Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When ghosts first came to Amity Park, they were seen as akin to animals. Sure, some of them looked human, but they didn’t go out of their way to make conversation. In fact, according to the Fentons, ghosts were less than animals, because animals have the ability to form long lasting relationships with those of other species and show signs of empathy.

Sam didn’t know if she would go that far in her personal beliefs about the spirits, but there was very little compelling evidence. She saw this as another project on her tirade of environmentalism, dragging Tucker along her quests whenever possible.

Except he absolutely refused to show up tonight. “Dude, my parents would kill me if I went out this late,” Tucker hissed over the phone, probably curled up in his bed like a little traitor. “And even if they wouldn’t, I’m not doing it.”

“They’re still freaking out over the missing kid?”

“I’m pretty sure normal people keep worrying about that until he’s found. And it wasn’t just any kid.”

Sam shrugged, her phone cradled to her ear as she put the car in park. “C’mon, he moves here, ghosts show up, and then he disappears? He one hundred percent ran because he was scared. He’s got to be alive in the next town down the train tracks, if his folks would actually look there.”

“Or the ghosts killed him.”

“No body, no phantom, not dead.” She pulled her jacket close, thick boots crunching in a thin layer of snow. The flashlight on her phone shimmered over greying bark, ash and beech trees tangling together with well-worn trails in between. “Cool, got to the park. If I die I die.”

“Don’t joke about that!”

“I’ll be fine.” Sam planned this out, obviously, packing a bag and researching what she could. It’s hard to find a ghost that isn’t just wantonly attacking people, so she couldn’t prove until now that ghosts have a desire outside of feeding on fear. However, if she goes for one who isn’t hurting anybody, maybe she can talk to them and get a reply back. “Whoever’s scaring lovebirds hasn’t attacked anyone. This is literally the safest way to do this.”

“No, the safest way to do it is to stay. Home.”

“Not happening.” Sam checked her reception, frowning at just how crackly Tucker sounded. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“Don’t-”

She hung up, sliding her gloves on before continuing forward. Amity Park Park has always been relatively safe, melodramatic fountains and picnic tables ensconced by dark trees. The forest-y parts were beautiful in the daytime, although she hesitated to see them at night.

She paused at the edge of the treeline, looking up to the naked boughs dusted in snow. Amity Park once was lucky to get a melted layer of ice that would disappear by noon on some magical January day. Now with specters trailing through the sky, she hasn’t seen grass all September. She slung her bag off her shoulders, pulling out an old quilt to lay on the ground. It’s one of those shitty ones that her mother bought to replace an heirloom she destroyed via negligence, so Sam doesn’t care if the snow soaks it through. Sam sat down in the center, cross-legged, and waited.

When she was a kid, this park was full of noises, crickets in a choir and frogs bellowing at all times of day. A squirrel could search around the roots for nuts, swans trumpeted in the pond, some stray cat that no one bothered taking home would walk up demanding food…

It’s silent now. All the animals in town realized a new apex predator arrived, one they were wholly unprepared for. One that the Fentons brought in. She frowned, rubbing her hands together and blowing hot breath into her palms. She shouldn’t think like that. It’s not like they knew this would happen.

Maybe their son did, and that’s why he ran away. What was his name again?

The wind made the trees whistle, blowing through her coat like it’s tissue paper. She gripped her arms in a self hug, shivering. She thought thick socks and a long coat would be enough, but now she wishes she at least put a sweater on under it. A hat was fine, but where are earmuffs when you need them? And with the air chapping her lips, what she wouldn’t do for a scarf…

No. She’s not backing out. Sam snuck out her window for this, hands shaking around the freezing glass, and she won’t come back without something to show for it. She’s waiting.

Not moving leeched warmth from her body too fast. Sam clacked her teeth together as she dug out her phone, the screen not responding to her taps. She tugged off her glove with one finger, pressing into the cold glass again. It’s not responding, losing battery in the freeze. When she looked at her hand, she could see skin so pale it tinged blue around the veins.

Maybe she shouldn’t give up, per se, but regroup. She’d never admit it to Tucker, but this wasn’t her most thought out plan. Sam will tiptoe through the backdoor of her house, grab some hot chocolate and extra woolen clothes, then return for her meetup.

Sam should get up now. She had the thought pass through her head, ordering her legs to shift out of their numbness and into action. Nothing happened. Her eyelids felt heavy, dragging with a weight on her shoulders making her slump forward.

Every blink got slower, joined by the idea that this time, she’ll stand up and walk away. This time. This time. This time.

And with only the whisper of the wind as a warning, the drowsiness broke. She felt a shiver up her spine like a skeleton marched its fingers up her skin, arching her back. Her cracked lips parted, staring uncomprehendingly at what floated above her.

Two green eyes, blank as the moon, stared down from a dark face. Its nose elongated like a cat’s, a short muzzle stained white and dissolving like powder into the fuzzy exterior of the specter. Pale hair shifted like a trick of the light, trapped in icy spikes that led down to a thick ring of hoarfrost wool around its neck and protecting the breastbone. Long arms dragged near the snow on the ground, tipped in talons. Bleached fur coated the hands until they looked like fluffy paws, climbing up its pelt like frostbite until it tapered off in shards around the elbow. The black looked like when thin ice had a light shining through it, an emerald glow poking through barely as a long tail curled lazily in the air. The entire creature was large enough to cover her vision, hovering a foot away in silence.

Waiting.

Sam’s mouth dried, not sure what to do and too exhausted to try anyway. She never thought she’d see a ghost that looked so alive, fur shifting in the wind as the green crackling through its visage thrummed like a heartbeat. She blinked, thinking that when she opened her eyes again, it’d be gone without a trace.

It’s still there, although now it has its head tipped in confusion. One arm raised, achingly slow, expecting her to run. It angled its paw to press the palm into her cheek, soft pads trailed by fur and it should be cold. Being around this ghost feels like she’s pressing a freezer burned popsicle to her skin. Instead, those cushions covering talons radiated heat, commanding her blood to rush back to her face. It’s like she’s touching a living person.

She watched the face, dual spotlights pressed into a strange skull, turn this way and that to study their surroundings. After a moment, those hands picked her up, shifting her to the side and off the quilt. The ghost picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, patting until she got the message to grip the corners like a cape on her back. It picked up her backpack next, dangling it from one talon for her to take.

She adjusted her grip so she could hold it, pressing the bag to her chest. “Th-thank you.”

The white of its face split, a mouth silhouetted in green light to broadcast fangs like a Jack-O-Lantern. If it was an animal, this would be a snarl, a warning to stay away. This looked more like a smile.

The end of their tail, dipped in the same snowy shade, flicked in the direction of the entrance to the park, the ghost looking that way with wide eyes. She got the message, starting her trudge forward. They stayed hovering at her side, tail twisting like it propelled them through the still air. Now that she had the push to move, she could feel her blood stirring again, although her walk was still sluggish. Hopefully, the ghost doesn’t mind.

She’s walking next to a ghost. Sam tripped at that realization, the phantom quickly catching her and setting her back on her feet again. Having two heated hands on her arms and then withdrawing just as quickly brought an undignified whine to the back of her throat, leaning in again. Their mouth shimmered in another glow as they grinned again, reflecting off the snowdrift and letting her brush against their fur. She shivered at the frosty disposition of the fluff, oily and fine against her skin. They reached up to just have their pads on her head, pulling off her hat to let the temperature leak into her hair. The fingers curled over her forehead, sharpened points carefully directed away from her eyes.

She stopped at the wired gate, the title stretching over her head with a verdant tint from her companion’s luminescence. Sam waited for the hand to retreat, but it hesitated, fingers flexing methodically. She reached up to pull it off, a coarse wrist easily filling both of her hands. When she looked at them, they were frowning, the light a tiny line cracking through dusty freckles. Her beanie hung limply in their grip.

“Um.” She came here to see if any ghosts would talk to her, or talk at all, but now that she had her chance…they just looked sad. This isn’t the proof she wanted, regardless of the possible hypothermia. “S-sorry for almost dying in-in your park. I was t-t-trying to-to talk to you. To see if y-you’re real.”

