Dizgirl: Hiya! This here is my first (if you don't count my Dream Themes) DP oneshot! Yay! It's kind of odd, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope the same goes for your reading. Come and meet Gus Stanson as he encounters the ghost boy for a very interesting story (or so I hope). Enjoy and love! Disclaimer? See my profile.

The Ghost Who Cried Boy

"The temperature around him dropped and his breath came out in white puffs as he stood rooted to the spot. He knew he wasn't alone in the room. Something was there, watching him, waiting for his next move. As he held the jewelry box higher, he could hear something whispering softly. He whipped around to face the door but there was nothing behind him. When he returned his gaze to the intricately carved box, there stood before him a young girl in a pale blue dress. Her hair hung in dark curls around her face, but her icy eyes were boring into his."

"Oh no! Run!"

"Sssh! I can't finish the story if you keep interrupting me, Gus."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Now let's see…her icy eyes were boring into his.

'She didn't mean to,' the girl whispered. Chills ran down his spine. 'But she did it and she never said sorry. Never.' She shook her head and floated closer to him as he felt her anger rise. He dropped the box and the lid opened. Soft music started playing and a little plastic ballerina twirled on its side. The ghost—for that was what the girl was—gasped, mesmerized by the spinning dancer.

'My sister…' she murmured faintly. 'This is my sister's.' He shook his head, fighting the urge to run. If he did, she'd never leave this house.

'She meant to give it to you as an apology, but you died,' he replied. The ghost looked up into his eyes and then back down to the box."

"Oh!"

"Sssh! 'She was going to…?' the girl asked.

'Yes,' he answered, hoping she'd believe him. The girl held the box and stood up. Looking past him, she smiled. Another girl, just a few years older stepped out from behind him to stand beside the little girl.

'Thank you,' she said, her voice echoing as she dissolved into thin air with her sister. She was gone. She moved on to the next world as all ghosts want to do. Now she can rest in peace."

"Cool! What about the man?"

"He probably went back to his normal life. Maybe he decided to help more ghosts move on. That's why they come here, you know. Ghosts and spirits only come to our world because they have left something behind unfinished. They're here to complete a purpose, but whether to help or to hurt depends on the ghost. Remember that, Gus. Maybe someday you'll have to help a ghost too."

----------------------------------------

Gus whistled softly to himself as he walked along the wide concrete pathway in front of five large warehouses. He twirled his flashlight in one hand and glanced up at the starry night sky before looking at his watch. It was ten twenty-three, just an hour and a half into his work shift and he already wanted it to be over. Gus didn't mind his job as a security guard for the warehouses down at Amity Park's docks, but it left him with hours of time where he just sat and waited for something interesting to happen. Besides a few cases of delinquent teen gangs and one odd instance with a ghost who continuously demanded to have all of the boxes stored in one of the warehouses, nothing changed from each monotonous day to the next.

Grimacing, Gus turned to his left and made his way around the back of an old mattress warehouse, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Despite his frustration, he took his job seriously. No one was going to get past him while he was on duty. He would hold strong to the end until his retirement in about six years. Maybe before he left, something would make the twenty three years he worked there seem worthwhile. Maybe.

A flicker of light in the sky broke Gus's thoughts and he looked up, instinctively raising his flashlight. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the small figure floating above him. It was none other than the ghost boy, Danny Phantom. Gus gasped, dropping his flashlight. The echoing thud rang through the empty docks, but Phantom didn't even flinch. Instead he floated sluggishly downward, drifting slowly towards the second story of the nearest warehouse. He was clutching his side tightly and Gus could see a faint glitter of green between the ghost's white-gloved fingers. He gaped as the boy disappeared through the wall, his green eyes half-closed and dull. Phantom didn't even seem to know where he was going.

Gus continued to stare at the place where the boy had phased through the wall, struggling to come to terms with what he had seen. The ghost boy, Danny Phantom, had just come out of the sky and had flown straight into an old warehouse, looking like he was near death—except he was already dead of course. What would bring the ghost to the edge of town? Why was he hurt so badly? More importantly, who had hurt him so badly? Gus looked wildly around as panic shot through his heart. Was the attacker nearby, calculating his next move? Gus knew that plenty of ghosts fought with Phantom on a regular basis. Who had it been this time and where were they now?

