Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She first saw him three weeks to the day after the accident. The dirt on his grave was still fresh.

Three long weeks that saw Jazz slip into Danny’s room alone in shaken disbelief.

It was one of those evenings, sitting on Danny's carpet, when she saw him. Danny's room had remained untouched since the accident, which included his far-open window. Jazz was sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands in her lap, listening for the sound of her parents' voices from downstairs. Yelling matches have been common these last three weeks.

Then—

—A flash of white, just in the corner of her sight. She stood, staring across the room, waiting to see it again. She had seen something, right? (Or had she finally gone insane from grief?)

“Hello?” Jazz called softly. “Is someone there?” She swallowed. The curtains fluttered. She turned around and was face-to-face with a stranger.

Jazz tried to say something, but her voice was caught in her throat, so she wheezed instead. A boy with shock-white hair was standing in front of her, staring at her with startling green eyes. He was wearing some sort of jumpsuit and had an ethereal glow.

A ghost.

Jazz tripped back into the windowsill, rattling the panes. The ghost remained in place but said nothing, only watching her with those eyes. They made Jazz uneasy.

"Who—who are you?" Jazz whispered. "What are you doing here?" The ghost tilted its head, studying her with an unblinking gaze. It was like she was being… inspected.

“Jazz? Honey, are you up here?” Her mother’s voice pulled her from her trance, and Jazz spun on her heel as her mother approached the door. Jazz made a mad dash for the door and grabbed it as soon as her mother did, pulling it open.

"I'm right here!" Jazz said, putting on a strained smile. Maddie jumped but smiled as she saw Jazz exit Danny’s room.

“Oh,” she said, putting a hand to her chest. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Jazz pulled the door shut behind her and gave her mother an actual smile. 

“I’m okay,” she said, reaching out and rubbing Maddie’s arm. “I’m doing better, I think.” Her mother nodded and sniffed.

“I’m glad to hear it, honey,” Maddie said, using her palm to wipe at her cheek. Her eyes were red and swollen, much to Jazz’s dismay.

“Were you and dad in the basement fighting again?” Jazz asked, moving her hand to her mother’s shoulder. Maddie sighed in response.

"We were having a discussion," Maddie began, and allowed her daughter to walk her down the hallway and back down the stairs, leaving Danny's room behind. When Jazz returned hours later, the ghost had fled.

It had been two weeks since Jazz last saw him. She sat outside on the stoop of her therapist’s office, soaking in the gentle shift into early summer. Five weeks had passed since the accident, four and a half since the funeral, and for the first time, Jazz felt almost normal again.

She was waiting for Maddie’s appointment to end so they could meet Jack for dinner nearby. The day felt like the official start of summer: warm, light, and unexpectedly comforting.

The steady warmth made the sudden chill of a breeze stand out. It brushed past her, pulling her from her thoughts. She shivered, wrapped her jacket tighter, and glanced up and down the sidewalk, searching for the source.

"What was… hey!" Jazz said as she spotted a flash of white within a shadow. A pair of green eyes met hers through the tree leaves. "Hey, you!" Jazz stood and waved at the tree. A face peered out from the trunk, and Jazz watched as the boy ghost stepped out into the sunlight.

"You're a ghost, right?" Jazz asked the pale figure. The ghost looked to the left, then right, then back at Jazz, and gave a slow, deliberate nod. Jazz bit her lower lip, looking over her shoulder for Maddie. Of course, she would meet her first ghost right after a tragedy. Didn't tragedy attract ghosts? That seemed like something her parents had said.

"Who are you?" The ghost shrugged. Jazz stepped closer to the white-haired ghost, watching for any change on its face.

"Do you have a name?" Another shrug. Is this ghost setting a trap? Jazz wondered. Or is it just… dumb? That didn't seem right. While neutral, the ghost's expressions were undeniably human. Jazz could tell this wasn't some formless monster; maybe this ghost needed her help?

"Do you need help?" Jazz asked the ghost. The ghost tipped its head to the side and opened its mouth. Jazz was surprised to see a row of white, mostly human teeth with dark green skin and tongue. She noted mostly human as this ghost sported two short but sharp fangs where its canines should be, a phenomenon her parents had told her about, but she hadn’t quite believed. The ghost closed its mouth, righted its head, and held out its gloved hand. Something about the way it moved seemed… familiar, but Jazz wasn't sure how. She cautiously reached out to the ghost's hand, waiting for something to appear as she did. She had almost touched the ghost when it vanished in a flash of light and a soft, cold gust of air. Startled by the sudden disappearance, Jazz remained standing on the sidewalk for fifteen seconds before remembering where she was and what had just happened.

Why is this ghost so attached to me? Jazz wondered, looking around to see if the ghost had reappeared nearby. Does this mean you need my help? A breeze ruffled the tree leaves above her. Is that a sign? But after the leaves quieted, there was nothing. The ghost had disappeared once again.

She saw the ghost a few more times before it dawned on her. Of course. Of course. That furrowed brow, those kind eyes. Of course, she knows the ghost. Of course, the ghost needs her help.

The ghost is Danny.

The weight of that realization punched Jazz right in her gut, and she had to get up and run to the toilet to vomit everything in her stomach once it hit. Her brother is a ghost. Danny is a ghost.

Oh, my God, Jazz thought to herself. It was worse than she had feared. Experts theorized a ghost in an amnesiac state had a higher probability of a traumatic and violent end. Jazz's stomach soured at the thought, and she coughed uselessly into the toilet bowl. Several tears mixed with the saliva on her chin as she processed the new information.

It was now three months to the day that Danny Fenton, fourteen, of Amity Park, Illinois, died in an accident in their parent's basement. And Jazz just learned that his death was more than likely violent and painful.

It took several days for Jazz to recover from her new wave of grief, but when she had, she wanted to take action. She had to find the ghost again.

She had to find Danny.

Jazz drove to the small, shady cemetery at the edge of town where Danny was buried. She had stopped for a small bouquet of forget-me-nots, as strikingly blue as her brother’s eyes.

As she crunched her way across dry, dead grass, she realized she hadn't been to see him since his headstone was installed. The gleaming marble stone shimmered in the sun as she crested a small hill towards the back. His name came into focus soon after the approach.

DANIEL JOHN FENTON

Jazz laid the flowers at the base of the stone and stared at her reflection on the mirror-like surface.

You don’t raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they’ll turn out to be heroes, even if it’s just in your own eyes.

A quick Google showed Jazz that this was a quote from a NASA astronaut. How unusually thoughtful, she thought bitterly. Her parents could find a NASA quote for Danny’s epitaph but couldn’t have the good sense to keep dangerous equipment locked away.

(Why hadn’t I protected him?)

“I need to talk to you, Danny,” Jazz said to her reflection. “And I know you want to talk to me.”

“Uh, Jazz? Who are you talking to?” Jazz jumped and turned, startled. She was greeted by the confused expressions of Sam Manson and Tucker Foley. The duo stood behind her, holding a black bag between them, watching her quizzically. Jazz hadn’t seen them in weeks.

“Oh, uh, just myself,” Jazz said, running a hand through her hair. She pretended not to notice the look Sam and Tucker shared in response. “I hadn’t gotten the chance to come look at Danny’s headstone before today. A lot going on, y’know.” Tucker nodded as Sam took the black bag and closed the distance between them, stopping at the base of Danny’s grave.

