Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The realization that something was seriously wrong was like falling asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

There had been no catalyst, no trigger to speak of.

Miss Jones had been sick and, this late into the school year, they hadn't bothered to provide a replacement. Most of the class hadn't even bothered showing up anyway; with finals so close, they were either asleep or studying.

Cal would have done the same, was it not for the absolute chaos at home. The twins were off school for the summer already, and they made sure to make their presence known to every single resident of the house. Usually starting at 6am. Cal didn't feel like he got to choose whether to stay home or not.

This is how he found himself here, sitting in a mostly empty classroom, gaze unfocused as he soaked in the rare moments of quiet. In front of him lay an opened biology book, as he lied to himself that he was going to use this time to revise ahead of exams. Instead, the sketch of a duck wearing sunglasses was guiltily staring at him from the page margins.

His gaze had wandered to the window, towards the school-yard of Casper High. Today was a rather rare sunny day; it was early summer, but even during the heart of the hottest season there was a never-ending, persistent chill that seemed to choke the entirety of Amity Park.

Cal, of course, knew exactly where it was coming from.

It was a little bit difficult to live around here and not know about the ghosts.

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. He didn't have any particular strong feelings about ghosts, really. He had gotten used to them, in a way. But, truth be told, he was not a fan of the spine-chilling coldness that seeped through everything in their presence and lingered after they were gone. The way the town seemed never to be able to escape this coldness anymore bothered him, but there was not much to do other than suck it up.

Which was why rare days like today were a pleasant, welcome surprise to the locals. He could see his classmates lounging around in the grass outside, soaking up the sunlight like starving sunflowers, and it brought a warm feeling in his chest. Cal was always more of a people watcher, standing in the side and absorbing situations rather than getting involved.

He tried to ignore the tense feeling in his spine that made the hair at the back of his neck stand.

There was no haunting chill in this classroom. Right. He didn't want to go out and miss the time to relax.

Also, he was studying. He looked down at his book and a second duck that had joined the first and was silently judging him, this time wearing a dapper top hat and a little bow-tie.

His let his gaze passively wander around the room. There were only four others in there with him, all in different states of mental non-existence. Eleanor and Sally-Anne were sat opposite each other, heads close over the desk as they gossiped, their whispers providing a subtle background noise through the quiet room. Jonathan (the one with the glasses, not the one in the football team) was focused on the book in front of him and Danny, at the back of the class, looked to have fully dissociated, eyes glazed over. Now wasn't that relatable.

Cal sighed. Suddenly the chair felt a bit stiff, his shoulders a bit tense, so he pulled his arms behind his back in a big stretch. He couldn't help the groan that left his lips as he felt his joints pop. Grabbing the back of his chair, he twisted around -first the right side, then the left- to relieve the tension.

The tension, as if to spite him, stayed.

He got up, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made as it slid back, and he could see on the edge of his vision that his movement had caught the attention of the two girls. When he didn't say anything, they returned to their conversation.

Cal went around his desk towards the window and looked outside, once again marvelling at the sunshine and trying to ignore the goosebumps travelling down his arms. He did briefly debate the merits of joining the rest of the glass out in the grass once more, but the peace of the quiet classroom was too tempting for his foggy brain. Still, he didn't feel like sitting in a chair for the next forty minutes. Looking around, he spotted a few unattended markers on the teacher's desk, and paused, a thought forming in his mind.

His fingers were itching with misplaced adrenaline, and he figured what the hell.

Pointedly not allowing any awkward embarrassment to brew, he approached the desk, grabbed the black and green markers and approached the blank class whiteboard.

No ducks with accessories this time.

Cal had always liked to draw. His mom said it's because his hands can't sit still (but she liked it, really, especially when he made her custom-made mother's day cards every year). The twins had no opinion about it, until his sister got her first celebrity crush and begged him to draw the poor guy with cat ears.

She later posted it online with a humble brag about how she had 'finished it really quickly, what do you guys think' but, considering she had barely hit double digits in age, Cal had let it pass.

The validation of elementary kids was not in his radar, exactly.

He never followed any particular theme -his illustrations were usually random, without much thought. He liked letting his mind and hand take him wherever, and that often led to either randomness or, as was often the case for his bigger, more planned illustrations, a lot of inspiration from his environment.

Was it a surprise that he had produced so many drawings of ghosts?

As Cal was suddenly, once again, very aware of the subtle chill (not quite a presence, but it existed and it came from somewhere), he figured that one more addition to his ghost collection wouldn't make any difference.

