Take Me Back to Eden

by ThePaniniPress

Summary:

As Danny Fenton enters college, balancing his dual identity as a human and a half-ghost becomes more difficult than ever. Ghost fights, sleepless nights, and the pressure of academics weigh heavily on him, but the real threat is lurking inside. Unbeknownst to his friends and family, Danny's ghost powers are beginning to take a dangerous toll on his human side, pushing his body and mind to the breaking point.

With every fight, every transformation, Danny’s health declines. Fainting spells, extreme exhaustion, and inexplicable pain become part of his daily life, but he hides it all behind a facade of strength. As his condition worsens, Danny struggles to maintain control, refusing to admit that his powers—once his greatest asset—are tearing him apart. His friends notice something is wrong, but even they don’t realize just how serious it is.

As ghost activity intensifies and the boundaries between the Ghost Zone and the human world begin to blur, Danny will need more than his powers to survive. But will he be able to keep his secret long enough to save both worlds—or will his divided self destroy him from within?

Chapter 1: 0. Authors Note & Disclaimers

Disclaimer:

 

I do not own Danny Phantom, its characters, or the universe they belong to. Danny Phantom was created by Butch Hartman and is owned by Nickelodeon. Additionally, I do not own Sleep Token or their discography, which served as inspiration for this fanfiction. All rights belong to their respective creators. This is a fan-written work for entertainment purposes only.

 

Author’s Note:

 

Hello, readers! Before we dive into this story, I want to take a moment to discuss potential triggers. This fanfiction will explore themes of anxiety, identity struggles, emotional breakdowns, chronic health concerns and the strain of balancing a dual life, all of which are intensified by the pressures of college. If any of these themes are difficult for you, please read with care, and feel free to take a break if needed.

 

When I wrote This Place Will Become Your Tomb , I fell in love with the story and characters, and I was thrilled to see that so many others connected with it as well. As I reflected on the journey Danny, Sam, and Tucker had gone through, I began to wonder how a significant change—like moving to college—would impact their dynamic and Danny’s struggles with his dual identity. College represents a major shift in anyone’s life, and I wanted to explore how Danny would navigate this new chapter while still dealing with the ghosts (literally and figuratively) from his past. 

 

Additionally, it is both an idea I’ve had and some representation/reflection, as I have been curious about how Danny’s physical health was affected by the portal accident. This is a thought I have developed in my head for a while and figured I may as well bring it out!

 

Thank you for joining me on this journey, and I hope you enjoy reading this sequel as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. Let's see how Danny handles this new stage of life!

 

-Panini

Chapter 2: I. Thread the Needle

The car ride had been mostly quiet, the hum of the engine blending with the occasional sound of wind whipping past the open windows. Danny sat in the backseat, watching the trees blur by as they left Amity Park behind, the familiar streets fading into the distance. It was strange, leaving behind everything he knew, everything he’d fought to protect. Even stranger was the feeling that his body hadn’t fully caught up with his mind, the dull ache that had settled into his limbs making it hard to focus on anything but the nagging fatigue that had been creeping up on him for weeks.

 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a faint dizziness washing over him as he glanced toward the front of the car. Sam was sitting beside Tucker, who was driving, their voices mingling together as they talked about the excitement of starting college. Sam was going on about her schedule, the clubs she wanted to join, the art classes that had caught her eye during orientation. Tucker, ever the tech enthusiast, was already rattling off ideas about upgrading their dorm’s Wi-Fi, talking about security systems and state-of-the-art gadgets.

 

Danny wanted to be excited. He wanted to join in, to feel that same spark of anticipation that Sam and Tucker seemed to have. But the truth was, he felt off. He’d been feeling off for a while now, ever since the last few ghost fights had left him more drained than usual. He’d blamed it on overworking himself—between fighting ghosts and preparing for college, he hadn’t exactly had time to rest. But now, as they got closer to their new campus, the feeling hadn’t gone away. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse.

 

His head felt heavy, the familiar pressure building at the base of his skull, a precursor to the dizziness he had been ignoring. It was nothing, he told himself. Just nerves. Just the stress of starting a new chapter in his life. He hadn’t slept well the past few nights—who could, with everything going on? The faint tightness in his chest, the moments where the world seemed to tilt just a little too much—those were just part of the package. He was Danny Phantom, after all. He could handle it.

 

“Hey, Danny, you okay back there?” Tucker’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Danny blinked, realizing that his friend had turned to look at him, concern etched into his features.

 

Danny forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

 

Sam glanced back at him too, her brow furrowed slightly. “You sure? You’ve been pretty quiet. I mean, even quieter than usual.”

 

Danny shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just trying to wrap my head around everything, you know? New school, new place… all that.”

 

Sam’s expression softened, and she smiled. “Yeah, it’s a lot. But it’s going to be great. We’re all here together, right?”

 

“Right,” Danny muttered, though the words felt heavy on his tongue.

 

They were all together, but that didn’t change the fact that something was wrong. He could feel it deep inside, a creeping sense of unease that wasn’t just about starting college. It was something more, something he couldn’t quite explain. His body felt different. Wrong, almost. Like the energy he usually relied on as Danny Phantom was starting to work against him.

 

He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment as the car turned onto the winding road leading up to the university. The dizziness pulsed again, a subtle wave that made his stomach flip, but he forced it down. There was no time to think about it now. They were almost there.

 

The campus came into view, sprawling across the horizon with its ivy-covered buildings and wide-open courtyards. It was a beautiful sight—one that Danny might have appreciated more if the ache in his head wasn’t making it hard to concentrate.

 

“We’re here!” Tucker announced, his voice filled with the kind of enthusiasm Danny wished he could muster.

 

They pulled into the parking lot, the car coming to a stop near the dorms. As soon as they stepped out, the warm breeze hit them, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filling the air. Danny took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort in his body. This was it. A new start. He just had to push through whatever was going on and focus on the positive.

 

But even as he tried to ground himself, the dizziness clung to him, a faint reminder that something wasn’t quite right. He pushed it down, shoving the feeling into the background as they unloaded their bags from the car. Sam and Tucker were already chattering about dorm assignments, their excitement palpable, and Danny didn’t want to be the one to drag the mood down.

 

“You think we’ll get a decent room?” Tucker asked, shouldering his backpack as they started toward the dorm building. “I heard the Wi-Fi in some of these places is terrible.”

 

“As long as it’s not haunted,” Sam quipped, shooting Danny a teasing glance.

 

Danny forced a laugh, though the effort left him feeling more tired than it should have. He knew Sam was joking, but the mention of ghosts brought a fresh wave of tension crashing over him. He hadn’t told them how bad the last few fights had been. He hadn’t told them about the fainting spell he’d had after one particularly nasty battle, or how he’d woken up alone in the park, his body feeling like it had been drained of every ounce of energy. He’d chalked it up to pushing himself too hard, to overextending his powers, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

 

It’ll pass , he told himself. It always does. It’s just stress.

 

They reached the dorm, a tall brick building that looked old but sturdy, its wide steps leading up to a set of heavy wooden doors. Danny followed behind Sam and Tucker, trying to ignore the way his vision blurred slightly when he looked up at the height of the building. It was just the heat, he told himself. Just the strain of the move. Once he was settled in, everything would go back to normal.

 

Inside, the dorm was bustling with new students, parents helping carry boxes, and the hum of excited voices filling the halls. Sam and Tucker were already talking about decorating their room, Tucker mentioning something about string lights and blackout curtains, but Danny’s mind was elsewhere, the faint buzzing in his ears making it hard to focus.

 

As they made their way to their room on the third floor, Danny’s legs felt heavier with each step, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. By the time they reached the door, his chest was tight, and a cold sweat had broken out along the back of his neck. He tried to shake it off, forcing himself to smile as Tucker unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

 

“Home sweet home,” Tucker said with a grin, tossing his bag onto one of the beds.

 

Sam leaned against the doorframe, looking around the small, sparsely furnished room. “Not bad. Could use some touch ups though, less bland looking.”

 

Danny nodded absentmindedly, but the pounding in his head was making it hard to pay attention. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he fought to keep the dizziness at bay. The room felt like it was spinning, the walls tilting just slightly, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out.

 

“You okay, man?” Tucker asked, his voice cutting through the haze.

 

Danny blinked, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just… a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

 

Sam frowned, stepping closer. “You sure? You don’t look great.”

 

“I’m fine,” Danny insisted, though the words felt weak in his mouth. “Just need a minute.”

 

But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending. Something was wrong , and he couldn’t keep ignoring it forever.

 

The air inside the dorm room was thick, the faint scent of dust and aged wood lingering in the corners of the small, sparsely furnished space. The walls were a dull cream color, the kind that had probably been white decades ago but had since taken on the weary hue of countless years and countless students. Sunlight streamed through the single narrow window, casting long, golden stripes across the worn wooden floor. It should have felt cozy, comforting even—a new beginning in a new place—but to Danny, it felt like the room was shrinking around him, the air pressing in, too warm, too heavy.

 

Tucker had already started unpacking his stuff, tossing clothes onto the bed haphazardly as he muttered something about organizing them later. His energy seemed boundless, his excitement for college life bubbling up with each passing minute. Danny, on the other hand, could feel the weight of exhaustion settling deeper into his bones. Every muscle in his body felt tight, strained, like he was already pushing himself past his limit, even though they’d only just started moving in.

 

Sam had left a few minutes ago, saying something about needing to set up her own dorm down the hall. Danny had waved her off with a weak smile, trying to convince her that he was fine, that he didn’t need to be fussed over. But now, standing here in the stuffy room with his head pounding and his limbs feeling like lead, he wasn’t so sure.

 

“Alright, man, let’s get this stuff in,” Tucker said, clapping his hands together as he moved toward the door. “We’ve got the whole car to unload. I call dibs on the small stuff.”

 

Danny forced a laugh, though it came out more like a breathless exhale. “Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

 

He followed Tucker out into the hallway, the sound of other students bustling around them filling the air—voices laughing, boxes being shifted, doors opening and closing. It was the sound of new beginnings, of excitement, but to Danny, it felt overwhelming. Every step felt heavier than the last, the hallway seeming longer than it had just minutes ago. His vision wavered slightly, the edges of his world blurring for a split second before snapping back into focus.

 

Get it together, he thought, clenching his jaw. It’s just a little dizziness. You can handle this.

 

But even as he tried to push the thought aside, he could feel the cold sweat breaking out along his back again, his body protesting the effort it was about to endure. His chest felt tight, the air too thick to breathe properly, but he pushed through it, following Tucker down the stairs and back out into the parking lot.

 

The sun was still bright overhead, the late afternoon warmth wrapping around them as they reached the car. Tucker popped the trunk, grinning as he grabbed a couple of light boxes and slung a duffel bag over his shoulder.

 

“I’ll take the heavier stuff on the second trip,” he said cheerfully, already making his way back toward the building.

 

Danny nodded, though he wasn’t sure if Tucker even saw it. His vision was starting to blur again, the sunlight feeling too bright, too sharp. He blinked hard, trying to clear the fog that seemed to be settling over him, and grabbed a box—one of the lighter ones, but even that small effort felt like too much. His arms trembled slightly as he lifted it, the muscles in his shoulders tightening painfully, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

 

He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, the familiar throb of a headache building at the base of his skull. The dizziness was back, stronger this time, making the ground tilt beneath him for a moment. His heart stuttered in his chest, a cold flush of panic creeping into his limbs, but he gritted his teeth and started back toward the building.

 

It’s fine , he told himself, his footsteps uneven as he walked. You’re fine. Just get through this.

 

But each step felt like he was wading through quicksand, his legs heavy, his balance off. The world seemed to narrow, his vision tunneling slightly as the pounding in his head grew louder, more insistent. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, trickling down the back of his neck in cool, sticky lines, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

 

He stumbled slightly as he reached the stairs, one hand gripping the railing to steady himself. For a moment, he thought he might drop the box, his hands trembling as he clutched it to his chest. The pressure in his head was building, his heart racing too fast, and the world around him felt like it was spinning, tilting dangerously to one side.

