A/N: BIG THANK YOU TO ECTOLIME ON TUMBLR FOR BETA-ING! ectolime . tumblr . com

Thank you! Although I replied to your ask before I had fixed the problems, so I was working just off of memory. Oops. :'3

Post- PP (in which I uphold the theory that only those in Antarctica know his secret and are sworn to secrecy because I just hate the idea of everyone knowing), Danny/Valerie. Basically the same as "Starting Over" but with less action

Almost

"In other news, the controversial, ghost-oriented branch of the government claims it has insider information on the 'Danny Phantom' situation in Amity Park, one of the association's most infamous sites regarding ghost-activity…"

Danny rolled his eyes. "More like the only site for ghost activity," he mumbled bitterly.

"Sources have confirmed that nearly one hundred people, both residents of the city and other outside government officials, now know the whereabouts and so-called 'secret identity' of the teenage ghost, but that they are under oath not to dispel such information to any sources who might otherwise harm the notorious 'hero.'"

He didn't bother looking up from his crossword, even as his friends nervously turned to him. He muttered, "That's right. No one tells or there'll be hell to pay."

"A rogue sector of the agency, however, is reportedly offering one million dollars as a starting price for anyone with any information regarding the location of the ghost. Our sources have not provided the number, taking into account the controversial nature of this topic, but the agency's website can be found…"

His ears were starting to burn, and his vision suddenly stopped sending images to his mind as everything went hazy.

"Oh my God," Sam blurted out, typing frantically on her computer, "it's right here! They didn't even need to give the number; anyone with half a brain could do a web search for this!"

Danny righted himself immediately, his mind automatically going into defense mode as he shot a look at Tucker.

"I'm already on it, Danny," his friend assured him, expertly hacking away at the rogue site via his trusty PDA. "But even if I take it down, it's bound to still exist somewhere. Or anyone who's interested could have already seen it…"

"Okay, calm down!" Jazz said with an ironic quiver of panic in her voice. "Now, who's to say anyone would take them up on this offer? I mean, either we knew everyone down there and can definitely trust them or they were high-level government officials who would never capitulate with a rogue organization and get on the bad side of our real government, who clearly supports you."

Danny's brow was still furrowed, and his heart beat loudly in his ears, but he let out a long breath to try to convince himself of Jazz's words.

"Yeah, I mean, who would ever want to turn you in for money? No one who was there hates you or would sell out a friend just for money, right?" Sam chimed in, gently rubbing his knee in attempted comfort.

But her words provided the opposite effect she had intended, and his eyes grew wide.

"Hates me? Needs money?"

Everyone's heads shot up at the same time, with the exception of Tucker, who kept his eyes glued to his work. A look of realization, however, crossed his face.

Jazz coughed. "You can't tell me…I mean, you don't think she'd…I don't think she would ever actually…"

"I haven't talked to her since the asteroid," Danny whispered. "That's one confrontation I've been avoiding. I don't know what she thought or how she felt. I didn't even really see her when we were down there. I wanted to look to see how she was reacting, and I thought I saw her clapping, but it was just so much at once, and…"

Defense mode was back on, and he went ghost in less than an instant.

"Keep working on the site, Tuck—"

"It's down," his friend smiled triumphantly.

"She still might have gotten a screen save before you got rid of it; I'm not taking any chances," Danny said, full of conviction. "I'll be back."

He flew fast, taking the shortest route to where she lived—straight through buildings at speeds usually reserved for planes.

This was one post-reveal conversation he was most definitely not looking forward to.

He finally got there, almost out of breath but too full of adrenaline to slow down, and flew directly through her window, going tangible right as he landed. He looked up.

She was sitting there on her couch, an almost characteristic scowl marring her features as she stared at the small, static-covered television screen. She didn't move when he landed in her living room, didn't even bat an eye. It was almost as if she'd been expecting him. After staring at her unwavering expression for a few tense moments, Danny let his green eyes slide down to what was sitting on her coffee table. An old laptop. With the rogue agency's site pulled up and the number to call in large print numbers on the dark, worn screen. His eyes shifted again to the object sitting next to her on the couch.

