1. Happenstance
Dark clouds that occasionally flickered with light rolled across the sky, rapidly consuming the sunlight.
Darkness spread over Amity Park; thunder rumbled loudly.
Despite the dark weather, teenagers chattered animatedly, laughing jovially as they poured out of the school.
They always seemed to be buzzing with energy.
Soon the school would be desolate, and the children would likely remain indoors, watching movies or playing video games while the rain poured outside.
Lancer heaved a weary sigh as he tossed his bag into the car. It landed carelessly on the passenger seat.
The dark blue 1990 Volvo sank under his weight. He turned the key, but something was wrong with the ignition, so it took three more tries before the old car sputtered to life.
Lancer had to hurry. His car didn't fare well in bad weather, and he didn't want to be caught in the storm and stranded on the side of the road again.
Summer was only two weeks away. He hadn't been keeping track of the money he'd put in his savings, but he was certain there was more than enough to buy a new car.
No vacation this year. He had already signed up for summer classes, even though the principal had already assured him that it wasn't necessary.
Lancer was long overdue for a vacation.
The teacher eased his car out of the parking lot and immediately hit the road.
It was a twenty-minute drive to his house, but, if he sped, then he could make it in fifteen, maybe ten minutes. He had rarely seen a cop on the road that led to his house, but one could never be too sure, so he kept to the regular speed.
He had nothing else planned for the day, so he could anticipate curling up by the fireplace and re-reading Farenheit 451 or Heart of Darkness.
Water pellets began to crash against his car's windshield and Lancer sighed. 'Well,' he thought, 'maybe now I won't have to get that much needed carwash.'
His stomach rumbled loudly, earning a grimace from Lancer.
He decided to pull into Dina's Diner, a small restaurant near his home.
He parked his car and ran out into the rain, which had already gone from a light drizzle to a heavy shower.
He released an exasperated groan when he read the sign on the door.
'Sorry, we're closed!'
"Of coure," Lancer muttered angrily. "Just my luck. I forget my lunch, I forget my umbrella, spill coffee on my shirt, and now this."
The man stood in front of the restaurant, waiting for a moment before deciding to head back to his car.
Across the street, stood a gasoline store, but Lancer wasn't in the mood for chips and soda; however, there was a convenience store just down the road, and they would certainly have some of those 5-minute microwaveable dinners there.
He was thinking pasta. "Yes," he muttered to himself, "some pasta would be nice."
The thought made him quicken his pace and rush to his old car. When he finally managed to haul open the creaky door, a loud 'boom' made him drop the keys on the ground in surprise.
That did not sound like thunder, Lancer knew, so what was that noise?
Another boom and a bright flash of violet light somewhere in the near distance.
Lancer instinctively ducked his head, just as a white and black blur shot past him.
Thunder rumbled, and the rain fell heavier.
It was getting harder to discern any sounds above the loud storm.
Lancer breathed. After a few moments of silence, Lancer peeked out from behind the car.
There, lying just on the side of the road was a body.
Black and white suit, silver hair, unearthly green glow.
"Danny Phantom," Lancer breathed.
He glanced around the vicinity, but there was no one else in sight. "Of course, only I would be standing outside in the pouring rain, all by myself, a few feet away from a powerful ghost."
Lancer peered into his car, debating over whether or not he should leave behind the ghostly teen hero or offer some help.
Lancer rolled his eyes at himself.
'Danny Phantom's a ghost. He can't get hurt. I can't fight. I'm a mere human. What kind of help could I possibly have to offer?'
But Lancer forced himself to look back up at the figure that had fallen from the sky. There was no movement from him whatsoever.
Concern immediately gripped him, and the old teacher quickly made up his mind.
He scurried across the road, pausing only to briefly check for oncoming cars.
There were none.
He fell to his knees beside the body, and he hesitantly poked it.
"Hello?" He shouted over the roaring rain. "Mr. Phantom? Mr. Phantom, are you okay?"
He nudged the body more forcefully and finally received a reaction.
He sucked in a breath.
Glowing green eyes wearily peered up at him through half-lidded eyes.
It seemed Lancer's assumptions were incorrect.
"You're-you're not the ghost boy!"
The young girl groaned in response. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
The child couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old.
And, though she was clearly not human, he noticed a nasty purple-ish bruise forming on her otherwise colorless cheek. She had a deep wound over her left brow, and her bottom lip was swollen and bloody. Her suit was torn in some areas, and blood was flowing from her ears.
Lancer looked her over, horrified by her condition.
The girl coughed violently but eventually managed to gasp out some words. "Don't—don't let 'im take me. Don't lettim."
Her weak voice squeezed at Lancer's heart. He didn't know what to do.
Call nine one one?
Take her to the hospital?
But then what would they do to her? He was certain no human doctor could help her.
And, if he did take her to a medical facility, would they lock her up in some secret government facility?
He'd read enough books to know that that could very well happen.
And who was this ghost afraid of? Another ghost? A government agent?
The sound of a man shouting in the distance reached Lancer's ears.
The girl tensed up and grabbed Lancer's shirt. Tears leaked out of her eyes.
"Nononononono," she whispered. Her eyelids seemed to be drooping. She was struggling to remain conscious. "Don't lettem get me. Don't lettem get me."
Something stirred in Lancer.
Sympathy moved him to help.
The instinct to protect reigned.
"Don't worry," Lancer muttered. "I'll help you."
He scooped the girl up in his arms, desperately hoping he wasn't further injuring her in doing so, and ran to his car.
He quickly placed her in the backseat, then picked up his keys and moved to sit behind the steering wheel.
He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it.
Mercifully, the car rumbled to life on the first try.
He stepped on the gas and sped out into the road, ignoring the speed limit signs for once in his life.
His house was several miles away from the city, located further out in the country.
It was a small, two-bedroom, one-bathroom, brick house, which he had bought at a great price. His nearest neighbor was thirty minutes away, which was perfect because he actually enjoyed the solitude.
Fortunately, there would be no nosy neighbors to wonder why he was bringing a young, glowing, ghost girl into his house.
He carried the unconscious girl into the house and placed her on the couch.
The girl was freezing and surprisingly solid to the touch.
He wasn't sure if that was normal for a ghost, so he turned on the heater and flicked on the lights.
When Lancer came back to the child, he was astounded.
Besides the silver hair, she looked extremely human. In fact, she looked like a beaten up human kid.
He shifted uncomfortably.
Lancer had never imagined being put in this situation.
Sure, he imagined that perhaps, as a teacher, he would encounter some bruised children. He imagined having to deal with rude parents, and he had dealt with children who came from dysfunctional homes, drug addicts, violent boys, impudent teens.
But having to care for a battered ghost who looked remarkably like the famous (or infamous) Amity Park superhero?
Never crossed his mind.
And, to think, someone had clearly done this to her.
What kind of sick person had the audacity to do this to a child?
In the midst of his musings, Lancer caught sight of something that he knew for a fact was not normal for ghosts.
The terrifyingly slow rise and fall of her chest.
A knew fear struck Lancer.
Could she die?
A/N: This idea has been bouncing around in my head since before I finished writing Like Father, Like Son.
I'm glad to finally have this chapter posted!
Reviews, please?