Danny Phantom Fan Fiction ❯ Photo Opportunities ❯ Scars ( Chapter 5 )

Danny groaned, splashing water on his face in a futile attempt to pacify the microscopic construction workers hammering down on his brain. The nurse coughed lightly from her position near the door and he quickly wiped the water from his eyes with his forearm before sending her an assuring smile.

 

“It's okay; I was just a little exhausted is all.” He said and she nodded.

 

“Your parents are on a call just outside city limits,” she informed him, “they'll be here in an hour or so, so go get your things. When you get home, go straight to bed. No games, no TV, no reading, and no homework. I'll give your teachers a note to excuse you until tomorrow.” She seemed to struggle against herself, then added. “Dash came by to check up on you, I sent him away but he said he'd stop again next period. I'll give the note to him.” She studied Danny's reactions suspiciously, and he was careful to keep his face neutrally oblivious as he watched her back in the mirror.

 

Had it been someone else he would have had no problem showing the grimace he squashed down at hearing the jocks name, but the nurse had gotten it in her head that Dash was dangerously abusive, and since he had woken to her reading a copy of the paper she probably figured him some kind of rapist now too.

 

She turned to leave the small health office's bathroom but stopped. “Paulina stopped by when you were asleep as well,” this time Danny did show his surprise, “to remind you of the shopping date. Don't go if you're not up to it, they can be very energetic when at the store, and Mr. Baxter will be there with them.” She almost curled her lip at the name.

 

Danny thanked her, reassuring her once again that he was simply tired and Dash had absolutely nothing to do with it. Though he highly doubted she wouldn't bring it to the principal or Lancer's attention, and they would probably all end up here again tomorrow for more analysis.

 

This time with his parents, and maybe Dash's, and they'd probably bring up the gossip in the paper, and who knew else. And what were Sam and Tucker's parents going to do when they got wind of the rumor?

 

Gad damn it all.

 

~*~*~

 

There was nothing more absolutely unnecessary in Dash's life right now then basketball. Sure, maybe football would have had a slight hold on his schedule even with the Danny Phantom thing, but basketball had always been a filler sport, something to do when he wasn't doing anything anymore, and gradually had become a fun pastime.

 

It was as Lancer told him in freshman year when he talked about joining the team, Basketball may be a great `sport', but football was a lifestyle. However, having to play the game in gym with a bunch of idiots who couldn't remember the rules, it annoyed him.

 

It didn't help that during the game Dash's teacher and classmates were giving him appraising looks, totally non subtle appraising looks. As though now that a newspaper article, in the gossip column, said he was gay he'd suddenly wear rainbow rubber wristbands and have a lisp and dye his hair unnatural colors, like blue or flamingo pink, though he had seriously considering going brunette for a while junior year, Paulina and Star said brunettes were sexier after all.

 

He wasn't so agitated about the looks, he'd be giving them too if he had read something about his teammate that surprised him, it was the thought of Danny Fenton, the towns god damned hero, lying on some stiff cot in the infirmary that tweaked at his nerves. He had tried to visit again after math, but the busty nurse, whose first name was probably Olga or something like that, had given him the evil eye and shooed him away. Saying something about stopping by after school to deliver something.

 

Dash knew school nurses, like science, math, and music teachers, didn't particularly like jocks. He wasn't really surprised to be turned away, when the popular, successful, and rich sports players got hurt they were sent to their private doctors and massage therapists, not to some underpaid school nurse. Not to mention he had sent his own fair share of losers to her door throughout the year.

 

But just because he expected it, in some disconnected portion of his mind, that didn't mean he couldn't be pissed about it. His hero and ward was laying, looking for all the world like he was unconscious when he had glimpsed him through the entranceway during passing period, in that cold room without anyone in there to keep him company but an overbearing burly nurse with a voice like a little too much sugar in the coffee.

 

“Baxter, get your head out of your ass and get back to work!” Mrs. Tetslaff shouted and he almost tripped over his own feet, startled out of his thoughts.

 

Shaking his head he focused on gym. He couldn't keep worrying about Fenton like this, he's a big kid, or rather a scrawny kid, but he could take care of himself and had been doing so for the past, what four years? Longer? When did Danny Phantom first start to show up? Whatever, he had his own problems to worry about, and his own burly woman to be weary of.

 

“Baxter!”

 

The yell rattled his brain, shaking out all the loose parts and focusing him perfectly on what he was supposed to do.

 

The last thing he should be doing was basketball, but it was the only thing he had left that he could get lost in.

 

~*~*~

 

Danny knew he had promised that he would go straight to bed, and that was exactly what he had meant to do, exactly what he had wanted to do, as he practically crawled up the stairs to his room. But somewhere between stripping down to his boxers, because sleeping in his jeans made him uncomfortable, and actually reaching the bed he made the unfortunate decision to look down.

 

And now he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror contemplating the horrific changes happening to his body. A deep breath, then another, god he had seen moldy black bananas that looked healthier. He was a walking lattice of discolorations, slashes of black and angry red with just the barest hint of green edging around it all like an ectoplasmic glow. It reached down his torso, where the original smattering of bruises had formed, and dipped low around his waistband, hovering there as though afraid to delve deeper, or had yet to have the time, then streached up across his chest towards his shoulders and down his arms like thick veins of pollution until it brushed the tips of his fingers, thin little wisps of black lines looking for all the world like felt-tip pen tattoos done in usual teenage boredom. The only hint of purple left on his body was the welt that had come from the crashing blow of the projectile, and that had become brighter and more disturbing with the rest of his body, like some jewel in the center of his being.

 

Before long, he'd be darker than Othello.

 

Danny felt the scratching thought at the back of his mind, like a dog begging to be let in, that he had some strange ghostly version of gangrene, but discarded the thought. This was something far different.

