So, here we are again.

I owe you guys a huge apology. When I started this story, I did NOT plan it out, and I think it showed. It was, to put it mildly, a clusterf*ck. It had some admittedly good ideas, which I will not be forgetting, but it was going absolutely nowhere. So, I have reworked it. I have a plot, a main character, and tie-ins to my Marvel fics. There is actual structure now. As an apology, I'm giving you a huge first chapter, linking Danny's world with the MCU. It's very similar to the old version at the start, but it definitely diverges from there.

It's told entirely from Danny's POV, as a 23-year old unemployed husband-to-be during and after the Battle of Manhattan. After this, however, it's a time jump of a little over a year, and a permanent switch to Danielle (called Ellie by now) as our main character.

With this story, I'm officially opening my Marvel stories back up, specifically the Paranormal branch. Given Ellie is a younger hero, she'll be tying into First Contact eventually, which should be pretty cool, once I also rework that story to make perfect sense.

So, sorry. I fudged up. I really do hope you enjoy this new story, though!

I thought I'd beaten the system, I really did.

I'd been a superhero for six years, ever since I got zapped by the Portal at the tender, puberty filled age of fourteen. I'd swayed public opinion to the point even Vlad couldn't pull off a smear campaign anymore without receiving serious flack from even his staunchest supporters. I'd gotten so good at fighting the other ghosts, that they rarely attacked anymore, and those that did, were either out of a weird desire to catch up with me and banter, or to escape the boredom of their afterlives. Even my grades got much better, as a result.

I'd managed to avoid being dissected molecule by molecule by my overzealous parents when I finally revealed my hybrid status, even though we didn't quite see eye to eye on my wish to keep the ghost side for good. I'd let go of my secret identity in front of the whole town, to roaring applause. And I'd managed to grow closer to my friends, gaining new ones in the process.

The scantily-clad, dark haired woman sprawled in our bed, wearing the onyx marriage band, complete with simulated diamonds made from ghost ice? You might say we were even closer.

So, when Sam and I got engaged and left for New York, entrusting Amity Park's safety to Dani's capable hands, plus Valerie and my parents, I really thought I'd beaten the system. Y'know, that system where apparently, the hero had to suffer for the rest of his natural life, and, in my case, possibly the afterlife. Where I had to keep my ID secret to avoid the dangers I wouldn't be able to protect my loved ones from. Where I would be roped into working together with secret agencies and other superheroes to save the world against a major threat that I would not be able to stop by myself.

But no. No such thing. Just when I was settling down, and preparing for job hunting, aliens came from a portal in the sky above Stark Tower.

It all began on a monday, approximately 9 years after becoming Phantom.

Much like 95% of humanity (the mostly sane part of the population), I hate mondays. They're usually lengthy, tiresome, and filled with fights to the death.

At least mine are, ok?

The day humanity got its "Are we alone in the universe" question answered was pretty much nondescript. Summer was barely beginning, making the streets of New York unbearably hot, even for someone with a lower core temperature. Sam and I lived in a weird penthouse/storage room in some skyscraper I'd never bothered to learn the name of. Officially, I was renting an apartment down in Queens, but since my fianceé's folks had been nice enough to give her such lofty accommodations, we'd agreed it would be a waste for only one person to occupy the space.

Sleeping together was definitely a bonus. And don't you dare judge, 'cause we were both consenting adults and all that jazz.

In any case, Sam and I were on a coffee run when we heard it; an otherworldly boom coming from the sky, somewhere near Grand Central station. Sam immediately looked at me with some concern, because the sound was not unlike the one that, say, a portal to a certain, ectoplasm filled alternate dimension might make. A quick glance at the sky confirmed my fears, as what could only be described as a hole in the sky began disgorging hundreds upon hundreds of little flying dots, trading shots (and big damn explosions) with an unidentified figure amongst them.

Did I mention I thought I'd beaten the system?

Sam was looking as well, and though there was some concern in her eyes, it was overwhelmed by that calm sense of duty one gained after years of selflessly protecting others at risk to your own health. We traded glances, and we both knew what to do.

She began using her trademark 'protest mode' voice, herding the patrons and staff of the Starbucks we were at, guiding them to a safe place as soon as the shots began landing on the ground, flipping cars over and generally causing mayhem. I thanked my lucky stars that hipsters were apparently immune to bathroom breaks as I ducked into the restroom, and willed my cold core to wash over my being.