The night sky twinkled innocently, devoid of anything ghostly. Gus's forehead wrinkled in confusion and slight concern as he stood there silently, wondering if he should return to the safety of the security station or find out what the ghost boy was doing in the warehouse. Going to the station would be the smart thing to do but maybe Phantom needed help. Despite most people's feelings that the young ghost teen was a menace, he felt there was much more to the boy than others were willing to consider.

It was probably due to the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. Ghosts were not to be feared; they were there to help you or they needed your help. Of course, living in Amity Park had made it very difficult for Gus to still believe that, but he tried all the same. Phantom at least seemed to have the right idea. Gus wasn't sure what was keeping him from passing on, but at least he was helping people out even when many didn't believe so.

Picking up his flashlight, he cautiously moved towards the warehouse Phantom had entered. He managed to find a back door and the key that fit the heavy lock. The door opened with a low creak and Gus stepped into the darkened first floor. He swept his flashlight around him, checking the area for any sign of the ghost boy. Nothing glowed among the packing crates and rusting machinery that took up most of the bottom level. Coughing on the dust filled air, Gus moved towards the metal stairs leading up the second level.

A sudden noise from above him stopped Gus in his tracks. He aimed his flashlight upward, the beam of light gliding over the rotting wooden floorboards. Nothing moved and he continued on, keeping his gray eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. When he reached the stairs, Gus paused, listening intently. The warehouse was silent and this worried him. Was the ghost boy still here or had he continued on through the front wall and into the night? There was only one way to find out. Heaving himself up the staircase as quietly as he could, Gus made it to the second floor. Huffing softly, Gust stopped again, this time to catch his breath.

"I'm getting too old for this…" he mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. They snapped open as he heard a soft groan come from ahead of him. He looked up and waved his flashlight over the dusty tops of more boxes and crates.

"Anyone there?" Nothing answered but Gus knew he had heard someone. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "Anyone there? Come on, let me help you." He started walking forward, trying to keep his footsteps quiet so he could hear an answer. The warehouse was silent again.

"I know you're there," Gus called impatiently. In response a brilliant flash of light appeared to his left behind several boxes with the word 'fragile' stamped on them, making him jump. After calming down he crept forward, holding his flashlight in front of him. He paused once he reached the edge of the nearest box that hid Phantom from sight. Swallowing hard, he gripped his flashlight tightly in one hand and stepped around the box, gasping again at the sight before him.

It wasn't Phantom. Instead, a young teen laid sprawled out on his side, his face pale in the glow from the flashlight. One of his arms gripped his abdomen from beneath his shirt tightly, while the other rested limply at his side. Gus dropped to his knees beside the boy, propping his flashlight on a nearby crate so the light fell over the both of them.

Why was a teenage boy in this warehouse? How did he get here? Gus had been patrolling the area since nine and the guard before him didn't mention any teenagers hanging around. The teen couldn't have passed their security and yet here he was. The older man inhaled sharply as a thought crossed his mind, filling his head with the old ghost stories his mother used to tell him. Maybe Phantom wasn't even hurt or here anymore. Maybe he had led Gus to this boy instead. The idea sent chills down his back, but a smile spread hesitantly across his face; Phantom was a good ghost after all.

"Hey," Gus shook the boy's shoulder gently. "Hey boy, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here; you should be at home." The dark-haired boy groaned and pulled away from his hand, curling up on his side. Gus's brow furrowed.

"Boy, you cannot stay here. You need to go home!" He grabbed the boy and twisted him around until he was almost on his back. The teen's face contorted into a grimace and he shuddered under Gus's hands. The older man let go of the teen as he realized something was wrong. Had this been why Phantom had led him here? Was this boy hurt?

"What's happened to you? Are you hurt?" The boy opened his glazed blue eyes half-way, but didn't seem to understand what Gus was asking. Instead he closed his eyes, and tried to pull away again.

"Boy, open your eyes. Stay awake and tell me what's wrong!" He demanded, shaking the teen again. "You need to stay conscious!" Gus pulled out his radio attached to his belt and held it up to his mouth.

"Dirk," he called clearly into the radio. In seconds, his fellow night guard replied.

"What's up?"

"I need you to call an ambulance right now. Tell them to come to warehouse three upstairs and in the back. I have a kid up here who seems pretty out of it," Gus stated quickly, turning back to the pale teen.

