"...I'm the one responsible."

"Got that right, ghost!" She didn't think twice before she fired at him. She was too infuriated that he'd even try this again, that he'd mimic that innocent voice that had belonged to Danny Fenton. He was Phantom, the ultimate master of deception. He had fooled her once with that voice, and she wasn't about to let that happen again.

She missed, but just barely—he'd gone intangible. She watched, eyes filled with complete loathing, as Phantom rose up from ground.

"Valerie! Listen to me!" It hurt to hear his voice—his old voice, with all its pubescent inflections—and she desperately wished Phantom would give up the act.

Her fury grew more intense as she stared Phantom down, and the ghost-huntress part of her told her to shoot him into non-existence. The ghost-huntress—that was who she was now. Valerie Gray didn't exist anymore; she was from a brighter place, a time when happiness and grief coexisted in Amity Park in an almost harmonious way, and life went on. Danny Fenton was gone with those times, too. Her, him, and how Amity Park used to be were only memories now, wisps of the past. Those times had been before Phantom.

The worst and most disturbing part of it all was that Phantom understood what he'd done to her. He reveled in the fact that he'd destroyed her, taken her innocence away and crumpled it up and threw it aside like a piece of trash. He understood what the loss of innocence meant—he had sealed that fate for himself by cheating on the CAT. He had destroyed himself. But instead of protecting others from the same fate, as she did, he chose to destroy everyone else, too, to make everyone else suffer with him. He felt no remorse for his actions because he had surrendered his humanity, but that did not ease his pain, did not end his internal torture. Phantom did what he did for a reason—no matter how hard he tried or what he did, he'd exist with his mistakes forever. He had sentenced himself to an afterlife in his own personal hell—he was doomed. That was why he was so destructive. Because he was selfish. Because he was weak. Because he was a coward. And that was what made him the ultimate evil, the ultimate enemy.

"You can't fool me this time, Phantom!" She sent another blast towards him. And another. And another. But he evaded her attacks. She decided on a different tactic and jumped off of her jet-sled, sending it sailing towards him. He seemed genuinely surprised by this, which was a bit of a shocker. Either he really hadn't seen that coming, or he knew how to play his cards well. She assumed the latter as he clumsily avoided her jet-sled, giving her the chance to shoot her ghost-proof net at him. To her astonishment, she actually caught him. She hadn't expected this, but it worked for her. He fell to the ground, and she held her bazooka in line with his face.

She was going to make him pay for everything he'd done. This revenge wasn't just for her, though. It was for Danny, too. She and him had only barely begun to be friends before everything fell apart—she had even started developing a bit of a crush on him—and yet he'd still been the truest friend she'd ever had. She had meant nothing to that shallow crowd of populars she had once been apart of. Danny had been more real than any of them. But now he was dead.

Though Valerie knew Danny's actions had led to the accident that had ruined Amity Park, it had been written clearly in his heart-broken eyes that he had not meant for it to happen, and that he deeply regretted what he'd done. Valerie had forgiven him for his mistake and resolved that it was not Danny's fault—no one could have ever known that the death of his friends and family (and Mr. Lancer) would be the outcome of his cheating on the CAT. Unfortunately, she'd never had a chance to tell him that before he was shipped off to live with Vlad Masters. And that was where it had all went wrong.

She partially blamed herself for the existence of Phantom. Danny was unable to forgive himself for what he'd done, that much was obvious, but maybe if she had given him her forgiveness, had proved to him that even things as horrible as the accident could be forgiven, things might have turned out differently. Maybe Phantom would only be a bad nightmare. But she had been scared of revealing her secret identity as a ghost-hunter-her dad wasn't about to drive her all the way out to Wisconsin, much less pay for an expensive ticket to fly her there, so the only option had been to fly herself on her jet-sled. She could've called or e-mailed him, she knew, but that would've been too impersonal. Since there was no way to get to Danny without exposing herself, she had decided to just let the matter go—she doubted he wanted to talk about it, anyway.