A phone off the hook and in her hand.

But he noticed with a slight feeling of almost-relief that she was still not moving. She had not yet dialed.

He gulped and slowly opened his mouth, but no words came to his panicked mind. Valerie, however, did not share this problem.

"What?" she finally demanded. Simple. Direct. She didn't even turn to look at him.

He swallowed again in an attempt to clear his throat and pull words into his mouth. "Val…I…I don't know what to say."

"Obviously," she muttered, her words laced with bitterness.

He sighed sharply. "Look, I know you must be angry. And I know you must be hurt, but please…don't. Don't call that number."

Her scowl deepened, and at last, she moved. Her head whipped in his direction, her eyes so full of fury, he almost stumbled backwards and fell out the window.

"Why?" she asked. "Why shouldn't I call it? It's obvious we're not friends, and you know better than anyone how much I need the money. How much my father needs the money."

He'd known that one was coming, but he couldn't help but wince in guilt. "What, no! Valerie, you are my friend!"

"FRIENDS TRUST EACH OTHER, DANNY!" she screamed at him, rising from her seat to emphasize her rage. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth in the first place, and now look at you!"

He cocked his head ever so slightly to the side to indicate confusion, yet he kept his eyes firmly on her.

"Oh, what? You don't understand how this violates the conduct of trust? The second you see a report about an agency asking for money in exchange for information on you, what do you do?"

He darted his eyes away momentarily as it dawned on him.

"You automatically assume I'll do it! You don't talk to me for weeks after…it…and then at the first sign of any possibility of someone betraying you, you come directly to me. How do you think that makes me feel, Danny? You lie to me for years about who you are," she said, gesturing wildly and counting his faults on her fingers, "you don't say a word to me personally after you reveal it to hundreds of people, and then when you see a report offering money for your location, THEN you want to be friends again and give me a lecture on trust? How dare you!"

She was inches from him now, in full-on attack mode, her eyes red with lack of sleep—maybe even some tears—and definitely anger. Danny, for his part, was slowly arching away from her but managed to regain his composure long enough to form a response.

"Well, hey, look at what you are doing," he shot back, pointing at the laptop and phone she had discarded on the couch. "If I hadn't gotten here, would you have done it?"

"I don't know, Danny," she said accusingly. "Would I? What do you think?"

"I—" he cut himself off, making sure he was going to say the right thing and not the first thing that would come out of his mouth. "No. I don't think you would," he said, trying to sound calm and assured.

"Then you wouldn't be here," she whispered harshly, inches from his face. "Who's to say I won't still call, even though you're here, huh?"

His mouth went dry again as he tried to swallow.

"Um…"

"I just can't…believe this," she reaffirmed, pacing now, back and forth between Danny and the couch. "You. All along, that little maggot of a ghost—that was you. We were…we were supposed to be friends, and maybe…but you were Danny Phantom? And you just chose not to tell me?"

"It's not as simple as that, Valerie," he retorted angrily. "It was a complicated situation. No one knew! I wasn't just going around telling people!"

"Then how come Sam and Tucker knew?"

"Because they were my—!"

Oops.

She stopped pacing and crossed her arms, leaning back with a smile of disbelief on her face. "Your what, Danny?" she asked quietly, but in a voice a hundred times scarier than when she'd been yelling at him.

He sighed and looked away. "They were my friends," he saw her forming a rebuttal, but he cut her off, "WHEN it happened. Which was two years ago, okay? You and I…we weren't friends then. Not yet."

"Uh huh," she replied in a noncommittal tone, thoroughly unconvinced. "But even if that were the case, why did I never know? You knew it was me behind the mask. I'd think that I would be the first person you'd tell so I would stop, oh, I don't know, hunting you down like the animal I thought you were. The animal I'm beginning to think you might actually be."

