Rewind
Everything has gone wrong.
So wrong.
So incredibly fucked in the face with a rusty crowbar levels of wrong.
Danny can't even begin to think how or when things started going wrong. He just knows that he screwed up somewhere. Somehow.
It has to be his fault.
It's always his fault.
Dan's laughter echoes in his ear.
He winces, shaking.
Even that was better than this.
Red and green drips from no longer white gloves onto cold tile.
Cacophonous noise washes around but Danny stares at the way the two colors pool and puddle between his knees.
There's a click and the whirring of an ecto gun building charge.
He almost misses it.
He doesn't miss the black boot stepping into his line of sight.
Letting out a gust of a breath, he looks up.
His core thumps painfully as he glances down the barrel of the gun.
Past that into the hardened gaze of the one person he thought he could always rely on.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Me too," she says.
Danny closes his eyes.
She pulls the trigger.
The expected pain doesn't come. Just cold darkness.
The cacophony of sound washes away into the ticking of a clock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
A deep resounding beat that reverberates in his bones.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
A cool hand presses against his forehead, covering his eyes.
"Daniel," Clockwork says in a voice made of groaning gears and absolute wretchedness.
A sob escapes Danny's throat, just as broken.
"I've given you one last chance," Clockwork says.
"No," Danny gasps. "Please, no."
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," Clockwork continues.
Danny blindly reaches to grasp onto his hand.
"I don't-no," he pleads.
"Make it count, my child," there are tears in his voice.
Danny chokes on a sob.
A press of a kiss to the top of the head.
"Please," is the barest whisper against hair.
He squeezes the hand and let's go.
The sound of the clock speeds up into a buzz.
"Goodbye, my child."
"I love you."
Danny is pushed back.
He falls.
The buzz grows louder.
Flashes of heat and cold passes.
Swirling lights and sounds.
Screams.
Green.
Laughter.
Blue.
A startled shout.
Yellow.
Familiar whispers of love.
Purple.
Quiet promises.
Orange.
It all fades into quiet darkness. Warm, soft, gentle darkness.
The buzz has slowed to a full th-thmp th-thmp that reverberates and soothes his core.
For the first time in years, he feels safe.
Truly safe.
It doesn't last though. Of course not. That would be too kind.
Too merciful.
He doesn't deserve it.
The th-thmp th-thmp quickens into a staccato tempo first.
The intense pressure of being squeezed almost painfully next.
It builds.
And builds.
And builds.
Until it's suddenly gone. Replaced by so much more of everything.
It's too loud.
Too bright.
Too cold.
Everything hurts.
He cries.
Something smooth and soft wraps around him just before having something so warm and soft press against his cheek.
The soft th-thmp th-thmp returns in his ear.
Soft murmuring filled with so much love pulls him from his tears.
Big, watery blue-green eyes blink up into indigo framed by soft brown hair.
"Oh my sweet baby boy," she whispers, "my beautiful baby, it's okay."
He tries to reach up to touch.
This can't be real.
It has to be a dream.
Flashes of memory - of gray stone with fresh dirt, of rain and black clothes - flit by.
A too big hand catches his and gives a tiny squeeze. He squeezes back.
Hazmat orange moves, catching his gaze.
"What a grip," is the half boom, evidently trying to be quiet, gentle. "Just like his old man, your gonna do us Fenton's proud."
"Jack," she chides with laughter.
"Look at him, he's the spittin' image of me, but he has your eyes, Mads," Jack gushes. "So smart, he'll be as smart as you, I bet."
"And loving and caring as his father," Maddie snuggles him tighter to her chest. "Right Daniel?"
Danny looks back up into his mom's face, bottom lip wobbling.
"Oh sweet baby, what's wrong?" She gives him a light bounce.
Danny simply buries his head into her chest and sobs.
It's real.
They're real.
It's not an illusion.
Clockwork did the impossible.
He was given another chance.
A chance to start over. From the very beginning.
To make things right.
To fix his mistakes.
To fix everything.
He has to.
Part 2 for this! Instead of making this into a ridiculously long post, it's under the cut.
Her child slept.
A slight furrow to his brow and the smallest of whimpers came unbidden from his tiny body.
She gently brushes a lock of black hair, tracing his round face.
He quiets down, calming.
Pulling back from the crib, she settles back into bed. Worries and thoughts plague her mind.
Her child is different.
He doesn't cry often.
Jazz cried often over everything.
He's too quiet.
Jazz fussed and giggled and gurgled and chirped and made all those other baby noises.
He's still.
Unimaginably so.
Children should fumble with their toys and jerk and all sorts of things as they learn how to move their bodies.
His movements, while slow, are deliberate.
There's a quiet steadfastness that impresses upon the imitation of a honed warrior.
He's cold.
