"Mommy! Mommy!"

The urgency and desperation in her only son's voice made Maddie Fenton run full speed up the staircase of FentonWorks, a small ghost blaster at her hip. It didn't help that the steps were covered in various pieces of new inventions, small drips of ectoplasm, and spilled apple juice from Danny's bottle. She would have to remind Jack to clean up the house, she couldn't have the kids, still very young, being exposed to their line of work for too long. She shuddered inwardly, thinking of how sick her children could get if they touched the green goo, let alone ingested it. Maddie already suspected that the apple juice was glowing a bit too much for comfort. Some of the ectoplasm from her husband's, most recently exploded, invention, the "Fenton Ecto-Energy Ejecter" had landed in the puddles. Again, she shuddered, and ran faster up the steps.

"Mommy, hurry up!"

At the top of the staircase, Maddie had to dodge another stray pile of scraps and screws. "Honestly, Jack..." She thought to herself, making her way down the hall to her toddler's bedroom. Now, instead of dangerous weapons and otherworldly substances, there were only books and toys scattering the carpet. Maddie had made sure both her and Jack knew there were absolutely no weapons in the hallway or anywhere in the children's rooms. Her daughter's bedroom door was open, giving Maddie a quick glance into the light purple room as she ran by. Jasmine Fenton, only a few years older than Danny, was lying on her bed. Her orange hair splayed around her head as she held a book above her. Maddie could hear the faint sounds of her daughter humming under her breath.

"Mommy!"

Danny's bedroom was at the end of the hallway. His white door was covered in pictures of rocket ships that he had made her husband print out off of the internet. Danny had colored on some of the cut outs so the sides of the ships said "Captain D Fenton" or "Astronaut Danny" in scribbled black crayon. Maddie swung the door open easily, and aimed her blaster, ready for any ghost that could be threatening her family, or more specifically her baby boy.

Her three-year old son sat in the middle of the room on the floor. Crayons, in all colors of the rainbow, were scattered around him, as well as white paper. His yellow shirt, she noticed, wasn't ripped or torn, but rather the one she had just given him for his birthday. The one that read "Junior Astronaut" on the front of it. Danny had gone on and on for months about wanting to fly beside the stars, so Maddie had talked Jack into getting him the crayons and getting him books on space, while Maddie had given him various shirts and pajama sets that had stars and planets on them. On his third birthday, he had shrieked with joy and tackled the both of them with hugs. He hadn't taken off the shirt, or let the solar system model Jasmine had made him, out of his sight for two weeks.

"Mommy! Come here! Look!"

Danny turned to see her in the doorway, completely oblivious to the fear he should be feeling to see her pointing a ghost weapon around. His smile was wide, and he held up a paper he had been working on. It was Jupiter, or Maddie guessed it was from what she could gather. The orange planet took up much of the white paper, and most of it was scribbled rather than colored neatly, but that made his accomplished grin even more adorable. He had even put a red spot on the planet to show the giant storm. Maddie smiled. There was a rocket ship at the top of the picture, a gray one with white details. Fire spit out of the back. In the rocket's window, a figure with black hair and blue eyes was smiling. "Astronaut Danny" was written on the ship's side.

"Do you like it, Mommy?"

Maddie did indeed, and it hung on the refrigerator for a month, along with other pictures Danny had drawn with his crayons. Danny had gushed over them, telling them all at dinner, and every chance he got, that he would travel to the stars one day, and he would fly his own rocket. For Christmas that year, Maddie had gotten him glow-in-the-dark stars to put on his ceiling, and Jack had gotten him space bed sheets. Danny was their little astronaut.

His pictures ended up tacked to his wall in his bedroom, where Danny could see them anytime he wanted. He used to view them every day, pride on his little face. They didn't leave when he got his first "big boy bed", nor when he had covered other parts of exposed wall with band posters and then had taken those down months later when deemed uncool. No, Danny was through-and-through a young astronaut. Over the years that past, those dreams tacked to the wall never moved.

