I understand that the revelation fic has been done several times before, but it wouldn't be too much of that. More like an extended ending to Phantom Planet. It hurts that the show wasn't as dark or as serious as I would have liked it to have been, but it is directed towards a certain audience. This is my view on what should have happened.

Danny Phantom is owned by Eric Cartma- wait, no. Butch Hartman. Sorry. Enjoy the show!

Fallen Defenses

A gallon of fuel was taken from the back of the assault vehicle and carried to the opening on the side. The addition was made not so long ago, when the dexterous Mrs. Fenton had stumbled upon the trick to create a stable ectoplasmic fuel source, able to keep for extensive periods of time without harming the drivers or passers-by and was compatible with fossil fuel engines. The lady's husband took the jug in his strong hands and poured the contents into the vehicle's tank. She leaned against the RV, staring out at the landscape.

Deep in a dry basin, amidst a sea of lush, undisturbed green lay an ancient city of crumbling stone with a ring of steps surrounding the rock huts, all leading to a proud, aged tower. Naturally grown crops and plants colored the land further: Boojum trees, cacti, coralbean plants, and various shrubs and grasses decorated the land like jewels would a king. No smog, no fumes- just clean air, spiced with the aromas of flora. Invigorating, really, especially when paired with the warm air and rich sunrise, peeking over the tip of the tower like a curious boy with his scribbles of red, orange and yellow close behind. Maddie Fenton could only stare, numbed to the beauty by the deepest pain a mother can suffer.

"How long has it been," questioned Jack with a low, parched voice. The woman didn't respond all too quickly. He set the container down.

"I don't really know," muttered Maddie. "They days just kinda. . . blur together."

"Hm."

She looked to her husband. A pallor has passed over him like death. He slouched forward, weary and stressed. Jack paid no heed to his pangs of cravings, as was evident by the weight loss. Not even fudge could deter him from the matter at hand.

Maddie shifted. "It explains a lot, you know. The late nights and bad grades."

". . . Yeah. It does, doesn't it? Not ideal, but I suppose it could have been worse. That much power should have. . . you know."

The squawk of a tinamou bird sounded below as the creature scurried past. Bugs chirped and skittered. A breeze blew, ruffling the hunters' hair. There was a ring. Maddie patted her pockets for the communicator, and withdrew the item once found. She clicked the button. "Hello?"

"The signal's stronger this time," stated a female voice. Jack turned his head to listen. "But he's headed even farther south, probably past the border of Guatemala. We need to pick it up again or we'll lose him for good."

"Got it. We're on our way, Sam." The older was about to stuff the communicator back in her pouch.

"Mrs. Fenton."

The woman stopped.

". . . Are you alright? You are his mother- must be tough."

There was a stab of pain in the hearts of both listeners. The father covered his face with one hand. Memories suddenly reeled back to them. It was cold. Danny probably liked it, or was at least more comfortable then the rest of them. The reaction was most bewildering. For that first moment, when he passively changed and accepted their embrace, they thought that there was a chance for everything to return to normal and for them to be a family again. But there are times when, frankly, face value is all you need. In half the blink of an eye Phantom had replaced Fenton, ripped the weapons from their belts and smashed them to the ground. Burned into memory was that indignant, frightfully vengent scowl, just before their son had disappeared.

"You're hunters, right," he asked. "Come and get me."

"Hello? Mrs. Fenton? Are you still there?"

The lady blinked. This wasn't the top of the world. This was mexico. Not the past, the now, no matter how close the two were. "Keep on his trail," demanded Maddie. "He's dangerously close to the equator. You know what heat does to ghosts. I'll catch up with you and Tucker."

She turned off the link and climbed into the RV with her husband and drove off with their eldest daughter snoozing heavily in the back.

Breakline

The blips escalated in volume and frequency. A trail of dust had been kicked up by the motor vehicles. A glorious mountain towered in the background. Sam turned her head to Tucker, following shortly behind. "The signal's coming from off the road. We're pulling over." The pair grinded to a halt, each removing the trackers from the motorcycles and scouting the area for a lead. Tall grasses and thickets grew up from around the dirt road. The sky was a clear blue by now, but Sam and Tucker had grown weary (Circadian rhythms take time to adjust, you know). The girl sighed. "He can't be far but. . ."

"Yeah. Interfering signals." Foley tested a few buttons and settings. "No idea what's doing it though. You see anyone around here? To ask for help?"

"Not a soul. Let's just get back to the bikes." She trudged back to the vehicles. Tucker frowned and called her name. She stopped, didn't turn.

". . . I'm worried, too. But we will find him. Everything will be alright in the end."

"How do you know?"