A few months later, she had heard word that her only friend was dead. Vlad had supplied enough evidence to pronounce Daniel Fenton as no more. The story was that his mansion had exploded, due, he guessed, to his ghost portal, and Danny had been inside. He sadly admitted that there had been nothing he could do, and then the billionaire had mysteriously disappeared. The news had been too much for Valerie, and she'd had a nervous breakdown. She very nearly lost her mind because of the nightmares. At first, she'd dreamt of an unknowing Danny reading a comic book or watching TV, and then the ghost portal going haywire, sending the whole place sky high. But more horrific imaginings manifested as she began to think of all the possibilities—after all, there was no way for Vlad to really know if that had been how it went down. She started dreaming of a grief-stricken Danny planting suicide bombs in the mansion while Vlad was away, exploding himself into oblivion, just as his friends and family had gone. The nightmares plagued her for months, but Valerie was strong, and she had slowly recovered from her trauma-induced illness. From there, she tried once more to adopt a relatively normal life as a teenager.

Phantom looked at her through the net, his radioactive green eyes wide and pleading and confused. Valerie tried to look away—she wouldn't let herself fall for it again! She had an instantaneous flashback of when she'd foolishly mistaken Phantom for Danny:

It is very gray and cold and windy today—not unusual weather for autumn. But I don't like it. The frozen air is chilling to the bone and it makes me feel like death, makes me feel like a ghost. That's why I don't like it. Feeling like a ghost makes me think of the ghostboy and how boring my life is without him here in Amity Park. Ever since the nightmares stopped, I've developed a longing to see the ghostkid. But, oddly enough, he'd disappeared around the same time Danny had gone to live with Vlad.

I have recently identified the reasons why I want to see Danny Phantom. One: I miss how things used to be. I miss the excitement of the hunt and the suspense and the anger—any emotion is better than the numbness I feel now. I also miss instinct. I miss the ability to act impulsively, without thinking. Two: I want to see a familiar face, his face. The ghostboy always did look a lot like Danny, what with the style of his hair and the shape of his face and the wideness of his eyes. I know that particular reason is most unhealthy, though—Danny is dead, and that is a fact that I must accept if I'm ever going to move forward in life, if one could call me living. Three: I've come to realize that I was wrong about Danny Phantom all along. I was too blinded by hatred and anger and the need for revenge to see that he was actually one of the good guys. And, truthfully, if it weren't for him, I would still be a ditzy, shallow girl who never knew Danny Fenton—

Snap.

I spin around on the heel of my shoe, eyes shifting back and forth, scanning the area. But there's nothing. There isn't a lot of people out today, and the park is relatively empty. I sigh and continue my walk.

Snap.

I twirl around again. "Hello? Who's there?" I call, looking around. I'm standing on the sidewalk. A fountain is a little ways on one side of the path, and on the other are some loosely packed trees. I knew I'd heard something that time—it was like a twig snapping under force, as if someone had stepped on it. I gaze into the gloom of trees... and see movement. A shadow, the silhouette of a person. But I blink and it's gone.

"Great, Valerie. Now you're seeing things," I mutter to myself. Still feeling paranoid, I turn around to walk home, and run smack into someone who crumples in my arms. That's when I knew I was going crazy, because this someone had been dead for the past year and a half. I scream and shove him away from me. Stumbling backwards, I trip over my own feet and fall. But when I look up, he's gone.

Swiveling my head left and right, I'm half expecting him to pop out at me again. But there's nothing. I take a deep, shuddering breath to calm myself. It doesn't work. I stand up and start sprinting down the sidewalk, wanting to get away from this place where his presence lingers too strongly. I slow down after a few minutes of running, and walk quickly in the direction of the exit. If I could just get to my car...

I stop dead in my tracks. He's there again, sitting on a bench, staring at a patch of dead grass at his feet— No, I'm imagining this. Danny is dead.