"Wait, what?!" Dirk asked in alarm.

"Just call nine one one!" Gus ordered. "If you don't, this kid might be in some serious trouble!" He dropped the radio at his side, focusing on the boy again.

"I need you to open your eyes and tell me what's wrong." Two blue eyes met his, though it seemed like a great effort for him to do so. Gus smiled encouragingly. "That's right. Now where does it hurt?" The teen curled up on his side again. Gus started to pull him back but stopped as he watched the boy loosen his grip on his abdomen. His hand fell away, hitting the floor with a soft thud. The older man gasped for the third time that night.

The hand was covered in blood, bright red in the glow from the flashlight, but it was the wound on his side that sent a wave of nausea through Gus's stomach. The nasty-looking gash was deep and jagged, a stab wound by the looks of it. It bled freely, slowly soaking the teen's white shirt and dripping down his back.

"Boy…! What have you been doing?!" Gus whispered hoarsely. The teen squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing another moan. The older man sat there helplessly, unsure of what to do next. He didn't have any training in first aid—at least for something this—and the wound looked fatal. A crackling pop on his radio reminded Gus that at least an ambulance was on the way. He leaned over the boy, shaking his shoulder again.

"Hey, can you tell me your name? That way I can get a hold of your parents," he said gently. The boy sucked in air through clenched teeth, wrapping his arms around the wound again. He mumbled something Gus couldn't catch.

"Louder. Say it again."

"D-Danny," the teen whispered.

It felt like Gus's heart stopped for a moment when he realized what he had said. His name was Danny…. The older man fell back against one of the dusty crates, eyes wide. Phantom, Danny Phantom had really come here to save this boy. What else could explain the startling coincidences? Both boys looked about the same age, had wounds in similar places, and were both named Danny! His mother's stories swirled around Gus's mind. The ghosts would lead people to where they needed to be, to where someone needed them. Phantom had led him here to this boy Danny. He was good, and now Gus could do his share too. He pushed himself to his knees and leaned over the dark-haired teen.

"Danny…" he trailed off as he heard sirens blaring in the distance. His heart leapt and Gus jumped to his feet. "The ambulance is here." He turned back to the boy, who seemed to have fallen unconscious. His grip was slack and his breathing had deepened, though it was ominously laborious.

"Stay with me, boy!" he called, half-listening as the sirens grew louder. "Stay with me! I need you to tell me your last name too!" But Danny was unresponsive. Gus's forehead wrinkled in worry.

"What's your last name?!" The sound of screeching tires and men's voices reached his ears and Gus turned to the nearest window. Red and blue lights cut through the dusty glass and played across the rafters of the warehouse. He started for the stairs just as the back door banged open.

"Up here!" he yelled as loudly as he could, coughing on dust he stirred up into the stale air. "The boy is up here!" Paramedics with large bags appeared below Gus, racing for the stairs. He quickly returned to where Danny lay and picked up his flashlight. He waved it in the air and watched as two men moved towards him, weaving their way through the large boxes. He stumbled back out of the way as they surrounded the teenager and started examining him. A woman joined the group and quickly turned towards Gus.

"You were the one who called us?" Gus nodded.

"Yes ma'am…well my co-worker did, but I found the boy up here," he replied, anxiously watching the paramedics work on Danny. "Will he be all right?"

"We'll do our best. Can I ask you a few questions?"

The next hour passed in a whirl of urgent whispers, flashing lights, and interrogations. Gus followed the crew to the hospital, half because he wanted to make sure Danny survived and half because the police wanted to question him. He answered as honestly as he could, glazing over the reason he checked the warehouse in the first place. The skepticism of the general public had taught him discretion when it came to ghost stories no matter how true he believed they were. Luckily the police did not press him for a more detailed version of his story as they were more focused on who exactly the teen was. All Gus could tell them was Danny's first name.

Then, after the boy had been stabilized, a nurse suddenly recognized Danny as one of her patients from over a year ago. Apparently he had been in an electrocution accident in his parents' lab. When Gus found out whom the parents were he couldn't help but laugh dryly at the irony. Danny was Danny Fenton, son of the famous ghost hunters Jack and Maddie Fenton. If only they knew that their son had been saved by a man who was following a ghost, much less the one they had hunted for the past year!