Skin chilled to the touch.
Not clammy, no. That would imply he was sick.
Her child was most definitely not sick.
And those eyes.
Swirling blue green that shift and shine.
He watches.
With old eyes.
Jack once said they remind him of soldiers from the war.
She can't refute the idea as she's reminded of the hardened gaze of her teacher.
Despite the chill that clings to him, the hardness in his gaze, his eyes are filled with unconditional warmth.
The contradiction hurts.
He watches them.
With intelligence behind those shining eyes.
As if he knows something.
Something terrible.
Echoes of conversations on a broken record loop through her mind.
High levels of an unknown substance in his blood.
Fused to his cells.
His DNA.
A substance that looks eerily like the ectoplasm she and Jack study.
Like the experimental vat that fell on her mere months ago.
The test results haven't come back yet.
The gnawing suspicion that it's her fault eats at her.
She turns to look at her boy.
White hair shining in the moonlight.
Big glowing eyes stare at her.
Green like ectoplasm.
He blinks, gaze turning away.
She gets up.
A shadow of a cloud steals the moonlight.
She cards her fingers in soft black hair.
Blue green eyes blink up at her.
A trick of the light.
Has to be.
The alternative would mean-
Moonlight breaks through the clouds.
Glowing eyes shine up at her.
She chokes on air.
The knowledge pierces her.
It's her fault.
She hurt her baby.
Before he even drew his first breath.
She hurt him.
A tear slips down her cheek.
A sob catches in her throat.
Small hands catch hers, holding tight to her fingers, tugging them to his chest.
Eyes furrowed in worry.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
He shakes his head, reaching up.
Scooping her child, her baby boy, into her arms, she sinks to the floor.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," whispered like a chant against soft hair. Like a lullaby.
She clutches him tight to her chest.
Too strong arms cling just as tightly.
Her heart shatters again.
Her baby.
Her little boy.
What has she done?
It's irrefutably her fault.
She cries into his hair.
He clings to her and doesn't make a sound.
Just holds her.
Comforts her.
She aches with guilt.
Here she is, crying over her baby boy. Her baby boy who sees with too intelligent eyes.
Her baby who tries to comfort her.
She presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“I love you, I’m so sorry, my beautiful baby."
He shifts, pushing away.
Intelligent eyes, furrowed with pain and love stare up at her.
His small hands brush her cheeks.
Lips turn up in a bittersweet smile before he curls up in her arms.
She curls around him and holds him tight.
The hallway grandfather clock ticks softly in the oppressive quiet of the night.
Time eases into a quiet tranquility.
She shifts to peer into his round face.
Eyes closed but fluttering.
A hint of a smile.
A good dream, then.
About time, she muses, idly, getting to her feet.
Gently, she tucks him back into his crib.
A strong grip catches her finger.
Another kiss pressed to his head.
"I'm right here, Daniel, it's okay," she whispers.
"I love you."
"I'll always love you."
The grip loosens.
A final kiss with an unspoken promise.
She will do everything in her power to right her wrong.
To make up for her failure.
To fix it.
She swears it upon her heart, shattered as it may be.
Her son sleeps.
Part 3!
Lmk if you want to be tagged for the next update. Also this is all on ao3 under the same name, Rewind.
Part 4 is up!
Thank you @bibliophilea for helping me with this chapter 💜💜💜
Part 5!
Danny finds the days easier.
Maddie wanders between the kitchen and the lab.
Oscillating between making food and conducting research.
He watches the darkness growing under her eyes.
Sees the way she shifted from being listless to determined agitation.
Flitting back and forth.
Jack moves on a similar path but splits his time further to spending time with Jazz.
Telling stories, helping Jazz with her homework, playing with her.
He can’t remember Jack ever being so attentive to her.
To either of them.
Because Jack includes him too.
Holding him whenever they’re not in the lab or eating.
It makes something in him hurt.
Clenching painfully.
Seeing this change.
Jazz is by far the light of his days.
She babbles at him constantly.
It's so cute to see her.
So small.
So young.
So innocent.
Free from worries.
Free of all the stress of handling ghost politics.
Of the grief of loss.
Unmarred by the scars from the war.
His core pulses cold.
Latching on to the need to protect her.
Protect her from facing that same reality again.
Of living that horror all over again.
And it’s not just her.
Seeing his parents so young.
The same age he and Jazz were when they placed the headstones.
Unmarred by the signs of passing time.
No gray hairs.
Or aged hands.
No crows feet.
Or weathered, fleeting smiles.
Seeing his family again.
Whole.
Alive.
It's almost too much.
Clockwork said that he was giving one more chance.
This is more of a gift than anything.
A precious gift.
One that he wants to hold onto and treasure.
Every minute.
Every second.
Every heartbeat.
To hold tightly to his core.