 

He had lied to Dash and his friends when he had told them all it didn't hurt, it did, horribly, but not at all like a bruise. Danny couldn't quite explain it, he had always had a high pain tolerance, what with ghost fighting and bullying and just basic accidents that happened around the lab, but this pushed his limits. He flexed his hands and felt the sharp prickles of pain shoot up through his arm to grip at his chest.

 

Removing his boxers Danny saw that the discolorations would no doubt take the same route as his shoulders, stretching down his legs along the upper lines of his bones and spreading out from there, the thought disturbed him and he quickly grabbed a robe, covering himself from his own searching eyes.

 

Grimacing he walked over to the tub, plugged up the drain, and turned on the tap at its highest point of heat. He made an attempt at shouting down to his parents that he was getting in the bath, but all that came out was a hoarse gurgle.

 

Fear and fatigue had clogged his throat.

 

Knowing that they would hear the water running and come to their own conclusions he turned his attention back to himself. It was so easy these days, transforming, like going intangible and reaching into his locker, he barely had to think about it anymore, sometimes not at all, and it would happen. So when he shed the bathrobe, not wanting it to go through one of the very awesome, but slightly annoying, changes clothes and various other apparatus went through when he transformed while connected to it, it was satisfying to see his bare feet already clad in squeaky, white rubber boots before it even touched to the floor.

 

When the tub was full, and the steam was sure to last a long enough time to give the right impression, he dropped a bar of soap into the water to give off the `bathing smell' and sailed through the roof.

 

The pain in his body flared whenever he moved, and the dizzy feeling he had hanging over him since Dash first realized how to release him from the Thermos that morning kept sweeping down and clouding his mind, but all that for him just seemed like a typical day.

 

Which could pretty much mean he wouldn't live past his thirties if this kind of stress was viewed as normal for him, just as well he didn't mind so much as long as no one attacked while he was this messed up inside.

 

Actually, Danny stopped and hovered above the city, crossing his arms, brow furrowed in thought, up until a few days ago ghosts cropped up like usual, a few stray one-timers not yet expunged from their usual haunts, a couple ghost-zone escapees whose names and faces he actually bothered to remember, if mispronounced and/or mixed up, and the occasional actual big battle with people, err ghosts, like Skulker, or Ember, or someone equally challenging, but still as uselessly time consuming.

 

Lately it seemed, if he could get away with one more cliché in his superhero career, a little too quiet.

 

Other then the shambling legions of the unruly, nobody seemed at all interested in destroying him, or capturing him, or tearing him limb from limb, aside from his parents of course, or even taking over the planet, well Amity Park at least.

 

“Wonder what everyone's up to.” He questioned aloud, scanning the bustling streets of his town. “Guess I could always go check up on things in the Ghost Zone, but it's not like it's all that uncommon for them to take a few days off.”

 

It was true, after a few good battles, usually something big that either saved ghoul butt, or pretty much pummeled everyone's collective ghostly morale, many of the bigger, badder, and more frequent ghosts took a bit of time for planning, forming alliances, creating new techniques, or just relaxed. Leaving him with nothing but small fry down at the docs, and the Box Ghost, to deal with.

 

Yet even the annoyances that were harbor warehouse hauntings, and the Box Ghost, were nowhere to be found. Danny, in all his years of ghost fighting, had never had such a long period of rest. There had always been some kind of nameless blob of ectoplasm wreaking havoc somewhere, but not here.

 

Not for almost four days.

 

Just those rotting specters and their creepy appearances, and they only came up twice, and only the first encounter could accurately be deemed hostile, not that he didn't file scaring the afterlife out of him under reason to kick ass. Because he totally did.

 

And that dream. The ghost in the restaurant had born such a strong resemblance to the boy in his dream, to him in his dream. Had they somehow synced up and he experienced the ghost's death? It would explain things, and the ghost might not feel hostile towards him anymore, if they had felt hostile towards him in the first place.

 

Hi shoulders slumped. He was far too tired to bother thinking about all this alone, he would just have to wait until Sam and Tucker, and unfortunately Dash, to come over after school so they could put their heads together and figure out the mess. He wouldn't show them the marks though, that would just worry them and he'd have to listen to Sam mothering him and Tucker being all uncomfortable and concerned, and needless to say Dash would throw a bitching.

 

No, he could not handle Dash's fan-boyish level of concern right now when he had strategizing to do.

 

He looked down at his gloved hand, clenching it into a tight fist level with his clavicle, feeling the searing pain rush up and embrace his heart in hot fire. He could almost picture the lines striking through his hand, pulsing with dark energy like some anime-like affliction. With a sigh he let his hand fall back to his side and began drifted off in the direction of the docks. He could always try to check out some of the warehouses and catch up on the local ghostly gossip.

 

Translating of course into beating the crap out of some spirits until they coughed up answers as to why it was so quiet.

 

~*~*~

 

Dash and Sam sat opposite each other in fifth period, eyes locked, fiery determination raging within the sockets turning irises to bright embers and furrowing brows down in deep concentration. The tension had been bubbling up for the majority of the class time, the teens having been sending furtive glances filled with purpose towards each other with the unmistakable message woven between the casual lock of eyes. `There would be no mercy.'

 

Tucker glanced nervously between the two, eyes darting back and forth in worry and apprehension. He had expected it to get a bit competitive between them; it was after all their very nature to fight one another even before being thrust into this situation, but this clash of wills went beyond even his calculations.

 

It seemed everyone in the room was waiting for the next move.

 

“Three of hearts?”

 

“Go fish.”

 

“Damnit!” And the tension dissipated.

 

Tucker let out a sigh as the move was switched to the next person in their group, Lester, who never did get the whole idea of Super Go Fish.

 

“Got any aces Tucker?”

 

“Ace of what?” he asked. Tucker had all four types of aces in his hand at the moment and knew from the previous circles that Lester only had an ace of spades, Dash had the ace of hearts and of clubs, and the ace of diamonds was still in the deck, but he still felt the pricking need to ask the question.