The Fenton house was called and within minutes—to everyone's surprise and alarm—the parents were running through the emergency room, asking if their son was okay. Gus left them to the doctors and instead rose to leave. But he had only made it a few feet down the hallway when the lady from the ambulance stopped him.

"Hey, you can't leave until you talk to the parents. They'll want to thank you," she said. A slight smile graced her face as she nodded to the large form of Mr. Fenton and the slim figure of his wife.

"I've seen cases like this before and the parents always want to talk to the person that found their kid. Just wait a few minutes, will ya?" Gus doubted there had ever been a case like this before but he wasn't about to bring that up. He nodded and returned to his plastic seat. Sure enough, Danny's parents made their way over to him after visiting their son.

"Gus Stanson?" Maddie asked hesitantly. Gus stood up and shook her hand.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, turning to shake Jack's hand. He winced slightly as the large man engulfed his hand within an iron grip.

"Thanks for finding our boy!" Jack grinned, though his forehead remained creased with worry. Maddie nodded in agreement.

"If you hadn't found him, the doctors say he probably wouldn't have made it. I don't know how we could thank you enough," she agreed. Gus shook his head.

"There's no need. I'm just glad I could help."

"But—I don't want to sound ungrateful—but how did you find him? I mean, in a warehouse?" Jack gripped his wife's shoulder tightly as both waited for Gus's response. The older man hesitated, unsure of how they would respond. Then again, telling them the truth could possibly save Danny Phantom a string of unnecessary fights with the couple. He squared his shoulders, determined to set the two ghost hunters straight.

"It was Danny Phantom, ma'am." Silence followed these words as the Fentons gaped at him, obviously not expecting that answer.

"That—that piece of ectoplamsic scum hurt our son?!" Jack exclaimed loudly, raising two gloved fists in front of him. Gus leaned back in alarm, quickly realizing his mistake. Quailing slightly under the murderous looks from both parents he hurried to correct himself.

"No no! He didn't hurt your boy at all! He actually helped him! I saw him go into the warehouse and I wanted to see why so I followed him inside. Then he was gone but I heard something upstairs and I went up there and found Danny. Phantom didn't come near your boy!" If anything the Fentons' faces hardened.

"He must have hurt our boy before you came in!"

"We're gonna rip that ghost punk apart, molecule by molecule!"

"You don't understand! He was showing me where your boy was. Phantom led me to Danny!" Gus continued desperately, wondering how he was going to convince them. Maddie shook her head.

"How can you be sure? How can you be sure he wasn't hurting our Danny?"

"Because Phantom was hurt too!" Silence returned as Maddie and Jack exchanged apprehensive looks. Truthfully Gus was certain Phantom had only looked hurt to make him check out the warehouse but that might be too much for the skeptical hunters.

"He was hurt?"

"By another ghost, maybe?" Gus looked between the two, relieved momentarily by their distracted expressions. Eager to keep them calm, he persisted.

"I didn't see another ghost, but Phantom was hurt badly—almost as badly as your son. I don't think he could've hurt Danny if he tried!" he stated firmly. Maddie's forehead wrinkled, obviously thinking deeply. Jack shrugged and shook his head, watching his wife carefully.

"Why—how could both the ghost boy and our son be in the same warehouse? Why would they both be there?"

"I don't know," Gus answered, shaking his head. "But I do know that both were injured, almost in the same place too. They could've been attacked by someone else."

"Like who?" Jack wondered. "Who would want to hurt both Danny and the ghost?" All three of the adults fell into silence, baffled by the situation. If they weren't ghost hunters, Gus might have tried his theory involving the old ghost stories, but the Fentons obviously thought the worst of Phantom. How could he possibly convince them of the existence of good ghosts when they battled them everyday?

"I'm sorry I can't help, but I don't think Phantom hurt your boy. Maybe…maybe you could ask him," Gus shrugged and turned to leave. "Now that I know Danny is okay I'll go home. If you need to talk to me, the police got my information."

He walked down the hallway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling for once that he had really done some good, despite the slightly alarming conversation with the Fentons. His job was a quiet one, but at least for once he had the chance to play the hero. Of course he only did so because of Phantom. If Gus had been hesitant before about the ghost boy, he wasn't now. Phantom was definitely good in his book. In fact, maybe Gus would tell his grandchildren this story…and maybe some of the others his mother told him too.