A/N: I have no idea where this came from. I miss writing for DP, but new plots come around infrequently since they stopped showing it. I actually started this in October, then changed the plot around a thousand times, and ended up with this. Well...enjoy.

Don't Say It

He awoke with a start when the doorbell rang and interrupted what was a wonderful, glorious…and completely inappropriate dream. Perhaps it was for the better. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. It had to be early morning. Five o'clock at most, he decided upon observing the darkness surrounding his house. He sighed and subsequently yawned, stretching and rubbing his eyes groggily before finally rising from his comfortable spot on the couch and shuffling to the front door.

He cracked it open just a smidge, peeking outside through squinting eyes. However, no one was there. He came to the conclusion that either a ghost was standing in front of the door (he realized with an amused chuckle that this was a distinct possibility) or someone was playing a prank. Just as he was about to assume the latter, his eyes skimmed the ground just long enough to see a white envelope sitting on the ground. Curious, he picked it up. He frowned when he saw it was addressed to him (he never received snail mail) and his frown deepened when he saw from whom the letter was.

He opened it carefully and his eyes widened as he read. His insides knotted together, then started boiling in anger. He crinkled up the letter and threw it hard back onto the table. He flung open his door, careful not to arouse the rest of the house, went ghost and dashed through the streets of Amity Park, searching for the house of the letter's sender.

"PLASMIUS!" he heard himself shout, enraged. He was surprised at how different his voice sounded when he was angry, but that was beside the point.

The man in question was sitting alone, as always, in the welcoming room of his mansion. He was clothed in an elaborate and expensive bathrobe and was primly sipping his coffee. He did not seem surprised by the boy's entrance.

"It's terribly early to be shouting people's names at the top of your lungs, Daniel," he stated calmly, not looking away from his steaming cup of coffee.

Danny held up the envelope. "It's awfully early to be blackmailing people."

Vlad looked up, amused. "That's not blackmail. It's merely a friendly warning."

Danny's voice lowered significantly. "Why bring them into this? Why bring her into this? She's got nothing to do with whatever's going on between you and me."

He shrugged it off. "It's not just her. It's anyone."

"But she's the one who's always with me."

He smiled. "Precisely."

Suddenly, the man's entire, sickening master plan was clicking into place in Danny's mind.

He snarled, "You rat bast—AAAHHH!"

He cried as he felt something hit him from behind. If he had been paying close enough attention, he would have seen Vlad's eyes dart to a figure behind Danny and glint contentedly. He would have seen one of the Guys in White standing in Mayor Masters' doorway, poised with an alarmingly intimidating weapon aimed at Danny's back.

"Remember Danny—don't let her say it," Vlad said wickedly before Danny narrowed his eyes at him and flew threw the roof.

Oh, how he wished he had stayed in human form.

At his highest speed yet, he reached her house and flew into her window within seconds.

"Sam…wake up, Sam!" he said, shaking her out of her sleep and trying not to sound too nervous.

She turned to him, disoriented, but asked worriedly, "What? What is it, Danny? It's five o'clock in the morning."

"I know," he said, trying not to sound panicked, "But Vlad sent me a letter this morning and now the Guys in White are after me and…it's too hard to explain, Sam, just come with me," he pleaded.

"Alright, alright. Just hold your horses. I'm still in my pajamas," she said, sleepily climbing out of bed.

"We don't have time, Sam. You look fine. Just grab the Fenton bazooka and let's—"

As he suspected, he didn't have time to finish his sentence before Sam's house started shaking and an ear-piercing boom had been heard.

"What was that?" she asked, suddenly completely awake.

"They're after me," he whispered. "After us."

Sam grabbed the weapon and Danny took her by the hand, making them both intangible and flying them out of her room.

"There!" shouted one of the men as he pointed up at the two figures now floating in the air.

Sam held her breath as waves of energy started shooting rapidly at her, and Danny swerved back and forth, dodging every bullet and shooting his own inhibiting blasts in their direction. After a few moments of fumbling, she finally oriented herself with the world around her and shot her own weapon at the men.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a claw followed by a strong chain found its way toward Danny's ankle. It gripped his foot and he cried out, nearly dropping Sam in the process. As quickly as the first one had come, another snatched his opposite foot and dug deep into his skin, grabbing him so hard that he could not escape. He flew closer to the ground and let go of Sam before he got too entangled and lost control. She continued shooting her weapon at the impossible number of ghost hunters, but eyed Danny worriedly. No one shot back at her; they concentrated all of their efforts on the ghost boy.

