Disclaimer: I don't own "Danny Phantom" and all that jazz.

All the young man could hear as he looked through the window of the gymnasium was his own heartbeat; louder and more incessant than a jackhammer was the sound. The taunts of the apparition holding him aloft barely registered.

The safety of the young woman inside the building was all that mattered. He had to get to her…now. A quick jerk of his torso loosened the harpy from his form. With a quick curse, her associate launched an attack of his own. He took on the form of a ninja and exhibited a few typical moves. There's a life at stake and all this spirit can do is show off? Regarding this being with all the significance of a butterfly's fart, the young man captured the would-be attacker in the cylindrical prison.

The female apparition hurried toward the young man, angrier than ever. He dodged the charging spook, but she turned back and lunged at him. Much as he struggled, the boy couldn't escape her grasp. She balled her hand into a fist and rammed it into his back, eliciting from him a loud yell.

In the building, the dominoes continued to fall, providing the only sound other than the girl's speech. The last one whistled through the air as it landed on the button to the lasers.

The lasers had been aimed at the middle of the stage…right where the young woman had been standing.

The boy extended his hands out. It would seem like some kind of self-deluded attempt at heroism…or, perhaps, a show of disbelief that such an occurrence had just taken place.

"Oh, my God!"

No one was sure who made the exclamation, but it had been most appropriate.

The smoke cleared and where the stage was now sat a blackened crater with traces of blood and plasma that most certainly weren't there a few minutes ago.

The ghost let the young man go and tossed him through the wall. With all his strength, he willed himself intangible. It was through a freakish stroke of luck that no one in the gym noticed his entrance, due to the attention paid to the stage.

He found himself in the basement. He shifted himself back to human form and lied, as best as he could, on the burlap sacks that resided within. His face and arms were cut and bleeding. That shot to his back, which caused him pain whenever he tried to move, wasn't doing him much good, either.

"What's that?"

The boy forced himself to turn his head toward the door behind him. As he grunted in pain, the door opened.

"What are you doing down here? You're supposed to be in the gym." It was the janitor. The rasp in his voice came with the ravages of age and the pack-a-week habit he'd been hiding from his wife.

"My…sister…"

"Yeah. She's making a speech, isn't she?" For the first time, the elder man noticed the boy's physical aberrations. "My God, boy. You're hurt."

The young man brushed a palm over his face. There was a smear of blood as he drew his hand back. Apparently, it was still fresh. He jerked his head away from the appendage. He never could stand the sight of blood.

"I'm taking you to the nurse's office, no question about it."

The man hefted the boy to his feet and slung an arm over his neck.

XxXxXxXxX

It was never easy for him to go to the nurse's office. If he wasn't ashamed at having to admit that some bullies roughed him up, then he was embarrassed at having to make up a story that didn't involve ghosts.

The boy looked over himself and felt a brief sensation of relief…then it hit him. He rushed out of the office, almost knocking the elderly woman down.

As fast as his teenage legs would take him, he hurried to the gym. He looked through the window. The students were staring at the stage. Some were huddled together for comfort. Others looked very nauseated. The one constant the boy couldn't get out of his head: they were all crying. Nerds, jocks, snobs, outcasts - all were united in solidarity. The boy briefly thought, 'why can't we all be together like this when something good happens?'

The door burst open. From it emerged a middle-aged man, a pale look on his face. The boy ran up to him.

"Mr. Lancer…"

"Danny, I…I don't know what to say. Jazz. She…" His morose tone became one of suspicion. "Wait. Why aren't you in the gym?"

The bottom seemed to drop out from inside the boy. "Well, I…" He could feel his stomach in one foot and his brain in the other.

"Why weren't you in the gym?" Suspicion infected his voice all the more noticeably.

This was getting more and more serious, to say nothing of dangerous. What could Danny say that wouldn't expose his secret? "I was in the bathroom." It was the first, non-ghost related statement that popped into the thing in his left shoe.

Lancer looked around. "And for that matter, where is Dr. Spectra?"

As if to answer his question, the redhead ran up to him, as chipper as ever. "Mr. Lancer, Danny. What's going on? Why are you…?" She stepped into the gymnasium. "Oh, my dear. What happened here?"