“Apparently, last time we came we were here too late, and the grounds keeper kicked us out,” Sam said, hand on her hip. “So, we had to agree to come back during ‘daylight’ or the grounds keeper wouldn’t let us back in.” Sam turned to face the cemetery entrance and flipped both of her middle fingers. Tucker sighed.

“I didn’t want to be here at night,” he said, looking defeated. “You just know those ghosts that have been showing up around town are here at night!” Sam gave an exasperated sigh.

“The veil between this world and the next is the thinnest at night, Tucker,” she said. “That’s the best time to show respect and even—" she suddenly stopped and peered at Jazz. "Wait. Have you seen the ghosts?” Jazz pursed her lips.

"I've seen a few," she said, eyes trailing down to the bag in Sam's hands. She briefly debated telling them about Danny's ghost, but the idea of telling anyone made her stomach churn. He’s only showing himself to me for a reason. She also just felt… very awkward around Tucker and Sam. They had been there on the day of the accident and had witnessed everything. She was surprised to see them together in the cemetery so soon after Danny’s death. Surely, they must have been traumatized. “Nothing to worry about, I’m told.”

“That’s good," Sam said, hands tucked into her pockets. Tucker stepped up behind them, his gaze fixed on the headstone. The sun was setting now, casting a warm orange-pink glow that shimmered on the glossy surface. He pressed his lips together, then removed his glasses to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.

It was only then that Jazz noticed how red and raw his eyes were, like he’d been crying for a while. When she looked over at Sam, she saw the same thing; eyes dulled by grief, her cheeks a little hollower. Her face was clean of makeup, which was highly unusual for her. Sam Manson never left the house without her usual uniform, every detail carefully in place. But somewhere in the last few months, she'd just… stopped.

Of course they’re still grieving.

“I’m going to head home,” Jazz said, stepping back from Danny’s headstone. “But if either of you ever want—or need—to talk, call me.” She added her number to Sam’s phone, gave them a small, awkward wave, and made her way down the hill.

At the cemetery gate, she paused and glanced back, just to be sure. Sam and Tucker sat on either side of the headstone, a soup Thermos cradled between them. They were deep in conversation, occasionally turning toward the stone as if it, too, had something to say.

The bouquet on the grave stirred gently in the breeze, as if nodding along.

Without realizing it, Jazz began to research parapsychology. It started with a homework assignment for her Psych II class about the psychological response to paranormal phenomena, but it became a study into how to understand a ghost's subconscious. A scholarly paper about the budding field of parapsychology sealed her interest in the field. Parapsychology was the first part of ghost research that actually made sense to Jazz.

It also meant maybe she could reason with her brother ’s ghost.

Principal Ishiyama planned a candlelit vigil for the six-month anniversary of the accident. Thousands of people attended, nearly filling the football field outside of the school. Jazz was standing behind the bleachers, watching the field fill as day turned to dusk. She was hoping that something like a vigil would coax the ghost out of hiding. Her parents were in the center with the high school principal and a reporter from the local paper. Dressed in dark, age-appropriate, respectable dress clothes, Jazz was almost convinced her parents were normal. They were putting on an excellent show for the people of Amity Park; one could barely tell from the outside that they were on the verge of a divorce.

Jazz sighed. She turned her back to the field and closed her eyes, releasing a breath she didn't realize she held. The murmur of the townspeople milling nearby was comforting, even if she didn't want to be a part of it. The summer was warm and sweet, with a cool, gentle breeze—wait. Cool breeze? Jazz opened her eyes.

The ghost—Danny—was hovering in front of her. Jazz was so shocked she couldn't gasp, instead choking on her own saliva. She stumbled back and coughed into her elbow, her throat achingly raw. Danny stayed perfectly still, watching her with round green eyes. When she recovered, he turned his wispy tail into two legs and landed on the ground.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Jazz swallowed in surprise.

“You can talk?” she gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I hadn’t remembered how yet,” Danny explained. “But then I did. And I keep… seeing you.” He pointed at Jazz on ‘you’. “I keep seeing this place. This… town. But mostly you. And I need to know why." Jazz instinctively reached out to his pointing finger, but her hand passed through his. She stepped back, startled by the feeling of his spectral form. It felt like her hand passed through a cold mist that left her skin feeling numb. She shivered.

“I’m your sister,” Jazz explained. “My name is Jasmine. You call me Jazz. I am two years older than you. We have the same mom and dad.” Danny just stared at her, brows furrowed. “Your name is Daniel. I call you Danny.”

“Daniel,” Danny said.

"Danny," Jazz insisted.

"Danny," Danny said, softer. He stared at the ground and mouthed 'Danny' to himself. He looked back up at Jazz, his eyes darting frantically between hers.

“I don’t understand,” he said, voice trembling. “You call me Danny?” Jazz nodded.

"I call you Danny. You're my brother," Jazz said, gesturing to herself. "We have the same mother and the same father. We share DNA, but we are not identical. Do you understand?" The sun had almost set, and the candles were lit. Ishiyama made a short statement, then stepped aside for the vice principal, Mr. Lancer. His statement was more of a eulogy, espousing his pride in Danny's analytical skills and caring disposition. He stated that he believed Danny could have been a politician or a scientist and would have made Amity Park so proud.

Danny clutched his head and shook it violently. Pale fingers tangled in white hair, and his glowing green eyes locked on the ground. For a split second, Jazz thought she saw a flash of blue (her baby brother’s real eyes) shining through the green. That was all it took to break her, and the tears came.

“I don’t understand,” Danny choked out, his voice cracking. “I don’t understand why I’m here!”

“Danny, please!” Jazz cried, reaching for him again. This time, her hand connected with his. She gently pulled his hands away from his head, drawing him closer. His head snapped up in surprise and Jazz could see his matching ghostly tears, glowing white and rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m your family,” she whispered. “You’re here because I’m your family and you need me. Right?” But Danny shook his head, wrenching his arms free.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted. His legs transformed back into the ghostly tail, and he floated above her, tears still falling. Night had fallen and the moon waned.

“Danny, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jazz pleaded. “Listen to me. I am your family. We share our blood.” Jazz pulled her sleeve up and showed the underside of her forearm, pink and bare. “You have to understand me.”

“No! Leave me alone!” Danny screamed, although his scream was accompanied by a horrifying wail. The strength of the wail sent Danny skyward, and he vanished. Jazz let her arms drop to her sides as she stared at the memory of her brother. It had to be him. It sounded like him. It looked like him. It acted like him. She saw the flicker of recognition in his eye when she said ‘Danny’. It was him.

(Oh please, let it be him. Let me speak to him one more time. This is her baby brother, for God’s sake.)

Lancer had finished speaking, and now it was her parents' turn. They stood hand-in-hand, smiling for the crowd. The grieving parents of a dead child, pitiable and without scorn. Unfulfilled housewives will use their tragedy to express their desire to nurture, and her parents will use that nurturing to let their marriage limp along. Jazz finally joined the crowd, still looking at the sky to see if Danny would reappear. He didn't, which she expected. The tears continued to roll down her cheeks, but she didn't think anyone would find that unusual, considering the circumstances.