I hadn't turned into Phantom in a while. It would be a total lie to say that I didn't feel elated at the power rush. As an admittedly powerful hybrid, I had access to most of my ghostly abilities when in human form. They were much weaker, and I couldn't use more than one or two at most at a time, but the fact I could use them at all was useful when I wasn't trying to draw attention, or didn't need many powers at once.

It wasn't one of those times, sadly. Turning invisible, I shot up, letting momentum take me to the skies. Or, at least, through the ceiling.

I phased out of the building effortlessly, sparing a glance at the sort-of-controlled chaos Sam was trying to manage. I grinned at her creative use of boiling water and ice cubes to get people moving. Poetic, really.

Climbing altitude I finally identified the figure fighting back against the invaders. Even though I wasn't exactly 'up to date' with news and trends (it comes from living in a small town most of your life), it was almost impossible to live in the western world, and not know who Iron Man was. That revelation speech on Youtube was the stuff of legends. It also didn't hurt my chances that my best friend was Tony Stark's number one fan. Seriously, the day Tuck traded in his last PDA (holy crud, was Amity tech-deprived) for a StarkPhone, I was seriously afraid he'd spontaneously combust from sheer happiness.

Iron Man wove in and around the alien-looking sleds, a sleek, red-gold engine of destruction spouting particle blasts, missiles, and laser beams. For an idle second, I wished I looked even half as cool as the man in the armor. Then I remembered I kind of had my work cut out for me.

As you might have been able to tell, I was trying not to draw any attention to myself. Even if I hadn't wanted a nicely deserved break from constant heroics, it wasn't my job to be the bright and shiny target. The way I saw it, Iron Man had most of the enemy's attention, and was trying to keep it that way to avoid any collateral damage where possible. I realized my job was almost exactly the opposite. I smirked, because if there was something the ghost in me loved, it was messing with people's minds.

Deciding my 'induce chaos' plan was my best possible contribution, I dived for the nearest flier, willing myself to turn to that special layer of intangibility that allowed me to overshadow someone. If I had any doubts that this was an alien invasion, they were dissipated as soon as I entered the creature's body.

When I overshadowed a human, the process could accurately be described as driving a human body. Experiencing it yourself was like subjecting your brain to an all-encompassing blindfold, only to take it off and leave it to its own devices once the foreign presence departed.

Overshadowing the alien was more like trying to move a gorilla's body with a human mind. The general anatomy was there, but the weight, distances and movements were all wrong. The best you could hope for was a somewhat accurate guesstimate. For my purposes, this was more than enough. I left the alien body almost as soon as I entered it, the course he was taking completely derailed, coincidentally, directly to the ground. I heard a bone-rattling boom behind me, and grinned. I was gonna have a blast.

The next fifteen or twenty minutes were a blur in which I overshadowed more times than I probably ever had. It wasn't an ability I was too proud of, what with the taking away someone's free will, and all, but I had zero qualms in exploiting its use against these attackers.

That's when the space whale decided to make a splash. And, by a splash, I mean a deafening series of random crashes into buildings, accompanied by a constant, deep rumble, probably meant to demoralize. It might have worked a little, because I didn't exactly fancy my chances against it.

Luckily, I didn't have to.

I'll admit it. Even though I was somewhat jaded towards the hero life, having an invisible, front row seat to the formation of the Avengers sparked a tiny ember of joy in me that I thought I'd lost in my final confrontation with Plasmius, some time ago.

When that tiny slip of a man turned to the huge, green monster and pummeled Space Moby Dick into the ground, I almost let an elated whoop! out. Made even worse when Iron Man blew it neatly apart in two halves, disconcerting even the most savage of aliens into confused and angered roars.

I was rudely snapped out of it by the groan of Moby's friends, coming to avenge their fallen cetacean friend, and Iron Man blasting off (and nearly scaring my invisibility away) a couple yards beside me, carrying what looked like a man with an actual bow and arrows to a nearby rooftop. Then I had to turn intangible to avoid being run over by a man with a fancy-looking mallet, armor, and a red cape flying towards the Empire State building.

And here I thought I'd left the weirdness behind in Amity.

In any case, the battle resumed in full swing when the green giant leaped about a hundred feet into the air, crashing right into an alien climbing down the side of a building, then jumping a few more times, and sowing chaos amongst their ranks. I grinned, ready to invisibly join him.

