Danny takes to sitting against the wall by the top of the stairs.

It's a spot just out of sight of the main sitting room, close enough to eavesdrop but not so that he might be seen from below. Not that they'll be looking for him—both Vlad and his dad probably assume he's holed up in one of the guest rooms, like Jazz is.

Jack and Vlad have hardly left the great space at the bottom of the stairs. Danny's hesitant to think his dad has left at all, actually; it's Vlad who has paced to and fro between the kitchens and this room, bringing water and snacks that Jack doesn't touch. Since arriving, and setting himself down in one of the armchairs most definitely meant more for decoration than for actually sitting on, Danny's dad has hardly twitched an eyebrow, let alone stood.

He has spoken, though. Jack and Vlad have done a lot of speaking, and Danny, sat at the top of the stairs, ignoring the numbness in his butt and the fuzziness of his thoughts, listens.

"Can you fight for the house?" Vlad asks in a low voice. "I can back you in court."

"No." Jack breathes out heavily. "It's is in her name. She bought it outright with inheritance money, we didn't get a mortgage."

"I can buy you a house," Vlad says, without hesitation.

"You don't need to do that, Vladdie. I have enough of my own to get a small place for a while." There's a shuffling noise. "I'll have to get a job, though. No doubt she'll remove my access to the business. That's hers, too."

"Jack, I am a billionaire—" Vlad starts, but Jack cuts him off.

"No. I don't want pity money," he says harshly, and for a moment, neither of them speak.

"Then you can stay here," Vlad presses, and Jack explodes.

"Stop! I don't need handouts, Vlad!"

"It's not a handout!" he shouts back. With the air still ringing, Vlad pushes on. "But even if it was, think of your children. You might be able to support yourself on fumes, you might be okay with living roughly for a while, but are you okay with that for Jasmine and Daniel?" Silence. "If you won't let me give anything to you, let me give it to them. It can be a present, if you like, from their godfather."

Godfather. Huh. Danny hadn't known that.

"Do you really think Madeline will cut you out of Fentonworks?" Vlad asks then, in a softer tone, clearly changing tracks. "Would she be that cruel?"

Jack snorts. It's not a nice sound. "You know her, Vlad. She can be vindictive as all hell. We both know that my name is only on that company because she married me. She did almost everything herself." He sighs. "I was just… along for the ride. I know how things work, but I'm not an innovator. You and Maddie know the science much better than I do."

It's weird, listening to his dad talk to Vlad. Danny has never been privy to any private conversations between his parents, if they ever had any, and to hear his dad's voice, spoken without the knowledge that a child is nearby, is so strange. The enthusiasm his dad always bore had just been a fact of life, but hearing him now, Danny realizes it was like the voice you talk to your pets in. He's never heard his dad's real, flat speaking tone before.

Or maybe that's just the grief.

Danny hears a short, muffled intake of breath before Jack speaks again. "I just—I wish I could patch things up with her, and we could go along like this never happened. We've had our rough spots before." His voice cracks.

"But you can't," Vlad says, gently. His voice is the softest Danny's ever heard it, and yet the words—not even directed at him—still strike as deadly a blow.

"No, I can't," Jack agrees. He chuckles dryly. "God, what happened, Vladdie? Why is she—" He cuts himself off, breathing in, then out.

"I don't know," Vlad says carefully. "But she made her choice, and you made yours." After a moment, Vlad says, "And, frankly, you made the right choice."

Neither of them speak for a few minutes. Were Danny in a more present state of mind, he might have gotten up and returned to the room Vlad had set him up in. As it is, Danny remains there, unmoving, his brain floating along in a haze only broken when his dad speaks again.

"I'm surprised you took my side," Jack says, and Vlad doesn't say why or of course I would, though Danny might have. He'd been so convinced his dad really didn't see any of Vlad's jealousy and animosity, and yet as he listens now, it's clear Danny had been the one who was naïve. "You still love her, don't you, Vladdie?"

Vlad does not answer the second question. Idly, Danny calls to mind that old theory of his, that Vlad's obsession had become his mother. He wonders if Vlad suspects it, too—if he realizes that obsession does not equal love.

"She is in the wrong," Vlad says, carefully. "As fond as I am of her, I will not condone child neglect."