 

Tucker was already at the top of the stairs, talking animatedly to one of their new neighbors, completely unaware of what was happening to Danny below. Danny tried to call out, tried to get his attention, but the words caught in his throat, the air too thick, too heavy to speak.

 

His legs buckled beneath him.

 

The box slipped from his hands, hitting the ground with a dull thud as Danny sank to his knees, his vision going black for a split second before returning in blurry, wavering fragments. The world tilted violently, the ground seeming to rise up to meet him as he swayed, his hands gripping the railing for dear life. His heart was pounding too fast, too hard, the rapid thrum of it echoing in his ears like the beat of a distant drum.

 

No, no, no, not now…

 

The dizziness surged again, stronger this time, and Danny felt his body lurch forward as the strength left his limbs. His knees hit the ground hard, a sharp pain shooting up through his legs, but it was distant, muffled beneath the fog that was closing in around him. His breath came in shallow gasps, the world spinning out of control as the edges of his vision darkened.

 

And then, just as quickly as it had come, the dizziness receded slightly, leaving Danny kneeling on the stairs, his hands still gripping the railing, his chest heaving with the effort of trying to breathe. His body was trembling, every muscle quivering with the strain, but he was still conscious. Barely.

 

He stayed like that for a moment, his head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to steady himself. The world around him felt distant, the voices and sounds muffled, but the overwhelming sense of vertigo was starting to fade, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache in his chest and head.

 

“Danny?” Tucker’s voice was suddenly close, sharp with concern.

 

Danny blinked, lifting his head slightly to see Tucker standing in front of him, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry. His hands were still shaking, his chest tight, but he managed to force a weak smile, though the effort made him feel even more drained.

 

“Sorry,” Danny muttered, his voice rough. “Guess I… overdid it.”

 

Tucker knelt down beside him, his eyes wide with concern. “Dude, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

 

Danny let out a shaky laugh, though it came out more like a wheeze. “Feels like it.”

 

Tucker shook his head, his expression serious now. “You should have said something, man. You don’t have to carry all this stuff if you’re not feeling well. I’ve got it.”

 

Danny shook his head weakly, his hands still gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “I’m fine. Just… need a minute. Besides, the sooner we get it done the less we have to worry about later.”

 

But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure if it was true. The dizziness was still there, lingering in the background, a constant reminder that his body wasn’t working the way it should. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know why his powers—or maybe just his body—were betraying him like this, but he couldn’t afford to let Tucker see how bad it really was.

 

“I’m good,” Danny said again, forcing himself to stand, though his legs wobbled dangerously beneath him. He gripped the railing tightly, using it to steady himself as Tucker hovered nearby, ready to catch him if he fell.

 

“You sure?” Tucker asked, his voice uncertain. “You look like you just got hit by a truck.”

 

Danny managed a weak grin, though the effort made his head pound even harder. “Yeah. Just… don’t tell Sam, okay? She’ll freak.”

 

Tucker raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Alright. But seriously, take it easy. I’ll grab the rest of the stuff. You can just… I don’t know, start putting it up. That way you won’t get hurt if you–”

 

“I’m fine ,” Danny insisted. 

 

“Fine, alright,” Tucker sighed, “Just unpack the room, yeah? Sound fair?”

 

Danny nodded, grateful that Tucker wasn’t pushing him to explain. He wasn’t sure he could, even if he wanted to. The truth was, he didn’t know what was going on. All he knew was that something was wrong, and it wasn’t going away.

 

As Tucker jogged back down the stairs, Danny leaned heavily against the railing, his chest still tight, his hands shaking as he tried to catch his breath. The world had stopped spinning, but the sense of unease remained, a gnawing fear that something was deeply wrong with him.

 

I need to figure this out, he thought, his heart still racing in his chest. Before it gets worse.

 

Danny stood at the top of the stairs for what felt like an eternity, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the metal railing, the coolness of it grounding him as the world slowly stopped spinning. His chest still ached with each breath, the tightness in his lungs refusing to ease, but at least he wasn’t on the verge of passing out anymore.

 

At least for now.

 

Danny didn’t move. He was afraid if he did the symptoms would get worse again.

 

Tucker’s footsteps echoed up the stairwell as he returned with another load of boxes, his face twisted in a mix of concern and confusion. He dropped the boxes just inside the dorm room, glancing back at Danny, who was still leaning heavily against the railing.

 

“You sure you’re alright, man?” Tucker asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “I’ve never seen you look like that before.”

 

Danny forced a smile, but it felt thin, stretched too tightly across his face. “I’m fine. Just… got dizzy for a second. I think I just need to eat something.”

 

It was a weak excuse, and judging by the look Tucker gave him, he wasn’t buying it. But Danny couldn’t bring himself to tell Tucker the truth—not that he even knew what the truth was. How was he supposed to explain the way his body had been betraying him, the way he’d been feeling like he was slowly losing control over himself?

 

Tucker sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, if you’re hungry, we can take a break and grab something to eat. No point in killing ourselves unpacking on the first day.”

 

Danny nodded, though the idea of eating anything made his stomach churn. He was still too shaken from the near fainting spell, the sensation of the world slipping away from him lingering at the edge of his awareness like a shadow that refused to fade.

 

“Yeah, let’s take a break,” Danny muttered, stepping away from the railing, though he kept his hand hovering near it, just in case his legs decided to give out again.

 

They headed back into the dorm room, the small space now cluttered with boxes and bags, the once-clean floor littered with clothing and stray electronics. Tucker flopped down onto his bed, grabbing his tablet from his backpack and scrolling through some app, probably already mapping out how he was going to upgrade their room with his latest tech inventions.

 

Danny, however, moved more slowly, still trying to regain his balance as he sat on the edge of his bed. His limbs felt weak, almost shaky, like his muscles had been drained of all their strength. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but the pounding in his head made it hard to focus on anything other than the dull throb of pain behind his eyes.

 

This can’t just be from overworking myself , he thought, his chest tightening with a growing sense of unease. There’s something else going on .

 

But what? He’d always pushed himself hard—between ghost fights, schoolwork, and everything else that came with being Danny Phantom, he’d gotten used to running on empty. But this… this was different. This wasn’t just exhaustion. This was something deeper, something that was beginning to feel more permanent.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his scalp. The room felt too small, too warm, and even though the dizziness had mostly subsided, a cold sweat still clung to his skin, making him feel clammy and uncomfortable.

 

Tucker glanced up from his tablet, his gaze flicking over to Danny. “You sure you don’t wanna see a doctor or something? I mean, if you’re not feeling well, it’s better to get checked out now before things get worse.”

 

Danny shook his head quickly, his heart lurching at the suggestion. The last thing he needed was to go to a doctor and have them start poking around, asking questions he couldn’t answer. What would they even say if they found something? If they realized that his body wasn’t entirely human?

 

“I’m good,” Danny said, forcing his voice to sound steadier than he felt. “Really. I’ve just been running myself ragged lately. Moving in is probably just hitting me harder than I thought.”

 

Tucker didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he set his tablet aside and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright, well, if you’re sure. I’m gonna head down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat. You want me to bring you anything back?”

 

Danny hesitated. The idea of food still didn’t sit well with him, but he also didn’t want to raise any more alarms by refusing to eat.

 

“Maybe just a sandwich or something,” Danny said, leaning back against the bed frame. “I’ll eat it later.”

 

Tucker nodded, giving Danny one last glance before heading for the door. “Alright, be back in a few.”

 

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Danny alone in the quiet dorm room. He let out a long breath, his body sinking into the mattress as he closed his eyes, the throbbing in his head pulsing in time with his heartbeat. His limbs still felt heavy, the strange numbness clinging to his skin like a cold, wet blanket.

 

What is happening to me?

 

For a moment, Danny allowed himself to lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind whirled with unanswered questions. He tried to focus, to piece together the strange puzzle that had been forming in the back of his mind for weeks now. The dizziness, the fainting spells, the overwhelming fatigue that had started creeping up on him after every ghost fight—it was all connected, he was sure of it. But why? What had changed?

 

His ghost powers had always come with a price. He knew that. But this… this felt different. It felt like something inside him was breaking down, like the very balance between his human and ghost sides was shifting, throwing everything out of sync. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his body was screaming at him that something was wrong.

 

He couldn’t ignore the symptoms anymore.

 

With a shaky breath, Danny sat up, his head spinning slightly as he moved. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension that had settled there, but it did little to help. His body felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to him anymore, like it was fighting against itself.

 

He knew he needed to talk to someone—Sam, Tucker, anyone. But how was he supposed to explain something he didn’t even understand? How could he tell them that he was scared? That he was afraid he was losing control, not just of his powers, but of himself?

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the faint buzzing of his phone, vibrating against the small table by his bed. Danny reached for it, his fingers still trembling slightly as he picked it up. The screen lit up with a new message from Sam.

 

Sam: You okay? Tucker told me you weren’t feeling great.

 

Danny sighed, typing out a quick response.

 

Danny: Yeah, just tired. Nothing to worry about.

 

The lie felt heavy in his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. Not yet.

 

He set the phone down and leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes again as the exhaustion washed over him in waves. He needed to figure this out. Whatever was happening to him, he couldn’t keep ignoring it. But right now, all he wanted was for the world to stop spinning, for the tightness in his chest to ease, for just one moment of clarity.

 

But even as he lay there, the faint hum of his ghost powers buzzing beneath the surface, Danny knew that the answers he was searching for wouldn’t come easily.

 

Something is wrong , he thought, the realization settling over him like a weight.

 

And he was running out of time to figure out what.

Chapter 3: II. Mine

The days that followed felt like they blurred together, one bleeding into the next, with Danny trapped somewhere in the haze of trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy while his body betrayed him more and more with each passing moment.

 

Classes had started, the crisp air of early fall bringing a fresh sense of energy to campus as students rushed from lecture halls to study groups, all eager to dive into their new college lives. For most people, it was an exciting time—new beginnings, new faces, new experiences. But for Danny, it felt like trying to swim through quicksand.

 

His head pounded constantly now, the dull throb of pain a near-constant companion, and the dizzy spells he’d brushed off earlier had only gotten worse. Every morning, it took more and more effort to drag himself out of bed, his limbs heavy, his chest tight with the ever-present weight of exhaustion that seemed to have settled permanently into his bones.

 

At first, he tried to ignore it. Tried to convince himself that it was just the stress of starting college, the lingering fatigue from ghost fights. But now, as he sat slumped in the back of his Intro to Philosophy class, his head resting heavily on one hand, he could feel the truth gnawing at the edges of his mind.

 

Something is wrong.

 

The professor’s voice droned on in the background, but Danny’s thoughts were elsewhere, his focus slipping in and out as he struggled to keep his eyes open. His ghost sense had flared briefly during the lecture—just a small pulse of cold at the back of his neck—but the exhaustion had hit him like a wave afterward, leaving him feeling drained and lightheaded. He didn’t want to fight if he didn’t have to. Sure, he never did. But now he was even more reserved than ever. 

 

His heart pounded in his chest, the familiar tightness making it hard to breathe. The classroom felt too warm, the air too thick, and Danny shifted in his seat, trying to shake off the faint buzzing feeling that had settled behind his eyes.

 

He rubbed his temples, willing the headache to ease, but the pressure only seemed to build, creeping down his neck and into his shoulders, making every movement feel sluggish. It was like his body was working against him, like every part of him was rebelling, and no matter how much he tried to push through it, the feeling refused to go away.

 

The worst part was the unpredictability. He never knew when the next wave would hit—whether it would be a dizzy spell that made the room tilt or a sudden rush of cold that made his limbs go numb. And every time it happened, every time his ghost sense flared or his vision blurred, Danny felt the creeping fear that he wasn’t in control anymore.

 

He glanced around the room, watching as the other students took notes, their pens scratching across notebooks or fingers tapping on laptops. They were all so focused, so present in the moment, and Danny couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. They didn’t have to worry about their bodies failing them. They didn’t have to fight to stay awake, to keep their hands from shaking.