Before he knew it, Danny was covered in chains and hooks. Several grappled his legs, biting into him and chafing against his skin. His wrists were now caught, prohibiting him from shooting anymore ecto-blasts at his attackers. One particularly painful-looking claw was digging into his stomach and heavy chains had made their way across his neck, forcing him to lie on the ground.

One of the officers made eye contact with Sam at last and she shouted, "Stop it! Stop hurting him, you don't know what you're doing!"

The officer clicked something on his weapon (one of the many now attached to Danny on the other end) and Danny let out a stifled groan.

Still looking at Sam, the officer nodded his head and all of the other men clicked the same thing. Sam watched in terror as a wave of energy traveled down the chains to Danny. As soon as they hit his body, he screamed in pain and convulsed on the ground.

"STOP IT! You've got the wrong ghost! You don't know who he is!"

The same man nodded again and finally addressed her. "I suppose you do know who he is?"

She looked at him cautiously. "He's Danny Phantom."

He shook his head. "No. Who he REALLY is. He's only part ghost. We know that much. We just need to know WHO the human half is."

"I…I can't tell you," she said timidly.

Upon her words, the man nodded again and they all turned up their weapons, sending an even larger wave crashing into Danny's body and shaking him uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he could not help but utter cries of anguish.

"Stop! Stop! I'll tell you!" she wailed quickly.

They all turned off their weapons and looked to her. "And?"

"Danny Phantom is…"

"STOP! Sam, don't. Don't say it," Danny managed to squeal out through gasps for breath.

"Why? Danny, they're going to kill you! I have to tell them!"

"No," he ordered firmly. "You can't tell them."

"Shut up, ghost," demanded one of the Guys in White.

Then, without warning, another wave of blue energy coursed through the metal clasps attached to Danny, and subsequently flowed through Danny's body. White hot electricity burned its way through his jumpsuit and onto his skin, leaving painfully evident red blotches in its wake. While arching and writhing, trying to escape the pain, the metal sometimes chafed his skin and caused gashes to spit out green ectoplasm from his body. He tried fervently to not let the intensity of his anguish show, but felt inevitable tears seep from the corners of his scrunched shut eyes. He bit back a scream with clenched teeth and bitter groans of agony, but would not let himself loose control. He knew what was to happen now. There was no longer any point in attempting escape. It had to happen.

"DANNY!" Sam yelped through her own tears. "STOP! I'll tell you, just stop hurting him!"

The henchman turned to her, a snide smirk playing on his lips. Slowly, he flipped a switch on his weapon and the current discontinued its flow. Danny's arched form fell flat to the ground immediately and he was left panting for rugged breaths in vain. Sam rushed over to him and stroked his matted-down hair in an attempt to sooth him.

"Tell us, Sam Manson," the man said eagerly, "what is your explanation?"

She eyed him blearily, uncertain of his motives. But it didn't matter. If Danny was to be saved, this was necessary. She opened her mouth, but was cut of by a harsh whisper which nearly broke her heart.

"Sam, it's a trap. Stop," Danny managed, wincing with every intake of air.

She looked at him. "Danny I-I don't care. I can't let them kill you."

"And I can't let them kill you," he muttered.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Stop fraternizing with the victim and tell us!" the official shouted to Sam, his finger hanging ominously over the infamous switch.

Danny smiled, full of regret and love, and merely answered, "Reach into my pocket. I don't have the time or the energy to explain, but find the letter that goes with that envelope. It's in my house. It will explain everything.

"But, Sam," he whispered lightly now, "for now, you just have to trust me. Don't tell them who I really am."

"Then show them!" she tried to convince him through sobs. "You're going to die if we do nothing!"

"Exactly," he said cryptically. "That's the way it has to be…or worse could—ARGH!"

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the energy waves returned in larger, more violent waves than before. Sam got zapped on the arm, but quickly managed to back away to avoid further electrocution. She clenched her teeth and took a sharp breath before looking at the prominent redness now swelling up her arm.

