Chapter Text
“Are you all settled in?” Maddie asked. She sat on the edge of her bed, the phone call a much welcome distraction from the anxious pacing she had been doing as she waited for Danny and Vlad to finish talking. Her hopes that the conversation might get Danny to open up were probably far-fetched, but Vlad and Danny seemed to have an odd connection she didn’t quite understand.
Jazz replied with a jet-lagged weariness, “For the most part. There are some decorations I still want to set up, but that can wait until tomorrow.”
Maddie heard her bustling about her apartment and felt a swell of pride and worry. The only other time she had been on her own was a few summers at camp. Now she was in an apartment and would be gone for three months at least. If she was successful in New York, Maddie wasn’t sure she would want to come back after summer ended, or even if she should.
“Do you start tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday, Mom. So no,” Jazz replied with a light chuckle.
She was quiet for a moment, mild disorientation morphing into embarrassment. She couldn’t remember what day they had come to Vlad’s. It felt like it could’ve been a week or more, but equally like it could have been a day or two. Things had been happening so fast and now she’d lost all sense of time. As kind as Vlad had been to offer his home, if it had not been for Danny’s request, she likely wouldn’t have taken her old friend’s offer. Her routines were already silt in her hands, but now being here, she couldn’t even pretend that there would be anything left when she unclenched her fists to start anew.
“Well, what will you be doing for the weekend?” Maddie finally asked after Jazz said her name to check if their call had been disconnected.
“I’ll probably just settle in,” she replied, though her voice was weighted with something unsaid. “What about you?”
“I think Vlad mentioned something about taking us somewhere. It might be good for us to get out and about,” Maddie answered unenthusiastically.
“I think that would be really good for both of you. Oh, and don’t worry. I’ll be back down for a visit week after next.”
Maddie pinched her brows together as she tried to reason out why Jazz would want to assure her of that. As happy as she would be for any visit, it seemed like it was more important than that.
“Danny’s birthday,” Jazz supplied.
Maddie winced, both at the blunder and at Jazz’s tone. She tried to think of something to say to remedy the situation, but her mind kept coming up blank. What could be said?
“We’ll make it special this year,” she decided. “He deserves it.”
“He does,” Jazz replied, voice softening. “Hey, do you um… do you know the number for Dad’s lawyer? Or his name?”
Taken aback by the unexpected question, Maddie fumbled. “I’m not sure. I can find it. I’ve got to go through some of that paperwork, anyway. Why, honey?”
“I was just gonna look him up. Just to see, you know, who would be representing him,” Jazz answered, quick and clumsy.
“I meet with the lawyer on Monday,” Maddie said, shifting where she sat on the edge of her bed as a thought nagged at her. “You probably just need his name though… if you’re just wanting to look him up.”
“I mean, I figured the number would help narrow it down, but you’re right, I can probably just find him by his name.” The answer was again blurted, as though she wanted to end the subject quickly.
“Jazz,” Maddie said, severity in her tone. “Have you talked to him? To Jack”
“What? No,” Jazz insisted defensively. “I was just curious.”
“Okay… but if you wanted to, I would prefer to come with you. Just in case.”
“I haven’t talked to him,” Jazz repeated. “Besides, what can he do in jail?”
“If he says anything important, I’d want to be able to give that information to the lawyer.”
“That sounds a little duplicitous...” she suggested, and Maddie could hear a hesitance through the phone that caused her to pull it away from her face, stunned at the naivety of the comment.
“Jazz, I do not want you talking to him. Do you understand me?”
“I know what he did, but it seems like entrapment to do that to him while he’s already in jail,” Jazz explained, tapering off near the end of her sentence. “I just mean-”
“Have you said anything like this to Danny?” Maddie interrupted.
Jazz hesitated and stumbled over the beginning of a sentence. Now Maddie understood why Danny’s goodbye to her had been so stiff and unlike the two of them. She had just attributed it to the cold detachedness Danny had been giving everyone lately.
“We are on Danny’s side, Jazz. He needs us. He’s counting on us to be there for him.”
There was a heavy silence and when Jazz finally spoke, it was more strained than Maddie had ever heard her sound.
“I have always been on Danny’s side. Always. And always will be on his side. No matter what has happened and how much he’s l-” she stopped herself, picking up quickly so Maddie could not interrupt her again. “I believe him as much as I always do. And whether he’s saying anything or not, I’m always listening to him. And for you , of all people, to imply that I wouldn’t… ”
There was more there than the sum of what she was saying, but the weight of her shortcomings rendered Maddie speechless despite her questions and concerns.