They tipped their head again, opening their mouth before shutting it again with thought. They held up the beanie as an offering, drifting down to be eye to eye. She took it, feeling like it was fresh out of the dryer. That was supposed to be the invitation to say something, but they just kept watching her with craggy lips turned downward.

“I-if you want.” She swallowed. “I can-can c-c-come back.”

They beamed, floating higher with jaws agape. Sam smiled back, affirming with a nod. The phantom curled, twisting in tight loops around her with a silent laugh dancing across their posture. She couldn’t turn fast enough to keep up, waiting for them to stop and float above in a drift. They seemed too excited to keep it contained, turning in wide shapes as they ascended and slithered back towards the park. The shadowy shape dipped in ivory soon blended into the deep night, stars crossed by the serpentine tail that flicked to cover the thin sliver of the moon.

Sam watched until she was sure she’d start freezing again if she stood outside any longer, hurrying to her car and blasting the heat when she touched the cold seat. She stayed in one spot until her lips stopped feeling blue, looking up at the rearview mirror to see her ruddy cheeks.

She needs to call Tucker.

Chapter Text

“Sam.”

“I mean it, you’ll be thanking me later.” She knotted the scarf tight around Tucker’s neck, listening to him gag dramatically like she cut off all air supply. “Come on, stop being a baby.”

“I’m sorry, is it babyish of me to not want to visit a ghost?” He dropped his voice, like anyone could hear them standing at the park entrance in the middle of the night. She made plans to visit the phantom with Tucker in tow almost immediately, but he refused, loud enough for onlookers to think she was asking him to swallow a bug. They compromised on going in the weekend so he won’t miss school in his quest for beauty sleep. “I still think you just froze your skull and hallucinated it.”

“They’re real, Tuck, and they’re pretty sweet.”

“Ghosts don’t help humans, Sam.”

“You’ll see.” She made sure her pants were tucked into her boots, better prepared this time around with thick wool and something to keep her nose warm. Tucker rolled his eyes at the hat she forced on him, along with gloves that were leagues better than the ones he brought. “I don’t know if they’ll pop up immediately, so we may be waiting a bit.”

“Oh, joy,” Tucker muttered, glasses fogged by his breath. “Now we can get hypothermia together.”

“That’s the spirit.” She chuckled, brandishing a flashlight as they bundled down the paved walkway. She set up camp that night at the same spot that sneaky teen couples claimed to see the ghost, so their best bet was to go to the edge of the treeline again. She spread out a blanket, sitting on one side and patting the ground for Tucker. He huffed, plopping down and pulling his knees to his chest.

Then they waited. Tucker tried to use his phone, grimacing when it didn’t respond to his inputs and shoving it back in his pockets. Sam studied the stars, noticing how they scattered like the glitter of white on the ground. Amity Park used to be so overrun with air pollution that it would just be a thick darkness blanketing the town, but ghosts turned their up-and-coming metropolis into a place where gentrification goes to die. Now, she could piece out the constellations like they sat in the wilderness. She could see why her ancestors thought the dead lived up there, so bright and blurring together in their magnitude.

Tucker’s hand suddenly grabbed hers, squeezing with a sharp intake of breath. She looked to him, only for him to nod toward the trees at their backs. Sam angled her head to glance behind them.

Two round eyes, acid green and glowing, watched them. Sam held up her arm and waved them over. They paused, hesitating, before slinking out of the shadows with their belly low to the ground. They were much smaller now, although they still stretched about the length of a car, with their mouth illuminating the snow just like their chest and eyes. Their hair didn’t have the same shine it once did, moving with the wind before trailing into the fleece along their sternum. Their fur disrupted its black outline with white streaks of longer hair, feathering outward like long-furred puppies she cared for when she volunteered at the animal shelter. It was most obvious on their face, where it grew from a patch on the muzzle to long shards digging under the eye sockets.

“New coat?” Sam asked, ignoring Tucker’s hurried elbow to her side.

The phantom blinked, staying by her side of the blanket with their stomach to the snow. With a slow flick of their tail, they nodded. Their posture remained much like a stray cat that didn’t know if they’re safe yet. She can work with that.

Sam pulled her backpack off her shoulders, unzipping it to jam a hand inside. “I like it.”

Tucker leaned into her space with a whisper. “Ghosts can’t change, Sam. This has to be a different one.”

She stopped to look doubtfully at the specter. “Are you the same person I met a few nights ago?”

They looked from her to Tucker. She could see the whites of their eyes, although she was certain they weren’t there before. They nodded again.

Sam shrugged. “I guess ghosts can change.” With that, she pulled out her thermos.

The phantom grimaced, their bleached fluff stiffening in raised spikes above the darkened fuzz. Tucker cast his arm over her chest, like he could do anything substantial if they chose to pounce.

Sam tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

They lashed their tail, eyes narrowed into slits with full focus on the thermos. She moved it to the side to make sure it’s just the metal cylinder they wanted, their head moving with it. She held it out for them to check, the ghost leaning back with hesitation. After a moment, they ran their claws down the side of it, checking for something. When they didn’t find it, their fur smoothed out and their face relaxed.

“What…” Tucker drifted off, clamping his mouth shut as she opened the thermos and let the spirit sniff the inside. They declined, instead hovering to watch her pour hot chocolate into three small travel mugs.

Sam picked up her share, steam warming her face as she turned a triumphant look to Tucker. “See? They’re fine.”

The phantom slid to the open half of the blanket, needing more room to align themself in coils with their arms reaching for the mug. They held it by their chin just as she did, talons leaving tiny scratches in the material. Tucker swallowed at the sight, quickly downing some of his cocoa.

The spirit tilted their head, mouth opening slowly, before tipping the lip of the mug into their maw and letting the liquid in. Their eyes bugged, dropping the cup with a hacking cough. They grabbed their neck and turned their face away, rattling with a gasp. She set her cup down, her gloves getting wet in the spilled chocolate as she reached to help them.

“Sorry! Sorry, I don’t know if you can drink-”

“Sam.” Tucker took her wrist, although it didn’t have the same protective force as before. “Look.”

“Huh?”

“It’s coughing.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“No, you don’t.” Tucker tugged on her sleeve, connecting dots she didn’t see. “Coughing can’t happen unless you can breathe.”

Sam understood, looking closer at the ghost. Their chest rose and fell like it occupied lungs, their core sending green waves of light echoing across their body as they tried to clear their throat of the liquid. “Does coughing need vocal cords?”

Tucker held up his hands in a hopeless shrug.

Sam laid her hand on their back, the specter stiffening under her hold. It was strange to feel no bone, realizing that the only reason why her palm doesn’t sink through like jelly is simply because they didn’t want her to. The ghost looked up, swallowing, so they must have something in the hollow of their throat.

“Hey. I’m Sam, this is Tucker.” She pressed a thumb to her chest, then pointed to her friend. “Sorry we didn’t properly introduce ourselves. Do you have a name you want us to call you?”

The phantom looked behind them, like they thought they were talking to someone else. When they turned back to her still waiting for an answer, they opened their mouth in a rasp. They managed a sound like ice swelling under the pressure of water, crackling and groaning in chunks, before closing their jaws again. It didn’t shut in a smooth line like it used to, disappearing into their snout, and instead had the teeth pushing outward and meshing horribly in long icicles. They tried again, a deep rumbling rising from their chest, before hanging their head in defeat.

“I don’t think you can talk without a tongue,” Tucker surmised after a moment, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against his mug. “I mean, we could give you a name-”

“That’s a great idea!” Sam interrupted, pulling a notebook from her backpack. “We can write down some ideas, and you can point to one-”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Tucker shook his head with a clenched jaw. “We could give them a name but it’d be like naming a pet. They’re not a pet, Sam.”

“I’m not treating them like a pet.”

“But you still don’t think this is weird?” He shifted the way he sat so he could cross his legs, setting his mug between his feet so it won’t budge as he spoke with his hands. “They can’t speak, they don’t know basic human stuff like what a thermos is, and they got here by crawling on the ground like a weasel. Now you’re going to give them a name they don’t get a real say in? What, are you getting them a collar too? Are we going to record them looking in a mirror and thinking it’s another ghost?”