To protect the smiles of his family.
To cherish these precious moments.
To save them.
Danny can’t help but to watch them.
To stare.
Terrified he’d miss a single precious second.
The nights are harder.
Jazz refuses to go to sleep if she can’t see him.
Their parents are at a loss as to the nightly screaming and tears.
Danny understands the underlying emotion.
Can feel it in the air as night approaches.
Taste it every time they’re separated.
Jazz is scared.
Terrified even.
Somehow convinced that if she takes her eyes off him, he’s going to disappear.
Jack is the one who figures it out first.
Taking them both up to bed together and separating them once she’s asleep.
That is, until Jazz woke up one night and couldn't find him.
Now they sleep together.
It's nostalgic.
Reminding him of how they all slept in piles in the caves at the start of the war.
Taking turns keeping watch.
Danny hates it.
Hates how something so innocent is being tarnished by the memory.
It keeps him awake at night.
It's worse when the fighting between his parents gets loud.
He has to control his agitation.
To stop it from affecting Jazz.
To keep her from waking up to it.
Wake up in fear of him.
When they finally go to bed themselves, Danny can finally relax.
He rarely sleeps.
His insomnia and hypervigilance act up in the quiet darkness.
Making him restless.
He needs to move.
To do something.
There's an aching need.
To follow the urge scared him.
It's how he got into trouble in the first place.
The urge to explore areas unknown.
The ache to find it.
The need to have it.
Danny wants to scream.
To chase the clawing itch away.
He tries to keep busy in the quiet darkness.
To train his powers.
To relearn his limits in his tiny body.
It helps some.
To keep the need at bay.
The nights without the itch is worse though.
His paranoia runs rampant.
That this is all a trick of some sort.
That these precious moments are but delusions of his subconscious as his real body draws its last breath.
Or worse.
He's been captured.
That these are just an illusion made by the enemy.
Jazz's sweet innocent sleeping face becomes one of torture.
It can't be real.
This chance.
This life.
It has to be fake.
Why would Clockwork deem him worthy enough of something so precious?
Deem him worth the risk for this chance?
The power needed to do this would have cost them their title, their existence.
Danny knows, from the years spent studying under the elder ghost, exactly the sort of power needed to do the impossible.
Because nothing is truly impossible.
It's just a matter of raw power to force the universe to bend to your will.
And this?
This second life?
It should have been impossible.
No ancient has the power to pull this off.
Not without destroying their own existence.
Without any guarantee that it would succeed.
And Clockwork wouldn't do that.
Not for anyone.
Let alone Danny.
He wasn't worth the risk.
No matter what anyone said.
Danny was not worth it.
Yet.
Always.
Without fail.
With the dawning of the new day.
Clockwork's last words would echo.
In time with the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
"Make it count."
"Please."
"Goodbye."
"I love you."
Jazz says nothing as she wipes his tears on these mornings.
Saying nothing.
Holding him when his silent battle becomes too much.
When he sobs silently into her shoulder.
Despite his darkest fears.
No-one in the entire universe knew.
Could have even the slightest inkling of the truth.
The faintest echo of the truth with the breaking of the dawn.
"My child."
Part 6!
Jazz watches the snow fall.
The way it dances in the glow of the street light.
Warm and bright, washed in gold.
How it swirls under the neon green and orange of their sign.
Colors chasing and fluttering around each other.
She thinks of the new book that Miss Caroline is reading to them.
About the little faeries and how they like to dance.
How it's a type of play.
Her dad and mom are shouting behind her.
About Santa and ghosts and just so loud.
Danny makes a noise drawing her attention.
He sits next to her on the couch, pouting at their parents.
His blue green eyes swirl in agitation.
Jazz shares the feeling.
She knows that the shouting is not... right. That's not the word she wants to use.
But she doesn't know a better word.
Doesn't know how else to describe the bad feeling she gets listening to them.
Danny is far more expressive.
He has a face for everything.
They always match how she feels.
He looks like he bit a lemon right now as the volume reaches a new high.
Danny looks up at her, head tilting in a question.
"The snow is pretty," Jazz says.
He blinks before rolling over to stand.
Jazz shifts to rest her head on her crossed arms on the back of the couch.
Danny leans into her side.
"Looks like fairies," she says.
Danny humms.
A rumbling sound that she can feel.
"I want to play like fairies," Jazz sighs.
Danny moves, drawing her attention from outside again.
His eyes sparkle, shining green.
He smiles.
Jazz smiles back, giddy.
They clamber down from the couch and move into the kitchen.
Danny has her stop before the back door.
"What?"
He puts a finger to his lips and vanishes.
Jazz blinks.
Pouting, she crosses her arms with a huff.
Just when she thinks of going to look for him, Danny fades back into sight.