By the time the fight had raged on for another half an hour, the National Guard arrived, dozens of tan Humvees evacuating the civilians hiding amongst the rubble and various damaged buildings. I grimaced, as I could only hope that Sam was among them, or had gotten to safety earlier. With our track record, I could never be sure. I saw everything from lightning falling down out of nowhere, seemingly controlled by the blond man with the hammer, to Iron Man diving directly into a space whale's maw, blowing it up from the inside like an ironic, slightly more explosion-y version of Jonah. At one point, though my eyes might've deceived me, I thought I even saw a hooded figure hacking aliens in half with a sword. I swear, New Yorkers were so weirdly awesome.

Slowly, though, the defenders were being overwhelmed. A glance at the portal currently disgorging dozens of fresh fighters did not bode well for the brightly colored heroes. It also gave me an idea. I wasn't willing to show myself here (and I was beginning to get tired), but nobody ever said I couldn't fight at full power out there.

I grinned, and accelerated directly into the portal.

Contrary to logical conclusion, given that I was only half ghost, I could survive in the vacuum of space, unaided. Eating, sleeping, and breathing, though not exactly optional, were something I could go a long time without in ghost form. I could effectively hold my breath for a couple of hours, provided I didn't talk, of course. As for the pressure, or lack thereof, the team and I theorized that the otherworldly glow I gave off was actually a sort of film or aura that kept my form, which was still mostly human, intact, much like it kept the plasma-based form of a ghost in one coherent shape.

What all of that means is, I got to work with gusto. Even though I kind of missed on bantering, splitting myself in four and shooting ecto-blasts at will was oddly soothing. It wasn't even fair, really; the aliens did not stop to fight me, single-mindedly diving into the portal. They took potshots at me and my duplicates as they passed, but those were laughably easy to avoid or just plain let pass, turning myself intangible.

Unfortunately, in my zealous endeavors, I was expending my energy far too quickly. My ghost core would regenerate the energy given time, giving me a 'second wind', but after that, I would have to revert to human, and I couldn't exactly let that happen while in the middle of space. I recalled my clones, feeling a bit of relief at the returning energy, and turned around, only to look at a missile headed straight at me. I scrambled to avoid it, and its passenger/carrier, Iron Man, who let go, the suit seemingly shutting down.

A miniature sun exploded into existence, and my eyes widened; Iron Man was drifting, slowly, back to the portal, aided only by the small force of some of the shoulder pieces ejecting, and what was left of the missile's wake. I quickly did the math in my head, and grimaced. At that rate, he wouldn't make it back; worse still, from my position, I couldn't just push us both back to the portal.

I was sorely reminded of why I had quit the hero business.

I flew as fast as I could, closing the distance as much as I could to make my plan as effective as possible, all the while starting to feel the heat of the explosion warm even in the cold of space. When I was at optimal range, well...I shot Iron Man.

In my defense, it worked. The cold plasma of my ghostly ray gave Stark the push he needed to reach the wormhole in time, just as it closed. I didn't have time to be relieved, as I turned intangible in a split second to avoid the nuclear explosion that washed over me.

When the blast dissipated a few seconds later, I tiredly let go of the power, hoping the residual radiation wouldn't kill me, or worse, make me even weirder. I scowled at my situation, knowing the only thing I could do now was attempt to make a portal into the Ghost Zone, and hope I would end up somewhere I might recognize.

Making a portal was less of a power issue, and more of a spiritual one. To make one, I needed to experience a strong sense of missing home; my ghost side needed to yearn for the Zone, at which point I would visualize an entry point, and pretty much hope for the best. I was not a very spiritual man, having been born to a couple of scientists, so this had been the ability I'd had the hardest time learning, even more so than the Ghostly Wail and Duplication.

The two-dimensional vortex of green and black appeared before me, and, as I flew through it, the last thing I remember is feeling my humanity take over with a dazzling flash of light.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Ghost Zone, feeling like I'd taken on the Ghost King for a laugh. I was lying down on my back, floating a few inches off a sheet of tightly packed snow. I turned to Phantom, though I knew I was far from in danger. This was Frostbite's realm, and thus I was more than safe here.

"You're awake. A little early, even." -said a familiar voice to my left.

