Breaking Dawn
A Danny Phantom Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own Danny Phantom.
"A hero has the power to move the world. A true hero has the power to destroy the world but chooses not to despite what the world thinks of them."-Joseph Patrick Lyons
Chapter 1: Scrutiny
(A/N: By popular demand, I submit forthwith the sequel to my popular DP Fanfic, "Shatterglass." If you, dearest reader, have not yet read it, I would highly recommend you do so; this story will make more sense if you do XD. And I beseech you, please make sure to read the author's note at the end of this chapter, as it has important information concerning my updating schedule. ^^ )
Time, according to Albert Einstein, is relative.
Though in reality the pace of life is never once changed or altered, certain desires, emotions, and events can make years seem like minutes and days last an entire lifetime. When one is filled with desire and anticipation, he is forced to muffle his exuberance as the passing of time slows to a crawl. Life, to him, moves all the slower, as if delighting in making him squirm as he looks forward to the eventual arrival of that special someone or something. But, and to the adverse, once it has finally arrived, it seems to pass with almost unnatural speed before the person's eyes. What he has craved is over before it even seems to begin, and he is left somewhat disappointed that it all happened so fast.
The same principle holds true with dread, unfortunately. When one sees an unpleasant or perhaps even catastrophic event approaching like a thundercloud on the horizon, his heart hangs heavy and his shoulders sag with invisible weight. He is tormented almost to the point of madness as he waits on the edge of what he cannot escape, and his drawn-out days become filled with misery and despair. Indeed, life seems to grow more and more sluggish and unbearably drawn-out, almost in spite of the man's wish to get his inevitable ordeal over with. Whether the loathed occurrence is minutes, hours or years away, its actual arrival takes, for all intents and purposes, nothing less than an eternity.
This last rule was never proven more clearly than in the case of young Danny Fenton.
The ghost boy who had been so cruelly exposed and framed by the late Vlad Plasmius felt water running over his fingers as he leaned over the small sink in the tiny bathroom. The freezing liquid sloshed over Danny's face as he splashed his cheeks in an attempt to ease his mind, but no ease or reassurance rewarded the young man's efforts.
Danny gave a great sigh and turned the faucet off, his breath rapid and shallow with anxiety and barely suppressed fear as he glanced ruefully down at his bruised and battered body. It had been less than a day after his final confrontation with his arch-nemesis, and the bloody badges of courage that Danny had received at the hands of Vlad now marred his flesh forever. The skin of his left forearm, once smooth and unblemished, was now disfigured by the layer of burn tissue that had grown over it, and long, ropy, scars that bore a striking resemblance to lightning bolts now arced down the length of his back. On Danny's shoulder rested the remnants of the gunshot wound he had received in Laredo, a still-tender indentation that had only just healed over with discolored skin. Danny recalled the acrid stench of gunpowder in his nose, the deafening crack in his ear, and the unspeakable agony that had coursed through his veins as the metal slug had burrowed deep into his flesh. Bruises of mottled green, black, and blue covered almost every square inch of Danny's tired and aching form, making even the simplest of movements seem like an almost impossible task, and his balance was unsteady and perilously fragile.
Danny Fenton had almost paid the ultimate price for his fidelity to his fellow man, and now the cost of his sense of duty had been indelibly etched onto him for the rest of his days.
The ghost boy chuckled under his breath, recalling, just hours before, the silent challenge he had made to the world. Bring it on, Danny had said, feeling confident and flushed with the relief of having his name finally cleared.
Now, with utmost prejudice and almost sadistic glee, the world had answered the young hero's challenge in spades. In just moments, he would appear outside the steps of City Hall, the same steps Danny's feet had trod as he'd fled for his life less than a month ago, to face the scrutiny of the world he had almost died to protect.
Danny wanted nothing more than to return to his old life, to go back to the way things had been. He wanted his secret identity to become truly secret once more, wanted to go back to being the unremarkable Fenton kid in the back row of Lancer's class. Danny would have given anything to clean up the mess Vlad had made of his life, and he took a moment to bitterly curse his archenemy under his breath. Though Vlad was dead, and by Danny's own, forced hand, the villain's machinations could never be undone.
In his heart, Danny knew.
There was no going back.
The time would come one day to reveal his secret, and Danny had always known this. But the young hero had wanted that moment to be in a time, place, and location of his choosing. The right had been Danny's and Danny's alone to decide the moment in which to cast off his disguise, but Vlad had, in his infinite malice and cruelty, deprived him of that.
The world now knew that Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same. Every man, woman, and child, from the European continent to Japan and the Far East, had tuned in to their TVs and radios with morbid fascination when the identity of the infamous ghost boy had been unveiled. There was nowhere on Earth that Danny could go to resume, even temporarily, the anonymity he'd thus far enjoyed. No longer could Danny fight the good fight from the safety of the shadows.