He shut his eyes. "No, no. I mean…I was scared. You…you hated me so much, Valerie. And not without valid reason," he conceded, throwing his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "I just…I didn't know how you would react. I wanted you to like me so bad. I couldn't handle you hating me…both sides of me…and I thought…I guess I thought telling you the truth would make you hate me more."

She continued to glare at him. That answer was not sufficient.

"You betrayed me, Danny," her voice was low and intimidating. "We were never friends because you never trusted me with anything. Even now! The first person you expect of betrayal is me! Why not any of the other hundred people that were down there? I don't see you running off to Tucker's or Sam's to make sure they're not calling this number."

He shifted his gaze again, and she continued.

"Probably because they were already with you. Like they always are. God, do you three just have to be your own little clique that excludes everyone else? As much grief as you give to the so-called A-listers for being exclusive, you three are just as guilty of it yourselves. Do you ever even call to see if maybe I might wanna hang out with you? Where am I supposed to belong, Danny? Because you know being a loner is absolutely terrific," she droned, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she sat back down on the couch. "Everything I've had to do to keep up my life these past few years. It's all been your fault. The only thing that was holding me back from calling that number was the slight off-chance that you might have a touch of confidence in me," she looked at him evenly. "But now that I know the truth, what's stopping me?"

She picked up the phone and touched a number, and Danny's mind began to spin uncontrollably. "I'd be gone before they got here," he tried to reason.

"Then you'd be on the run forever. Nowhere to go," she returned swiftly, pressing the next number.

"I would…I'd…" he tried to think of reasons, but nothing was coming to him in the heat of the moment. "Val, please," he begged, the pitch of his voice rising in panic.

"What would be so different about it, anyway?" she questioned, pausing in her dialing process. "They'd be chasing you around. But so what's new? I know people have been hunting you down and trying to hurt you for years," she whispered, a dark tone almost akin to guilt overtaking her voice. "What would they do any differently, this rogue agency?"

She rose again, leaving the phone on the couch as she walked forward to confront him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you in."

He faltered, his brain going fuzzy, as he tried to think of that ever-elusive "one good reason" to stop her.

"They'd…they'd hurt me," he answered desperately. "I don't know; they'd rip me apart, tear me away from my home and do everything they could to—to extract my DNA or to learn about me or just to make me miserable for being the supposed 'criminal' that I am!"

"Oh yeah? And how is that any different from what I've been doing to you? What would make that so much worse?" she screamed to the point of tears, suddenly whipping out one of her weapons from her back pocket and aiming it directly at his chest, touching the fabric of his shirt with the cold barrel of the gun.

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath hitched in his throat as he felt the solid weapon collide against his body. Weaponry being aimed at his chest had a habit of making his brain go fuzzy with panic. But even as the subconscious sheen of water built around the outside of his eyes, he kept them firmly focused on her demanding, shaky gaze.

He had one shot.

"The difference," he practically whispered, his voice shaking, praying his trust was not unfounded, "is that they would pull the trigger."

He watched and held his breath as her face slowly turned from rage to grief in mere seconds. She shook her head as tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

She wanted to be mad. More than anything, she wanted to pull that trigger. To hurt him. To get revenge for everything. But as the tears continued to flow, her shoulders started to shake and her knees buckled, and the first sob to wrack her body would have thrown her to the floor had Danny not been in a ready position to catch her while hesitantly pulling the weapon out of her grasp.

She wanted to tell him not to touch her and to go away and to leave her alone, but she had no more energy, and the comfort of his arms, now warm and human, felt so, so good. She pressed her forehead against his chest, and he circled his strong arms around her and rubbed her back. As he whispered unheard words, she could feel his heartbeat go from a racing, panicked stutter to a softer, more normal rate as they sat and she cried.