“Come on, Tuck-”

“It’s an important question. Ghosts used to be people, but we don’t know how much of that is left.” Tucker crossed his arms as the specter picked up the cup again, staring at the bottom of it with their luminescence highlighting the fine lines where they gored into the plastic. “They can copy what we do like zoo animals that get random stuff tossed in their enclosure for enrichment, but it doesn’t change how they don’t know anything. I don’t think they remember being human at all.”

The phantom held out their cup to her, Sam hesitating before taking it. They unfurled their tail as they slid back into the snowbank, the end of their body evaporating when it almost slapped Tucker in the chest. They dug their paws into the snow, long fingers topped in ebony talons.

Sam shrank in her coat, face turning pink. She did become a bit hopeful in her bid to prove ghosts are just as sapient as humans. She knows that ghosts have only been around for a month, but they may have been dead for far longer than that, hanging around without being seen. How long can you not have anyone reach out to you and still remember who you used to be?

Sam looked at Tucker, hands rolling around the hot cocoa with frost melting around her gloves. “I’m sorry, we should-”

Pop!

Tucker’s face morphed, eyes squeezing shut as snow squished into his hat and slid down his scarf. Sam stared, open-mouthed, before turning to where it must’ve come from. The ghost had a goofy grin and both arms deep in the snow, eyes flicking between them. Tucker made a sputtering sound, wiping his sleeve on his cheek.

“Did you teach them to do that?”

“No,” Sam breathed, watching the phantom start dutifully packing snow again. She knew she should move out of the way, but stayed entranced by the white powder shifting in soft paws. Dextrous fingers forced it into a rough shape, wiping out hard edges with a thumb so it looked as much like a sphere as possible, and pop!

Her tongue was freezing, forgetting to close her mouth before she could feel the sting on her nose. The slush dripped onto her neck and windpipe, melting against warm skin. The ghost lashed their tail, hunching their shoulders in a silent challenge.

A spirit is asking her for a snowball fight.

She stood up, brushing off her coat and finishing her cocoa in a gulp. When she stepped forward, the ghost flinched a bit, but it wasn’t like a scared animal. It was more playful, studying her next move. Sam moved off the quilt, ignoring Tucker’s protests, and shot a smile at the phantom. “What else do you do on snow days?”

The phantom turned in a tight circle, then flopped into the snow, laying on their back with their tail deep in the drift. They waved their tail, arms digging through the white to carve a path. They floated back up and spread their hands in an exaggerated “ta-da!”, gesturing to the snow angel.

Sam laughed, clapping as the ghost glowed at her praise. Tucker stumbled forward in disbelief. “See, Tuck?”

“They could just be copying other humans they saw.”

“Or they remember some things.” Sam craned her neck as the spirit hovered above them, twisting in the dark sky with their head fervently nodding. Understanding. “So you can understand English. Can you write?”

They flexed their fingers, wiping long talons on fluffy paws. After checking their pawpads, they held them up with a cracked frown.

“Yeah, it would be hard to hold a pencil when you look like that. Um…” She tapped her chin. “I guess we could try yes or no questions. Like…do you remember your name?”

They shook their head.

“Are you okay with us giving you a name?”

They nodded.

“Okay.” She looked at Tucker. “Any ideas?”

He shook out a cloth from his pocket, trying to get the condensation off of his glasses. “I really don’t think we should do that. If you’re so sure that they’ll remember stuff eventually, giving them another name could mess that up.”

“Then a name that isn’t a name.”

“Like Phantom?”

The ghost grinned, splitting their face with emerald light glinting off the stark color of their snout.

Sam offered her hand with a matching smile. “Nice to meet you, Phantom.”

Their core flickered with light, then they grasped her fingers, pawpads like fresh coals that won’t burn through her gloves. They twisted their mouth to form the same words, unable to force more from their throat than the hisses and groans. She nodded encouragingly, stepping back for Tucker to do the same.

Her friend pushed his glasses up on his nose, studying the paws before holding out his hand, too. “We’ll try to help you remember, okay?”

Phantom nodded, gleefully enveloping his hand with warmth as they shook it in a double-fisted grip. Tucker yelped, grabbing his shoulder like he thought it would pop from its socket. When Phantom released him, the ghost turned to zip back into the trees in their backdrop, sounds rattling from their fangs like a giggling spring.

Sam turned on her heel to Tucker. “So?”

He stared at his palm, opening and closing his hand a few times. “Phantom’s…warm.”

“Only their hands. All the fuzz is like a popsicle.”

“What kind of dead person is warm?”

She didn’t have an answer to that.

Chapter Text

“Where’s Phantom?”

Sam shrugged, checking her watch since her phone hates turning on in this chill. They’ve developed a routine, showing up on weekend nights, sometimes eating dinner before and sometimes bringing their food with them, then hanging around Phantom until midnight and crawling back to whichever house they told their parents they were going to. Sam’s parents don’t stay up long enough to see them come back and Tucker’s trust her with him since she managed to advocate for a driver’s license at fifteen, so it doesn’t matter when they go to sleep. Phantom’s paws keep them warm so they don’t freeze to death, and they’ve seemed to warm up, both literally and figuratively, with every visit.

But it’s been twenty minutes, and Phantom usually comes rushing in less than five, making a game of hiding in the darkness to scare them. Yesterday, they came to the edge of the treeline to Phantom already waiting, not bothering to hide how they looped themself around the tree branches. Tucker did lecture them for that, insisting that they need to hide from ghost hunters. Phantom’s face changed to a concerned expression, nodding immediately. Even the dead have a survival instinct, it seems.

“Do you think the Fentons…” Tucker trailed off, still fidgeting with his greasy box from Nasty Burger.

“I did find out about Phantom through the rumor mill.” Sam swallowed, looking to the darkness laying beyond the trees. “Maybe it finally reached them, and they went after Phantom?”

“Wouldn’t we hear laser guns in that case? Or, like, have it covered on the news?”

“My dad goes hunting with his coworkers. He told me that good predators-” -she gritted her teeth, calming herself with an exhale before trying the sentence again- “-people who kill for sport, will sometimes lay traps and pick them off in the morning.”

“Like the traps with big teeth in the movies? Phantom doesn’t walk.”

“No, but they’ve been flying close to the ground. If those creeps noticed that, then they could set up a net, or a tripwire, or some crazy crap with glue-” She stood, taking a flashlight and pocket knife from her bag. “Come on, we’re finding them.”

“Ugh.” Tucker groaned, popping his back as he rose to follow her. “What spirit bit the Fentons on the ass hard enough for them to be like this?”

“Probably the one that scared their kid off.”

“Dude, you’re still saying that? He has to be dead at this point. Probably got picked up by a ghost the night the portal opened and dropped a mile in the air.”

“Or he took the rails as far as he could to escape his crazy parents.” Sam stepped over a tree root to bury her leg in slush, scowling at how it clung to her furry boots. “Wish I could do that.”

“We agreed on no train hopping until college.”

“Have you gotten better at the harmonica?”

“No, but I could beat on those weird boxes they sit on while you play guitar.”

“I’ll ask Phantom if they can rock a fiddle for us. Become our own hobo band.”

Tucker grabbed the edge of her coat to redirect her away from a branch aiming for her head, walking with his hand brushing a tree trunk. “Do we know if they can even leave the park?”

“Nope. Which is why we need to make sure it’s safe.” Sam frowned as the bulb on the flashlight flickered, tapping it to make sure it’s just a temporary mess up. Her mom will flip if she asks for more batteries after burning through so many the past few weeks. “It’s unfair how little daylight we get anymore.”

“Well, we’re up to our knees in snow just in time for November.” Tucker demonstrated with a step off the roots, wet leaves audibly folding under his weight as his legs swim through the slush. “Maybe we got our seasons reversed and we’ll have a green Christmas.”

“Doubt it.” Sam leaned back to shine her light in the branches, making sure Phantom isn’t just asleep up there. “Any progress on Phantom’s communication device?”

“No. A lot of nonverbal tech tracks eye movements or needs typing, neither of which works for them. I think our best bet are these flipbooks with pictures of basic words in it, but I don’t know if they’d just phase through it.”

