Riding the Edge

by Chaos Dragon

Forced to walk the line between life and death because of an accident of fate, Danny struggles to find peace and balance between the two halves that make him whole. Can Danny find his equilibrium, or will he tear himself apart in the process? DxS

Riding the Edge

As far as anyone knew, the beginning of Danny Fenton's junior year of high school was as normal as the beginning of a school year ever was. Between ghosts, chores, homework, and schoolwork, Danny was exhausted and already beginning to drown underneath the weight of his responsibilities. Not to mention the fact that he managed to get detention before first period was over on the first day.

The first time it happened it was an accident. And after the initial attraction of it passed he blew the thought off, grabbed a towel and pressed down over the wound and held it tight until it stopped bleeding. It really had been an accident, and he put it out of his mind.

The second time it happened was after he'd had a fairly interesting encounter with Skulker and the Box Ghost. Skulker had, as usual, been planning on laying his pelt at the foot of his bed, and Danny had managed to avoid that as he always had before, but not without injury. But the Box Ghost… Flying cardboard can be painful. He knew that from prior experience.

It had been at the end of September, he remembered, and he'd been trying to keep Sam and Tucker from taking the full force of a dozen boxes at once. He hadn't been fast enough to grab on to them and make them intangible, so he'd stayed solid and taken the hit himself. And while he was on the ground staring with a dark fascination at the ragged cuts that bled slowly, Sam and Tucker had come up with a thermos and trapped the Box Ghost.

The third time it happened it was nearly an accident.

Chemistry, in the lab, and Danny had gone intangible as Sam had brushed against him, the full length of her body pressing against his and he reacting as only a hormonal teenaged male could: instant and full fledged desire. And that was putting it delicately.

The beaker he'd been holding had slipped through his suddenly missing hand, and he'd gone crashing into to the lab desk as his arm went intangible up to the shoulder. The beaker had broken and Danny had blinked up at Sam and Tucker and the teacher, dazed and completely oblivious to the fact that he was laying in a pile of glass shards.

He'd put a hand down to stand up and not even felt it one a medium sized sliver of glass had sunk into the skin of his hand, into the fleshy pad below his thumb, and might not have noticed for hours if Sam hadn't gasped and immediately grabbed his wrist, turned his hand over and carefully tugged the glass out.

The only thing he had felt then was the clean pain of it, so different from the injuries he sustained on a near nightly basis now. It had been sharp, cold, pure. And it had held his attention like nothing had since… Well, since he could remember.

The fourth time… The fourth time was no accident. The fourth time Danny had stolen a razor blade from his father's medicine cabinet, locked himself in his room, and sliced a six inch gash down his left forearm. He'd watched for half an hour in morbid fascination as the blood dripped slow and steady down his pale skin and only cleaned it up when he realized exactly what he'd done.

But he didn't forget, and that was his undoing.

Halloween passed, and Thanksgiving was on its way when it happened again. A week before Thanksgiving there had been a… Not a fight. A battle, he termed it, and the name was better than it had been before. Not another Pariah Dark, not even another version of Danny Phantom twisted and evil. No, this time it was a ghost that actually thought its plans through and very nearly killed Sam and Tucker before Danny had managed to stop it.

That had earned him a new power, the duplication trick he'd been trying for two years to master. Of course, Sam was of the solid opinion that he wasn't earning or even learning new powers, he was 'growing into them' as he needed them. But even her pale attempts at humor and Tucker's insistence that he was fine had fallen on deaf ears. All Danny had seen was how pale Sam was against the white hospital sheets, and how bright the cast on Tucker's wrist was.

He'd gone to school the next day in long sleeves, grateful that it was so cold and he could hide the dozens of slashes up each arm beneath the fabric.

He fought harder after that, more determined to keep Tucker and Sam, especially Sam, safe from anything that could harm them. Himself included, and he disappeared for hours on end to hunt, to fight, to practice, to train. By Christmas, Sam was complaining that she felt like she never saw him anymore. By Valentine's day Tucker was echoing her sentiments as she grew more vocal about how Danny was pushing them away.

By the time April came thundering in with its myriad rainstorms and explosive thunder and lighting, Danny was well and truly addicted, and he was beginning to realize that hiding it… Well, it just wasn't an option anymore.

---

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Danny, but it's like I don't even know you anymore," Sam said to him as he trailed behind her and Tucker on the way home from school. The sky was overcast and was threatening to open up in spectacular fashion at any moment.

"Yeah," Tucker said, adding, "I know you've got a lot on your mind because of the ghosts and all, but it's not like you can't count on us anymore. Last night was like the third time you've ditched us this week. And it's only Wednesday."

Danny kept his eyes lowered, accepting the accusations without a word. He twitched his sleeves up as he grabbed on to the straps of his backpack and sped up to keep pace. "I just don't want you guys to get hurt," he said after a while. "It's dangerous, doing this stuff. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Again, he added silently, and he glanced up at Sam.

It was as Sam was opening her mouth to reply that he felt it, the chill that began somewhere in his middle and rushed up through him until a blue vapor escaped his moth in a gasp. "Ghost," he said, looking around frantically.

"Over there," Tucker said, pointing behind and above them.

With a glance around Danny dropped his bag and muttered a curse as he saw the Box Ghost floating lazily over a moving van they'd passed as they'd walked. He was taking over the boxes the family was frantically trying to grab out of the air and manipulating them so that they dumped all of the possessions out, all the while screaming, "Beware!"

He ducked low and in a flash of silvery light shot into the air as Danny Phantom. A carefully placed ectoblast got the ghost's attention and he was ducking a succession of boxes as he moved at top speed towards the van and the family under attack.

"I am the Box Ghost!" he screamed, and Danny bit back a laugh as he shot careful blasts through the energy that surrounded the boxes still floating by the family.

"And you never learn," Danny shot back as he tossed another blast at the ghost, making sure he was safely tumbling away from the inhabited building as he turned back to yell for the thermos in his backpack.

It was as he turned that he heard Sam scream, "Duck," and he did, dropping into a low flight and firing at the Box Ghost and the boxes he was sending Danny's way. He thought he had all of them until he heard another shout from behind him, Sam again, and with a backwards glance that told him she and Tucker had been buried under a pile of boxes—he could only hope they were empty—he shot towards the Box Ghost, grabbing him by the overalls and driving him down into the sidewalk.

Concrete cracked and green blood splashed as Danny left the ghost buried in rubble to shoot through two cars and the moving truck to get back to Sam and Tucker. "Are you guys alright?" he asked frantically as he tugged and yanked boxes from on top of them.

"Fine, fine," Tucker said shoving the Fenton Thermos at Danny. "Go, get him, I'll take care of Sam."

With one glance at Sam Danny turned and uncapped the thermos as he flew back up into the air. The Box Ghost hadn't moved. In fact, the Box Ghost wasn't even conscious, he realized, if ghosts could actually be knocked out. He could, but he was only a halfa, and he still had a human side to deal with.

In fact, the only time he could remember actually rendering any ghosts unconscious had been eight years in the future. Ten when it had happened, the day he had first used his Ghostly Wail and defended himself against half a dozen of his most persistent enemies in the Ghost Zone. And that had definitely been a little different than pile driving someone who was already dead into four inches of concrete.

He shook his head as he activated the thermos, relieved when the blue vortex spiraled out and surrounded the Box Ghost, trapping him in it and sucking him inside. He capped it, glanced down at the family and thought for a moment about asking them if they were alright. He decided against it since they were still screaming, and turned to fly back to Sam and Tucker.

Tucker really was fine, he saw as soon as he landed and shifted back to his human half again, careful to do it away from prying eyes. His backpack was still buried, but he wasn't screaming in agony. Which meant there wasn't another hospital trip in the offing and his PDA was still in one piece. A relief since Danny had just heard the week before how he had two payments left, and this was the closest he'd come to paying one off before it was destroyed since Danny had gained his ghost powers.

It had made Danny laugh for a minute until he reworded it and added it to the unhealthy pile of guilt he already heaped upon himself. Danny's translation took the humor out of it and turned it into an accusation of how many of Tucker's PDA's were destroyed in the last two years. A number that Danny didn't actually want to think about.

He was terrible at math anyway, why strain himself unnecessarily?

Sam, however, was nursing a long scrape down one elbow and a sluggishly bleeding gash above her left eye. Her arm was cradled to her chest as she tried to blot it and clean it with the hem of her shirt, but the cut on her forehead was already beginning to bruise spectacularly.

"I'm sorry," he said as he dug through his backpack for the first aid kit he carried habitually now. He found it, opened it and came up with alcohol wipes, antibacterial ointment, and gauze pads and tape.

"Wasn't your fault," she said as Tucker wiped down her arm and Danny blotted the cut on her head simultaneously. She squealed as the alcohol burned, and bit her tongue with the effort not to call them both truly horrible names. "Pigs. You're both pigs and cavemen. I hate you both," she muttered as ointment and little bandages were applied.

"All better now," Tucker said as he helped Sam to her feet while Danny stuffed the kit back into his bag. "You should go ahead and put him," and Tucker waggled his fingers at the thermos, "back where he belongs. I'll take Sam home."

"Yeah," Danny muttered and without another word turned himself invisible before shifting and shooting into the air as Phantom again.

Sam watched where he had stood moments before, pushing her hair out of her face. "He's acting really, really strange Tucker," she said as she stooped and grabbed her backpack. "Do you think there's a new ghost he hasn't told us about?"

Tucker thought about it for a moment as they walked. "I don't know, Sam," he finally said. "Maybe, but I don't think so. If there was a new ghost around trying to take over the world—"

"Again," Sam interrupted with a faint smile.

Tucker smiled at it and continued on. "I think Valerie would have said something to us. To me, at least."

"And you expect me to believe you two aren't dating?" Sam asked dryly. "Right, and I wear pink."

Tucker laughed nervously and fiddled with his PDA. "It's nothing official. Unofficially official. Sort of."

"You've got it bad."

"Like you don't?" he shot back and made a note in his PDA when she turned red.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tucker Foley, and if you know what's good for you, you won't either," she threatened with a glare.

Tucker snorted as they turned the corner to Sam's house. "Sam, I hate to break it to you, but everyone knows."

"Everyone but Danny," she muttered.

"Well, he is Mr. Oblivious. He can't help it, Sam, it's just the way he's wired."

"Trust you to turn the human body into an advanced machine in one sentence," she said as she stopped on her stoop. "Thanks for walking me home. Want me to have someone drive you home?"

"Nah," Tucker said. "I'm going to Val's house to study." He flushed again and Sam laughed.

"Unofficially official, right?" she teased. "Well, if Danny calls you, you'll let me know, right?"

"Yeah. If he calls," Tucker said quietly. It had been almost a month since Danny had called either him or Sam, and they both knew that he was avoiding taking calls at home. From anyone, not just them, which was something of a relief, but made it hurt a little more when they found themselves lumped with everyone else, instead of where they belonged in the best friend category.

"Right," Sam said and let herself in to the house. With a shouted, "I'm home," she raced up the stairs and to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her in case the parental's decided to actually bother her for once.

It would be her luck that they'd do it when she looked like she been on the wrong end of a fist, but she could probably lie her way out of it she decided as she examined her head in the bathroom mirror. The cut wasn't too bad, it'd heal alright, but the bruising was going to be… Colorful came to mind.

She pried the gauze along her arm up and peered at the scrape but was satisfied to see that once she washed the dried blood Tucker had missed off, it wasn't any worse that scrapes she'd gotten when she'd gone through her skate boarding phase at thirteen. At least she wasn't neurotic like Paulina or Star. Sam didn't actually give a damn if she scarred.