And, to be perfectly honest, Danny didn't even want to think about the ordeal that awaited him once he returned to school; between the bullying Dash and the obsessed Paulina, he half-expected to be torn to shreds like a lamb at the slaughter.
The young hero took a deep, shuddering breath, gathering his nerve in preparation for what was to come. It had been made starkly clear to Danny over the course of his forced exile that the eyes of the world were now upon him. Reporters and journalists from every nation of the Earth had congregated to Amity like wolves sensing a kill, and in their hundreds they gathered at the entrance to City Hall, waiting for the long-anticipated appearance of the now-infamous ghost boy. Today, Danny's face would likely dominate every television set, every computer screen, and every mobile phone on the face of the planet.
Danny would have been quite happy to keep himself to himself and shun the light of the media, but Sam and Tucker had impressed upon him the importance of giving his side of the story. Though the young hero had been cleared of all charges in Mayor Sanchez's murder due to new evidence and the testimony of the gruff Agent Brody, Danny knew that his fellow men still held him in fear, awed fascination, or outright contempt. It was human nature to fear what one does not understand, and right now Danny was just about the most misunderstood person in the history of mankind.
A bitter smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered how the rest of the world had been so quick to condemn him, calling for his incarceration or even execution for the crime he had been framed for. How rapidly some of these people had changed their tune, in light of what Brody had unearthed! How many of his bitterest foes had turned to staunch "supporters" in the blink of an eye!
Danny, true to his selfless nature, held no animosity towards these people. He attributed the bigotry he'd endured, and would continue to endure, to a sort of "knee-jerk" reaction after he'd been exposed. Danny understood that he wielded enormous power, and that same power had terrified thousands when he had been branded as a murderer. It was to be expected, if not liked, for people to jump to conclusions, and it was with this in mind that Danny had purged his heart of bitterness.
And yet, though he had forgiven them, the bitter fact of the matter was that Danny was also human and therefore just as prone to stumble or falter. Though he harbored no animosity or ill will, some miniscule, less benevolent and darker part of Danny Fenton would never forget the injustice that had been done to him.
Each day would be a struggle against not only the world, but also against the dark seed of bitterness that even now threatened to germinate in the young man's heart.
"Danny! Hurry up, sweetie!"
The voice of his mother, Maddie Fenton, snapped Danny out of his ruminations. "I'll be right there," he called back through the door, wiping the remnants of the icy water from his face with a brown paper towel. Danny's heart thundered against his ribs as he pushed the restroom door open, but his anxiety was lessened when he found himself immediately surrounded by a small yet supportive circle of those who mattered to him the most. Their faces gentle, their eyes kind, Danny Fenton's friends and family offered silent encouragement for the ordeal that lay ahead of him.
Jack Fenton, clad in his trademark orange jumpsuit, put an arm around his son's shoulders. "We're right behind you, Danny," he said, his face splitting into a huge grin.
"And nothing anyone else says will ever change that," Jazz added.
Someone's fingers laced through Danny's own, and a furious blush broke out over his face as Sam offered her own contribution. He remembered how they had shared their first kiss just that morning, how wonderful it had been, and Danny's heart filled with renewed love for her as the Goth's eyes radiated warmth and care that was uncharacteristic of Sam's fiery personality.
"You don't have to go through with this."
"Yes, I do," Danny said wearily. "Otherwise, they'll never leave us alone."
"They won't leave us alone either way, dude," Tucker pointed out.
"True," Danny admitted. "But maybe this way it won't be as bad. I don't want to have to dodge these people every time I go out of the house."
"Do you want us to come with you, Danny?" Maddie asked.
"No," her son shook his head. "This is something I need to do by myself. I don't want to draw attention to you guys; as long as they're focused on me, you won't have to worry about them. So, um," the teen added uncomfortably, "who exactly am I going to talking to?"
"Everyone," Sam said, her voice filled with sympathy.
"What? You're kidding!"
"Nope," Tucker clarified. "You've caught the eye of every big name in TV and journalism: CNN, Fox, NBC, National Geographic, the Discovery Channel, The New York Times, The Chicago Herald-Tribune, The Houston Chronicle, and even a bunch of foreign conglomerates like BBC and Radio Tokyo are all starting to foam at the mouth out there."
Danny turned pale, but Sam offered him a supportive squeeze as she tightened her grip on his palm. "It'll be okay, Danny," she said quietly. "Don't let them scare you."
"Too late," the boy said, smiling dryly as he approached the front entrance of City Hall. Even through the doors, Danny could hear the deafening roar of all the people who waited for him outside. "But thanks, anyway."
