A/N: To the anon commenting on my turnaround time between updates, please know that this is not my only WIP fic and is therefore not my sole focus for writing. (If I wrote a chapter a week and didn't work on any unposted WIPs, it would still be a good two months between updates.) Please also be aware that, while I have been fortunate enough to keep a job instead of being quarantined at home with bills but without an income during this pandemic, I have been doing a lot of overtime because we are short-staffed and have not had the time or energy to do a lot of writing. Updates will come when they come, and it is unlikely to be with any consistency. If you ever want to know the current status of the next chapter, feel free to leave a signed review or a drop a query on my tumblr page (ladylynse), and I can let you know how far along I am.

Lancer wasn't entirely surprised to see that he was missing one of the shrubs on his front lawn. The Shakespeare lawn ornament wouldn't be salvageable, either; the poor fellow was bent up enough to have written Richard Armour's Twisted Tales from Shakespeare himself.

Still, he stepped aside to allow Mr. and Mrs. Fenton into his house without a word.

"You said Danny's safe," Maddie was saying. "Where is he? What happened? Did he tell you?"

"Did you just find him after he got away from that no-good ghost?" Jack put in. "Did—"

"Danny's doing remarkably well, considering the circumstances," Lancer said. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, might I have a word before you go to visit your son?"

A trace of a frown crossed Maddie's face. "You mean before we pick him up to take him home."

"I sincerely hope that to be the case." He gestured toward his living room, where he'd set out another chair and cleared up most of his books, banishing everything that didn't fit on the bookshelves out here to his bedroom. He planned to find more permanent homes for them all once these more pressing issues had been addressed—which is to say, he planned to buy and assemble at least one new bookshelf, once he found one that would fit within his remaining wall space. It would be a rather cathartic exercise after all of this. "If you wouldn't mind?"

"If this is about Danny skipping his detention again," Maddie said slowly as they all settled into their seats, "I'm sure you'd agree that being caught in a ghost attack is a reasonable excuse for his absence, at least in this instance?"

"That ghost scum is determined to attack our family," Jack added, not bothering to clarify which particular ghost he meant. Lancer dearly hoped he didn't blame Phantom for all of this.

"On the contrary, Mrs. Fenton, it has come to my attention that your son has a very honourable excuse for all the detentions and classes he has missed."

"Oh?"

"I'm afraid it's his right to give you the details, and he's agreed to do just that." Under pressure, admittedly, but Lancer couldn't see how they could do this without the cooperation of the Fentons. Besides that, it wasn't right for Danny to keep this secret from them when it endangered his life. Were he a parent, he would rather make amends than continue to target his own child. The very idea of allowing this to continue as it had…. It was appalling.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Your son has, shall we say, done a considerable amount of community service. While I cannot merely forgive every failing grade, I do believe that I can ensure that he receives partial credit for his work. I will also speak to my colleagues and see that they are more understanding of his absences, tardiness, and—if you'll allow me to be quite frank—his inability to remain awake during class. With special allowances, Danny will be able to write makeup tests for those he misses and submit additional assignments for extra credit when need be."

Maddie's eyebrows rose, but Jack beat her to the question, saying, "You'd do all that for Danny-boy?"

Lancer spread his hands. "Really, it is the least I can do. I cannot speak for my colleagues, and I'm not sure how much he'll allow me to share with them, but I do have considerable influence. We all know your son isn't stupid; we merely had no idea what the problem truly was."

"And his problem, so to speak, was community service?" There was a touch of hesitation in Maddie's voice. The barest hint of incredulity. She knew that wasn't strictly correct, but she couldn't imagine the truth.

Frankly, Lancer couldn't blame her. He'd have never dreamed it, either.

"Let's just call it some rather unconventional extracurricular activities for now, shall we?"