 

“Why do I have to say what ace it is? Shouldn't they all work the same?” The small group groaned once again, they had explained this to him five times already.

 

Website Design fifth period had to be the most lax, restive time of the school day, not because it was an easy class, but because the period was filled with tech geeks and popular kids, all of whom already had personal websites and learned how to operate Dreamweaver early on, and as such finished the textbook, if you could call it a textbook, before the second semester had even started.

 

Problem was the school district network filtered out big bandwidth eaters. So MySpace, Gaia, Hi5, YouTube, and other such teenage necessities were inaccessible to the populace. Unless the teacher had some wild hair up his ass or the principal or some evaluator came in, the period was mostly passed with fifteen students, give or take depending if the slacker dropout wannabes attended, finding some way to relieve the boredom.

 

Thus why Mikey, Lester, Tucker, Dash, Sam, Paulina, and Ashley all sat in a circle on the big square meeting table with the combination of two decks of cards between them, a considerable change from the rounds of solitaire they were used to doing at their respective computers.

 

“Super Go Fish means you have to have the exact copy of the card Lester.” Paulina answered in an annoyed tone, even she knew how to play this game.

 

“But why?”

 

“Because it makes it more interesting.”

 

“Why make it more interesting? Its Go Fish, it's meant to not be interesting.”

 

He had a point, but when you have almost a complete hour of nothing to do but stare at your desktop and listen to a playlist, making even a boring game of Go Fish between classmates a slight bit more entertaining was welcome.

 

“Just say what ace you have!” Sam snapped and Lester asked for his ace, Tucker gave it to him, Lester then asked Paulina for a card she didn't have, drew from the deck, and then Tucker proceeded to ask Dash for his ace of hearts, which Dash grudgingly handed over, and the game continued on from there.

 

Fifth period was the most lax and restive period of the day, but god was it boring.

 

~*~*~

 

The dock`s warehouses were strangely deserted, even for early afternoon.

 

Not deserted of citizens, there were plenty of those meandering about doing various odd jobs only people who worked down at the docks really understood; rather it was completely devoid of all ghostly presence. Which, in Amity Park the most haunted city in the United States, if not the whole flippin world, said quite a bit.

 

He slipped in and out of the warehouses quickly, only staying inside long enough for a quick glance through and a chance for his ghost sense to react. Nobody bothered to stop him, even when they did catch a glimpse of him zipping through the walls; they were well used to him at the shipping yards. In fact it was probably the most popular place for him, second only to Casper High itself but since that was just full of teenage fans it really didn't count. With all the ghostly activity at this place it was hard to get work done, Danny Phantom had always been welcome to come down once or twice a week to straighten things out and apprehend some of the spiritual populace. Not all of course, there were some permitted ghosts, like ghosts who prevented drowning and who led ships to safety on stormy nights, all that clichéd yet hilariously true seamen stories.

 

After giving a thorough, and time consuming, check of some of the more popular ghostly hangouts in the vicinity Danny admitted defeat, swallowed his pride, and headed down to the break area, not a designated sector for breaks, but rather a place where the workers simply congregated.

 

It was actually just an old lot where a moldy warehouse once stood but was torn down when the roof collapsed, they had never rebuilt it and as such there was this big vacant lot stacked with empty miscellaneous crates, equipment, and other such nonsense. It was always loud and playful, especially on a nice day when people were well past their early morning grumblings and far from their late afternoon exhaustion.

 

A couple guys called out to him when he landed, ghostly tail splitting and taking the shape of two long legs and squeaky white rubber boots in a minor flash of dark light, and he waved to them in response, heading in they're direction.

 

“Anything lately?” he asked casually, proud that the worry and weariness didn't invade his voice.

 

“Naw actually, not a spook. Strange, even that overall fella been missin.”

 

“BoxGhost too? That's strange.” Danny ran and hand through his hair. “When did everything quiet down?”

 

“Friday night, the big storm was the last we saw a any of them,” another man said

 

“Ol Jan usually hangs around the Pioneer those rainy nights, “replied the first, “but when we went up ta greet her she weren't there.” The burly man jutted a finger out to the old boat dragged up onto the roof of a big warehouse. The Pioneer was a sunken wreck that had surfaced one rainy night bringing with it the ghost of an old fisherman's wife. She didn't do anything really, harm or good, but just hung around her boat every now and then and scoffed at the workers. The guys had taken a liking to her after a while, said she was like a stubborn old boat, Danny never did get the metaphor.

 

She was borderline repeat ghost though, always doing the same thing over and over again. Danny had met a few of them these past few years. Ghosts who were stuck in the moment of their death, never doing anything different or seeing the world around them. Always chased by the memory. Danny hated encountering them, because the thought of being stuck in a reoccurring loop year after year. It troubled him.

 

Jan however, she had broken the loop when her boat had been disturbed, she still did the same habitual movements but they weren't like what he had witnessed before, and she always paused whatever she was doing to talk.

 

It gave him hope for the others.

 

“Yeah, Jan doesn't constantly show herself these days, but she's always around on rainy nights, gets real edgy.” There was a crowd now, everybody talking about the strange disappearance of ghosts. “But she wasn't there.”

 

“All `dem other ones who get riled during the showers weren't causing nothing either.”

 

“Every crack was calm and quiet.”

 

“Even that weird one with the crates.”

 

“Yeah, and we just got some new ones too, surprised me he wasn't looming.”

 

The Box Ghost missed the new shipment? Something wasn't right.

 

As much as the dockworkers wished there weren't ghosts around, they had gotten used to having them. Amity Park's Harbor, completely ghost free? “Something's not right.” He repeated aloud, immediately flying up and zooming off, leaving the workers to chat amongst themselves.