The man scratched his bald head. "I'm still trying to figure it out. Jazz was up there. She was making the speech, then-- I just don't know."

She clamped a hand on Danny's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Well, it's nothing to worry about. I know this is a hard time, especially for you, Danny, but we just need to work through the pain and work it out."

Lancer walked into the building, out of earshot.

The boy stared daggers at the woman next to him. "So, help me, Spectra, you'll pay for this. You…will…pay."

"Somehow, I don't think so. You could always rat me out, but you'd be signing your own death warrant, too, ghost boy." She let him go and walked into the room.

The educator turned toward the psychologist. "By the way, where were you?"

"I just had to check on a few of my files." Spectra ran up to a small collective of students. Lancer looked at Danny and did something the boy could never have expected. He hugged him.

"I'm so, so sorry."

Danny glanced toward the stage. "So am I."

XxXxXxXxX

Danny was escorted to his locker by Mr. Lancer. Both men wore grim expressions as they proceeded down the hallway.

"I've contacted your parents, Danny. They should be here any minute."

True to the educator's word, a pair of adults in hazmat suits stood at the end of the hall. The aged-but-still-stunning woman in light blue ran to Danny. She sobbed lightly as she hugged her child. Her only child. "Oh, Danny." The boy returned the gesture, though quite not as strongly.

The heavy-set gentleman in orange walked up. "We're going to take you home, son." The man's façade of composure slowly but surely fell away. "It'll feel empty, though." He soon joined in the hug. In his life, only two people had seen the man cry: his mother and the woman currently at his side.

Danny wiped the tears from his face. "I just need to get my things."

XxXxXxXxX

Making the short trip to his locker had been a wearying one for Danny. He wasn't sure which location he dreaded more: the school, where his sister had earned consistently high marks or his house, where she was butting into his affairs… Almost as quickly as he set off on this tangent, he caught himself. He valued his privacy, and for good reason, but he had to admit that he'd miss his sister meddling in his life.

Dr. Spectra had finished with a pair of patients; two band geeks who, like the long line of students behind them, were greatly traumatized by what would be commonly known as the 'gymnasium incident'. To the disturbed apathy of the teenagers waiting for her, the woman stepped out of her office. With a welcoming expression, she walked up to Danny's parents.

"Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton. I am so sorry for your loss. This is just…unbelievable."

"Your concern is touching, but who are you?", wondered Mrs. Fenton.

Danny stepped forward. "She's the ki--"

"Concerned child psychologist Penelope Spectra." She extends her hand. "I'm just so sad to have to be here in this…" Her voice drops dramatically. "… fragile time."

Mr. Lancer stood behind her. "Yes. Dr. Spectra has been helping the student body adjust. To be honest, you've got your work cut out for you."

"Like I say, there's nothing that can be solved with a little TLC: trust, listening and counsel."

The boy could barely help rolling his eyes at what the woman was shoveling.

"Oh, where are you going, Danny?" Her tone of fake concern fooled all but the minor.

"To my locker. My parents are taking me home." The terseness in his voice took his parents by surprise.

"Well, until we meet again."

The group passed by Spectra as she walked back into her office. Not a one among them noticed the Cheshire cat grin on the woman's face as the door closed.

XxXxXxXxX

Danny fiddled with the combination lock on his locker. It wasn't like he'd forgotten it. It was almost like his brain had short-circuited, if only for a moment. Something like this could throw anyone off.

He slipped the lock off and opened the door. Out of the compartment tumbled a rolled-up piece of paper. It looked to be about two feet tall. Eerily, it stood up on its end, refusing to fall over.

The boy stared at the foreign object like it was a full-grown person of the same height. He unrolled it and stared at the contents.

There were drawings of the domino display. Sketches of the laser blasters. Doodles of the stage, with detailed height and length measurements. These were blueprints.

"Danny, what are you holding?" The boy froze, his face trapped in an expression of pure shock. Mr. Lancer ran up to him and took the paper from the student.

"These are blueprints of the gym; of the display and everything. Why are they in your locker?"

The boy regained his mobility. He saw the look on Lancer's face. He could see the gears turning behind the teacher's eyes.

"This is not what it looks like." Danny shook his head.

"Danny, there are only so many ways this can look, and none of them are good."