It's still a punch to hear that phrase, no matter how many times it's been tossed around, bounced between the tongues of his dad and his apparent godfather. They kept it out of the legal proceedings—even his mom agreed to that, though probably more to avoid charges than anything else—but Danny still hears them talk about it. Still hears what his mom said echo in his mind, ravenously devouring his capacity to consider anything else. Danny is alone in his head sat facing the knowledge that his mother would pick her work over her children, static engulfing all the rest.

Danny has not truly trusted his parents for a long time, but Maddie Fenton had still been his mom. She, despite the cold gleam of the sun reflecting off her goggles, and despite the heavy barrels of the weapons she carried, had still been the woman he'd go to when he felt sick, or wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but didn't have the motivation to make it.

Now she can't be. Maddie Fenton is his mother but she can't be his mom, not when he'd come home close to bleeding out after a bad fight with a ghost and Jazz had forced him to go to the hospital. And his dad had come as quick as he could, sat up with him at his bedside, chattered with the doctors and unintentionally made excuses for Danny's fucked up DNA, murmuring things about ectocontamination and not a lasting impact to his health, not knowing a lick about Phantom. And Jazz had called their mom at home, to ask when she'd be coming in. Jazz had put her on speaker, so they could all listen.

"Oh, he'll be fine with your dad there, sweetie. I'm so close to a breakthrough! I'll see you guys when you get home," Danny's mother had said.

His head had already been foggy because of the pain meds, but that's when the real fuzz settled in. He could hear just fine, was taking it all in, could hear questions asked of him and answer them, but something in his chest hung heavier. Apathy clouded his head and bones.

Jazz fought their mother, at that. She'd said, "He's really bad, mom. I think he'd appreciate it if you were here."

Maddie responded, "He's a big boy, Jazz. He can deal with it. I really can't afford the distraction."

"Your son nearly died, mom! Come to the fucking hospital!" Danny has never heard Jazz get so mad, then or since, not even for the stupidest things he's done.

"Jasmine, I will not tolerate that tone. Your brother is fine. I'll see you when you get home." She hung up, then.

She hung up.

It doesn't take long for Danny's dad to speak again, and when he does, it'd break Danny's heart if he were a little less far away. "Am I in the wrong here, too, Vladdie?" Jack's voice cracks. "All this time we've been down in the lab, leaving Jazzy and Danny to themselves—"

"You can't blame yourself, Jack. That wasn't done out of any malice and, regardless of what happened before, you know better now." Vlad's voice is so strangely comforting. His and Danny's relationship has been better lately, but it's still foreign to hear him so truly kind. "In any case, when Daniel was hurt, you stopped working to be with him. Maddie did not."

Danny doesn't blame his dad for being neglectful. It was probably wrong; Jazz definitely thinks so. Danny just can't blame him, though. That's his dad. He loves Danny.

"I love you, buddy," Jack had said, pressing a kiss into Danny's hair.

"Your brother is fine," his mother had said, one month ago when he was in the hospital near-dead from a gash to the stomach.

"What if full custody isn't the right choice? What if I go back to the same habits, Vlad? I don't—" Jack sucks in a shuddering breath before continuing. "I don't want to hurt them."

"Would you rather let them still be in Madeline's care?" Vlad points out. "If nothing else, I will keep you in check, as their godfather."

A month ago, standing by Jack's side, voice turned against Maddie, Vlad's throat had seemed constricted. He'd looked at Danny's mom with this insurmountable grief, betrayal swimming in with it, and every word spoken against her had seemed a struggle to rip from his throat, at least as far as Vlad could struggle.

The man's mask has never been so neat or clean, in the weeks after Jack had asked him for help. Danny knows Vlad well enough by now to know that the more poised be becomes, the more rattled he is inside. His matter-of-fact words, his neat accusations, had been the equivalent of a different person's voice shaking. Of being on the verge of tears.

It's been a month, though, and after Vlad made the choice to support Jack, Danny has slowly been listening to Vlad's throat relax. His obsession on Maddie has been releasing, finger by finger, and the intensity with which he had gazed at her, spoken of her with, is almost gone.

Vlad says "Madeline" like she's a stranger, and he speaks to Jack like a friend. Jazz'll have a field day with how his mind works, whenever she comes out of her room.

At the thought, Danny almost chuckles.