He has her winter jacket and boots in his arms.
Jazz knows that babies shouldn't be able to hold things like that because she met Emily's little sister who couldn't hold her own milk bottle.
But Jazz also knows that Danny isn't like other babies.
Knows he's different in a lot of ways.
People don't just disappear when they want.
"Where's your snow stuff?" she asks.
He shakes his head.
"I'm not wearing it if you're not wearing it," she says.
His gaze narrows at her.
"No."
His blue green eyes shine like ice as he puffs a cold breath into her face.
She shivers.
"Fine, gimme," Jazz says, taking the coat.
Danny vanishes when she gets to her boots.
He has his boots and scarf as well as her hat and gloves when he returns.
Once bundled to his satisfaction, Danny takes her hand and pulls her through the door.
It makes her giggle, the tingle of walking through things.
She gasps at the sudden cold, blinking up into the snow flurries.
"Play?" Danny asks, eyes flickering between ice and neon.
"Play!" Jazz agrees brightly.
They take a step forward before Danny is pulling her off her feet and over the steps.
She lands gently on the snow as he floats away, feet dusting across the top.
A snowball taking shape in his hand.
"Hey! No powers!" Jazz shouts, trying to follow him.
He drops onto the snow with a crunch, snowball disappearing in a flurry of new snow flakes.
She lunges and they tumble into the snow in a fit of giggles.
Despite her continual protests, Danny continues to use his powers to float over the snow.
His hair shimmers and flutters like the snowflakes.
Jazz wants to be mad, but she can't.
Not with him smiling so bright.
A smile so rare that she wants to do everything to keep it there.
She thinks he looks like what a real fairy might look like.
A snow fairy maybe.
They make snow angels and snowmen as tall as the fence.
They build forts and hills to slide on.
And they play and laugh until Jazz's nose turns pink and her cheeks start to hurt.
Danny takes her hand to lead her back in when he freezes.
A small curl of blue mist leaves his mouth.
"What's that?" she asks.
"Wait," he whispers.
He floats up, spinning in a circle, eyes searching.
He stops, staring.
His small hand tightens painfully on hers.
He makes a face that sends a chill down her spine.
Colder than the snow and biting wind.
She wants to hide him.
And wrap him in soft things.
Jazz turns to look at what he's staring at.
Next to the door into the house is a man.
A blue man.
With red eyes and white hair.
There's a scar on his face.
He stares at them with a mean face.
No.
Not them.
Danny.
The man stares with that mean face at Danny.
Danny who looks like he wants to cry.
Like he's fighting something.
The man drifts forward silently.
"You have my blessing," the man states with a voice that reminds Jazz of the grandfather clock in the house.
"I do not recall giving my blessing to anyone."
"Another time," Danny answers.
The man's face twists into a meaner look.
Jazz squeezes Danny's hand, pulling him closer to her.
"It's gone now," Danny says with a voice of crushed snow. "It's all gone."
The man's face shifts to the same expression mom makes after a long fight with dad.
Danny sometimes makes it too, watching them argue.
Something tired.
But that not-sad-sad of not doing what they want.
The man hums, eyes shining bright.
He lifts a hand and places it on top of Danny's head.
Jazz's hand hurts from Danny's grip.
She says nothing though, watching how their glowing eyes shine brighter than before.
Red and green.
Like Christmas.
But not at all.
The colors are wrong.
Too dark a red.
Too bright a green.
Jazz flinches, hiding her face with her arm.
And then it's gone.
"I see," the man says.
Danny drifts down into the snow, tugging Jazz into a hug that she gladly returns.
"You are wrong about one thing though," the man continues. "Time is not an existence that can be erased. Your perspective has simply changed."
Jazz squeezes Danny.
"I will be watching."
He turns and fades into a cloud of mist.
The snow starts falling again.
"Inside," Jazz whispers. "I wanna be inside."
Danny nods into her tummy, sweeping her off her feet.
Between one blink and the next, she finds herself standing in the kitchen again.
It's warm.
Which hurts her cheeks.
And makes her eyes water.
There's a loud bang that makes the two jump.
Her dad bulldozes into the kitchen and freezes.
"Jazzipants! Danno!" he cries, scooping them up into his arms. "Where did you go?"
Jazz clings to her dad, and starts crying. Somehow she partially registers Danny crying next to her.
"Shush it's alright, daddy's got you," he says comfortingly.
Her mom is saying soft, gentle words as she takes the snow clothes off of them.
Jazz cries herself to sleep.
At least she thinks so.
Waking up in her own bed with no memory of getting ready for it.
Danny's small warm form is curled up into her side.
The rumbling hum he makes loud and gentle in the quiet darkness.
She rolls over to hug him tightly but stops.
Something red catching her gaze.
