Chapter Text
“I could arrange it quite easily,” Vlad said over dinner, engaged in conversation with the last person Danny would’ve expected.
“I-I don’t know,” Jazz replied sheepishly. “I mean, I could probably find somewhere to intern here in Wisconsin.”
“Certainly,” Vlad agreed, “But you would lose the prestige the New York branch can offer. While my business does secondarily operate here, it will not look nearly as impressive on your resume, I can promise you.”
She seemed to agree, since she didn’t argue, but hesitated all the same. “But we’ll be going back to Amity Park after the summer…”
Danny’s fork screeched across his plate as he jabbed at a piece of duck too aggressively. It was all he could do not to pipe in and support her reasoning, even if he didn’t exactly agree with the why.
“Jasmine, you are set to graduate a year early. You’re gifted, like your mother, and should start preparing for your future. It’s never too early, and at the pace you’re currently going, getting some intern experience would do wonders for your academic future,” Vlad reasoned.
“But now just doesn’t seem like a good time,” Jazz resisted.
“He’s right, though.”
Both Danny and Jazz looked to their mother.
“It’ll never feel like the timing is right,” Maddie said. “There’s always going to be something that feels more important, but your future is what’s important, sweetie. You have about a year and a half before it’s time to start college. Having that kind of intern experience could get you into the best college in the country.”
Danny missed the piece of duck altogether this time, so he gave up on it. He was liable to bite the tip of his tongue off if he tried eating right now anyway.
Jazz unconsciously glanced Danny’s way.
Vlad was the only one to notice.
Still, Maddie’s words seemed to resonate. She looked down at her lap, clearly turning the idea over in her head.
Small talk resumed between Maddie and Vlad as the meal progressed, with Jazz chiming in only occasionally, which was what was most worrisome. Her usually opinionated interjections were at a minimum as she stared hard at her food, deeply considering their earlier conversation.
Danny watched her, silent for his own conflicted reasons. Guilt gnawed at his empty stomach, frustration shook his muscles unconsciously. When he wasn't staring at his sister, aware of the excitement and guilt she was trying to quell, he was glaring at Vlad who either didn't notice or didn't care. It could have easily been both.
After dinner, all Danny wanted to do was disappear into his room and continue sulking, but he barely had a chance to decide if he would be doing so on his bed or at his desk when he heard a knock on his door. He considered ignoring it. No matter who it was, he wasn’t up for company. The second knock, however, was timid and sparked a guilt that he couldn’t ignore.
He opened the door to Jazz’s anxious face.
“Hey, Danny.”
“Hey,” he said, “Uh… what’s up?”
“Could I come in? Just for a minute?” she asked, rubbing her arm uncomfortably.
He absolutely didn’t want her to come in.
“Sure,” he said, stepping aside for her.
Her eyes wandered over his still packed belongings and the sight seemed to dishearten her. She turned sharply, as though she thought to change her mind. Danny’s position close to the door must have discouraged that idea and she took a deep, self-reassuring breath.
“How are you?”
Danny decided to relieve them both.
“Come on, Jazz,” he said lightheartedly.
She looked at him uncertainly, but she dropped the hand gripping her other arm. “What?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it? I bet the plants love this rain!” He paused to let the joke land. At her sheepish smile, he softened and asked, “Now that that's out of the way… what's up?”
“Sorry, I just don’t know how to…” she rolled her hands around in front of herself as she struggled for the words she needed, but trailed off with another smile. “I just wanted to ask you about what we talked about at dinner.”
His smile dropped a little, though he tried concealing it behind an itch.
“I just wanted to know what you thought,” she finished, staring at him sidelong.
He wandered over to his bed and sat down, hanging his head slightly. “I don’t-I mean... does what I think matter?”
She looked down at her fingers. “It matters to me.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Either he convinced her to stay, trapped along with him and their mother directly under Vlad’s influence, or he convinced her leaving was a good idea, at which point she would be under the influence of whatever intern position Vlad gave her--outside of the reach of help. Part of him wanted her not to go specifically because Vlad seemed to want her to, but was that just because she wasn’t part of his vision of a perfect family, or was it something else?
“Well what do you want to do?” he asked.
That guilty expression washed over her features again.
He nodded in understanding. Maybe leaving would keep her safe. Maybe Vlad would just forget about her.