Okay, not true. But as long as it wasn't completely disfiguring, she'd live happily. Of course, that wasn't something she was going to admit to anyone, not even Tucker or Danny. No, it would give them license to tease her for the remainder of their lives. Which would become very short the moment they started it.

She headed back into her room and glanced at the door, making sure it was closed and firmly locked before she pulled the heavy drapes closed and began tossing her clothes into a hamper. A shower was in order, she decided, and the hot water was a welcome sting as she washed all of the blood away, letting it beat against her face as she turned it up into the spray.

Sam wondered if Danny ever wished he could just wash it all away, forget that he'd ever had the accident—the accident that was her fault, her burden of guilt—but somehow she wasn't sure. He had his hero complex. He'd admitted it more than once. He'd rather suffer than let anyone else take the pain.

That was why he'd been so very distant and eager to leave after the Box Ghost attacked then. Because she'd screamed for him to duck, and he'd listened without hesitation. At least he'd learned that much in two years. Sam Manson did not scream without very good reason. Falling off buildings, giant ghost snakes, the incident during the summer when she found her room draped in meat.

Tucker's idea of a bad joke, she recalled fondly. Danny had been acting like Danny then, at least.

He wasn't anymore, she decided as she wrapped a towel around herself and wiped steam from the mirror. Colorful, yes, she mused as she poked at the cut above her eye. "At least it's not bleeding," she muttered as she grabbed a hair tie and yanked her damp hair back into a ponytail. That had been her one concession to fashion, no matter what she told herself on bad days.

She liked her hair longer than shoulder length. And she knew Danny liked it too, she'd caught him fiddling with it on more than one occasion when he wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, and he had no idea that she knew. She'd spoke too soon, she decided as the sudden tugging as she tied her hair up split the barely sealed wound and sent tiny drops of blood welling along it.

"Okay," she decided out loud. "At least it doesn't need stitches."

Harmless enough, and hopefully it wouldn't trigger yet another Murphy's Law. She narrowed her eyes into the mirror as she used a hand towel to blot the blood and apply new ointment, then tape a band aid over it. Flesh colored and noticeable, but not as noticeable as the white gauze now safely in her trash can. And if she could get the parents to leave her alone, they need never know that she'd gotten hurt.

She dried off briskly and pulled on faded boxers and a black tank top. Never mind that the boxers had once been Danny's, and that they were loose around her waist because of the stretched band. She'd managed to keep them one night after he'd cleaned up from a fight at her house, blithely telling him she had no idea where they went, and damn the luck.

Maybe they'd gone to the same place that the missing left sock was at. At least she'd returned his other clothes.

And then she stretched out on her bed and leaned over the side, tugging the fitted sheet up and sticking her hand in a well hidden split at the seam of the mattress. Eight seconds of fishing and she was pulling out a book, bound in thick black paper, and a conspicuous symbol painted on the front in white-out. The logo she'd made for Danny back in freshman year and had slapped on his chest instead of that silly Jack head.

The symbol she'd given him the day she had made him die again.

She sighed and flipped the book open, paging through it past sheets full of her careful handwriting, a casual mix of cursive and print that filled more than half of the thick book. She found a blank page at last and grabbed a pen from her nightstand, pressing tip to paper and suddenly not knowing what to write. She'd thought she'd fill pages with the thoughts in her head, but when it came down to it, a few sentences said it best.

He's acting more than strange, and I'm worried about him. I'm going to find out what's wrong and damn the consequences. I'm not letting him walk away again.

---

Less than three miles away was a similar situation in Danny Fenton's bedroom, carefully locked and barred against outside intrusion, especially from Jazz. She'd been hovering over him since he'd gotten home, and after he'd released the barely conscious Box Ghost back into the Ghost Zone he'd retreated, knowing it for what it was, and not caring in the least that he was running away from his family by hiding in his room.

At least he'd been able to phase himself through walls and to the bathroom for his shower. Pity he didn't have a private one like Sam, he thought as he dug through his drawers and finally came up with faded gray sweatpants that looked like they'd be more comfortable than jeans. They were, much more, and Danny stretched out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"Danny, it's time to eat," Jazz said from outside his bedroom door. He'd have said she was interrupting his thoughts, except he hadn't really been thinking about much of anything. Just replaying the scene from the afternoon in his head repeatedly, trying to find a way to have protected Tucker and Sam. And Sam.

"Not hungry," he called back, "I'll get something later if I want to."

He heard a footstep and the she stopped. "Mom and Dad are worried about you, Danny. So am I."

I'm worried about myself, too, he thought wryly. "I'm fine, I just have some homework I need to catch up on."

"Oh. Well, if you get hungry…" The footsteps he'd been waiting for echoed down the hall.

Danny glanced at his clock, sighing as he realized it was already after eight. Another hour, maybe two at the most and his parents would be asleep. Jazz was no problem, if he told her often enough that he was catching up on school work she'd let him be after offering to help. But he never let her help him anymore. No, lately he'd been managing to puzzle out the things he was supposed to be learning all on his own.

Amazing, what he could accomplish when he found a focus for all of the craziness that his life stirred up inside of him.

Another hour… He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sam. He shouldn't have ducked, should have stayed where he was and taken the hit that was meant for him, instead of letting his best friends take it. Should have just fried the Box Ghost in the first place, or why else was he working so hard to make himself a better fighter, a more efficient ghost?

He knew he was better than he had been, stronger than before. He figured that if he went all out against Plasmius that he'd at least be able to hold his own. By himself, without any of the help that had always given him the edge before. He could do it, he was sure of it. And probably win, since he'd disciplined himself fairly well against pain.

Yeah, he thought as he glanced down at his arms. Shirtless as he was it was easy to see the shiny white scars, the barely healed red tissue that lined them from bicep to wrist, criss crossing and having no set pattern as a whole. He, at least, knew where to look. The set of a dozen that ran almost perfectly even down both forearms… Those had been done the night he'd left Sam alone in the hospital and Tucker at home with a broken wrist.

There was another set that ran down his left wrist. Four perfect slashes, all had been done shallowly, all right above the tendons that moved under his skin as he moved his hand back and forth. Those had been curiosity after an interesting round with Skulker. He'd come home with no explanation for the state of himself, blood, bruises and ruined clothes.

He'd been grounded for two weeks that time, and he'd ran a razorblade through his skin wondering what would happen if he had the nerve to cut deeper than he was.

For some reason he wasn't sure if he'd die. Properly, at least. He was already half dead, and Danny knew from experience that the dead half did tend to hold sway over the living. His low body temperature was a point of fact with that. It was one of the reasons he so religiously avoided doctors and hospitals. The normal average for a person's body temperature was 98.6 degrees. Danny hovered somewhere around 72.

He was already half dead. Surely death wouldn't do much of anything to him…

From downstairs he heard a door close and realized that it was the front door. Quick as thought he was to the window of his room, peering down at the street. There was no one outside, and he paled as he realized that it was a visitor. And he'd bet that it was Tucker or Sam.

He'd have won, he realized as his door thumped loudly and Tucker called, "Open up, I have something that belongs to you."

"Wait a sec," he called as he dove for his closet and yanked a long sleeved shirt from inside and tugged it on, mussing his dark hair more than normal and not caring in the least. Without much effort he turned the trunk he'd shoved in front of the door intangible and moved it out of the way. Flipping the lock he opened the door and let Tucker in, making sure to firmly close the door behind him.

"I already did my homework," Danny said curiously. "I really don't need to copy."

Tucker laughed and held out a well used Fenton Thermos. "Valerie wanted me to give this back to you. I said I would since I have to walk right past your house on my way home."

He reached out and took it, standing it next to his computer on his desk and glancing back at Tucker. His best friend was watching him through carefully hooded green eyes and Danny turned and straightened, forcing himself to lean casually against the wall. "What's up, Tuck?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence before the boy opened his mouth and said, "You're acting strange."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "I'm a teenager. That's what we do, remember?"

Tucker glared, sighed. "You're not… You're not acting like you normally do. You've been weird since school began, and it only got worse after what happened at Thanksgiving."

Danny tensed and pushed off the wall, stalking to his bed and dropping down onto it. "Maybe I just don't like to see my best friends getting hurt because of me."

"Because of you we aren't dead," Tucker shot back. "Or did you forget that?"

Danny was silent, refusing to give voice to the thought that crept up and nearly out. It was my fault that I had to save you in the first place.

"Danny, we're worried about you. Me, Sam. Even your parents are noticing that something's wrong, and you have to admit, they're not exactly the most observant people."

Danny didn't answer.

"You know I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything," Tucker tried again. When he still got no answer he made one last attempt. "If you can't tell me, you can tell Sam."

No, I can't.

"She's worried about you, Danny. Really worried."

"Tell her she doesn't have to worry about me, alright?" Danny said as he pushed up off of his bed. "I'm fine, I've got everything covered. Nobody has to worry."

"Aright, alright," Tucker said, his hands raised to ward off the anger that radiated from the halfa. "You're fine, life is good. Got it."

Danny stopped suddenly, rubbed the back of his neck as he stood there awkwardly. "Look, I'm sorry."

"You might want to work on controlling your temper," Tucker said quietly. "Glowing green eyes on Danny Fenton are bound to raise some questions."

Danny passed a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah. Thanks." When he opened his eyes they were again bright blue, if a little tired.

"I've got to get home. You get some sleep, Danny. You need it," Tucker said and let himself out with a backward glance. He knew that between ghosts, school, and the normal anxieties of being a teenager, Danny was stretching himself thin. There was no other way for Danny to be, really, but he was determined to do it all by himself.

Especially since the attacks before Thanksgiving. Tucker shook his head. Danny was not alright, and Sam was right to be worried. Something had to happen before it broke Danny down. Something had to happen soon, because Tucker thought that point wasn't too terribly far away. Not if Danny was losing control of his powers like he just had.

Quietly Tucker left and found his way home.

Up in his room Danny was leaning against his door, the lock turned and debating on whether or not he wanted to move anything in front of the door. It was true that sometimes Jazz would try and break the door down to check on him, but she was busy with homework and thought he was too. He heard another door close down the hall shortly after the front door clicked shut and knew his parents had turned in for the night.

We're worried about you.

They were worried about him. He was acting strange, he wasn't himself. They worried. He winced and restrained himself from going ghost and flying out to find some hapless idiot who'd escaped the Ghost Zone to take his anger out on. Tucker was right about that. He needed to work on that.

You can tell me anything.

He sighed and left the door alone, not moving anything in front of it. If Jazz wanted to try and come in he could always go invisible or intangible and avoid her. It wasn't like he was trying to keep secrets, now was it? He laughed a little, bitter and harsh. Oh no, he wasn't trying to keep secrets, he mocked himself as he opened the center drawer to his desk and pulled out a box of paperclips.

He opened it and stainless steel glinted up at him.

You can tell Sam.

No, he really couldn't. He wished he could tell her, tell Tucker, tell anyone. But it was just too dangerous. It was too much, for them especially. They kept his secret, he's greatest secret, and had never told anyone. They'd hold it inside until they died because of it, and that made it his fault.

"My greatest secret," he said quietly as he plucked a razorblade from the box.

It was no longer that Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom. Not anymore. Now his greatest secret was one he kept even from the people he trusted most. Even from the girl he loved the most. His greatest secret was much darker and more painful than either she or Tucker could even imagine.