I turned, finding a teal baby in a purple hood, holding a staff. In other words, I had a visitor in the form of Clockwork.

"Your jokes keep getting better, I see." -I said, groaning as I stretched my aching body.

The Master of Time smirked, turning into an adult. "There's a point, three-hundred or so years in the future, in which I stop making them altogether. But I'm here for the here and now."

I shook my head. "What the hell happened, Clockwork?"

He turned ancient, his eyes gaining the sadness of an eternity of sorrow. "Mankind's time as an independent player in the cosmos is ended, I'm afraid. I had hoped it would take longer, but unfortunately, the universe did not agree with my wishes."

"But...aliens? People are still in denial about you and me, Clockwork. They think Amity Park is a tourist trap of a town filled with nutjobs and con men. They are not ready for aliens." -I argued.

"You'd be correct. But readiness is no longer a factor. It's happened, and the clock does not go back. Now we must look to brace for the future." -he said.

I frowned. "Wait, wait, wait, what's this about we? I'm out of it, Clockwork. I am not going back to the life. I'm engaged, looking to build a family soon...hell, I just participated in this circus to make sure Sam was safe."

He frowned, as an adult. "Isn't that a tad selfish, Daniel?"

I bristled slightly. "So what if it is? I think I earned the chance to be a little selfish, Clockwork. I never asked for my powers, and I still did the best I could with them. I just...can't, anymore. They broke me, and you know it, you saw what Vlad did. Picking up where I left off...I'd only break further, lose what we all managed to keep. I can't spend my entire life fighting."

"The world may need you to." -he said sadly.

"The world clearly has other heroes. Amity's safe with Ellie, the aliens are all dead...and I just really, really want to get back to my future wife." -I said tiredly.

Clockwork looked at me for a moment, but ultimately nodded. "You are free to go, of course. Though I'm afraid Frostbite may want to greet you before you leave his domain." -he said, then disappeared with a wave of his staff.

As it turned out, Frostbite was busy, attending a meeting of the Revenant Council regarding the alien invasion. I was, of course, invited, but I didn't care for spending hours listening to ancient ghosts bicker, especially since I didn't actually know how Sam had fared. Opening a portal back to New York, I stepped in and braced for the worst.

The city looked mostly ok, for having been assaulted by giant space whales and alien gorillas on floating sleds.

The vast majority of the destruction was confined to Midtown, which was no doubt the result of our efforts. The area had been cordoned off by the National Guard, and some odd-looking soldiers in black garb. I didn't exactly care to get tangled with the military at the moment, so I booked it for our apartment.

When I invisibly phased into our bedroom, I found it mostly as I'd left it. A black bra hanging off the edge of our bed, scattered popcorn on the floor, and the TV left on, for which Sam was probably going to hit me. Though her ultra-recyclo-vegetarian phase was done, she was still all for ecology. Our bedside lamp was smashed on the floor, which I imagined was the result of one of those whales crashing to the ground, but other than that, the room was unchanged, as was most of the house.

Except for the kitchen.

"Mr. Fenton, I was wondering when you'd return." -said a black man in a trenchcoat, wearing an eyepatch. Again with the weirdness.

I blinked, making sure I wasn't just experiencing severe exhaustion. I was not.

"Sorry, have we met? Also, please leave my home." -I said curtly.

The man smirked, rising and offering his hand. "Not yet, no. I'm Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Oh boy. A government type. An interesting one, too, given his attire. I ignored his hand. "That's cool and all, but you're still breaking and entering." -I said, fighting to keep the green off of my eyes.

"Just entering. You'll notice your front door is intact." -he said.

"Well, thanks for that, I guess. Look, I love banter as much as the next guy, but I had a really tiring day, and you're still being a criminal."

He put his hands behind his back, which made me tense up a little. "Oh, I don't intend on staying. I just wanted to extend an invitation to my headquarters. You'll find your fiancée there."

Well. That changed things. I stood there, silent for a few seconds, deciding whether I should just blast the pirate right there or play along. I guess my control slipped for a second, because he raised an eyebrow. "No need for that, Mr. Fenton. We're on the same side, here. We just...employ different tactics."

Suddenly, it clicked. The soldiers in black garb, the superheroes that sprung out of literally nowhere. "Oh, I think I know everything about your tactics. I'll play your game, Mr. Fury. For now. Do try not to pull anything funny on us, though. The last government organization that did is no longer in operation."