He could see them now, the messy crayon streaks that ran across the papers. The various colors of oranges, reds, and yellows melded together perfectly, or as perfect you could get for a toddler. It had been years since he had colored those pictures, but they still hung above his desk patiently. The first Jupiter picture had been his favorite. Three-year old Danny had thought he was Da Vinci, at the time, with how beautiful he thought he had done, though looking now, Jupiter looked more like a red football than a spherical alien world. Danny cringed inwardly.

Another sloppy picture was tacked above the Jupiter one. Thick, waxy rings circled Saturn, which was more lemon yellow than delicate gold. There was more detail here though, and a comet soared around the planet, it's fiery tail almost battling with the yellow of Saturn's gas. Humorlessly, Danny thought his Saturn rather resembled a lop-sided lemon. He brushed his white hair out of his eyes.

Above all of his childhood drawings was a final sheet of paper. Danny almost chuckled at the irony of this picture, but decided against it. His side hurt too much now. A white and acid green rocket flew across the paper; the fire spitting from it was supposed to look like it was glowing. In the little crayon window, a young blue-eyed Danny, smiling and flying amongst the stars. Danny remembered debating with himself over if he should put a ghost inside the rocket, so the ghost could teach him how to fly, but decided against it at the time.

"But there was always a ghost in it anyways." He thought now, bitterly. He looked down at his suit. He had peeled it off of himself, so it clung to his hips. Danny never liked looking at his skin closely, especially his torso, but tonight he had no choice. He was too badly damaged to make it to Sam's, and his sister was out tonight with friends. He'd have to manage himself. Acid green ectoplasm poured steadily out of several gashes across his stomach, staining his bed sheets, and he grew nauseous from the way it covered his hands. It was slippery and it smelled.

Rolls of gauze sat, waiting for use, on his covers. The pure white wrappings almost taunted him. He knew they'd be stained green, and eventually red, in a matter of minutes. It almost made him want to gag. His skin had been sliced open. Danny felt sick, taking several deep breathes before starting to wrap his flayed skin carefully and very slow. Silently, Danny thought of Skulker, who had been battling him only ten minutes before. His blades were improved, and Danny had been caught off guard with the new equipment. It almost resembled a fishing hook, but split at the end into five razor-sharp blades. Skulker hadn't even taunted him before shredding his insides with the weapon. Danny remembered sucking the hunter into the Fenton Thermos before falling to the ground. He had had to walk most of the way home. Ectoplasm made a trail all the way to the street below his window. He'd flown only up to the sill before losing flight and pulling himself up. He had to crawl to across his bedroom to get his supplies from his desk drawer, and crawl back to his bed.

The wrappings didn't take as long as he'd previously thought, but the young ghost boy did have to stop a couple of times to gather his thoughts and hold in his dinner. He had to piece a few pieces of his skin back together, and had almost gagged as he did. Skulker wasn't going to be released from his prison for a while, Danny decided. He placed tape over the final piece of gauze. With a sigh, he washed off his hands and changed his bed coverings. He always kept spare in the closet. Finally, he could lie in his bed. He could relax and just breathe and be Danny. Not Fenton or Phantom. Just Danny.

Somehow, his eyes wandered over to his desk. They were still neon green, he noted, as his white locks fell into his face and tickled his nose. Danny couldn't find himself to care, though, as he sat up. His wounds would hurt more in his human form anyways. His shredded suit hung limply off his frame. Shakily, he walked across the room. The crayon drawings...his simple crayon dreams. He had been so young then. He stared at the football that was supposed to be Jupiter, or the lemon Saturn, and the white and green rocket. "Astronaut Danny".

He took one finger, running it over the gauze on his stomach. Ectoplasm was already bleeding through, though slowly; his healing ability was kicking in. Danny looked to his right hand. His index finger had a green sheen over it. It glowed softly. He poked the rocket drawing twice. "There had always been a ghost in it." He thought.

The little crayon astronaut's eyes now glowed back at his.