Jazz found her parents quickly, although the closer to them she got, the worse she felt. Her stomach churned at their sight, and the feeling of disappointment returned. If only they hadn’t been so ghost-obsessed she had thought hundreds and hundreds of times. None of this would be happening. Danny would still be alive.

“Jazz, honey, where have you been?” Maddie asked as Jazz appeared within earshot. Maddie reached out and pulled Jazz towards her by her wrist, causing Jazz to stumble in the crowd. She regained herself but couldn’t hide the disdain on her face.

“I’ve been busy,” Jazz said, yanking her wrist free. “I’m loving your little ‘happy couple’ act, by the way. You’re not fooling anyone.” Jazz rubbed her wrist and scowled. “You should be ashamed.”

"Jazz! What has gotten into you?" Maddie demanded, looking hurt.

“Jasmine, what’s going on?” Jack asked in confusion. “We’re here to remember Danny tonight.”

"I know, and I am," Jazz said, taking a step back from her parents. "I can't deal with you right now. I'll see you at home." She turned on her heel and stormed away, slipping through the crowd and out the back gate. Her righteous fury drove her forward and made her feel immense.

She was in such a hurry to put distance between her and the football field that she didn’t even notice the person following her. Upon reaching the first signal light from the school, Jazz paused to check the time. The vigil was set to end soon, but if she hurried home, she’d beat her parents there. Maybe then she can—

“Jazz?” Jazz jumped and turned, surprised to see Sam behind her. For someone wearing chains and combat boots, she moved silently.

"Sam? Did you follow me?" Jazz asked.

“I did, but it’s because I saw you talking to your parents,” Sam explained. “You looked upset. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

“Yeah, I… I’m okay,” Jazz said slowly, turning Sam over in her mind. Should she tell Sam about Danny’s ghost? Does she already know? It had been months since they met in the cemetery; was Danny reaching out to her, too? Jazz glanced around, but the street was deserted. People wouldn't be coming this way for a while. It was a perfect opportunity.

I can tell her, Jazz thought, and we can look for him together. Sam was the one who was interested in esoterica and the occult. She was probably an encyclopedia of information about ghosts. Sam would be a good ally.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, head tilted. Her expression seemed welcoming.

But the more people who knew, the more opportunities for it to slip to her parents. Her fear was that her parents would go after Danny's ghost and do who-knows-what to him. Dissect him? Interrogate him? Torture him? The bottom fell out of Jazz's stomach. No, not yet. She couldn't risk it.

"I'm sure," Jazz said, nodding to Sam. "Thank you." Sam nodded, her smile sad. She paused for a moment but then turned and headed back in the direction of the vigil.

Jazz watched Sam disappear down the block. Once she was out of sight, Jazz turned and started the brisk walk across downtown to her parents’ house, determined to beat them home.

I will find you again, Danny, Jazz promised. You will remember me. She arrived at an empty home twenty minutes later, with not even the porch light on. Jazz entered the dark house as silently as possible and tip-toed up to Danny’s room, where she sat cross-legged on his carpet.

"I'll wait right here all night for you, Danny," Jazz said and closed her eyes. She was awoken thirty minutes later by her parents. The room was empty.

Chapter Text

It had been nine months since Danny died.

Jazz's notes on parapsychology now filled three notebooks. The librarian had sneered at her request for books on ghost research but admitted they had been popular over the last several months as more and more ghosts began appearing in Amity Park.

She had stopped attending sessions with her therapist. She found him obstinate about her research, refusing to engage her theories and ideas. Well, if he wasn't going to engage in fair discussion, she was no longer going to pay him or talk to him. Besides, her parents were the ones who really needed therapy — not her. Not while she was learning so much.

Jazz hadn't seen Danny since that evening at Casper High. She felt confident that he hadn't passed on, not after how he acted on the football field.

Clear signs of distress, Jazz had journaled that evening. Amnesia. Re-learning human actions such as speaking, understanding, etc. Struggling with human social constructs. She twirled her pen, leaving a blue mark on her thumb. Needs guidance.

It was one of her afternoons in the library when the latest ghost attack occurred. A technology-obsessed ghost had snuck out of the portal and was manipulating every automatic system in Amity Park's hospital sector. The potential for mass deaths caused an uproar, and police, firefighters, and onlookers gathered outside. Jazz followed the crowd and was surprised to see the first responders standing by the barricade, staring upwards.

"Hey, what's going on?" Jazz asked someone at the back of the crowd. He was a local teenager, a blond, burly football player Jazz assumed from his letterman jacket. He was huddled with a group of students, all whispering to each other.

“Some sort of big ghost attack,” the blond boy explained. “But there’s someone in there fighting the ghost." He pointed towards the upper left side of the hospital, where a fire truck's ladder waved in the commotion. The technological ghost flew out of an upper window and landed on a ledge, gesturing to something out of sight. There was a crash, and a large metal structure collapsed on the hospital roof. The lights flickered inside, with half the building going dark.

This is getting dangerous, Jazz thought, stepping back from the others. Should I call my parents?

"Look!" someone shouted from the crowd, and as instructed, Jazz looked up. A small figure was floating before the antagonizing ghost, yelling something. Jazz squinted at the familiar brush of white hair and dark jumpsuit.

“Danny?” Jazz exclaimed, but the clamor of the crowd drowned her out. The figure — Danny — began blasting the other ghost with ectoplasm, directly from his palms. Jazz felt her jaw fall open in shock.

“I think that ghost is on our side,” someone said to Jazz’s left.

“Do ghosts fight other ghosts?” someone whispered to her right.

"That ghost is just a kid," the blond boy said, eyes wide. Jazz glanced at him and his friends. "He looks like he's like, twelve or something. And he's kicking butt!" Jazz couldn't help but agree, looking back up at the hospital. Danny appeared to have the upper hand. The other ghost was holding its right shoulder where tendrils of green smoke wafted from a gaping wound. The wound leaked glowing green pus, and Jazz grimaced at the sight.

She was so busy watching Danny that she barely noticed the familiar siren of her parents’ RV screaming around the corner and into the parking lot. Jazz’s heart leaped into her throat when she saw them approach the other first responders.

Oh, God, no, she thought with a sour stomach. I can’t let them see Danny. But her parents weren’t even looking in Danny’s direction; they were preoccupied with handing out ecto-weapons to the police officers. Jazz’s fear turned to embarrassment.

"Go, ghost kid!" someone shouted, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Jazz looked back up and saw Danny had the hostile ghost cornered, and was holding something in its direction. Danny shot another blast through the device in his hand, and the hostile ghost was frozen in ectoplasmic lightning. Danny flew down to a lower level in the hospital and through a window, appearing back through the far wall with another device. It was then that Jazz noticed someone in the window next to Danny—

“Is that Sam?” Jazz asked. The person in the window vanished as quickly as they appeared, but Jazz recognized that silhouette. What was Sam doing in the hospital? Jazz's thoughts were interrupted as the crowd gasped at the sky above. Jazz re-focused on the roof, where Danny had just captured the other ghost in a cylindrical device. It looks like a soup Thermos, but that can’t be right…

"Everyone get back!" Danny yelled from the roof. Surprised to be addressed, the crowd shuffled obediently backward from the police barriers. Danny then flew upwards and disappeared into the top floor of the hospital. After a few moments, the lights flickered back on in the whole building. Staff who were previously trapped inside were able to leave as the emergency doors were deactivated. Relieved first responders ran up to greet and triage the victims. Jazz began pushing through the crowd towards the barriers.