Helplessly, she watched as Danny's fight became a more and more uneven battle. He had lost all of his energy. One last look into her eyes and he seemed to communicate to her in an impossibly telepathic and controlling matter.

Trust me.

She wanted so badly to give these men what they wanted. To tell them the truth. To save Danny from this pain. But she couldn't. He wanted her to trust him, and, even as he was wasting away, she did. She cursed herself for her weakness. For trusting him without question…he would die because of her.

Indeed, his bright green stare had captivated her. She felt glued to the spot as she watched him stop his quest for breath and as his enamoring stare became dull and lifeless. Then, and only then, did he give up his fight to stay in his ghost form. She watched the white rings travel up and down his form, leaving her eyes to rest on his glazed over, grayish blue death gaze.

She made not a sound, but continued to cry. She watched as the Guys in White and other various government officials who had mercilessly tortured her friend carelessly picked up their weapons and his body and drove away. She was left in the park, stock-still and terrified, wondering when she would awaken from this nightmare.

She never would.

By the time the world started turning again, Sam could think of nothing else but making her way to the Fentons' house, where she would find this mysterious and cursed letter that had caused her Danny to feel the need to perish.

However, upon entering his home, she saw that she was not the first to find this letter.

Tucker and Jazz sat in the living room, staring at a crinkled piece of paper lying on the coffee table. When they heard her enter, they rushed over to her.

"Sam, we just found this letter addressed to Danny! It sounds real bad. You need to stay here and make sure that the Guys in White do NOT find you," Jazz ordered in a frighteningly tremulous voice.

Unable to speak or make any comprehensible explanation pour from her mouth, Sam merely held up the envelope in her hands. The parchment was stained with flecks of red and green liquid—blood and ectoplasm.

Jazz hesitantly took it from her with trembling hands. "They…they already found you."

By now, Tucker was standing behind Jazz, who also now found herself mute. "Danny?"

The mention of his name triggered some sort of horrible switch, not unlike the cruel one that had killed her best friend, and sent Sam spiraling to the floor in a flurry of anger, hurt, and confusion. She cried out and turned to Tucker wildly, her eyes large and full of emotion.

"Give me the letter," she commanded in a voice that denied refusal.

Tucker handed it to her and, as she read, her eyes softened and flickered with emotions sporadically.

Daniel,

I suppose that, by now, you figure that we have settled our differences and put our antagonistic past behind us, so to speak. But, let me just say that this assumption is far from the truth. You see, as you naively believed that I was conceding to your superior abilities by not causing you constant terror, I was quite cleverly working on my latest, most elaborate, and most foolproof scheme yet.

I'm sure that you're just dying to hear it…and if not, you soon will be.

As official mayor of Amity Park, I've been able to pull a few extra strings here and there dealing with the government. The stupidly named "Guys in White" and I have become quite close chums (at least by appearance) and I have given them a few pointers about the infamous ghost boy Danny Phantom. Despite their incapability and ignorance, I must say that disdain for this ghost is shared by both parties in this beautiful friendship.

Our "theory" is as follows:

The day that Jack Fenton, the bumbling idiot that he is, opened his portal to the ghost zone, Phantom saw an opportunity to escape. He kidnapped poor Daniel Fenton, the Fentons' son, and stowed him away to die in the ghost zone. Phantom then took on Daniel's persona, even learning how to change form to become more convincing.

However, the Fentons and Daniel's friends soon found out about the ghost's elaborate rouse (they could tell because he would leave to go terrorize the town at the exact same time that Daniel became missing). They threatened to expose the ghost, but he put them under his spell and they obediently did as they were told in not alerting authorities of his dastardly deed. This is why they are seen together so frequently when rampaging ghosts come about. He telepathically tells them to follow him and help him to cause chaos.

So, here I am warning you, Daniel. This is the government's impression of your work. As you read this, they are on their way to find you and the girl over whom you supposedly have the most "power," Samantha Manson. They will do anything to get her to say who your supposed "human half" really is. If she claims that you, Danny Phantom, are Danny Fenton in reality, they will immediately believe that she is completely under your influence and charge her with conspiracy. If she cracks, they will try Tucker and your family. They could all be charged with conspiracy in the kidnapping, and every single one of you will be taken to a holding facility, in which they will perform unspeakably painful experiments on all of you, save your mother. I'll have her out of there in no time if this scenario occurs.

