The Phantom Alphabet
(I Don't Own Danny Phantom)
A/N: So, I figured seeing as I just found this on my iPad, I may as well post it. I know the whole 'alphabet' thing has been done before, but I've decided to put in my own take on the idea which led to this.
(I know, I know, all I'm are writing one-shots and song-fics. I should really start writing chaptered stuff, but...yeah. I have started on the AR/MR semi-crossover, as well as several others, but I don't seem to be going anywhere.)
I'll now shut up, so enjoy and please review. (Any and all mistakes are mine)
Act-
I'm going to act like nothing is wrong, talk like everything is perfect, pretend it's all a dream, and imagine it's not hurting me.
-Unknown
Danny sighed as he dropped to the ground, Fenton Thermos in hand with the latest ghost trapped inside. He had just enough time to get home before his curfew and study for tomorrow's test. He sighed again. Being Danny Phantom was almost easier than being Danny Fenton, despite the constant ghost attacks and injuries. At least when he was a ghost he could be himself and drop the act that was his life now. He could smash his opponents into the ground, fight back instead of putting up with it and being shoved into lockers. If ghost equipment picked him up he didn't need to make excuses and pretend he didn't know why.
Sometimes he wished he could just stay as Danny Phantom and forget about his problems at school and how his parents wanting to rip his ghost half apart. He honestly didn't know what was stopping him from doing just that- faking some sort of accident to make Fenton disappear, or just plain vanishing. But, as always, Danny pushed away the temptation and closed his eyes, reverting back to his human form with a flash.
He got home in time to miss curfew after another run-in with the Box Ghost and went upstairs after being yelled at for being home late for the thousandth time in a row. He skipped dinner, something that was becoming a habit, before going to his room to study – and was interrupted by yet another ghost.
An hour later found Danny drifting back in through the window, hand on his shoulder to stop the blood flow. He couldn't do much more than clean and bandage the wound thanks to him running out of the thread he needed to stitch it up, before going to bed. Before the night was over, he would be pulled out of his sleep no less than six times thanks to ghost attacks, each time gaining small but incredibly painful injuries.
The next day, Danny woke to the sound of Jazz banging on his door in an effort to wake him up, a longtime morning ritual. He grunted out something unintelligible to let her know that he was awake before rolling out of bed and hauling himself to his feet. God he felt like crap. His head was spinning, his shoulder ached, and his eyelids were threatening to close and remain that way for a month. Nothing new there then.
Danny forced himself to push through the exhaustion and pain to trudge into the bathroom for a shower and to change his bandages. Another morning ritual. When he looked in the mirror, the bags under his eyes were the colour of ink – dark enough to look like he had two black eyes – and yellow-green bruises had already started to form. Again, as usual, he pulled out some of the coverup he had stolen from his sister and used it to hide the worst marks before dressing and leaving the bathroom in favour of going downstairs to the kitchen, where he presented his family with an easily faked bright smile and false energetic appearance. So much for being a terrible liar – no one even looked twice, taking the happy front as the truth. He was getting too good at this if not even his family could tell when he was on the border of collapsing.
Danny flew to school as usual, meeting his friends on the front steps and greeting them with the same faked smile he had given his family even as he leant casually against the wall to stop himself from falling over. They bought it. He answered their questions with his usual answers, fending off anything that came to close to the truth and giving away nothing before rushing off to class as the bell went, hiding his winces as his shoulder was jostled. He knew that if he looked at it, the crisp white fabric that covered his shoulder would be developing the red stain of his blood as it seeped through the bandage.
Danny managed to drift his way through his first three classes half-asleep, knowing that he could borrow notes off his friends. He only had to leave twice, once because he felt like he was going to faint, and the second time because of a ghost attack. Study period passed by as he napped behind his English books before he was woken unpleasantly by the sound of the bell. Lunch time. The dark haired teenager quickly gathered up his books and slipped out of the room before Dash could take the opportunity to smash him into a locker, before dropping off his books and heading towards the cafeteria, praying his luck would last.
It didn't.
The bulk of Casper High's finest quarterback filled his vision, and he felt his shoulders slump. "Goddammit, not now," Danny whispered under his breath, now fully awake and searching for some way out of the situation. There wasn't one.
"Look, it's Fenturd!" Dash exclaimed with faked surprise. Danny tuned out the rest of his introductory speech, instead focusing on trying to think up one of his famous last-minute plans.
But before he could put any half-baked ideas into action, he felt himself being slammed into a locker. His injured shoulder hit the cold metal hard and it was all he could do not to scream as pain burnt through him like a sword coated in acid had been stabbed into his shoulder. Stars appeared behind his eyes as Dash's words disappeared into a haze of pain, and when the hand that was holding Danny against the locker disappeared, he somehow couldn't find the strength to stay upright. Danny fell to his hands and knees, trying desperately to control the pain and keep up his 'I'm fine' act as the stars in his vision were swallowed by black spots that danced before his eyes. His breath came in short, silent gasps as he found it becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. He could vaguely hear Dash's voice sounding concerned somewhere above him, and then there was a hand on his shoulder and he flinched hard, hissing in pain. The hand was quickly withdrawn, just as Danny forced himself to swallow the pain.
Mind over matter, Fenton. C'mon, you need to keep up the act. Get. Up.
He gritted his teeth and pushed himself into a position that was vaguely upright, with a lot of help from the lockers that had helped cause the pain. When he eventually looked up, he saw Dash regarding him with horror, hand held out with the palm facing upwards. Danny tilted his head slightly, blinking, as he tried to clear his vision and see what it was that had caused Dash to be looking at him like that.
Why-? Oh.
...
Crap.
It was blood. The bully's hand was coated in the crimson liquid and Danny instantly knew why Dash was staring at him with such horror. That was his blood. Dash had touched his shoulder after he had slammed him into the lockers. Danny swore under his breath and risked a glance at his shoulder.
Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
The white cloth was soaked in his blood, staining the sleeve of his shirt red. Danny used his good hand to pull himself to his feet before clasping that same hand over his shoulder to try and stop the bleeding, even though he knew it wouldn't help.
Danny's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the situation. The hall had come to a standstill, everyone staring at the pair and Danny's blood-soaked shoulder. Danny could hear Lancer somewhere down the hall shouting for people to get out of his way as he tried to fight his way to the cafeteria. To top it all off, at that moment his ghost sense went off, causing him to shiver violently, breath misting in front of his face.
Danny swore again under his breath and grabbed his bag from where it rested by his feet, slinging it onto his uninjured shoulder. Dash stopped him with an outstretched hand.
"Where are you going?"
The look Danny sent the blonde bully was so cold it could have frozen flames. "Elsewhere."
He was sick of acting. This time, he would either disappear or they would discover at least part of his secret. He refused to keep hiding half of his personality, to keep letting himself be pushed around when he was barely keeping himself standing.
When Danny turned to face the ghost that zoomed through the lockers, his face was set with a look that would have made some of the bravest people in the world cower. Inwardly he was pushing away all his pain and exhaustion and replacing it with frustration and determination. He'd had enough. It was time to drop the act.
A/N: Okay, not so happy with the ending, but whatever. This is going to be a set of one-shots that aren't connected unless specified. They may also not be posted in alphabetical order (because I've been writing stuff all over the place), and there's going to be more than one piece to go with a letter.
Prompts are welcome.
And I apologise to and 'The Mission Files' readers. I'm currently battling writer's block (which is why this was written) and seriously haven't got anything else to upload right now.