Even if he wasn't used to drawing on a whiteboard, he still felt the long, controlled strokes of the marker come naturally. His preferred style was either completely colorless (which had absolutely nothing to do with his tendency to draw during class, thank you very much) or with minimal color; he knew how to manage negative space to his liking.

He had to admit, the subject he had chosen was pretty perfect for the whiteboard; all high contrast black and whites.

Getting lost in the process was easy for Cal; applying long strokes across the board and thick filling to the black outfit allowed time and tension to pass him by, almost. The hair would be tricky; making sure the black marker was used faintly enough to translate the light, luminous color was a mission, and Cal was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to his work. All aspects to a drawing needed to come together for a good result, after all.

But for this, the most important part was the eyes.

Cal tightened his grip around the green marker. There could be only one color on this drawing, and it had to be the eyes. Sadly, a green whiteboard marker would never be quite the toxic green that he would have liked, but it was the principle that counted.

As he placed the last detail on the hair, fade enough to be as close to the bright white of the real thing, he uncapped the green marker. There was a sense of gravitas in the movement, the start of the final step to this work.

Or maybe Cal was just pretentious about it, who's to say.

"Wow, Cal, you're so good!"

The sudden voice made Cal jump and, even worse, almost draw a green line straight through the board and the almost finished drawing. He turned around to realize that everyone in the room was staring at him.

Maybe he should've thought this would happen, but he felt the heat on his cheeks rise nonetheless.

It was Sally-Anne who had spoken, turned around on her seat where she was facing Eleanor. Both were smiling. A few desks ahead, Jonathan had abandoned his reading and instead was looking at Cal with interest, head resting on his hand.  

Cal avoided all their eyes, fidgeting with the green marker instead "Um, thanks. Just a hobby, no big deal."

Sally-Anne raised her eyebrows. "Are you joking? This is amazing! It's like, the best Phantom art I've ever seen!"

Cal blushed even harder. "You're exaggerating, but thanks."

Eleanor gasped "Oh my God, no one better erase this! Quick, I need a picture!" she swiftly pulled out her phone and paused. "Hey Cal, can you like, put a signature somewhere on that? I need to take a pic."

Cal breathed out, muttering 'no problem' and obliged.

A stutter sound came from Eleanor's phone "Awesome! I'll send it to you if you want!"

Cal refused and Eleanor shrugged, sending it to Sally-Anne instead.

Soon everyone went back to what they were previously doing and Cal was happy to be ignored. Walking over to the teacher's desk to put the markers back (and maybe look for an eraser, if Eleanor and Sally-Anne didn't kill him first), he was suddenly aware of that ever-present yet so distant chill and his head snapped up towards the room.

At that moment, he locked eyes with Danny Fenton, and Cal froze.

It happened slowly, and then all at once.

It was impossible to pinpoint what was wrong exactly, which made things worse. Danny Fenton looked as he usually did; tired, bruised, head resting against his hand and unruly hair falling in his face. Yet there was something just wrong. His pallor was pale, unnervingly so, the bluing bruise against his cheek and graze on his lip contrasting dramatically against his skin. But his gaze was so sharp that Cal was sure that Danny could see right though his skin and into his brain.

Time felt like it was slowing down as Cal was locked in by those eyes, a shade of blue so cold it was painful and, for the first time, Cal realized that he was seeing Danny Fenton.

Worst of all, Cal now knew where that ever so familiar chill came from, and he was almost shocked he didn't recognize it before. The aura of the dead was practically oozing off Danny Fenton.

Cal wasn't sure how long he was trapped under that gaze. It felt like eons, but it couldn't have been more than seconds. As he felt his brain melt under the realization that something was frighteningly wrong with one of the people he knew, something happened that shocked him out of his spiraling.

Danny smiled. The faintest, most tired lift of lips, yet it was enough to transform the aura of wrong and that trapping stare, like deciding to let free an animal that was going to become dinner.

Just like that, with a movement so simple, the chill was passive again. Cal smiled back.

Feeling like he was floating, Cal went back to his desk. He took a seat as the bell rang and his classmates soon started filtering in, all of them taking a moment to show various levels of awe towards his drawing.

Throughout it all, Cal kept his head tilted and one eye, watching Danny's reaction. To anyone else, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, groggy and unfocused. But Cal now knew better. He had realized the wrongness, and knew there was more hidden behind these icy eyes.

He didn't know what, he didn't know how. He didn't know when it had started, or why, but there was one thing Cal was sure of.

There was something very wrong with Danny Fenton.

Chapter Text

There was not much that could scare Eugene these days.

It was kind of sad, in a way. It felt like he had been robbed from fear as an option altogether; that he no longer had the choice to get scared, because then who knows what could happen to him. Being unafraid was a matter of survival in Amity Park.