She's worried about you

The first cut was cleanly made across the flesh just beneath his elbow. The shirt had been pushed up, sleeve bunched around his upper arm as he made quick, careful slashes down the length of his arm. One, two, ten, fifteen. Blood welled red and bright from each of them and trickled slowly down around his arm to bead and fall from the underside as he ran the blade across unbroken skin, not hard enough for it to bite in, but hard enough for it to leave thin red welt behind.

The threat of broken, bloody skin.

He dropped the razorblade on his desk and tossed the box back into the drawer. In a smooth motion he tugged the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, kicking it aside as he scooped up the blade and collapsed at the foot of his bed, one arm red and slick, the other merely scarred.

Sam's worried.

He wiped the blade carefully on his sweatpants before holding the clean steel in his hand above the pristine skin of his right arm. He always started on the left, probably because he was right handed. It made sense. It was probably why he had more scars on it than the right. Though those scars tended to be much neater, much shallower than anything his left hand controlled.

There really was no control, he realized as the blade bit in deeply. More deeply than he intended, but the pain welled pure and free as blood began to flow more easily from this arm than the other. Maybe this time… He cut again and sighed at the new wave of stinging, burning pain the blade left behind. Untainted. There was nothing behind this except his own self loathing.

Nothing but the way he hated himself. He cut again. Nothing but the guilt that tore at him. Cut again. Nothing but the disgust that he could fail so badly, for everyone else, for himself. Again. Nothing but the way her blood had stood out bright red against pale skin, and the purple-blue bruising that was marring it.

And again.

They were much deeper than he'd intended, he realized as the blade slipped from nerveless fingers. Blood dripped silently as he dropped from the bed to the floor, trailing behind him as he crawled dizzily to where he had kicked the shirt away. He grabbed it up, left handed, and wound it carefully around his right forearm, hoping that it would be enough.

He wasn't sure if he could die. He wasn't sure if he wanted to yet. But maybe this time… Danny silently thought the thought as his eyes closed and he slumped to the cold floor.

---

"You talked to him?" Sam asked Tucker as she pulled out her history text and closed her locker.

Tucker shrugged as he fiddled with his PDA. "That's an accurate way to put it, you know."

"What do you mean?" she asked as she dragged Tucker to their next period, the first one they shared with Danny. He hadn't shown p to walk with them to school, something that might have worried her before Phantom had come to be. Now she only assumed that his absence had to do with ghosts, and spent the intervening time trying to come up with any excuse to keep him out of detention.

"At him is what I mean," Tucker replied as they ducked into the classroom seconds before the bell went off. "I'll tell you what happened later," he whispered as they found their seats in the back of the room and dragged out books and paper.

Sam sighed and had to let it go as attendance was called. Danny was the only one missing and there was really nothing that came to mind to tell the teacher when she asked Sam accusingly. "I haven't talked to him since yesterday. Maybe he's sick," she said with a shrug and turned to the assignment written on the board at the front of the room.

The hour long class was more than half over when the door opened and Danny slunk in, all eyes on him. "You're late, Mr. Fenton," was the only thing said to him as he found his seat next to Sam.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and Sam glanced up at the teacher who was watching Danny, surprised. It was then that Sam noticed how pale he was, and she felt Tucker poke her in the side as he craned around her to stare, too.

"Are you okay, Danny?" she whispered.

He shook his head and turned away, pulling out a notepad and scribbling the assignment down on it before grabbing his book and opening it to the assigned chapter. She spent the last twenty minutes of class trying to get him to take a note from her, from Tucker of course but with her own additions in it. He refused to even look at them as he wrote furiously, trying to finish the assignment before bell.

And when the bell rang he was gone before either of them had done more than dump their books into their backpacks.

"That was weird," Sam said to Tucker.

Tucker only stared at the seat as he shrugged his backpack on. "There's blood on his desk," he said quietly, pulling a piece of notebook paper out of Sam's folder before she put it away and wiping at the red stains. "Must have been some fight. Explains why he looks like hell."

"Yeah," she echoed as he dropped the paper in the wastebasket on their way out. "What happened last night?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. I've got a free period right now, what do you have?" he asked.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Tucker, the year is almost over. You should know my schedule by now. I know yours and Danny's. He knows both of ours, even with the way he's been acting."

Tucker smiled and pulled his PDA out again, poking it with the wand and smiling. "You have trigonometry."

"So you know I'll skip."

"Indeed I do. Library?"

"Library," she said decisively.

"It's nothing much," he finally said when they'd settled themselves in the back of the library, books piled around them and opened randomly so they looked like they were actually doing something. "It was just… weird."

"Weird how?" Sam asked as she tugged out a blank sheet of paper and began doodling on it.

"Weird like Danny lost control of his powers weird."

Sam's eyes shot to his and her moth fell open. "It's serious."

Tucker nodded. "Real serious. I tried to get him to talk to me, told him everyone was worried. It's nothing that hasn't been said before, so it was routine. Then I told him if he couldn't talk to me he could talk to you, and he got… He got real irritated. Told me he was fine, everything was fine, and pretty much it was a 'back off' type thing."

"So he's having mood swings now?" she asked dryly. "Maybe we should just ask him if it's that time of the month."

"No, I don't think so. And eww." Tucker sighed and put the PDA down, catching Sam's attention since he never willingly put his baby down for anything that wasn't life or death. "When he was telling me to back off, you know, how everything was fine and no one needed to worry… I told him he needed to work on his temper. Cause, you know, green eyes on Danny Fenton would be suspicious, right?"

Sam nodded.

"But the thing is, I don't think he even knew his powers were coming out," Tucker said slowly.

"Well, if it was just his eyes," Sam started as she scribbled through a random doodle of a ghost.

"Bt it wasn't," Tucker interrupted. "I only told him it was just his eyes. Sam, his hands were glowing. It looked like they were on fire, green fire, and it was pretty obvious."

"Ouch," she said as she sat back in the chair. "So what do we do?"

He shrugged. "We try and get Danny to talk about it, I guess. But you can try this time, I already gave it a go last night."

"You're all heart, Tucker," Sam said with a laugh. "Alright. I'll corner him after school."

"Maybe you should do it sooner, Sam," Tucker suggested quietly. "If someone gets him going he might slip up without realizing it."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, lost in thought. "But you have to admit, the thought of Dash getting what's coming to him is really entertaining."

"Yeah. Think you could wait until after school?"

"Tucker," she said warningly.

Which is why Sam wasn't in the lunchroom at lunch time, the most obvious place for a sixteen year old boy to be. Nearly seventeen, she thought with a smile. Another month and Danny would be having a technogoth party planned by his two best friends. She hoped he wouldn't mind black icing. But it was just too funny, since the cake was for just the three of them, and she'd managed to find a caterer who could put the Danny Phantom symbol on it.

Of course, saying she was a fangirl had been embarrassing.

But nothing as embarrassing as the fact she was stalking Danny as he ate lunch silently with Tucker. Tucker had made up an excuse for her absence. He'd told Danny that Sam had skipped trig and she was suffering for it now. Which wasn't true. Sam had passing marks in trig, like most of her classes, and her teacher didn't really care if she didn't show up as long as she was on school grounds and not breaking any other rules.

Her trig teacher rocked.

But she was peering through the window in the door like an idiot as she waited for Danny to finish his lunch. Except, she noticed, he wasn't really eating it. He was still pale, and he was mostly just sitting there pushing his food around on his tray. Which wasn't normal. Serious, she thought again as she watched him finally push away from the table and grab the tray and his backpack.

He dumped the tray into the trash and shoved it through the window for dishes before shouldering his bag and heading out through the doors. Sam let out a yelp as the door nearly hit her and the expression on Danny's face was comical as he realized who had been behind the door.

"Sam?" he said. "Aren't you supposed to be working on your math paper?"

She shot him a half smile. "I just wanted to talk to you for a second. See if you're okay."

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

There was a faint noise from behind the door and they both looked through to see Dash and Paulina dumping their food into the garbage. "Let's get out of here," she muttered and grabbed his hand, pulling him along behind her until they came to the auditorium. "It's empty," she declared as she looked around.

"I said I was fine," he muttered into the emptiness.

"And I know you're lying, Danny," Sam said softly as she stared back at him. "We cleaned up the blood on your desk after second period. Was it bad?"

Danny winced. He hadn't realized he'd been bleeding until he'd made through most of third period, and even then all he could do was ask for a pass and try and blot the wounds down his right arm with toilet paper and hope they wouldn't break open again. The way Sam asked he knew that she and Tucker assumed he'd been late because of a fight.

Not that he'd been late because he was trying to clean up the blood that had seeped into the wood of his floor, hide the shirt that was nothing more than a blood soaked scrap of garbage. Clean up the blood that had dried into rusty streaks across his arms and hands.

"It was fine," he said.

"It wasn't, Danny," she said softly as she stepped closer to him and picked at his shirt. "If it was fine you wouldn't be wearing long sleeves in April. You're trying to hide it from everyone else, I know, but you don't have to hide it from us. From me."

He jerked back like he'd been burned and closed his eyes against the hurt in her eyes. "I said it was fine, Sam."

"Danny," she started to say and he turned, pushing the door open and walking out. Not this time, she thought fiercely. And out loud, "You're not walking away this time, Daniel Fenton," as she grabbed onto his arm and jerked him back.

And let go in panic when he gasped and went pale as he clutched his arm to his chest. His right arm, she realized, and she looked at her hand, turning it over and looking back up at him as she found her skin soaked red with blood. "Danny?" she asked, and he said nothing, just shrunk back against the wall like she was going to hurt him.

"Danny," she whispered as she grabbed his hand and pulled his arm away from his chest, pushing the sleeve up carefully and inhaling sharply as she saw six deep, bleeding gashes across the inside of his forearm. "Why didn't you say something, we could have…"

And her voice trailed off and stopped to silence as she saw the scars that riddled his arm from wrist to elbow, and above she realized as she saw more disappearing underneath the sleeve. Scars old, scars new, and too many of them for it to be from accidents or fights. She looked up at him, lavender meeting icy blue, and he looked away, closing his eyes as her fingers found his other arm and deftly tugged the sleeve up.

"Oh, Danny," she whispered as she found more. More bloody barely healed cuts, more scars, more damage. More pain, she realized and looked back up at him, her hands still on his arm, hot against his cool skin. "Danny, why?"

He didn't open his eyes, didn't look at her, didn't say anything. Didn't try and explain or defend himself. She looked back down and realized that where she had grabbed on his right arm was bleeding freely, and she bit her lip as she dropped her book bag down and searched through it, finally coming up with an old shirt she was supposed to decorate in art that afternoon.

She'd rather take the F for not bringing it in than let Danny bleed anymore than he already was. She wrapped it around his arm, red staining the outside of the white material as blood wiped from her hands onto it. When she looked back up at Danny his eyes were on her, and she blinked hotly. She hadn't realized she was even crying until then.

"Why, Danny? Why would you do this to yourself?" she asked him.

"Because it hurts," he whispered and faded from view.

---

"Sam, are you sure—"

"Of course I'm sure," Sam said patiently for the fifth time that afternoon. "I told you, you saw it, too."

Tucker sighed and fidgeted as the stood outside of Casper High, waiting for Danny and pushing their tardies up by one more as the bell rang. "I'm just saying that maybe you're overreacting a little. Maybe Danny had a fight and was too embarrassed to say how bad he'd been hurt."

"Tucker," Sam said, and it was close to a growl. "Trust me; it wasn't an accident or a fight. He's been… He's been doing it for a while. He has to have been, there were just too many."

"I still think you're overreacting. I know it looked like a lot of blood, but maybe it wasn't, you know?" Tucker said as he grabbed his backpack and Sam's, then her and dragged her inside the front hall of the school.

