Lullaby

Danny dreams, and the nightmares within threaten to fracture his family.

Danny woke with a start. He rolled over and his hand struck empty sheets. The other side of the bed was empty. Panic seared through his consciousness. Sam was gone. Sam was—Sam was—

Then far off through the darkness, from the end of the hall, he heard her voice:

"Hush little baby, don't say a word,

papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird,"

Every muscle in his body went slack. Danny stared up at the ceiling, gasping, chilled by his own sweat. It had been a dream. Just a dream.

Danny sighed and rolled out of bed. He shuffled down the dark hall, scratching at his bare chest and stifling a yawn. She didn't need him, not really, but the part of him that had been hunting violent monsters for far too many years had to see her before he went back to sleep. Just, you know, to make sure.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing,

mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring,"

He loved the way Sam sang, low and husky and sweet, like the wind through the trees in the park. She stood next to the crib in the nursery, Jasper in her arms. Moonlight edged her silhouette in silver. It caught the white embroidery in her pajama pants and made the spiderwebs glimmer.

Sam swayed in time to the lullaby. As Danny came in, she glanced up and a smile played around her lips.

"And if your dad makes you wake up,

papa's gonna stay till you fall asleep,"

"Hey," Danny protested in an undertone. "Your turn to not sleep tonight, remember?"

A chubby fist flailed and he caught it, rubbing it gently between thumb and forefinger. He looked down at the bunched-up little pink face, topped by a tuft of jet-black hair.

"Here I thought you were coming to rescue me," she murmured back. They had become experts in the art of near-silent conversation. "My hero."

"This hero has to kick ghost butt and still show up for work tomorrow." He kissed her on the top of her head. "You get off maternity leave and then we'll talk about division of labor."

"I did more than my fair share of labor back at the hospital."

Danny snorted. "Next time I'll overshadow you and we can both swear till your mother turns green."

That earned a smirk. "Ah, good times." She lay the baby in the crib; Danny held his breath as she let go, but Jasper was truly asleep this time. Sam sighed in relief and turned to Danny, resting her palms on his bare chest. "Why are you up, grumpy ghost?"

His smile faltered. "I… uh, I wanted to check on you."

"Bad dreams?" Her forehead puckered with worry; this wasn't the first time.

"Yeah."

"Oh Danny," Sam reached up and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. The moonlight drew silver crescents in her purple eyes. She shook her head. "Why can't you ever believe in your own happiness?"

The words struck Danny like a death knell. Sam dissolved away before his eyes. He ran to the crib, but the mattress was bare and empty. A pacifier lay alone in the moonlight. He heard the window crack.

The moon went out. Stars reeled before his eyes. Spidery cracks leapt across his vision, splitting the cosmos. He wasn't home—he wasn't anywhere on Earth, in fact—he'd just been ejected from the spaceship and was hurtling out of control, weightless and helpless, through open space.

Panic sang in Danny's veins. He must have blacked out for a moment— he'd been dreaming of home. A home. A home that had never been, not really. Sam had never forgiven his choice to destroy his ghost self and pursue a space career. A career that was about to end in an icy vacuum.

Earth whirled into sight, a dizzying swath of blue hundreds of miles below. On reflex Danny grasped for the ghost core that was no longer there. The spiderweb cracks on his helmet multiplied. An ominous hiss came from the cracks. He gasped for breath. He was just human—not a ghost—he wouldn't survive if it—

Static roared in his ears like an oncoming wave. The overwhelming emptiness of everything pressed down on him like a thousand pounds. This was it, he thought, and numbness overtook him.

"You'd think a former ghost would be better with micro-gravity." Her voice. Calm, serene, right in his ear. As if Sam was leaning on his shoulder, cheek to cheek, looking at his problems with new eyes like she always did.

"Help—Sam—" His own breath choked him, stale and oxygen-starved.

"Take it off," she ordered. Stern, almost angry.

It took a minute for the meaning to penetrate his panic. "What? But I can't! I'll die!"

"Danny." Fresh mulch and nail polish. Green, growing things and musty old books. Bitter tofu, sweet fruit, tangy hummus. The scents that made up everything he knew about Sam filled his nose and mouth. He could almost feel her hand giving his arm an encouraging squeeze. "You have to let this go, or you'll never escape. Take it off."

With shaking hands, Danny reached up and unclipped the fastener that held his helmet in place. Squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in one last deep breath and yanked it from his head.

A hiss, a rush of air. New, different, completely unexpected sensations assaulted him. The pressurized suit tightened on his wrists and became biting steel. Cold sweat trickled down his bare back, raising goosebumps. There were burning, tugging pricks at his neck and on his arms. Stinging sharp-scented air—not a vacuum, not sterile recycled oxygen, but real atmosphere—swirled up his nose and made him choke and cough. He was standing—no, hanging upright—his shoulders ached from bearing his weight and his hands were numb. His head throbbed.