While he stroked her, the feel of her hair soft and delicate under his shaking hands, Danny looked around her meager abode. The broken couch with stuffing falling out and springs jutting up from the cushions; the TV from the stone-age; the coffee table probably brought up straight from the dumpster. All this was his fault. Everything bad that had ever befallen this girl had been his fault, and he'd never given her any explanation, yet he expected her to be on his side?

He let out a dry laugh akin to the sobs emitting from the girl he held. He pulled her closer, and, shutting his eyes tightly as if bracing himself, he whispered shakily into her ear.

"Maybe you should call them."

She'd been ignoring his standard words of comfort, but this out-of-the-blue suggestion brought her back to reality. Her sobs shortened, and she tried to catch her breath, confusion in her voice as she asked.

"What?"

She pulled away from his chest and they sat face-to-face, kneeling on the ground, his arms still on her shoulders as stray tears streaked from her eyes. He gave a sad smile, and he wiped a tear from her face.

"I know I told you it wasn't my fault. And believe me, I didn't do any of it on purpose," he said strongly but quietly. "But I'm still responsible for your situation. If it wasn't for me and my failures at trying to stop that ghost, your dad would never have lost his job, you would have never started hunting ghosts or needed to get a job to raise money…everything is just…it's my responsibility. And I can't fix it by giving you money, but…if you believe this agency will really give you what you need…maybe it's time I paid for what I did to you."

She closed her eyes in what seemed to be anger, but she fell forward against him. "Oh, Danny."

"I mean, I deserve it," he whispered as he held her. "I didn't trust you. I didn't treat you like a friend. I ruined your life. You need the money. It all just…I'm telling you that if you did it, I would completely understand, and I'd take it, and I wouldn't…I could never hate you."

He felt tears well up in his own voice, and he tried to swallow them down. He meant it. All of it. If there was one person in the world that he had wronged, it had been Valerie. He'd tried to stop the destruction that seemed to constantly reign from him down onto her life…but he couldn't. And this was her opportunity for closure, for redemption. And if it meant he had to suffer, well, they would only be even. He couldn't hate her for wanting justice.

He was slightly taken aback, though, when he heard her start to chuckle humorlessly. "Do you honestly think I would do that?"

She yanked herself away from him again, just slightly, and looked into his eyes, her own glistening with recently-shed tears. He took a breath as he looked at her, his glossy blue orbs softening and his face falling slightly from the look of resignation on hers.

"No," he admitted heavily, with a touch or remorse, "I don't."

He watched as the corners of her lips curved slightly upward into a tired sort of smile. The smile of someone who was resigned to her fate, having lost her way of life long ago and having already reconciled with it. It nearly broke his heart more to realize that, despite the fact that he'd hurt her in so many ways, she still wouldn't sell him out.

That she still felt guilty for having hurt him in the past, though she had every rational right to be angry with him. To hurt him back.

He didn't even flinch as she pulled out of his arms, stood up, and walked over to the couch where the phone still lay. She stared at it for the briefest of moments, Danny's sorrowful eyes following the movement of her hand as she slowly reached to where the phone sat on the cushion. He didn't blink. Didn't question what she would do because he knew.

They were starting over. This—this was their first moment of trust.

And he trusted her.

She gently picked up the object, any possible signs of regret well-concealed in her features, and returned it to its rightful place on the hook. She likewise shut her laptop with a half-hearted slam before crumbling into the worn seat of her ratty couch, her face buried in her hands. Without a second thought, Danny rose and walked over to her, not bothering to ask permission to take a seat. Shuffling as close to her as he could get, Danny wrapped his left arm around the broken girl, softly nudging her into his embrace, and she, too tired to resist, fell toward him. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he pushed the hair out of her face, again murmuring words of useless comfort to the girl whose life he'd ruined. To the girl who had almost ruined his.

Almost.

All the feelings for Danny/Valerie. Even though this is not shippy. Just angst.