“Right.” They’ve been able to find some things to do with Phantom, like making snowmen and climbing trees. They seem to have great control over that, like they had an innate connection to nature. Manmade objects, however, became finicky, or maybe just things they bring into the park that don’t belong. Phantom can only play cards and accidentally show their hand by dropping it so many times before they don’t want to play cards anymore. Trying to talk with that happening could only aid in the frustration, not alleviate it. “We can run the idea by them and see what they think.”

“Totally.” Tucker held up his hand for attention and pointed to a blinking light buried in the edge of the snow.

Sam stomped over to it, grimacing at the contraption that she unburied. It looked like a bear trap, the teeth dripping with blue metal with a lit up switch stuck to the end. “There’s no way this is legal.”

“That’s probably why they had it way off the path where no one’s supposed to walk.” Tucker had his hands on his knees, leaning over the trap with a wrinkled nose. “If a dumb kid gets their foot in that, the Fentons go to court.”

She flicked off the switch, keeping her fingers clear as the jaws snapped shut and stayed that way. “Well, me picking it up didn’t make them jump out of the bushes. I think we’re alone enough to yell about ghosts.”

Tucker nodded, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Phantom?”

Sam raised her head at the reply, the dead air split by crunching branches and the howl of a creature in pain. She bolted towards the sound, only having to trip a hundred more feet before she could see a tree moving in a haphazard swing. The wind picked up, rattling her nerves as she pointed the flashlight into the small clearing in the woods.

In the center of a glade about the size of a dining room table was a stack of stones, carefully placed by people with recently stirred up snow giving way to gouges in rich dirt. She had to bar Tucker from moving further when she saw a neon blue filament at thigh level, around where Phantom usually glides. She didn’t want to get caught in that, not when she could see the specter struggling in the same trap a few feet above the rocks.

Phantom had the wire tangled around their neck, one arm crooked at the elbow and squashed to their jawline while the other clawed desperately at the mesh. Green liquid dripped from their throat, the usual fuzzy ripple to their body lost in a matted mess. The bleached pelt around their neck was stained emerald, bits of fluff flying out as they tangled themself in a knot to escape. She could see what made the tree groan in agony with a second snare squeezing their tail before it could snake off, too low on the body for Phantom to grab.

When her light hit their face, showing the cracked paleness that encompassed their head, the eyes rolled in their skull with their jaws opening in a crackle. With a wail, their torso rippled, core pulsing as the darkness ballooned. It sounded like the snapping of bone, gristle and fluff splitting off the fat tail and churning in the air in their own limbs. Legs with long talons and thick pads on their feet hooked onto the snare, trying to kick it off and only catching awkwardly in the glow. Phantom screamed loud enough for Sam to cover her ears. They sounded less like a banshee and more like a terrified kid.

“Phantom!” Tucker shouted, grabbing the flashlight from her and shining it into his own face. “Dude, it’s us! Chill!”

“Yeah, we’re here to help!” Sam pressed just her toes past the wire on the ground, making sure she isn’t caught, too. “Just don’t hurt yourself making new limbs and-”

“Sam Sam Sam-”

She felt the wind pass over her head before the claws could dig into her hair, one of Phantom’s feet curling instinctively as they stopped struggling and stared down at her. They flopped their head to the side slightly to look at Tucker, then down to her, blinking with dim eyes. The usual brightness that cut their outline from the night was gone. Sam raised her arm to make sure they don’t try to kick her again, resting her glove on their heel. “It’s just me and Tucker. No Fentons.”

Phantom burbled at the name, a mournful sound that hacked up a glob of ectoplasm to land on Sam’s cheek. She winced, wiping it off before the icy substance could burn through her skin. When she took another step closer to the stones in the center, they snarled instinctively.

“Sam, I think they don’t like us touching the cairn.”

“The what?”

“Stack of rocks right there. Like the ones in the forest level of Doomed?” Tucker slid the light over the neat column, still standing miraculously through Phantom’s struggle. “In the game, when you knock it over a bunch of ghosts fly out like you kicked a wasp’s nest. I bet that’s Phantom’s.”

Sam clenched her jaw, glaring at the pile. No wonder there’s so many traps around it. The Fentons just trampled over sacred ground and had Phantom running. Hell, they probably did that hours ago, and Phantom’s just been dangling like this waiting for someone to find them. She looked up to the spirit, trying to keep the rage from her voice. “Phantom, I’m going to have to get close to this, uh, thing. But if anything happens to it, I promise we’ll stay as long as we need to fix it. Okay?”

Phantom hissed, but they stopped struggling. Sam sighed with relief and waved Tucker over. She can start cutting through the wire close to them, on Phantom’s hips, while Tucker figured out how to lower their head up top. He didn’t need to be told that was the plan, already sticking the flashlight in his mouth and reaching for a branch.

She grabbed the filament, testing just how tight it was around the body and wincing at the electric buzz felt through her gloves. It’s uncomfortable to hold for a few moments, raising the hair on the back of her neck, so having it directly on her skin for hours must be torture. She flipped open the pocket knife, trying to find something to calm Phantom with.

“I like the legs. Uh, didn’t know you could do that. We don’t know a lot about ghosts since our sources on ectobiology are…um…unreliable. So, you know, I didn’t think you could shift that much. Well, you changed a little, sometimes, but-” -she stopped speaking when the first thread in the wire braid snapped, guarding her hand from being sliced by sharp string before she could continue- “-it was little things. You kept getting more white, the fur grew longer, I think your hair stopped floating. I thought it was like how animals get different coats in the winter, you know? It’s not really supposed to be this cold, so you adapted to it.”

“Sam, I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to get this off the tree.” Tucker sat high enough up to break his leg if he falls, one hand fisted in his hat while he stared at a tangled knot of wires. Sam shot him a glare while Phantom whimpered. They’re not saving a wild animal here. This is a person who could hear them freaking out. Tucker winced, mouthing “sorry” before starting to snap ends off of the branch to make it weaker.

“Anyway, it’s cool you could do that. It’s like your body knew you needed to reach the snare and boom! You could do it. Sick.” Her fingers were shaky and numb. She mainly kept a grip on the knife because her fist couldn’t unlock around the handle. Sam was about halfway done. “It opens up a lot of stuff for us to do together now, you know? Like…we could try to bring a ball and play soccer. Tucker’s so bad at it that it won’t matter if you phase through it sometimes. Or we can get you some skates and we’ll check out the frozen pond on the other side of the park. I think a tail would let you stay up pretty well.”

Phantom relaxed in her hold, closing their eyes. When they first met, being near them felt like icy spikes tearing off her skin. Now, it’s a stiff wind on a cold day, chapping her face but not to the point of pain. They’re warming up.

Sam leaned closer with a giddy grin. “Hey, if you can make legs, maybe you could get a tongue after a while and we can talk more, or a stomach and I’ll bring you some food you can actually eat.” The edge of the thread snapped, their lower half dropping abruptly to the ground. She squawked, setting their thighs on her shoulders like they’re playing chicken in the snow. She can’t just leave them to dangle by their throat when they can obviously breathe. “Tuck? Any progress?”

“Yeah, move!” The tree creaked, dropping the drooping branch thankfully without Tucker crashing down with it. Tucker stayed clinging to the trunk as Sam dutifully sawed through the snare.

Phantom laid on the cairn, frozen in the fetal position with ectoplasm staining the pale stones. Sam kept her feet off the rocks the best she could, concentrating on her work until the rope burst in her hands. The moment the blue light died from her grip, Phantom shot up into the air and disappeared.

She held the sharp ends of the trap, watching acidic drops scatter in the snow to a thin trail that led deeper in the woods. When she looked back to the filament, it was coated end to end in the same material, dripping from her knife as well.

“Sam? My hands are too numb to climb down.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Chapter Text

“What are you two doing here?”

Sam grimaced at the shrill voice, stopping in the middle of her search. There was no way they were leaving Phantom in their current state, even though they can’t actually find them. However, that did not mean she wanted to be caught in the middle of sawing through another trap with its creator at her back. Or, rather, the creators’ daughter.