“Can I ask you something else?”
He raised his head, resting his arms on his thighs.
“How long… how long was he…?”
Danny’s eyes grew wide in surprise, but he didn’t try to hide it. He allowed his tight gripping of his blankets and the turning of his head to be seen by her, hoping the obvious discomfort with the subject would be enough to deter it.
He was more surprised when it only seemed to strengthen her resolve. She approached softly, sitting near the edge of the bed to be close while still respecting his space.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted.
“Please? I need to know,” she asked again, a hint of desperation in the pitch of her voice.
“Why? What difference does it make?” he asked, looking up at her as he leaned his body back.
“It makes a difference. Please?” she pressed, though it remained gentle.
He couldn’t imagine what difference that information could make for her, but moreover, he absolutely did not want to offer any details to anyone, much less Jazz. He had gotten good at lying, but she paid more attention than everyone else. She wasn’t interested in what she wanted to hear. She would dig at her own expense, as long as it was true.
“I don’t know… a few months ago?” he replied, watching her reaction carefully.
Her brows rose a little and he wondered if she had made the connection he wanted her to. He figured, if she was trying to figure out a timeline, he could bury his secret in it. If she saw him acting strange after the accident, she would blame it on the lie instead.
She seemed slightly surprised that he answered, nodding and pausing to consider. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Or mom?”
His expression hardened. “I thought you just wanted to know what I thought about the whole intern thing. Why are you interrogating me?” He didn’t want to be so confrontational, but he couldn’t give her an inch. There was no stopping her from psychoanalyzing him, but he at least needed to keep her looking in one direction.
She backpedaled at the accusation, reaching out for him as she reassured, “Oh, no, I’m not trying to interrogate you! I’m just trying to understand.”
“What’s there to understand?” he asked tautly, pulling away from her touch. “You saw what happened. That’s not good enough for you?”
Her face dropped as she wrestled with the confusion of having lost complete control of the conversation and her voice took on a placating, desperate tone. “That’s not what I meant...”
“Then what do you mean? Do you want to get a closer look at this?” he asked, brandishing his slung arm at her. “Do you want me to go into more detail?”
“No, Danny! I–I just-”
“What, Jazz? What will make you feel better about it?” he pushed, frustration bubbling out of him faster than he'd meant. She didn't deserve him shouting at her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself, despite his mind begging him to before he said or did something he would regret.
But she couldn't know the truth.
“Danny!” She actually shouted at him. He had never heard her do that before, but it only pushed him further into an uncontrolled spiral.
“What do you want from me?! What about this situation isn’t fitting into your perfect little world?!”
“It doesn’t add up, Danny!” she finally shouted, gasping at her own words.
His anger dissipated, replaced with a pang of panic that forced him into silence. “What are you talking about?” he asked, fearing a tremor had snuck its way into his tone.
“I… It's just… Danny, I don’t understand!” she confessed, slumping on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that I… It’s just… Why you, Danny?”
He stared at her, not yet sure what she meant and not daring to speak until his throat stopped feeling so closed.
“Why didn’t he hurt me, too?”
He was stunned. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected anyone to question that aspect of his lie. It seemed obvious and reasonable enough to him, but he should have guessed she might do this, and not just because she was the smart one; she just always saw more in him than was there.
She gazed at him, looking as nervous as he was, as expectant as she was terrified. Danny knew his lie would start crumbling the longer he stayed quiet and, Jazz being Jazz, she would see right through him.
“Why would he hurt his favorite?”
She blinked at him, as stunned by the statement as he himself was for having made it. He hadn’t planned it; it had spilled from his lips almost automatically, but now that it had, it seemed he couldn’t stop the expulsions.
“W-what?” she asked in shock.
“Don’t act so surprised. We all know you’re his favorite. You always were. And why wouldn’t you be? You’re his little girl. Your grades are perfect. You’re living up to the Fenton family name. You're on the honor roll and you're gonna be Valedictorian and you'll end up on the cover of that women of science magazine you love. But me?” He held out his good arm and let it drop limply, felt his throat closing again and swallowed hard to clear it. “I’m his failure of a son. I’m the only idiot in a family of geniuses. I'm the only one in a family who knows martial arts or played sports who’s so clumsy and weak I crash my scooter every week. I'm the only one in our family tree who can't break 5’3. I can’t–” he voice stumbling over a heavy lump in his throat, corners of his eyes stinging. He tried to bury it, focus on the heat in his skin, but the more he ignored it, the more easily his eyes seemed to water, “I can’t even get the trash out on time. I'm the family’s first and only loser. ” He ducked his head, clenching his teeth and quickly swiping at his eyes, pretending they were angry tears.