"A little bit of blood. Yeah," she said sarcastically. "That was what was left after I wiped most of it off bandaging what he'd done."

Tucker was silent. He'd heard it before and didn't want to argue with Sam again. But it was hard for him to believe that Danny was cutting himself intentionally, no matter how addictive the trend seemed to be. Despite how he played devil's advocate to Sam, he'd researched it, even finding some really informative websites about it.

"He hasn't been to school in over a week," Sam said quietly as she paused outside of history to take her bag from Tucker.

"I know," Tucker said. "Maybe he just needs some time to himself."

They opened the door and walked in, heads down and hands firmly gripping the straps of their backpacks. There was a sigh from the teacher and the expected, "Detention this afternoon, Ms. Manson, Mr. Foley."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused as they slipped into their seats.

"I tried to talk to the Fenton's again last night, but they couldn't stop asking me how Danny kept managing to get past them and to his room. They've been trying to corner him for skipping," Tucker whispered as he opened his notebook and began copying the assignment from the board.

"Yeah. I tried talking to Jazz, but every time I started to tell her how worried I was about Danny she went psycho-nuts on me and tried to analyze what I was saying," Sam whispered back. "She actually tried to tell me that my concern for him is directly linked to how I feel about him. Like I need a shrink to tell me that."

Tucker started to laugh and quickly turned it into a cough as the teacher leveled a glare at them. "Sorry," he muttered. "Dry throat."

After a few minutes of silence he turned back to Sam, whispering, "Well, if you really think it's this serious… All the hotlines say to tell someone you trust. We could corner his parents tonight, together."

Sam thought about it for a minute, then shook her head as she chewed in her pencils. "Someone we trust?" she asked quietly. He nodded and she gave him a weak smile. "I actually think Lancer is going to be good for something," she said to him.

"Lancer?" Tucker exclaimed loudly and half the class turned to glare at him.

"Mr. Foley, is there a problem?" the teacher asked from her desk.

"Nope, no problem at all," he said quickly as he lowered his head and began to furiously write.

"Ms. Manson?" came the expected question, and Sam actually smiled a little.

"Actually, yeah. There is a problem. I need to talk to Mr. Lancer," she said evenly as Tucker glanced up at her, worry on his face. "I need to talk to him right now." And without waiting Sam shoved her books into her bag and got up, shouldering it all and walking out of the classroom without a backwards glance.

She knew she was just begging for a month's worth of detention when she boldly opened the door to Mr. Lancer's classroom, interrupting his lecture on a book by someone who'd been dead for centuries, but she didn't really care. He was surprised to see her there when he turned to nail whoever interrupted him with a detention, and she only stepped into the room as he looked at her agape.

"Can I talk to you please?" she asked politely, stepping back out of the classroom and waiting for him to follow. It was a trick she'd learned from her father: expect and you shall receive. At least when dealing with people. As long as she acted like she expected him to concede to her request, there was no polite way he could get out of it. And she had been polite. Painful though that was.

"I trust you have a good reason for taking me out of class, Ms. Manson?" Lancer said as he closed the door behind him, leaving them alone together in the empty hallway.

"It's about Danny," she said in a rush. "I know what happened freshman year with the C.A.T., and how you really did everything you could to make him not cheat." He opened his mouth and she shook her head. "Don't ask, you wouldn't believe me. But I think Danny is in trouble, and I don't know how to get his family to help him."

"I'm assuming it's something you and Mr. Foley can't help with?" Lancer asked, no longer angry at the slender girl. The obvious agitation in her and the undercurrent of deep worry was obvious to him, and he knew that if it was something she was coming to him about, of all people, then it was serious indeed.

"Danny's cutting," she said hurriedly.

Lancer looked at her, perplexed. "We have that on record already. He's missed eight days of school in a row, today will be his ninth. His family knows and I'm under the impression that Mr. Fenton is pulling some impressive tactics to avoid them."

Sam sighed and shook her head. "Not class, Mr. Lancer. Himself."

"I see," came the surprised response.

"He's…" Sam paused. She couldn't tell the teacher everything. Hell, she knew she could only touch on a few of the things that obviously had set Danny down the dangerous road he was walking. But she had to try, she had to at least try. Maybe if she could make him understand that there were things Danny kept secret… Maybe. "He's got a lot of pressure on him," she said carefully.

"What kind of pressure would make him turn to this?" Lancer asked, and she was relieved at the genuine concern. She'd made the right choice, she'd found someone who could talk to Danny's parents instead of her and Tucker. Someone they'd listen to. She hoped.

"I can't tell you everything, Mr. Lancer," she said truthfully. "Some of it… You wouldn't believe if I told you. And it's not even my secret to tell, so please don't ask. Let's just say that between school and this secret, Danny's… I don't know," she finished on a whisper. "I think he's going insane. He's trying to protect me and Tucker, and every time something happens it drives him down a little more."

"May I assume it's related to ghost hunting?" he asked carefully, knowing that breaking the trust the girl had put in him would mean there'd be less of a chance of him helping her and her friend.

"How did you know?" she gasped, lilac eyes flying up to his.

"His parents are ghost hunters."

"Oh," Sam said. "Yeah, it's something like that. Sort of. I know his parents are worried, I tried telling them what I know. Tucker did, too, but they weren't exactly listening. They're pretty upset with him right now, and besides, how am I supposed to tell them Danny's…" She stopped, unsure what to say.

"You don't. I'll tell them. And I'll take you back to class so you don't get in any trouble," he continued as he began walking with her back to her history class.

"Thanks, Mr. Lancer. I really mean that," she said as they stopped outside of the closed door.

"I know you do, Ms. Manson," he said gently. "And Sam?" She turned back to him, surprised when he addressed her by her first name. "It took a lot of guts to come to me. You're a good friend for Danny and Tucker."

She smiled a little and he watched her slip back into the class, nodding his head at his coworker to let her know that there were no detentions to be had for a student walking out of class. And with a sigh he turned back to his classroom, to arrange for someone to cover for him while he made a very important phone call.

---

"I can't believe you just walked out of her class," Tucker said to Sam as they walked out of history. "You have balls of steel."

"Breasts, Tucker. Breasts," she said and shot a dark look at a girl who stopped in her tracks as she heard what Sam said to Tucker. "He said he'd talk to them. Maybe he can help."

"I hope so," Tucker said fervently as they stopped at Sam's locker. "So you're actually going to trig?"

"Yeah," Sam said on a sigh. "I figure I might as well. Being bored to tears over math is better than worrying about Danny and what Lancer is going to say to his parents."

Tucker opened his mouth to reply when suddenly there was a shrill squeal from the PA system and he covered his ears with a wince. "Remind me that it sucks to have a locker under the loudspeaker when it's time to pick them out next year, alright?" he said to Sam.

She laughed. "I will," she said as Lancer's voice boomed from the speaker.

"Attention, students. Will Jazz Fenton, Sam Manson and Tucker Foley please report to my office. Immediately, students," came the announcement, and Sam slid a glance over at Tucker.

"This can't be good," she murmured as she shoved her things haphazardly into the locker and took off down the hall at a sprint.

Tucker followed her at a dead run and they rounded a corner two halls from the vice principal's office when they ran into Jazz, almost literally. "Come on," Sam said on the fly as an arm whipped out and grabbed Jazz, who shrieked as she struggled to keep up. Sam burst through Lancer's door out of breath with Tucker pushing Jazz through, all of them looking at him expectantly.

"You might want to sit down, children," he said wearily as he stood and closed the door behind Tucker. Jazz sat, but Sam and Tucker shook their heads and stood. "I spoke with your parents this morning, Ms. Fenton," he said as his glance passed to Sam and then back to Jazz.

"Why?" she asked, confused. "Is something wrong? Well, more wrong than Danny skipping," she added.

Lancer sighed. "You're all being excused for the rest of the day. Ms. Fenton, you'll need to take Danny's friends with you to the hospital. I'll take care of their assignments and I'll speak with your professor, but I'll trust you to drive carefully."

Sam went pale as she heard what Lancer said to Jazz and she wobbled a little against Tucker, who wrapped an arm around her. Seconds later he was helping her sit down in a chair. "Head between your knees, Sam. Breathe, okay? Breathe. You can't help Danny if you pass out."

"What the hell is going on?" Jazz asked loudly, upset and scared and angry that everyone else seemed to know. Or at least suspect.

"Ms. Manson came to me this morning with some disturbing information concerning your brother," Lancer started. Jazz shot a look at Sam and sat back down as she realized Sam was petrified of what Lancer was going to say. "Sam," and Jazz goggled at the first name, "said that Danny was hurting himself. That he was practicing something commonly called cutting."

Jazz paled and shook her head. "No, Danny wouldn't do that. I'd know if he was doing that." She turned to Sam and Tucker. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked accusingly. "I would have helped."

"Ms. Fenton," Lancer interrupted. "She tried to speak to your parents. But they didn't hear what she was trying to say. What either of them was trying to say," he added, including Tucker in the attempts.

Sam closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the chair. "What happened?" she asked quietly, startling the teacher as he prepared to tell Jazz exactly what Sam had said that morning. "It's bad, it has to be for you to let us all go. It has to be if he's in the hospital."

Lancer sighed. "I told his parents what you told me. To an extent," he said, "I explained it. Mrs. Fenton said she'd call me back, let me know if I was off base with my information. When she called me back she said that an ambulance was on the way. They found Danny in his room, unconscious."

Sam inhaled and bit her lip against the tears. "Is he alive?" she asked.

"He was when I hung up with her." He paused, unwilling to say more. Instead he picked up a paper from his desk and handed it to Jazz. "Their permission to leave campus. Drive carefully, and please keep me updated?"

Jazz nodded numbly and stood, Tucker and Sam not far behind as they followed her out to her car. "I guess we're lucky you were here today," Tucker said to Jazz as Sam slid into the backseat behind him, and Jazz cranked the car.

"Is he really?" she asked, ignoring what Tucker said.

"When's the last time you saw him in a short sleeved shirt?" Sam asked from the backseat.

"Before Thanksgiving," Jazz said quietly. "He really has been, hasn't he? He could have come to me," she whispered as she pulled into traffic, carefully working her way to the fast lane and pressing the accelerator.

"He wasn't even talking to us, Jazz," Tucker said. "Why would he talk to you? You're practically one of the teachers now."

"I am not," she replied automatically. "It's an internship for my psychology class."

From where Sam sat in the back she huddled against the seat, tuning them out as Sam and Tucker began to drown out their own worries by debating her internship versus a tenure ship. She closed her eyes as the sun glared down. This wasn't happening. Danny couldn't have, wouldn't have, she thought to herself.

Except he had. She'd seen the evidence of it herself, had worn his blood on her hands before she'd washed it off. It was too easy to picture exactly what he was going through, how he was trying to escape the pain of it all. Trying to control it by controlling the pain. Focusing it all in on something as insignificant as a small cut… Except they weren't that small.

She shuddered as she remembered how they had all seemed to wink at her, bloody and gaping as she stared in shock. No, they weren't so small, and the pain must have… It was amazing he was still sane. If he was. If he was even alive.

Sam was quiet as they pulled into the parking lot at the hospital and followed Jazz and Tucker numbly into the building. They paused at the information desk to get a map, none of them had been there before, no matter how bad Danny's injuries were. Which only drove it in harder that if Danny was alright, it still wasn't good.

The emergency room was mostly empty when they got there. There was a cubicle with the curtains closed, and another one with a boy and his mother, but there was no sign of the Fenton's. "Excuse me?" Jazz asked as a nurse walked past them. "I'm looking for my family? My brother was brought in…" She trailed off at the sudden flash of understanding on the man's face.

