DISCLAIMER: Danny Phantom is property of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.

~.~.~

Better Left Unsaid

~.~.~

"...Or, I could just destroy you now and prevent this future. Didn't think of that, did you?"

One quick swipe is all it takes; and from the face the boy had made, it had hurt a good deal when the clawed gauntlets had sliced through his side. But the deed is done. The fourteen-year-old from his memories is gone, back to his own time to face a monster that he may yet become.

He still isn't fully convinced that it wouldn't have been more of a mercy to kill the boy outright. In the end, it hardly matters; he's already bent to the Time Master's wishes.

"Good luck, Danny."

Vlad looks down at his hands, disgust creeping over his features. "If I ever have to wear these things again, it will have been too soon," he mutters as he begins pulling and tugging at the fastenings of the left gauntlet. He'd have never built the wretched things if he'd but known the havoc and misery that would come of them; because in truth, the whole Dan debacle had been as much his doing as it had Daniel's.

If he'd never built these blasted claws... If Danny's family hadn't been taken from him... If Jack hadn't named him Daniel's guardian... If he had helped the boy better... If he hadn't agreed to Daniel's plan... If he hadn't allowed a hurt and confused Phantom to catch him by surprise... If he'd have managed to hold on to Plasmius... If he'd prevented the two from merging, birthing the greatest horror known in modern times...

If he had gotten to Daniel sooner...

Biscuits, he should have known better. They both should have. Little use for such regrets now, however.

Vlad shakes his head, willing the thoughts to leave him. He won't let himself dwell on the past, not again. He's finally learned—the hard way—that it never leads to anything good.

Coughing from a collapsed corner of the room interrupts his train of thought. "Vlad, I don't care anymore if he's still out there or not! Get me out of here!"

One hand appears from the rubble, then another; it's not long before the head and shoulders follow. Vlad smiles ruefully as he crosses the room to the far corner, knowing his once-charge (though honestly, the term could still be applied) was incapable of seeing it.

"I'm sorry, Daniel," he says, crouching in front of the young man, "I hadn't thought about how uncomfortable it must be down here."

Danny's head turns towards him as he speaks, more out of old habits than anything. "Whatever," he replies in a grouchy voice, and Vlad can tell from the pitch alone that sightless eyes are being rolled at him beneath the cloth covering them. "Just get me to my regular seat before I suffocate from all this dust."

"Of course." Vlad's hand rests lightly on Danny's right forearm for a moment.

Daniel's response to the action is his typical short, testy grunt: one part acceptance, one part irritation. He pulls away from the touch before following the tattered sleeve of Vlad's old suit up to the man's shoulders. From there, the process is a simple, practiced one. The left arm joins the right around the back of Vlad's neck, the older man's arms wrap around his back, and Danny uses his legs—what's left of them—to grip Vlad's waist.

"I hate this," Danny grumbles, his forehead resting on Vlad's left shoulder as the man does the walking for both of them.

"Oh, yes, you hate this," his caretaker says, his voice carefully light, "Never mind the fifty-year-old man you're using as your personal pack-mule."

"If you'd just let me do things my way..." comes the muttered response.

Vlad frowns and his voice hardens a shade or two, "As I recall, that involved you crawling all over the ground, contracting a respiratory infection, and nearly dying from said infection." Daniel sighs loudly, but doesn't bother to otherwise interrupt. "I absolutely refuse to so much as think about allowing you to put yourself through that again."

Daniel makes an odd sound in the back of his throat. Something that manages to convey both his defiant stubbornness and begrudging agreement. Nothing further is said on the matter. It's too old an argument for either of them to bother with anymore.

Vlad sets the younger man down on his favored chair and Danny's hands immediately begin to search the table in front of him. Vlad leaves his charge to his business.

~.~.~.~

Quiet oaths begin to rise up from the young man's work area only a handful of moments after he has been left there, drawing Vlad's attention back from his own tasks. One glance is all it takes for him to pinpoint the reason for Daniel's frustration as blind fingers continue to fumble over the table, still groping for something they can't quite find.

The old man holds his tongue, however. He'd learned long ago that Daniel would be willing to accept his help when he asks for it, and not before. He takes the time to consider his ward, as he has many times over the past decade.

Their combined ghost-halves had done a number on the boy. Danny's eyes had been the first target of the malevolent ghost. Apparently, a small, frightened, human boy wasn't a helpless enough victim. Dan had wanted him blind too. A concentrated ecto-blast had produced a burst of light intense enough to sear Danny's retinas, let alone the scarring from the burns that had been left behind. Newly clawed hands had then grabbed the teenager by his knees. The following throw had been so violent that Daniel's legs had literally been torn in two. Everything just above the knees and down was suddenly gone, ragged skin and torn muscle left in the wake of the brutal action.