Oh, but I know what you're thinking now. "I'll just reveal my identity to them myself. Then, they will know that I really am Danny Fenton. And, in the event of the slightest doubt, at least my friends and family will not suffer." First of all, may I just say how sickeningly noble you are for thinking that. And secondly, may I point out that this is not an option. They "know" that you can "take Daniel's human form" and, in the event that you do so, you will only be strengthening my theory. Any indication that Danny Phantom is Danny Fenton will prove that Phantom is holding Fenton prisoner in the ghost zone, while stealing his identity in this world. Lovely plot, no?

Now, if the worst scenario occurs, you will end up dead. The government will not take my word that you can continue your ploy through death, so, if an autopsy shows that you are, indeed, Danny Fenton with speckles of ghost DNA here and there, you will be acquitted along with your friends and family. The only problem? You have to be dead to have an autopsy performed on you.

I tell you, the government's "innocent until proven guilty" mandate applies not to ghosts.

So…it's your decision. Go to the asylum together to be tortured and die, or take the noble route for my pleasure and die. Either way, my plan will prove itself successful.

Oh, and if you think that you can stop me by showing this letter to the government, don't even bother. They think you an expert at impersonations, remember?

I do so wish that you had sided with me earlier. Oh well.

Your mayor,

Vlad Masters

Upon finishing, Sam opened her mouth several times to attempt to find a loophole, but, in her weakened state of mind and through Vlad's powerful and convincing sense of rhetoric, she currently found none.

Both Jazz and Tucker were now crying as well, having just discovered the loss of Danny.

"I got here about thirty seconds before you did, Sam," Tucker said through muffled sobs. "And Jazz called me about a minute before that, right after finding the letter. I don't think we could have done anything."

Sam furiously crumpled up the piece of paper. "The whole lot of them are so biased against ghosts, I don't think any of us could have done anything anyway."

Suddenly, the horrible feeling of guilt crashed through her, just when she thought that her emotional overload was already going to cause her to explode. This meant that Danny died to save them. To save her. He would not let her tell because he wanted to spare her the pain.

And, for once, she agreed with Vlad. How sickeningly noble of him.

How dare he think that his death would be more comfortable to her than the other scenario! She would much rather be tortured right along side him than watch as he took the entire beating.

Just then, Jack Fenton came running downstairs, hyperventilating and shouting loudly.

"Have you kids seen Maddie? She was in bed when we went to sleep last night and this morning, when I woke up, she was gone! How could she have just disappeared like that? And how—why are you all crying?"

Sam looked at Jack, her eyes wide in realization and amazement.

Vlad had won.

Not only had he killed his most hated opponent without having to do the dirty work himself, he had secured for himself the woman after whom he had pined all these years. He had made right the wrong which caused his life to turn on him.

And, having the powers of a ghost, he could go anywhere. He could hide anywhere. And it wouldn't matter who knew the truth. He wouldn't be there to face it.

As she was having this revelation, Sam watched with fascination as the letter Vlad had written flew out of her hands and formed into an odd-looking and ghostly shape. It turned green and it arranged itself into a crumpled circle with a fiery string springing from the top. On it, a small window appeared which began counting down backwards from ten.

It looked like Vlad had taken one last precaution with this letter, just to be sure that it was never found and that the Danny, Jazz, Jack, Sam and Tucker would not be able to foil his plans ever again.

Sam found herself laughing hysterically as the countdown got closer and closer to the explosion. There was nothing left to do. She could no longer be angry with Danny for dying to save her, as he really hadn't. She couldn't be happy, as she was about to die. She couldn't be sad that Danny was dead, as she would soon be with him.

Oh, how Vlad had won.

As you can probably tell, I was feeling particularly evil today...

Please review and let me know if this needs changed in any way. I know there must be a loophole somewhere, so if you picked up on it, let me know. Grammatical errors? Spelling? Plot? Characterization? Whatever the problem is, let me know. And, even if you found no problem, review and let me know whether you hated or enjoyed this. Thank you!

--DPSG1