 

They didn’t have to worry about being half ghost.

 

The sound of movements all around him jarred Danny from his thoughts as the rest of the class packed up their things and filed out of the room. He stayed in his seat for a moment, his head still pounding, his body unwilling to move. His limbs felt too heavy, like the simple act of standing up would take more energy than he had.

 

“Hey, man, you okay?” Tucker’s voice broke through the fog, and Danny blinked, realizing that his friend was standing beside him, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a look of concern etched on his face.

 

Danny forced a weak smile, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired.”

 

Tucker frowned, clearly not convinced. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I’m starting to think it’s more than just being tired.”

 

Danny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Tuck. Maybe. I just… I haven’t been feeling great.”

 

Tucker raised an eyebrow, his concern deepening. “Like, sick? Or something else?”

 

Danny hesitated, glancing around the now-empty classroom. How was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to tell Tucker that it wasn’t just regular sickness, that his ghost powers were acting up in ways he couldn’t control? That he was starting to feel like his body wasn’t entirely his anymore?

 

“I don’t know,” Danny said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like… like my ghost side is doing something to me. I don’t know how to control it.”

 

Tucker’s expression shifted, concern morphing into something closer to alarm. “Wait—your ghost side? What do you mean? Like, you think your powers are making you sick?”

 

Danny leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of it all settled over him again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just… I feel like something’s wrong. Like my body’s not working the way it should.”

 

Tucker sat down in the seat next to him, his voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

 

Danny let out a tired laugh, running a hand through his hair. “What was I supposed to say? ‘ Hey, guys, guess what? My ghost powers are making me feel like I’m dying. Even though I’ve already half-died once ’”

 

Tucker’s eyes widened slightly, and Danny winced, realizing too late how dark the words had sounded.

 

“That bad, huh?” Tucker asked, his voice serious.

 

Danny nodded slowly, the tension in his chest tightening even more. “Yeah. It’s bad. And I don’t even know what is going on. I mean I’ve always been exhausted by it but it’s not been this bad…”

 

Tucker was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processed what Danny had just said. But then, he reached out and clapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring.

 

“We’ll figure this out, man,” Tucker said, his voice steady. “You’re not in this alone.”

 

Danny wanted to believe him. He really did. But the truth was, no matter how much Tucker or Sam tried to help, this was something he had to face on his own. This wasn’t a ghost they could fight together, a villain they could take down. This was something inside him, something he couldn’t run from or punch away.

 

“I appreciate that, Tuck,” Danny said, standing slowly, his legs wobbling slightly as he steadied himself. “But I don’t even know where to start.”

 

Tucker stood with him, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “We’ll start by keeping an eye on you. If things get worse, we’ll figure out the next step. You don’t have to do this alone.”

 

Danny nodded, though the weight of the situation still pressed down on him. He knew Tucker meant well, but the growing sense of helplessness that had been creeping over him for weeks wasn’t something a few kind words could fix. It wasn’t something anyone could fix.

 

As they left the classroom and stepped out into the open air, Danny could feel the cold breeze hit his skin, the sudden rush of coolness sending a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t the same as his ghost sense—it was more subtle, a quiet reminder that his body was still on edge, still fighting a battle he didn’t understand.

 

They made their way across campus, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground as students bustled around them, chatting and laughing, their faces bright with the excitement of the new semester. Danny could feel the disconnect between himself and them, the growing chasm that separated him from the normalcy they all seemed to take for granted.

 

He could feel the distance growing, not just between him and the other students, but between him and his own body. It was like he was living in someone else’s skin, like his ghost powers were slowly taking control, leaving him trapped inside himself.

 

Is this how it’s always going to be? he wondered, the thought sending a cold spike of fear through his chest.

 

He didn’t know the answer, but the uncertainty of it all was suffocating. He could feel the weight of his powers pressing down on him, the possessiveness of his ghost side tightening its grip, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was slowly losing control.

 

And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure he could stop it.

 

Danny and Tucker continued walking across campus, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in long golden rays. The warmth of the day was fading, replaced by a cool breeze that sent shivers down Danny’s spine, though he wasn’t sure if the cold was from the weather or something stirring deep inside him. The uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest earlier hadn’t gone away—in fact, it was getting worse.

 

As they passed groups of students sitting on the lawn, chatting and laughing like everything in the world was perfectly fine, Danny felt the familiar sensation of isolation creeping in again. He used to be one of them—just a normal kid, worried about classes and friends, not about whether his ghost side was slowly taking over his life. But now, every step felt like a reminder of how far away that normalcy was.

 

“Hey, you want to grab something from the cafeteria?” Tucker asked, glancing over at Danny. “I know you didn’t eat earlier. Might help you feel better.”

 

Danny hesitated, his stomach twisting at the thought of food. He wasn’t sure he could eat anything right now, not with the way his chest felt tight and his head was starting to swim again. But before he could answer, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him, stronger than any of the others he’d had that day.

 

The world tilted .

 

His breath hitched in his throat, his legs buckling as the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. The familiar pounding in his head returned, but this time it was sharper, more intense, like his skull was caught in a vice. His heart raced, thumping wildly in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as his vision blurred around the edges.

 

Not now , he thought, panic clawing at him. Not here.

 

He reached out instinctively, his hand catching Tucker’s arm as he stumbled, his knees giving way beneath him. His vision went white for a moment, spots dancing in front of his eyes as the dizziness overtook him, the world spinning too fast for him to get his bearings.

 

“Danny?” Tucker’s voice was sharp with alarm, his arm coming up to steady him. “Whoa, hey—are you okay?”

 

Danny tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. His throat felt too tight, his breath shallow and ragged as he clung to Tucker, his legs trembling beneath him. His ghost sense flared, not in warning of an approaching ghost, but as if his powers were reacting to the sudden shift in his body, making everything worse.

 

The pressure in his chest grew, a tight, suffocating feeling that made it hard to breathe, and Danny could feel himself slipping, the world growing darker around the edges.

 

I can’t pass out here. Not here.

 

Tucker’s grip tightened on his arm, his voice low and urgent. “Danny, come on, man, talk to me.”

 

Danny forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear the spots from his vision. He could feel the ground swaying beneath him, his legs barely able to hold him up, but he gritted his teeth, trying to stay upright. His heart was still racing, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, but he managed to find his voice.

 

“I’m… I’m okay,” Danny muttered, though it was clear from the way his voice wavered that he was far from okay.

 

Tucker glanced around, eyes scanning the groups of students nearby, his body tense with worry. “Let’s sit down. Come on.”

 

Danny didn’t argue. His legs were shaking too badly to stand much longer anyway, and the last thing he needed was to collapse in the middle of campus with half the student body watching. Tucker led him over to a nearby bench, keeping a firm grip on his arm until Danny was seated, his head hanging low as he tried to breathe through the dizziness.

 

For a moment, they sat in silence, the sounds of campus life continuing around them as if nothing was wrong. But for Danny, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just this moment, just the pounding in his head and the tightness in his chest, the overwhelming sense that something inside him was coming apart.

 

Tucker crouched down in front of him, his expression serious. “You almost passed out, didn’t you?”

 

Danny didn’t have the energy to deny it. He nodded weakly, his hand pressed against his chest as if that would somehow make it easier to breathe. The edges of his vision were still blurred, the pounding in his skull relentless, but he forced himself to stay present, to not let the darkness pull him under.

 

“You need to see someone,” Tucker said, his voice tight with concern. “This is getting worse, Danny. I don’t care if it’s your ghost side or whatever, you can’t keep pretending like this is nothing.”

 

“I know,” Danny said, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt the weight of it settling over him, the truth of Tucker’s words sinking in. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep brushing off what was happening to him like it was no big deal.

 

But who could help him? There weren’t exactly doctors who specialized in half-ghosts.

 

Except Jazz.

 

The thought struck him suddenly, cutting through the fog in his mind. Jazz. She had been researching this exact thing for months, maybe longer. Ever since she’d found out about his secret, she’d taken it upon herself to learn everything she could about how his ghost side affected him—physically and mentally. If anyone had answers, it was her.

 

“I need to call Jazz,” Danny muttered, sitting up slightly, though the movement made his head spin again.

 

Tucker frowned. “Jazz? Why?”

 

“She’s been… she’s been studying this,” Danny said, rubbing his temples. “How my ghost side affects me. Physically. Mentally. Maybe she knows something. Or maybe she can figure it out.”

 

Tucker nodded, though the worry didn’t leave his face. “That’s a good idea. Do you want me to call her for you?”

 

“No, I’ll do it,” Danny said, pulling his phone from his pocket, though his fingers trembled as he scrolled through his contacts. His heart was still racing, his chest tight, but the dizziness was slowly receding, leaving behind a dull, throbbing headache.

 

He found Jazz’s number and hit call, bringing the phone to his ear. The ringing seemed to stretch on forever, the tension in his chest growing with each passing second. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. How was he supposed to explain what was happening when he didn’t even fully understand it himself?

 

After what felt like an eternity, Jazz’s voice crackled through the line. “Hey, Danny! How’s college life treating you?”

 

Danny swallowed hard, his voice catching in his throat. “Uh… hey, Jazz. It’s… it’s been fine. But, uh, I need to talk to you about something.”

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Danny could almost hear the shift in her tone, the older-sister instinct kicking in. “Danny, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

 

Danny let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the bench as he tried to steady himself. “I don’t know. I mean, no. I’m not. I’ve been… I’ve been having these episodes. Dizziness, fainting. And it’s getting worse.”

 

Jazz was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was more serious, more focused. “How long has this been happening?”

 

“A few weeks,” Danny admitted, his heart sinking at the realization of just how long he’d been dealing with this without telling anyone. “Maybe longer. I thought it was just stress, or overworking myself, but now… now I’m not so sure.”

 

“Okay,” Jazz said, her voice calm but firm. “We’ll figure this out. I’ve been looking into how your ghost powers might affect your body, and there’s a lot we still don’t know. But I’m coming up to visit this weekend anyway, so I’ll bring my notes, and we’ll talk about it, okay? Maybe we can figure it out.”

 

Danny nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Thanks, Jazz.”

 

“Just hang in there,” Jazz said, her voice softening. “Keep me updated, yeah?”

 

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding again as a wave of relief washed over him. He wasn’t alone. Jazz was coming. Maybe, just maybe , she would have answers—answers that would help him understand what was happening to his body and why it felt like his ghost powers were spiraling out of control.

 

“I’ll see you soon,” Jazz said before hanging up.

 

Danny lowered the phone, the tension in his chest easing slightly. He still felt weak, his head still pounding, but the sense of isolation that had been gnawing at him for weeks had lessened. At least now, there was a glimmer of hope that someone could help him figure out what was going on.

 

Tucker sat back down next to him, glancing sideways. “What did Jazz say?”

 

“She’s coming this weekend,” Danny said, his voice quiet but steadier than before. “She’s been researching this stuff for a while now. Maybe she’ll have some answers.”

 

Tucker nodded, offering him a small smile. “Good. You need all the help you can get, man. We’ve got your back.”

 

Danny managed a weak grin, though the exhaustion was starting to pull at him again. “Thanks, Tuck.”

 

They sat there in silence for a moment, the cool breeze ruffling their hair, the sounds of campus life continuing around them. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Danny allowed himself to breathe, to just sit and not worry about what was happening to him. Jazz was coming. And maybe, just maybe , she would know what to do.

 

But even as he sat there, the faint pulse of his ghost powers thrumming beneath his skin, Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening to him was just the beginning.

 

The days leading up to Jazz’s visit were a strange mix of normalcy and chaos. There were moments when Danny felt almost like himself again, where the dizziness faded and the constant ache in his body seemed to recede, leaving him with a fleeting sense of control. On those days, it was easy to believe that maybe he was just overreacting, that maybe everything was fine and the worst was behind him.

 

But those moments never lasted.

 

The fainting spells still lingered just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest trigger to send him spiraling. Even on his good days, there was always that sense of unease, like his body was a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any moment. It made every step feel precarious, every decision fraught with the fear that his ghost powers—or worse, his human body—would betray him again.