In the dark shadow of the far corner of her room, there's two glowing dots of red.
It blinks once.
Then gone.
She remembers the man's words.
His promise to watch.
She shakes, wanting to shout for her daddy.
Neon glowing green shine up at her.
A feeling of safety washes over her, making her loose and falling back into the mattress.
Danny stares at her, searching.
"Red in my room," she says.
He's up instantly, floating over her bed.
She pulls her blanket up and watches him.
"Gone," he says, drifting back down.
"You sure?" she asks.
He nods, slipping under the covers and curling into her.
She frowns at the chill he brings with him.
"Sleep," he says.
"Scared," she says. "He was scary."
Danny frowns before hugging her tightly. The rumble hum starts up again.
"Safe," he says with a voice like Halloween wind and summer thunderstorms.
It should scare her more because those are scary sounds.
But from him?
From her little brother?
From Danny?
It's a promise.
Comforting.
It blankets her like one of dad's hugs.
Smothers her like mom's kisses.
"I love you," she whispers.
He jolts, pulling back to stare at her with big eyes.
The glow is mostly gone.
Leaving only his swirling blue green eyes.
"I love you," she repeats, firmer.
He stares, open mouthed in surprise.
"I love you," she says, more sure of this statement than anything else in the whole world.
He gives her a big smile.
Brighter than when they were playing.
Brighter than anything else she's seen.
He hugs her, tucking his head into her.
"Love you too," he says into her chest. His voice rumbles not like thunder but something else.
She doesn't know what, but it doesn't matter.
Because she has her little brother.
Whose strong and magic.
Something shimmers.
She looks up to the window.
At the swirling glittering caught in the street lamp.
Jazz watches the snow fall.
Part 7!
Danny is tired.
He's spent the last few nights running patrols around the house.
Expanding just far enough to cover the block.
Being so small and without a direct line to any ambient ectoplasm means he doesn't have the stamina for more.
But that doesn't change his decision.
It makes Jazz feel safer.
Helps her sleep through the night.
Let's her dream peacefully.
Not that he's getting any sleep as it was.
Not after the run in with Clockwork.
Or well…
Not his Clockwork.
But Clockwork is always Clockwork.
Even if the memories are gone.
Even if it's a different variant.
The unanswered questions gnaw at him.
So he pushes himself.
Pushes his limits.
Because staying still means being left alone with his thoughts.
Alone with the questions.
And the cloud of doubt.
Danny is fucking exhausted.
Maddie and Jack have almost caught him as he loops around and through the house.
Separately, that is.
The first time it happened, it was thankfully one of the rare nights that they hadn't argued.
Which made it easier for Danny to keep Jazz asleep as he slipped out to patrol the house.
He became distracted, sitting on the top of the Ops Center.
It was a perfectly clear night.
And with the recent snowfall, the city lights were dimmed.
Danny could see so many stars.
The different winter constellations twinkling in time to an unheard melody.
He was pulled from his musings when he heard the latch open behind him.
Dropping from the visible plane, he turns to watch Maddie climb out with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm with a woolen blanket.
Danny hesitates, watching her settle on the rooftop.
Watches her open the bottle.
Watches her tilt back.
Bottom up.
Watches with wide eyes.
A chill, unrelated to the winter cold, settles in his bones.
She settles again.
Bottle half empty, resting in her lap, as she gazes at the stars.
Danny drifts away, plan half formed to head inside.
To give her her desired privacy.
"You're here, aren't you?" She asks the quiet evening.
Danny freezes.
She's not looking at him.
Her eyes are closed, head tilted back towards the stars.
She doesn't cry.
She sits unmoving for what feels like centuries.
"I'm sorry."
A whisper from unbidden lips.
She empties the rest of the bottle into the snow.
White turning black in the dim lights.
Red sparkling under twinkling starlight.
Danny does leave then.
He notes Jack's hunched form on the other side of the hatch.
A heated blanket in his hands.
Danny leaves them, and curls up with Jazz.
It's a few nights later on another patrol of the house the second time it happens.
When Jack was in the kitchen late one night with a bottle with his name on it.
The fighting between them was particularly bad that night.
Danny watches from the darkness of the unlit living room.
Watches his dad stare unseeing into the glass.
Watches the silent tears running down his face.
Watches his dad crumble.
Danny must move or make a sound because Jack's head snaps up.
Blue eyes searching.
"Danno?" Jack asks, voice shaking.
He stands slowly.
Danny freezes.
"Son?" Jack asks, voice firmer.
More confident.
He approaches the entryway.
"Is that you?"
Danny bolts.
He makes it back to bed to curl up with Jazz moments before Jack opens the door to look in on them.
Danny lets out a cold breath, causing Jazz to roll in her sleep to hug him.
It's enough.