Vlad doubts he will ever forget the screaming; but it had been that bloodcurdling cry following the rending of his legs that had finally shocked Vlad out of his stupor enough to act. He hadn't quite made it in time to save Danny from one last injury, and the scars on the young man's left forearm hold a record of that carved in flesh. He'd been fast enough to keep Danny alive, though; and by that point, it was all he could ask for.

He can't even recall what exactly happened in that single, life-altering moment. He's not entirely certain he wants to. Whatever he did, he's sure it was exceedingly foolish, fueled more by desperation and shock than by intellect. What he does remember is the handful of minutes between surviving the newly-created Dan's first attack on humanity and losing consciousness shortly thereafter.

He remembers clutching a portable ghost-shield in one hand and a bleeding boy in the other. He remembers using the scant ectoplasmic powers that Phantom's sloppy work had left him with to cauterize bleeding wounds. He remembers the nauseating scent of burning flesh. He remembers a boy who almost bled out despite his efforts. He remembers crying...

"Vlad." Daniel's voice cuts through unpleasant memories for the second time that day; but perhaps not for the last, considering where his mind has been wandering lately. "Did you move that gun I was working on? I can't find it."

"It's right where you left it. A little more to the left of where you've been searching. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but our visitor stumbled into your chair and pushed it back a few feet before his departure." His answer comes out calm, but he's already debating whether or not he's likely to regret his next words. "Why didn't you want to see him?"

Danny stops mid-reach, gun forgotten as he turns towards Vlad; and yes, that would be Daniel's version of a glare, his features twisting, darkening his overall expression. The cloth wrapped around his head slips down, just enough to expose the edge of the scarring hidden beneath. Vlad doesn't comment, just waits for the other man's answer.

"We're not having this conversation," Danny says after a few moments pass in silence. His tone is final.

Vlad ignores it like he always has. "Daniel..."

The response is immediate. "No!" Danny runs a hand through his hair before saying more. "I just... It's better this way, alright? It's not like he needed to know everything. You told him enough. Though that 'My evil ghost-half' bit was probably the biggest load of bull I've ever heard come out of your mouth, which is saying something. We both know that Phantom was no angel, even before the merge; not that I'd tell anyone to use you as their moral compass, either."

Vlad steeples his fingers and waits for a moment, but his companion refuses to say anything further. "Yes, nicely deflected, my boy. But remember who you're talking to," he says simply, brushing off Daniel's deepening scowl, "Now, how about a real answer, hm?"

"Fine," the blinded man spits back, "It's like you said, 'Some things are better left unsaid.' And unseen." He reaches up and tugs the coverings loose from his eyes.

Vlad has to admit, if only to himself, that he's surprised by the action. Daniel is usually rather self-conscious about the scars Dan gifted him with. Long pants to cover his legs and bandages surrounding his eyes and left arm have become a part of Danny's typical apparel.

Daniel continues speaking before Vlad can recover enough to argue the point. "He came from a time before my entire life went to hell, right?" the blind man demands, "Can you imagine his reaction if he had seen me? He's better off believing I'm dead!"

"Daniel, be reasonable—"

"Look at me, Vlad! Just look!" The younger man's face is twisted with emotion. Anger, disgust, fear, sorrow? Whatever it is, Vlad decides he doesn't care for it on Daniel's face. "I'm blind, my left arm only has partial mobility, and my legs are gone. Everything below the knees is just gone. Do you really think he'd be glad to see what I've become? That he'd be anything less than horrified?

"That's not even taking into account that I'm responsible for the creation of a monster that's murdered more innocent people than can be counted, that's decimated our world, that I am completely powerless to stop." Danny pauses to take a shuddering breath, but he presses on in his rant. "That has now gone back in time to ensure that another Danny loses his parents—his whole family—like I lost mine. He's going to kill them, and I can't do anything about it. I'm going to lose them all over again! All because I was selfish, and I can't— I can't— I've failed them again, Vlad! They're dead because I wasn't strong enough!"

Vlad watches, a bit in shock, as Danny breaks down like he hasn't in over eight years. "Daniel?" he hazards softly, unsure of how his companion will react.

Danny wipes futilely at the tears running down his face before replying, his voice catching as he speaks, "It will be my fault, Vlad. And nothing you say this time will be able to make any of it better."

Vlad has no response for this. Anything he says now will only hurt the man in front of him more, not help. There is nothing he can do. Daniel has to figure out on his own how to either live with guilt's burden or set it down. It's not something others can do for him.

So Vlad just closes his eyes, bows his head, and thinks of a young boy several years in the past who is fighting for his life and what he believes in against a monster of their own making. He thinks of a young man who still has a hope for his future. It's a terribly slim hope he clings to, and Vlad wonders what will become of him.

The Time Master could have told him when he visited earlier, had he been so inclined; but Vlad knows that no matter what the outcome may be, it was better left unsaid and unknown.

~.~.~