 

By the time Jazz arrived, the tension in Danny’s chest had built into a tight knot of anticipation. He didn’t know what he was hoping for—answers, maybe, or at least some explanation for why he felt like his body was slowly slipping out of his control. But there was also a fear gnawing at the edges of his mind, a fear that maybe this was just the way things were now. That there were no answers, no easy fixes.

 

Jazz had driven up early on Saturday morning, and by the time Danny met her outside his dorm, she was already waiting by her car, a backpack slung over her shoulder and a look of determination on her face.

 

“Hey, Danny,” she said, her voice bright, but with that familiar note of concern underneath. She reached out to hug him, pulling him into a quick but firm embrace. “How are you feeling?”

 

Danny shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual as he pulled back. “I’ve been better.”

 

Jazz studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through him. It was one of her many talents—reading people, picking up on the things they tried to hide. And Danny, no matter how much he tried to act like everything was fine, had never been good at hiding things from Jazz.

 

“Let’s head inside,” she said after a beat, adjusting her bag. “We can talk in your room.”

 

They made their way up the stairs to Danny’s dorm, the familiar echo of footsteps bouncing off the walls as they climbed. Danny kept his pace steady, trying to ignore the faint buzzing in his head that always seemed to accompany any exertion these days. It wasn’t bad—not yet, anyway—but the sensation lingered, a quiet reminder that the good days never lasted long.

 

Tucker wasn’t around, having mentioned something about heading to the library, which left Danny and Jazz alone as they stepped into the dorm room. The space was quiet, save for the distant hum of the air conditioning, and the sun streaming in through the window cast the room in a warm, golden light.

 

Jazz wasted no time, dropping her bag onto the desk and pulling out a thick stack of papers—her notes, most likely. She always came prepared, always had some study or research paper she was working on. And this time, the research was about him.

 

“Okay,” Jazz said, flipping through her notes as she sat down on the edge of Danny’s bed. “I’ve been looking into everything I could find about how your ghost powers might affect you physically, and there’s a lot we still don’t know. But based on what you’ve told me, I think there’s something going on with the way your body is balancing your human and ghost sides.”

 

Danny sat on the bed next to her, leaning back against the headboard, though his body felt tense, like he was bracing himself for something. He wasn’t sure what, but the tightness in his chest hadn’t eased since she’d arrived.

 

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

 

Jazz glanced up at him, her expression thoughtful. “I think your body is struggling to keep up with the energy your ghost powers are using. It’s like a battery that’s being drained too quickly without time to recharge. Your human side is taking the brunt of it, which is why you’re having these fainting spells.”

 

Danny frowned, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed what she was saying. It made sense, in a way—he’d always known that his ghost powers took a toll on him. He just hadn’t realized how much of a toll until recently.

 

“Is there anything I can do about it?” Danny asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

 

Jazz sighed, setting the papers down on the bed. “I’m not sure. There’s no manual for being half-ghost, so this is all uncharted territory. But I think the key is finding balance. You need to give your human side time to recover after using your ghost powers, and that means resting more, eating better, and not pushing yourself so hard.”

 

Danny snorted, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, because taking a break in the middle of a ghost fight is totally an option.”

 

Jazz shot him a look, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m serious, Danny. You need to take this seriously. If you keep pushing yourself like this, it’s going to get worse.”

 

Danny sighed, rubbing his eyes. He knew she was right, but the idea of slowing down, of stepping back from his responsibilities as Danny Phantom, felt impossible. The ghosts wouldn’t stop coming just because he needed a break. And even if they did, his body wasn’t something he could control with a simple command.

 

Jazz must have sensed his hesitation because she softened slightly, her voice gentler now. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t keep ignoring this. Your health is important too, Danny.”

 

Before Danny could respond, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, stronger this time, making the room tilt slightly. His breath hitched, and he gripped the edge of the bed, his heart racing as the pressure in his chest returned with a vengeance.

 

Not again…

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the feeling to pass, but it only grew worse. His vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges of his sight as the tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. The world felt too bright, too loud, the weight of his own body suddenly too much to bear.

 

“Danny?” Jazz’s voice was sharp with concern, cutting through the haze.

 

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t , really. His throat felt too tight, his body too heavy as the dizziness threatened to pull him under.

 

Without thinking, Jazz moved closer, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “Hey, breathe. Focus on your breathing.”

 

Danny tried, but each breath felt shallow, like his lungs weren’t getting enough air. His chest ached, his head pounding, and the world continued to spin around him. He could feel the cold pulse of his ghost powers beneath his skin, reacting to the stress, making everything worse.

 

“I’ve got you,” Jazz said softly, her voice steady but firm. “Just breathe.”

 

It took a few agonizing moments, but slowly—very slowly—the dizziness began to fade. His vision cleared, the tightness in his chest easing just enough for him to take a deep, ragged breath. The world came back into focus, the sharp edges softening, though the exhaustion that followed was overwhelming.

 

Danny slumped back against the pillows, his limbs heavy, his body shaking slightly from the effort it had taken just to stay conscious. He could feel the cold sweat clinging to his skin, his heart still racing, but at least the worst of it was over.

 

Jazz watched him carefully, her eyes wide with worry but her voice calm. Her hand was on his shoulder, as if maybe she had pushed him to lay down, Danny wasn’t sure. 

 

“That was bad, Danny.” Jazz said softly, “You need to rest.”

 

Danny nodded weakly, though the thought of resting felt impossible with everything swirling in his mind. “I know. I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

 

Jazz sighed, her hand still resting gently on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, okay? One step at a time. But you can’t keep doing this alone.”

 

Danny closed his eyes, too tired to argue. He knew she was right—he couldn’t keep doing this alone. But even as he lay there, the remnants of the episode still clinging to him like a shadow, he couldn’t shake the fear that no matter how hard he tried, his ghost side would always control him in ways he couldn’t predict.

 

And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

Chapter 4: III. The Love You Want

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft silver glow over the campus, turning the buildings into shadows and the paths into narrow ribbons of light. The air was cooler now, carrying with it the faint scent of autumn, the leaves on the trees starting to shift from green to hues of gold and red. It should have felt peaceful—quiet, calm. But to Danny, the world felt heavy, like the weight of it all was pressing down on him, making it harder to breathe.

 

He walked slowly beside Sam, the two of them making their way toward one of the quieter parts of campus, far from the chatter and laughter of students hanging out in the common areas. Sam had suggested the walk after dinner, probably sensing that something was off with him, though he’d done his best to hide it. She was always good at reading him, though—too good, sometimes.

 

The truth was, Danny didn’t feel like himself. He hadn’t in a while. His conversation with Jazz had left him with more questions than answers, and though he was grateful for her support, it didn’t change the fact that his body was still betraying him. Every day felt like a battle against himself, against the dizziness, the fainting spells, the overwhelming sense that his ghost powers were slowly slipping out of his control. And now, more than ever, it felt like he was dragging Sam into the mess with him.

 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, watching as the moonlight played across her face, highlighting the soft curve of her cheek and the sharp glint of her dark eyes. She was beautiful, and smart, and so much stronger than anyone gave her credit for. And here she was, walking beside him, supporting him, even when he felt like he was falling apart.

 

Danny swallowed hard, the familiar tightness creeping into his chest again—not from exhaustion or dizziness this time, but from something deeper, something that had been gnawing at him for weeks now.

 

Do I deserve this?

 

They reached a small clearing near the edge of campus, a quiet spot where the trees formed a canopy overhead, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Sam slowed her pace, turning to face Danny with a small smile, though the concern in her eyes was hard to miss.

 

“You’ve been quiet,” she said softly, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the trunk of a tree. “What’s going on?”

 

Danny hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to find the words. He didn’t want to burden her with everything. Not after everything she’d already done for him. But the fear—the doubt—it was getting harder to ignore.

 

“Sam, do you ever wonder…” He trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the question. His throat felt tight, the words catching like stones. “Do you ever wonder if… I don’t know, if maybe this—us—is too much for you?”

 

Sam blinked, her brow furrowing as she straightened up slightly. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean…” Danny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. The words felt heavy in his mouth, like admitting them would make them real. “I mean, I’m not exactly easy to deal with. I’m half ghost. I’m barely keeping it together most days. You could be with someone who doesn’t have all this baggage, someone who doesn’t put you in danger every time a ghost shows up.”

 

Sam’s expression softened, though there was a hint of frustration in her eyes as she stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Danny, I don’t care about that.”

 

“But you should,” Danny said quickly, his voice rising slightly. “You should care. You shouldn’t have to deal with this—with me. I mean, I can’t even promise you a normal life. Hell, I can’t even promise you a future. What if something happens to me? What if this—” He gestured vaguely to himself, to the constant battle raging inside his body. “What if this gets worse?”

 

Sam didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him, her dark eyes searching his face for a long moment before she finally spoke.

 

“Danny, you’re not a burden.”

 

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He’d been carrying the weight of that fear for so long—ever since his powers had started to spiral, ever since the fainting spells had begun—and hearing her say it out loud, hearing her dismiss the very thing he’d been so terrified of, made something inside him crack.

 

“I don’t want you to have to carry this with me,” Danny said, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than he intended. “You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this.”

 

“I’m not dealing with you,” Sam said, her voice sharper now, more insistent. “I’m with you. Because I want to be. Because I love you, Danny. And that means I’m here for all of it—the good, the bad, and the messy.”

 

Danny looked down, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew she meant it. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. But that didn’t stop the gnawing fear, the doubt that had been festering inside him ever since his health had started to decline.

 

“I just… I don’t want you to regret this,” Danny said quietly. “Being with me.”

 

Sam let out a soft sigh, stepping closer until she was standing right in front of him, her hand reaching out to cup the side of his face. Her touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, Danny let himself lean into it, closing his eyes as he breathed in the faint scent of lavender that always seemed to linger around her.

 

“I won’t regret it,” Sam said, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care if you’re half ghost, or if you’re struggling right now. We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

 

Danny opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, and for the first time in weeks, the tightness in his chest eased just slightly. He could see the truth in her eyes, the unwavering determination that had always been there, the quiet strength that had carried them through so much already.

 

But even as the warmth of her words settled over him, the doubt remained, lurking in the back of his mind, whispering that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t worthy of this. That maybe, no matter how much Sam loved him, no matter how much she reassured him, there would always be a part of him that was too broken, too ghost, to ever fully belong in her world.

 

They stood like that for a long moment, the silence between them thick with unspoken words, before Sam finally pulled away, her hand slipping from his face as she stepped back. Her expression softened, but there was something else there now, something Danny couldn’t quite place.

 

“Look, I get that you’re scared,” Sam said, her voice quieter now. “And I get that you’re struggling. But you don’t have to push me away just because you’re afraid of what might happen. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Danny nodded, though he wasn’t sure he entirely believed her. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam—it was that he didn’t trust himself. He didn’t trust his body, didn’t trust his ghost side. And as long as that uncertainty lingered, he wasn’t sure he could ever truly let go of the fear.

 

“I know,” Danny said, though his voice lacked conviction.

 

Sam gave him a long look, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally nodded. “Come on. Let’s head back.”

 

Danny followed her as they made their way back toward the center of campus, the cool night air wrapping around them like a blanket. He could feel the weight of the conversation hanging between them, heavy and unspoken, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to make himself believe the things Sam had said, how to silence the doubt that had taken root in his mind.

 

The truth was, no matter how much Sam reassured him, no matter how much she loved him, there was a part of Danny that would always feel like he was living between two worlds—never fully human, never fully ghost. And that part of him, the part that felt like he didn’t belong anywhere, was terrified that one day, Sam would realize it too.

 

The walk back toward campus felt longer than it should have. The moon hung high in the sky now, casting long shadows that flickered across the ground as the wind stirred the trees. Danny kept his eyes forward, his hands shoved into his pockets, but his mind was elsewhere—still circling around the conversation with Sam, the way her words had soothed some of his fear while also stirring up others.

