bring anything he wanted when she came back tomorrow. She tried to get him to respond and interact, but he didn’t, he couldn’t think of what to say, and he just couldn’t get out of his own head. Eventually, she started talking to their mom quietly.
Danny stared at his lap, lightly tugging on the yellow plastic band that said FALL RISK, his mom rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. When their conversation lulled, he cleared his throat and wanted to grab his paper cup to take a drink, but he knew he had already emptied it, and his mouth was so, so dry. He cleared his throat again and pushed through his raw and cracking voice, “Where’s— Where are Sam and Tucker?” He mumbled.
His mom paused for a moment, glanced at Jazz, and looked back at Danny sadly. “They probably went home by now. I can call them if you want,” she offered quietly.
Danny nodded and again cleared his throat. He saw Jazz grab his cup and walk over to the sink; he was grateful for that. “I want– I want to see them.” God, he hated how his voice cracked, but he really, really needed to talk to them.
As Jazz returned, he held out his shaky hand, his fingers now bandaged, and grabbed hold of the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a greedy sip.
“Okay,” Maddie said and rubbed his shoulder again. “I’ll call and tell them— tell them that you’re back.” Her voice shook as she said this, and then she leaned over, kissing the top of his head and holding him close, breathing into his hair, “Oh, Danny. You’re back .”
Danny’s hand twitched as he set his cup back on the table and dropped his hand it to his lap, his movements clumsy and stiff. He looked at his mom, frowning at her expression and trying to smile, but he probably just looked pitiful.
He took a deep breath, knowing it would take them all some time to move on and forget all of this mess. He just wanted to go home and lay in his bed. He wouldn’t go down to the basement again. He would just— he would rest. He needed rest.
Then, his dad came through the door, triumphantly announcing, “I got the food; who’s hungry?” And Danny’s stomach ached as the smell of Nasty Burger filled the room. At the sound of his stomach grumbling, Jack smiled and reached into one of the bags, pulling out a wrapped burger to set in front of Danny, followed by a fry cup. “Eat up, son,” Jack said, patting his shoulder, “I got extra in case you’re still hungry.” Then he gave his wife and daughter burgers and fries before getting his own and settling down. He looked up and saw Danny more than halfway done and still scarfing down more.
“Danny,” Jazz said carefully, “don’t choke, okay? Slow down.”
Danny choked. He coughed on it for a minute before swallowing it down and taking a long drink from his water. When he looked back at his family, they were all wide-eyed, hands outstretched a little helplessly. He looked back at the remainder of his food. “I’m fine,” he said, and his next bite was much slower; he didn’t immediately go for the next before the first was even gone. And because he knew his family was still staring, he said, “you guys can eat.”
And slowly, they did. Danny finished his burger, took another sip, and started eating his fries, eyeing the bag at his dad’s feet. He cleared his throat, “can I–”
Jack reached into the bag and grabbed the extra burger, passing it into his hand gently.
Danny nodded his thanks and unwrapped it before taking a few bites. It was quiet, maybe too quiet, because he knew that his parents and Jazz were still worried and looking him over as if he were going to roll over and die any second now. (Heh, die? Him?) And he couldn’t do anything to help it because what he experienced was insane; he couldn’t explain it or process it—his answers to the police should be a testament to that.
Jazz took in a short breath and gasped out, “Danny–”
And he sobbed against his half-eaten burger and wiped his face, trying to make the tears disappear, because this hurt. Why did this hurt? He had— He had died, hadn’t he? He did. God, it was hitting him now, slow and heavy, crushing his heart and pouring out of him through his tears. No. No, no, please. He wiped his eyes across his sleeve, sniffling, holding his breaths so his sobs would be quieter. I’m not. I’m not– I’m not de-. He shook his head, the sob coming out.
“Danny, Danny,” his mom sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him against her, and he leaned in, covering his face, still holding the burger in his other hand even though his tears had probably dripped all over it, and that was gross. But he was still hungry, and his head hurt, and he was still cold, god he was cold, like a corpse, like a ghost. He sobbed again, confused, overwhelmed, and god, his chest hurt with how much he was crying.
Danny woke up in the middle of the night with a stark breath filling his lungs, gasping away from a nightmare. He looked over to the sleeper sofa where his dad lay snoring; Mom and Jazz had gone home when visiting hours ended, giving many tight hugs and their goodbyes, promising to be back tomorrow. He sighed and then noticed something sitting on his chest when it whined oh so quietly.
