Bwa-haha. At-a-glance won my 'Pits' contest and requested a Danny torture/angst fic with some DxS. Not being very specific, I got to do whatever I wanted. So…here you go! Hope it fits the definition okay.

Peter Pan
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

The boy paced back and forth, his hair flickering from black to white and back.

"Sit down."

He shook his head, glancing up at Teacher with eyes that drifted uncontrollably between sky blue and emerald green. "No, no," he whispered quietly.

"Yes, please, sit down."

Fingers rubbed together as he walked, stopping inches from the wall and shaking his head frantically. "No. Can't sit down."

"You need to read." Teacher got out of her chair and walked up to the boy, placing her arm around his shoulders and giving him a small squeeze. For a moment her fingers slid through his arm as he lost his tenuous hold on tangibility. "You need to learn."

"Can't," he muttered. Tears sparkled in colorful eyes that swirled anxiously between ghost and human. "Can't sit down."

She smiled, catching one of his tears on her finger and turning him to face her. "We got you a special chair, remember? You won't fall through this one."

"No," he moaned dejectedly, refusing to look at her as his skin gained an impossibly pale glow. "Please. Leave me alone."

She smiled at him, heading back over to the table to drop back into her chair and picking up the small book. "Once you learn, okay? Come read for me."

The boy's feet left the ground and he crossed his legs. Hovering in mid-air, he watched curiously as Teacher paged through the book and found the spot where they had left off last time. For some reason, he always ended up doing what Teacher wanted him to do, but he wasn't sure why. Before he could make up his mind whether or not to do as she had asked, he suddenly crashed to the ground as his ability to fly vanished from his shaky grasp.

Teacher jumped out of her chair and was by his side by the time he rolled over with a groan. She smiled at him when she found out he was fine, ruffling his black (then white) hair and brushing her own black locks over her shoulder. "Come read, Danny."

"Can't," the boy said softly. "Don't remember."

"I'm here to help you." She leaned over him, letting her infectious grin fill his vision. "I'm always here to help you. I always have, and I always will."

He silently rolled to his feet and drifted over to the table, having completely forgotten his earlier desire not to read. About half-way there, he vanished from view, only reappearing once he was seated. He picked up the book and gazed down at the pictures. Just before the book slipped through his intangible fingers and fluttered to the ground, he looked up at Teacher with a pleading look. "Read?"

She stooped to pick up the fallen book and settled down into her own chair, easily finding the lost page. "See, Danny? This is where we stopped yesterday. We were reading all about Peter asking Wendy for his shadow back."

"Who?" he whispered. His nose almost brushed the page as he stared at the beautifully painted picture of a flying boy. "He's flying."

"That's Peter, remember? And yes, he's like you. He can fly." Teacher turned backwards a page, showing the boy a picture of a small faerie. "He's got Tinkerbell with him to keep him out of trouble, just like your sister comes here to keep you out of trouble."

Eyes jumped from the book to Teacher's face, flickering impossibly quickly between green and blue. "Peter no fall."

She smiled, her own violet eyes glittering. "That's right, Danny. Peter doesn't fall, and you won't either someday."

Danny moved his chair a little closer to the table, resting his elbows on the table and cupping his chin with his hands. One of his elbows fell through the table, but he pulled it back out and focused on the book. "Read, Teacher. Please."

Teacher read. "'It wouldn't be so bad,' Peter said definitely, 'if my shadow didn't keep running off. It needs to be stuck on good.' 'But Boy,' Wendy replied, 'you can't stick on a shadow with a bar of soap.' 'You can't?' Peter asked. Wendy smiled. 'It needs to be sewn on.'" Teacher took a breath to keep reading, but Danny muttered something. "What was that, Danny?"

He shook his head, his ever-changing eyes fixing on blue for a moment, confusion sparkling in his gaze. "Johnny wouldn't sew on his shadow."

Teacher gasped, leaning closer to him. "Danny?" she said with a hopeful note in her voice.

His eyes lost their focus and he flickered invisible. "Read?" his voice asked from thin air, not understanding or really remembering what had just happened. Then, just as suddenly as he was gone, he was back.

Struggling to keep the tears from her eyes, Teacher nodded and blinked down at the words. "'Won't that hurt?' Peter asked. Wendy just shook her head, reaching into her mother's desk to pull out the darning needle. 'Not at all, Boy. Now come here.'"

She paused her reading, glancing down at the boy's entranced face with a smile. "She's going to fix her friend, Danny."

"What next?" Danny whispered. He took the book out of Teacher's hands and gazed down at the pictures, his eyes shifting with delight.

"You tell me," Teacher said softly. "What happens to the boy that'll never grow up?"

He looked at her curiously through his bangs. "Read, please," he said and handed the book back to her.

Teacher smiled. "You need a haircut, clueless one." She reached out and pushed the long hair out of his eyes, her fingers resting on the long scar on his forehead for a moment. "You haven't aged a day since that accident, and yet you always need a haircut. Explain to me that one."

"Read?" Danny asked again, tapping the book with his finger.

"Yes, yes, oh Great One. I will read." She stood up and mockingly bowed to the boy, causing him to laugh. "And you will get better, right?"

His blue-green-blue eyes were still laughing when she sank back into her chair and held the book so he could see the pictures. As she continued to read the same story that she had been reading (and re-reading) every single day for the past ten years, Danny leaned against her side. She wrapped her free hand around his shoulders and smiled down at him. "'What's it like to fly, Peter?' Wendy asked. Peter grinned and held out his arms. 'It's better than anything, Wendy. Come on, you can fly with me.'"

"I saw him for a moment," Teacher said softly as she closed the door behind her. She picked up the clipboard and added a few notes to the bottom of the chart. "He remembered Johnny 13."

"He's not going to get better," the doctor said, dropping a hand comfortingly onto her back. "It's been almost ten years since he got into that accident."

"People recover from head injuries." She shook the hand off of her back, annoyed at the familiar gesture.

"Sam…" The doctor sighed and shook his head. "We can't figure out why he still looks like he's sixteen when he's almost twenty-six. We don't know anything about these ghost powers of his, much less what state his mind is in. We have no idea what happened in that accident." He picked the clipboard out of her hands and stared at it. "He hasn't gotten anywhere in years. He's not going to get better."

"Yes, he will."

The doctor bit his lip, finally asking a question that had been bugging him for awhile. "Why do you keep reading him the same book? He'll never remember it, and it's got to be boring for you."

"It's his favorite book," Sam said, her eyes narrowing. "He never likes it when I read other books. And it's a great metaphor for his life – maybe one of these days one of the lessons will actually sink in. And it's not really your business what I read to my friend… now is it."

He held up his free hand in mock surrender. "Go ahead. I've done everything for Danny that I can do. Now it's just a waiting game."

"Wait and see; he will fly again."

He watched the young woman stalk up the hall towards the exit. Once she had turned the corner, he checked to make sure she had locked the door before setting the clipboard back in its holder.

In the small room, the boy sank down and pressed his back against the wall, wondering when Teacher would be coming back. She always read the most wonderful stories.

But then his hand tingled as it became intangible, thoughts slipped from his mind, and he forgot all about the boy who would never grow up.