There was a part of him that wondered how life would be if he had not been born here. If his parents moved away when his grandparents passed. If he had left to live with his brother, when he got married. All of these ifs that would have taken him away, and maybe he would still have the ability to be genuinely scared of things. He used to get a thrill out of horror movies, you know. Nowadays him and Jamie and their friends would just criticise the special effects, especially when it came to the ghosts.

When you dealt with the real thing on the daily, you became rather picky.

And so, here Eugene was, running for his life like every other Tuesday, and the only thing he could think of was ‘damn, we’re missing curry day’.

“Damn, we’re missing curry day” Jamie sighed as they ran next to him. Eugene couldn’t help but smile, and he gave a solemn nod.

“I was just thinking that. At least it’s not the lunch lady ghost, so the cafeteria might just have leftovers.” A guy could only hope. They kept running, Eugene focused ahead to avoid bumping into any students that were also running, and Jamie keeping an eye over their shoulder towards the green blobs that were viciously chasing them.

Today’s special had been a much larger, unidentifiable green blob, which was disappointing, really. Eugene was by no means an expert in ghost physiology but, regardless, he felt that the least someone could do if they became a ghost was to choose an appearance less lazy than ‘generic green blob of goo and terror’.

That was until Phantom appeared to do his thing and, the moment he punched the blob ghost, it exploded in a thousand tiny blobs (blob-lings?) and started chasing people.

Which is how they found themselves in this situation.

Phantom was currently some fifty-odd feet behind them, chasing after the little menaces and shoving them in his contraption (stolen from the Fentons, if the very inconspicuous branding was anything to go by).

“Gene, ghost shield!” Jamie’s shout gave him a startle, and Eugene broke out from his reverie as his gaze followed their pointed finger.

A semi-transparent green dome was surrounding a large patch of grass in the park across from them, a group of people (mostly students), sitting inside.

Although he was not scared of the bloblings, and while his cardio had significantly improved the past two years (thanks, continuous ghost-related escaping), Eugene could admit that his calves were getting rather tired and he was pretty sure he was getting a cramp on his side. A ghost shield was a very welcome surprise right now.

The street was empty of cars, so Eugene and Jamie made it through the shield smoothly, followed by more students and a couple of passer-bys that had gotten caught in the chaos.

Most of the group was gathered at the center of the dome, as far from the noise as they could. Eugene had no interest in being huddled with a bunch of people after running for three blocks so he and Jamie found an uncluttered, dry piece of grass on the edge of the group and made themselves comfortable.

“Ah man, the signal’s rotten!” Jamie grumbled, as they took out their phone. “I hate it when it’s one of those attacks. Why do you need to mess with the signal for?” they kept complaining as they fiddled with it.

Eugene didn’t even bother. He knew it was a moot point when, as Jamie had said, ‘it was one of those attacks’. Sometimes electronics just did not want to work around ghosts, and Eugene was not going to go anywhere near the Fentons to ask why.

So instead of uselessly fiddling with his phone, like Jamie was currently busy doing, he looked around at the rest of the group under the dome. There were quite a few unfamiliar faces, stragglers from the park and nearby shops clearly caught in the crossfire spread out from Casper High, but a number of students had also made it. The shield’s dome was not particularly big, which tracked; there were a few automatically triggered shields installed by the Fentons throughout Amity Park for situations such as this. Eugene assumed that most of the student body had made it under others that were nearer the campus. Frankly it was a bit weird to have ran this far out (yes, even for him. Especially for him).

Some familiar faces were Cal and Stella from his chemistry class, a couple of kids that he knew were in the marching band with Jamie, that blonde girl that was always attached to Paulina -Eugene knew she wasn’t also called Stella but it was something super similar to that. He paused and turned to Jamie.

“Hey, what’s the name of that blonde cheerleader that’s always stuck to Paulina Sanchez?” he asked, voice low so it wouldn’t carry towards the rest of the students. “Stella or something?”

Jamie’s attention broke away from their phone as they looked at him with a bewildered look.

“Stella? What’s wrong with you? Her name’s Star, you idiot.” Jamie huffed a laugh, “Stella, at least you were close”.

Eugene rolled his eyes as Jamie kept tapping away. Right, it was Star, wasn’t it? Who names their kids Star? At least Stella is an actual name and it means the same thing. Anyway, next to her was Dash Baxter, who looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else but there, and Eugene hated to relate to him of all people. There were a few other faces that Eugene had seen in the school before but he couldn’t name any of them to save his life. The only other people he could recognize were the distinctive looks of Danny Fenton, Sam Manson and Tucker Foley who, like him and Jamie had done, had opted to sit by the end of the dome away from the group.

