Sarcasmastic here with another (hopefully) satisfying oneshot. This has been a huge plot bunny, all NOMNOMNOM-agonning on my mind, so I finally wrote it. Danny Phantom isn't my creation, but if he was, he'd be paired with Dash (just not like this, hopefully!)

Please enjoy, and remember to review for me if you liked it, and review if you hated it, too. 3

Not a single damn day went by that he didn't wish me dead. Not one. Not a single day that went by that I didn't think of him; wasn't terrified of him. He'd be around every corner; every sound I heard was him, getting closer and closer and closer to me. I couldn't get away. He wouldn't let me. But this? This is fucking ridiculous. This is borderline insane. What the fuck did I do to deserve something so awful and masochistic? He can't prove he did it…. I can't prove he did…. But damnit, Dash…

He couldn't see, nor speak, nor move. He'd been here for a minute or an hour, he wasn't entirely sure. He'd been standing, looking at nothing, locker open, waiting for the halls to clear when BAM, something hit him from behind. Then, voices around him, familiar but unrecognizable, then, black. He'd seen nothing. When he woke up again, he was in a locker. He could see nothing except the blurry images of people passing by through the tiny slits in the locker door. He could say nothing, for there had, apparently, been steps taken to prevent that. He looked up, then stopped immediately when blinding pain took over his body and made him writhe and gasp in pain. He twisted in the spot and pulled his arms down, but they didn't move. His vision slowly came back to him after a few seconds of blindness, and he wondered what had happened to his neck to cause this much pain in any one spot on his body.

His vision was abstract, at best. He could feel dried blood on his hands and on the hairs of his neck, neither of which he could move or touch. His hands were suspended above him, rather uncomfortably, bound together with some sort of rope and attached to the coat hook in the locker. He was groggy and felt like he'd been there for days, but he knew that wasn't true. The headache that was altering his mind wanted him to feel like it'd been longer than it had. For a moment or two, a wave of nausea came over him, and he actually felt the need to vomit, but he knew that'd be impossible now, so it didn't overly concern him.

What the shit happened…? He shook his head, but was shocked by brilliant pain and cringed once again, clenching his teeth as best as he could in his position. When he opened his eyes, he saw in front of him a piece of paper taped to the wall of the locker. He squinted and focused his eyes, then read it:

"Good morning, Sunshine—Hope you're comfy. You're probably wondering about this, but you already know everything that you need to know, which isn't a lot: duh. Hang tight, we'll be back for you. (HAHA, get it!?)

Love, Dash XOXO

T-that.. that… that… That sick, sadistic bastard... He was utterly dumbfounded. This is extreme, even for Dash… what does that mean happened? Did the team pressure him into it, or is he just getting worse? Was it even Dash that did it? It's possible that this is someone entirely different, getting revenge for something I did to them. Shit, I might as well get out of here and figure it out.

Danny sighed and concentrated for a second, bringing his focus and strength in to change form in that locker. When opened his eyes, he was still in there. What the…? Why can't I go ghost? What's going on…? He made the mistake of looking up too quickly again, then writhed in pain, simultaneously thrashing around against his bonds in frustration. There has to be a way out of here. If he could have kicked his legs, he would have; if he could have screamed, he would have. But, he couldn't; instead, he sat there in pained silence for what seemed like a hundred lives. He was unbearably still, with no energy to relieve his pain, every ounce of his being contributing to his agony from being strung up by his wrists. He waited, growing hungry, thirsty, tired and sore, but at the same time, would've gladly traded food for space in which to move. His muscles ached from being in the same position for so long. Isn't anyone looking for me?

Then, as if an answer to whatever kind of craze-ridden prayer he'd just made, he heard close shuffling. He would've gladly accepted even Dash Baxter as the person who walked by, but, much to his disappointment, he saw the figures of two familiar teens. One wore a barrette, the other had black hair.

"I wonder where he is…."

"I don't know, but I'm getting worried."