“What happened here?” Jazz asked as soon as she found her parents. Maddie turned in surprise.

“Jazz! How long have you been here? Are you alright?” Maddie asked as she removed her goggles and hood.

“I got here right before you did,” Jazz said, looking for Danny on the upper floors. “What did that other ghost just do?”

“We have no idea!” Maddie said. “This is highly unusual paranormal behavior. What, is this a ghost hero?” Maddie scoffed. “This new ghost must be featured in our next study.”

“Oh, for sure!” Jack agreed. “A pro-human ghost? This could be an entirely new sub sect!”

“A new type of ghost? Are you sure?” Jazz asked, skeptical. Had they really not noticed it was Danny? Maybe they had been too far away. Since Jazz already knew it was Danny, of course, she recognized him from a distance. But his features had changed — white hair and green eyes were not Danny. Not her Danny.

“We won’t be sure until we’ve gotten a closer look, but this is a very promising start,” Maddie said, writing furiously on a small tablet. “The portal has been open for nine months. Ghosts from other parts of the Zone must be just finding it.”

“Are you sure you want to mess with the ghost of a child?” Jazz asked in response. “What if he’s, like, under-developed or something? Maybe he hasn’t fully transitioned to being a ghost and is in limbo.” Maddie eyed her daughter skeptically.

“Have you been reading up on your ghost behavior, Jazz?” she asked. Jazz rolled her eyes, pretending that her mother hadn’t figured her out so quickly.

“Of course not, Mom,” Jazz responded. “I just want to make sure you’re—we’re—doing the right thing here.” Maddie patted Jazz’s cheek affectionately.

“Oh, sweetheart, we appreciate you looking out for us,” Maddie said. “We don’t want to hurt it, we just want to study it. Any information we can get from its maturation period is ideal. Right, honey?” Maddie elbowed Jack, who grunted in agreement.

“Yes! We need to get as much data as possible,” Jack added.

“Fentons!” The fire chief stomped over, interrupting their conversation. “Do you know what went on here? I need a report, pronto.”

“We’ll get it to you right away, sir,” Jack said, giving the chief a solute. The chief crossed his arms and frowned.

“Don’t do that,” he said, and turned away. Maddie nudged Jack and the pair followed the fire chief into the throngs of police officers. Jazz, annoyed, looked up. She hadn’t seen any sign of Danny or Sam since the power came back on inside the building, although Jazz had a feeling that was by design. If Sam knows about Danny, Tucker must as well. Are they helping Danny? Are they hiding him from me?

"Jazzie! You should head home!" Maddie called from across the yard. "We have to secure the area!" Jazz was about to protest when a police officer walked over to the barricade and started yelling at the crowd.

“Alright, pack it up,” the officer said, hands on her hips. “We need to secure the area.” The remaining bystanders turned to leave, muttering in annoyance about closed crime scenes. Jazz followed the others out of the parking lot and onto the main road, which had also been barricaded. Thankfully, Jazz’s car was still parked at the library, and she was able to slip home.

By morning, the headlines were full of the ‘ghost boy’ of Amity Park, who valiantly fought a ghost and saved humans. Suddenly, her parents were well-respected scientists with a niche area of study, and no longer the town conspiracy theorists who were regularly ostracized.

“We will catch this ghost boy and learn everything we can,” Maddie said at a press conference two days later. “We will do our best to defend Amity Park from these rogue specters. It starts with scientific study of the ghost boy!” The crowd gave an enthusiastic cheer, and Maddie raised her arms in victory.

Maddie and Jack called off their divorce one week later.

When it was ten months and twelve days until the first anniversary, Jazz had a panic attack.

The town had emailed the Fentons and asked if they were interested in a town-wide memorial for Danny. Jazz wasn't sure if this was a sincere request or another way for the town to manipulate their resident ghost hunters; either way, her parents were happy to hear the request and tearfully agreed. Jazz confirmed the details and immediately left the room, locking herself in her bedroom for the evening. She didn't want to think about Danny with them around.

One year, Jazz thought. The first year you missed. That thought made her pause. The first year you missed. This is the closest she would ever be to Danny again. Their age gap would only grow over the years. Jazz would eventually turn eighteen, then twenty-one, then twenty-five, and then thirty-five—she would be a fully-grown adult, but Danny would always be fourteen.

Jazz slid down to the floor of her room, back to the door. Danny would always be fourteen. Her heart began to hammer against her ribcage. You will always be fourteen. She closed her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, choking her.

The first year you missed. Danny, how could this have happened? Why didn ’t I protect you? Why did it have to be you?

(Why couldn ’t it have been me instead?)

Jazz wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. Sweat began trickling down her face as her chest began to throb.

Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Why not one of your friends? She normally wouldn’t think such things, but her panic let her indulge in the thought. Hot tears mingled with the sweat on her cheeks. Why?

She had been so preoccupied with her research these past few months that she had managed to hold back her grief. The stark reminder of the passage of time, however, that she couldn’t escape. The realization that one year had passed without her brother was drowning her.

An all-consuming ache rose through Jazz’s chest, and she laid her head down on her arms with a quiet sob. You will always be fourteen. Why did it hurt so much? She and Danny hadn’t even been close. They had no shared interests and rarely spent time together; the last time Jazz remembered enjoying a day with Danny was as a six-year-old. So why was this hurting so badly?

Time passed. Jazz wasn’t sure exactly how much.

What she did know was that she was very tired and very thirsty. She pushed herself up from the floor where she'd fallen asleep and wobbled to her bed. She collapsed on it gratefully and grabbed the water bottle on her nightstand, taking several gulps. Her throat was raw and hot as if she'd swallowed lava. She drained the bottle and tossed it to the other side of her bed before falling backward into her pillows.

Wait. She hadn’t fallen asleep.

Jazz rolled over to her side and stared at her bedroom door. She hadn’t fallen asleep. And this wasn’t her room. Jazz jumped as she realized she was sitting in Danny’s bed, staring at Danny’s bedroom door. When did she get here? And how long had she been here? Jazz hopped out of Danny’s bed, peering at the water bottle she’d just drunk. Had it been sitting in here for ten months? Jazz licked her lips and frowned. It had tasted off.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Jazz murmured to the room. “You just had a panic attack. You’re okay.” She took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled from her nose. She could feel her heart starting to calm. “I probably just came in here to feel more comfortable.” She took another breath, eyes closed.

The ever-open window allowed an icy breeze into the room, causing Jazz to shiver. It was December. Their first holidays without Danny had passed with little fanfare; no matter how many times they said it, no one had the heart to pull the decorations out of storage that year. Now they were almost to a new year. The first year Danny will never know. The first year that will never know Danny.

Maybe it was the finality of it all that was hitting Jazz. Each large milestone that passed was another between her and her only sibling. Sure, they hadn’t been conventionally close, but they shared a bond that only the children of strange parents understood. And without Danny, the only witness to their parents’ absurdities was Jazz. It was a lonely life.

Jazz tiptoed to Danny’s door, peeking through the crack. The hallway was dark, and her parent’s bedroom door was closed. Jazz slipped from Danny’s room to hers, and with an exhausted sigh, crawled into her own bed. She lay motionless for a moment, just breathing into her sheets. Once the worst of the feeling passed, she sat up and changed into her night clothes, feeling instant relief at the comfort. She lay back in her bed, staring at the slanted ceiling above but not seeing it at all.