"Danny!"

He blinked, eyes stinging, but all he could make out was a blur of colors. Black, purple, red, green. Who…? He recognized the feel of the air here; it had that buzz of electric charge, a faint sickly-sweetness somewhere between damp dust and chlorine, a smell that was almost a color. The ghost zone.

The pressure on his wrists wrenched apart with a shriek of twisting metal. Danny toppled. Strong, lean arms caught him and steadied him on his feet. "That's it, baby, I've got you."

"S-sam?" The syllables dragged like ground glass from his throat.

"No." A pause. "No, Danny, it's Val."

"I…" he shook his head to clear it and really looked. Valerie, with her thick, curling hair caught at the nape of her neck and those striking green eyes filled with unshed tears and worry. Valerie in her black and red suit with sparking wires tangled around her feet.

"Where?" he croaked. His voice felt rusty and thick with thirst.

"Nocturne's lair." Her grip tightened on his forearms briefly, then let go. "You were in some kind of dream machine."

Danny believed her, if only because it was the first thing that had made sense so far. He glanced around. "He's gone?"

Valerie ground one fist into the other and gave a vicious smile. "For now at least. He won't be reforming in a hurry."

"How's everyone?"

"Fine. He didn't even touch the town once he'd knocked you out. He just dragged you off here and hooked you up to that damn thing. That's all he wanted—revenge, or whatever. Creep's sure got a grudge against you."

"Who doesn't?" Danny yanked a handful of needles with tubes attached out of his arm. He couldn't find it in himself to be outraged; he didn't feel quite awake, as if this was all a dream that would fade back into reality at any moment.

"Fair point. From now on, you're not allowed to make enemies you can't defeat."

"I'll file that away," he mumbled. He ran a hand over his face; his chin was scratchy with stubble. "How long?"

"Two days." Her eyes glittered with anger. "He was jamming my tracking somehow; that was his one mistake. This was the only place my instruments didn't work."

He nodded.

She stared at him, her anger softening to concern. She seemed to be looking for something in his face; what, he couldn't tell. "Are you alright? Was it… were there dreams in there? Nightmares?"

"Sam," Danny said, looking up at the vast, dusky green sky above them. "I saw Sam." He scrubbed his eyes again to keep from tearing up. "If it was a nightmare, I didn't want to wake up from it." He wished—almost—that she hadn't found him. That the dream had gone on forever.

Danny turned around and looked at the dream machine, a huge blue pod with mysterious wires running from it, its heart all twisted metal and gleaming needles. It crouched on the wall like a spider with too many legs. Some wild notion flitted across his mind—they could fix it. Bring it back. Bring her back.

"Didn't want to wake up?" Valerie echoed. Something dangerous simmered behind her words. "Didn't want to come back to your family?"

He refused to look her in the eyes. "You don't understand—Val, Sam was in there! My Sam."

"She wasn't your Sam! Damnit, Danny! Wake up! This—" Her armored fist punctured the console and she dragged out a fistful of wires. Sparks flew and scudded harmlessly off her shoulder plates. "This is just metal, and plastic, and junk."

Valerie kicked it viciously and the paneling buckled. She whirled on Danny. Red energy crackled over her suit and he shrank back. Her lips trembled with rage. "You know what it's not? Real. I am. You are. Nothing you saw in there."

Danny shook his head, eyes stinging. Valerie didn't understand. He'd smelled her. Touched her. Felt her. How could that not be real?

"I've done my part," Valerie spat. "If you want to stay here with your fantasy and rot, then go ahead." She stalked off toward the speeder. Danny watched her go. He glanced around at the ruined machine, the jagged half-roof overhead, the splashes of oil and stars that were ever so slowly oozing together. Gloom set in. Sam was gone. He followed Valerie.

Valerie maneuvered the speeder through fields of floating doors and ancient debris, eyes fixed on the far horizon, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in that way she did when she was trying hard not to lash out. He'd hurt her, Danny realized with a dull pang of guilt. Of course he had.

"I can't help that I still dream about her," he said, lacing his fingers together in his lap. He stared at the ring on his finger. It was titanium. Valerie had picked it out. Sam preferred white gold.

"I know, Danny. I knew what I'd signed up for. Baggage included."

Green sizzled in his glance as he looked up at her. "Sam's not baggage."

"No, but your fixation on her—over anything, anyone else—clinging to memories over reality—" Valerie bit her lip and steadied the speeder through an eddy of turbulence. When she spoke again it was tight and clipped. "Sorry. That was harsh."

Danny said nothing; it had been harsh. But Valerie was right. Mist sped past in whorls of green. The eerie purple-black stone that made up anything solid in this place cropped up here and there, moving past in a blur. He saw the portal in the distance, a beacon of green winking against the vast shapeless cavity that was the ghost zone.