Jack watches a heartbeat longer before pulling the door shut quietly.
Jack watches him more intently the following day after Jazz is dropped off at school.
After lunch, with Maddie in the lab, Jack takes Danny out for a walk.
The winter cold doesn't bother Danny.
If anything it's refreshing.
Despite the layers of bundling he's swaddled in.
Sometimes being a baby is fucking annoying in the weirdest ways.
Also exhausting.
What he wouldn't do to not be so fucking useless.
He swallows the bitter greediness down leaving a sour aftertaste of shame on his tongue.
Jack carries him to the park.
Danny watches the gray clouds as they walk.
The urge to fly - to make it snow - is tempered only by ages long self control and the warm hand holding him.
Grounding him.
Jack stops walking, settling on a snowy bench. Gaze turned upward.
Danny turns to watch him.
There's an internal battle and an unspoken question raging a war on his face.
Danny waits.
"Mads…" Jack starts and trails off.
Danny blinks, shifting to really see his dad.
"You mom and I…"
"We…"
A deep breath.
The wind whistles in the ice covered trees.
A deep sigh with defeated shoulders.
"I don't know what to do, son," he admits.
Jack looks down with a bitter smile.
"We can't seem to come to a decision on what to do, you see."
Danny blinks at the admission.
"We keep butting heads, Maddie and I."
A dry chuckle.
"We both agree on one thing.
"That you're different.
"That it's our fault."
Danny whines deep in his throat.
A noise of disagreement.
Of apology.
"Shh, it's okay," Jack says, giving him a little bounce, misinterpreting the sound. "You're okay."
Danny flaps his hands, hitting Jack to stop him from being bounced.
A noise close to a growl of frustration erupting from his chest.
Jack stops to stare.
Expression clouded with a question.
Danny returns the gaze, head tilting in confusion.
"Did you see?"
Danny fights to keep a blank expression.
"You were there last night."
It's not an accusation so much as a declaration.
A statement of fact.
He could have just as easily made a comment on the overcast sky with the same emotional inflection.
"Just how diff-" Jack cuts himself off with a shake of his head.
"You know exactly what we've been fighting about," he says instead.
"Because you can understand me."
Danny looks away.
Guilt and terror gripping his core.
The wind picks up, blowing into his face.
"You've always understood."
Danny squeezes his eyes shut, fighting tears.
"Please, let me know one thing," Jack's voice breaks.
"I need to know, please."
Danny looks up at the gutted expression on his dad's face.
"Are you really my son or an imposter?"
Danny gapes.
He does start crying.
A part of him was expecting this.
Expecting to be thrown out.
To be abandoned.
He refused to look at that thought.
To acknowledge it.
To do so would be admitting how he's on borrowed time.
How he couldn't have this.
How he's undeserving of this.
This chance.
This warmth.
Danny cries.
And cries.
And cries.
Exhausted from too many sleepless nights.
From the near constant fighting.
From pushing his limits.
For too long.
Without rest.
He reaches.
Blindly.
Searching.
Small hands outstretched.
Reaching for his dad.
For a chance to prove himself.
How much he loves and cares for his family.
How far he'd go to protect them.
To save them.
He's squeezed in a bone crushing hug.
A kiss, hot from emotion and wet from tears, is pressed to his head.
"I'm sorry.
"I had to know, son.
"I needed to be sure."
A warm hand presses on his cheek.
Rubbing away the tears.
Danny sniffles, hiccuping on his tears.
"Daniel," Jack presses a warm, ungloved hand to his cheek.
"Look at me, please?"
He rubs his face, winter coat scratching, chasing the wet.
Danny looks up.
And sees.
An expression of grief.
And a spark of hope.
An unspoken prayer.
Small hand wrapping around a finger.
"Has it always been you?"
Danny nods.
Jack swallows, leaning back.
Away.
Face to the clouds.
Danny doesn't know if he should bolt or wait.
If he made the wrong decision.
Showed too much.
If he should have kept pretending.
Kept hiding.
But he was so tired of hiding.
Of pretending to be what he's not.
Maybe, if he had done fewer patrols.
Had gotten more sleep.
He might have been able to hide it.
Kept pretending it was okay.
Kept the mask.
But he had a job.
To protect his sister.
His family.
He couldn't be selfish.
Couldn't rest.
He couldn't lose them again.
He won't.
He-
Jack's harsh, condescending bark of laughter snaps him from the spiral.
Core thumping painfully in time with his racing heart.
Danny waits.
Frozen.
Watching.
"Fuck."
He says once.
Emphatically.
"I'm the worst father on the planet."
"Have to be," he mutters, rubbing his face.
Danny whines, reaching to tug on the front of Jack's coat.
Jack looks down.
"You agree, right?" he asks, voice filled with self depreciation .
Danny shakes his head.