“I let Danny down,” Jazz continued. “Something happened and I missed it. I won’t make that mistake again. I hope you won’t, either.”
Maddie swallowed hard, excuses and defenses teetering on the edge of her tongue, but she held them back. None of them were adequate. Part of her also hoped that if she stayed quiet, Jazz might explain some of what she was keeping from her.
“I have to go,” Jazz said. “I’ll see you for Danny’s birthday.”
She hung up.
Maddie dropped her arm to her lap, a wave of exhaustion trying to wash over her, but undeserved anger held it back. She stood from the bed, stretching her arms and shoulders and looking around for something mentally occupying. She had messily unpacked her bags, clothes both in and out of the closet. Little gadgets she’d brought along to tinker with in times of boredom sat unappealing on the desk. She was normally more organized, but she’d had a hard time finding the motivation to make the room livable. Besides, it was easier to repack this way, once the time came.
She felt practically jittery with the need for distraction, but as nothing here seemed to spark her interest, she stepped out onto the balcony connected to her room. It looked like Vlad had given her one of the master bedrooms due to the size and features, but it somehow felt less comfortable that way. It felt more like she was on a ritzy vacation she didn’t deserve.
The balcony was nice, though. The breeze gave her a sense of freedom the confines of her oversized bedroom did not, and being able to look out onto the natural beauty of Vlad’s estate increased that feeling. She leaned over the railing and breathed in the fresh air. It helped some, but she still felt a desperate need to do something.
She thought maybe she could look over the paperwork the lawyer gave her, but doubted she had the focus.
She looked back into her room dismally, when something drew her attention from above. She might not have noticed if it hadn't been pulsing, but the green glow emanated above her like a beacon.
The jitteriness swelled, but this time with excitement and familiarity. She grasped at her belt, only just remembering that what little equipment she had brought with her was mostly packed. She rushed to her dresser, where she had deposited most of her ghost hunting equipment, and grabbed the thermos. Some research would be an excellent distraction.
Using the railing, she hopped up and grasped the roof ledge. It was stable enough, so she pulled herself up. The tiles were slick once the roof inclined, but not impassable. She crept along, watching the green light get brighter and fade like a flickering candle. Once over one of the higher peaks, she finally spotted it.
Phantom was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, knees pulled up to his chest and playing with an ectoplasmic ball in between his hands, letting it pulse softly.
A ghost was one thing, but Phantom , in Wisconsin of all the unlikely places, was another entirely. She regretted leaving behind her baton, but she supposed the thermos would still be effective. She carefully rested it on the peak of the roof to steady it and uncapped it.
He must have heard her, head snapping in her direction and scrambling to his feet as a hand rose to quickly swipe at the corners of his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her, voice constricted in a way that further confirmed her suspicions. The shock became layered with the audacity of the question.
“I think I should be asking that question,” she retorted. She still had the thermos pointed at him, but she tried to make a point of not brandishing it. Under other circumstances, she would have been giddy at the chance to snatch him up then and there, but as it was, she was away from her lab and would not have access to it for three months, nor did she have a more permanent place to store Phantom. More important, however, was that a unique behavioral examination had just presented itself, and her curiosity surged at the unbelievable opportunity.
She didn’t miss the sniffle he tried to conceal with a quick cough, straightening to compose himself. It was too late, though. She watched him fixedly, taking mental notes, careful not to scare him away. In all her years of studying ghosts, her curiosity in the field had never peaked as much as seeing one cry for the first time.
“I’m just stargazing,” he replied, apparently oblivious to how useless the answer was.
“In Wisconsin?”
She watched his eyes grow slightly bigger, dart around in a panicked sort of way. Despite the thermos pointed at him, she wasn’t close enough to ensure that he couldn’t get away from her (not that that was necessarily what she wanted out of the encounter anyway), so she decided to keep him engaged in conversation and ease her way closer.
“You’re a long way from your haunt... “ she took a faux-shambling step forward.
“I don’t 'haunt' Amity Park,” he groused, folding his arms.
His demeanor shifted sharply, shoulders rolling back and standing up straighter, as though her comment had somehow been threatening. It was a curious response. Other ghosts had no particular qualms about such descriptions. It offered more questions than answers, but in particular, it had her concerned.
“So you haunt something else?” she queried, sidling closer.
He looked at her sidelong, narrowing his eyes as he gauged the question. Seeing her as a physical threat was certainly something she expected, but unlike other ghosts, Phantom seemed to find information to be equally threatening, if not more so. It was among the long list of things that made this specter particularly intriguing.
