Disclaimer: Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman and Nick. Not me.

Many thanks to Darth-Frodo for being my siamese fighting fish--er, Beta...

Five o'clock, and the only noise in the large home was the soft chime of the clock as it struck the new hour. A young boy sat at a table by himself, face blank as he stared at his plate. His eyes were puffy and he sniffled occasionally, but he did not cry. A Masters did not cry, but oh, how he wanted to. He could feel them welling in his eyes, fighting to get free, but he wouldn't let them. A Masters did not cry, he repeated to himself, hands clenching into fists so tight it hurt. But when he heard his mother call his name worriedly, his control broke and a strangled sob escaped, followed by a flood of tears as he gave up. He knew he should stop, but he didn't want to anymore, and didn't even stop when he felt his mother scoop him into a hug. He buried his face in her embrace, ignoring the way his glasses bit into his face and the snap of elastic string as she pushed the party hat off his head and hugged him tighter.

"No one came."

The broken whisper through the tears was enough to shatter her own heart. Tears welled in her own eyes as she ran a hand through his dark hair. He shuddered as he tried to control the flow of tears, hands fisted in her blouse, and she cursed his father for teaching him that boys weren't supposed to show weakness. He was nine years old, and already he refused to cry like normal children. That he was and uncontrollably made her heart wrench as she realized just how much today had hurt him. She loosened her grip as he pulled away, pawing at his face to try and hide the evidence of his weakness.

"How come no one came, Mother?"

Not Mom, not Mama. Mother. Unfailingly formal and polite was her boy, her shy, sweet little boy who didn't have any friends because he didn't know how to make them. His father, a gifted surgeon and almost an artist in his field, had no idea how to shape a young boy's fragile mind. He had taken his son and filled his head with all sorts of nonsense that he, in his desperate drive to please the man, adhered to strictly. Sir or Father, never Dad. No crying, because crying meant you were weak, and people would take advantage of any weakness you showed. His manners were impeccable and his speech proper and correct. He was the perfect son to go with the trophy wife, and he was miserable. And so she pondered the question of how to tell a child that no one came to his birthday party because it was very likely that no one liked him enough to bother.

"I don't know, Vladdy," she told him, rubbing his thin arms through his shirt. Even his name alienated him from the other children. What kind of name was Vladimir anyway? They weren't Russian, nor had any delusions of it. His father had chosen the name simply because it sounded grand and pompous; the perfect name for a Masters son. But he didn't realize the kind of stigma a name like that put on a boy Vlad's age among his peers. It was a small wonder why the other children tended to avoid him. His shy nature and infallible politeness were probably misconstrued as aloof arrogance, as if he were too good to participate with the others. But she knew how badly he wanted to, she just wished she knew how to show him how to be a normal boy.

"Tell you what," she announced suddenly, making up her mind. If the other children wouldn't bother to show up for his birthday, she'd make him one. Just the two of them. He looked up, surprised at her announcement and sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up and put on something to play in. We'll go out for ice cream and do something fun, like see a movie. I'll even get you popcorn."

He sniffed again, expression pathetically hopeful. "Really?" His parents never did anything like that.

She nodded, giving his hair one last affectionate ruffle. "Really. I mean it. Go get changed."

He nodded and hugged her, running off to get dressed before she changed her mind. She watched him go, a sad smile on her face. Her little boy, so grown up at nine that he had forgotten how to be a child. She shook her head and went to get changed as well into something more casual. She wanted her baby's birthday to be as special as she could make it, and she didn't want to worry about getting any of her nicer clothes ruined while doing so.

She changed her clothes quickly, heading downstairs where Vlad was waiting patiently, excited and hopeful, but sitting still, his posture straight and hands folded neatly in his lap. "Are you ready, Vlad?"

He nodded, but before he could answer an affirmative, the doorbell chimed through the house. She frowned; she had no idea who that could be. "Wait here, honey." He nodded and settled back on the couch while she went and answered the door. She was surprised to see a boy standing on the front porch, panting and red-faced.

"Missus Masters?" he asked hopefully, holding a large box wrapped roughly in bright red wrapping paper.

She nodded mutely. He was a large child, a little pudgy, and she could see a bike abandoned on the front lawn behind him. She could understand how he could be out of breath and exhausted. "Yes, yes I am," she finally answered. "Can I help you?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, here." He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a crumpled card emblazoned with cheerful designs. She recognized it before she even took it, recognizing the invitations her son had picked out for his party. "I'm Jack Fenton, from Miss Reicher's class? I came for Vladdy's birthday party. I'm sorry I'm late; my mom and dad went ghost hunting, so I had to ride my bike here, then I got lost and had to ask for directions. Did I miss the party?"

Her heart swelled with love for this boy she had never met. That he would do so much for her little boy earned him and his parents endless respect. "I'm sorry," she told him, wishing she didn't have to. "You're the only one that showed up so far. There never was any party."

To her surprise and consternation, he smiled widely. "Great! That means I'm not late!"

She opened her mouth to correct him before she realized what he was actually saying. She smiled and moved out of the door. "Why don't you come in? I'm sure Vlad will be happy to see you."

He bounded in like a puppy with too much energy. "Vladdy!"

The look on her boy's face when he saw his gregarious classmate would stay with her for the rest of her life, one she would treasure like a precious photograph.

She ended up taking both boys for ice cream and a movie, and Jack called for permission to stay overnight when Vlad asked him too. They shared the box of homemade fudge Jack had brought late into the night and discovered that musical chairs could still be fun with just two people. She watched them fondly until they finally collapsed, giggling from the overload of sugar until they finally fell asleep. She pressed a gentle kiss to her baby's forehead and spared another for his friend.

Jack Fenton, she decided, was the best birthday present anyone could have given.