 

Figuring he'd gathered enough information for the moment, and that his bath was probably cooled, he headed back home to get some rest and try and figure what the disappearances meant. They may not mean anything at all, may not be linked in the slightest to the zombie ghosts and his discolorations, in fact all three could be completely unrelated and he could be going though just yet another weird ghostly metamorphosis, like with puberty when his powers had virtually developed a mind of their own for a few months.

 

But then again, they could all be tied together in some elaborate plot or universal divine plan, and he could be heading straight for yet another big boss battle with some knew unknown ghost.

 

Back in his bathroom he breathed in the smell of soapy bathwater, a bath really would be nice. Pulling off a glove he tested the water, just as he suspected it was cool, but that was fine, he had taken a quick shower that morning and was relatively clean. Glancing at the small black lines on his exposed skin his swore. A bath may be nice, but all it would do would be remind him of his bruises. With a frustrated grunt he pulled the drain plug, toweled off his hand, and shoved the white glove back on.

 

He had to figure this all out, before things got nasty.

 

There was a knock at the bathroom door, startling him.

 

“Danny? Sweetie you've been in there for a long time, did you fall asleep?”

 

With a start he quickly transformed back to his human self, the misty air hitting his bare skin and raising the goose flesh from wherever it lay dormant within him. He had completely forgotten he was naked under the suit, then the doorknob was already turning. Barely managing to grab the discarded robe as the door opened and his mother stood in the doorway, a worried look on her face, Dash, Sam, and Tucker in the hallway behind her peaking over her shoulder.

 

“Do you mind?!” Danny screamed, his hands flashing in front of him to close the fabric, hiding the marring discolorations and his nudity.

 

“Sorry!” His mother yelped, quickly shutting the door “Wait for him in his room kids, kay?”she instructed before marching off towards the stairs.

 

Tucker coughed and started to head off in that direction, walking a few paces before he noticed the absence of companionable footsteps on the hollow floors. Glancing back he noticed Dash and Sam were still standing there, staring at the door.

 

“Uh, guys?” They jolted and cast a quick look out to each other with a blush, then turned to follow Tucker, who rolled his eyes heavenward.

 

Why was he always the one to have to notice this crap.

 

~*~*~

 

It didn't take long for Sam and Tucker to get comfortable with Dash, Danny realized when he walked into his bedroom, in his bathrobe, hoping to whatever divine entity that didn't currently hate him that he didn't smell like the docks, he was supposed to have just gotten out of the bath after all.

 

Dash, Sam, and Tucker were sitting casually in a circle in his room, eating from a bowl of chips, and going over their Government homework. Danny thought it was an interesting thing, though to anybody else, like his parents, it would seem just an average study party. All Danny could see were a sports hierarchy member, and anarchist, and a new ager discussing politics in a civilized manner. It kind of made him want to laugh, and he would have, sure, if he wasn't so damn tense from the absolute quiet from the overlaying spiritual plane. The totally out of place, and out of character scene in his room only made him feel even more displaced and on edge. No ghosts and no fighting? Just four high school seniors studying. It was so normal, too normal.

 

Normal was not normal!

 

He swallowed hard, shutting his door behind him and dumping his used cloths in a pile on the floor he tried to go for a casual stroll into the room towards his friends.

 

And Dash.

 

Dash was the first to look up at him, and the friendly smile that crossed his face made his stomach quiver. Adjusting the strap on his robe uncomfortably, he tried to remember the last time he saw that familiar smile, in his dream when he had fought Nocturne; soft and welcoming, pulling out a chair for him like some old fashioned chivalrous gentleman. He hadn't thought much about it then, more focused on the fame, the acceptance, and of course the satisfaction of Sam sitting next to him, warm and intimate, but he didn't exactly know why Dash was there in the dream, as a friend.

 

With as much grace as his uncoordinated body could achieve he folded himself down beside them, grabbing a chip from the bowl, letting a slight irritation slip down his thoughts like a child down a waterslide that the one he grabbed was barely a fragment. Sam laughed at his pout and with a hurt glare at the bowl of ultimate betrayal he tossed the sliver into his mouth and grabbed a handful.

 

Vengeance was his!

 

Now that he was on the train of thought, both he and Sam had had the exact same dream, well minus a few details, but it was the same setting. He, Dash, Tucker, and she, all friends eating lunch together just the four of them. Like some elite group.

 

Was that why it was so easy to accept that he was there now? Because of some underlying wish to not only be excepted by the general populace of the school, but by Dash himself? Danny couldn't believe that, not at the moment anyway. No, it was only because Dash had always seemed the doorway. The chance to get into the popular crowd and close to Paulina. After all Paulina really ran everything, Dash had to kick his own friend out of the group when Paulina let Danny join. And Dash was so easy to get the better of, so easy to impress and avoid. He was like an open door.

 

It was only natural that Danny get a little obsessed with having Dash accept him, he was the key to the group right?

 

“So we're all agreed about the report?”

 

Danny looked up from the interesting forest of fibers that was his carpeted floor to his companions, nodding and muttering a yes. Sam looked absolutely exuberant about the decision, Danny could only stare confusedly.

 

“Uh, could you repeat that?” He asked with a twitch of his eye.

 

“Fenton you weren't even listening.” Dash groaned, as if being distracted and not understanding things weren't what he did daily. “We were talking about the big group project.”

 

“Uh, what project?”

 

“Oh yeah that's right, you ran out before the announcement.” Tucker leafed through his disorganized notebook to retrieve the handout they had gotten in class that day. “The teacher wants us to research a branch of government and present it to the class.”

 

Danny glanced over the paper, not really interested. “It says partners of two.” He stated.

 

“Yeah, You and Me, Dash and Tucker.” Sam said satisfied.

 

Danny blinked. He kept forgetting there were four of them now. He turned a raised eyebrow to the blonde. “What about Kwan?”

 

Dash shrugged. “Probably will do it with Star, the girl's a total mooch in a project but Kwan pulls A's out of his ass.”