“I miss you, Danny,” Jazz said before falling into a deep sleep.

The one-year vigil was held at dusk in the cemetery. The crowd was smaller this time, though most of Danny’s classmates still showed up, including Sam and Tucker, who stood toward the back. The two were inseparable, rarely more than a few inches apart. Jazz longed to speak with them privately, but they hadn’t spoken to her since the last vigil for Danny.

This year, Mr. Lancer led the ceremony alone. The principal was absent, leaving Lancer to stand at the front beside Jazz’s parents. Maddie and Jack wore thick winter coats pulled over their jumpsuits. It was bitterly cold, but Jazz couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discomfort at the sight of them. She knew why they wore the suits. Ghost attacks had been escalating, and any gathering at the cemetery was bound to attract attention. Maddie insisted they come armed, especially since it was also the first anniversary of the portal’s activation. Still, something about the way her parents stood there, bright, cartoonish, and so out of place among the dark, somber crowd, made Jazz’s stomach turn.

“Ghosts are very attuned to anniversaries,” Maddie had explained as she tucked an ectoblaster into her inner pocket. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Thank you for joining me today, everyone,” Lancer began as a few stragglers joined the group at the back. “We are gathered here today to remember Daniel Fenton, who tragically passed one year ago today.” A hush settled over the crowd as a few students stole furtive glances at the dark headstone behind Lancer. “Although he left us one year ago, Daniel’s memory is with us through his parents, who have been hard at work managing the increased spectral activity around Amity Park.” Lancer gestured vaguely to the air, and Jazz half-expected a ghost to appear above them. 

She hoped it would be Danny.

Nothing happened, just the creak of tree branches swaying in the cold breeze. Lancer continued speaking, but Jazz’s focus drifted to the back of the crowd, where Sam and Tucker stood. Tucker was digging through his backpack, distracted, while Sam stared straight ahead. Her eyes, though, were unfocused. She swayed slightly, head tilted, looking more like she was waiting for the whole thing to be over than listening. Something about her demeanor struck Jazz as… off.

Then Sam’s eyes began to roam, and suddenly locked with Jazz’s. Startled, Jazz looked away, pretending to focus on Lancer. But after a beat, she glanced back. Sam was still staring. Her gaze was steady, dark eyes fixed on Jazz, her brows raised in a way that almost seemed to say, I know something you don’t.

Jazz shifted her face back toward Lancer, but kept her eyes on Sam. Sam noticed. She nodded slightly, then jabbed Tucker with her elbow. He flinched. Ow, he mouthed, scowling at her, until he followed her line of sight and saw Jazz. His eyes flicked between the two of them, confusion settling on his face. Sam elbowed him again, sharper this time, then broke eye contact with Jazz to shoot Tucker an exasperated look. Tucker lightly punched her shoulder in return. Sam just rolled her eyes.

“...place the candles here, on this stone,” Lancer was instructing as Jazz tuned back into the vigil. “Please don’t leave the matches on the ground when you’re done.” The crowd shifted as Lancer handed out votive candles inside paper cups. As the students and onlookers moved towards the headstone and her parents, Jazz noticed neither Sam nor Tucker moved forward. They shared a look and turned, speaking to each other. Jazz’s heart pounded in her throat. She had to talk to them.

As she slipped behind the crowd, the two began to walk deeper into the cemetery. Jazz followed them until they darted behind an old, worn monument. Jazz hovered on the other side, her stomach in knots.

They know something. It’s time I find out what. Jazz inhaled deeply and stepped around the monument, arms crossed over her chest. Sam was holding a cylindrical object in her hands and was pointing to something inside Tucker’s bag. Tucker was holding his backpack open, looking annoyed. They both jumped in surprise upon seeing Jazz beside them.

“Jazz!” Sam squeaked. “W-what a surprise to see you back here!” she gave Tucker a look. Tucker cleared his throat and shoved the cylindrical device into his backpack, tossing the satchel over his shoulder.

“Jazz! It’s great to see you!” Tucker chirped. Jazz arched her eyebrow.

“Hi,” she said flatly. “I know you’re hiding something.” Sam’s cheeks brightened, and Tucker bit his lower lip.

“What?” Sam said a bit too quickly. “No, we’re uh, just talking about some school stuff. You know.”

“Yeah!” Tucker added, buttoning his jacket against the chill. His backpack still lay on the ground in plain view of the three of them. Jazz sighed.

“What’s going on?” she asked. The duo said nothing in response. Time to lay it all out there. “Is it about Danny’s ghost?” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, and Tucker’s mouth fell. Sam opened her mouth to rebuke, but Jazz lifted her hand.

“Don’t bother,” she said, dropping her other arm to her side. “I’ve seen him a few times. I’ve even spoken to him. I know.” Tucker and Sam shared a glance.

“You do?” Tucker asked, sheepish. “We uh… he didn’t mention talking to you.” Sam wrung her hands and fiddled with her rings anxiously.

“We weren’t keeping the truth from you like, in a bad way,” she explained. “We just…” she looked at Tucker. “We know how your parents are.”

“We were worried they would try to catch him or something if they knew,” Tucker added. He pulled the cylindrical device from his bag. “Maybe even in something like this.” He handed the device to Jazz.

It was surprisingly heavy and pleasingly smooth to the touch. It was the same size and shape as a Thermos, with stainless steel plating and an electronic interface. Jazz turned it in her hands.

“What is it?” she asked. Sam and Tucker shrugged.

“A prototype for a ghost catching device,” Sam explained. “We’ve been calling it the Fenton Thermos, because, well,” she gestured to the device. “It looks like it has soup in it.”

“Your parents made it,” Tucker added. “We found it in their lab.”

“We didn’t mean to take it!” Sam said. “We swear! We were looking at it when—” she stopped and rubbed her arm. “We—I—was looking at it when—when it happened.” She took a shuddering breath. “I had put it in Tucker’s bag without thinking.”

“I found it in there a couple days later,” Tucker explained. “I was planning to bring it back, but when Danny first came to us…” he trailed off and shrugged as if to say you know.

"What exactly have you and Danny been doing?" Jazz asked. The sound of applause drifted towards their conversation, and Jazz peered around the monument back to the vigil. The candles were lit in a circle in front of Danny's grave, illuminating the headstone. Night had fallen, and the vigil was over. The crowd began to disperse, heading back to the front of the cemetery. Lancer was speaking with her parents, with a few participants hanging around behind him. She guessed these folks wanted to talk to her parents, too. They didn't have much time before her parents would come looking for her. 

“We’ve been helping Danny hunt ghosts,” Sam explained. “The ghosts that have been coming through the portal.”

“He thinks it’s his responsibility,” Tucker said. “Since he was the one who opened the portal.” Jazz looked at them with surprise.

“He—he opened it?” Jazz said. “I thought it just short-circuited, and then opened.”

“No, he pushed something inside of it,” Tucker said. He glanced at Sam. “Our working theory is his body acted as a conductor for some sort of current that wasn’t connecting before.” And then he died, Jazz wanted to add. The smell of burnt flesh would haunt her forever.

“We think he’s stuck here because of the accident,” Sam said. “And this is how he’ll, I don’t know, move on, I guess?”

