phango19: we go around, one foot nailed down
\o/ 30th DP fic and it’s the infamous dissection trope \o/
(you know I had to do it to ‘em)
Legit though, I’ve been wanting to write a DP dissection fic since, jeez, since I joined the fandom in ‘13 probably. It’s practically a rite of passage to have one of these under your belt, isn’t it? So here’s me, giving you the gift of Danny Having a Bad Time.
There’ll be some notes about the research I did for this one for the curious at the end, but apologies to anyone with an ounce of scientific know-how. I almost failed high school chemistry and that was something like 12 years ago. I am but a simple idiot with Internet access. Please call me out if there’s something egregious in need of correction; otherwise… blame it on ghostly handwavium?
Title comes from TOOL’s “Pneuma.”
It had been agony, at first. But like anything he’s ever set his mind to, it’s gotten easier with practice.
He’s had plenty of opportunities to practice.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could quit the whole ugly business right this moment. Burn every file, lock the lab up for good, and pray for no more nightmares. But this ugly business needs doing and he’s the only one for it. He can’t allow Maddie to shoulder any more of this burden than she’s already insisted on. He won’t let those white-suited bastards lay so much as a finger on his family either, not while he’s got any say in it. There’ll be hell to pay for going toe-to-toe with the GIW, but that’s fine. He doesn’t care what happens to him anymore, so long as Maddie and Jazz are kept clean of all consequences.
If his luck holds out the courts will be hashing it all out for a while yet anyway. He’s never had a head for fine print or subtlety, nor doing anything so morally gray as—well. Everything lately. What should be done is clear as day to him, but if the courts agreed that easily with the GIW he wouldn’t have a chance to make up for what he’s done.
He needs to do that much.
The courts and those bastards will eventually agree he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, regardless of blood relation or his wealth of experience in an incredibly niche field. Sooner than later those bastards will come, and when they do there’s only so much protest and fighting spirit they’ll indulge in. That’s a fight he’ll lose once it comes, but in the meantime those bastards and all their clever little monitoring devices can’t come within 300 feet of Fenton Works without causing an uproar.
He has to take advantage of the time they have left.
This evening the house is empty, just him and—
Maddie’s out there fighting the good fight, Jazz and Sam and Tucker at her side. The three of them have got more experience than Maddie and him ever realized. They’ll be just fine. They’ll handle whatever toothy specter is out there terrorizing the good people of Amity Park and make sure nothing gets in the way of his work. He needs the peace and quiet. No distractions. He needs to do this by the book.
Working by the book isn’t a habit he’s ever had to cultivate, not with Maddie there to shore up his madcap inventions with reams of reproducible data and neatly labeled blueprints, all hard copies done in triplicate and the digital files regularly updated to a secure server off-site. You can’t ever be too cautious when you’re putting pseudoscience to the test and winning, Maddie always said with a grin, and he’d kissed her every time for being so much more brilliant and beautiful than he deserved. What would he do without her? How far could he have gotten without her? Would Danny still be—
Best to banish that train of thought before it can run him down. No distractions. No what-ifs, no maybes. Not if he wants to make up for what’s happened. What they’ve done. What he’s done. This one’s all on him, no matter how Maddie tries to tell him otherwise. Either he fixes this or—
There is no ‘or,’ is there?
He presses the record button on the Jack Fenton-improved observation rig. Blinking red lights and a momentary whine of feedback means he’s good to go. “Nov—”
Too hoarse. Clarity and enunciation are key here. Slow and steady. He’s got to do this right, each and every time. He clears his throat and begins again.