 

She was right—of course she was. He didn’t need to push her away just because he was scared. But that didn’t stop the gnawing sense of dread that had taken root in his chest, the fear that one day she’d realize just how much of a burden he really was.

 

The familiar cold pulse of his ghost sense jolted him from his thoughts, a sharp shiver running down the back of his neck. His body went rigid, every nerve on high alert as he scanned the quiet campus around them. The air felt different now—heavy, charged with something that wasn’t just the cool breeze of the night.

 

“Sam,” Danny said quietly, stopping in his tracks. “We’ve got company.”

 

Sam froze beside him, her hand instinctively going to her bag, where she always kept a few weapons—just in case. Her eyes darted around the empty campus, searching for any sign of movement.

 

“Where?” she asked, her voice low but steady.

 

Danny didn’t answer right away. He was too busy focusing on the familiar ache building inside his chest, the way his ghost powers thrummed beneath his skin like they were reacting to something close by. His head was already pounding, his body tired from the day’s events, but he pushed the exhaustion aside, tuning into the familiar energy of the Ghost Zone that had started to bleed into their world.

 

And then he saw it—a flicker of movement near the library, just at the edge of his vision. A dark, hulking shape, its form twisting and shifting as it moved through the shadows. Danny’s heart skipped a beat as recognition set in.

 

Spectra.

 

Of all the ghosts he could’ve run into tonight, Spectra was the last one he wanted to deal with. Her ability to feed off of people’s negative emotions—fear, insecurity, doubt—made her especially dangerous. And with everything that had been going on with him lately, Danny wasn’t exactly in the best headspace to take her on.

 

“Stay back,” Danny said, his voice low as he stepped in front of Sam. “It’s Spectra.”

 

Sam didn’t argue, though her grip on her bag tightened. She knew how dangerous Spectra could be, especially when it came to Danny.

 

Before Danny could move any closer, Spectra stepped out from the shadows, her long, flowing form illuminated by the moonlight. She smiled, her eyes gleaming with something predatory as she floated closer, her body twisting unnervingly as she moved.

 

“Well, well, well,” Spectra said, her voice smooth and sickly sweet. “Look who it is. Danny Phantom, all alone with his human girlfriend. How charming.”

 

Danny clenched his fists, his body already preparing to transform. “What do you want, Spectra?”

 

Spectra’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, nothing much. I just couldn’t help but notice how much delicious insecurity you’ve been radiating lately. It’s like a beacon, drawing me right to you.”

 

Danny’s jaw tightened. He should’ve known Spectra would sense his doubts. It was how she operated—feeding off people’s fears and insecurities, twisting them until they broke. And right now, he was practically an all-you-can-eat buffet.

 

“I’m not in the mood for games,” Danny growled. “Leave. Now.”

 

Spectra’s laughter echoed through the empty campus, cold and mocking. “Oh, Danny, sweetie, I’m not here for a fight. I’m here to help. Don’t you see? I can take all that fear and doubt away. You won’t have to worry about being a burden to your friends anymore.”

 

Danny’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. Her words struck too close to home, hitting on the very fears he’d been trying to bury since his powers started acting up. But he couldn’t let her get to him—not now, not when Sam was here, watching, depending on him.

 

Without another word, Danny transformed, the familiar ring of light circling his body and shifting him into Danny Phantom. The transformation sent a jolt of energy through him, momentarily clearing the dizziness that had been lingering all day, but the relief was short-lived. As soon as the transformation was complete, the exhaustion slammed back into him, harder than before, making his limbs feel heavy, his head swim with the effort of staying upright.

 

He pushed the feeling aside, focusing on Spectra as she hovered a few feet away, still smiling like she was in complete control.

 

“I’m not interested in your help,” Danny said, his voice firm, though the strain was starting to show in his expression. “Now get lost before I make you.”

 

Spectra’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her playful demeanor slipped, replaced by something cold and dangerous. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

With a sudden burst of speed, Spectra lunged at him, her form twisting and contorting as she aimed directly for Danny. He barely had time to react, throwing up his hands to form a shield just as she reached him, her energy slamming into his with enough force to send him skidding backward across the ground.

 

The impact jarred his already fragile state, his head spinning as his legs wobbled beneath him. He stumbled but caught himself, gritting his teeth as he focused on Spectra’s next move.

 

She was fast—too fast. Before he could regain his balance, she was on him again, her hands reaching out to grab hold of his arms, her touch icy cold as it sapped what little energy he had left.

 

“Let go!” Danny growled, struggling to pull free, but Spectra’s grip was iron-tight, her fingers digging into his skin like claws.

 

“You can’t fight me, Danny,” she whispered, her voice soft but insidious. “Not when you’re already so weak.”

 

Danny’s vision blurred, the pounding in his head intensifying as Spectra’s energy wrapped around him like a vice. He could feel his strength draining, his ghost powers flickering in and out as his human side fought to hold on.

 

No… not now…

 

With a final burst of energy, Danny tore himself free, stumbling backward as Spectra’s grip loosened. He raised his hand, firing off a blast of ectoplasm that hit her square in the chest, sending her flying backward.

 

But the effort took everything he had left.

 

His knees buckled, the world spinning wildly around him as he collapsed to the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat sending sharp pain through his limbs, and the cold sweat clinging to his skin made him feel like he was burning from the inside out.

 

He could hear Sam calling his name, her voice distant and muffled, but he couldn’t focus on it. All he could focus on was the overwhelming weight pressing down on him, the sense that his body was shutting down, that he was losing the fight—not just against Spectra, but against himself.

 

“Danny!” Sam’s voice was louder now, closer, as she knelt beside him, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Danny, are you okay? Talk to me!”

 

Danny blinked, struggling to pull himself out of the fog that had settled over his mind. His body felt like it was made of lead, every muscle aching with exhaustion, but he forced himself to sit up, ignoring the way his head spun as he did.

 

“I’m fine,” he rasped, though the words felt hollow in his mouth.

 

Sam didn’t look convinced. Her eyes were wide with concern as she helped him sit up, her hands trembling slightly as she checked him over for injuries.

 

“You’re not fine,” she said, her voice tight with worry. “You’re shaking, Danny. You can barely stand.”

 

“I’ll be okay,” Danny insisted, though even he didn’t believe it. His entire body felt like it was shutting down, his ghost powers barely flickering beneath the surface. But the last thing he wanted was to worry Sam—or Tucker, for that matter. They already had enough on their plates without having to babysit him.

 

“We need to get you back to the dorm,” Sam said, her voice firm but gentle. “You can barely stay upright. We’ll call Tucker and—”

 

“No,” Danny said quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t want Tucker to see me like this. I’m fine, Sam. Just… just give me a minute.”

 

Sam frowned, clearly torn between wanting to help him and respecting his wishes, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she stayed by his side, her hand resting gently on his back as he tried to steady himself, his breath still coming in shallow gasps.

 

He knew she was right. He wasn’t fine. But right now, the thought of being a burden to Sam and Tucker felt worse than the pain radiating through his body.

 

The world around Danny still felt hazy, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he tried to pull himself together. His chest felt tight, each breath shallow and strained, and his limbs ached with exhaustion that seemed to dig into his very bones. But even as his body screamed for him to stop, to rest, Danny’s mind was racing, refusing to let go of the fact that Spectra was still out there.

 

His ghost sense flickered again—a sharp, icy pulse at the back of his neck, reminding him that the fight wasn’t over yet. Spectra had been hit hard, but not hard enough. She was still out there, lurking in the shadows, feeding off of his fear and doubt, waiting for him to falter. And right now, with the way his body was rebelling against him, that moment felt dangerously close.

 

Danny clenched his fists, ignoring the trembling in his hands as he forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled beneath him, and for a moment, the world tilted dangerously, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to let the dizziness pull him under. Sam was beside him in an instant, her hand gripping his arm, trying to steady him.

 

“Danny, stop,” she said, her voice urgent. “You’re in no shape to keep going. You need to rest.”

 

“I can’t,” Danny rasped, his voice hoarse from the strain. “Spectra’s still out there. If I don’t stop her now, she’s going to come after us again.”

 

Sam’s grip tightened on his arm, her dark eyes flashing with worry. “You’re not going to be able to stop her if you pass out first.”

 

Danny’s breath hitched in his chest, the pain in his ribs flaring up as he took another shallow breath. She was right—he knew she was right—but that didn’t change the fact that Spectra was still a threat. He couldn’t leave her out there, not with Sam and Tucker so close by. He had to finish this.

 

“I can do it,” Danny insisted, though even he wasn’t sure if he believed it anymore. His ghost powers felt weak, barely flickering beneath his skin, but the adrenaline surging through him was enough to keep him upright—for now.

 

Sam opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything, a dark figure shifted in the shadows behind them, its form twisting and contorting as it reappeared. Spectra. Her body was still shimmering from the ectoblast Danny had hit her with earlier, her eyes blazing with anger as she floated back into view.

 

“You really thought that would be enough to stop me?” Spectra sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re weaker than I thought, Danny Phantom. But that just makes it easier for me to finish you off.”

 

Danny’s heart pounded in his chest, the cold dread settling in as he squared his shoulders, readying himself for another round. His head was still swimming, his vision blurred at the edges, but he forced his body to move, stepping in front of Sam as he prepared for the next attack.

 

Spectra lunged forward, her form shifting into a blur of motion as she aimed straight for Danny. He barely had time to react, his body sluggish as he raised his hands, summoning what little energy he had left to fire another ectoblast. The green light flared from his palms, hitting Spectra with a burst of energy that sent her reeling backward, but the effort drained him almost completely.

 

Danny staggered, his knees buckling as the last of his strength left him. His breath came in short, painful gasps, and his heart raced wildly in his chest, each beat pounding in his ears like a drum. His body felt like it was shutting down, his ghost powers flickering weakly beneath his skin, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might actually pass out.

 

But Spectra wasn’t done yet.

 

She floated back up, her eyes glowing with fury as she unleashed a powerful blast of energy, aiming directly for Danny’s chest. He didn’t have time to dodge—not with the way his body was barely holding itself together. The energy slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing into the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

 

“Danny!” Sam’s voice was frantic, but the sound was muffled, like it was coming from far away.

 

Danny tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. Every muscle ached, his head spinning wildly as the world tilted around him. He could feel the cold grip of Spectra’s energy wrapping around him, sapping the last of his strength, and for the first time in a long time, Danny wasn’t sure if he could win this fight.

 

I can’t give up… I have to protect them…

 

Summoning every ounce of willpower he had left, Danny forced himself to his feet, swaying dangerously as his vision darkened around the edges. Spectra was laughing now, her voice echoing in the empty campus as she floated above him, her form shifting like a shadow.

 

“You’re pathetic,” she taunted, her voice dripping with disdain. “Look at you. You can barely stand, and yet you still think you can win? You’re weak, Danny Phantom. Always have been.”

 

Danny’s fists clenched at her words, a surge of anger rising up inside him. He wasn’t going to let her win. He wasn’t going to let her hurt Sam or Tucker—not while he still had breath in his body. Even if it meant pushing himself past his limits, even if it meant breaking himself in the process, he would stop her.

 

With a ragged breath, Danny raised his hands again, gathering what little energy he had left. His body screamed in protest, every nerve alight with pain, but he ignored it, focusing on the cold fire building in his chest. He couldn’t afford to hold back now. This was it—his last shot.

 

With a final burst of strength, Danny unleashed a powerful ectoblast, the green energy roaring to life as it shot toward Spectra. The blast hit her dead center, engulfing her in a swirl of light and sound, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze.

 

Then, with a final shriek, Spectra’s form flickered and dissolved, disappearing into the night as she was banished back to the Ghost Zone.

 

The silence that followed was deafening.

 

Danny stood there, his breath coming in short, painful gasps, his body trembling from the effort. His head was spinning wildly, his vision darkening, and he could feel the last of his energy slipping away. But Spectra was gone. The fight was over.

 

It’s over…

 

But before he could take another breath, the world tilted sharply beneath him, and his knees gave out.