Little hands grabbing big cheeks.
Tugging.
Forcing Jack to bend.
To press foreheads together.
"Dad," voice broken from emotion and tears.
Jack gasps on a sob.
He moves to cradle Danny's head and press a kiss to his head.
"How could I have been so blind?"
Danny makes a noise that's a cross between a whine, a whimper and a growl.
"You've always been, and always will be my son," Jack smiles.
Danny chokes.
Emotion stealing his breath.
Hope.
Love.
Relief.
"I love you."
Jack's eyes blow wide.
Surprise color his face.
"I love you," Danny repeats, louder.
A smile brighter than the rising sun stretches ear to ear.
Jack stands abruptly, throwing Danny into the air with a laugh.
Danny, startled, does not squeal, but it's a near thing.
Jack catches Danny easily, pressing a big kiss to his cheek.
"Say it again!" he laughs, giddy.
Danny rolls his eyes, smiling wide.
"I love you, dad."
Jack barks a laugh and gives Danny another light toss before catching into a cuddle.
"That's my son, my Danno," Jack coos.
Danny can't resist the urge to giggle.
It's contagious.
The relief is palpable.
The endorphin rush, heedy.
Between his own emotions and his dad's, the emotional whiplash is enough to make him high.
Jack thrusts him out at arms length with the face of someone with a brilliant idea that they haven't thought through.
"We have to tell Mads!"
Danny has barely a moment to process that statement as Jack immediately begins a full sprint charge home.
And then it's more concern of being carried like a football and being bounced almost painfully.
Jack kicks the front door in with a booming, "Mads! You have to hear this!"
There's a bang from the lab of something falling and then the following boom of a small explosion.
Jack beelines for the stairs, passing no heed for the metallic plastic burn smell.
"Jack what in the world?" Maddie greets in sharp tones.
"You have to see this!" Jack repeats.
He bodily shoves a lab table clear, knocking the books and papers and other things onto the floor.
"Jack!" Maddie cries dismayed. Her gaze lands on Danny.
"I thought we agreed to not let the kids down here anymore."
"Yeah, we did, but this is important," Jack settles Danny on the table.
"You took him outside?" Maddie asks, moving to remove the heavy winter layers.
"My old man always said the cold would make kids stronger," Jack puffs his chest.
"Your father also believed that feeding children poison would give them strong bones," she huffs.
"Well look at me, I'd say he was right on that account," Jack exclaims, striking a pose.
Danny fights the urge to roll his eyes.
Maddie does not bother hiding her exasperation.
Jack shakes his head.
"Now that isn't the point, Mads, listen to this," he pushes her to the side to face Danny.
"Whose that, kiddo?" he points at Maddie.
Danny blinks confused.
"C'mon son, you know who that is, don't you?"
Danny looks away to his mom who stands with pursed lips and crossed arms.
"You can say it, who's that?"
"..."
"Danny, who's that?"
"Mom."
Maddie's eyes blow wide, mouth making a small o shape.
"That's right, and me!" Jack exclaims.
"Dad," he turns to return the bright smile his dad is giving him.
"That's right Danno," his smile grows even bigger.
"And what do we say to mom and dad?"
"I love you!" Danny says.
Maddie whimpers.
He turns his attention back to her.
He smiles bright.
"Love you, mom!"
"Oh Danny!" she cries, putting her hands to her mouth.
His smile dims.
There's a tang of something bitter in the air.
He turns to Jack and sees him watching Maddie as well.
Bafflement dimming his smile.
The moment suspends on a held breath.
"Oh Jack, we have to fix this, before it gets worse," Maddie says, looking at Jack.
"Fix what, Mads?" Jack's face creased in confusion.
"The contamination has spread so far, don't you see? We might be too late already."
"Too late? Maddie, this is our son we're talking about, not some experiment."
"We should have begun decontamination the moment we found out," she paces. "At this point, it might have caused irreversible damage-"
"Would you listen to yourself?" Jack cuts in. "At this point, separating the ectoplasm from him would cause more damage than what it's doing."
"You can't know that!" she snaps.
"No, but I'd rather not take the chance of him dying by some ill-conceived notion of trying to fix what isn't broken."
"Fix what...Jack, can't you see that thing is invading our son and destroying him?"
"The only thing I see is my son who loves us and understands that this is about him so let's just ask him!"
"What are you talking about? A baby can't understand such a complex issue."
"Well we'll just see then," Jack harrumphs before bending to be eye level with Danny.
Danny who watched the growing fight with wide eyes.
Frozen to his spot.
"Danno, will you be honest with me?" Jack asks, voice less booming. "If I ask you something, will you answer truthfully?"
Blue green eyes slide to glance at Maddie before steadying on Jack.
He presses his lips together.
He nods.