 

“Nice image.” Tucker muttered, putting his notebook away. Danny stared longingly at his bed, again not really interested in any of this.

 

“The nurse got the teachers to excuse you from the homework and any assignments, so you don't really have to make anything up today, but Mr. Lancer kind of insisted I bring these to you.” Dash handed a depressingly thick pile of papers to Danny, who immediately fell into petrified terror.

 

He'd never get to sleep.

 

“Here Danny.” Sam said without looking, just passing her worksheets towards him. It was pretty much habit to simply let Danny copy them rather than waste valuable time trying to hammer the days lessons into his exhausted drooping head. Danny simply nodded, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he quickly scribbled down the answers to the math worksheet.

 

“I don't have these classes with you.” Danny whined under his breath, looking at the other sheets of paper. “What are these, saved up from last semester? I don't remember any of this.”

 

“We learned them last week,” Tucker pointed out, “while you were attempting to learn by osmosis.” He put his hands together and tilted his head against them to illustrate sleeping.

 

“That could be your next science experiment Danny.” Sam joked.

 

Danny just grumbled and finished copying down the classes he shared with Sam and Tucker. Between the two of them he only had three mutual assignments, luckily they were the thicker pages, but it left the last writing assignment for Mr. Lancer's English. Both Sam and Tucker were in AP classes, the jerks.

 

“You don't have to copy so fast Danny, we're not going anywhere.” Tucker said. “No need to give yourself a cramp.”

 

“To late.” Danny said dropping the pencil onto the page to roll down into his lap and flexing the fingers on his dominate hand, swiveling his wrist. “But I'm done.”

 

“Record Time!” Sam grinned.

 

“Shut up.” Danny shoved her shoulder with his left hand.

 

“Alright, now that we've managed to keep to our vow of Homework Before Ghosts for yet another night.”

 

“Praise HBG.” Sam and Danny sang in unison, causing Dash to blink stupidly at them.

 

“Right. Well, now that it's over with, let's get on the topic of exactly what's been going on lately.”

 

They all turned expectantly to Danny, which was absolutely fantastic because he was still rolling his wrist in circles and staring down at his papers. What to write for his essay, maybe if Lancer's illegible handwriting wasn't what the little note at the corner of the page was written in he'd know the topic. All the typed print on the page said was a five-paragraph essay using a cause and effect style and typed in MLA format. What the hell was that supposed to be? Wasn't MLA for research papers? Lancer was contradicting himself again.

 

“Hello? Fenton, you still with us?”

 

Danny stilled his wrist, realizing that moving it like that was now starting to cramp up his arm, and looked at his friends, and Dash.

 

“Uh, yes?” He answered.

 

“What's been happening lately?” Sam asked slowly. “Nothing on the TV about ghosts recently, and you've had some quiet patrols when we were there, so what's up?”

 

“Yeah dude, what'd we miss?”

 

Danny sighed. “Nothing.”

 

“What do you mean, nothing?” Tucker pressed.

 

“There's never a nothing, Danny.”

 

“I mean nothing!” He said. “I mean absolutely nothing has happened in the last few days! No attacks, no disturbances, no appearances, not even the BoxGhost! And there wasn't even a faint imprint of post human consciousness down at the docks, the most haunted freaking part of the whole damned down!”

 

“Okay, okay no need to shout.” Sam said, leaning as far away from him and his aggravated fit.

 

“I'm not shouting!” He said loudly, Dash swiftly clamped a hand over his mouth.

 

“Yeah you are.” He said harshly. “Jeeze what the hell if wrong with you Fenton?”

 

“Yeah dude, what's the matter, we only asked.”

 

Danny made a muttering sound behind Dash's hand.

 

“What was that?” Dash asked, getting strange glances from all three of them. “What?” He asked Sam and Tucker.

 

Danny bit.

 

“Youch! What was that for?”

 

“I couldn't speak around your big meaty hand!” Danny shouted.

 

“Shut up! You're shouting again!”

 

“So are you!”

 

“Guys chill!” Tucker grabbed a pillow and smothered Danny with it the same time Sam threw her textbook, hitting Dash in his hard chest with a thump. “Someone will hear you.”

 

“Ow,” Dash yipped. Danny struggled under Tucker trying with little success to get him off him. Not because he couldn't breathe, because he could, but because the guy was kneeling on his chest and sending fire through him. He felt like every little broken blood vessel that formulated the grotesque discolorations were stabbing at him with cattle prods.

 

Finally he managed to remember he had ghostly powers, and simply went intangible, sinking through the floor to let Tucker fall on his ass, then reappearing beside Sam, who looked very satisfied with the fact that she got to strike Dash with a book.

 

“Okay, so we're all calm now right?” She asked sounding like an annoyed, yet pleased babysitter who just got a bunch of rambunctious kids to sit still for two whole seconds and nothing more. Dash nodded, rubbing his sore chest, and Danny just grunted, crossing his arms over his own chest trying in vain to block out the painful throbbing. Tucker picked himself up off the floor and threw the pillow back on the bed. “I think we all know why we're so tense.” The three boys looked at her. “It's the article,” she said with conviction “it has us all so wound up in knots and agitated that we're bursting out in anger at the littlest things.”

 

“Like I care about some stupid gossip column.” Dash muttered, plopping his butt back down on the floor. “They post things about me all the friggen time.”

 

“They call you gay all the time?” Sam challenged.

 

“Well, no, but it's no different than any other lie they spread.” He brushed it off with a sniff. “Who cares if I'm queer anyway? They say that about jocks all the time. Fenton'll be the one with `faggot' written across his locker, not me.”

 

“Sam.” Danny said, halting whatever puffed up remark she'd been about to spew. “What would you suggest we do?”

 

“Protest.” Tucker muttered and Sam sent him a glare.