"He was doing that—whatever that is—when the ghost found him," Jack guessed. "So it's made him a target of ghosts? And he can't even carry around an ectogun in school? Are you going to talk to the board? Try to get them to make an exception for those who can prove they know how to use them? They shouldn't cause more than a mild burn to human skin—"

"The no weapons policy will still include ectoguns," interrupted Lancer. "At best, I can draft a proposal for your Fenton Thermos—a purely defensive weapon which cannot be used, accidentally or intentionally, against other humans in any way other than a conventional thermos might—but you would have to be prepared to draw up a distribution plan for those thermoses, as well as designated days they can be emptied or traded for empty thermoses. And I'm rather afraid the testing period would be quite extensive; we have no idea how someone might try to modify your thermos to achieve more nefarious effects, and we cannot hand any of our students, however much training they've had, a weapon that could be turned on others. Of course, the propriety of your design—"

"Perhaps," interjected Maddie, "you could keep your proposal to just Danny and Jazz, given their experience and likelihood of being targeted?"

"There would still be no guarantee. Lockers are hardly impenetrable."

"But they would be more likely to allow it, considering what happened to Danny." Jack crossed his arms. "Extra activities or not, he was still on school property. At least try."

Lancer ducked his head, acknowledging their points. "It is certainly something to consider amending—"

"I'll draft the proposal and submit it to the school board," Maddie said, "if you're so reluctant to be associated with it. This is for my children's protection. Even if it's first dismissed, I want it discussed."

She might not be quite so adamant when she realized how those very thermoses could become a detriment to her son, were someone to capture Phantom. True, Lancer didn't think there were many sympathizers with the various ghost hunting groups that came through town, but Phantom had a lot of fans, and that wasn't always a good thing.

Still, that was something that could be addressed in the future, and given what he'd learned from Danny, there was something else he wanted to address now. "Speaking of your children's protection," he began slowly, not sure if this was his place but not willing to let it go unspoken, "have you made any, ah, more recent safety amendments to your home laboratory?"

Jack and Maddie exchanged guilty looks, and Lancer had his answer before Maddie said, "The kids have their own HAZMAT suits, and they know basic lab safety and first aid."

"Teenagers often believe themselves to be invincible," Lancer said dryly, "and cannot always be trusted not to touch what they shouldn't, even if they know better. Besides which, the safety of your own weapons and prototypes—"

"Danny told you how many of our weapons mistakenly target him?" Jack interrupted. "I'm working it out. I keep trying things. I'm going through them one by one. I've eliminated so many—"

"Please," Lancer cut in, and Jack mercifully fell silent. He'd worried the man would bowl over his words in an attempt to justify what Lancer was beginning to think was a negligence so ingrained it felt normal. "I've seen a variety of your weapons. I own a few of your defensive ones. I can only guess how much you have stored in your basement and how dangerous even a handful of those weapons might be. I know it cannot be easy nor lucrative to be inventors, to run your own company, but you need to look into locating your lab somewhere else. It's not just your safety or that of your children, though I hope that would be reason enough; were something to go catastrophically wrong, you might endanger your neighbourhood. Surely your desire to protect them in the future won't drive you to continue to compromise their safety now?"

Jack raised a hesitant hand. "Did Danny tell you about changing the ecto-filter on the Fenton Ghost Portal? Because I, ah, might have exaggerated the consequences to get him to do it. More than once."

Judging by the look on Maddie's face as Jack said this, Lancer doubted she thought Jack had been exaggerating terribly, and that just made it worse. They were aware of what could go wrong and hadn't sought to even look at potential properties to continue their research? Money was a factor, it had to be, more so than convenience, and pride might have kept them from asking Vlad, but considering the quality and quantity of weapons they produced, they were making something.

Perhaps, if they reinvested in infrastructure instead of buying new supplies to craft different weapons….

But perhaps that wasn't what was holding them back at all.

Perhaps it was the ghost portal in their basement.

And the accident that could very well involve it, if Vlad's had involved its prototype.

It made a cruel bit of sense. If Danny's accident was indeed tied to the ghost portal, his parents did not know the details. And that meant that they couldn't know everything that Danny had done with the portal, how he had tweaked their settings or whatever had gone on, and that meant they weren't sure if they could replicate their results.