I keep repeating this sentence to myself as I slowly back away from him, but the more I say it, the more real the Danny sitting on the bench is. As if sensing that thought, he looks up. I gasp quietly. He's different. His blue eyes, though thoughtful and inquisitive as they scrutinize me, are duller than I ever remember seeing them. Underneath his dead eyes are bruise-like shadows, and his skin is ivory white. He looks sickly.

"Valerie?" His voice is broken and weak sounding. I wince.

"No, you died!" I blurt out, shaken.

He merely shakes his head at my outburst, looking downcast.

"Vlad said you were inside his mansion when his ghost portal—the explosion—it killed you..." I stammer.

He doesn't answer. That's when I notice that he's shivering, and I realize he's not wearing adequate clothing for the weather.

"Are... are you cold?" I ask, my voice small.

"Yes," he says blankly, "I'm very cold." His voice frightens me—he sounds so hopeless, so lifeless.

I walk over to him hesitantly and sit down on the bench, as far away from him as possible. This is absurd—I'm talking to a hallucination!

"I came here because I thought you would help me, Val," he says, giving me a look that breaks my heart.

"You know I'd help you, Danny... if you were alive."

He seems angered by what I said, and reaches his hand out across the space that divides us. "What, this isn't alive enough for you?" he asks bitterly, and I feel his fingertips brush against my cheek. A shiver crawls up my spine and my blood curdles at the feel of actual fingers on my face, and I violently jerk away from his touch. He is so cold, like death...

His expression softens and he pulls his hand back. "Sorry," he mumbles quietly.

I hug myself tightly. "S'okay," I mutter, my skin tingling where he'd touched it. So I felt him touch me—big whoop. That doesn't mean he's real. My mind was probably playing highly creative tricks on me.

I reach out my hand with the intention to touch his arm, wanting to make doubly sure that this is all an illusion. I glance up at his face and see puzzlement in his eyes. "Er... may I?" I ask, pulling my hand back slightly. He answers by sticking his arm out for me. I reach for him again, and my fingers make contact with his forearm. I draw back immediately, frightened out of my wits. He arches a brow at me and takes my hand in his.

"Valerie, I'm alive," he says, looking down at our hands with a look of fascination on his face. I notice that he doesn't look any older—whereas I'm sixteen, he still looks as if he's fourteen. But that didn't matter right now. All that matters is the pressure of his hand in mine. Danny is alive.

I feel something stir inside of me, like a flicker of life. Unable to control myself, I trap him in a bone-crunching hug, and I shiver because he's so cold. I'm crying, and laughing, and just soaking in the happiness while holding my friend in my arms. I don't even care about all the grief he's put me through, I'm just glad he's alive. To make me even more happy, Danny returns the hug. I feel a warmness spread throughout my entire body, despite how cold he is.

"You don't look very different," I say as I pull away from him, gripping his shoulders. There is a hitch in my voice. "Heck, you're still wearing the same shirt you always liked to wear!" I laugh, sitting back and wiping the tears off of my face with the sleeve of my red jacket.

He laughs, too—the sound is like music to my ears—and smiles warmly at me. "Yeah? Well, you sure look... different," he says, tilting his head and looking me over in a way that makes the blood in my cheeks flare up. It's true that I've changed a lot over the past two years, and not just emotionally, as I am uncomfortably sure Danny is noticing.

"Heh... yeah, well, a lot can happen in two years," I say shakily, embarrassed.

He seems amused by this, and grins kind of wickedly at me. "You have no idea," he says, swinging his legs up onto the bench so that he's sitting with his back against the arm rest. He folds one of his legs under the other, letting his foot dangle off of the side, and leans forward to rest his elbow on his knee. He is very adorable when he does this, and I smile fondly at him.

"What happened to you?" I ask, morbidly curious. "How did you survive the explosion?"

His smile widens into a disturbing grin that frightens me a little. "You really wanna know?"

I nod my head eagerly, and he motions for me to move closer. I scoot towards him, but apparently that isn't enough. He reaches out his hand, and for a moment he runs his fingers through my hair. My mind goes momentarily numb with shock, but then he jerks my head forward so that our faces are mere inches apart.