 

He hit the ground hard, his body collapsing under its own weight as the exhaustion slammed into him like a freight train. His vision went black for a moment, the cold numbness spreading through his limbs as his ghost powers flickered out entirely, leaving him trapped in his human form.

 

“Danny!” Sam was beside him in an instant, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to pull him up, her voice frantic with worry. “Danny, come on, stay with me!”

 

Danny blinked, his vision swimming as he tried to focus on her face, but the darkness was closing in, his body refusing to cooperate. His head felt heavy, his chest tight, and every breath was a struggle, the pain radiating through him like fire.

 

“I’m fine,” Danny rasped, though the words felt weak and hollow in his mouth.

 

“You’re not fine,” Sam said, her voice trembling. “You’re in bad shape. We need to get you back to the dorm. You need to rest.”

 

Danny shook his head, his body swaying dangerously as he tried to sit up. He couldn’t stop now—not when there was still a chance that Spectra could come back. Not when Sam and Tucker were still in danger.

 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, though even he could hear how weak he sounded. “I just… need a minute.”

 

But the truth was, he didn’t have a minute. His body was shutting down, his ghost powers completely drained, and the overwhelming exhaustion was pulling him under, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

 

Sam’s eyes filled with tears, her hands shaking as she gently lowered him back to the ground. “Danny, please. You need help. You can’t keep doing this.”

 

“I have to,” Danny muttered, his eyes fluttering shut as the darkness finally claimed him. “I have to protect you…”

 

And then everything went black.

Chapter 5: iv. four

The room was dark, save for the thin sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the floor. The air was still, heavy with the quiet hum of the night, but for Danny, there was no rest. His body lay motionless in his bed, his limbs leaden and his chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. But even in the quiet, even in the darkness, his mind raced, caught in the endless loop of exhaustion and the gnawing sense that he was running out of time.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. Not really, anyway. Sure, there had been moments—short, fleeting stretches where he’d closed his eyes and drifted into a restless, fitful sleep. But those moments never lasted. Ghost fights, the weight of schoolwork, and the ever-present ache in his body kept him from sinking into any real rest. Every time his eyes closed, the world around him seemed to pull him back, demanding more of him than he had left to give.

 

Tonight was no different.

 

His limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move, and his head pounded with a dull, persistent ache that had settled into his skull hours ago, refusing to leave. His ghost powers, usually a quiet hum beneath his skin, were faint now, barely noticeable, and yet they left him feeling drained in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. It was deeper than that—like his very soul was being pulled apart piece by piece, leaving him hollow inside.

 

I can’t keep doing this, he thought, his chest tightening with the familiar weight of anxiety.

 

He turned his head slightly, his eyes landing on the faint outline of his phone on the nightstand beside him. The last message from Jazz was still there, lingering on the screen—a simple check-in to see how he was doing after the fight with Spectra. He hadn’t answered yet, not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure if he could admit, even to Jazz, just how bad things were getting.

 

I should be fine by now , he thought, his mind drifting back to the fight. He had pushed himself past the breaking point, and he knew it. But even after collapsing in Sam’s arms, even after nearly passing out from sheer exhaustion, the weight of it all hadn’t lifted. His body felt like it was on the verge of giving out, his ghost powers barely flickering beneath the surface, but he couldn’t stop. There was too much at stake.

 

He could hear Tucker’s faint snores from the other side of the room, a quiet reminder that life was still going on around him, that his friends were still here, trying to help him even when they didn’t know how. Sam had checked on him earlier, her worry barely concealed behind the usual bravado, but he’d brushed her off, insisting that he just needed rest. And maybe that was true. Maybe he just needed a break—some time to let his body heal, to let his ghost powers recharge.

 

But the truth was, Danny didn’t know how to rest anymore.

 

His phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message, and he forced himself to reach for it, his hand trembling slightly from the effort. The light from the screen hurt his eyes, but he squinted against it, reading the new message.

 

Jazz: Hey, Danny. Just wanted to check in again. How are you feeling?

 

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as he debated what to say. Jazz had been worried about him for weeks now, ever since the fainting spells had started, and he knew she wouldn’t stop asking until he gave her some kind of answer. But what was he supposed to say? That he felt like he was falling apart? That he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up?

 

His fingers moved slowly, typing out a short response.

 

Danny: I’m okay. Just tired. I’ll be fine.

 

It was a lie, and he knew it. But the last thing he wanted was for Jazz to worry even more than she already was.

 

The phone buzzed almost immediately with her reply.

 

Jazz: Are you sure? I can come up again if you need me.

 

Danny stared at the message, his chest tightening. He knew she meant well—Jazz always did—but the idea of her seeing him like this, of her knowing just how bad things had gotten, made his stomach churn. He didn’t want to burden her with this, didn’t want her to see how much he was struggling.

 

Danny: I’m sure. Just need some sleep.

 

He set the phone down, his hand dropping back to his side as he closed his eyes again, trying to will himself into sleep. But even as the exhaustion pulled at him, even as his body begged for rest, his mind refused to let go. The faint echo of his ghost powers still hummed beneath his skin, weak and fragile, and the ever-present sense of danger kept his muscles tense, ready for the next fight, the next threat that would pull him back into action.

 

Just sleep , he told himself, but the words felt hollow, distant.

 

Time passed in a blur, the darkness of the room pressing in on him, but sleep remained elusive. Every time his mind started to drift, the faint pulse of his ghost sense jolted him back to reality, pulling him further away from the rest he so desperately needed.

 

And then, just as his mind started to quiet, just as the weight of his exhaustion began to drag him under, the familiar chill of his ghost sense flared again—this time stronger, sharper.

 

Danny’s eyes snapped open, his heart racing as he sat up in bed, his ghost sense still buzzing at the back of his neck. He could feel it now—something nearby, something moving through the shadows of the night. His body screamed in protest as he stood, his legs shaky and his head spinning, but he forced himself to move, his instincts kicking in.

 

He stumbled toward the door, grabbing his jacket as he went. Tucker stirred in his bed, blinking groggily as Danny made his way to the door.

 

“Danny?” Tucker mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “What’s going on?”

 

Danny didn’t answer right away, his focus already shifting to the faint energy that pulsed through the campus outside. He could feel it growing stronger, more urgent.

 

“Ghost,” Danny muttered, his voice low as he pulled the door open. “Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”

 

Tucker sat up, rubbing his eyes as he watched Danny move toward the hallway. “Dude, you’re barely standing. You can’t keep doing this.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Danny said, though the words felt hollow in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Tucker or himself.

 

Tucker frowned, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and stop Danny when his ghost sense was flaring like this. Still, the concern in his eyes was impossible to miss.

 

“Just… be careful, okay?” Tucker said, his voice quieter now.

 

Danny nodded, though the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him with every step. He stepped out into the hallway, his legs unsteady as he made his way toward the exit. The air outside was cold, the night still and quiet, but the pulse of his ghost sense grew stronger, leading him toward the edge of campus.

 

The dizziness hit Danny like a tidal wave as he trudged across campus. His vision narrowed at the edges, dark spots blooming with each unsteady step. His legs felt leaden, as if gravity had doubled its grip on him, dragging him down with every movement. His breaths came shallow and quick, his chest tight, his body protesting every second of his stubborn forward march. But there was no time to stop. The ghost’s presence was unmistakable, its energy curling through the air like smoke, drawing him closer.

 

When he reached the clock tower, he saw it.

 

A ghost—tall, shadowy, and unfamiliar—drifted in the dim light, its form shimmering like heat waves off asphalt. The energy it radiated was oppressive, a hum in the back of Danny’s skull that made his stomach churn. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in time with the ghost’s steady advance.

 

Instinctively, he reached for his powers. The faint flicker of energy responded sluggishly, like a sputtering engine on a freezing morning. His human form felt like a cage, his limbs sluggish and unresponsive, his own body betraying him. He knew the answer. He always knew the answer.

 

With a flash of light, he transformed.

 

Relief.

 

The moment he shifted into his Phantom form, the oppressive weight lifted from his body. The dizziness evaporated, his steps no longer dragging but firm and steady. The fatigue that had clawed at him moments before dulled to a whisper. Energy coursed through him like an electrical current, sparking with clarity and strength.

 

This is what normal feels like, Danny thought, his breath steady now, his heart no longer thundering in his chest. No—better than normal. This is alive.

 

But there was no time to savor it. The ghost turned, its hollow eyes locking onto him, glowing with an otherworldly malice. Its smoky tendrils lashed out, and Danny darted aside with ease, his body moving instinctively, fluid and sharp.

 

He raised his hands, summoning an ectoblast. The green energy crackled eagerly in his palms, solid and ready. For the first time in hours, he felt powerful, balanced—whole. With a shout, he hurled the blast, watching it collide with the ghost’s torso in a brilliant flash. The creature howled, its form rippling as it recoiled.

 

The fight was a blur of motion—dodging, firing, shielding. His Phantom form carried him, every move precise, every attack delivered with the confidence of someone who belonged in this battle. He wasn’t the weak, staggering human dragging himself across campus. Here, he was the hero. Here, he was Danny Phantom.

 

But even in the heat of the fight, the nagging thought lingered. It was all borrowed time.

 

When the ghost finally dissipated into a wisp of energy, Danny hovered in the air, his chest heaving. The rush of battle began to fade, and with it came the creeping dread of the inevitable. His time was up.

 

As he landed, the transformation back to his human form struck with brutal clarity. The energy drained from his body in an instant, leaving him hollow and trembling. The crushing weight returned, the dizziness roaring back as his knees buckled beneath him. He stumbled against the clock tower, clutching the rough stone for support as his vision blurred. His head throbbed, the earlier clarity now a distant memory.

 

Each breath felt shallow and labored, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. The reprieve of being Phantom had only made the return to his human form more unbearable. He slumped to the ground, his hands shaking as he fought to steady himself.

 

Danny stood there, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling from the effort. The ghost had been defeated, its energy scattered to the wind, but the victory felt hollow. His vision blurred again, dark spots dancing at the edges of his sight, and the weight of his own exhaustion pressed down on him like a crushing force.

 

He could feel his body giving out.

 

The world tilted beneath him, his legs buckling as the last of his strength left him. He collapsed to the ground, the cold earth rushing up to meet him as his vision went dark. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, the sharp thrum of it echoing in his ears as his ghost powers fizzled out entirely, leaving him trapped in his human form.

 

And then, everything went black.

 

-

 

When Danny came to, the world around him was a haze of dim light and muffled sounds, his body sinking into the mattress like it was made of quicksand. His limbs felt weighted, each breath scraping against his lungs as though he were trying to inflate a balloon made of stone. Every inch of him ached with a deep, persistent exhaustion that no amount of rest could seem to touch.

 

He blinked slowly, the motion heavy, his vision swimming until the walls of his dorm room finally settled into view. The desk lamp glowed faintly, casting long, jagged shadows that stretched across the cluttered floor. At the desk, Tucker sat hunched over his laptop, the faint click-clack of keys breaking the suffocating quiet. The room smelled faintly of coffee and the lingering metallic tang of ectoplasm.

 

Danny tried to sit up, his arms trembling as he pressed his palms into the mattress. They gave out almost immediately, and he collapsed back into the bed, the effort leaving him winded. He winced, the sharp throb of his head reminding him of the battle—of the way his powers had sputtered and flickered like a dying candle.

 

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice so weak and dry that it barely carried across the room.

 

Tucker spun in his chair, his expression shifting from startled to relieved in an instant. “Danny! You’re awake!”

 

Danny offered a faint, shaky smile. “How long…?”

 

“Few hours.” Tucker’s voice softened as he leaned forward. “Sam dragged you back here after the fight. You were… pretty bad, man.”

 

Danny let his eyes drift shut for a moment, Tucker’s words swirling around in his mind. He remembered the ghost and the fight. How his strength had given out, his powers sputtering until all he could do was push through on sheer willpower. Even thinking about it made his chest tighten and his limbs ache.

 

“How bad?” Danny murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Tucker hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You fainted right after the fight,” he said finally. “You were out cold, muttering weird stuff when you came to. Sam stayed with you for a while, but you’ve been kind of… off.”