And they were afraid that they couldn't.

Even if they didn't know the truth, even if they didn't suspect the truth, they knew there was something they didn't know, and that had kept them from trying to separate their work and home lives even once safety had become an issue.

"Danny has left me to draw far too many of my own conclusions," Lancer said slowly, "but he's told me enough to give me cause for concern."

Maddie straightened in her seat, recognizing something in his words before her husband. Not the right thing, perhaps, but enough of it. "Surely you don't think we don't care for Danny and Jazz?"

"I think you care a great deal indeed," Lancer said, "but I fear that when it comes to your chosen occupation, you can both be rather…overzealous. To the point of preoccupation."

"You really believe we care more for our work than for them?" Maddie's voice was quiet. Cold. Lancer had never heard her angry before. A glance at Jack revealed hurt in his eyes at the thinly veiled accusation, but he held his tongue.

"I think your beliefs about ghosts can be a rather complicating point in your relationship with your children," Lancer said carefully.

"We care about our kids," Jack growled, "and we care enough to stop ghosts from doing anything else like this. The Fenton Spectre Deflector—"

"Mr. Fenton, I suspect both your children are more than capable of handling themselves in a ghost fight." If Jazz knew the truth about Danny, she would have been helping him whenever Sam and Tucker could not—most likely, whether or not he thought he needed that help. She would be involved in more than a few isolated incidents, and she clearly knew the full truth about Vlad. "I do, however, wonder if you've ever taken the time to listen to them speak about the subject, or if you've simply contented yourselves with lecturing to them."

"Of course we listen to them." Maddie got to her feet, and Jack jumped to his as well. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lancer, but if that's all you have to say, I'm afraid it can wait until after we've taken Danny home. If you would like to have a candid discussion about how Danny's doing in school or at home, we can set up a conference once we know Danny is safe."

Lancer didn't rise from his chair. "I can assure you that is my intention."

She smiled at him, but though her anger no longer showed in her voice, it came through in the lack of warmth in her expression. "Excellent. We'll speak with you early next week to arrange a time."

They didn't want to listen to him right now.

He hoped that was merely out of concern for Danny and the fact that this conversation was keeping them from their son.

He hoped he hadn't been wrong.

"Danny is just down the hall. In the bedroom on your left."

Jack and Maddie murmured polite thank-yous before heading down the hall. Lancer took a few deep breaths but couldn't steady his nerves. After everything that had happened…. Oh, for the love of The Railway Children, he hoped he hadn't made a mistake, but it was far too late for him to second guess his decisions now. He'd make more tea—he'd happily drink the entire pot himself if no one else wanted any—and then join them. If nothing else, he'd have to apologize to Danny. His conversation with Jack and Maddie had not gone nearly as well as he'd hoped.

His parents burst into the room, all questions and concern, and Danny was happy he'd only eaten a little; his stomach was twisting enough that he wasn't sure even that was safe.

Valerie pushed herself up and sat at the foot of the bed, neatly avoiding his parents as they came in with hugs and kisses and more questions.

Too many questions, considering they wouldn't want to hear the answers.

"Mom, Dad, it's okay. I'm fine." A lie. His usual one. Habit. "Mr. Lancer's been taking good care of me."

"How long have you been here?" Maddie asked.

"Which ghost took you from the hospital? I'll tear it apart molecule by mol—"

"It wasn't a ghost." If he was going to tell them the truth—and he couldn't very well chicken out with Valerie right there, which come to think of it was probably the real reason she'd stayed—he might as well start there. "I didn't…. I didn't want to go to the hospital. I…I asked Mr. Lancer to take me to his place."