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a vastly different concept of headquarters than the Guys in White ever had. Their HQ was a weird hybrid of an aircraft carrier and a hovercraft. The engineer in me was a little mind boggled by the sheer challenge of keeping such a massive vessel aloft, but my mind had more pressing matters to attend to.

Director Fury and I were picked up by a very advanced hovercraft on the roof of the apartment building. It quickly rocketed away, flying for a good fifteen minutes above the speed of sound until it decelerated and reached the Helicarrier, as I soon learned it was called. I could tell the ship was damaged. The massive turbines groaned with extra stress, and the aircraft was tilted ever so slightly to the left. I followed the man in black getting a few mildly curious stares from the staff. Inside the ship, it was barely controlled chaos. Parts were being moved every which way, there were blood smudges everywhere, and bullet holes lined some of the walls.

"Unwanted visitors?" -I asked.

The black man huffed. "Mercenaries, tried to take us out so we wouldn't stop the invasion. They evidently failed."

Considering they'd gotten so far, and really, Iron Man had been the one doing the stopping, I don't think I'd be so confident in his place.

Fury led me down a service stairwell, on to a nondescript meeting room. Sam was thankfully there, looking epically annoyed and clad in a black hoodie with the agency's logo. Her expression changed when she saw me, rising without a word and leaping into my arms. She smelled of sweat, blood (both alien and human), burnt wood, and gunpowder. Her hair was tangled and singed, and when I held her face between my hands, I noticed a variety of minor cuts, bruises, and scrapes.

She looked gorgeous still, somehow. We kissed deeply, then sighed, kind of disturbingly used to life or death situations.

"Hey Sam." -I said, my voice half broken.

"Hey yourself." -she said, with that lopsided smirk I so loved.

"As much as I hate to interrupt your moment, we need to talk." -said Fury.

I bristled, but Sam's lavender eyes said 'patience'. My temper subsided, for the time being. "Get on with it, then." -I said gruffly.

I turned to face him. "So, what's this about?" -asked Sam.

Fury tapped the crystal of the table a few times, and it flickered to life. We were sent a few files, which appeared in front of us. I tentatively opened one, and saw footage of the recent battle. It was very blurry, and the camera shook badly, but a few snippets were clear enough. The first one showed an alien sled flying completely straight, then suddenly taking a nosedive onto the street. The second one showed Sam, handling the weapon of a fallen alien like it was just another ecto gun. The third was a shot of Iron Man falling through the wormhole, a bright green flash reflecting of his armor. The final one was maybe the most damning. It was a selfie, taken by two of the patrons in Starbucks, which showed me running into the restroom.

"Until two hours ago, I had no idea that you existed, Mr. Fenton, Ms. Manson. The media treats your hometown as less than a joke, your families are slightly famous for unsuccessfully pioneering cold plasma tech and being obscenely rich, respectively, and you two particularly are seemingly just another young couple looking to build a life in the Big Apple. Now? We're not so sure."

I rolled my eyes. "The point, Mr. Fury? Get to it, please."

"You're a superhero, Mr. Fenton. Like the protagonists of the comic strips of old." I looked at Sam, who shrugged.

I sighed. "Good, you're aware. We can drop the pretense."

Rings of blinding white light formed at my waist, one going upwards, and the other toward my feet. In their wake, they left behind a lightly armored black jumpsuit, white gloves and boots, and a tan complexion. My glowing green irises focused on the two surprised men before me, while the glow inherent to my ghostly form made the room seem darker.

Fury gave me a once-over. "So this is the famous Danny Phantom, huh?"

I shrugged. "It's just Phantom, now. The name was a little on the nose."

The man raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing.

I crossed my arms. "Right, well. You got the light show. Are we free to leave now?" -I asked Fury.

He, as usual, ignored my question. "I'd like to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative, Mr. Fenton."

Avengers sounded a little too violent for me, even without the 'no more heroics' thing. "Uh, no thanks?"

"You got a taste of what it is, down there. You've seen their potential. But you've also seen that they are not unbeatable. They need help. I'd like you to be a part of it."

I facepalmed. "What is it with you people? I'm not a hero. Not anymore. I'm just a guy who wants a normal life."

"That's not an option." -he said seriously.

My eyes burned emerald. "That a threat, Director?"