 

“We could write a complaint to the principal.” She said proudly. “School isn't a free press, it's private and besides even if it was, it's libel! They can't print whatever they want, no matter what they claim.”

 

Dash scoffed. “Better take it to Mr. Lancer.” He said. “The principal has as much control over this school as you do. Everyone knows Lancer runs the place.”

 

“A classic example being Friday?” Danny offered, Dash colored a bit in embarrassment. “Lancer may have discipline under his list of responsibilities, but Mrs. Ishiyama has the final say and everyone knows it.”

 

“Fine, take it up with the principal if you want.” Dash huffed. “But I'm telling you it's a waste. Calling attention to it just makes it look more real. Ignore it, it'll pass.”

 

“Sure,” Danny was not convinced, and the last thing he wanted was `faggot' tagged across his locker. “So, while you do that, Sam can gripe, and I'll be busy trying to be as invisible as possible throughout it all.”

 

“Not that big of a problem with you.” Tucker pointed out.

 

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, even without ghost powers, being invisible never was a problem for him.

 

The silence that followed was broken with a very loud, very long yawn from Danny that made everybody take yet another look at him.

 

“You look like something the cat dragged in.” Sam stated. Out of nowhere Grimalkin meowed an objection to the line from the bed causing Dash to tense and Tucker to snicker.

 

“That cat wouldn't bother to drag you in dude; you'd scare its apatite away for good.”

 

“Guys, I'm fine I'm just tired.” Danny said, turning away to look out the window beside his bed, it was very late afternoon, he could see the dark blue streaks hovering like black fog around the buildings in the distance. For a second he hoped, really hoped he would see some ghostly smudge sweep across the exposed sky, just to ease his mind and the tension fisting his spine.

 

He felt something grip his chin hard and turn his head and suddenly he was staring into the square face of Dash Baxter. Every tired, aching muscle in his body found the strength to tense.

 

It was creepy. Way creepy. Dash was not allowed to be this close to him unless he had one fist in his shirt and the other raised to strike. In fact, he was usually so busy cringing from the promise of pain he never registered just how Dash looked.

 

The stupid seventies jock hairstyle and the broad shoulders covered in a letter jacket had always been the traits best used for recognizing Dash, the thick black eyebrows automatically narrowing every time his glance landed on him, the blue eyes turning hard and cruel, the strong jaw clenching tightly in restrained irritation. That was what Danny imagined when he pictured Dash's face.

 

He had a light smattering of blackheads on his chin and what looked like the beginnings of a pimple above his right eye, he also had a few nose hairs that needed to be trimmed. He never noticed Dash's crooked nose before, what looked to have been broken several times, or the faint scar on his thin lips from having it split just a little too much. Just what kind of a beating did jocks go through?

 

“You look like shit.” Danny started, scared for a second before he realized it was Dash who had spoken, not him.

 

Tucker glanced nervously at Sam, who was currently gripping her textbook a little too hard. He hoped throwing it at Dash once was enough for one night, but positioned himself for a quick escape just in case.

 

Luckily, Dash released Danny immediately after that, his head nodding down once, a firm jerk of a motion with a kind of finality that had Danny scooting back a few paces. “Get to bed.” He said turning around and shoving stuff into his backpack. “Get to bed, get some sleep, and don't go to school tomorrow.”

 

“Say what?” Danny exclaimed.

 

Dash slung his backpack, unzipped, over his shoulder and stared Danny down. “You look about ready to go ghost permanently.” He said through narrowed eyes. “If you show up to school tomorrow I swear you will be spending it in the nurse's office for completely unrelated reasons.”

 

“Dude, how do you know about going gho-” Dash silenced Tucker with a steely blue glare. He gripped the boy's arm harshly and started tugging him out.

 

“You too creepy.” He growled to Sam.

 

“What do you think you`re-”

 

With a single sweep of his arm he managed to release Tucker and grab Sam, shoving her in front of him and knocking her into her friend, causing them both to stumble out of the room and hit the hallway wall.

 

Before either of them could even turn around to protest Dash was out himself, shutting the door behind him without even a backwards warning glance at Danny. He was absolutely certain Danny would follow his orders.

 

“What the hell was that about!” Sam screeched. All too willing to claw out Dash's organs and feed them to her vampire obsessed cohorts down at the local Goth club, but sadly Tucker was gripping her arm with a firm, well accustomed hold, fully aware of Sam's rages.

 

“You were the first to point out his state.” Dash said coldly, turning in the direction opposite the stairs on the hallway. “I was just doing something about it.”

 

“Threatening him is doing something?”

 

“Always worked for him before.” Dash shrugged.

 

“You can't just order him around.” Sam yelled. “And where do you think you're going?”

 

“Sleep, I'm tired too.” Dash answered, “and as for ordering him around.” He pinned her with a hard assessing glare. “Maybe people should start doing it more often.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I'm saying that sometimes sitting back and letting him make the right choice isn't always best.” He opened the guestroom door, where his packed cloths from the previous day, which he never did use because he went to his own home instead, still sat in a bag on the bed. “Sometimes you got to beat it into him, because he's too thick headed to see anything but what he deems important.” Slinging his open pack up next to the sack, he faced them fully. “Sometimes you have to accept that he isn't some saint.”

 

“I never said Danny was a saint.” Sam snapped, not liking at all that she was being lectured on stuff she already knew. “And since when do you sleep here?”

 

“Since Friday night.” Dash answered. “And you don't have to say anything, I can see it every time you two see him all fair-haired and wispy tailed. You worship the air he floats on more than any of those airhead fan girls ever could.” He neglected to acknowledge that he was technically one of those fangirls…err boys. “You lecture him, gripe at him, and try and steer him in the right direction, or what you think is right, but at the same time you don't really care what decision he makes in the end. Even if he destroyed the earth you'd somehow rationalize that it was for the better because you know when it all comes down to it he'll make the right choice, because he's done it so many times before..” He arched and eyebrow. “Am I right?”