"Sweetie, you know if you're concerned about ecto-contamination, we're much better equipped at home than the hospital, and we'd understand—"

"It's not ecto-contamination." He bit his lip. "I mean, I don't…. I don't think it is. Maybe it is. I just…. It…. That part doesn't matter anyway. These—" he gestured at his injuries "—didn't come from a ghost." They came because I was the ghost. Except he couldn't make his mouth form those words. "It was an accident." Everything was an accident, except for the part where Vlad had specifically targeted him. "Phantom—"

"I knew that putrid piece of protoplasm was going to be involved!" Jack exclaimed. "Don't worry, Danny, when we find him—"

"You don't have to look for him." He had to bite his tongue and swallow the urge to follow that statement with lies. Anything to mislead them. "He's…here."

"And not responsible," Valerie said loudly as Jack and Maddie produced various weapons. "For any of this. Trust me, I was there, too. I was just lucky enough to get out of it unscathed." They turned to her, but she answered their question before they could voice it. "I didn't see Danny or I would've said something. I didn't realize he was there until later."

Man, she was good at that. Maybe that's why she'd gotten away with ghost hunting for so long. He'd always figured her dad was more aware of her activities than his parents were of his.

Of course, now she was looking at him, obviously waiting for him to take what she figured was a golden opportunity.

Why did this have to be so hard?

"I was…hiding." That wasn't the right word for it. "I mean, I was there, but Valerie didn't know I was there. No one knew I was there." He didn't know how to start explaining this. All he knew, now that those words were out of his mouth, was that this was not the best start. "She didn't recognize me." Was that any better?

"What do you mean, honey?"

Okay, clearly not any better. Why couldn't he just come out and say it? I'm Danny Phantom. That's it. That's all he had to say. Three little words.

They probably wouldn't shoot him immediately, considering Valerie was in the room.

Her presence should be enough to make them pause long enough to question him, as opposed to the usual 'shoot first, ask questions never' policy. They shouldn't automatically assume that this was a trick of Phantom's, that he'd developed the ability to shapeshift or something and was trying to pretend to be their son. Even though they already assumed ghosts were out to get them and were willing to use any trick in the book and….

Still. Valerie had taken it well. And his parents had in the past. Granted, they'd been a bit more prepared for it in the past. Somewhat. This wasn't….

He should just spit it out.

"Do you remember when you first built the portal?" Maybe that was a better place to start.

His parents exchanged glances. "What are you getting at, Danny-boy?"

"My accident. In the lab. When you guys weren't home, and I convinced you I didn't need to go to the hospital once you got back. That I'd be fine. That I was fine." He hesitated, watching as their expressions pulled into confused frowns. "I wouldn't even have told you if I'd thought you wouldn't notice we'd been down there. Me and Sam and Tuck, I mean. Because I was…scared."

"Sweetie, you know you don't need to be afraid of us. We don't want you touching our prototypes because we're not sure they're safe for everyone else to use yet, and we don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I know. I…. Even though the portal was done, even though it wasn't working, I just…. It was stupid. We were being…. We weren't thinking. I mean, I still put on my HAZMAT suit, since I was poking around, but it was…. It wasn't that I tripped on a cord and caused something to short out and something else to start working, or whatever we told you. I can't even remember. The thing is, I actually went inside the portal. And then it…turned on. I mean, I…. I hit something. And then it started to work. While I was still inside."

Silence. Fear on their faces. Concern, more like. His mom had gone white, and his dad put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "Danny," she whispered, "that could have killed you."

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? It nearly had. Maybe it really had. He still wasn't even sure what he was. Poindexter had called him a halfa, and Danny had joked about being half ghost, but half ghost wasn't really a thing. Half dead wasn't really a thing, either. True, he hadn't exactly tested the boundaries as far as he could have while Phantom—he still took air with him into space, even though he'd gambled that the cold and the vacuum wouldn't immediately kill him, but…. Shouldn't it have? If he was really human at his core?

He hadn't thought about it at the time.

He hadn't thought that he might not be able to change back.

Did that mean he really was more a ghost that could pretend to be a human than a human with ghost powers? What he and Vlad did, what Dani could do—was that just an extremely unique ability? Like his ghostly wail? Was that ability what really defined a halfa, just like shapeshifters had a greater control over their form than the average ghost?