His eyes blown wide, he stared at it, his whole body tensing. He could— he could only describe it as a blob . It had two little eyes, crying eyes, and it was staring at Danny as it whined, quiet and high-pitched like a mouse.
Carefully, he pulled his hand up, and it didn’t move away, so Danny ever so carefully reached out and patted it— Then he felt it, that place , the feeling of it, overwhelming just for a second, only long enough for him to recognize it. The thing cried again, and he gently placed his hand on top of it; that same sense of recognition and knowing flooded him, but it was gentle. This little thing was trapped there more than he was.
The longer he touched it, the lighter his entire chest felt, even as it cried a bit louder, like a small wailing creature. This was– it was what he felt all of the two weeks he was lost over there, embodied in this tiny, pitiful blob. It soaked it out of him like a sponge, easing the pain, and though his chest was still tight and he still remembered that fear, he felt a wave of relief crash over him.
He held it so so carefully to his chest, his own tears falling, and he– he thanked it, he cherished it. And when a sound whined through his teeth, the creature echoed it, huffing and sniffling as his tears fell in sync with it.
When his mom walked in the next morning, two more were right behind her. His eyes went wide upon seeing them, Sam and Tucker surging forward simultaneously, collapsing on top of him, and holding on tight. Maddie sputtered, “be gentle, you two.”
Danny didn’t care about the weight or how weak his limbs felt; he held onto them with all his strength.
Sam was probably crying, her head over his shoulder as she bawled out, “Danny! Danny, I was so scared. Oh man, I was terrified .” She squeezed him.
And Tucker took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before grimacing at him. “We didn’t know what to do. We–” his voice was quiet and hesitant, maybe a bit shaky. “Gah, Danny, ” he sighed, leaning in again, arms around Sam and him. Under his breath, he said, shit.
Sam choked up a bit, “I thought we wouldn’t see you again.”
“Ah, you’re actually here,” Tucker heaved a breath and then sniffled.
Sam pulled back and looked at him, her makeup running, and tucker did the same, carefully taking in his appearance. Danny was pale, he knew, and the doctors had pointed out that his eyes were sunken and dark, cheeks hollow. And he felt terrible, too; he felt awful, so he knew he had to look even worse. Sam’s face pinched up again, and she sighed, “you look terrible. Are you– are you okay?”
He nodded as best as he could. Then he brought a hand up to wipe his tears; he tried to ignore how Tucker followed his shaky hand back to his lap, looking at the bandages and reading the tags on his wrist. “I’m alright,” he said, trying to assure them with another nod. “It’s, uh– I’ll be okay.”
He glanced back at his parents. He needed to talk to Sam and Tuck about the portal; because they knew at least half of the story, and he knew they hadn’t told his parents. (Thank god. They would make things ten times worse if they knew.) Jack and Maddie were preoccupied whispering to each other, probably sorting out the hospital arrangements, until Maddie noticed the kids looking. “What is it,” she asked.
Danny swallowed and pulled a sad expression to ask her, “could we… can we have a minute?”
And she realized with an oh; she looked back at Jack and nodded. Then they stood up, “Yeah. Yeah, we can give you some space. Dad and I will wait in the hall. Holler if you need anything, okay?”
Danny nodded, “Yeah, mom.” And then the three of them watched his parents shuffle out the door.
Sam jumped back into a hug as soon as it shut, holding him tighter than before. She cried out apologies, saying sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, Danny, over and over again. He shook his head, but she just continued. “Danny, I tried, I tried; I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, tears seeping into the hospital gown.
He hugged her gently and looked at Tucker, his head in his hands, holding his glasses out of his face again. “Guys, I–” he cleared his throat, “I don’t– remember. I don’t remember what happened.”
Sam’s breath caught in her throat, but she kept her face buried in his shoulder, but Tucker’s head popped up, looking at him in shock. “You don’t– You don’t remember ?” Danny shook his head at him. And Tucker gave him this look, an expression he didn’t understand the meaning of; he had never seen Tucker look like that—so taken over by worry and emotion. “Danny—” he paused, “What– what do you remember, then?”
Sam sat up, then. She looked at him in anticipation, wiping off her smudged eyeliner with her sleeve.
He swallowed, trying to think of the last thing he remembered before he was just– on the other side. “I think– I know we were in the lab, and I went in the portal.” He saw Sam biting her lip; Danny didn’t mention that Sam had been the one to say he should go in. “I think– I think I hit one of the buttons, and everything was just– just– …. painful . And- and I was screaming, but after that,” he shakes his head, “after that, I don’t know.”
Two weeks ago
Danny was SCREAMING.
