It was all her fault.

She hadn't known what would happen. That somehow there would be a loose panel or wires that had been crossed wrong. That he would trip on his own foot (something he'd always done that she and Tucker had used to tease him over) and knock whatever had been wrong into place.

Electrocution, the coroner had declared, was the cause of death. Being in that room had been like standing in the middle of a lightning storm holding a copper pipe. No possible way he could have survived.

Danny Fenton was dead.

All your fault, whispered a traitorous part of her mind (that sounded disturbingly, scarily like Danny). And the worst part of it all? The voice was right.

She'd goaded Danny into putting on the suit. Into stepping in there. He'd only done it because she'd pushed him to do it as a confidence-boost.

Should have been you, hissed the Danny-voice. You wanted to check out the portal; I only went in because you didn't want to get your hands dirty.

It was true. It was all true.

"Sam?" Someone reached out, pulling her hand into theirs and gripping tight. "Sam, they said you were lucid this morning. Can you hear me?"

She turned to look into brown eyes partially hidden behind glasses, and recognized Tucker.

"I killed him, Tucker," she whispered, her voice a broken little thing that refused to be mended. "I killed Danny."

"Danny... who?" And she lost understanding – how could Tucker possibly forget Danny? He'd been standing right next to her the entire time!

"Danny Fenton!" She tried to pull him close, but something was preventing her – the restraints keeping her tied to the hospital bed. "He lived in 225 East Elm with his parents, Maddie and Jack, and his annoying older sister, Jazz! FentonWorks, Tucker, don't you even remember FentonWorks?"

There was a sigh, and Tucker stood up, walking out of the room. She screamed at him the entire time to try to remember.


"Thanks for calling me in, Chris." Tucker sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "But she's still not all there. You didn't call her family, did you?"

"Not this time, sir." Chris replied, tapping away at the computer behind the desk. There was a brief pause, and then the brown-haired man spoke up again. "I couldn't help but overhear, and... who's Danny Fenton?"

"Someone she believes she killed. I looked all over for someone matching the guy's name and description, but he just doesn't exist. Nobody by the name of Fenton ever lived anywhere near where Miss Manson. Closest I came was a middle-aged woman by the name of Danielle Fenton, and she's buried next to Sam's stillborn brother."

"Oh." There was more clicking, then, "what's she got, then? Gotta have something to be here."

"Chris, you're admin. Only reason you're let up here is because I like you."

"Not gonna tell me, then?" Chris gave a rueful smile. "Making me feel pretty sad, Doctor Foley." The phone rang, and Tucker snatched it up while giving a light smack to Chris' head.

"Amity General, Psych Ward."