Fury stood his ground. "An assurance. I know my fair amount of heroes, Mr. Fenton. It is not a job for anyone to quit. It's a permanent way of life."

"Well, I chose to live my life a different way."

"Did you? Then why help, huh? The Avengers may have had casualties, but in the end, I know they would've been able to pull it off. Seeing Stark fighting didn't stop you from joining in. I know a hero when I see one, Mr. Fenton, and you fit the bill to a T."

I groaned. "Ok, first of all, Iron Man had a very fragile handle on the situation. Powerful though he may be, he's just the one guy, and he was getting overwhelmed. People were going to die if I didn't do something. That's not being a hero, just a decent human being. And second? You don't know me, or even Sam. You've no idea what we've gone through, and if you know what's good for you, you'll stop asking me to be your weapon."

Fury sneered. "Am I hearing a threat, Mr. Fenton?"

I smirked sarcastically. "Just an assurance."

The man grit his teeth, but ultimately nodded after a little sigh. "I understand. Believe me, I do. I've lost good men to the cause...some of them, very recently. But the world is always going to need you, in one way or another. If you are sure you're not interested in the Avengers Initiative, then S.H.I.E.L.D. would still be willing to offer you a handsomely paying job as a consultant."

I frowned. He sounded painfully sincere. "Consulting on what?"

Fury shifted uncomfortably. "While S.H.I.E.L.D. has many aspects of international security on lockdown, recent alien invasion excluded, discovering your existence has brought an unforeseen front that we'd have no way of countering. My superiors do not consider ghosts a credible threat, or even a real phenomenon, but I've studied up on you. Someone with even half your capabilities and none of your morality would pose a serious menace. I'd like you to teach S.H.I.E.L.D. how to counter paranormal threats."

I looked at Sam, who looked uncertainly back at me. I did need a job, and I hadn't found a decent one in over a year. We weren't exactly poor, with Sam's funds, but we wanted a family, and we didn't want to leave our children's future to chance. "What would we get out of it?"

Fury shrugged. "Name your price. Health insurance, consulting rates...with the invasion, we have the funding. At least a couple of good things came out of that mess."

I thought about it for a moment. "Give me a week and a phone number. I'll try to figure something out, though I promise nothing."

Fury nodded. "Done. Check your e-mail when you get back. And Mr. Fenton...thank you. Even if you don't want to be, you're a hero."

As promised, as soon as I flew Sam and myself back into the apartment, I found a brand new, brandless laptop on the kitchen. Upon booting it up, it scanned my face as well as Sam's, and displayed the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo, as well as a single folder with all the files I'd need, to learn what becoming a consultant meant. It also had the files on the Avengers Initiative, much to my chagrin. I ignored them for the time being, but somehow couldn't bring myself to delete them. Sam gave me a knowing smirk. She'd never quite agreed with my decision to quit the heroics, but she supported me anyway.

"What're you gonna do?" -she asked me.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. Fury rubbed me the wrong way, at least at first, but I could tell he's genuinely concerned about people's safety."

She hummed. "Kind of a caring jerk kinda vibe, right?"

That got a wince and a nod out of me. "Sort of, yeah. Even if he was just a jerk, his offer is really hard to decline. It's like a blank check."

"So, don't decline it. I'm definitely not a big fan of secret government agencies, but think about it. You'd be able to know what's going on, control what they learn about ghosts. You can teach them and prevent them from going nuts like the Guys in White did." -she argued.

I scowled, upset that she talked about them so easily, when she'd been so hurt by them. "Wouldn't you be endangered if they know more about ghosts?"

She shrugged. "It's not like they'd be more dangerous to me than I am myself."

True enough, I supposed. "Alright. I'll work on my terms."

She pulled me away from the kitchen table. "No, you're not. We're taking a shower. I was just in a warzone, and am in dire need of a thorough scrubbing."

I raised an eyebrow, but happily obeyed as we began to lose clothing on the way to our bathroom. What followed is hardly meant for younger minds, but suffice it to say, we celebrated our survival and our love for each other with passion, followed by the longest sleep in our relatively short lives. In the end, I accepted the job, though not without a few insurance policies. Namely, no experiments, no free anti-ghost tech, and full immunity for Sam and I. I royally screwed up on one front, though, which I'd realize way too late.

In my haste to accept the job, I'd missed including a certain hybrid in my considerations.

EDIT: Added some line breaks, which I forgot.