Tucker was taken aback by the tone. Sam rotated her head, eyes brimming with tears. "You saw what he did. You heard what he said. Danny doesn't trust his family anymore than they did him. And he has every reason! What if they actually decide to experiment on and cut him up? To inject him with a bunch of chemicals and poisons, or to rip him apart and throw him away when they're done. And after everything he did and gave up! What then, Tucker?" She covered her face in her hands and sobbed. "What can we possibly do when that happens?"

The boy frowned. Of course she would take this hard. Even if her family was so radically different and controlling of her, Sam still loved and cared for her mom and dad very much, not to mention Danny himself. When familiar flesh and blood turn on you, everything is uprooted like the earth being pulled from under your feet. What you thought was safe, warm and kind wasn't after all. Tucker looked down. If his family were to do or say anything like that. . . Well, that wasn't something he fancied thinking of.

He took Sam in his arms in a brief, yet appreciated breach of personal space. She clung tightly, almost squeezing a tear or two out of his own eyes. "Stop calling it a 'when'," he said. "It's an 'if' for now, but only if we get back to the job and save Danny. And ghost, human or whatever in-between, they are still a family. He'll be fine and he'll be able to trust them again. Not immediately, but eventually. I promise."

Sam broke away and wiped her tears. "I'm holding you to that," she said with grit teeth.

"Good. C'mon, let's get back to looking around. Maybe the signal will clear if we drive ahea- wait, who's that?"

"Where?"

"There."

Gazing up at another mountain was a woman. A curtain of black hair billowed lightly behind her and her form was clad in a long, tattered poncho and skirt. Strange- she wasn't standing there before. Tucker jogged up to her and proceeded to tap her shoulders. "Hello? Miss?"

The boy's hand passed through and the woman and nothing but a loosely garbed white skeleton turned. A particularly frightful ghost, to say the least.

Tuckered screeched, stumbling backwards into Sam's arms, who was still able to stand her ground. The spirit hovered forward with her hands in the air, speaking strange and ancient words in a gentle, yet frantic tone. Tucker stood back up. Sam relaxed. "Do you know what she's saying," the girl inquired softly. Tucker shook his head.

The ghost's words trailed off, her countenance dismayed. Then she spoke again: the same language as before, but something was different. Less ancient, more like the content of a high school spanish class, something Tucker had only minimal experience in. Even though the latin roots of esperanto would have helped, comprehension was difficult. "Sorry," said the boy. "We can't understand you."

"Oh." The woman fidgeted some. "Say ingles?"

"Yes! Yes, english." Tucker was perhaps a little too enthusiastic, but the spirit clapped her carpal bones and phalanges in delight. "Look, we need some help. Um, ayuda."

"Ayuda?"

"Yes, ayuda. Help." Tucker dug around in his pockets. "We're looking for a friend. Amigo." He pointed to his eyes and he took out a folded piece of paper and unfolded it. The woman leaned forward. "Have you seen him?"

She looked at the boy in the photo, smiling with bright blue eyes and blackened locks. Dismayed, she shook her head.

"Tucker," Sam nudged the boy. "Wrong one."

"Ok, ok. I was just making sure. Here." He took out a new picture depicting Phantom. The woman's face lit up with alertness at the white hair and green eyes.

"Ah," she exclaimed. "I see, I see! Friend not good. Friend bad."

"Bad?"

"Si. Débil." The woman curved her form to the side, placing the back of her palm to her frontal bone. "Daño." She pointed to some aged cuts in her vertebrae. "Pobre." She hugged her arms around her middle. "Temeroso." Her palms were put up and she shrunk down, as though she were to be struck. It was clear that this woman had seen Danny, but the image wasn't the one they had hoped for. She took the children by the arms and brought them close to listen. "Go," she ungently hissed. "See friend. Ayuda. A la montaña." She thrust a finger to the snowy peak further south. "Rapido! See friend! Ayuda!"

"We got it," nodded Sam. "Thank you. Muchas gracias."

The spirit nudged them towards their vehicles. The engines roared to life and the spirit vanished as the children did.

Breakline

Jazz woke up to a bumpy trail. Weren't RVs suppose to have a smoother ride? But she was in no mood for thinking just yet. She sat up and stretched, pushing off the thin blanket that covered her. She blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Looked like it was dad's turn to drive. Evening was settling in outside, too, with a gloomy, greyish blue. All the better to make the stars pop out, twinkling as brightly as the could as if to give hope and light to the frantic family and lost boy. Cicadas chirped, birds twittered, beetles hummed, frogs croaked, and the blips on the tracker kept a steady pace. Jazz yawned. "Is he back yet?"

"Not yet," replied Jack. "But we'll find him."

"He won't run away again?"

"Hopefully not," replied the mother. "But if he does," she lifted up a small cylindrical container, "We can still try to bring him home."

"Mom!" Jazz straightened up. "You can't be serious!"