“Look, I wasn’t looking for any trouble, okay? I just wanted some quiet. Can’t you just…” he stopped, taming a hitch he hadn’t quite caught in time to hide from her. He turned his head away, continuing, slightly more softly, “Can’t you just cut me a break? Just this once?”
The sincerity with which he pleaded was sent down a conveyor belt of scrutinizing analysis as her mind tried to determine some hidden motive or drive, but as was typical with Phantom, his patterns and obsessions were often veiled with emotional mimicry. It was frustrating, to say the least, especially when determining the same factors in other ghosts was often as simple as asking them; most glad to shriek their drives and desires with the authority of a moron.
No matter his true meaning, she couldn’t let him leave yet. There were still answers she wanted and studying to do. Calculating her next move carefully, she lowered her grip on the thermos and sighed. “Some quiet sounds nice.”
His shoulders relaxed, arms slowly unfolding as he looked her up and down.
She stepped forward, watching him through her peripherals for any clue that he might flee, and sat down on the roof near where he had been.
While he didn’t seem skittish, he certainly appeared uncomfortable. His head swiveled left and right as though he were checking to see if anyone else was watching, brows pressed together in indecisive consternation.
She looked up at him, “You’ve got your break, Phantom,” she told him, trying to seal the deal, and patted the roof. “As long as you don’t mind a little company.”
“Uh…” He looked around again, eyes restless as he cautiously sat down not far from her. “Okay…”
She stared at him, just a few feet away from her, only ever having been this close to him one other time, and she’d been so busy trying to catch him, she hadn’t taken the time to really visually evaluate him. She knew he was young, of course, but it only seemed to strike her now. Young ghosts weren’t terribly common. Another of Phantom’s fascinatingly unique traits. Except now that an opportunity to assess him up close had arisen, she found it inexplicably uncomfortable.
It could have just been a sympathetic response to how uncomfortable he seemed to be feeling under her scrutinizing gaze.
“You came a long way for some quiet,” she commented, looking away.
“If I could’ve picked somewhere closer, I would’ve,” he replied, bitterness making his voice sound gravelly.
“You’re not here intentionally?” she asked, wincing internally at the rapidness of her question.
To her dismay, he pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his arms atop them. “This isn’t exactly the quiet I had in mind,” he complained.
“Quiet can be risky.” The words spilled forth from her rather unexpectedly and her mind raced to reroute. If she wanted him to feel empathized with, she needed to measure her questions and answers carefully. She probably should have eaten more at dinner; maybe she would have been more on top of her game.
“What does that mean?” he asked with the lackluster of one of her kids getting a lecture.
Damn. She had opened a door she hadn’t intended and wasn’t sure she could backtrack; the forked decision between honesty and creativity both lead down dangerous paths.
“I don’t usually enjoy the quiet,” she decided, mentally crossing her fingers that vague honesty would suffice. “It is nice up here though. I imagine flying on nights like this is a uniquely quiet experience.”
He looked up at the stars, lips pressing into a thin line. “Usually.”
“What kind of quiet were you looking for?” she asked.
He shifted a little, she noticed, away from her. “Solitude.”
“Aren’t you normally alone?” she pried.
He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped abruptly, jaw working as he considered either his answer or her question, she wasn’t sure.
“W-well... When I’m not, it’s usually not because someone threatened me to keep them company,” he countered angrily, dropping his head onto his arms; the key in the lock of his defensive posture.
“I didn’t threaten you,” she defended.
“‘As long as you don’t mind the company’,” he quoted, eyes trailing past her to the thermos still in her hand. “I get a break as long as you get to grill me, right? Why don’t you just get to the point and ask what you want to ask so I can leave?”
She raised her hand in preparation to refute him, but realized he had her. She had no intention of letting him leave this roof until she’d gotten to interview him; she was just surprised that he had caught on so quickly.
“Just because I have questions doesn’t mean I’m a threat to you. I don’t want you to leave, that’s true, but we don’t have to be enemies right now,” she replied, looking down at the roof tiles and turning the thermos over in her hand.
“I don’t think you’re an enemy. Never have,” he replied, that defensiveness bubbling up again.
She was surprised to hear that. Considering how persistently she’d hunted him, she would’ve thought he’d consider her one of, if not the most, threatening of his foes. Part of her was almost insulted, but she withheld the judgment and inquired, “Oh no?”
“No.”
“I think you might be underestimating me,” she said.
He shook his head. “No. I think you’re misinterpreting me .”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed in frustration. “This is the first time you’ve ever had a chance to talk to me, but that’s not really what you want to do, is it? You decided a bunch of things about me before you even asked because you don’t really want to hear what I have to say. That’s your problem. You don’t listen.”