Tucker? Sam? Is that you guys? I'm in here…I'm here… He strained to listen to their words, but it was useless. The sound in the hallways, added to the metal muffler, made Danny practically clueless to anything they might've been saying.

"…been gone all day..."

"…not like him…"

Sam! Tucker! Please…. Please. Help me. Don't let me die in here…

Then, with the ringing of a bell, all of the noise was gone. No Sam or Tucker, no more kids in the hallway. It was silent again: that silence in itself was worse than anything else he was experiencing. He held in tears as much as he could, but knew that if he started crying, he'd lose it completely. He sat there for fifteen minutes or two hours, he wasn't sure, but he decided it'd gone by when he heard something in the silence: footsteps. They were close, getting closer. So close, in fact, that he saw the person's shadow on the locker door slits, or, what was actually a blur of lighter color than that around it. He also saw the person stop and start to put their combination into this locker.

Danny closed his eyes and prayed. Please, God, if you're out there and not too busy… please help me.

The person outside opened the locker door very slightly, looked around, then opened it more so that they could look at Danny. He recognized the shape as a student, but it was just a figure he couldn't make out, his abstract vision coupled with his eyes being adjusted to the dark.

The person reached out a hand to Danny, who instinctively cringed. The person took his face and pulled it forward again, but gently, so that it didn't cause Danny massive pain. They laid a finger across Danny's mouth, be quiet. Danny nodded weakly and braced himself as the person opposite him pulled the painfully sticky substance off of his mouth slowly. It's nothing like the movies; it's so much worse than the movies… Finally, it was off.

Danny choked and coughed and spat and inhaled deeply. He squeezed his eyes shut, and for a moment, it was wonderful. Inhale, exhale. That's all that matters: inhale, exhale. Repeat as necessary.

After catching his breath, more or less, the person said, quietly, "brace yourself." Had Danny been fully conscious, he might've recognized the voice, but all he could make out was it being a male one. He nodded his head, but probably should've only done it if he meant it. The boy reached up his arms and lifted Danny off of the hooks, taking him out of the locker slowly in a bridal-style way of carrying him.

He set Danny down in his lap, untied his wrists, threw the thing in the locker and closed it. By now, Danny was focusing on figuring out who this was, but the other person didn't seem too concerned. Actually, quite the opposite: he was working quickly and quietly, which was confusing the hell out of one Mr. Fenton. He unscrewed a bottle of water and he held Danny up with one hand while he put the water bottle to his lips with the other.

"Drink it, you're really, really dehydrated," he said. Danny winced, but took the water bottle. He tried to hold it himself, but his arms wouldn't even bend. When he tried, he nearly choked from the unexpected pain.

"Can you like, not move? Alright, hold on…" the boy said, pulling a white T shirt out of his bag. He poured some water on it and then passed it over the back of Danny's neck and over his face, to his wrists, and to his back. Danny felt the relief wash over him, what little there was to be felt.

The boy left the wet shirt draped over Danny's shoulders, then pulled a strawberry soyjoy bar out of his bag and showed Danny.

"You like these?"

Danny tried to answer, but all that came out was a voice cracking and a hoarse whisper. The kid must've rolled his eyes, because he gave it to Danny anyways. He looked down slowly at it sitting in his lap, and then looked back at the boy he couldn't identify.

They shared a long moment of silence, then, with a sigh, the boy said, "I have to go. Someone will be here soon; it's the end of the day—you've been in there a little more than seven hours. I would've come back sooner, like I said I would, but no teachers would write me a pass. I'm sorry, Danny."

His last words were softly spoken as he put his hand under Danny's chin and lifted it up. He sighed again, backing up and getting on one knee to lift himself up. Danny sat there, dazed and confused at what just happened. Danny watched as the figure of the boy started to walk away, but he couldn't move a muscle.

"Dash…? Thank you..." he said in a weak, cracking voice. He closed his eyes and waited for a response, but got none. After a moment, the footsteps resumed, getting farther and fainter until Danny couldn't hear them anymore at all.

That's the end :] Thanks SO much for reading, please review if you'd like to do me a favor~!