Tucker’s teeth rattled as he tried to defend himself. “W-we were going to take a break from studying by going on-on a walk, then we s-s-saw these tr-traps, and thou-thought they’d get an animal-”

“We didn’t know they were for ghosts, Jazz,” Sam lied, smiling at the junior who’s been pestering everyone in their grade for months about her brother. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“I-that’s none of your business.” Jazz crossed her arms and avoided eye contact, looking up to the branches swaying in the icy wind. Sam hoped no glowing phantoms dripping ectoplasm were hanging in those deadened plants where the Fenton could spot them. “But it’s too cold for you to just be walking around, and we have midterms tomorrow.” She frowned, checking her watch. “Today.”

“Freshman and sophomores get Monday off to study, juniors and seniors get Friday, remember?”

“Then you should be studying, not sneaking.” She stamped her foot, trying to sound adult but instead coming across like a pissed off horse. “Just get in my car and let me drive you home. I’ll pick you both up tomorrow and drop you off here after school to get your ride.”

Sam looked to Tucker, whose face was ready to turn a bruised purple from the chill. He’s always been more sensitive to the weather, the first in class to catch a cold. It’s one of many reasons why he stays inside whenever possible. She swallowed her pride, choosing him over her need to get Phantom to communicate. “Alright, Jazz.”

They walked to the lot outside the park with heavy shoes. She appreciated that the van looked like a hybrid, fully expecting a Fenton to proudly own a gas guzzler. Sam and Tucker climbed into the back while Jazz cranked the heat. When Sam sat down, her foot nudged something in the floorspace. She leaned down to pick it up. A tote bag with wire cutters, paper towels, a regular towel, and a first aid kit in it.

“Why were you here, though? Really?” Sam fixed her gaze on Jazz, Tucker turned around in his seat to scowl out the rear window. Jazz looked ready to spout a bullshit excuse, so Sam produced the wire cutters with a raised eyebrow. Jazz’s face dropped.

“Promise you won’t snitch?” She asked in a mousey voice.

“You were going to disarm the traps, too, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. My parents explained their plan to me and I…” Jazz sighed, flexing her fingers at the wheel. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, you know? How even if that’s not quite a person anymore, they certainly used to be. And they don’t deserve to be strung up like that. So if they’re going to check the traps at dawn, I’ll have them cleaned out at midnight.”

“But if they weren’t going to kill the ghost, what were they trying to do?”

“They told me they found a burial mound, like a gravesite. It confirms the existence of haunts, territories, something like that. They wanted to see if removing a ghost from their haunt would hurt them. If it didn’t, then maybe they would become less stable. Lose their form or their power.”

“Disturbing a resting place and not following ghost rules could also tick it off,” Sam pointed out. Tucker grabbed her sleeve meaningfully, jerking his head toward the window out the back of the van. She looked out while Jazz kept talking.

“That too. I didn’t want my parents getting hurt because they’re messing with something way bigger than them.” Sam saw someone standing just inside of the park entrance, two eyes trained on their car. Most of their silhouette came from the ectoplasm staining their neck, arm, and hips, animalistic legs contoured in green as one clawed hand clutched the fence. “Getting hurt like my brother did.”

“Your brother?” Tucker’s voice came out cottony and small. The moment Phantom stepped out of the park, the light from their throat winked out, and Sam couldn’t spot them in the darkness anymore.

“I know I have a reputation for being the smart one in the family, but that credit went to him. He had everything click for him as soon as he tried it, and with our parents, that was every science you could get your hands on. He made it look so effortless, like learning isn’t a challenge to him.” Jazz laughed lowly. Sam could feel the telltale sharpness in the air before Phantom’s presence floated in like ice nipping at her neck. “Danny could do no wrong.”

Sam saw the rips in the upholstery from the talons before they showed themself, fingers flickering in their form. Their mouth glowed as it opened with strings of acidic slobber snapping under its own weight. Phantom’s once-empty mouth now stretched into a cavernous throat, a wiry tongue leaving their lips as they hissed. The wounds where ectoplasm stained their fur stretched under the strain of their stance, spreading cracks across dark fuzz like an eggshell. Sam instinctively leaned away from the specter, eyes widening at the frost quickly growing on the windows in elaborate patterns like leaves. Jazz turned pale, her breath misting as soon as it left her nose.

“Phantom, no!” Tucker stupidly grabbed their bone white muzzle, shutting it before they could freak Jazz out more. “She’s cool, dude! She came to help!”

“Yeah, stop trying to give us frostbite!” Sam’s blood felt like a slushie in her veins as she scrambled to press her hand to their paw, talons sliding in and out of existence. She studied them with a grimace. “I think the haunting theory’s right.”

“But the ghosts we see flying around Amity aren’t affected,” Tucker argued.

“Maybe new ones need time? Like, safety close to their grave to figure things out?” Sam looked to Jazz for an answer. She had tears pricking near the edges of her face, quickly wiping shuddering fingers over her eyes before speaking.

“The marks are from the traps, aren’t they?”

“Uh.” Sam leaned over to check them. One wrist, their neck, and their hips. “Yeah, that’s where the snares got them.”

“I think my mom said it’ll discourage moving but stabilize the core. They should be fine if we hurry.”

“Hurry to where?”

“More ectoplasm.” Jazz put the car in reverse, whipping out of the lot like she was taught to drive by a maniac. Sam collided with Phantom and had to struggle to get her seatbelt on. “You said this-Phantom-is a new ghost?”

“We think?” Tucker tried. “They don’t talk and they don’t remember things.”

“They probably can remember how to talk, they just didn’t have a tongue until now.” Sam didn’t know how to secure the ghost but they seemed relatively unbothered, slathering themself over all the seats with a rickety breath. “They change their form a lot.”

“That lines up. I’ve been thinking that ghosts could change their external form based on their internal feelings on what they should look like for survival.” Jazz snapped into a hairpin turn. “Like an incredibly advanced adaptation to their environment. The psychology of any species leads to behavior, but they’re the first who had it lead to their biological makeup. It’s pretty interesting.”

“Is everyone in your family interested in ghosts?” Tucker grumbled.

“I wasn’t when they weren’t real. Now, they’re…you know, a clue. Something to figure out. For myself. And for Danny.” She graciously slowed down at the red light, even though Sam was certain she’d gun it. “How’s Phantom doing?”

“They’re…doing.” Or at least, their changes weren’t destroying the inside of the car. Phantom had two legs, then none, a strong tail thinning and shortening before coiling around their ankles several times over again. Fluffy paws became skeletal hands, then thick fingers like gloves. A muzzle flattened to a face still stuck with baby fat. Long bleached fur shed to translucent fuzz, blackened flesh, ethereal mist, defined muscle. It was like Sam had to look at them through a glaze, the image twisting and falling away before it could fully form. “You’re just going to sneak us into FentonWorks?”

“Yeah, like I’d bring a ghost that’s bleeding out to my parents.” Jazz’s usually saccharine tone dripped with sarcasm. “No, you’re going to keep talking to your friend and make sure they stay…awake? I guess? While I grab what I need.”

“But why are you helping?” Tucker asked.

Jazz didn’t answer. She left them in their silence for the next few minutes, stopping on the curb in front of her house and leaving the car locked as she rounded the steps.

Sam and Tucker were alone.

“She’s suspicious, right?”

Sam snorted. “Big time.”

“So…” Tucker jutted his thumb to the house with an eyebrow raised.

“Not yet. We need to have a talk first.” Sam leaned over, gently prodding Phantom’s cheek for their attention. They rolled onto their back, eyes heavily lidded as they laced skinless hands together at the center of their gut. When they were first caught, their length spread out their limbs like a wyrm, but now they looked like a regular kid…with a massive tail speckled like starlight drifting through the car and seats. “If you have some kind of input, let us know. We’ll try to, like, twenty questions your words or something.”

Phantom hummed in acknowledgement. It felt weird to see them with no glow to their core. Wrong, too dark except for those wounds that threatened to shatter them into glass. They were also too calm compared to the frenzy they flew into while bound, like she heard happens when adrenaline leaves someone’s system.

“Alright. Well, Jazz kept bringing up her brother, so it probably has to do with that.”

Phantom twisted long fingers into the drawstring of her hoodie, demanding attention. Tucker quickly explained, “her brother is the Danny she kept mentioning. He’s been missing for a few months.” Phantom nodded in understanding, relaxing again into shallow breaths.