She touched his knee. The touch sent warmth spreading through his skin, soothing a chill he hadn't realized was there. Her voice softened. "I know in a lot of ways you're still grieving. I can't replace her. I don't want to. I just love you, alright?"

Danny took her hand in both of his and squeezed it. "Let's go home."

Jazz sat at the kitchen table in their apartment, nose in a book, hand on an ectogun that lay on the table. The baby monitor next to her coffee hissed with peaceful white noise. When they came in she stood up, hugged Danny, and left with barely a word. His sister had gotten better at that as the years went on; knowing when to give people space—when silence was more supportive than any questions or unsolicited advice.

Valerie deactivated her suit. Danny realized she was still in a rumpled grey dress, the same one she'd had on when he'd disappeared. The idea warmed Danny and dug the guilt a little deeper at the same time.

"Let's go reassure the gremlin," Valerie said.

He took a deep breath, then nodded and followed.

They went down the hall and into the second bedroom. It was a different hall and a different room than Danny had shared with Sam. He'd moved out two weeks after she'd gone. That place was too full of the wrong kind of ghosts—the empty ones.

This new room was smaller, plainer. Blue walls instead of violet. Valerie didn't have the flair for interior decorating that Sam did, and the room stayed simple: A bed, a dresser, a low play table cluttered with action figures. White curtains that blocked out the light from passing cars.

Jasper always knew when they'd been out working. Maybe it was lingering trauma, or some aspect of the traces of ectoplasm that ran through his veins. In any case, it didn't surprise Danny at all to see two round, wide-open eyes peeping over the end of the bed.

"Hey kiddo, Dad's back," Valerie said brightly. She turned on the lamp by the bed and scooped Jasper up, settling him on her hip. "He's fine, just like I told you. See?"

The boy rubbed at his eyes and examined Danny from head to toe, sleepy but determined to complete the inspection.

"I'm fine," Danny said. He had to work at it, but he managed a smile. Seeing those violet eyes made everything hurt all over again.

"Daddy's tired," Jasper said. He patted Danny's bristly cheek. "Bedtime."

Danny's smile warmed and he took the little boy out of Valerie's arms, folding him in a tight hug. He swung Jasper up so that he squealed with excitement, then swooped him down into the bed.

Jasper pulled the most serious face he could muster. "Bedtime!"

"You first," Danny said, and pulled up the covers. "Then I'll go straight to bed. Deal?"

The boy nodded. When Valerie knelt down to hug him goodnight, Jasper clung to her neck. "Sing, mommy?"

Valerie reached over and flicked off the lamp, then settled on her knees, one arm around the boy in the bed. Shadows crowded in and turned the room into a jumble of soft, familiar shapes.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," she crooned. "Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird..."

If Sam's voice had been like the wind, Valerie's was water, trickling out warm and smooth and filling the room. Danny took another deep breath. No moonlight here, and even if there had been, the curtains were drawn. The night light in the wall silhouetted them in warm gold. Jasper's head drooped onto Valerie's shoulder. He wound a fist into her curls, and soon his mouth dropped open, soft baby snores escaping.

Valerie delicately extracted her hair from the small fingers, tucking a battered spider plushie into the crook of his arm. She smoothed down his messy black hair. It popped back up the second her fingers lifted.

"Like his father's," she said softly.

"Sam's eyes, though." Danny didn't know why he said it. It closed up his throat and made his eyes blur.

Valerie touched his arm. "Yeah. Just like them."

She took him by the hand and led him out of the room. Quietly closing Jasper's door, they went down the hall to the bedroom. She vanished into the bathroom and seconds later the sound of the shower came through the open door.

Danny sank onto the edge of the bed, not even bothering to undress. Sam was gone. He buried his head in his hands and tried to push back the raw, screaming ache of that realization. The dreams had bought it all back, made it fresh.

Sam was gone. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Wetness trickled through his fingers. Damn Nocturne. He'd gotten his payback.

Warm arms wrapped themselves around him. Her freshly washed hair brushed his face, fragrant from the conditioners. Coconut and honeysuckle. Crisp pine and sun-warmed dust. After a while he realized Valerie was humming, swaying him back and forth, the same lullaby she'd sung to his—to their—son.

"Hush now baby, don't say a word…"

- end -

A/N:

I consider this a companion piece to If Atlas Slept, for obvious reasons.

Gracious, this is old. I wrote it two years ago for a Tumblr post - maybe a Phanniemay prompt? In any case, it was high time to add it to my FFn collection. Much thanks to Cordria for reading through this back in the day!

Also thanks everyone for your reviews! I hope you're still enjoying my little oneshot collection. This the last pre-written story I had in mind for this series, but I may add to it in the future as time and inspiration allows.

- Hj