 

“Danny makes good decisions.” Tucker said quietly. “Sometimes we have to pick at him to do it, but even when we don't things turn out okay. He's a lot different than he was when he first started out.”

 

Sam nodded, crossing her arms and leaning back.

 

“So because nothing drastic has happened yet because of his little choices you think he is automatically right?”

 

“No.” Sam said. “Danny is actually wrong more often than he is right, but he looks at everything, weighs the consequences, and ultimately makes the right choice. He does not act on a whim, and though he can be selfish sometimes he never puts his own needs before that of others.” For long, she added mentally, but she was not about to concede a single point to her blonde adversary.

 

“You need to stop and assess your own choices.” Dash said, and shut the door firmly in their faces.

 

Sam and Tucker blinked at the wooden barrier for a brief moment before Sam let out a sharp cry and slammed her fist into it.

 

“Is there a problem?” They both turned to Maddie, standing at the top of the stairs worriedly.

 

“Yes, there is.” Sam muttered, but tried to put on a smile. “Mrs. Fenton we would like to stay the night, could we?”

 

Maddie looked a bit uncertain, but brightened her voice when she answered, “Sure thing sweetie, but call your parents to get their okay. I know you kids think you're all grown, but you still need their permission.”

 

Sam nodded and flipped out her cell phone. Tucker was busy staring at her as if she were crazy. “Did you say `we'?”

 

“Shush.” Sam said and waved him off.

 

“Well we'll certainly have a full house tonight. I'm sorry that we only have the spare bedroom upstairs available.” said Maddie apologetically.

 

“That's okay; I'll take Jazz's room.” Sam said, certain it wouldn't be a problem. She left a voicemail on her grandmother's phone, who would break the unfortunate news of her prolonged exposure with the Fentons to her parents. Tucker grudgingly took out his PDA and messaged his father at work.

 

“I like that room anyway.” He said. “Thank you Miss Fenton.” He nodded at her as he climbed the stairs to the Ops Center, humming something that sounded eerily like “MMMmm, technology.”

 

“Good night.” Sam said to Maddie deceptively sweet and headed off to Jazz's fluffy room. She shut the door unnecessarily hard but the woman just crossed it off as an aversion to the pink decorations. She headed back downstairs shaking her head with a smile on her face.

 

~*~*~

 

Nobody had even noticed he had opened his door a crack to hear their conversation. Well actually, he had opened it to yell at Dash to mind his own damn business, but quickly shut it a little bit when he heard a small snippet from their argument.

 

Truth be told he had always known of the change in Sam and Tucker's attitude towards him. Sure the first two years they griped and grumbled and generally did everything to order him around, then they just would stare at him in sadness and disappointment and somehow guilt him into doing what they wanted. Lately? Lately they seemed content to subtly hint at their displeasure and leave him to it.

 

It was mostly his fault after all. He did give the impression he automatically made the right decision. It wasn't as if he meant it to be that way, he really just didn't want his friends to think of the struggle he had to go through to do the right thing.

 

He never figured it would lead them to this road.

 

With footsteps as quiet as falling snow, he crept to Dash's door, knocking as loudly as he dared. When there was no answer, he glanced around and turned intangible. Slipping through the door with no effort at all.

 

Dash was laying out on the bed, ankles crossed and his head propped up on his arms staring at the ceiling. Danny swept over to the side of the bed before turning tangible again.

 

“Hey.” He said softly, causing Dash to jerk and let out a girly yipe. “Hush.” He said firmly and Dash bit his lip.

 

“You should be asleep.” Dash hissed, totally not understanding why they had to whisper when the sun was still out.

 

“You should be cinders after daring to cross Sam.” Danny jested. He let his weight settle on the mattress, leaning on one arm to hover over Dash, propped up on the pillows. “I heard what you guys said.”

 

“Yeah, what of it? You gonna lecture me too?” Dash looked impudent, as though daring him to try.

 

“I figured it sounded like you were giving the lecture.” He smirked, but it was so tired looking that it drooped at the edges and appeared like he was trying hard not to blink. “You surprised me; I didn't think you'd be so deep and analytic.”

 

“Yeah well, despite years of trying I've yet to achieve the complete imbecile level of moronic,” Dash mocked, facial muscles hardening into stern irritance. “I'm not as dumb as you people believe. You have no idea how difficult it is to memorize all those plays. Sometimes I'm so busy going over them in my head I don't even know what's going on around me, pretty much why I walk into such stupid pranks all the time.” He sighed. “And yet our team isn't even good, I have to play all kinds of sports at the school just to make up for the lameness of each one.”

 

“You're right you know.” Danny said distractedly.

 

“Hey don't hurt yourself being all sympathetic.” Dash snarled.

 

“No, not that.” Danny amended. “About me.”

 

Dash was confused. “What about you?'

 

“I suck at making good choices.”

 

Dash sat up, following the train of thought quickly. “Hey, hey everybody makes bad moves sometimes.” He consoled. “No need to hold that against yourself. I was just trying to get it through their head that you needed help.” He cringed. Great, now Danny was going to blow up on him, after a few moments of nothing he chanced a peak out from his scrunched eyes. The brunet didn't even look like he had heard him.

 

Danny had closed his eyes with a pained look on his face “I'm going to tell you a secret.” He said after another minute in silence. “A very big, very bad secret. He was still in that bathrobe, and Dash didn't have a clue if he had underwear on under it or not, but his pale legs peaked out of the fold as he crossed and recrossed them in discomfort.

 

“A little less than four years ago, during the CAT exams, I made a very big mistake, one that almost hurt a lot of people, that, on some strange unreachable level, did hurt a lot of people.