Just once.
Jack gives a bittersweet smile of encouragement.
"Do you know why you're different? That it's the ectoplasm inside you?"
Not quite correct.
But he nods once.
"What do you think if we were to remove it, to make you completely normal?"
Danny feels terror seize into his bones.
Heart stuttering to a halt before kicking into overdrive.
Stealing his breath.
The echoes of screams fill his ears.
Of buildings falling.
Of explosions.
The sound of flesh tearing apart.
The taste of pain.
Of fear.
Of death.
Dry and acidic on his tongue.
The smell of smoke burns his eyes.
Fire.
Everywhere.
A city in flames.
A city of death and destruction.
At his hands.
He didn't know.
How could he have known?
Dan's laugh rings loud.
Over the flames.
Over the crumbling towers.
Over the screams.
He can't breathe.
He has to stop it.
Has to prevent it from happening.
But he can't breathe.
Thmp.
Something heavy and warm and big hits him on the back.
Chilled air feels like ice, stabbing his throat.
His lungs.
He chokes on it.
Something warm is under his hands.
Rubbery.
Something warm holding him.
Patting his back.
There's a quiet voice.
One of love.
And tenderness.
Murmured into his hair.
Chasing away the echoes.
The taste of pain shifts from acid to burnt sugar.
It's shocking in its vibrance.
He blinks.
Trying to clear the vision of the fires.
Orange filling his sight.
His brain eventually catches on that he's being held.
He looks up to see his dad.
Murmuring nonsense at him.
"Sshh, it's okay, I've got you son, I've got you."
Danny hiccups, reaching to pat the side of Jack's cheek.
"Danno?" Jack's expression clears a moment.
Danny curls into his arms further.
He doesn't have the energy.
To pacify his dad.
To explain to his mom.
To make things right.
He's tired.
So very, very, tired.
Part 8!
They watch.
See the ripple.
The single pulse.
Expand swiftly.
Fleeting change.
Racing against itself.
Across the interwoven tapestry.
Source unseen.
Cause unknown.
The results, however.
Clear.
Quiet.
Catastrophic.
A deadly combination.
Paths ending.
Threads snapping.
Colors shifting.
Woven certainties unraveling.
New finishes.
New tangles.
Time itself freezes under his hand.
Yet the pulse continues.
Uninterrupted.
They cannot stop it.
Nothing can.
An impossibility.
…
Unless?
They change tactics.
Retracing the ripple.
Going back.
And back.
And further still.
To the source.
To the center.
The true center.
Of everything.
They stare.
It is a single knot.
Of two strings.
In the perfect, absolute, center of all that is and ever will be.
Two lines becoming one.
Woven through all that follows.
Reflecting on all that came before.
Incomplete lines and all.
Every branch.
Every path.
Every knot.
Every frayed end.
Every finished completion.
The lines before the knot fade into obscurity.
In only the way a new life could begin.
So few are there so deep into the tapestries.
For two to form.
Simultaneously.
And to merge the way they did.
They must see.
So they do.
They find a boy.
A baby.
But not fully.
No.
Something so simple cannot be as it appears.
Time ripples and billows around the boy.
Displaced.
The right thread in the wrong place.
They conclude.
Yet not quite.
Not perfect.
There's something about the boy.
That doesn't fit.
There's a question unanswered.
But they need to be certain.
They draw closer.
Quietly.
Inconveniently, the boy notices.
Worse, the boy is unaffected by the slowing of time.
The girl moves.
Speaks.
They are...displeased.
The boy's eyes snap to them.
In recognition.
He knows them.
They register the look of grief about the same time they see it.
Unmistakable at this distance.
"You have my blessing," they find themselves stating.
"I do not recall giving my blessing to anyone."
"Another time," the boy answers.
How dare-
"It's gone now," he weeps. "It's all gone."
Oh.
It isn't arrogance.
Grief and the stupidity that is children.
They study the child.
There is the element of other in him.
More than just their mark.
How...quaint.
They lift their hand to touch.
To see.
His power flares.
Pushes back.
The thread unravels.
Ah.
They let go.
Thread snapping back into its little knot.
"I see," they say.
They flex their hand.
Tingling, not unlike an itch, less incessant though it may be, dances across their skin.
"You are wrong about one thing though," they state.
"Time is not an existence that can be erased. Your perspective has simply changed."
"I will be watching."
They return then.
To prepare.
It is only a matter of certain events before they learn of the child.
The path is already steadying.
Stabilizing.
They keep one mirror trained on the ghostling.
After all.
It's not unheard of for one to be touched by death.
But thrice over?
And so entangled in the web?
They will be inconsolable in their anger.
Best they prepare now.
Now that they know.
The ripple continues on.
Barely reaching the edge of the webbing tapestry.
They watch.
