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Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction. I planned it to be a one-shot, but it's turning out to be not as dark as I wanted it, so I'm going to put up a happy ending and a dark alternate ending. Also, I know I wrote Danny a bit ADD-ish, but I think it's possible he might do it to distract himself from the stress. He's got a lot on his mind anyway.
… I think Jazz is rubbing off on me…
Danny Phantom is owned by Butch Hartman in association with Nickelodeon.
Update:This story has been and will continue to be on an indefinite hiatus until such a time as I can sort out my problems with writer's block for this story as well as others. I know I've left this story here for more than a year without an update, and I am truly sorry for that. However, between writer's block and a change in my writing style, I have found it very difficult to continue this. That DOES NOT mean that this is canceled. THIS STORY WILL BE FINISHED. Just not now, or anytime soon. Again, I am very, very sorry for the wait. All I can do is to desperately ask for your continued patience.
Fears
Everybody is afraid of something. Everyone's fear is different. For most people, these fears are mundane things, such as: I'm afraid I might get detention for being late. Or: I hope Dash doesn't stuff me into my locker again. I admit that I was like that before I experienced the Ghost Portal accident that half-killed me, but those are the least of my problems now.
Even now that ghosts are a legitimate fear for others here in Amity Park, I can't really say I'm afraid of ghosts in general, though some specific ones creep me out (I'm looking at you, Frootloop – yes, I know, not really a ghost, but the point stands); I am part ghost myself, after all. I can't afford to be afraid of ghosts when it's my job to use my own ghostly abilities to send them back to the Ghost Zone. Heck, I do my job a lot better than my ghost-hunting parents, not that they'd know that. And that's the root of my problem: they can't ever know, because of what I am.
I'm walking home alone, coming from a long day at school – which was interrupted seven times by ghost attacks, three of which consisted of the Box Ghost ("Beware!") causing annoying but harmless mayhem of the "cardboard and square" variety – when my walk is interrupted by the armored ghost Skulker, who somehow manages to contort his metal faceplate into a demented grin before demanding my pelt (still gross, by the way) and threatening me with all sorts of high-tech weapons. Numerous guns pop out from hidden compartments everywhere on his armored battle suit. I smirk, unimpressed, and, after checking quickly for bystanders, I shift into my ghostly alter-ego, Danny Phantom.
"Come on, Skulker!" I taunt. "We've been at this for, what, a couple years now? I have a lot more important things to worry about, like doing homework, or finding a suitable feline companion for your Frootloop employer!"
"Your juvenile sense of humor will do nothing to save you, ghost child! I will have my prize!"
Another voice rings out, "Not if I destroy him first!" Oh, joy. "Valerie the Ghost Slayer" has arrived. Her sensors must have gone off when I transformed. Thankfully, she must not have seen the actual transformation, as she would otherwise be gibbering about how it was impossible that I was both human and ghost. Nope, still the irrational blind hatred, so I knew she hadn't seen. At least there are some things I can count on in this world.
I somehow manage to fly, dodge, twist, flip, and contort myself out of the way of the ectoplasmic shots fired in the increasingly hazardous three-way slugfest between annoyed human-ghost hybrid, pelt-obsessed metallic ghost, and severely misguided hoverboard-bound hunter, imprisoning Skulker within the Fenton Thermos in the process. All that's left now is Valerie.
"You won't get away from me this time, ghost!"
"Um, how many times have you said that in the past month?"
"This will be the last, I can promise you that!"
"Then you'll have to think of something else to say next time we meet!" I respond without missing a beat. With that, I promptly salute and fly intangibly through the ground, faintly hearing an incoherent frustrated shriek from above. I chuckle halfheartedly, wishing (mentally, of course – I don't want Desiree to overhear) that I could get Valerie to calm down and see that we should be working together.
This is the point at which a deadly combination of my usual bad luck and my boundless stupidity decides to rear its ugly head. I rise through the ground near FentonWorks, still as Phantom and forgetting to go invisible, only for my father Jack to look out the window, grabbing a Fenton Bazooka from who-knows-where and yelling to the high heavens, "I'll get you, Phantom punk, and rip you apart molecule by molecule!" Of course, my mother Maddie (the smarter of the two) hears this and bursts out the front door wielding her own Fenton Bazooka with a determined glint in her eyes. With Sam and Tucker having already walked home, and Jazz being away at college, there's no one to create a diversion for me.
School bullies? No problem. Ghosts? I constantly laugh in their faces. My parents? That's a different story. Incompetent as they can sometimes be, they always have their moments, and in those moments, they are forces to be reckoned with. This is one of their moments, and so I'm having a rare moment of my own: a moment of fear.
I'm not afraid of dying; I'm already halfway there. I would regret subsequently leaving my town unprotected though, ungrateful as its inhabitants are. I can handle pain as well; increased pain tolerance from constantly fighting ghosts renders human bullies like Dash completely harmless to me; I have to pretend to be afraid of him nowadays, for the sake of my secret identity.
My current fear is not fake, and I hastily attempt to retreat. My action is cut short, however, by an ectoblast hitting me square between the shoulder blades, forcing me to the ground face first. After spitting out a wad of grass and dirt, I turn around and look into the eyes of my captors, my own parents, oblivious to my true identity. This is my fear: the risk of them finding out that I'm half-ghost and rejecting me due to being something they hate. And that risk is quickly becoming greater with every step they take toward me as I lose consciousness.