 

“During a ghost fight with someone that shouldn't even have existed, at least not then, I somehow ended up with the answer key to the test. Now I didn't steal it,” he snapped hurriedly, “I wouldn't deliberately take something that important, at least I hope not, really I never even thought about it, or I think I didn't. Maybe later on I would have, I had some kind of fleeting idea during the assembly but I could never recall it when I try.”

 

“You're not making any sense.” Dash sat up.

 

“Don't interrupt me.” Danny hushed. “I figured that if I got the answers without trying to get them than it must be fate. I must have been meant to have them, some kind of karmatic reward for all the good I'd done I guess.

 

“I decided I'd just cheat and get it done with. Perfect scores, perfect life right? I mean even my sister didn't get a perfect score, I would really be a genius, and that magazine would boast that they knew it all the time. My parents would be so proud and Lancer would be off my back and maybe even let me off with a few warnings instead of constant detentions.

 

“I didn't think that it would have such drastic consequences.” He sighed heavily. “Actually these days I'm not even sure if any of it would have ever happened if Clockwork hadn't gotten involved, if maybe the test answers had never fallen into my hands through his influence maybe I'd just bomb the test and get on with it. But because of everyone's interferences, because of everybody trying to stop a future that may be bad, they created the bad future.

 

“It's a bit of a paradox. Clockwork had to stop me from turning evil, so he gave me the means of becoming evil, and by me stumbling upon my evil future I chose to escape that future, thus stopping everything he had originally started, making it so I didn't turn evil just like he wanted, but in reality I may have never even turned evil in the first place if he hadn't given me the chance to, even though he only did it to prevent me from turning evil.”

 

“Ouch.” Dash groaned. “Okay, idiot jock here. What do you mean by evil, Danny you are seriously sounding like you need to be knocked comatose until spring.”

 

“This is hard, okay? I barely understand it all.”

 

“Okay, I'll try to be patient.”

 

“Good. Now through various circumstances that don't need to be mentioned Sam and Tucker and I wound up ten years in the future, a very depressing future.”Danny shuddered as he related the crumbling buildings and the news from future Valerie that his parents and friends had died, it hadn't really registered yet, not until the graveyard, and so he simply focused on the fight at hand. The menacing entrance of his future self, and saving Valerie from what could have been her very present demise. Then when everything finally set in, and he was tossed into the ghost zone to be knocked around by aging nemesis's until he could successfully get away.

 

He added in what he had picked up from his friends conversations, and left out some trivial details like Vlad being a half ghost.

 

“Sam and Tucker got away, and the next thing they knew they were getting details from someone who wasn't me. They never figured out what happened next, because from the time I was returned to and the reality they almost faced was wiped from their memories. Or maybe it simply never existed.”

 

“But you saw it, you experienced it. How could it never exist?”

 

“I try not to think about it too much. I still don't know how they figured out The Nasty Burger was still going to blow. I guess even life has plot holes.”

 

“I can't believe you actually went through something like that.” Dash said, picking at a stray fiber on his jeans. “I don't think I'd be able to handle my whole family dying.”

 

“I couldn't either.” Danny struggled for a bit., then with a sigh continued his story. He told Dash of Vlad and his disturbing news, his explanations, winding it down to the eventual interference of ClockWork.

 

“The problem is,” he said when he was through and Dash was staring down at the covers like they were made of gold. “I never really experienced that pain.” He looked out at the rapidly darkening sky. “Clockwork's interference was possibly what originally started the evil future, but if that same interference halted it as well, what happened to the evil future that was supposed to come? What was the original cause of it, and could it still happen?”

 

“Danny, I don't think you'd-” Dash reached out but Danny jerked away.

 

“How do you know?” he asked. “I don't even know. I have absolutely no idea what was going through my mind when I wanted my soul ripped out. My human emotions would still be within me, I'd just be split in half. Did I blame my ghost half for everything, did I want it destroyed? What caused my ghost half to suddenly act so violently? Did he know he was going to be killed? Did he act in defense? And if it was Vlad and me both inside him, why did he only acknowledge me as his past? Wasn't it Vlad's ghost what overwhelmed him?” Danny was shaking, but like before, like always, he didn't cry.

 

“I just don't know. And that's why, why I have to be careful with my decisions. But I still slip up, still struggle. And that scares me. Because I'm so close to the edge and it's dark” he paused, “and I'm stumbling.”

 

He suddenly found himself crushed against Dash, and he gasped. Or tried to, the arms around him were so hard and unyielding he couldn't get the air into him.

 

“You're not a bad person.” Dash said hoarsely, and Danny felt something warm drop onto his temple.

 

Dash was crying?

 

That's not what he wanted. He only wanted Dash to know that it wasn't Sam and Tucker's fault. That he simply didn't want them to know, that he didn't want to burden them. “How do you know?” he found himself asking.

 

“Because you're just not. Your good and kind and you wouldn't hurt anybody, especially not your friends and family, just because of some long lost universe where you turned evil, your questioning yourself? Of course some alternate universe has an evil form of us, all of us, it's unbalanced otherwise. I bet there's a universe where I'm some absolute nerd and dating Manson and Lancer is the cutest teacher on campus and -”

 

“It almost happened again.” Danny whispered into Dash's chest.

 

Dash pulled back. “What?” Hands gripping Danny's shoulders, trembling hands, big hands. Danny could feel the warmth of them through the thick fluffy robe.

 

“It almost happened…again.” Danny's head lolled, the knowledge giving it a weight that even a superhero wouldn't be able to lift. “Sophomore year.”

 

Dash's eyes widened perceptibly, but Danny wasn't looking. “How?” He gulped. “Why?”

 

“It's a long story…Longer that the other one, and…” Danny paused. “And a lot more painful.”

 

Dash let his eyes droop. “We aren't going to get any sleep are we?” He said in mock laugh.

 

Danny smiled bitterly. “Not likely.”

 

Dash gripped Danny under the chin and tilted his face up. “Spill.” He breathed.

 

Danny just nodded.