“So does she think he got kidnapped by ghosts or something?” Sam scrunched up her face, trying to put that together with what little she knew of the Fentons from their school assemblies. “I mean, it’s a common theory, but wouldn’t they be more vocal about it?”

“The ghosts? I mean, I guess they could brag about snatching someone, but if they don’t want the ghost hunters coming after them, then they should stay quiet-”

“But it’s the ghost hunters’ kid. They’re going after them no matter what. That’s why it doesn’t make sense to keep it on the down low.” The car was freezing with a frosty spirit and the engine off, but Phantom melted the windows with a sigh and that took the edge off enough for her to think. “Maybe they took the wrong person and couldn’t go back on the mistake?”

“Yeah, like she’s studying ghost psychology because she wanted to know if they’d figure something like that out. Premeditated action and thinking of next steps and stuff.”

Phantom shook their head, snowflakes falling from their hair. They pointed to the gash in their throat, chuffing like an annoyed tiger.

“...But if she was thinking ghosts were the culprit, she wouldn’t come to break the traps down.” Sam pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Ugh, this makes no sense.”

“What if Danny’s a ghost?”

“Huh?” She lifted her head fast enough for her neck to creak, gawking at Tucker who continued to drum a beat on Phantom’s tail with his fingers.

“Why else would the child of a ghost hunter help free ghosts from traps?” Tucker started counting out the sequence of events. “Step one, Danny dies. Step two, she meets Danny’s ghost. Step three, she realizes it-he’s not just a monster, like we did with Phantom. Step four, she sees that all ghosts are like that, and that her parents are trying to do crazy tests with them. Step five, she starts freeing them to help out.”

“And if one of them gets hurt, she already knows they need ectoplasm to live and can get some. She’s keeping an eye on her parents’ theories of weaknesses so she can know them and keep them from using them on the spirits.” Sam kicked out her feet, disturbing Phantom’s rest with a grab to their frozen shoulders. “Dude, we have an expert who can help you get your memory back now!”

“Hold on, we don’t know that-” Tucker clapped his hands over his mouth at the rapping on the window. Jazz leaned down right outside, showing them a glowing metal can. She opened the driver side door and passed it back to them.

“We use this as, like, our main source of power to keep the electric bill down. Raw ectoplasm’s just lying around, and I think it’s like a blood transfusion for ghosts. I can sneak some to the park over the next few days.” Jazz looked hopeful as she watched Phantom fidget with the cap of it. “...Maybe I’ll leave it at your grave as an offering? And to say sorry that my parents did all of this.”

Phantom stared at her for a long moment. What they were looking for in their study, Sam didn’t know. They popped the lid and sat up, tipping the can back into their mouth. It didn’t end in a coughing fit. Instead, their throat bobbed, the slices sealing up in an eerie glow. The cracks solidified into fern-like crisscrosses of light and dark, ruining the uniformity of their coat. Really, it looked like a belt of frost keeping their waist safe much like their neck, one arm scuffed in black ice that they scratched at self consciously. The glow of their core left, mouth opening to dull green flesh and icicle teeth. They still couldn’t keep a consistent length to their form, but the nails were gone, face flat, and the wool around their throat thinned into wispy filaments like the patterns that decorated the frozen windows.

“Let’s get you back home.”

Chapter Text

On one hand, Sam was happy that Jazz had the foresight of knowing Phantom wouldn’t want a Fenton wandering through their haunt after that incident. It’s pretty nice of her to have that in mind, stopping Sam on her way out of school and giving her kitchen serving containers of goo for Phantom. Yeah, she technically shouldn’t be spending every night out in the park, but once she and Tucker started doing homework out there, it became hard to concentrate anywhere else, expecting their ghostly friend to be swept away the one time they don’t visit and give them their daily dose of medicine.

On the other hand, this newest gift was suspicious. Sam frowned at the metal sheet thrumming with heat, blue power much like the snares that hurt Phantom now coursing through the underside of a series of letters. It also had numbers and a few simple marks carved into it. Jazz offered a planchette next, and that cinched Sam’s incredulity enough to voice it. “Did your family make a knockoff ouija board?”

“Kind of? My parents never believed in mediums, but Danny thought there was more to the old stories than meets the eye. I don’t think he ever got past making this glow in the dark, but he said he was working on this being touchable to ghosts regardless of how tangible they are.” Jazz picked at her nails, which looked worried beyond what Sam called healthy. “It’s not much, but maybe it’ll work for your friend. They still can’t talk, can they?”

“...No.” Sam pouted, tucking it under her arm. “But we’ve tried all sorts of communication devices. I don’t think a Victorian toy will help.”

“Better than nothing, right?” Jazz smiled dimly, then offered one of many missing person flyers that they’ve put in post offices and on the ends of city blocks. “Just…please ask them if they’ve seen Danny? For me.”

“Yeah, sure.” With zero intentions of doing that, Sam stored the poster and dragged Tucker to the park. They only paused to pull out their flashlight in the darkness-

“Sam, hold on.” Tucker pointed to the faintest glow at the edge of the wood. Her heart climbed up her throat, expecting it to be more razor wires in a desperate attempt to steal their friend, but the spark winked out too quickly. Then, it drifted a bit further, a ball of light that twisted in the air to fall on the tip of her nose. It’s cold and melted on her skin, no larger than a snowflake.

A clattering sound, like the excited song of a thunderstorm, echoed through the trees. The bubbly cadence came across as laughter, leaving her to picture a spirit covering their smile in gleeful hands.

“They have new tricks.”

“Yeah, ones that’ll get them caught.” Tucker glanced to the fence at the edge of the park, not far enough to shield them from view. “They can make light and sound in a city that’s always pitch black and lost all its animals. They’re getting carted off by the end of the week.”

“Dude, would you be acting this happy if you got caught in a fox trap?” Sam nudged him, a bit too harsh as she waded through the snow towards the specks of brightness like falling stars. “Let Phantom have this.”

“Why? So they can get hurt again?”

“Because they’re probably a kid too.”

Tucker shut his mouth at that, looking up just in time to fall ass first into the snow. Sam didn’t see why he did that, not until she turned back around to peer into the trees.

“Phantom?” She gawked at the teen hanging upside down in the tree branches, a long tail keeping them hooked so they could cross their legs in the air freely. They smiled, a full mouth of pale lips and teeth that didn’t scare the hell out of her anymore, sharp in the way that fake vampire fangs from the store are. The paws are gone, looking more like furry gloves that thinned into dark leather covering their skin. Their frame was hard to see at first with the black tail curled around dead wood, but when they waved they sent sparks of ectoplasm swirling in a flurry outwards. Black pupils widened with glee at the sight, giggling compulsively at the shine around them.

“How are you doing that?” Tucker asked her question before she could, twisting in place to watch the radiant snowfall.

Phantom dropped from the tree without caring for the impact, sliding seamlessly into the snow and emerging to shake a metal can at them.

“Ectoplasm.” Sam wanted to kick herself. “Ghosts probably need food, duh. They actually have energy now.”

“I thought haunts gave them energy?”

“Yeah, enough energy to exist, not to do…” Sam set the ouija board on the ground so she could gesture at the display. “You’re doing okay, though?”

Phantom nodded, mindlessly tracing the frost patterns engraved in their being. It was strange to see when the fur kept disappearing, now echoing back in long hair that seemed no different from the shaggy bangs up top. They need a haircut, if that’s a thing ghosts can have.

“Great.” Tucker sat in the snow, used to the chill at this point. “Well, Jazz brought us something to try for you. It’s, uh, not made by her folks, so don’t worry.”

“Danny created it. I think he never wanted to hurt ghosts, just…I don’t know, talk to them?” Sam watched Phantom crouch in renewed interest, balancing on the balls of their feet as they picked up the planchette. “Something you can’t phase through when you try to talk to us. It’s kinda fashioned like an old game, so it’s not a perfect system, but-”

Phantom took off the tip of the planchette, revealing a port like the end of a flash drive, and held out one hand toward Tucker expectantly. He fumbled through his pockets for his phone, holding it until Phantom removed a different piece of the puzzle for an end that could plug into the device. The planchette glistened in green, the phone forced to warm up, as they brushed their fingers across the ouija board. After it took on the same shine, they pressed their fingers into the letters, positioning the phone where Sam and Tucker could look at monochrome text as they tittered away.