Or was it just what Jazz had theorized, some infusion of ectoplasm messing with his DNA? Maybe it was just extreme ecto-contamination that should have killed him but hadn't. Because of how he'd gotten it.

Just like Vlad.

"I know." Danny looked away, not wanting to see their faces. He caught sight of Valerie's horrified expression and turned away from her, too, only to find Lancer at the door. He had no idea how long Lancer had been standing there. He'd never heard the kettle whistling, but Lancer had reset the tray with a tea pot, a box of hot chocolate mix, and an array of empty mugs and spoons. His expression was more of grim acceptance than horror or surprise.

Maybe he'd guessed as much from what Danny had told him earlier.

Maybe he'd just guessed as much because he knew the Fentons pretty well after all those parent-teacher conferences he kept calling, not to mention all the ghost attacks he'd witnessed.

Danny tore his eyes away and stared at his hands instead, knitting his fingers together and breaking them apart and twisting them together again. "The thing is, when I first woke up…. I thought it had. Killed me, I mean. I was…. I was terrified. I wasn't…. I wasn't myself."

He should look at them. Try to read their reactions. Gauge the situation. See if they'd figured it out, so he didn't have to say it.

But he was afraid he might see something else in their eyes or their expressions. Something he didn't want to see.

"My reflection wasn't mine." He didn't want to be doing this. Why had he agreed to do this? He could have convinced Lancer to give him a bit more time, surely. Or at least managed to get Jazz here. She'd be good at damage control. She'd anticipate their questions and have answers at the ready, while he…. He wasn't sure how much he was thinking and how much he was just talking to keep from outright panicking. "The boy in the mirror that looked back at me…. It was Phantom. I'm Phantom."

He waited for questions.

He waited for denials.

He waited for the telltale whine of any of their myriad of weapons to power up.

Instead, springs creaked and the mattress shifted as his mother sat down on the bed between him and Valerie. Looking up, Danny saw his father sink into the chair Lancer had abandoned earlier. Neither of them said anything.

No one else did, either.

"Sam and Tucker knew from the start, since they were there when it happened," Danny said into the stretching silence. "Jazz figured it out a long time ago. They've been helping me. I…. I didn't know how to tell you, so I asked them not to say anything. To anyone."

Maddie reached out and pried one of his hands free, gripping it tightly in her own. Now that he couldn't go intangible, he wasn't sure it was a grip he could break and stay free, and for a few panicked milliseconds, he thought she was grabbing him to keep him in one place. He wanted to pull back—had to actively fight the urge to pull back—and wait.

He knew it couldn't have been a long wait, but it felt like an eon passed before Maddie said, "It doesn't matter how you told us. It…it matters that you've told us."

He couldn't read all the emotions in her expression, but she wasn't angry. She wasn't ready to blame Phantom, to call this a trick, to pull him closer and hold an ectogun to his head.

And when his eyes flicked to Jack's, he saw pride there.

Maybe they believed him after all. Maybe this wasn't going to go as horribly as he'd imagined. Maybe—

"Breathe, Danny," came Valerie's voice, and he remembered to suck in a much-needed breath and relax.

And then he let himself change.

He wasn't sure if his mother's flinch was in reaction to the sudden light or the fact that the hand she now held was the gloved one of a ghost she'd long considered an enemy, but it still hurt.

It really, really hurt.

Even if she hadn't meant it to.

"Danny-boy," Jack breathed, but he didn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered.

Maddie squeezed his hand and glanced back at Jack before saying, "We're sorry, too, sweetie. For not listening."

"And for making you afraid to tell us," Jack added. He got to his feet and wrapped Danny and Maddie in a hug. "We still love you, son. Don't think we don't."

Danny was pretty sure he heard Valerie mumble I told you so under her breath, but he didn't care. He just hugged them back and let his tears soak into their shoulders.