"Ow! Danny, what the-" he silences me by pressing his finger against my lips.

"You ask how I survived..." he starts in a whisper that makes my blood run cold. He grabs my hands and holds them firmly in his own, and I suddenly have a very bad feeling in my gut as I realize that I can't feel his pulse. He presses his forehead against mine and looks down at our intertwined fingers with the same look of fascination he'd had when we'd held hands not only a moment ago.

"And the answer is..." I notice that his voice is changing, becoming older-sounding. His skin is turning blue, and I'm thinking he must really be freezing—that is, until his sky blue eyes begin to turn red. His hands start glowing a familiar green color, and my palms abruptly feel very hot.

"I didn't," he breathes. Before I can even process what he said, I am blasted backwards a few yards. I skid across the grass and dirt before I look up and see Danny on his feet, his fists glowing green at his sides. The wind picks up and blows his mess of black hair out of his face. He's grinning at me, shaking like a mad man. His breathing is heavy and ragged, his skin a startling blue-green, his eyes blood red and deranged. I am so confused.

"Danny?" I slur as I slowly stand up, feeling a little dizzy.

"Your precious Danny is gone, Valerie. Phantom's here now!" I freeze at those words, the truth finally dawning on me. And it hurts.

"You're not Danny..." I choke out. I feel violated, betrayed, and grossly deceived by this stranger who had just ripped my heart out of my chest.

"I was, but that human part of me was weak. I wanted to be all ghost, so I decided to, well..." he chuckles, "send Danny's spirit home."

I feel the loss of my only friend hit me once again, but it's quickly extinguished with white-hot anger. "Monster!" I growl at the impostor.

He cackles, reveling in my suffering. "Without his ghost powers, there wasn't much he could do to save himself. It was rather amusing really, watching him struggle... hearing him scream..."

I fight against the urge to lunge at him and claw his eyes out, and I probably would've lost that fight if I wasn't distracted by something he'd said. "What are you talking about, 'ghost powers?'"

"Oh, I love it! You still haven't figured it out, even after all this time!" He laughs wickedly for a moment, and then says, "Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were the same person, Valerie—one boy, two identities!" A glowing ring suddenly appears around his waist, and it divides in two, moving up and down his body to reveal the black and white suit I was so familiar with.

"You're a liar!" I screech at him, but even in my defiance I know he's telling the truth-it makes too much sense.

"Face it, Valerie: Danny was the liar! He was secretive and untrusting, to you of all people, the only friend he had left after the accident."

"No, Danny was a good kid... and then you came along," I hiss through clenched teeth.

He sighs like a parent with a child who won't obey, and a look of exasperation flits across his face before he smiles his rictus grin at me again. When he speaks, his voice shakes like a leaf with suppressed laughter. "You wanna know what Phantom's gonna do now that Danny's out of the picture?" He pauses, as if waiting for me to respond. When all I do is glare, he continues, "He's gonna destroy you and all of Amity Park. And this time, Danny isn't going to save the day."

Valerie recalled how she had never been so repulsed by anything in her life as she had been by Phantom. She reared her bazooka at the scum, powering it up. This was for Danny.

"Been waiting a long time for this. Goodbye and good—"

"Valerie, no!"

"Don't shoot!"

She couldn't believe her ears or her eyes. Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, long-gone best friends of Danny Fenton, were standing right in front of her, shielding Phantom with their arms and hands! She lowered her weapon.

"Sa-am? Tucker? I-it's not possible! This is a trick—you can't be alive!"

She watched with increased shock as Tucker faltered, his eyes widening.

"Wait, not alive? That's our future? I'm definitely not taking the CAT!"

"The CAT," Valerie breathed, remembering the test. "That's the last time I saw you alive. The big explosion at the Nasty Burger... Y-you, Tucker, Danny's family..." She stopped, her eyes growing wide. How dare he do this to her? How dare Phantom conjure illusions of Sam and Tucker to make her remember how it had all gone wrong! Enraged, she pointed her bazooka straight at Phantom's chest. Against her better judgement, she said the one thing she herself believed to be untrue but knew would strike a nerve in Phantom, "And it was all your fault!"