The young hero sucked in another massive, cleansing breath, squared his shoulders, and promptly pushed it open. The wooden door slammed hollowly behind Danny's receding back before blocking him from view completely, and Sam bit her lip with worry…
Meanwhile…
No sooner had Danny Fenton emerged into the warm spring air than he was promptly struck blind by the flashing of thousands of cameras. Brightly colored spots danced frenziedly before the boy's vision, and the effect was so disorienting that Danny had to fight to keep from losing his balance. The cries and shouts of those around him grew to earsplitting proportions as each person strove to be heard over everyone else, and fear momentarily seized Danny's heart as he comprehended at last the sheer enormity of the consequences of his exposure.
The Plexiglas podium which stood at the summit of City Hall's marble stairway was, to Danny, nothing less than an executioner's block, and he fought to keep from swallowing a nervous gulp as he hesitatingly brought the microphone to his mouth.
Silence, instantaneous, stark, and foreboding, abruptly settled in the air.
"Uh…hi," he said lamely, mentally kicking himself.
A ripple of laughter greeted this, and Danny felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. "My name is Danny Fenton," he began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I am fourteen years old, and currently a freshman at Casper High School. My parents are noted ghost experts Jack and Maddie Fenton, and I have one older sister, Jazz."
Without warning, two rings of brilliant, blinding light appeared in the middle of Danny's chest, traveling up and down his entire body and wiping away the now-defunct façade of his human identity. Danny's shirt and jeans were rapidly replaced by a matte-black jumpsuit and combat boots, and the signature "DP" logo that Sam had given him some time before was now clearly visible on the young man's torso. His cerulean eyes now burned a bright, eerie green, and Danny's raven-black hair was suddenly bleached an icy white as cries of alarm and astonishment reached his ears.
The twin rings of transformation suddenly vanished, and Danny Phantom hovered slightly above the ground as he continued, "I wanted to talk to you guys because, to be honest, I don't see the point in trying to maintain a secret identity anymore, and I also want to set the record straight about Mayor Sanchez's death. I'll also answer any, uh, questions you might have. About me, I mean."
"You killed Sanchez, freak!" someone shouted. "What else is there to know?"
"That's not true," Danny replied quietly, trying not to show how much the man's remark had hurt him. "I was framed."
"Yeah?" the heckler sneered. "How?"
"Vlad Masters," Danny replied simply. "Or Vlad Plasmius, as he liked to be called. My friends and I were on a field trip to City Hall when I sensed a ghost-"
"Excuse me, Daniel-san," a man with a heavy Oriental accent asked. "How do you sense ghosts?"
"Well," Danny rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for an appropriate allusion for his ability. "You know how, when you're out on a really cold day, your breathing comes out in a sort of fog? It's kinda like that; when a ghost is around, my breath becomes colder and starts forming into wisps or cloud."
The journalist scribbled furiously on his notepad, and Danny picked up his story. "Anyway, I was guided by my ghost-breath and walked in on Vlad and Mayor Sanchez." The boy's face darkened at the memory. "Vlad had just finished roasting him in his chair."
"Why didn't you stop him?" someone demanded. "You should have gotten there sooner! Some hero you are!"
"Vlad was…different," Danny admitted, doing his best to ignore the stinging jibe. "He was only half-ghost, like me, and because of his human side my ghost-sense didn't detect him as quickly as it would have a full-fledged ghost. Vlad attacked me with the Plasmius Maximus and vanished, and I reverted to my human form in front of the Mayor's security detail."
"What's the Plasmius Maximus?"another person inquired.
"Vlad was a skilled inventor, since he was the head of DALV," Danny replied. "The Maximus was a device that was built to temporarily cancel out my ghost powers and force me to change back. He timed it perfectly, framing me and exposing me at the same time."
"If you were innocent, why run?"A reporter with a thick Boston accent piped up.
Danny's eyes turned to him, and his voice was just a little bit colder. "Who would've believed me?"
"Point taken," the Bostonian nodded.
"What did Vlad have against you?" another journalist inquired.
"Vlad holds an old grudge against my father," Danny shrugged. "He got his powers in an accident, like me, and he blamed Dad for what happened to him."
"What kind of accident gave you these powers?" a woman asked instantly.
"I'd rather not say," the young man told her, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "It's still classified."
"Where is Vlad Plasmius now?" A gravelly, older person demanded. "Did he escape?"
Danny fought not to stiffen, and he forced back the waves of nausea at the memory of what the archvillain had forced him to do. His brain swam as the terrible deed replayed before his eyes with blinding speed…
The iron rebar, plunging into Vlad's chest…His triumphant smirk…his last, final taunt…
"Well done, Daniel. Well done, indeed…"
And blood…Blood, everywhere….
Something unseen forced Danny back to the present, and he looked the speaker in the eye. "He's dead," the young man answered flatly.
There was a palpable moment of uncomfortable silence before a blonde-haired anchor for CNN caught Danny's attention. "Mr. Fenton, what sort of powers do you have?"