She was staring at him, mouth ajar in both shock and alarm. She looked like she wanted to stop him, but either didn’t know how or felt unable.
"So why would he hurt you ?" he continued. "You don't... you don't deserve it."
Silence filled the space between them, but he didn’t dare look at her. He didn’t want to see her agree with him.
Jazz blinked hard and took a purposeful breath. "Danny… there is nothing you could ever do that would make it okay for anyone to hurt you," she said with an intensity and severity that he rarely heard from her. “You are not a loser. You’re not clumsy. None of that is true and I’m so angry at whatever made you think that you were–I can’t even begin to imagine why you would believe that–but it doesn’t even matter, because no one deserves what was done to you.”
He pinched his brows, avoiding her eyes. She usually had this accidentally patronizing tone, especially when she was trying to be taken seriously, but now she almost sounded like their mom. Her voice was steady and fully sincere. She meant it.
He swallowed hard, wanting to be comforted, but if she knew what he’d done… what he was still doing…
He forgot to mention he was a liar, too.
"I’m not trying to interrogate you, Danny. I just want to help,” she said, reaching out for him.
"Do you?" he questioned coldly.
She recoiled. "What do you mean?"
"This isn't about you being worried about me, is it? This is about your ego."
He felt her expression turn insulted, but it hurt more that he could see confusion behind it. "My ego? Danny, listen to yourself! This isn't like you. None of this is!"
He scoffed mockingly. "Oh yeah, because you know every little thing about me. It must just kill you that you didn't see it. That's supposed to be your thing, right? Seeing all of the subconscious psychological stuff behind the family. But you missed this."
Now she was just as angry as he was. "This isn't about my ego! But I know you and I know Dad. And I know that..."
"That what? Go ahead. Say it."
She took a deep, calming breath. "You've been hurt...”
"No. Say what you really want to say. You think I'm a liar."
"I don't know what to think!" she yelled at him. "How am I supposed to believe you about anything? Do you know how many lies I've caught you in these last six months? But I haven't said anything because-” she stopped before she said something, quickly recovering, “Because I thought you'd tell me on your own, but instead you suddenly got distant and started disappearing all the time and you–you–y-you shut me out! And that was like six months ago, but Dad? Dad didn’t start acting strange until three months ago. So I know I don't know everything that's going on, but that's only because you’re not telling me everything!"
"Obviously you never saw Dad acting strange! You never saw that side of him! He only showed it to me!" he shouted, his throat burning with excessive use. "You missed it! Get over it!"
"I can't, Danny!"
"Why won't you just believe me?!"
"Because!"
"Why?!"
"Because I failed you!"
He stopped; his turn to be shocked.
"Do you know why I'm constantly analyzing our family? Because I thought that I was the only one paying attention. I thought Mom and Dad were just letting us fall by the wayside. They've just been so caught up in all the ghost stuff ever since they got that portal running. I thought I could be what you needed. But…" she stopped, putting a hand over her mouth to try and contain her emotions.
He swallowed hard. He had never understood why she was on his case all the time. He had assumed she was just nosy.
The revelation couldn't have come at a worse time.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and no amount of scowling seemed to make them go away. He felt them slide hot down his cheek and he quickly brushed it aside, chest aching with self hatred.
"Well you missed this," he snapped, spitting venom. With a glare he could hardly believe was his own, he ducked his head and clenched the covers of his bed, muttering finally, “Get out.”
He felt the bed tremble, heard a sniffle as she stood, but he kept his head buried until he heard the door slam, but couldn't find the will to move even after she was gone.
His arm ached from his whole body tensing and he felt like he was going to shake right out of his skin. He was either going to break something or he was going to break down.
Stiffly, he snatched a lamp from his bedside table, transformed into Phantom, only gritting his teeth at the pain that accompanied it before phasing through the roof to break something.