"Fenton, right?" Jazz nodded blindly. "Go up to the second floor, Waiting Room 2. They sent him into the OR, he won't be out yet."

"The OR?" she asked. "What happened that he needed to be operated on?"

The man shook his head. "Your family is up there. They have the answers," he said and gently turned Jazz around and pushed her in the direction of the elevators.

Sam followed, Tucker's arm tight around her as he whispered, "It'll be alright, Sam. He's tough. He's a survivor."

"Against everyone but himself," she said back quietly as the rode to the second floor.

"Jazz!" came a familiar booming voice as they stepped out of the elevator. "Maddie, they're here!" Jack Fenton rushed to his daughter and picked her up in a smothering bear hug that she would normally have protested against. This time she only threw her arms around her father's neck.

"Daddy, what happened? Is Danny okay?" she asked in a small voice.

His face fell a little, and Sam resolutely turned away as Maddie Fenton came up and gathered them all up, shooing them into the empty waiting room. Really empty, she realized as Maddie shut the door behind her, and Sam sat down in a corner, huddling into the chair as Tucker slid into the one next to her.

"Is he alive?" Tucker asked before anyone could say anything.

"Yes," Maddie said softly. "They're trying to repair the damage right now."

"What happened, Mom?" Jazz said, turquoise eyes wide with alarm.

Maddie smiled painfully and looked over at Sam and Tucker. "You were both trying to tell us he was sick, weren't you?" she asked. When they nodded, she smiled. "I appreciate it. I do, and I'm sorry we didn't understand. Jazz," she said, sitting and turning to her daughter. "You kids, too. You'll want to know, too, won't you? Mr. Lancer called us this morning, and he told us that Danny had been hurting himself. Cutting himself."

She stopped when someone walked past the door, tensed, and Sam sat up a little straighter wondering if the doctor was going to come in and tell them how Danny was. Wasn't, she realized, because Maddie relaxed and looked back at everyone else with a tired smile.

"We wanted to talk to Danny about it, so we tried to see if he was in his room. The door was locked, so your father tore it down." She shot a fond look at Jack when she said that and Sam was struck by how close and in love Danny's parents still were after more than twenty years of marriage. And how much they were willing to do to protect their children.

"Sweetie, we found Danny. He was… He'd cut himself. Again, if Mr. Lancer was right. I think he was," she said very quietly, and Sam knew she'd seen the scars, counted them up and down his arms. "We think it was an accident, we hope it was. It looked like he tried to commit suicide."

Jazz gasped out a 'no' at that, and Sam closed her eyes and buried her face in her arms. He'd tried to commit suicide. There was no way around that now, she knew it. Maybe a week ago she would have said otherwise, but knowing that… that he'd resort to self mutilation in an attempt to exert some control on his life…

"He was desperate," she choked out quietly. "He was so desperate, Jazz. You didn't see him last week when I found out."

"He's been changing for a while," Tucker said into the silence that followed Sam's words. "He hasn't even really been talking to us since what happened before Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving?" Maddie asked. When no one answered her she stood up, towering over Sam and Tucker. "What happened at Thanksgiving?" she asked, her voice like steel.

"Nothing they can tell you, Mom," Jazz said as she stood and ranged herself with the younger teens by sitting next to them. "It's Danny's secret. We can't tell you."

Maddie sat back down shaking her head. "There're secrets everywhere, aren't there? And most of them are Danny's, I expect," she added as she reached for Jack's hand, letting her smaller one be engulfed by his much larger one.

"He'll tell them," Sam said quietly to Tucker and Jazz after a few minutes. "He'll have to after this," she whispered to Tucker as he and Jazz turned wide eyes on her. "I don't think he can hide it anymore with the blood tests that are routine."

"Oh. Damn," Tucker said as Jazz blinked and then tossed a worried glance to where her parents were sitting watching the door. "Alright. We can fix it, right? I can hack into the computers and fix the results from looking… well, alien. Jazz, you can use your psychobabble on any of the doctors who think they know something is up."

Jazz nodded. "But after we find out if Danny is okay. What will Sam do?" she asked glancing at the pale girl in the corner.

"I'll wait for him to wake up," was all the answer she got.

---

The damage wasn't as extensive as they feared, Sam heard the doctors explaining to Danny's parents outside of the room he was in. a private room, she was grateful for that, and she dragged a chair closer to the bed and sunk down into it, one hand straying to lay next to his against the white sheets. She tuned them out, thankful that she'd heard us much as she cared about.

He wasn't going to die. Whether it had been accidental or intentional, the blood loss had been the worst of it. Stitching him back together… He'd cut through the tendons of his right wrist. She was more sure than every that it was intentional, now. That he'd really taken the easy way out.

Maybe, she thought as she looked at him, it wasn't really the easy way out. Not for someone like Danny. The easy way out… He'd already avoided that. He'd stopped himself from destroying his own life and becoming… evil. This was hard. This was him begging for help that he didn't know how to ask for or where to find it.

He was so pale, she thought. His hair was such an inky black. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping, and she found the telltales of recent ghost activity as she leaned forward and brushed his hair from his face. Faded bruises along one side, a scrape that trailed down his cheek to his neck. She wondered who it had been this time.

She wondered how he found the strength to do it, to fight still. When he was falling apart, he was still trying to protect everyone.

Sam sighed and looked up as the Fenton's came in, weary relief on their faces. "When is he supposed to wake up?" she asked without preamble.

"They said it would be anytime. The anesthesia wore off some time ago," Maddie said as she leaned over and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead.

She missed it, and so did Jack, but Sam saw the way his eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. "Did they say?" she asked without any other thought.

She watched Danny as Maddie answered. "It does look like he was trying to kill himself." The last was said in a painful whisper, and Sam clenched her jaw against the way Danny's yes twitched, and the moisture that was gathering suspiciously.

He's awake, she realized. He's not just waking up, he's awake.

"Are you hungry, Sam?" Maddie asked, killing Sam's train of thought. "We were going to go get some coffee. You should call your parents, too. Let them know Jazz will bring you home."

"I'm good, Mrs. Fenton," Sam said. "But thanks. And I'll call them."

"If he… wakes up, tell him we'll be right back?" Jack asked as his eyes strayed to Danny's pale face.

"I will," Sam promised, already breaking it. But then, Tucker had said it best. She was Danny's friend, and that meant she kept his secrets. Except when they're killing him, she amended silently as the Fenton's closed the door behind them. Sam got up and slipped the blinds at the door down, twisting the handle so that no one could see in.

She sat down in the chair again quietly and laid a hand over Danny's, careful not to touch the thick bandages on his arms. "You can stop pretending. They're gone now."

His eyes cracked open and the relief that rushed through her nearly made her cry as she saw his eyes, blue and bloodshot, but awake and aware. "You knew," he asked quietly, his throat aching.

"I knew," she answered just as quietly. "Did you…?"

He looked away, down at his hand where it was covered by hers. He turned it over with a grimace and she pulled her hand back before he could capture hers. He sighed. "Does it make a difference?"

"Yes," she said archly.

"Then yes," he said as he closed his eyes again.

"Why didn't you ask me or Tucker for help if everything was getting so overwhelming?" she asked as he found the button that would sit him up. She sighed as he grimaced, bending his arm and trying to press the button. "Let me," she said after a moment, poking it until he was sitting up and looking at her. "Is it really that hard to ask for a little help, Danny?"

"Sometimes."

"From me?"

He blinked and she was struck once again by how tired he looked. "Especially from you, Sam."

"Why?" she exclaimed, dropping back into the chair, and frowning when she saw the expression on his face. "A secret, right? Like this," she asked and ran a finger lightly down the bandages on one arm.

"Not like that," he said and grabbed her hand to stop her. "It's not like that. I just couldn't bear it if anything happened to you and Tucker because of me. But it happens anyway, and just because we're friends."

"But that's the point, Danny," she said as she stood and scooted up next to him on the hospital bed. "We're friends. We look out for each other, help each other out." She nearly jumped when the door opened and Jazz and Tucker burst in.

"It's fixed, everything's done," Tucker said, grinning as he saw Danny sitting up and awake.

"Danny!" Jazz shrieked and ran over to him, wrapping him in a hug and making him make protesting noises as she kissed his cheek. "You had us so worried, don't you ever do that again," she said as she shook a finger at him. Her glare softened. "We were really worried."

"More than worried, Danny," his mom said as she shoved past Jazz and wrapped him in another hug. "I was so scared when we found you. If Sam hadn't talked to Mr. Lancer, I don't know what would have happened."

He glanced at Sam frantically and she looked away. The anger burned for a moment, but Danny pushed it away. Not here, not now, he told it. Talk to her first. And he sighed. "I wouldn't be here, Mom," he said, closing his eyes.

He felt a hand slide into his and his eyes flashed open to see Sam holding onto him, fingers firm and warm against his. She smiled at him and he tried to smile back before looking at his parents. She squeezed his hand and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his cheek quickly. "I should probably go," and she turned to Tucker with a pointed stare.

"Yeah, me too," he echoed.

"Right. I'll take you home, and I'll go home too," she added without having to be told. She didn't care, really, as long as Danny was alright. Or at least as okay as he was going to be for now.

"We'll see you tonight, Jazz," Jack called after her as the door swung shut, and he turned back to Danny and Maddie, eyes serious. "Danny, what's been going on?"

Danny sighed and shifted back against the mattress. "I can't tell you, Dad. Not now, not here. Ask me again at home, and I'll tell you. I promise." He blinked as he remembered the last time he'd made a promise this serious—to Clockwork, to his family, to save them from himself.

He'd have to tell them.

He'd have to pray that it wouldn't go as badly as he'd dreamt.

---

"It's still all over school," Sam said as she handed Danny a glass of water. "Even the A-List is buzzing about it. Paulina is positively jealous that you're getting more attention that her."

He gave her a dark look at that. "Right, because upstaging Paulina with a suicide attempt is so much better than being Fenton the loser."

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes."

It had been two days since Danny had been allowed to come home after a five day hospital stay. He'd gotten cards, letters, flowers, and a very strange visit from Mr. Lancer. Despite how much he despised teachers for making his life harder, Danny had stepped back from that one and accepted that Lancer wasn't such a bad guy.

That had only happened that afternoon, and it was still heavy on his mind. "I can't believe you told Lancer," he said as Sam sat back on his bed.

"I can't believe you're pissed about it when it saved your life."

"Touché," he said with a grin. "But still, it's kind of weird knowing I owe my life to a teacher who's made it a living hell."

"And us," Tucker said from under the desk where he was busy sorting out wires for the racing game he'd brought over to keep Danny occupied. "You owe your life to us, too."

"And it's likewise, so it doesn't count," Sam said as she nudged Danny with a foot. "Have you told them yes?"

Danny shook his head. "I have to. Today, I think. I'm supposed to go back to school on Monday."

"That should be interesting," Sam said as she ran a finger down Danny's right arm. The old scars looked bad enough, but even with superior healing the marks were he'd been stitched back together were an angry, violent red. He ran a hand over them and then stopped, looking up at Sam as she smiled. "How'd the shrink convince them to send you back?"

He laughed. "Jazz told them it was better for me to get back into the hang of things before I became more of a social outcast than I already am. Okay," he said at her arched eyebrow. "She didn't really say it like that. But you have to admit she did a great job getting rid of the other one."

"If only your parents knew," Tucker called and then cursed. "I'm alright, it was only a little shock."

"You still haven't asked," he said. "Neither of you have."

