Hi guys!

This story has been sitting on my computer half-finished for almost a year now. I'm suddenly excited about it again so it's time to finish writing it once and for all! :) It will include all the characters from the show (Danny's family, sam, etc) not just Tucker, but I am centering it a little more around Danny's friendship with Tucker.

I have the next chapter written but not edited, so it shouldn't take too long to get that up, but the rest might take some time. :D

Okay, hope you enjoy! :)

~cosette141

Danny wiped cold sweat from his brow, and leaned against the building behind him. He pressed his hands on his knees, panting as he floated in mid-air around the tenth story of an apartment complex. Moonlight cast his snow-white hair in a sheen glow, and glinted off the Fenton thermos in his hand. He lifted his head, and asked, between gasps, "Was that… the last… one?"

The Fenton Phones crackled in his ear, and Tucker pulled out his PDA, the light glinting in the darkness where he and Sam stood on the street below. "Check, and check." He yawned audibly and canted his head back toward where Danny hovered. "Finally."

"Great," muttered Sam, muffling her own yawn with her hand. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the pavement. "Now, can we please go to bed?"

"Ghost fighting first, sleep later, Sam." tsked Tucker. "You know the—" He made an oof sound over the headsets and Danny was pretty sure he saw Sam land her elbow into his gut. "Okay, sleep it is." They both picked up their scooters from the sidewalk.

Danny sighed in his own exhausted relief and pushed off the building to fly home. "Thank god. I thought this night would never—"

Danny's words were cut harshly off as something hard and sharp struck him in the stomach. It sliced across his skin, cutting the suit and into his abdomen. He cried out, the force of the hit driving him backward into the apartment building, shattering a window.

"Danny!"

Dazedly, Danny heard his friends shouting at him through the Phones, but his head pounded far too much to hear anything through the muddled pain. He raised a hand to his head, groaning. He barely had time to realize he was falling toward the pavement.

-.-.-.

"Danny!"

Tucker and Sam ducked as the broken glass from the window Danny slammed into showered down on them. Tucker felt Sam grab his jacket sleeve and yank him out of the downpour.

"Danny," whispered Sam breathlessly, eyes glued to the falling figure of their best friend. Tucker picked himself off the ground and ran.

He caught Danny just in time, nearly bridal-style, but Danny's altitude forced his weight into Tucker and they both slammed into the pavement.

Tucker cringed, his head nearly whiplashing on the ground. His back took most of the fall. He felt Danny's dead weight on his chest, pinning him down. Tucker lifted his head off the ground, ignoring that his hat didn't follow. Danny's head rested on his chest, but his eyes weren't open. He was out cold.

"Danny?" asked Tucker frantically, pressing a finger into Danny's forehead. "Dude? You… you okay?"

Danny didn't respond.

Tucker heard Sam's pounding footsteps behind him at the same moment he suddenly felt wet. He glanced down, realizing a green ooze was leaking over himself and the pavement.

Ectoplasm.

His heart shot into a frenzy. Danny was bleeding. A lot. "Danny!" he almost shouted. He grabbed his friend's shoulder and shook it, hard. "Dude, wake up!"

"Is he okay?" came Sam's panicked voice. She reaches out and started to carefully pull Danny off of Tucker's chest. Danny's weight was freezing, and warm air quickly filled its place as Sam transferred him to the ground. The moment she did, white light encased Danny's waist, changing Phantom back to Fenton.

He still didn't stir.

"Oh my god," she breathed, eyes drawn to the growing pool of dark blood. But even in the darkness, they could tell the green ectoplasm was beginning to turn crimson.

Tucker pulled himself onto his knees, ignoring the fact that he was practically covered head to toe in Danny's blood. He looked at his friend, now noticing the sizable gash from where his shirt exposed it; the cut was nasty, still bleeding now-red blood onto the pavement. Tucker's heart cantered. "He's… he's okay." He looked panicked at Sam. "He's okay, right?"

Sam responded by slapping Danny on the face. "Danny!"

Danny flinched.

Both Tucker and Sam released a breath as his eyes flickered open. He coughed lightly, groggily lifting his head. His hand sluggishly found his side and he winced, looking down at it. His eyes widened at the blood. "Ugh… wha' hit me?"

Trying to ignore the slur in his words, Tucker swallowed hard. "I… I don't know."

"Yeah," muttered Sam, briefly looking toward the sky. "What the hell did hit you?"

Danny lifted a hand and gingerly touched the wound. The moment his fingers made contact, he gasped and tore them away.

"Crap," muttered Sam.

"What?" asked Tucker, a slight whine entering his voice.

"Danny's not in ghost form," she said, looking at him. "He heals faster in ghost form."

"Still heal pretty fast as a human," said Danny sleepily. He shut his eyes and his head slowly titled toward the ground.

"No!" Sam slapped his cheek again and he snapped his eyes open. "No sleeping, Danny!"

Danny lazily rolled his eyes at her. "Bossy."

"Look, we have to get this taken care of." said Sam, turning to Tucker. "My house is further than FentonWorks. Jazz has a first aid kit in her room—we'll have to wake her up."

Danny groaned. "No, guys—I'll… I'll heal fine, okay? If we tell Jazz she's just gonna… gonna fuss all over me…"

"Danny, you sound drunk," snapped Sam. "You are not fine."

"I'm with your girlfriend on this one, dude," added Tucker. He ignored the "I'm not his/She's not my girlfriend" responses from his friends and risked another look down at the blood. "Um, dude, can you walk?"

Danny bit his lip, then tried pushing himself off the ground. He yelped and fell back to the pavement. "That's a no," he said, barely audibly.