KEYBOARD.

“How…did you know to do that?” Tucker said slowly.

IT DOESNT SAY HELLO AND GOODBYE LIKE A OUIJA BOARD DOES. IT HAS BASIC PUNCTUATION, THOUGH. SIMPLIFIED KEYBOARD.

“Okay but that doesn’t mean that you’d know a phone would work when it never fucking works out here.”

GHOST POWERS? Phantom shrugged, although they couldn’t wipe the smirk off their face if they tried. IT JUST MADE SENSE TO ME.

“But it works!” Sam clapped her hands, leaning in all too happily. No way she’s looking this gift horse in the mouth. “This’ll make it easier to remember stuff, right? We can ask you questions, and you’ll be able to answer them.”

SURE.

“Okay, so…” Sam paused, considering where they could start. “Is it, uh, rude to ask certain questions? Anything off limits?”

I WANT TO KNOW AS MUCH AS YOU DO.

“Then do you remember dying?” Tucker refused to mince his words. Phantom’s hands stiffened, their eyes becoming catlike slits. They shook it out a moment later, shoulders hunched.

A LITTLE. They tapped their fingers on the edge of the keyboard, throat bobbing in a swallow. I THINK I WAS AFRAID. I SAW A BIG GREEN LIGHT, AND I WAS BURNING. I THOUGHT I NEVER WANT TO BURN AGAIN. THEN NOTHING HURT AND I WAS COLD.

“Do you know where that was?”

I COULDNT SEE. IT WAS TOO BRIGHT. They reached to rub the back of their head in a nervous tic. I DONT KNOW WHY, BUT I THOUGHT I WAS IN TROUBLE. I JUST HAD TO LEAVE. THEN I WASNT THERE ANYMORE.

“Okay, so there was an impending danger. That narrows down a lot.” Sam thought burning could be fire or a fever, but ghosts shouldn’t get fevers and fire isn’t exactly green. Well, ectoplasmic fire’s green, but ghosts haven’t been around for-wait. “Do you know when you died?”

I DONT KNOW HOW LONG IVE BEEN HERE. NOT TOO LONG? They shrugged again, more morose. IM SORRY.

“Hey, if we thought this was your fault, would we be trying to help you out?” Tucker patted their arm, then flinched slightly at the freezing feel of their skin on his glove. “Ouch. Any chance you could get the warm paws back?”

I DONT CHANGE ON PURPOSE. IT JUST HAPPENS WHEN IT FEELS RIGHT. Phantom glanced to Sam hopefully. YOU SAID I FEEL WARMER, THOUGH?

“Every time we see you,” she promised, “and more human, too. Like, less scary-not that I was scared of you, of course, or I mean-”

YOU SHOULDVE BEEN SCARED. YOU WERE DYING.

“What?” Tucker turned to glare at her. “You told me you just had a bit of frostbite!”

NO, SHE WAS FREEZING TO DEATH. I COULD SMELL IT ON HER. Phantom looked puzzled, continuing after a moment, NO ONE WHO CAME TO THE PARK SMELLED LIKE DEATH BEFORE. OTHER HUMANS SAW ME AND RAN AWAY. YOU SAW ME AND STAYED STILL. IT WAS DIFFERENT.

“Can’t run when you have hypothermia,” Sam pointed out. “And if you stayed hidden, you’d never be in this much trouble.”

I DIDNT KNOW SOMETHING COULD HURT ME. DIDNT KNOW SOMETHING COULD LIKE ME, EITHER. Phantom shrank a bit. YOU THANKED ME. IT FELT NICE. THROWING SNOWBALLS FELT NICE, TOO. AND BEING HELPED. MEETING NEW PEOPLE. TALKING TO THEM. EVERYTHING IS NICE NOW.

“That’s what friendship is.” Tucker scooched forward enough to knock his knee against Phantom’s. “You know, wanting to make other people feel good. And you did prove Sam’s point.”

HER WHAT?

“I wanted to meet you to prove ghosts aren’t unfeeling monsters.” Sam’s words felt coppery in her mouth now, seeing how Phantom’s her height, probably her age, too. “You were the only one I heard about who didn’t attack people. That’s why the Fentons went for you, too, since you posed the least danger.”

OH. Phantom sighed, mist falling from their mouth. THEYLL HURT YOU FOR HELPING ME.

“Nah, Jazz would keep that from happening.” Tucker waved their concern away easily. “That family doesn’t go after humans, but she’ll help you if she thinks you’ll do the same back.”

HELPING A GHOST BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO FIND DANNY? I STILL DONT GET IT.

“Me neither.” Sam patted the pockets of her coat, bringing out the paper she shoved inside. “I don’t think he’s a ghost, but it’s worth a try. Have you seen him?”

Phantom dissipated more wisps of light into the air, letting them float by their head as they picked up the flyer. Their tail bushed like a cautious animal, dropping the page to type on the keyboard again. YOU SAID THIS IS A FENTON?

“Yeah, the ghost hunters. Jazz is cool, I guess, and I think Danny is too? But their parents are nuts.” Sam shook her head. “No wonder Danny ran off.”

BECAUSE THE FENTONS ARE DANGEROUS?

“Mega dangerous. Do you not remember my ghost hunter lecture?” Tucker worked himself up again, cautious to a fault. “Being seen or heard by humans can get you caught by them. All that junk they used to trap you? They’re not trying to get rid of you, they’re trying to keep you for tests. Probably really painful ones. You seriously need to chill with the light show at night so you don’t get ripped apart on an autopsy table.”

“Tucker,” Sam chided. “Don’t spook them.”

“Why not? It’s a matter of afterlife and death! I don’t want them destroyed by the Fenton freaks.”

Phantom directed their attention back to them with a lash of their tail. I UNDERSTAND. ILL BE CAUTIOUS NOW, DONT WORRY.

“Sorry for bothering you about the Danny business-” Sam began, only for the words on the screen to make her brain go blank.

HE DIED. Phantom creaked their neck unnaturally, staring at the keyboard instead of them. I SAW IT. I REMEMBER NOW. They lifted their legs from the snowbank, leaving no imprint as they left the phone in the drift. TELL JAZZ NOT TO WORRY ANYMORE. They quickly stole the planchette, and the scattered snowflakes that left the impressions of stars around them winked out as one. Sam sat in the dark, unable to sense Phantom near them anymore.

“Who’s telling Jazz?”

Chapter Text

“Uh.” Sam stopped next to Tucker, looking at the scene at the cairn. Someone set up a tent right by it, a mini generator buzzing away with green liquid sloshing in a glass canister. Cords wove through it like a bird’s nest, leading to a computer that illuminated Jazz’s haunted face as she mindlessly typed away. Most of the glade had little will-o-wisps to thank for its lighting, flecks of ectoplasm drifting with minds of their own like fireflies. That meant Sam could see the wrappers for supposedly-healthy foods scattered around Jazz, most likely placed in a pile and then blown over in the snow. Even more alarming was the sheer amount of metal cans and glass bottles, one knocking against her boot the second Sam shuffled forward. “Out of everyone in school, I never thought you’d be drinking underage,” she muttered in a vain attempt at a joke.

“It’s ectoplasm containers. I ran out of the excess that we would store for power and I could steal without my parents noticing, so I just started putting it in everything safe.” Jazz flicked her eyes up to them for barely a second, returning to whatever she was working on. “I need it for power and food for him-them. You said you don’t do anything to summon them, they just show up?”

“Yeah, but they’ve learned by now that a Fenton setting up tech right at their cairn is dangerous.”

Jazz flinched, her face becoming redder in the dropped temperature. “I’m just doing homework while I wait. Then I shut it off and read.”

“So you’re camping here because…?” Tucker asked slowly. “You want to freeze to death?”

“No. Phantom saw Danny. I’m coming here every night until I get answers.” Jazz stilled her hands for a moment, looking disappointed at her work on screen. “If I could get the school to listen to me, I’d just skip classes and stay here.”

Sam sucked in a breath through her teeth, choosing to slide her vision to the trees to not look her in the eye. She thought she saw a shadow sliding through the branches, but she wasn’t sure, squinting harder.