Eugene liked Tucker. They had the same nanny growing up and their moms were friends, so many a play-date had occurred in their childhood. Since going to different middle schools they’d stopped hanging out really, but it was all good. They’d even eaten lunch once or twice while in high school.

Overall Tucker was a bit quirky, but a good guy. And, as he vaguely registered Jamie’s continuous grumbling to their phone, Eugene vibed with quirky.

He had no idea how much time had passed. It couldn’t have been that long, as it did not seem that the commotion had subsided yet. He could vaguely hear sounds of shouting from the direction of Casper High, so whatever fight was going on over there was hopefully getting somewhere. Even if this wasn’t close to the worst ghost-related incident he had experienced, sitting on a patch of grass with a bunch of panicking strangers for an undisclosed amount of time was not his idea of a good time.

Ultimately though, there was not much Eugene could do right now, so he just settled and went back to passively allowing his gaze to scan the group.

Dash Baxter was also on his phone, and Eugene could only guess what he could be up to considering the complete lack of signal. Next to him, Star-not-Stella was messing with a patch of grass in front of her, running her hands through the green blades without any rhyme or reason. Now that he thought about it, Eugene felt a bit bad for her; she did look rather pale, and the tension in her shoulders made it obvious that she was not as unaffected to minor ghost attacks as he was.

His face relaxed a bit. It really wasn’t a pleasant situation, and it was a shame that he (and Jamie, and many others) had gotten so used to it.

At the moment, the only other group seemingly as unbothered (if not more) than him and Jamie were Tucker and his troupe. Sam was fidgeting with something (lipstick? Eugene couldn’t tell but it looked small and tubular enough), head dropped on her hand. Tucker was leaning against her shoulder and tapping away on his PDA, mouthing something that Eugene couldn’t hear to Danny, who was sat next to him. And Danny-

Danny was lazily leaning against the shield’s dome, eyes half shut as if about to fall asleep.

Initially Eugene didn’t quite realize what was wrong with this picture, but the moment his brain caught up with his eyes, he elbowed Jamie with urgency.

“Ow, what the hell?” Jamie protested loudly and rubbed their arm. Okay, maybe he used a bit more force that was strictly necessary, but he concurred. This was weird even by Amity Park standards.

“Sorry” Eugene rushed “, but shut up and check out Fenton over there.” He whispered, trying his best not to make his staring obvious.

Jamie did not even attempt to hide theirs. Eugene elbowed them again.

“Just announce to the world you’re staring, why don’t you?”

Jamie didn’t seem to understand his attitude. They just rolled their eyes and turned to him “What’s wrong with Fenton? He just looks as wrecked and tired as he normally does. I would kill for a nap myself.” At least they were whispering this time.

Eugene frowned. “Yeah, sure, but how come he’s having a nap against the ghost shied?”

Jamie's eyes widened as the implications of that statement sunk in, and they turned towards the lounging group at neck-breaking speed. When they turned to Eugene again, their jaw had gone slack.

"How is he doing that?" Jamie mouthed, shocked.

Eugene had no answer, so he just shrugged helplessly.

Now Jamie's eyes were shaking, desperate for an explanation. "Maybe being a Fenton is just like that. I don't know what basically breathing ectoplasm on the daily would do to me but I wouldn't be surprised if stuff works weird."

Eugene was trying his best not to stare, eyes firmly focused on his friend's disgruntled face. "Yeah, maybe." His voice came out choked "That makes sense, yeah."

Jamie opened their mouth to add something further, when suddenly the semi-translucent dome of the ghost shield disappeared from around them and Phantom was standing a few feet away, chest puffed out and sweat dripping from his brow.

From the corner of his not-staring eye, Eugene noted Fenton tumbling on the grass as his support vanished. He frowned, but he forced himself to focus on Phantom.

"Well citizens, crisis averted! All the little goobers have been caught, so you can safely return to your business! Please alert authorities if you are experiencing any irregular symptoms or witnessing a problem. And with that, I have some cargo to drop off."

He shook the little gadget he was pointing at the ghosts earlier -wait, was that a thermos? Eugene wanted to question, but he knew the Fentons and their inventions better than that. He did wonder how Phantom had gotten his hands on it, though.

The crowd started dispersing then, most people far more interested in getting back to their lives and leaving the attack behind them. With heavy steps, Eugene started trudging behind Jamie as they headed back towards Casper High.

But even as he was walking away, he did not miss the knowing glance Phantom threw at Danny Fenton and his squad.

As the ghost threw away and the last of them were walking away, Eugene frowned.

Something was very wrong with Danny Fenton.