She found herself feeling further insulted. What did this phantom know about her? He’d just agreed that this was the first time they’d really ever spoken, so how could he make such a strange assumption about her?
At least this was going closer to a direction she was comfortable with. Now that he was agitated, he should start following the usual patterns; ghosts tended to divulge more when they were upset.
“I would like to hear what you have to say, Phantom,” she replied, finger fidgeting with the button on the thermos. “What assumptions have I made about you that I’m wrong about?”
She really thought that would do it; he would dive into a long-winded monologue about everything that makes him great and special–the way ghosts tended to do when she opened that door–but to her surprise, he turned a dry, irritated look at her.
“Well I’m not an idiot for one thing,” he said, glaring at the thermos. “I can’t even begin to explain to you how much I’m not in the mood for this, so unless you actually plan to use that thing on me, I think I’m done with company and quiet.”
For some reason, this angered her more. “I’m only asking questions, Phantom. Is it such a bad thing to answer? Why are you the only ghost that doesn’t want to share anything about itself?”
“For you, for one thing,” he snapped at her, green eyes boring into her for just a split second before sharply disengaging, as though that one look had been an effort. “Not that that matters.”
She blinked at him. “What do you mean for me?”
“For you, for–for everybody! I–I thought it was for everyone, but maybe…I–” he said, throwing his arms in exasperation, but there was a falter in his voice that wasn’t missed by her. He grabbed a handful of his white locks and started chewing his lip, an odd little tick for a ghost to adopt. “Maybe I am stupid…”
Maddie felt completely lost. It was odd, for all extents and purposes, Phantom had finally fallen into as close to a monologuing rant as she'd ever heard out of him, but what he was saying was basically gibberish. She had run into ghosts that could speak cryptically, but that wasn’t what Phantom was doing. He was being guarded, protective about the words he chose to say.
“I’m so stupid,” he said, softly, and suddenly he was dropping into a crouch, making himself look small. Eerie green eyes stared pensively out into the dark trees surrounding them, glowing a little more dimly than she thought they usually did.
Curiosity morphed into shock as he once again appeared to fight back tears, eyes pinching sharply and turning his head away from her to wipe them on his shoulder. Tears. He was almost crying again. It was fascinating, yet some small part of her thought to change the subject. She wasn’t sure where that feeling was coming from. After all, this is exactly what she had been hoping for. Why was she feeling hesitant to move forward?
“Doesn’t seem like whatever you’re doing is working for you,” she said, turning her head away from him to look out idly onto Vlad’s estate as well; a small offering of space for him.
He laughed humorlessly. “It’s not, but… it’s kind of too late at this point.” His features hardened, closer to an expression she was familiar with seeing on him. He unfurled from himself, resting his arms on his knees in a resigned kind of ease.
“So what my daughter says about you is true?” she asked, prodding experimentally, “She tells me you keep Amity Park safe.”
“I try,” he replied listlessly.
“Hard to do from here, I’d imagine,” she commented pointedly.
He looked at her sidelong, eyes flicking to the thermos, then away from her. “Hard to do anywhere.”
She scowled and decided to abandon the tactful approach. “Why are you here, Phantom?”
He licked his lips, pinched his brows into a wince, then replied without looking at her. “I’m doing what I’m always doing; trying to protect somebody.”
“And who might that be?”
“People,” he responded despondently.
“It worries me that you won’t answer my questions directly. You do understand how suspicious I find it that you’re here at the same time as me?”
He looked at her, frowning. “I guess I’d be suspicious, too, if I thought you were an enemy,” he shrugged, “If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here keeping you company.”
She bristled, irritated that he was still dodging her, but also feeling somehow like he’d shamed her, which was ridiculous. He was the one who shouldn’t be here. How dare he make her feel bad for calling it out.
He seemed to sense the change, wincing at himself. “Look, I get this looks weird, but I promise, I’m really just trying to protect people. Can’t you just take my word for it?”
She stared at him hard, scrutinizing his pleading face.
“It matters to you that much what people think of you?”
He looked confused, face contorting as he tried to sort out what she meant. “What?”
“I understand your image as a hero is important to you, but that’s not why you’re here. You wouldn’t be here, so close to a ghost hunter, unless something was driving you to be.”
His expression settled on anger and she almost felt relieved. An angry ghost was predictable.
“I don’t know how else to say you’re not an enemy before that sinks in for you. Why won’t you listen to me?”
“I’m trying to understand why you’re here,” she returned hotly.