"Mr. Lancer, what's going on?" Mrs. Fenton looked past her son to the blueprints in the man's hand.

"He thinks I had something to do with what happened to Jazz."

Mrs. Fenton narrowed her eyes. "How dare you…"

"I don't know what to believe, Mrs. Fenton, but I'm notifying the authorities. If what happened to Jasmine was in any way intentional, it needs to be investigated."

XxXxXxXxX

The mood in the empty classroom was that of death: silence, unhappiness, melancholy. Standing at the door was a police officer with a stern look on his face. Another officer with a similar disposition stood next to Mr. Lancer. The teacher sat at one end of a long table. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton sat on either side of the table.

The boy sat in a chair at the other end. "I already told you. I didn't set those lasers up, and I don't know how those blueprints got in my locker." Danny looked down. Tears were falling from his eyes.

"You don't know how they got there, but they were there."

Danny shrugged. "Maybe someone planted them in there."

"And pray tell how? It was locked, wasn't it?"

"I don't know!"

"You don't know if it was locked, and watch your tone, Mr. Fenton. You're in enough trouble, as it is."

"I know it was locked, but I don't know how…" It came to him in a crushing blow: Spectra. He opened his mouth slightly, as if to say something, but closed it almost as quickly. If he were to expose her, the chances of her exposing him in retaliation were a certainty. And the psychological siren knew this.

Danny slumped down in his chair. "I don't know." A thick coat of defeat smothered each word.

The officer next to the door took a step forward. "I'm very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, but until we can get a straight answer out of your son, he's going to have to come with us."

"Danny, if you know something, then tell us! Please! We won't think less of you." The mother was on the verge of hysteria. Having both of her children taken from her in one day was too much. She collapsed into the arms of her husband.

XxXxXxXxX

The next couple of weeks felt like a blur to the young man. It was as close to living a nightmare as he'd ever experienced. He vaguely remembered being escorted from Casper High amidst tear-stained protests from his parents. He could barely recall being taken to the police station. His memory struggled when it came to being on trial. But one thing he remembered clear as a bell was the verdict handed down to him.

"Daniel Webster Fenton, this court finds you guilty on the charge of premeditated murder. I sentence you to spend the remainder of your teenage years in a juvenile detention center." The elderly man behind the bench removed his glasses, his shame-on-you expression burning holes through the boy's soul. "And may I just say that you ought to be ashamed of yourself for such an unspeakable and willful act of malice."

The boy broke down in tears as he was taken from the courtroom. The crowd inside and out erupted in uproar. One moment, he had been making his way through high school and the next, he was a common criminal. As he was loaded into the police car, he could only wonder what life would throw at him next.

XxXxXxXxX

Cold. Hostile. Sterile. These words immediately came to mind when Danny entered the center. He looked through the tiny windows of the hallways and saw boys just like him, with one main difference: the boys looked devoid of spirit, as if their life force was drained out of them. Almost like Spectra had been through here… The boy's face scrunched up in hatred. At that moment, he make a promise: when and if he got out of here, she was dead…inasmuch that a ghost could possibly die again.

One of the guards had walked him to his cell. The key turning in the lock sounded harsh and more than a little frightening; a perfect match for this place.

"Make yourself at home…" He looked at the last name on the clipboard in his hand. "…Fenton."

Danny walked in and took a look around. It felt like a prison cell. The beige paint job kept it from completing a cell's look, though.

He sat on the bed and held his legs against his chest. The enormity of the situation weighing on his heart, he could think of nothing else but to cry.

XxXxXxXxX

Over the next few weeks, while the specifics of his term were being worked out, Danny received a number of visitors…

The two teens on the other side of the glass looked like death warmed over and coughed up…

"Another guy just whistled at Sam." The African-American boy jerked a thumb at a passerby. The Goth next to him took the phone and spoke.

"What? They've never seen a girl before?"

Danny smiled a little. "They've probably never seen a pretty one before."

The girl faced the delinquent. "What?"

"Nothing." He hadn't realized that he could've been heard. "What's been going on at school?"

"You know, classes, teachers, students. You're not missing much."

"People are still shaken by the 'gymnasium incident'."

