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“Someone once told me you can bring a person back to life just by remembering them,” Tucker said, laying down a single white lily.
Sam laid a delicately painted rock next to it. “…I know if you name a child after someone you’ve lost, their spirit can live on that way.”
He looked down at the grave, the one that had his best friend’s name. “I don’t know if I can do that. It would feel too much like I’m trying to… I don’t know. Replace him.”
A hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” Sam said. “I can do it for both of us.”
“What?” Tucker chuckled a little. “You’re gonna name two kids Danny?”
“I’ll have twins, Danny and Dani. He’ll understand.” She kept her face completely serious, but Tucker could hear the humor in her words.
He bit his lip to try and hold back some of the grief that was knotted up in his chest. He missed this. Joking around at each other’s expense. It was nice to know that he hadn’t lost it entirely. That it would just be different now, every jape more of a memorial, and every laugh touched with grief and melancholy memories.
Sam must have noticed how his expression crumpled, because the next thing he knew she was tugging him in close and rubbing his back. He pressed his face against her shoulder, leaning down just slightly since they shared the same height.
The rhythm of her hand scratching lightly at his back was pleasant and allowed him to just breath everything in and slowly breath it out. It was a nice distraction.
Slowly his thoughts started to unspool themselves, the blame and guilt that had been so heavy was still weighing down his heart, but it wouldn’t bring his friend back. Nothing could.
That wasn’t how the world worked, the only real way for Danny to be here was to keep him in their memories.
Tucker wrapped his arms around Sam and started to cry.
It was so early, far too early to say goodbye.
Sam knew how to grieve.
She’d been taught her entire life how to grieve, the importance of it. The ugly part, the covered mirrors, the prayers you were responsible for. It didn’t quite fit right in this case though. Everything felt wrong and scattered like someone had dropped a perfectly fine stained glass and lost some of the pieces.
The family were always hit the hardest, were given time to grieve while everyone else took care of them. That’s how it worked, and Sam found herself cooking whenever she was caught up in her own mourning, in the weight of her own loss and guilt.
But when she brought the food over, to give to the Fentons…
Jazz was always the one to answer the door.
She looked terrible, her hair tangled in knots, greasy, and hanging in her face without her usual hairband. Her clothes didn’t smell very good either, like she’d been wearing them all week. But they were black and conservative and made her look even more pale than the lack of sun had already managed.
“Sam?” she looked a little lost, “What are you doing here? Danny…”
Watching her break down hurt, and Sam stepped inside to set the food down and comfort her. This she knew how to do at least. Jazz sobbed until her tears ran dry again and she was able to talk. Sam explained that she made food for the family, because she didn’t think they should have to cook while they were grieving.
That it was dangerous.
Jazz’s face did something strange and she chuckled humorlessly. “They…” she trailed off.
“They?” Sam encouraged.
“They’ve been in the lab. Trying to get it right this time.”
Oh. Sam felt her world tilt, just a little. It was wrong, the thought in the back of her mind that she was grieving---hurting---more than the parents of the lost. That wasn’t right. They were probably grieving in their own way.
That was it.
Maybe they just needed the distraction.
It wasn’t a healthy way to grieve, to stay in denial as long as you could, but everyone grieved differently and Sam would not let herself judge anyone for how they tried to make it through.
She got up and dug around in the cabinets a bit, to find the plates and forks and poured a little bit of the kosher wine she had brought into a glass. Enough for a small prayer, but not enough to numb the grief alone. That wasn’t the goal.
“You really don’t have to,” Jazz tried to say, as Sam put some of the food on the plate in front of her.
“I do.”
They ate in mostly silence until Jazz pushed her plate away and explained she couldn’t eat anymore. Sam nodded and put the food away in the fridge. Luckily, she’d made something that would keep well and be easily reheated. She had a feeling appetites wouldn’t be quite as large.
Maybe next time she could bring something sweet, that always helped a little.
“You…” Jazz was still watching her; her red rimmed and swollen eyes were fuzzy with confusion. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” Sam said.
She walked over and helped Jazz stand up. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? It’ll be like a little spa day, just for the two of us.”