Tucker and Sam helped pull Danny slowly and carefully to his feet, sharing his weight between them. They started their slow walk toward FentonWorks. Danny cringed with every step, dragging his feet. Too bad he's not in ghost form, thought Tucker. He only weighs like forty pounds as a ghost.

Danny's head hung low over his chest, his breathing loud and labored. "Agh—damn, that… that stings—" His face was pinched and white.

"We're almost there, dude," said Tucker quickly. They made it to the door, and Sam left Danny hanging onto Tucker as she slipped her personal FentonWorks key—not that she was given a personal key—into the lock and opened the door. She rushed back to her two best friends and grabbed her half of Danny's weight.

"Try not to bleed all over your carpet," said Tucker, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I'll keep… that in mind," was Danny's forced reply.

Their journey across the living room and up the stairs—oh, god, the stairs—was painfully slow. By the time they reached Jazz's bedroom door, Tucker's shoulders were burning by how much Danny was leaning on him.

Sam opened Jazz's door and Tucker dragged Danny inside. He wound an arm around Danny's torso, holding him as upright as he could manage without Sam. He watched as the goth shook Jazz awake.

"Jazz," she hissed to the sleeping redhead.

"No—a B?" mumbled Jazz sleepily. "But I studied—"

"Jazz!"

Jazz shot upright, whipping her head toward Sam and clutching her blanket close to her chest. "Wha—Sam?" She rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Three a.m.," said Sam quickly. "Look, we need to know where you keep that extensive first aid kit."

Jazz's eyes immediately sharpened. "Why? What's wrong? Where's Danny?"

"'M right here, Jazz," mumbled Danny, in a much less sober voice than he had a minute ago. Tucker shook him slightly, making him blink his eyes open wider.

"Danny!" she hissed. Jazz jumped out of bed and rushed over to him, turning on a dim lamp with a click. "What—oh my god, Danny, what happened to you?!"

"Shh!" chided Sam. "We don't need your parents busting in here!"

Jazz ignored her, staring at the now-red stains on Danny's t-shirt. Tucker led Danny to Jazz's bed and relieved his burning arm from its duty. Danny fell back on the comforter with a cringe.

"'S not that bad, guys," whispered Danny to the room. "I heal fast."

"Not in human form, you don't!" snapped Sam. Her face was whiter than normal, and Tucker could tell she was shaking.

"Still faster than normal," Danny tried.

Jazz pulled a big, white first aid box out from underneath her bed, unwinding a roll of gauze. "I told you to tell me when you were going out patrolling, Danny!"

"I was with Sam and Tucker," whined Danny vaguely, cringing as Jazz lifted his shirt away from his wound. The cut was jagged and still bleeding fresh blood. Tucker resisted the urge to gag.

"Yeah?" said Jazz. "And look at what happened to you!"

"I don't even know what happened to me," said Danny, then gasped as Jazz dabbed antiseptic over the cut. Danny's hand fisted in the comforter.

"It was weird," said Tucker distantly. "Something hit him. But I have no idea what it was or where it came from."

"Holy crap, Tuck!" said Sam suddenly. She lifted the corner of the sleeve of his shirt. He looked down and realized he was still drenched in Danny's ectoplasm, nearly head to toe. Sam's fingers seemed to find the only patch of his shirt that wasn't dripping in glowing green.

"Aw, man!" whined Tucker, pulling off his hat, just now remembering how much his clothes have been destroyed. His hat seemed mostly untouched by the ghost-blood, and he heaved a sigh of relief and placed it back on his head. He glanced down at his arms, his face turning nearly a matching shade of green."Ugh, it's gonna take, like, six showers to get this stuff out…"

"Sorry, Tuck," said Danny softly, visibly trying to keep his eyes open.

"Well," said Jazz, wrapping the gauze around Danny's torso. "The bleeding seems to be slowing down."

"Told you," said Danny quietly. His eyes drooped. "C'n we go to sleep now?"

Jazz's face softened at the little-boy quality in his face. "Sure, little brother. But you have to let me take a look at that in the morning."

Tucker and Sam walked Danny back to his bedroom; he was still too exhausted to phase through the wall. He dropped on his bed gracelessly, releasing a gasp of pain.

Sam's hand shot for his shoulder. "Danny, are you sure you're okay?"

Danny groaned, cracking one eye open, meeting Sam's. Tucker shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling—again—like the the third wheel of his two best friends. He fought the urge to whistle casually when Danny said, "You don't have to worry so much. I'll be fine, Sam."

Sam's hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment more, then she took it back and she and Tucker turned to go. His voice hoarse and quiet, Danny said, "Thanks, guys."

Tucker and Sam shared a knowing look. Tucker shrugged, grabbing Danny's door to pull it shut. Meaning every word, Tucker said, "What are friends for, dude?"

"Damn it, he's gone."

Agent K glared at the tracker in his hands, monitoring the heat signatures below him. They'd been locking into Phantom's freezing signature moments ago. Their weapon had hit him head on, then he disappeared. K looked down over where he hovered above the street, only seeing a couple of teenagers up way past their bedtime. He turned toward his partner. "Did you get it?"

Agent O held out a hand, waiting for the small silver disc to land in his palm. Moonlight glinted off the metal as they floated in their sleek, Guys In White brand hovercrafts. Agent O looked down at the disc. Its blades were slick with fresh ectoplasm. He held it up in the moonlight, grinning sickly at Agent K.

"Oh," he said. "I got it." He looked down after where Phantom disappeared into the shadows of the alley. "That ghost kid might have disappeared tonight, but by tomorrow, he's ours."