"Sam, Tucker, I want you to promise me something. Stay away from Spectra. She's poison. And get others to stay away from her, too. Compliments, insults, threats - whatever it takes. Keep people away from her. You got that?"

The teens fell against each other's skulls. "Ouch", they simply stated, as if too numb to feel the pain.

Danny exhaled.

XxXxXxXxX

The adults sitting before Danny tried to smile through their tears.

"Mom, Dad…"

The woman put up her hand and picked up the phone with the other. "Danny, your father and I love you, no matter what…"

The boy could feel it in his bones. "But…"

"Well…"

"I would never hurt Jazz. You know that!"

"I know, but the evidence is so overwhelming. If you have anything to tell us, tell us. Please."

The boy hung his head down. "There's nothing to tell."

The woman wiped her tears. "Okay. You're my son, and I know you wouldn't lie to me." Danny winced at the statement.

The man picked up the phone. "We'll do everything we can to help you out, Danny." As the woman walks away, the man leans closer to the glass. "And here's a tip: cigarettes are just as good as money. We don't want you smoking them, though…" A feminine hand grabbed the man's ear, pulling him up.

"Jack, what are you telling our son? 'Cigarettes as good as money'. No more late-night premium cable watching for you!"

"But, Maddie, my shows!" The grown man whined like a child who'd just been grounded.

As Danny looked at his parents, a warm feeling came over him; even in his darkest moments, he could count on his parents to help him…and be themselves so thoroughly.

XxXxXxXxX

The pretty Hispanic girl sat in the chair. "I can't believe that…" Danny pointed to the phone on her left. She looked around and picked it up.

"I can't believe that you'd do something like this. I thought you were kind of a flake, but I never thought you'd do something so malicious, so terrible, so…criminal." A feeling of euphoria came over the girl as her voice trailed off.

Her surprised expression melted into one of…lust. "Call me when you get out." She blew him a kiss and walked away.

Danny shook his head, musing that one of Casper High's inveterate flirts may not have been the best choice for a potential girlfriend.

XxXxXxXxX

The bald man sat down, a perplexed look on his face.

"Danny…"

"Mr. Lancer, please. I can handle being called a bad student. I can handle being called a lot of things, but I'm not a killer."

"I really don't know what to say. In all my years of teaching, I've only had to do this twice, and all that young man did was steal a car."

Danny looked away, tears falling from his face.

"I'm sorry." Lancer hung up the phone and walked away.

XxXxXxXxX

An annoying smug expression decorated the blonde jock's visage. He grabbed the phone from its cradle.

"You know, I never thought this would happen to you. Stuck in juvie. You're gonna miss so much in here, but not as much as I'll miss beatin' on you, Fen-terrible." A hearty laugh escaped his throat. After a short while, it tapered off.

The jock looked around. "Oh, this isn't fun, anymore, and this place is really depressing." He dropped the phone and fast-walked toward the door.

XxXxXxXxX

Danny sat in the lushly-designed office of the center's director. "I have to what?!"

"You'll be examined by a court-appointed psychologist." The middle-aged man before him laced his hands together.

"I really don't think this is right."

A guard standing next to the director leered at Danny. "And plotting to murder your sister was right?"

The boy narrowed his eyes. "That was uncalled for."

"I agree. Now, Danny, we just want you to get through this as best as possible. I just know that the psychologist will help you understand and eliminate your problems."

'I know what my problems are', Danny thought to himself.

XxXxXxXxX

"This psychologist comes highly accredited and recommended. If anyone will be able to help you, it's this individual."

The room, like many at the center, was sterile. No sound could be heard save for that of the air being re-circulated.

Danny sat at a rectangular table in one of two chairs. The other was right across from him facing the door. Danny folded his arms and rested his head on them.

He could hear the door open, but did not move. He heard the clacking behind him. The psychologist must've been wearing high heels. He could feel something pass his lips. It was a stream of blue.

The boy looked up from his makeshift bed and saw a maroon suit jacket. His eyes traveled up further and he shook his head in disbelief. Of all the tricks the universe could play on him at this point in time, none were so ludicrously malicious as this one.

"Hey there, sunshine!" The red-haired woman's voice was packed with honey. "Why so glum?"

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Oh, what fresh hell is this?!"