“And you two are helping him?” Jazz asked. A thought occurred to her. “Does he know who you are?”

“Kind of,” Tucker said. He tucked the Thermos back into his backpack. “He recognizes us and we’ve told him our names, but he doesn’t like, know us know us, you know?” Jazz nodded slowly, recalling her encounter with her brother.

“He didn’t remember me, either,” Jazz said. “The first time I saw him, he couldn’t even speak.”

“Yeah, his ghost development is out of whack,” Sam said. “Based on what I’ve been able to research, anyway.”

“I think it’s because his death was so traumatic,” Jazz said bluntly. The duo gave her a concerned look. “I’ve been doing my own research.”

“Jazz?” Jack’s voice drifted across the cemetery. “You want a ride home?”

“I have to go,” Jazz said. “But I want to talk to you more. I want to help Danny regain his memories. I have my own theory, and I’ll need your help.” She took out her phone and handed it to Sam.

“Jazz?”

“Coming!” Jazz called. Sam programmed her phone number into Jazz’s phone and handed it back. The trio then went back to the cemetery path, where Jack and Maddie were waiting with Lancer. Jazz noticed another man, about her parents’ age in a dark suit, loitering behind them.

"The cemetery is about to close," Lancer said. "Come along, Miss Manson, Mr. Foley." He gestured to the front gate. The small group walked to the front together, with the mystery man trailing behind. Sam gave Jazz a small wave and left the cemetery with Tucker, headed back home. Most of the people had left by now, leaving just her parents' beat-up van in the parking lot.

“Thank you again for all of this, Mr. Lancer,” Maddie said, shaking Lancer’s hand. “We deeply appreciate you taking the time to honor Danny’s memory.” Lancer smiled.

“I care for all my students,” he said, “even those no longer with us.” He shook Jack’s hand and nodded to Jazz before heading to the bus stop down the road, clutching his folder to his chest.

“Well,” Maddie said as she unlocked the van. She sighed as the van clicked, leaning heavily on the door. “I’m exhausted.” She gave a wary smile to her daughter. Jazz could see the red skin underneath her eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

“What about—” Jazz started, looking back towards the man. But when she turned, the man had vanished, and she was only looking at Jack.

"What about what, sweetie?" Jack asked as he walked to the other side of the van. "I think everyone's left by now."

“I thought I saw…” Jazz trailed off as her parents climbed into the van. The cemetery was bathed in darkness, and nothing stirred beyond the iron gate. “I thought I saw a man.”

"This place has a groundskeeper," Maddie offered from the driver's side window. "Come on, let's go home." Reluctantly, Jazz followed her parents into the van and left the dark cemetery behind. The dark-suited man was gone.

Chapter Text

Jazz was home when it happened.

She was halfway through Metamorphosis, studying for her AP exam, when the lights flickered—once, twice—and a sharp burst of static crackled from downstairs.

Then everything went black.

For several long seconds, the house was swallowed in darkness. When the power returned, it didn’t come back fully. The lights buzzed faintly, casting the room in a sickly half-glow. The air felt wrong, charged and heavy, like it was holding its breath. And beneath the static… a scream. Distant. Twisted. Jazz wasn’t sure if she’d actually heard it or just imagined it. She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to remember.

She ran.

Everything looked normal at first glance; the front door was shut, the windows intact. The kitchen showed no signs of damage. No gas leaks, no flooding. But something was wrong.

The air shimmered with heat, humming with a charge that raised the hairs on her arms. A faint, unnatural glow hovered just above the floor, casting a neon haze that pulsed like a warning.

The next thing Jazz knew, she was standing in the basement. A sickly neon-green haze pulsed from the far corner, where her parents’ Ghost Zone portal spilled light and ectoplasmic energy into the air like a slow, leaking wound. Instinctively, she reached for the PPE shelf beside the door, but it was missing, collapsed to the ground and out of reach.

That’s when she really saw the lab. It was wrecked. Equipment overturned, glass shattered, tools scattered across the floor. The destruction was total, and terrifyingly silent. Somehow, she hadn’t even heard it happen.

“What’s going on down here?” Jazz called out, her voice cutting through the haze. Weren’t Danny and his friends home, too?

“Jazz?” The voice was weak, trembling. Jazz squinted through the smoke until she spotted Sam, kneeling near the portal. She looked physically unharmed, but her face was ghost-white, eyes wide and unblinking. Her skin was streaked with glowing, mucus-like slime that clung to the walls and floor.

And beside her, sprawled on the ground, lay Danny. Face-up. Motionless.

Jazz ran to him, but after that, everything blurred. The memories from that day came back in fragments; always jumbled, always incomplete. She remembered dropping to her knees, cradling Danny’s torso in her lap. His body was both burning and freezing beneath her hands. His eyes were open, but glassy. Dull. Lifeless.

There’s the hazy memory of being inside the ambulance, back to the wall, staring directly ahead and avoiding the EMT’s looks. Maddie was next to her, squeezing her hand. Danny started breathing again. Jazz squeezed Maddie back harder.

There were so many meetings with the same doctor that they all blurred together over time. Cardiac arrest. Skin burns. Multiple organ failure. Brain death. Etc., etc., etc. The only thing keeping Danny alive was an endotracheal tube shoved down his throat, forcing air into lungs that no longer wanted to breathe. Jazz hated that tube. Hated how it made him look, like a stranger wearing her brother’s skin.

Then came the investigation. The state crime lab swept through the house, took their notes, ran their tests. A few days later, the incident was officially ruled a tragic accident. No foul play. Just “general lab negligence.”

General lab negligence. The phrase made Jazz want to vomit. After the case was closed, her parents began cleaning the lab. She could hear them from her room, murmuring in low voices, crying sometimes, like they were grieving something they hadn't caused. But it had to be their fault. Whose else could it be?

Danny was extubated four days later. Or maybe it was five days later, or seven days later? Jazz wasn’t sure about time at all anymore. Whatever day it was, she was able to hold Danny’s hand until he passed. She remembered the pulse beneath her fingers. Faint. Fluttering. Fading. Until it was gone.

She didn’t see Sam or Tucker again until Danny’s funeral. She had been in touch a few times since the accident; once to share that the Fentons were taking Danny off life support, and another time to confirm Danny’s death. Both times Jazz only received acknowledgment of the notification, and nothing else. She wanted desperately to talk to them herself, especially Sam, whose terrified expression haunted Jazz nightly. The two friends were subdued, morose in their mourning of her brother. They sat towards the back together, hands entwined, as if each other’s touch was their only lifeline. At that time, it probably was, Jazz reflected later. Their shared trauma was a bond none surpassed.

Her parents repaired the lab. The portal was, somehow, fully functional and honest-to-God ghosts were coming through. The sight horrified her but delighted Jack and Maddie. They started catching the ghosts to study them. Performing experiments and asking them probing questions:

“Does it hurt to pass over?”

“What is the transition like?”

“Let’s take a sample, shall we?”

She was afraid that one day Danny would come back through that portal, his eyes wet, asking why didn’t you help me, Jazz? Why didn’t you do more? And she woke up crying, cheeks chapped in the night.

Jazz forgot about the dark-suited man at Danny’s memorial until she headed downstairs one morning four weeks later and found him sitting at the kitchen table. Jazz froze in her tracks, startled to see someone new in her house. Jack was sitting with the man, talking at him rather than with him. A strange tension lingered in the room as she noticed its occupants.