She shrugged. "Between the two of us, I think we get it pretty alright." She reached a hand out to his and he took it, looking up at her with a faint smile.

"If you two are going to keep having blushy moments, I'm taking the game and leaving," Tucker muttered from under the desk.

Sam snatched her hand back and glared as her cheeks turned red. Danny, however, just shrugged. "Life's short," was all he said and reached back out to grab onto Sam's hand and hold it firmly. "Besides, I hear you and Valerie are getting pretty close to official."

Tucker stuttered and ducked back under the desk. "Yeah, well, Val echoes your life's short sentiment." He crawled back out. "I'm taking her to prom."

"Don't even go there, Tuck," Sam said before he could say anything about Danny taking Sam. "Look, I know you want me and Tucker to be there when you tell them, so let's do it, okay?"

The abrupt change of subject made Danny's heart beat a little faster. But he didn't try and say no. Instead he nodded. "Might as well. I'd like to have tomorrow free. Unless they decide to lock me up and perform all kinds of crazy and extremely painful experiments on me."

"Yeah, what is it your dad wants to do?" Tucker asked.

"I believe that that one is to rip me apart, molecule by molecule," he said as he stood up, dragging Sam along as he barreled out of his room and down the stairs. "Mom! Dad! I need to talk to you," he yelled. Footsteps pounded down the stairs behind him and Sam, Tucker's and Jazz's, and Jazz's eyes were wide.

"Now, Danny?" she asked, and he nodded.

"We'll be right up, Danny," came the shouted answer from the lab, and Danny glanced back at his friends and sister.

"You know, I haven't really thought about how I'm going to do this." He shrugged and two silvery rings flashed at his waist as he shifted to ghost mode. "This should be as good as any, you think?"

Footsteps from the stairwell to the lab had Sam and Tucker shifting in front of Danny out of habit, and Jazz was already opening her mouth to distract her parents when they appeared. "Where's Danny?" his mom asked brightly. "I thought he wanted to talk to us."

"I'm right here," he said quietly as he pushed past Sam and Tucker, ignoring their gasps as he stood in front of his parents as Danny Phantom. "This is why," was all he said.

"Danny?" Jack asked carefully, reaching out to touch him and stopping just short.

Danny flinched at that, and the hurt look on his mother's face. "You're Danny Phantom?" she asked.

"Yeah." He closed his eyes and felt the familiar sensation side through him as he became Danny Fenton again. "Yeah, I'm him. He's me. No overshadowing, no tricks."

"But you're not dead," Jack said, not offering to touch him still.

"Actually, Dad, I am," he said. "Half dead, technically. It happened when I was fourteen, the day I got zapped by the Portal."

"But you said…" and she turned to lay accusing glares on Sam and Tucker. "You both said that he wasn't in it, that he was next to it."

"Mom," Danny said. "Dad. It wasn't their fault. They've been keeping this secret because I asked them to."

"Why?" Maddie asked.

"Really, Mom," Jazz said as she moved up to stand by Danny and slide an arm around his waist. He was too tall for her to hope to reach his shoulder, but the effect was still one of solidarity. "That's a silly question. The way you and dad carry on about killing Phantom, why would Danny tell you?"

"She has a point, Maddie," Jack said.

Danny shook his head and shifted back to ghost, ignoring Jazz when she shivered next to him at the energies that washed over him as he did. "You know, this went better last time," he said to her and drifted up from the floor, phasing through the ceiling and into the hallway. One more phase and he was in the op-center, and another had him soaring through the air above it.

The sun was starting to set as he drifted higher still and to the northeast, in the direction of the beach and Lake Michigan. He blanked his mind and let himself drift as day turned to night and the stars came out to shine brilliantly above him.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to fly among them. His dreams to be an astronaut had died a terrible little death a long time ago when he realized that his ghost hunting would either kill him or keep him too busy to try. But he wondered if he could just keep going higher until he was up there, outside of the atmosphere and floating lazily through the universe like the forgotten accident that he was.

The thought was appealing, but the closer he came the more he thought about his family, his friends. They'd already sacrificed so much for him. He'd sacrificed, too. Too much to just give in and run away. Hadn't he already tried that once? And they'd stopped him.

No matter how much Sam wanted to defer responsibility, if she hadn't decided then and there to talk to Lancer, he'd be dead. Buried. And by now, possibly starting to decompose. And maybe he'd have found himself in the Ghost Zone again, as a permanent resident this time. But she'd done something, and that something had saved his life.

He turned away from the moon and flew back down, phasing through the wall of his room and shifting back to human once more in the darkness. With a sigh he reached out and turned on his desk lamp, then yelped as he saw two sleeping lumps, one at his desk, the other on his bed.

"What're you guys still doing here?" he asked as Sam sat up stretching and Tucker yawned.

"What, did you think we'd leave you alone after telling your parents?" Sam asked. And when he did nothing but laugh a little and rub his neck she rolled her eyes. "Of course you did, which is why we're still here at one in the morning."

"By the way," Tucker said as he rolled the chair over to the bed. "Your sister really gave your parents a dressing down. Though they are a little peeved about the whole Freakshow thing."

"Yeah," Sam said as she snuggled back down on the bed. "You should've just let them remember after that."

"Ha, ha," Danny said as he sat down on his bed. "How are they taking it, really?"

"They're upset, confused. They feel guilty. Jazz is annoyed that you took off, but everyone understood it." Tucker stood up, stretching. "I am going to take over the couch. Don't do anything I wouldn't," he called after him as he took off, closing the door behind him.

"They don't hate me?" he asked Sam.

"They don't hate you, Danny. We talked to them, told them pretty much everything," she said. "I think they understand now. Especially after we told them about Clockwork and what happened that day."

"You mean what didn't happen," he said with a sigh. "And it won't, either."

"Danny, can I ask you something?" she said quietly, and he nodded. She shifted and held a hand out, dropping a cardboard box that tumbled over to lay four razor blades out on the bed between them. "Are you still?"

He swallowed and picked a blade up, holding it carefully between his fingers. Sam watched the abject longing that raced across his face and settled, and then was gone in an instant as fierce determination settled instead. "No," he said in a soft strained voice. "I haven't. And I won't."

He dropped the blade back down on the bed and stood up abruptly, pacing over to the window and staring out of it. "It's… It's like a release," he said softly. "Everything else, the stress, the constant fear, the way I'm walking around like a giant bruise half the time. When I… When I cut, it's like I can focus all of it down for as long as I can feel the pain. It doesn't go away, it just becomes something different. Something I can control."

He felt a slim arm slide through his and turned his head, looking down at her. "You got short," he said with a crooked smile.

She smiled up at him. "You got tall, Danny. You got strong, too. I know it's hard for you. But didn't you wonder what it would do to everyone else if you did manage to kill yourself?"

"Yes," he said, more out of the habit of agreeing with her than because he meant it, and he realized it as soon as it slipped past his lips. "No. I didn't think about it. I didn't really care, I figured everyone would be safer without me."

"Danny," she whispered and turned into him, burying her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He was startled for a moment, but without really thinking about it he slipped his arms around her and held her close, pressing a kiss to her hair and resting his cheek against the top of her head.

"I'd be lost without you," she whispered. "Sometimes I think I already am."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam," he said fiercely as he tilted her face up to his. "If I'm going to die, someone's going to have to kill me," he whispered.

"I don't want anyone to kill you," she replied honestly as she rose on her toes and pressed her lips against his. She closed her eyes as he held her against him and let her hands slide up his arms until she could feel his hair soft under her hands, tangling around her fingers.

"I don't want to lose you," she said when he finally pulled back and then held her close in a hug that was almost painful. "I don't want to lose you," she repeated as she felt a wet warmth against her neck, and she held him tighter as she realized he was crying.

"It's alright, Danny," she whispered as she stroked his back. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright. I promise. I promise," she repeated as she held him.

---

Danny's first week back at school had been interesting to say the least. Between the odd treatment from the faculty to the near hero worship of some of the students, he was heartily ready to throw the towel in by the time his second week was starting. It didn't help that he'd spent the week before establishing that people cared more about the fact that Danny Fenton was alive than that Paulina Sanchez was hosting a party that weekend, and he already knew from Sam and Tucker that the turn out had been less than spectacular.

"So now I have to spend the last month of school avoiding Paulina and Dash and praying that no ghosts come to town and try to do serious damage while they're on my case, that's what you're saying," he said to Sam as they walked to school with Tucker and Valerie.

"Pretty much. Don't you love being you?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

"Ack, blushy moment," Tucker exploded with as he yanked his PDA out, and then yelped again as Valerie snatched it away.

"I swear, Tucker. You want them together so bad that you sabotage them yourself," she said in disgust as she shoved the device into her own backpack and sped up, letting Tucker trail behind her and beg at the same time.

Danny just shook his head and grinned. "Sometimes I do love being me," he said as he shoved his hip against Sam's. "Valerie took it better than I thought she would," he said, staring after the other ghost hunter consideringly.

"Well, considering Tucker's been priming her for months…" she said and laughed at Danny's bemused expression. "Newsflash, Danny. I think Tucker might actually be serious with Valerie Gray. And I think she might be, too."

"Great. Maybe they'll get the lovebirds label, you think?"

"Not a chance," she shot back and let her hand brush his before hurrying up. The kiss that they shared the night he finally broken hadn't been repeated, but Sam was beginning to believe it was more of a 'Danny's too shy' deal than he just didn't want to. But she was determined not to push him before he was ready. After all, he had enough problems without a relationship. "How're your parents doing?" she asked as the school came into view.

"Better. Mom still flips out a little when I go on patrol, but it's nice not having to hide it anymore," he said as they stopped in front of the school. "Dad takes it in stride. I think he likes having a go at whoever I catch before I release them. You should have seen how he dismantled Skulker on Friday night."

"So it was Skulker?" she asked as the pushed through the doors and headed fro his locker.

"Yeah. He was hunting me again."

"Think he's figured out that it's not a good idea?" she asked as Danny dumped his backpack into the locker and readjusted the long-sleeved shirt he wore over his regular tee-shirt. He reached back in and grabbed out his history text, and shoved a notebook at Sam.

"You left yours at my house last night," he said as she took it. "And I think Skulker might think twice. You should've seen how he reacted when he realized my parents had a hold of him."

"So everyone in the Ghost Zone knows you're outed?" she asked as she reached into his locker before he shut it. "Needed a pencil," she said as she waved one in front of him and followed him to first period.

"Yeah. Even Plasmius. I told him very politely that I hadn't outed him," Danny said as they slid into their seats and looked around for Tucker. "You know, he asked how I was. Sometimes I think he actually likes me beyond the whole halfa thing."

Sam laughed. "Wait, no. That's kind of creepy."

"You're telling me."

"What's creepy?" Tucker asked as he slid into his seat breathless at the bell.

"Don't ask," Danny and Sam chorused.

By lunch Tucker was practically salivating at the withheld information, and Valerie was even begging them to spill, if only to get Tucker to actually do something other than try and figure out what it was. Danny was still shaking his head and being generally amused when he was jerked from the chair he was sitting in with a loud ripping from his shirt.

Without thinking about it Danny executed an impressive spin that sent him in the air with the barest touch of his ghost powers, pulling him from the grip he'd been in and he dropped back into a fighting stance out of habit. Sam was screaming at Danny not to hurt Dash, Tucker was yelling for a teacher, and Valerie was mostly sitting back in surprise. Danny caught that one out of the corner of his eye and gave a thought to a quick smile as she realized that Danny had been telling the truth about always holding back on her.

"Back off, Dash," Danny said clearly as he dropped his fists. "I'm not in the mood."