Jazz let her lead them upstairs, to the shared bathroom that her and Danny used to use. It didn’t look like any of his things had been cleaned out yet, which made sense. Danny had always complained his sister was neurotic, but Sam suspected she was sentimental too.
It was a little awkward helping her undress, but they were both girls and had seen each other in the locker room showers at school enough that they were able to move past it. Sam started the water in the tub and let it drain until it was warm and set the plug.
Leading Jazz into the tub was also a bit awkward, she was all long limbs and hair and Sam had to catch her when she slipped because she wasn’t really paying attention where she stepped.
“Sorry,” Jazz said, properly sitting in the tub while Sam was kneeling outside and equally soaked. “I’m not… really all here right now.”
Sam started smelling the soaps. One smelled more like Danny than the rest and she decided to use that first, pouring it like a bubble bath under the tap as it ran. “It’s okay, that’s why I’m here.”
There were a few things she still needed to make this work. For now, she cupped the water in her hands and poured just a tiny bit of water on the crown of Jazz’s head so she could start massaging in the shampoo.
When it started to get near her eyes, Sam quickly grabbed a dry washcloth and pressed it gently to Jazz’s closed eyes. “Here, hold this.”
She did as instructed, and Sam went to work scrubbing in the shampoo. Jazz’s hair was tangled and dirty enough that she ended up using it almost all the way to the roots.
Once it came time to rinse it out Sam had to dry off her hands and run really quick to grab a cup from downstairs. She managed to get back in record time, Jazz hadn’t even taken off the washcloth from her eyes.
“Okay, tilt your head back like this real quick?” she said, gently moving Jazz’s head until she could start pouring water with the cup to rinse out her hair.
She did the whole process two more times until she was confident all the dirt and grime had been stripped away and then started massaging conditioner into the long tresses. Neither she nor Jazz spoke much, Sam focused entirely on her task and Jazz likely still processing her grief, but it was a comfortable enough silence.
Sam helped scrub her back and arms while Jazz insisted on doing the rest and once they were done, Sam used the cup and fresh warm water from the tap to rinse off the soap and conditioner. Then she helped her step out of the tub, wrapped her with a towel and began brushing and blow-drying her hair.
This too was done in silence, as Sam carefully styled it before putting it in a braid so that Jazz wouldn’t have to worry about caring for it herself and it wouldn’t get back into the same state it had been in before.
“Thank you,” Jazz said, softly.
Sam just nodded. “Do you think you can eat a bit more now?”
“Yeah…maybe.”
“Okay, lets get you dressed then.”
Jazz didn’t have a lot of black clothes, which was probably why she was wearing the same dress all week, but Sam had been goth long enough that she was able to scrape something together that worked, even if it wasn’t particularly stylish and the blacks weren’t all matching.
Then she led her back downstairs to eat again, and the two of them ignored the sounds of building and construction coming from the basement.
Sam spent her days going through the motions, checking on Jazz and Tucker, making food, going to Schul more than she ever had before.
Her grandmother was a life saver, keeping her from falling apart entirely. Even as Sam tore every piece of clothing she owned, and started painting flowers on rocks and leaving them behind for every trip she took to the graveyard.
The worst part was how it was all her fault. She was the one that convinced Danny to step inside a dangerous malfunctioning machine because she wanted to take a picture for her stupid new hobby. Just because she was told it didn’t work, she should have known that didn’t mean it didn’t have electricity provided to it.
She could still smell it.
If she wasn’t already vegan, that honestly would have clinched the deal.
Sam kept herself busy, careful to make sure she didn’t show too much grief.
She didn’t deserve it, after all.
Maddie Fenton was determined. She was going to get this right, she had to.
What were Ghosts if not dead people right? Sure, she mostly believed they were an impression of vague consciousness left behind in highly emotional situations and imprinted into ecto-plasm… But even then.
Even then there might be something of him left behind. Just a moment, or a thought. Her little boy couldn’t just be gone.
If they could break through, make it to the other side where ghosts formed, she’d get to see him again. Could find what’s left of him and tell him she’s sorry.
She’s so sorry she wasn’t there, that she didn’t make it safe, that everything went wrong in that one cursed moment.
There was no time to eat or drink or worry about sleep.
Her little boy was waiting for her.
Jack didn’t sleep much anymore.