 

Danny nodded weakly, though the motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His body felt like it was still in freefall, like it hadn’t hit the bottom yet, and every passing second only added to the strain. His chest felt hollow, his muscles screaming with every slight shift of his weight.

 

“How do you feel?” Tucker asked, his voice tinged with caution.

 

“Like I got run over by a semi,” Danny muttered, his trembling hand dragging over his face. “Everything hurts.”

 

The room tilted slightly, and Danny fought the rising tide of nausea in his stomach. He felt worse than he had after any battle, worse than he had any right to feel. The ache wasn’t just in his muscles—it was deeper, woven into his bones, his very being.

 

Tucker frowned, his worry evident. “You sure I shouldn’t call Jazz? Or—?”

 

“No,” Danny interrupted, his voice sharp despite its hoarseness. “I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

 

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

 

Danny lay still, the weight of exhaustion pinning him to the bed. His body was breaking down, and the terrifying thought that crept through his mind over and over was that this wasn’t just recovery. This was something deeper, something worse.

 

And then there was the other part. The part that scared him even more.

 

He’d felt fine—no, better than fine—in his Phantom form. When he was in that state, the dizziness, the heaviness, the bone-deep fatigue had melted away like a bad dream. His ghost form had felt sharper, faster, alive in a way his human body hadn’t in months.

 

Why?

 

The question clawed at him, relentless. His ghost powers made him feel stronger, but at what cost? The moment he’d changed back, his body had hit him like a freight train, the pain and exhaustion snapping back with a vengeance. It was like he wasn’t built to hold both sides of himself at once—as though his human and ghost halves were at war, each tearing at the other until there was nothing left of him.

 

What if it’s getting worse? Danny thought, the knot of anxiety in his chest tightening. What if one day I can’t come back? Or worse—what if I don’t want to?

 

“Danny?” Tucker’s voice broke through the storm of thoughts, and Danny forced his eyes open to see his friend watching him with a mixture of concern and helplessness. “Look, I know you’re trying to tough it out, but maybe you need to—”

 

“I just need time,” Danny said, cutting him off again. His voice cracked, his resolve wavering. “Please.”

 

Tucker hesitated but nodded reluctantly. “I’ll grab you some water,” he said, standing. “Just… don’t do anything dumb while I’m gone.”

 

Danny didn’t respond as Tucker left, the dorm door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening, pressing in on Danny from all sides as he lay there, every breath feeling like a battle.

 

He clenched his hands into fists, the tremor in his fingers making the movement feel hollow. He could still feel the echo of his ghost powers deep inside him, the faintest hum of energy like a whisper in the back of his mind. It was the only part of him that didn’t feel broken, the only part of him that didn’t hurt.

 

But I can’t stay like that forever, Danny thought bitterly, staring at the ceiling. It’s not real. It’s just... easier.

 

And yet, as he lay there, his body screaming at him from every nerve ending, he couldn’t help but wonder. What if it was real? What if his ghost form was who he really was now, and his human body—the one he’d spent so long trying to protect—was the lie?

 

The familiar buzzing of his phone cut through the silence, pulling Danny from his spiraling thoughts. He glanced over at the screen, squinting against the harsh light. A message from Sam.

 

Sam: How are you feeling? Tucker told me you’ve been out of it since this morning. Do you need me to bring anything?

 

Danny stared at the message, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. What was he supposed to say? That he felt like his body was falling apart? That no matter how much he rested, the exhaustion never seemed to fade? He didn’t want to worry her, didn’t want to drag her into the mess he was dealing with. But he also couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine.

 

He typed out a quick response.

 

Danny: I’m okay. Just tired. I think I overdid it.

 

The reply was almost instant.

 

Sam: Danny, you collapsed. That’s more than just “overdoing it.” I’m coming by after my last class. We need to talk.

 

Danny sighed, setting the phone down on the nightstand, its faint vibration from an incoming notification quickly silenced. She was right—of course, she was right—but the thought of sitting face-to-face with Sam, admitting just how bad things had gotten, made his stomach churn. He wasn’t ready to unravel the tangled knot of fear and exhaustion tightening inside him. Not yet.

 

He leaned back against the pillows, his body protesting the movement with a symphony of aches and pains. The room felt like it was closing in—too warm, too still, the air thick and suffocating. A cold sweat slicked his skin, making the sheets cling uncomfortably, and every shallow breath was a battle against the leaden weight pressing on his chest.

 

Danny’s eyelids grew heavy, the fog of exhaustion pulling him under like an undertow. He could almost sleep if he let go—if he stopped thinking about how wrong everything felt.

 

Then the door creaked open.

 

“Danny?”

 

Sam’s voice cut through the haze, soft but laced with worry. She slipped into the room, her bag slung over one shoulder, her boots making faint thuds against the floor. Her gaze found him immediately, scanning his face as if searching for evidence he wasn’t as bad as she feared.

 

“Sam…” Danny croaked, forcing his eyes open. His voice was hoarse, barely audible, and even forming the single syllable sent a dull ache through his chest. “I told you I was fine.”

 

“You’re not fine.” Sam crossed the room in a few strides, her bag dropping onto the desk chair as she sat at the edge of his bed. Her tone was steady but firm, a careful balance of concern and determination. “You look like you’re barely holding on. Have you eaten anything today?”

 

“No.” Danny shook his head weakly, the motion making his vision tilt dangerously. “I’m not hungry.”

 

“Danny, you have to—” Sam reached out, resting the back of her hand against his forehead. Her touch was cool, and Danny couldn’t help leaning into it, if only for a moment. He hadn’t realized how feverish he felt until her hand was there, soothing against his overheated skin.

 

“You’re burning up,” Sam murmured, her brows furrowing. “This isn’t just exhaustion. Something’s really wrong.”

 

Danny closed his eyes, letting out a slow, shaky breath. She was right, but the words stuck in his throat. His body didn’t feel like it was just tired—it felt like it was shutting down piece by piece, slipping out of his control.

 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Danny admitted after a long pause, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s like… it’s like my body’s stuck. Like it can’t bounce back anymore. Every time I go back to normal, it’s worse.”

 

Sam’s expression softened, her hand shifting to rest lightly on his arm. “You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. You’re running on fumes, Danny. Whatever’s going on, we need to figure it out before—” She stopped, biting her lip.

 

“Before I can’t fight anymore,” Danny finished for her, his voice flat. He looked down at his trembling hands, the exhaustion radiating through him like a dull hum. “What if there’s nothing we can do? What if this is just… how it’s gonna be now?”

 

Sam’s grip on his arm tightened, her voice sharp with conviction. “We’re not giving up. Jazz is coming this weekend, right? She’ll know what to do. We’ll figure this out together. But you have to let us help you.”

 

Danny nodded faintly, though her words didn’t quite reach the part of him that had already spiraled into doubt. He couldn’t shake the memory of how alive he’d felt in his Phantom form—how the crushing fatigue and heaviness had vanished the moment he transformed. But it hadn’t lasted.

 

“Sam,” he started, his voice trembling. “I feel better when I’m… when I’m Phantom. It’s like all of this,”—he gestured weakly to his chest, his legs, his shaking hands—“it’s gone. Like I’m not broken anymore.”

 

Sam blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Better? How?”

 

“Stronger. Faster. Like I’m not sick. Like I’m not… me,” Danny said, his voice cracking on the last word. He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration bleeding into his tone. “But then I change back, and it’s like I’m paying for it all at once. Worse than before.”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed, her worry deepening. “Danny, that’s not—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath before continuing. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work, right? Your powers are part of you, not some… temporary fix.”

 

Danny let out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t feel that way.” He leaned back, his head thudding against the pillow. “It feels like my body can’t handle both anymore. Like I’m stuck between the two.”

 

Sam’s hand moved to his shoulder, her touch grounding him. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice steady and unwavering. “You’re not alone in this, Danny. We’ll figure it out together.”

 

For the first time all day, Danny let himself relax, if only slightly, into the reassurance of her words. But deep down, the fear lingered—quiet, insistent, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep balancing between his two halves, and the thought of one half winning—of losing himself in the process—was more terrifying than any ghost he’d ever faced.

Chapter 6: v. five

The sky hung in a muted gray, the kind of overcast that dulled everything it touched. Buildings looked drained of color, trees swayed without conviction, and the air carried the kind of chill that made people hunch into themselves. Across the campus quad, students drifted in quiet clusters, their conversations muffled by scarves and the cold.

It was a typical afternoon—on the surface, anyway. But for Danny, everything felt far away. Muted. Like he was trapped behind glass, watching the world carry on without him.

He sat slouched at a picnic table near the edge of the quad, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His head throbbed with a slow, rhythmic pulse, but it was more than pain that weighed him down. There was a hollowness inside him, something that no amount of sleep—or pretending—could seem to fix.

The worst part? He hadn’t told Tucker or Sam how bad things had gotten.

Sure, they knew he wasn’t doing great. Kind of hard to hide that after collapsing during the fight with Spectra. But Danny had brushed it off, insisted it was nothing—just residual burnout, a rough patch. All he needed was rest. That’s what he told them. That’s what he kept telling himself.

But now, almost a week later, his body still hadn’t bounced back. If anything, it felt like he was sinking further. The fatigue clung to him like lead, tightening around his limbs. His powers flickered, faint and unreliable beneath his skin. The dizziness that had come and gone over the past month now showed no signs of leaving. Even just existing like this felt like wading through tar.

He was starting to feel like a ghost in both halves of himself.

“Hey, man. You doing okay?”

Tucker’s voice cut through the fog, grounding him. Danny looked up slowly to find his friend standing by the table, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. His tone was casual, but his eyes were tight with concern.

“Yeah,” Danny lied, dragging a crooked smile onto his face. “Just tired.”

He’d said it so many times lately the words were starting to lose meaning. A reflex more than anything. But Tucker didn’t buy it—not anymore. Danny could see the shift in his friend’s expression, the deepening frown that said he wasn’t going to let this go.

Tucker slid into the seat across from him. “You’ve been tired. For days. Sam’s worried. I’m worried.”

Danny glanced away, fixating on a crack in the table’s wood. His hands were folded in his lap, trembling slightly—whether from cold, fatigue, or whatever this was, he couldn’t tell. He pressed them flat against his jeans, as if that could force the tremor into stillness.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, but even he didn’t believe it. “I just need more time.”

Tucker sighed. “That’s what you said three days ago. And now you look like you’re about to pass out just sitting here.”

The words hit a nerve, and Danny felt his chest tighten. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. How was he supposed to explain this? That every time he phased back to human, it felt like his body was short-circuiting? That he was scared to even transform sometimes because his ghost side felt like the only part of him that wasn’t falling apart?

“I just…” His throat closed up around the words. His mouth moved, but no sound followed. He couldn’t tell Tucker—not because he didn’t trust him, but because saying it out loud would make it real.

Tucker’s voice softened. “Danny. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself. You never did.”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. The pressure behind his eyes was growing now—not just from the headache, but from everything he was holding back. The fear. The guilt. The quiet realization that he might not bounce back this time.

“I can handle it,” he said at last, quieter now. Almost pleading. “It’s just a rough patch. I’ll get through it.”

Tucker didn’t argue. He just watched him, gaze filled with concern he refused to voice. That silence—the kind that said I don’t believe you, but I’m not going to push—was somehow worse than confrontation.

Later that evening, Danny sat alone in his dorm, the glow of his desk lamp painting yellow stripes on the walls. The air conditioner hummed faintly overhead, too cold for comfort, but he didn’t have the energy to get up and fix it.

His textbook sat open in front of him, pages untouched. His gaze drifted, unfocused. The heaviness hadn’t lifted—it had only settled deeper. Like gravity had doubled around him and his body hadn’t been designed to withstand it.

His phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a text from Sam.

Sam: Tucker says you were out of it today. Are you okay?

Danny stared at the message. The tightness returned—an ache lodged in his chest, familiar now. He hadn’t told Sam either. The last time she’d asked, he’d dismissed it. Another lie about rest, about being fine.