"Too bad, Fenton," the jock spat as he moved forward.

As Danny absently ducked a fist he realized that his label for Dash had shifted from much larger and extremely powerful jock to just jock. Dash no longer had inches on Danny, and the only advantage he actually had was the fact that he weighed a great deal more.

In fact, Danny realized, Dash was on the same level as he was, and he blocked the next punch, barely flinching when Dash's other hand tore at his shirt, trying to drag him closer. There was another rip and Danny realized that all he had left of the over shirt was the sleeve on the arm that was holding Dash at bay. The other, his left arm and definitely the better looking of the two, was completely exposed, and Danny narrowed his eyes, not realizing that the minor annoyance he'd been feeling had turned into a full fledged green tinged fury.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Danny spat as he tore the remaining sleeve off defiantly. "I didn't do a damned thing to you."

Dash smirked as he let his gaze roam over the collection of scars on Danny's arms, and Danny narrowed his eyes again, shaking off the hands that tried to hold him back.

"You're a freak, Fenton. Nothing but a freak," he said as he picked a chair up and threw it at Danny. For his part Danny didn't even try and dodge, subconsciously remembering his promise to protect Sam and Tucker and now, he realized as the chair hit him, Valerie.

But the smirk on Dash's face as the chair stopped dead against Danny's lean frame disappeared as he realized that other than a little bruising, it hadn't done anything at all. And he'd been counting on it to put the other boy down quickly so that he could kick him while he was down.

"You are a freak," Dash said as he advanced on Danny. "I'm going to pound you into the ground for ruining the party," he said as he swung again and Danny stepped back in time for it to whip past his nose.

"I didn't have anything to do with the party!" Danny yelled angrily as dash took another swing at him and this time managed to get his hands on Danny's shirt and send him flying into a table. The wood cracked and Danny kicked his legs backwards, rolling rear over head and regaining his feet more quickly than anyone but those who knew him best expected.

"You had to come back to school, loser!" Dash yelled and picked up a piece of the table, swinging it at Danny and stumbling back when Danny caught the piece in his hands and with a calculated twist sent Dash stumbling back onto the ground. "You came back and all anyone cared about was you," he yelled as he ducked low and rushed Danny, catching him around the waist and slamming him back into the wall.

With a grunt Danny hit and lifted his hands over his head, bracing himself against the wall as he lifted his feet and sent Dash to the ground with a solid kick to the gut. "I didn't have anything to do with the party," he said again, and Dash narrowed his eyes as he saw Sam and Tucker trying to get between him and Danny.

"So maybe I'll rough up your loser friends," he said, "since you didn't have anything to do with it. We'll start with your girlfriend," he said as he reached out and snagged Sam, yanking her close to him.

Danny realized later on that Dash probably wasn't actually going to do anything to Sam, or even Tucker. He realized that Dash had been trying to set him off. But at that precise moment Danny didn't really give a damn, and before Sam could do more than swing an elbow into Dash's side Danny was there, one hand twisting Dash's arm like it was a pretzel and the other snatching Sam back and pushing her to Tucker.

"Get out of here," he said in a deadly calm voice, and without hesitation several of the students who were nearest the fight picked up belongings and vacated the lunchroom. Sam and Tucker, however, didn't. Valerie did, but only to try and find someone who might actually put a stop to the insanity, since Tucker hadn't had much luck. Of course Tucker had only looked long enough to realize that Danny wasn't exactly letting himself get kicked around, and had thought that maybe it'd be good for Danny to put Dash in his place.

Valerie, however, was very aware that what Danny was preparing to do was seriously going to hurt the jock in question, and ran like her life depended on it.

"Danny, don't," Sam called desperately as people jostled past her.

"Oh, no, Fenton," Dash said with a dark smile. "Do."

And Danny did.

He took one hit from Dash that only sent his head rocking back for a moment before he was pummeling the heavier boy with a series of swift hits, designed for pain but not true injury. Dash went back onto the ground and took the chance at grabbing another chair, swinging it at Danny like a bat and growling when Danny ducked underneath it and popped back up to snatch the chair away and toss it to the ground.

In a heartbeat Danny was closing in on Dash, and the other boy had the sense to look a little frightened as Danny narrowed green eyes at him and grabbed him by the letterman jacket he lived for, yanking him close enough to feel the cold that radiated from him.

"Don't ever," and he bit the words off, "touch her again." He tossed the other boy on the ground easily, too easily for someone his size, and Dash scrambled to his feet, making a snatch at the other boy as he moved in again.

All he got was shirt, but he tugged anyone hoping to knock Danny off balance. All he ended up doing was feel he was playing tug of war with a tree, and more of an idiot when he was holding nothing more than a scrap of red and white cotton in his hands. He glanced back up just in time to see a fist coming straight at him and went flying back with the distinct impression of green fire as he landed.

He lay there for a moment, dazed and blinking before he scrambled to his feet frantically trying to figure out how this easy beating turned into such a huge mistake. Danny was advancing on him again and Dash moved backwards, regardless of anyone who could see him as he saw that underneath the tattered remains of his tee-shirt, Danny Fenton wasn't a skinny little creep.

Skinny, yeah, but it was lean muscle and nothing but. And scars. Dash's eyes went wide at the scars that covered the boy's stomach and stretched around to where he couldn't see them. "Christ, Fenton. You really are a freak," he breathed and Danny stopped still for a moment, looking at him confused and then focusing in on the piece of his tee-shirt in Dash's hand.

He glanced down and realized that Dash was commenting on his collection of battle scars, and he grinned ferally. "Yep, a freak," he said as he launched himself at Dash, this time being the one to drag them to the ground and easily catching the larger boy with a knee in the gut.

"Leave them alone," he growled as he hit Dash in the jaw. "Leave me alone," he said even lower as he grabbed Dash up by his jacket again and lifted him up easily then smashed his forehead against Dash's face. "I hate fighting. I hate having to fight," and he threw the other boy to the ground and raised a glowing hand.

Dash had the sense to cower as Danny leveled the green flames with him, and then it all came to a screeching halt as a harsh voice rang through the half empty cafeteria. "STOP THAT IMMEDIATELY!"

Danny blinked and stepped back a pace, then blinked again and looked at his hands while Dash continued to cower before him, his face a mess of blood and his nose smashed against his face. The glow around his hands flickered and blinked out and his eyes shifted from radiant green to bright blue with a blink of his eyes, and Dash scuttled further back from Danny as he stood there looking around at the damage they'd caused.

A hand clamped down on Danny's shoulder and he looked behind him to find an enraged Mr. Lancer holding on to him, Sam and Tucker not far behind and looking fairly concerned themselves. "Go to the nurse's office," Mr. Lancer said to Dash before turning to Danny. "And you. Come with me. Now."

Danny followed him to his office silently, still a little unsure of what exactly happened, and how much he'd revealed. He hadn't even realized that he was using his ghost powers all that much until Mr. Lancer had showed up and stopped him before… Before he blasted Dash into the Ghost Zone, he admitted to himself.

He'd stopped holding back the second the jock had touched Sam.

He was still silent as he followed Lancer into his office, eyes darting around before letting Sam and Tucker shadow him in and close the door behind them. Lancer moved behind his desk and sat, staring up at Danny and looking like he'd very much like to expel him.

"I'll give you one chance, Mr. Fenton, to explain to me why you were beating our star athlete senseless."

"He started it," was all Danny said.

"And you felt the need to wreck the cafeteria because he started it?" Mr. Lancer asked as Danny's temper started to rise.

He blinked and actually felt the shift inside him and knew his eyes were glowing green again, knew that the anger was far too close to the surface. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and counted to ten. Then again. "He took the first swing. And the second and third, too, I think," Danny said as calmly as he was able. "I was only defending myself."

Lancer snorted. "According to your fellow students, your defending yourself was extremely violent."

"And Dash trying to knock me out with a chair isn't?" Danny asked, eyes flying open, still brilliantly green, and his voice at that same deadly level it had been before he took Dash down.

"No one said anything about that," Lancer said, sitting up straighter. "What happened then, if I haven't got all the pieces already Mr. Fenton?"

"He touched Sam," Danny breathed.

Lancer raised an eyebrow. "And that makes it alright?"

"He tried to hurt her," Danny yelled suddenly, eyes flaring and hands beginning to ignite in the ghostly green glow again. "He tried to hurt Sam, and I will NEVER let anyone hurt the people I love again."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Danny?" Lancer asked with a pointed stare at his hands, and Danny held them up to watch the ectoenergy dance around them like fire. He laughed, unaware that Lancer was only wondering if Danny had smuggled one of the weapons into the school.

"Well," Danny said with a touch of ironic humor in his voice as the glow danced higher. "I already told my family, and I told the ghost hunter. Maybe I should just tell the whole damned world," and he tossed a glance back at Sam and Tucker to see them gaping as he shifted from Fenton to Phantom without a word, only a smirking laugh.

With another laugh that Sam realized was distinctly hysterical Danny shot up through the roof, leaving her and Tucker alone with a more than shocked Mr. Lancer. She saw him swooping through the air in front of the window, flying farther away and shouting, "I'm Danny Phantom!" as loudly as he could.

"Well, at least he's not telling the world he's Danny Fenton," she muttered pragmatically.

Tucker was less than pragmatic. "I think he just said he loved you, Sam."

Lancer was left sitting behind his desk and staring at the two teens left in from of him, wondering whether he should be surprised at the way they were taking Danny Fenton's secret identity in stride. Then again, seeing how close the three were, he assumed correctly that they must have already known.

"I can assume, Ms. Manson," he said into the awkward silence, "that that is the secret you weren't able to share with me?"

---

"I'm telling you, Jazz, he completely snapped. First he was playing around with Dash, and that was alright. He was trying to keep from fighting, but Dash—" Sam stopped suddenly, not willing to go any further, especially since Tucker was still unfairly stuck on the whole Danny loves Sam deal.

"Dash grabbed Sam, Jazz, and threatened to rough her up, and Danny went nuts and really beat the crap out of him," Tucker said as he realized Sam wasn't going to.

"He threatened both of us," she muttered as she sunk lower into the seat of Jazz's car. They were driving around Amity Part looking for him, but so far there hadn't been anything. The sun had set almost an hour ago and Sam was beginning to give up hope of finding him unless he wanted to be found.

Tucker shrugged. "But you're the one he's in love with."

"What?" Jazz asked loudly as the car jerked to one side when she glanced in the back at Sam.

"You should have seen it," Tucker crowed. "He was going off on Lancer about how he'd never let anyone hurt the people he loved again, and all the while he'd only been talking about Sam."

"It's about time," Jazz muttered and Sam shot up.

"Are you both nuts?" she asked. "Danny just revealed to yet another person that he's Phantom, and you think this is alright?"

"Lancer won't tell, Sam. Trust me," Jazz said. "He gives Danny a lot more credit than everyone else does. Both of them, you know."

"I'm just worried," she muttered.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" she asked with a glance at Sam in the rearview mirror.

"I wouldn't know," Sam said disdainfully. "I've never been on love before."

"Does thinking about him make you smile?" Jazz asked, and Sam glared at her through the rearview mirror. "I can see that's a yes. Does he make you laugh? Do you think about him at odd moments? When things happen do you think about telling him later?"

"I don't have to answer your questions," Sam said.

"You already have," Jazz said smugly. "I already know you worry about him and that you're scared for him. Congratulations, Sam. You are in love."

"Like you'd know," came the grumbled response.

Jazz shot her a smile. "You'd be surprised."

"I don't have to take this. Drop me off, I'm going to look for him on foot," Sam demanded and slid out as the car rolled to a stop seven blocks away from the park. "Call me if you find him, alright?"