“—and then he said oh no, not again! But it was happening again and—hey, morning, Jazzy!” Jack said as he noticed his daughter on the threshold. “There’s someone here you should meet.” Jack gestured to the suited man. “Jazz, meet Vlad Masters, our old college buddy!” The name pinged a memory.

“Vlad Masters, of the Forbes Millionaires To Watch This Decade list, Vlad Masters?” Jazz asked as she took his hand. Vlad gave her a vigorous shake before adjusting his jacket.

“Well, I see my reputation proceeds me,” he said, nodding to Jazz and giving her a wry smile. “You seem like a bright young woman, Jasmine. I can’t believe we’ve never met.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Jazz said, ignoring Jack’s beaming and instead looking towards her mother, who didn’t seem nearly as excited that Vlad was visiting. Maddie was standing at the sink, coffee mug in hand, watching Vlad and Jack with pursed lips. Mom isn’t happy he’s here. “I thought my parents would have mentioned being friends with a millionaire.”

The tension that Jazz sensed upon entering thickened, and Maddie turned away from the table to add more creamer to her coffee. Jack glanced at Maddie, then back at Jazz and Vlad.

“Your parents have always been more concerned with the present when it comes to living beings,” Vlad said smoothly, running a hand over his hair. “The three of us were budding ghost researchers at the time, but they were the ones who kept the passion alive for the field.” Vlad took a swig of his coffee, grimaced, and smiled at Jazz.

“We uh, kind of lost touch,” Jack added sheepishly. Jazz watched Vlad and Jack share a look, but she couldn’t decipher its meaning. “You know, graduation, kids, all of that.”

“Of course! Water under the bridge,” Vlad said, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I did receive a notice of Jasmine’s birth all those years ago — sixteen, correct?” Vlad turned back to Jazz.

“She goes by ‘Jazz’, and she should be going to school,” Maddie interrupted, scurrying over to the table. “Right, honey?”

“I’ve got time,” Jazz said, raising her eyebrows at Maddie. She’s trying to hide something from me, Jazz thought. There’s a reason this weirdo is here. She turned her attention to Vlad. “Call me Jazz, please. What brings you to Illinois? It certainly can’t be for Department of Defense research.” Vlad blinked in surprise.

“You’re more well-read than I thought,” he said. “At least someone in this family is on top of current events.”

“Jazzy is our resident academic,” Jack said, beaming at Jazz. “I’m sure she’d love to chat with you about your business, uh, stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Vlad said, “but I’m not here about that, am I Jack? Nor am I here for the DOD, I assure you.” Vlad gave Jack a strange look, and Jack looked away. Jazz felt the tension shift; both of her parents were hiding something from her. Something they really didn’t want her to know.

“Honey, you should be leaving,” Maddie insisted, voice strained. “Vlad is here for business. You’ll have time to talk to him after school.” Maddie pulled Jazz from her seat by her shoulders, startling everyone at the table, Jazz included.

“Mom!” she cried, pulling free of her mother’s grasp. “What’s gotten into you? What’s going on here?” Maddie stared, bug-eyed, at Vlad. Jack pushed by Vlad and approached Jazz. The joviality in his voice from minutes earlier was gone, and he was giving Vlad bizarre looks.

“Jazzy, you should go, really,” he said, clenching his teeth. Vlad was standing just beyond, watching them.

“No, Dad,” Jazz said, shaking her head. “Tell me why he’s here!” Maddie had regained her composure and grabbed Jazz’s arm, pulling her into the foyer. “Mom! Wh—”

“You didn’t tell her?” Vlad interjected. He licked his thumb and smoothed a minuscule crease on his collar. He glanced up, locking eyes with the Fentons. “I’m here to find Daniel. Your brother, Daniel.”

The room was silent. Maddie froze, allowing Jazz to pull herself free once more. She stepped back from her parents, afraid to move any farther. Find her brother? She looked between Maddie and Jack, ignoring Vlad.

“What is he talking about?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“Jazz,” Jack said, taking another step towards her. Jazz remained where she stood, eyes frantic between her parents. “It’s not what you think. We don’t want to experiment on him or something, we just want to talk to him!” Jazz turned to look at Jack in disgust.

“Talk to him? When have you ever wanted to talk to a ghost?” she asked her father. “How do I know you’re not looking for a unique test subject?” Maddie winced, and Jazz took notice. She glanced towards her mother. “Is this all some sort of experiment to you? Were you happy when he died, knowing that he’d—”

“Never!” Maddie interrupted. Her voice thundered Jack and Vlad into silence. “Danny’s death was the worst day of my life.” She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I thought if we could find him, we could — could talk to him, and…” she trailed off and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“What, ask him how he turned the portal on? What his thoughts are on the afterlife?” Jazz exclaimed. She focused on Vlad, who seemed surprised he was noticed. “And you agreed to this?” Vlad feigned innocence.

“I’m simply providing my expert opinion,” he said, raising his hands in mock forfeit. “I just happen to be one of the only other experts.”

“Jazz, I swear, we weren’t going to experiment on him,” Jack said, breaking free of his silence. “We only wanted to see him again. We just want to talk to our son.” Son hit Jazz right in her heart. Her brother. Their son. Jazz stood back towards the wall, body tense. The clock in the hall chimed the hour — 8 A.M. She was going to be late for school.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said, grabbing her bag from the corner and pushing past her mother to the door. She paused in the doorway as if to say something, but decided against it and instead slammed the door behind her. Neither her parents nor Vlad followed.

Jazz almost missed the dull green glow in the woods on her stomp to school. She was impatiently waiting at a crosswalk when the green light caught her eye. It sparkled in the woods just beside Casper High; the same woods Jazz was standing near the first time she spoke to Danny.

No one else on the sidewalk appeared to notice the light, which made Jazz all the more curious. She stepped over the manicured hedges and took the gravel path into the woods leading parallel to the school. While not the thickest woods, they were unkempt and wild enough to feel cut off from the rest of Amity Park. It wouldn’t surprise Jazz if ghost activity were rife here.

The light seemed to move as Jazz got closer, although it was hard to be sure. The first time it moved, she brushed it off as a trick of the light. The second time, Jazz was struggling to find a palatable excuse.

This is something paranormal, she thought as she followed the light. It started getting brighter as she got closer to the school, and in the last clearing before the football field, Jazz was greeted by a cold mist. It enveloped her briefly before vanishing as Danny appeared before her. He landed on his feet and looked at Jazz expectantly. Jazz’s jaw dropped in surprise, and her anger dissipated.

“Danny!” she exclaimed, reaching out her hand. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. Do you remember me?” Danny glanced down at her hand and briefly extended his before pulling it back to his side. He gave her a curt nod.

“Not everything,” he admitted. “But I keep finding myself near you. At your house. At this place,” and he gestured towards the football field. “And you feel so familiar. Your face—I know it so well.” Jazz chuckled.

“Of course you do,” Jazz said. “We have the same nose. We have the same eyes.” Jazz gazed into Danny’s lime green eyes, seeing her own looking back. Their variation was in color only; they both had Maddie’s eyes, bright and bold and searching.

Danny’s eyes traveled from hers down her face, as if studying her features. He gave another slight nod.