“-mean that Phantom knows where he is now,” Tucker was saying, cutting into her thoughts at the tail end of whatever diatribe he was on today. “So you should stay where it’s safe. Right, Sam?”

“Uh huh.” She tilted her head, wishing that they were back to when only Phantom glowed, not the snow they made with their power, so she could search for them in the darkness. “Ghosts are territorial. If they don’t want you in here, I bet they could kill you with cold.”

“He’s not planning to kill me, he’s hiding from the problem.” Jazz had her attention again with a steeled gaze. “He always hid when he thought he was in trouble, and I always waited until he came out and realized he was fine. I’m not stopping now.”

Tucker looked to Sam for clarification, who could only shrug. “You lost me. Are we talking about Danny or Phantom?” She wordlessly went back to typing. Sam saw another flicker, someone behind Jazz that made the ectoplasm glisten brighter. The difference in power twisted, drifting in a line between the floating orbs and the battery juice to lead them out of the glade. Sam followed, Tucker close behind. After a stretch of pitch black trees and bleached snow, they were within a stone’s throw of the pond where Sam fed the ducks as a child. The air grew heavy, a feeling of loneliness like the peak of a mountain piercing her heart.

Phantom appeared with their legs poised above flawless snow, feet forced into seamless shapes like they were wearing furred boots. Their ebony flesh from the neck down hung off of them in creases, less like skin and more like cloth. The frost shapes seemed more embroidered than real, the long fleece around their collarbone flattened into a solid neckline. Their eyes and mouth both looked human, if not a bit tired. There’s enough definition to the pallor of their face for her to find features, an aquiline nose complimenting a sharp jaw. It was shockingly solid, corpselike in an approximation of what they used to be. They had a darkness to them, one they fought off a bit with light sprinkled through the air like snowfall frozen in time around them.

“Phantom!” Sam reached for them, pausing as soon as lips twitched in a defensive snarl. “You alright?” They slackened their shoulders like a sigh, pulling the keyboard from…she didn’t know where. She just plugged her phone in and let them type, holding the screen between her and Tucker. SHE WONT LEAVE.

“Jazz?” Tucker jutted his thumb behind him. “Look, if she’s bothering you, we’ll chase her off. It’s the least we can do in exchange for stepping on your territory.”

I DONT CARE WHEN PEOPLE TRESPASS. THEY DONT GET TO TOUCH MY GRAVE.

“Shoot. Do you need to-uh-sleep in it?”

Phantom squinted at Tucker, then leaned forward to give them a sense of their chill. They were no colder than a musty breeze in autumn. YOU SAID THE FENTONS ARE CRAZY. WHY WOULD I WANT HER NEAR ME, THEN? They frowned, staring at the keys in their lap. WOULD YOU WANT A FENTON NEAR YOU?

“Not if they’re going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you’re our friend.” Sam reached out to give them a reassuring pat. Her hand passed right through, Phantom not bothering to dodge her. “Or, you know, I’d like to think we’re friends. It’d be weird for us to keep visiting a ghost we don’t care about.”

“Seriously, Jazz is only here for Danny. If someone you don’t like being in your haunt is a problem, we’ll handle it.”

Phantom tilted their head in thought. Their eyes flickered, connecting dots Sam couldn’t see, before they dipped in the air to float to the glade. “Uh, Phantom…” She began, following with hands swiping through empty air to stop them. “You shouldn’t…”

They turned their head to give her the tiniest grin, then set their face again and phased through the trees. Sam couldn’t do that, and she had the added benefit of snow clinging to her boots, so her march back was slow. Tucker kept pulling her arm, asking what they were doing.

How was she supposed to know?

The ectoplasm swirling in the air like snowfall kept their way lit enough to enter the clearing again. Jazz stood in the center, shoes wobbly on the cairn, with Phantom floating above her. She had her hands twisting in theirs with teary eyes. They leaned down, opening their mouth. Sam couldn’t hear any words, but she saw their lips moving. Jazz released them with shaky gloves.

“What did you do?”

Phantom looked up at Sam’s question. The spirit smiled, swirling over to retrieve the keyboard and click away. Jazz turned away to climb down to her tent. I SOLVED IT.

“You what?”

I TOLD YOU, I REMEMBER NOW. SHE WONT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DANNY ANYMORE. I HAD TO STOP HIDING FIRST.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave to find me, you big jerk.” Jazz lost the image of grief the moment she came closer to them, lips fighting not to curl upwards as she regarded Phantom. “So what else was I supposed to do?”

Phantom rolled their eyes, swiping the phone to hold for them to all see their words. YOU DONT STALK A GHOST GRAVE, JAZZ. YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, SHOULD KNOW THAT BY NOW.

“Sorry for not assuming you’re buried in the middle of a park. Not like you left a note.” Jazz adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “But you’re fine here?”

IM LEARNING. THE ECTOPLASM GAVE ME MORE ENERGY. MAYBE I CAN LEAVE HERE SOON. I COULD WORK ON TALKING MORE. Phantom leaned in with a hopeful look. UNTIL THEN. COME VISIT?

“I would’ve been doing that the whole time if I knew.” She brought her arm up for a hug, the ghost leaning in to squish cold into warm. “I love you, Danny.”

“Danny?” Sam dug through her pockets to find the flyer, holding it up near their face. Yeah, it’s similar hair if you colorswap it, and the eyes have the same bored squint, the nose… “But how’d you die and end up here?”

I TOLD YOU WHAT I REMEMBERED. I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE, SO I TOOK MY BODY AS FAR AS I COULD FLY AND LEFT IT HERE. SEEING MY OWN FACE MADE IT OBVIOUS WHO I USED TO BE, THOUGH.

“You could’ve said that when we were talking about it,” Tucker snapped in irritation.

BUT THE FENTONS ARE DANGEROUS, REMEMBER? NUTS. CRAZY. Danny shook his head, the starkness of his face cooling to a human glow. I DONT WANT TO BE NEAR THEM.

“I’m so sorry, Danny. I would say that Mom and Dad wouldn’t set up traps here if they knew it was you, but…” Jazz bit her lip. “They’d probably just try harder to catch you.”

WE CAN BE FINE WITHOUT THEM. YOU WOULDNT VISIT A GHOST YOU DIDNT WANT SAFE, RIGHT?

“So you’re not telling them.” Sam shifted, hugging her arms close to her body. “You’re just going to stay buried in the park forever.”

NOT SO BAD. IM NOT A COLD, UNFEELING MONSTER, REMEMBER? JUST COLD. Danny snickered at his own joke, a voice coming through an empty throat before dying down again. BUT EVERY TIME I LEARN MORE, I GET WARMER. IM SURE WE CAN FIGURE IT OUT.

Sam nodded stiffly, staring at the powder on her shoes. She felt ridiculous for envying him now. She hoped that he got some grand dream of seeing the world away from ghost hunting nonsense, and instead he was floating through a park, waiting for a human to talk to. Danny Fenton was dead the whole time. He never left Amity Park.

“Sam?” Tucker nudged her. “Hey, you got your answer. Actually, we got plenty of answers. This is the part where we celebrate.”

“It’s not a very nice ending, though.” Sam sniffed, looking up with watery eyes. “You’re still dead. You don’t have a home to go back to. We didn’t help you remember at all.”

YOU WERE THE FIRST ONE TO TALK TO ME. YOU BROUGHT ME A PICTURE OF MYSELF SO I CAN FIGURE IT OUT. YOU BROUGHT ME MY SISTER, TOO. OF COURSE YOU HELPED. Danny looked more morose as he continued, I DIDNT HAVE MUCH OF A HOME TO GO BACK TO, ANYWAY. FENTONWORKS WOULD NEVER BE A HAPPY ENDING.

“We’ll make it better by visiting, right?” Tucker urged. “We’ll set up defenses against the Fentons, get you some entertainment, find more power so you can leave here longer-”

“-but that won’t bring you back.”

THAT WAS NEVER A GOAL, SAM. I JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHO WILL TALK TO ME, AND THATS YOU THREE. I COULDNT BE HAPPIER. Danny gave her a mischievous smile. NOW. I BELIEVE WHEN I GOT BETTER, YOU WANTED TO GO ICE SKATING?