Jack didn’t think much anymore.
Jack didn’t do much anymore.
He woke up when Maddie did and followed her into the lab. He made sure she used proper PPE despite how much of a hurry she was always in. He helped her work on the broken portal, because that’s all she did. When she eventually passed out from exhaustion, or looked like she was getting close, he took her upstairs to either shower or straight to bed and then went back down to the basement to make sure everything was put away and the door was locked.
Between trips to help his wife he installed a power switch with a lock code that would make it impossible for anyone to turn on anything in the lab without the code.
Everyday was the same. He rarely had time to cook, but somehow there was always food upstairs in the fridge if he could get Maddie to eat it. Jazz must have been making food for them. He wanted to make sure she was going to be safe.
Nothing ever changed, and Jack was getting worn down.
There was no way he could stop though, someone needed to watch over his wife as she worked, and she was too distracted to pay attention to things like safety and lock out tag out systems even as Jack began to implement them everywhere.
He was determined to keep his family safe.
Even if he was too late.
Jazz started packing once she could bring herself to move without falling apart.
She’d been putting it off for Danny’s sake, careful to make sure she’d be around long enough that he could learn how to take care of himself through high school since the parents…
It took longer than it should have. Too many things hurt to take. It was tempting to only pack dark and black clothing, but she knew that was unrealistic. And unhealthy. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life grieving (She would spend the rest of her life grieving.)
Danny wouldn’t want that for her.
There was a fine balance between grabbing mementos of her brother, little things like trinkets and pictures she could store away for when she wanted to look back and remember him, and day to day things she had to use that reminded her too much of him.
If she wanted to dry her hair, she couldn’t be breaking down into tears.
She wiped at her cheeks roughly.
Honestly, she’d already finished high school. Her parents didn’t know, of course, because she’d kept it secret as best she could. She’d been taking college combination classes at the school and telling the teachers she really did want to wait for her actual graduation date since it was “Just a year away.”
But she couldn’t stay here that long.
Not here in this house.
Not here with her parents.
She was far too angry, far too bitter.
Jazz would call the school and let them know she would finish her classes through the actual college—she’d already been accepted after all—and that she was sorry but due to personal reasons she would not be able to continue the tutoring position she had to fill out the rest of her school days.
They’d give her the diploma since she already earned it. Then she wouldn’t have anything tying her down here. She could start moving forward into her studies and get her medical degree, go into the field of brain surgery. The field she’d always been interested in but was debating giving up for psychology to try and help…
Yeah. That’s what she would do.
Sam found her packing. Jazz hadn’t been locking the front door, Sam was the only one who ever visited anymore and Jazz’s memory was spotty these days.
“Leaving?” she asked, setting a plate of plain cookies on Jazz’s dresser.
Jazz stopped, hands bunching the shirt she was holding. “I…can’t stay here.”
There was a soft frown on Sam’s face. “Do you have anywhere to go?”
She shook her head. She’d been trying not to think about it honestly. College wouldn’t even start really until the next semester in the fall, which was almost a year away itself. She couldn’t stay here, but did she really want to just lock herself in an empty apartment in a new city and waste away?
“Okay, I’ve got space at my place.”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t.” Sam walked over and took the shirt from her hands. She smoothed it out and folded it gently to fit into the gaudy pink suitcase. “And I miss him too.”
Jazz broke down crying again, Sam once more comforting her gently; a hand on her back and a soft shushing and humming soothing her mind.
In the end she did go with Sam. She hadn’t been lying about having space, and adjusting to the sheer scale of her house was a new adventure all its own that helped Jazz distract herself and adjust. It was different enough, with a familiar face. She really was grateful.
She didn’t end up sending the email. Instead she requested to finish her classes on schedule, but remotely. She even continued tutoring, but at the library instead of at the school.
Tucker still visited Sam a lot, which was nice too, knowing that his best friends were still close. That they hadn’t fallen apart due to all of this.
Jazz learned a lot about Jewish mourning rituals as well. Adding small tears to the ribbons on her dress was cathartic, and she enjoyed the melody of the prayers Sam would sing softly to herself every day.
It was okay. She still hurt, but she moved forward.
That was how grief worked, it hurt but you moved on anyways.
So they did.