“Familiar,” he said. “We are related.”

“Yes!” Jazz cried. “Yes, we are! Oh, Danny, I missed you!” Jazz threw her arms around Danny’s shoulders and pulled him in close. She was surprised at his mass and fully expected him to be transparent. His body was cool to the touch with waxy skin and a luminescent glow that left Jazz feeling fuzzy. Danny stiffened in her grip, and Jazz released him, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding Danny by his shoulders. “I’m just so happy you remember me.” He gave her a strained, sad smile.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I remember Sam and Tucker, too. Kind of, anyway. And our parents are really ghost hunters?” he asked. Jazz sighed.

“Yes, unfortunately,” she said. “And I just found out they’ve asked an old friend to help them find you.” Danny swallowed at Jazz’s tone.

“Is that… bad?” he asked. Jazz opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Her gut was telling her it was bad; her parents couldn’t be trusted. They created an unsafe environment to study an obsession, and one of their children is dead because of it.

 We just want to talk to our son.

“I don’t know yet,” Jazz answered. “So for now, I think it’s best if they don’t find you. Not until I determine it’s safe.” Danny nodded. “Make sure Sam and Tucker know that, too.”

“I’ll deliver the message for you,” he agreed. “I’ll stay hidden — unless a ghost attacks, of course.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Jazz almost didn’t notice.

“What? Danny, no! You have to stay hidden. Everything in town is fine.”

“You call this fine?” Danny said, gesturing to the nearby football field. The field was closed to pre-season practice because half of it needed to be re-turfed. The field needed re-turfing because a ghost took over meat products in the cafeteria and destroyed it in a fit of rage. Attacks like this were becoming so common, Jazz forgot how close her school had come to disaster.

"These attacks are getting worse. The ghosts coming through the portal are stronger every time,” Danny said, eyes fixed on the ruined field. “Amity’s only still standing because I’ve been fighting them off, guerrilla-style. I’ve been learning on the fly, figuring out what I can do as I go.” He turned toward a nearby tree and raised his hand, palm out. Jazz watched as he narrowed his focus, energy gathering at his fingertips—then, in a sudden burst, a bolt of green ectoplasm shot from his palm, slamming into the trunk and blasting a chunk of it away.

Jazz flinched. Danny barely blinked.

“Don’t you get it, Jazz?” he said, turning to her. “I can use these powers protect people. I can go where they go. I can move like they do. They won’t see it coming. We can finally catch them off guard.”

“Is that where you’ve been this whole time?” Jazz asked, one eyebrow quirked. “I thought you were lost in Limbo or something. Finding you took forever.” Danny responded with an exasperated look. “What? I don’t know how any of the logistics work in the dead-body-to-ghost pipeline. Our parents never talked about anything before the ‘ghost’ stage.”

“Jazz, you’re missing the point,” Danny insisted. “I can protect the city from the rogue ghosts while you, Tucker and Sam figure out a way to close that portal for good. You guys can help me by keeping me informed of any ghost activity you spot. I’ll investigate from there.”

“Danny, our parents are looking for you, right now,” Jazz said, pointing behind her for emphasis. “They are you looking for your ghost, and they want to capture you and—I don’t know, do something to you.” A headache was forming in her forehead, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to stave it off. Danny didn’t reply. “Do you understand? You have to leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” Danny insisted, squaring his shoulders. Jazz noticed that the aura around him began to brighten. “I turned the portal on. I need to stop these monsters that are coming through. Look, Jazz,” he said, finally grasping her hand, “Sam told me I can trust you. Tucker told me you’re the smartest person we know. I need your help.” Jazz took a breath.

I’m afraid, she wanted to say. I’m afraid of what will happen to you. This is all I have left of you.

This could help him move on, a smaller voice in her head countered. Then he would be safe.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Okay, Danny. If this is what you need… I’ll help you.” Jazz squeezed Danny’s hand, and to her joy, he squeezed back. It felt just like Danny, a Danny she hadn’t touched in over a year. A Danny she truly thought she would never speak to again. A Danny she thought she’d lost.

“Thank you,” Danny said. “We’ll talk again when the time is right.” He gave her hand another squeeze and vanished in a cold breeze. Jazz was left alone in the woods, her hand grasping at nothing but air.

She didn’t go to school that day.

“What does dying feel like?”

The words slipped out of Jazz’s mouth before she even realized she’d spoken. Danny, seated beside her in silence, blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t respond. He just kept staring ahead, cross-legged atop his own tombstone, hands resting loosely in his lap. Jazz immediately wanted to take the question back, to rewind the moment. But then she saw his face.

They sat in heavy silence as the minutes stretched on. The sun sank low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the cemetery. Jazz knew she’d have to head home soon. She glanced up at Danny from her spot on the grass, debating whether she should say something, give him an out, a way to leave the conversation behind.

“I mean—if you want to talk about it,” Jazz added as the minutes ticked on. “I don’t want to bring up trauma.” Danny continued to say nothing, expression unchanging. Did he go into a trance? A meditative state? Do ghosts sleep? 

“It’s…” Danny said in a soft voice, pulling Jazz from her thoughts. He tilted his head to one side, then the other, as if cracking his neck. “…awful.” Jazz swallowed. Danny looked down at his gloved hands, fingers interlocked. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting orange-pink rays across the darkening sky.

“At first, it was the pain that scared me,” Danny explained in the same soft voice. He was still staring at his hands, brows furrowed in thought. “I’ve never felt anything like it.” He flexed his left hand, wiggling his fingers in the dying light.

“The pain was… unbelievable. It felt like my skin was tearing apart,” he explained, looking up from his lap. His eyes were wistful. “But that wasn’t the worst part.” He closed his eyes and pressed his hands into the top of his tombstone, as if he were going to stand up. Instead, he leaned his head back, hair billowing in an invisible breeze.

“What was the worst part?” Jazz asked tentatively. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Realizing I was going to die,” Danny said quietly. He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh, but empty. “The pain was... so much. It felt like I could actually feel my heart stop. And then I knew, oh God, I’m going to die.” His voice broke on the last word. “It was terrifying,” he whispered. “All I could think was, please, please, I don’t want to die. But wishing doesn’t stop it. It doesn’t slow it down.” He straightened a little, wrapping his arms around himself like he was trying to hold something in.

“And then it hit me,” Danny continued. “This is it. There’s nothing after this. And all I could think was, I am so afraid.” He paused. “And then… nothing.” His eyes opened slowly, glassy and distant. “The next thing I remember, I’m in my room. But I didn’t know it was my room. It felt wrong. Empty. Like it wasn’t mine anymore.” He curled inward, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms. “And then I saw you.” Jazz wanted to say something, anything, but her voice failed her. Instead, she reached out and placed a gentle hand on his leg, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

A long moment passed in silence.

“You were the first thing I saw after death that didn’t make me feel afraid,” Danny said so softly, Jazz almost missed it. She looked up and noticed Danny watching her, peeking over the crook of his arm. His bright green eyes shimmered with unshed tears, white and luminous at the edges. “If I hadn’t seen you when I did…” His voice faltered. “I don’t know if I would’ve come back.”

That was all she needed to hear. Jazz stood and pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around his shaking form. He pressed his face into her collarbone, and his tears—weightless, glowing—vanished into the air like mist.

And for the first time, neither of them felt alone in it.