But before she had even placed her finger on the trigger, she was blasted aside. The blow sent her flying all the way across the street to land in a pile of rubble, and somewhere along the way she had lost hold of her bazooka. She opened her eyes to see who had fired at her, and was shocked senseless when she saw Phantom in his true form, floating above the ground and glaring down at the scene.

"Actually, that was me," he corrected, and then he looked at the other Phantom, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "And you, eventually."

Valerie feigned unconsciousness while she tried to make sense of the situation. Phantom had many powers, and among them was the ability to duplicate himself. That must've been what he was doing—creating a scene! Valerie peeked a look and saw Phantom float down to the pavement, placing his hands on his hips.

"Sam and Tucker, it's been a while. Ten years to be accurate." He lifted his arm, a green glow emitting from his hand, and swung it around, freezing Sam and Tucker in place. "So. To what do I owe this little blast from the past?" he asked, not seeming to expect an answer. But then he frowned, his eyes widening as he spotted something around Sam's neck that looked like some kind of pendant. "Clockwork!" he exclaimed, as if it were obvious. "Meddling again."

Valerie held back a gasp at this revelation. She knew of this Clockwork. He was a ghost who could control time. That alone was enough explanation to convince herself that she had gotten this all backwards. She had almost killed Danny! Her friend! The real Danny, the old Danny, the good Danny! The Danny who could fix it all! Within the blink of an eye, she had made her resolution. She fired at Phantom with her ecto-gun, renewed hope for a brighter future flaring inside of her.

The shot hit him, and he crashed into the wall of a building. It didn't keep him down, though. She saw his hand reach through the smoke, and with a wave of his muscular arm he cleared it away to view his attacker.

Feeling confident, Valerie stood tall, the back of one hand that was holding two grenades on her hip, and the other holding up the ecto-gun that was attached to her wrist. She blew away the smoke that was rising from the weapon as it powered down.

She could tell that this made him mad, and he was up and flying in an instant, coming straight toward her. Having expected this reaction, she tossed the two grenades at him, but they passed right through him as he went intangible. She quickly re-activated her ecto-gun and fired shot after shot at him, but he knew her strategies all too well, and he duplicated himself. This confused her, and she tried firing at both Phantom's at once, but he was too quick for her. He had her in his clutches before she even realized she was caught. For a moment, the two enemies looked each other in the eyes, jade meeting crimson, and though Valerie would never admit it to him, she was afraid. In her peripheral vision, she saw Danny break free of the net. She lost sight of him, though, as Phantom lifted her up by the wrist and punched her full in the face with a force that sent her sailing through the air. It was grossly ironic how much this reminded her of that day in the park as she landed on the street with a thud and skidded across the asphalt. A stabbing pain shot through her body as she tried to sit up. Phantom landed in front of her.

"I suppose out of respect for our past I should let you live," he said, and his hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her by her chest straps. "But that's not how I work," he said darkly. He lifted her up and swung her around before throwing her high into the air. She screamed, and she thought she heard someone call out her name, but she was too stunned to match the voice with a face. Then she suddenly felt two gangly arms wrap around her waist, and a strange tingly feeling came over her. The feeling was gone in a few seconds, though, and she and the pair of skinny arms fell to the ground. The force of the fall sent more waves of pain through her already aching body, but she somehow managed to fight off tears and open her eyes. What she saw made her happier than she had ever been in a long time, though she wasn't able to show it.

"You're from the past, aren't you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Danny merely stared at her with those large eyes that had always made her want to smile, and she was thankful that she'd at least gotten to see him, small and boyish and innocent, once more.

"Almost..." she fought to keep her eyes open for just a little longer, "forgot how cute you were back then." She laid her head down and closed her eyes. Before she lost consciousness, she thought one triumphant thought, and she wished that she could've said it to Phantom's face.

You were dead wrong. Danny's gonna save the day.