Now, the truth pressed at his fingertips.

Tell her, a voice whispered inside him. Tell her you’re scared. Tell her you don’t know what’s happening to you. That you feel like you’re slipping.

But instead, his thumbs moved automatically.

Danny: I’m okay. Just tired. Don’t worry about me.

He set the phone down, the lie heavy in his hands. It wasn’t even convincing anymore. Not to himself. Not to them. And yet, he couldn’t stop saying it.

The room was too quiet. Too still. And in that silence, Danny realized just how alone he felt. Not because his friends weren’t there—but because he wasn’t letting them be. He kept pretending, kept pushing them away. Not to protect himself, but to protect them from the truth he couldn’t face.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered, more to the empty room than anyone else.

But even as the words slipped out, he didn’t know how to stop.

The low hum of a car engine filtered in through the dorm window, steady and familiar. Danny sat beside the sill, hunched slightly, arms curled loosely around his middle as he watched the car park below. The moment Jazz stepped out, he felt a flicker of warmth. She slung her bag over her shoulder, eyes scanning the building until she spotted him. When she waved, her hand cutting through the gray light of late afternoon, Danny managed a tired but genuine smile.

It had been a few days since the last episode—the fainting spell in class still fresh in his memory, though he’d brushed it off when Sam and Tucker asked. Claimed it was low blood sugar, maybe dehydration. Something easy. Something fixable.

Since then, he’d had a couple “okay” days. Not great, not normal, but functional. Still, every good moment carried an undercurrent of dread, a quiet countdown ticking somewhere in the back of his mind. The ghost sense didn’t warn him of this—this creeping instability, this wrongness in his body that had nothing to do with Phantom.

By the time Jazz knocked and stepped into his dorm room, Danny had taken a seat on his bed, arms resting on his legs, fingers curled slightly to keep them from shaking.

She took one look at him and softened. Her usual “protective older sister” expression was there—eyes scanning him for signs of distress—but there was relief, too. Faint, but there.

“Hey, Danny,” she said, easing her bag onto the desk chair. “You look… better.”

Danny huffed a soft laugh, though the fatigue still leaked through his voice. “Yeah. Today’s a good day.”

Jazz arched an eyebrow at the phrasing. Good day meant something different to them now. She sat beside him and studied him with quiet intensity. The color in his face had improved. The bruised circles under his eyes were lighter. But the tension in his shoulders, the constant micro-adjustments in posture like he couldn’t get comfortable—those told a different story.

“So.” Her voice was deliberately casual, a gentle nudge. “Tell me how things have been.”

He hesitated. Jazz could always see through him, and she hadn’t driven all the way here to hear him gloss it over.

“Honestly?” He leaned back against the headboard with a tired sigh. “It’s been up and down. I mean… yeah, some days I feel mostly normal. Like today. I can breathe without my chest feeling tight. I can sit upright without the room spinning. I feel like myself again—for a little while.”

Jazz nodded, waiting.

“But then there are the other days. The bad ones. Like… the other day I fainted. In the middle of class.” His voice dipped, like he wasn’t sure he should be admitting it. “There wasn’t any warning. One second I was fine, and the next, everything just dropped out from under me. I didn’t even feel it coming.”

Jazz’s posture shifted. “That’s not just bad. That’s dangerous, Danny.”

“I know,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s not just fainting. Sometimes I wake up and it’s like my body’s out of sync. Like my nervous system didn’t load in properly. My heart races for no reason, my hands go cold, and I just… can’t move right. It’s like trying to exist with a loose wire.”

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. “And it’s worse when I’m human. When I’m Phantom, I feel fine. Energized, even. It’s like flipping a switch. But when I go back…” He shook his head. “It’s like my body doesn’t know what to do with itself.”

Jazz’s frown deepened. She tapped her fingers on her knee, thoughtful, then reached into her bag. From inside, she pulled a thick spiral notebook, worn at the edges and full of colorful sticky notes. She flipped it open, rifling through the pages.

“I’ve been looking into a few things,” she said, scanning her notes. “And what you’re describing—it lines up with a disorder I’ve been researching. Dysautonomia. It affects the autonomic nervous system—the part that handles stuff your body’s supposed to do on autopilot: regulate your heart rate, blood pressure, digestion, body temperature…”

Danny blinked. “Dysauto—wait, no, don’t make me say that. What is it, exactly?”

Jazz smiled faintly but kept her tone serious. “Basically, it means your body is having trouble keeping itself stable. If your nervous system isn’t regulating those automatic functions correctly, you get symptoms like dizziness, fainting, fatigue, heat intolerance… sound familiar?”

Danny’s breath caught. “Yeah. That sounds… a lot like me.”

Jazz turned her notebook toward him, showing charts and scribbled observations. “It can be triggered by trauma, infection, even long-term stress. But in your case? I think it might be ectoplasmic interference.”

Danny frowned. “You mean… the accident?”

“Exactly.” Her expression grew more focused. “You were exposed to a massive dose of ectoplasmic energy—something no one’s body was designed to handle, especially not a living one. Now that your biology’s split, half-human and half-ghost, it’s possible your human side is struggling to regulate itself. The autonomic system is still human… but it’s operating with ghost interference.”

Danny sat very still. The implications curled cold fingers around his ribs.

“I always thought it was just part of being half-ghost,” he said. “That the exhaustion and the weird glitches were just… the cost of my powers. But this feels different. It’s getting worse.”

Jazz nodded solemnly. “It could explain why your ghost form feels fine. That side of you isn’t bound by the same physical limitations. But your human body is still dealing with the fallout. It’s like it’s trying to adapt to something it was never meant to handle.”

Danny stared down at his lap, chest tightening.

“So what does that mean for me?” he asked. “Is this permanent? Is there anything we can do?”

Jazz hesitated. “There’s no cure for dysautonomia. Not yet. But it can be managed. There are treatments—some medical, some lifestyle-based. We’d need to monitor your symptoms closely, look for triggers, and help your body cope when it crashes. Hydration, salt intake, compression garments, energy conservation techniques…”

Danny blinked. “Compression what now?”

She smiled, just a little. “We’ll get there.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Danny let her words settle into the space around him. There was no fix. No magic reversal. But there was something else: understanding. A name for the storm he’d been weathering. A map, even if the road ahead looked steep.

“So I just have to live with it?” he asked. “With the fainting, the crashes, the constant guessing game about whether I’ll be able to stand up tomorrow?”

Jazz reached over and squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to live with it alone. That’s the difference.”

Danny’s throat tightened. He looked away, trying to blink back the pressure in his eyes.

“Sam and Tucker would want to know,” Jazz added gently. “They already do know something’s wrong. You’re not protecting them by hiding it—you’re just isolating yourself.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay. I’ll talk to them.”

It wasn’t much. But it was a start.

Jazz offered him a soft smile. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

Danny nodded, his chest still tight with fear, but for the first time in weeks, he felt like he wasn’t drowning in the dark. There were still too many unknowns, too many loose threads and questions without answers—but now, at least, he had a direction. A starting point.

The weight of Jazz’s words lingered in the space between them, thick and unmoving, like smoke in a room with no windows. Dysautonomia. A name. A fragile foothold. And with it, the cold realization that even a diagnosis might not come with a cure.

That terrified him.

He shifted on the bed, his fingers absently plucking at a loose thread on the blanket. His heart hadn’t settled. The erratic rhythm beat hard beneath his ribs, tension coiling through his limbs, a static charge that wouldn’t ground. He didn’t know if it was the fear of a chronic condition—or the fear that no one would ever really understand what it meant for someone like him.

“You know, it makes sense,” Jazz murmured, flipping through her notebook. Her eyes skimmed across annotated diagrams and highlighted paragraphs. “Your body’s been through a lot since the accident. You’re not working with a standard nervous system anymore. There’s no medical precedent for what ectoplasm does long term. Especially to… well, a hybrid system like yours.”

Danny exhaled shakily, running both hands through his hair. “Yeah… but what do we do about it? I can’t exactly walk into a clinic and say, ‘Hi, I’m half-ghost, please take my blood pressure.’”

Jazz winced at the truth in his sarcasm. “I know. That’s the problem. We’re flying blind. There’s only so much I can research, Danny. We need real data—labs, testing, the kind of stuff I can’t do on my dorm room floor.”

Danny closed his eyes. The pressure behind them pulsed. His body was telling him he needed to rest, but his mind wouldn’t stop spinning. He couldn’t get help—not real help. Not without risking everything.

“Even if I could tell a doctor,” he muttered, “they wouldn’t know what to do with me. There’s no chart for this.”

“No,” Jazz agreed quietly. “There isn’t. But we still need answers. If this is dysautonomia—or something ectoplasm-adjacent—we need to understand the scope. The triggers. Your human side is clearly taking the brunt of it, and that’s where we have to start.”

Danny leaned back, letting his head thud softly against the wall. The ceiling blurred above him. “And if we never figure it out?” he asked, voice low. “What if this is it? What if I’m stuck like this—tired and dizzy and broken—forever?”

Jazz was silent for a long beat. She knew better than to give him a hollow reassurance.

When she spoke, her voice was calm, but it carried the full weight of her older sister resolve. “Then we figure out how to live with it. We adapt. We fight back. We manage it however we can. But there’s something else I think we need to talk about.”

Danny turned his head slowly toward her, wary. “What?”

She hesitated, the words caught between her careful caution and her fierce concern. “I think… we need to consider telling Mom and Dad.”

The suggestion hit like a thunderclap.

Danny sat up fast, every part of him buzzing with alarm. “What? No. Jazz—no. We can’t.”

“I know it sounds like a lot,” she said quickly, lifting both hands in a calming gesture. “But just hear me out. Mom and Dad have studied ectoplasm longer than anyone. They may not have medical degrees, but they’ve mapped more ghost biology than half the ghost zone. If anyone might understand what’s happening to you, it’s them.”

“No.” Danny’s voice was sharp. “They’ll freak out. They already went through hell trying to accept that I’m Phantom. This? This would undo all of that.”

Jazz didn’t argue immediately. Her silence was steady, intentional.

Danny pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can’t. I can’t make them deal with that. They’d treat me like a walking science project again. Or worse—they’d panic and try to fix me. Or fix Phantom.”

“They’re not going to dissect you, Danny,” Jazz said gently.

“You don’t know that.”

Jazz’s expression softened. “I get it. I do. But you’re running out of options. If we don’t find a way to help you stabilize, this could keep getting worse. You fainted in public. What if it happens mid-fight? What if you drop in front of someone who doesn’t know who you are?”

Danny’s stomach twisted. It already nearly had. Twice. His powers barely flickered on some days, while other times he felt like his ghost form was trying to override his human one—his pulse spiking, his vision fragmenting into static. That split second before he phased in or out had started to feel like falling off a cliff.

Jazz placed a hand on his arm—firm but kind. “They’re your parents. They love you. And I know they’re… intense. But they’re also brilliant. They might not have a perfect answer, but they’d try. Isn’t that worth something?”

Danny looked away, blinking fast. “I’m not ready,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

Jazz let her hand fall. “Okay. I won’t push. But I want you to think about it. Not just for your sake—but for theirs too.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It just was. Heavy, inevitable.

Jazz flipped through her notes again, scanning diagrams and symptom charts, but her voice was gentler now, softer. “In the meantime, we manage. There are ways to treat dysautonomia—or at least stabilize some of the symptoms. Hydration, sodium intake, compression sleeves, even pacing your energy through the day.”

Danny gave a bitter half-smile. “Great. I’ll just carry salt packets and hope I don’t pass out in algebra.”

Jazz chuckled quietly, her laugh subdued but genuine. “Better than nothing.”

Danny nodded. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a cure. But it was a lifeline. And right now, that was more than he’d had in weeks.

Jazz reached over and squeezed his hand. “We’re not giving up. Not now. Not ever.”

Danny didn’t speak right away, but when he did, his voice was steadier than before.

“I know. Thanks, Jazz.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Sundowning