"Sure thing," Tucker said as Jazz pulled away from the curb leaving Sam alone in the glare of a street light. She turned and started walking toward the park, hands in her pockets and glad she'd worn jeans instead of her skirt.

Lord knows, a girl walking alone at night in a skirt and tiny shirt would be asking for trouble. And this time she didn't have Danny to protect her. Not that she needed protecting, she reminded herself. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. But it was nice to be able to depend on Danny, to know he'd always be there.

When she finally reached the park forty minutes later her phone was still silent, and Sam sighed before stopping and just standing in the grass, staring up at the sky, wondering if any of the bright lights might be Danny, if anything that happened to flicker was doing so because he was flying in front of it. Wondered if he was even up there at all or if he'd left, gone somewhere else and never planned on coming back.

She was still staring up when arms slid around her waist and a voice whispered into her ear, "Don't turn around," and she almost screamed before she realized that it was Danny, and relaxed back into him with relief.

"Danny," she said, and then shrieked as he lifted her unexpectedly off the ground, flying straight up fast enough that her eyes watered until they were floating motionless hundreds of feet in the air, dancing among the stars. "Danny," she said again, and his arms tightened around her waist.

"I won't let you fall," he said softly into her hair as she leaned back, leveling them with the ground so that she was lying atop him, staring up into the night sky that he'd made them part of.

"I know you won't," she whispered. "I trust you."

"You shouldn't," he said after a bit as he shifted and sent them drifting back down to the ground, only letting go of her when their feet were settled and there was solid earth beneath them. "I screwed up today, didn't I?" he asked, green eyes flashing back to blue, white hair darkening into onyx.

"It could be worse," she answered truthfully.

He laughed and turned around. "I don't see how. Lancer knows, Dash probably suspects."

"Dash thinks you knocked him into hallucinations, thanks to Jazz. Lancer isn't going to tell anyone."

He looked back over his shoulder at her and she smiled at him. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Sam," he said.

"You'd probably have failed most of freshman year and you wouldn't be Danny Phantom," she answered as he turned back to her. "I kind of like you the way you are, though."

"Because I'm Phantom," he said evenly.

"No," she answered, shaking her head and gesturing around. "Because you're Danny to me. Always you're Danny. I rather like being in the park with Danny. Not Fenton, not Phantom, just Danny."

"You're nuts," he said.

"No, I'm in love."

His eyes jerked up to hers and his mouth curved up. "Really?" he asked deceptively casual as he moved closer to her, reached out and snagged her, dragging her to him and staring down into her lavender eyes. "It must be catching, because I am too. But you already knew that, didn't you?" he asked as he held her.

"Tucker might have told me once or twice," she said, letting her arms come around him and laying her hands along the smooth planes of his back.

"More like a couple thousand, huh?" he asked.

"More, Danny. Much, much more," she said before he cut her off with a kiss, sliding his mouth over hers in a gentle and insistent motion before she leaned into it and opened herself to him with a sigh.

"You know," he said as he rested his head against hers. "I'm not exactly sane anymore, right?"

"And since when have you ever been?" she asked. "Let's get you home. Your parents are worried. Jazz and Tucker are worried."

Danny sighed. "And I have to explain being expelled."

"We'll see," was all Sam said as they began walking.

"How bad did I trash the place?" Danny asked as they made their way to the gates of the park. And when he got no answer he turned to find Sam ten paces behind him, frozen still. He glanced around and saw that nothing was moving, not even the droplets of water from the fountain, and he sighed. "All right, I know you're there, so just come out."

Danny turned around at the blue glow behind him and was greeted by the amused chuckling of Clockwork. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Clockwork pointed to the medallion that rested at Danny's neck and Danny's hand reached up and grabbed automatically. "Where'd this come from?" he asked, surprised.

"It belongs to you," Clockwork said as his form shifted from middle aged ghost to infant. "And I am here because you need it."

"Right," was all Danny said.

"Your other self is safely ensconced in my realm, you have no need to fear his release," Clockwork said as he floated towards Sam, and then around her. "But you have need for release." He turned to Danny and shifted to ancient. "You are, as you said, not exactly sane."

"And I need the Master of Time to tell me this?" Danny asked, skeptical.

"No," Clockwork said as he shifted back to middle aged. "But you need someone who knows your secrets and can be trusted. Did you know that ghost powers can affect the living mind?"

"I had begun to suspect this," Danny admitted wryly. "I was going to ask my parents to find me a psychiatrist."

Clockwork laughed as he shifted again, once more to his infant state. "That, Danny, would be a poor move. The future that follows that path is… Admittedly short."

"I die?" Danny asked.

"That I cannot say," and back to ancient as Clockwork pondered Sam again. "You are exactly where you need to be. I am here to help you. You are, after all, my responsibility."

"Help me?" Danny said darkly. "Why couldn't you have helped me before all this?"

Clockwork shifted back to middle aged and floated back to Danny with a sighed frown. "You need to depend on people other than yourself, Danny Phantom. It's the only way for you to survive." He arced his staff up to the sky, gesturing at the stars. "For every star you see, there are thousands, millions that you can't."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that this was the only route you could take and tell the people who needed to know what you hide," Clockwork said and shifted to infant.

"Right, because Mr. Lancer needed to know," and Danny tossed his hands in the air in defeat. "I'm a failure, I get it. I'll be an experiment before Lancer gets to the papers."

"You will have the support you need, Danny. Don't be so negative." Danny didn't say anything and Clockwork touched the medallion, lifting it up in front of Danny's unwilling gaze. "When you need to talk, use it." He dropped it and it landed against Danny's chest with a thump.

Danny looked at him, bemused, and blinked as Clockwork became the ancient ghost again. "You're offering to be my shrink?"

"I am insisting on it, Danny." With a smile and a wink Clockwork pressed the button at the top of his staff, saying, "I'll be in touch. Time in!"

And he disappeared, leaving a very confused Sam to walk into Danny and nearly knock them both to the ground. "Weren't you next to me?" she asked as she rubbed her forehead.

"Actually, I was ahead of you," he replied as he looked up at the sky.

"Strange," she muttered. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm missing something?"

"Clockwork was here," he admitted as they began walking again, and he lifted the time medallion from around his neck and showed it to her before dropping it safely into his pocket.

"You get to keep one?" she asked. Then looked at him, afraid. "He got free didn't he?"

Danny shook his head. "Actually, Clockwork wants me to… Let's just say Jazz is going to be replaced."

"Oh," she said. "Shrinkage. Clockwork, for you?"

"Yep. How bad is it really?" he asked as they stopped in front of Fenton Works. "I don't want to walk into something I'm not prepared for."

"It's fine," she said as she laced her fingers through his and opened the door in front of them. She led him inside and he was surprised to find, not only his parents, Jazz and Tucker, but Mr. Lancer, too.

"Umm, hi?" Danny said with a wince as he stopped in his tracks. There was silence all around as Sam dragged him in to sit, and Danny sighed. "I'm sorry about the cafeteria. And the fight. And, um, flying out of your office. And yelling at you. And cursing."

Mr. Lancer smirked. "I notice you left Mr. Baxter's nose out of it."

"So it is broke?" Danny asked with a grin.

"Danny," his mother began warningly, and stopped at a glare from Jazz.

"It's late," Mr. Lancer said and stood. "I'll leave you to sort things out. Danny, I'll see you tomorrow in school."

"I'm not getting expelled?" Danny asked in surprise.

"You're not getting expelled," Lancer confirmed. "There are enough witnesses that we can say without a doubt that you were provoked and bullied into defending yourself and those who weren't able to." Sam cleared her throat and glared, but Lancer shrugged. "It was the only way I could drop the punishment to detentions only."

Danny groaned. "Let me guess, every day until I graduate?"

"No, just every day until school's out for the summer," Lancer said with a smile as Jack walked him to the door. "I expect they'll be short detentions, as well, since I'll be supervising."

"Thanks, Mr. Lancer," Danny said sincerely, and got a nod in return before the door was shut and Danny was left alone with his family and friends. He felt Sam's hand warm in his and squeezed a little, smiling as she scooted closer.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what happened exactly, Danny," his mom began and held p a hand as Danny opened his mouth. "We're not going to ask. We've already heard enough from Tucker and Mr. Lancer. I will ask, though, what can we do to keep this from happening again?"

Danny leaned back into the couch and slid his hand into his pocket, fingering the medallion and smiling a little. "Actually, Mom, I don't think we'll have to worry about it anymore," he said as he pulled it out.

---

"Fifteen minute detentions. Wow," Sam said as Danny pushed through the doors of Casper High on the last day of school. "He must really like you."

Danny shrugged. "Well, at least he knows that I'm not a trouble maker for the hell of it." He fingered the medallion that rested in his pocket, wondering if he should tell Sam that his detentions were plenty long, it just didn't matter since he wasn't serving them with Lancer.

Of course, some things were better kept between himself and Clockwork. The fact that his fifteen minute detentions for the last month were all several hours long sessions with Clockwork, sorting through the mess in his head and trying to get a handle on himself… Yeah. That was better kept between them.

"You're acting more like yourself again," she said as he slid an arm around her shoulders and they strolled down the front steps. "Even my parents have noticed."

Danny laughed. "And since they never see me, I can't imagine how they would be able to tell."

Sam smiled up at him. "Okay, so maybe the fact that I'm never home anymore has something to do with that. I like you better when you're you."

He snickered. "You know, I could always go back to being oblivious."

"Don't you dare, Danny Fenton," she said, stopping flat out and turning to glare up at him.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile and a kiss. "I'm not planning on giving this up anytime soon."

"Guys, I'm right here," Tucker complained as he walked up behind them. "Get a room and quit torturing us."

Danny laughed and Sam rolled her eyes. "You'd think that after all the hard work you put in to getting us together, you'd be a little more tolerant. I mean look how long we put up with Valerie," Sam said as she began walking again, making the boys run to catch up. "Besides, it's not like you and Valerie aren't going to be like this the second we get to the Nasty Burger."

"Valerie and I are never like that," Tucker muttered. "We never ignored things for three years."

"What was that, Tucker? I don't' think I heard you," Sam called back icily as Tucker pointedly ignored her.

When they came even with Sam Danny grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, laughing as she shrieked and demanded to be put down. "I swear, Danny, I'm going to shove my boot up your—"

"Nope, not happening, Sam," he said as he dropped her down and darted behind Tucker. "No maiming me, if you maim me I can't have any fun."

Tucker snorted and stepped to the side, letting Sam hit Danny with a tackle. "I don't want to hear about your guys' fun, alright?"

"Shut up, Tucker," they chorused.

"Blushy moment number billion and one," he shot back as he tapped his PDA with the wand. "You two are an endless source of amusement."

"I'm taking your PDA from you as soon as Sam stops trying to kill me," Danny yelled as Tucker walked on without them. "Ack!"

Sam hooked an arm around his neck and jumped on his back. "I have you. I'm going to torture you. You don't get to toss me over your shoulder, got it?"

"Right," he said as he tugged her over his shoulder again, this time with her legs kicking behind him. "Got it, no tossing you over it."

"Danny," she said as he sat her back down on the ground. "You are so juvenile."

"But you love me," he grinned as he ran a hand through his hair and then planted a kiss on her cheek before heading after Tucker.

"Yeah," she said as she tucked herself back under his arm. "I do love you."

"I love you, too, Sam," he said with a smile as he pulled her closer. "Don't forget that."

"Guys!" Tucker wailed from in front of them. "I'm still right here!"

---

Edited: 09/29/06.