Danny looked somewhat hesitant to answer this one. He did not want to look as though he were boasting or bragging. "Well…enhanced speed, strength, and endurance. I can turn invisible, walk through solid objects, and fly. I can also use ectoplasm-"
"Ecto-what?"
"Ectoplasm," Danny elaborated, conjuring a small, glowing green sphere in his hand before stretching it out into a transparent, shield-like screen. "Ghostly energy. I can create and manipulate it into all sorts of things: projectiles, solid objects, and stuff like that. I can do the same thing with ice-"
"Ice?" the reporter stared. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," Danny made an effort to look modest as he placed his palm upon the podium and promptly covered it in a thin, web-like layer of feathery frost. "That one's relatively new. Great for chilling a soda, though."
Ribald laughter greeted this comment, and Danny felt enormously relieved as the mood began to lighten somewhat.
"What does it feel like when you transform?" a short, squat man asked in an English drawl.
The ghost boy had to think about the answer to that one. "I guess…It's like dying, but only halfway. My heartbeat and breathing slow down, my reflexes quicken, and pain becomes a lot more bearable because my nerves become less sensitive. I can go for longer without food and water than I usually could, but if my body needs to rest or eat the need is multiplied when I change back."
"Mr. Fenton, what made you decide to take up ghost-hunting? Weren't you scared that you'd be killed?"
Again, Danny fought to keep the blood from leaving his face as he recalled how close he had come to perishing at the hands of Vlad Plasmius. He could still hear the Soul Shredder's deadly song as it swept toward his exposed neck. "Well, if not me, then who?" Danny asked after a moment. "But I'm not gonna lie to you guys: I was afraid, and I still am afraid. Anyone would be scared of dying; you just get used to the fear after a while."
"What will you do, now that your secret is out?"
"To be honest, I'd like to finish high school, for starters," Danny grinned ruefully. "Between that and ghost-hunting, I think my schedule will be pretty full."
A chorus of angry shouts greeted this remark, and though they were relatively few in number compared to the size of the crowd, their hateful words cut deeply.
"We don't need you to protect us, freak!" an unseen bigot shrieked.
"You're the cause of all of this!"
"I don't care what the kid says! I still think he murdered Sanchez! He's lying!"
"Go away and die, freak!"
"You don't belong here!"
"You're just a ghost! Why should we trust you?"
Danny fought to control the anger and hurt that made his heart plunge into his innards-
-But then, from somewhere within the packed ranks of humanity, an outraged man called out his support for Danny. "What is wrong with you people?" he demanded. "Amity would have been overrun by ghosts a dozen times over if the kid hadn't shown some responsibility!"
"Yeah!" a second supporter, a woman this time, cried out shrilly. "Danny's already been through the ringer! Just look at him! God, you are such ingrates!"
"Leave him alone! He's just a boy!"
"You racist bigots!"
Inwardly, Danny glowed at the fact that there were people who genuinely appreciated him, and he was amazed and utterly grateful as the prejudiced catcallers either fell silent or slunk away. A sigh of relief and happiness filled his lungs, and the feeling was so overwhelming that he had to clutch the rim of the podium for support.
"So, uh, thank you all for your time," he said eagerly snapping up the opportunity to bring the interview to a close. "I'd like to stay longer, but I've got about five weeks of homework with my name on it."
Another round of rippling, sympathetic laughter was heard as Danny darted back inside like a turtle into its shell, and one glimpse of the look on the young man's face told his loved ones all they needed to know.
"That bad, huh?" Tucker asked cheerfully.
Danny's entire body sagged. "Let's never do that again, okay?"
"You wouldn't have time even if you did," Sam teased him mercilessly. "Tomorrow's a school day."
The young hero resisted the urge to cradle his head in his hands.
"Don't remind me…"
A/N: I know what you're all thinking, and yes, I am well aware that I pushed back the publication date of this story. But for God's sake, I KNOW that if I don't crank out at least ONE chapter of it I'm gonna lose what little is left of my sanity. XD However, I wanna be honest with you guys right up front: I can by no means guarantee that I will be able to update as rapidly as I would like. Final exams are rapidly approaching, and even after school is out I will be bound for a month-long vacation in Canada. (Yeah, Mom and Dad, I absolutely can't stand the cold, but I think a trip to CANADA would be just fine. _) The journey, though I'm sure it will be thrilling, will take almost a month, and being so far up north I can't say for certain that I will always have access to the Internet. I will try my damnedest to write as many chapters as I can, but, again, I can make no predictions as to when the next installment will be up. Rest assured that I will resume my regular updating schedule as soon as things settle down; on THAT, you have my solemn oath. The theme of this story, by the way, is "Path" by "Apocalyptica." You can find it on Youtube, under the username, "senshizelda."
Your humble servant,
-Quill N. Inque