“No. You’re not. You’re hearing the things I’m saying and you’re filtering it through what you know about ghosts. But even you said I’m different. So why do you keep treating me like I’m not?”
She inhaled a little, blinking as she thought about it.
He turned away from her, resuming his curled up position.
As much as she hated to admit it, the accusation stung as badly as it did because he was right. This wasn’t a conversation she’d be having with another ghost. Any other ghost would have still been wrapped up in their own monologue; it wouldn’t be analyzing her.
This wouldn’t be the first time she’d missed something due to her own arrogance.
Stiffly, she laid the thermos in her lap, noticed his brow rise in surprise at the gesture.
“You’re not wrong…” she said hesitantly, despite the extreme distaste the confession gave her. “I admit I’ve… I’ve had a hard time studying you. As far as I can see, you’re an outlier in every respect.”
He didn’t say anything; just kept watching her cautiously, like he thought she was laying a trap.
“I will… concede… that I’m not an enemy to you and… offer you the same courtesy.”
“So we can… start from scratch?” he asked hopefully.
She hesitated, feeling a little exposed, but eventually, stiffly nodded.
His eyes drooped thoughtfully, then carefully met her gaze, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. “You wanna shake hands or something?”
Her brows pinched together, surprised at the switch in tone, but he looked almost as uncomfortable as her and it struck her curiously that he seemed to be trying to get her to lighten up.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“How about… in the interest of starting anew…”
He perked, turning his head to her, the green light of his eyes shining a little bit brighter.
“Why were you crying?”
His jaw fell open a little and he breathed in hard, and she briefly thought he was going to shut down on her again, but instead, he shook his head.
“I wasn’t…” he trailed off, licking his lips and sighing resignedly. “I didn’t think you saw that.”
She waited, deciding that giving him time was better than pressing. She was invested in the idea of a new method of study, and while she was anxious to ask questions, it seemed, already, that Phantom was responding to this mode of inquiry better. It seemed it really did matter to him how others perceived him.
He swallowed hard. “I uh… there’s a ghost I fought that has kind of made it his mission to make my–ah–afterlife hell… It’s been working.”
“And this other ghost is why you’re in Wisconsin?” she asked, coming back to one of the more concerning topics on her mind.
“Basically,” he affirmed, then asked, “Why are you here?”
Once again feeling like she was on her back foot in this conversation, she floundered for a moment as she tried to decide how she wanted to answer that question and before she really realized what she was doing, she found herself just saying the truth, “I made… a mistake. More like a series of mistakes. I’m trying to make amends and moving here was part of that.”
“I… actually meant here–” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “--on the roof, but…”
She let out a small, flustered laugh. “Oh. I came up here because I noticed some ghost activity.”
“But aren’t you–you know… Why ghost hunt if you don’t have your lab or anything?”
“It was just a means of distraction.”
“Oh,” he said, tone dropping with what she thought might have been guilt, but surely not.
“I don’t usually have such a hard time compartmentalizing,” she continued unconsciously. She wondered what time it was and worried Danny may have already gone to bed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She gave him a curious expression. “What for?”
“For distracting you,” he answered quietly.
She shrugged, noting the strange weight to the statement, but she wasn’t sure what it could be.
A silence fell between them, soft wind filling the space gently with its whispers as it carried the smell of pines and dew. It was fresh and unfamiliar.
“I hate Wisconsin,” she said aloud.
He huffed a tired laugh, apparently sharing the sentiment with a bitterness that seemed to match her own. “Why? Not a fan of cheese?”
Her expression softened slightly at the joke, yet her jaw remained set. She ought to have felt some encouragement that he seemed to be behaving more like himself, but as it was, she could no longer keep her focus on Phantom.
“If I could’ve picked somewhere closer, I would’ve, too,” she replied.
Phantom’s smile faded. “You don’t want to be here?”
She wrung her hands together. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I need to be here.” She picked up the thermos, ignoring the slight tensing in the ghost, and stretched a little. “And you’ve been a helpful distraction, but I need to get back.”
He watched her, relaxing slightly again as the thermos remained loose in her grip.
“I… appreciate the company. Enjoy your solitude,” she said, feeling suddenly tired as she started heading back.
“Thanks,” Phantom replied.
She felt his eyes on her as she started walking off.
“--for the company,” he added, loud enough for her to catch.
She turned to look back at him, but he had either turned invisible or flown off. A little pang of regret hit her, but it was the remorse of a habit, an unscratched itch. Capturing a ghost, even Phantom, wasn’t amongst her current priorities.