The light was so bright when the portal turned on for the first time; Sam and Tucker were frozen in their spots. And Danny’s voice cracked, surging louder, and they could see only a vague silhouette in the glow.
Sam let out a scream of her own, deep, guttural, and horrified. When she surged forward, reaching, Tucker ran too, grabbing her. “DANNY!” they both yelled from the depths of their lungs, as loud as they could, blinded by the light now mere feet in front of them.
She struggled against Tucker, trying to reach into the portal, but he caught her wrist; there was no way to know what would happen if she made contact with the portal. And Danny sounded like he was in so much pain; what if it put Sam through that same agony? Tucker yelled again, but Danny was just screaming so loud he wasn’t sure their voices could reach him.
Then Sam’s arm slipped out of his grasp, and she was reaching in, yelling for him.
“Sam!” Tucker grabbed her shoulder and held his arm around her waist in case the portal decided to drag her in.
Sam reached her whole arm through, craning her neck, so even her face was part way inside, and she had her eyes on him. Tears poured from her eyes as she reached, watching him writhe in pain, his body stiff like he wasn’t in control of his own body. “DANNY!! DANNY GRAB MY HAND!” she reached further, pushing against Tucker on the other side of the portal.
Danny did reach aimlessly toward her voice; his eyes wrenched shut. “HELP ME,” he yelled before the words turned to violent screaming again.
Sam stretched, unsure why she wasn’t in pain like Danny was, but she tried her best to grab him. It was burning cold in the portal's light, so she stretched and reached and pushed against Tucker, who was probably yelling at her, but she couldn’t hear. And then her hand touched Danny’s, and his clutched around hers. But– then she felt– just burning and tearing , and then she screamed . As quickly as they locked together, their hands let go, and Tucker pulled her back, falling on the floor.
Sam clutched her hand to her body and cried, sobbing from deep in her chest.
“Danny!” Tucker sat up, hearing his screaming dissipate, and the white-nothing of the portal started to change into something green and swirling. He stared widely until he couldn’t hear Danny anymore, and his heart pounded faster, panicked because where was he? Come on, no. Danny. Where are you, where are you, no, Danny, no– NO. Please don’t–
And then he heard Sam still crying and holding her hand to her chest. Wiping his face, he frantically grabbed her wrist to check for injuries; and she was so shaky, he was too. His face pinched up as he carefully turned her hand over in his and saw that from her palm to partway down her wrist was a distinctive Lichtenberg pattern marking her skin, red and cold to the touch. When he looked at her face, he wasn’t sure if she was crying in pain or because— because Danny was–
Danny held Sam’s hand in his, palm up, and gently brushed his fingers along the pattern. “It doesn’t hurt?”
She shook her head and shrugged. “No. It only did for a minute.”
He frowned, letting her hand go and staring at his lap. “You said it was cold,” he mumbled under his breath.
Sam looked at him for a moment and glanced at Tucker before nodding, “Yeah, it was– freezing.”
“It was so cold,” he agreed.
Tucker turned, intrigued by his tone. “Wait, did you–” he paused, thinking he should probably be tactful with this, “Did you get to the other side? To the– the– what were your parents calling it?”
Danny nodded and thought. He had forgotten they had a name for that awful place until Tucker mentioned it. What was it? “The– The Ghost Zone,” he muttered when he remembered. He sighed, putting his head against his knees, “it was a nightmare.” His throat was beginning to feel full and tight again; thinking about it, he really wasn’t ready to say all the things he saw over there.
Tucker contemplated and instead asked a different question. “How did you get back?”
Danny shrugged. “I found the portal again. It— I don’t know how; I couldn’t navigate it over there. There was no way to look for it. I just– I just found it again.”
“So when you went through,” Sam said slowly, “you were just back in your basement again?”
He nodded. “I went to the school. Nobody was home, so I— honestly, it’s a miracle I made it there before I passed out. I felt sick the whole way.” He stopped himself from saying he still felt sick and sighed.
“Crap, Danny,” Tucker said, dropping his hand onto his shoulder. He rubbed his temple, gently squeezing Danny’s shoulder, saying again, “crap.”
The room was quiet, and Danny took a deep breath. The blob—that seemed to stay with him and be invisible to others—crawled into his lap and snuggled against him. He finally started to calm down. Being unable to make heads or tails of what happened was taxing, and while he still didn’t understand the full picture, he could at least take a break. He could figure out the rest later, and have Sam and Tuck help him, but for now, he’ll just sit here and breathe.
He might’ve fallen asleep.