"We are if it comes to that extreme," stated Jack firmly. "We can't talk any sense into Danny if he's running away- you know that as much as we do. We want to be as nonviolent as possible."

The Fenton thermos wasn't the only item packed in the RV. The grappler, the foamer, and the gloves were also packed in the back in a brown sack. A blue backpack leaned against the driver's seat. Jazz clenched her fists. "Nonviolent," she muttered. "Nonviolent is bringing cages and weapons?"

Her question was not answered. The blips on the Fenton finder had become increasingly quick. Jack pulled over and stepped out of the vehicle with a hand on the pistol in his belt. Maddie followed suit, shutting off the tracker, shutting off the beeper, and taking the bags with her. She gave the brown one to Jack. Jazz stumbled out after them, still a bit dazed and unable to mimic the tactful steps of her parents. Grasses bent and twigs crunched. All the little creatures scurried and flapped away. A stillness had passed over the area. Mom and Dad inspected the area for traces and leads. Jack stopped by a tree. "Mads, take a look at this."

The woman jogged over. On the trunk strange burn markings had been made- a few rings of small spots arching over one larger one. Maddie pressed her hand to the marks. Still warm, too. "He's been here," she said.

"And look here," commented Jazz. In the grass foot prints had been made. One row had been made of normal sized prints, but the others were stretched out, almost connecting into one straight line. "Danny's been hurt. Think you still want to carry around those pistols?"

"Like we said: only if it calls for it. We don't intent to hurt him if we don't have to."

"What makes you think you'll have to?"

"You saw-"

"Yes, I saw. He ran away. He smashed your weapons and he ran away. Bringing guns a-and gases will only make it worse, don't you see that!?"

"Jazz." Jack placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder and gestured towards the burn on the tree. "He could be more dangerous now than he was before. Not only to us but also himself. If he needs to be stopped, then he needs to be stopped. But we did not bring these weapons for plan A. Do you understand now?"

She refused to respond and made sure that her parents knew of her persistent disagreement. She turned away swiftly and the father sighed. Maddie gripped her pistol. "If you want no part of this, that's fine," she said. "But your father and I have some work to do." The two proceeded along the trees, following the trail of prints. And the daughter followed regardless. Adults has supremacy of law and Jazz was simply not one to give such orders.

At one point the footprints vanished, like the feet that made them had dissipated into air. Where they picked up again was near a new row of trees a few feet away. More hand prints were found on the trunks. Jack grimaced. Maddie bit her lip. Jazz kept her distance behind the parents. They were running out of time, it seemed. They picked up their pace. Rocks and boulders started to appear. The footprints disappeared once more. The adults scouted the area closely. No new prints were found. Maddie checked the tracker again. An abrupt rustling sounded off to the left. The trio froze. A patch of tall grass jerked this way and that. No one dared to even breathe, let alone move. There was a groan. A figure started to rise.

The black jumpsuit had been reduced to mere shreds and hung loosely on a bone thin body. The skin was pale and appeared close to death. White hair had been cast into a dingy tangle. All over there were wounds. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, gashes, and many more gruesome afflictions, varying from fresh to scabbed over, wet to dry blood and ectoplasm, gushing and deadly to pink and scarred. The figure- a boy- leaned heavily on a single leg and clasped his forearm with a shaky hand and fluids seeping through his fingers. And those eyes- red with tears and lack of sleep, but crazed with enough fear and terror to never want sleep again. He breathed shallow breaths and didn't notice the others. The boy had seemed aged beyond reasonable years, broken and beaten in every way possible, numb for all he had endured during his escape. Nothing less than heartbreaking, especially for the family that had let this happen. Jazz teared up. Jack could not look. Maddie felt faint, the pistol slipping from her grip and clattering to the grass-padded ground.

He heard and saw.

The fear had immediately zipped to the most frightful of hates and angers. The air around Danny was set ablaze with ectoplasmic power. He said no words- just a wild shriek to signal battle. The perimeter of his energies expanded wide and fast. The grasses and trees were torched without warning. The three had ran away just far enough to avoid injury. Jack fished out the grappler. "Get Jazz outta her. I'll take care of Danny."

"Understood." Maddie pulled her daughter to her feet and led her away as fast as their feet would allow. Danny lunged for the older male. Jack sidestepped and aimed the grappler. Jack fired. Danny arched his back over the rope and the net fell to the ground, soon pulling back. The boy twisted to his father again with out-stretched arms and hands burning with green energy. Another miss. Danny phased into the ground. Jack panicked. He jerked his head this way and that. The grappler was kept ready. Where did he go?!

Something suddenly grabbed a hold of his jumpsuit. There the boy was, right behind. The older male was being lifted off the very ground he fought on. One swift aim and Jack had sacked the halfa's face with the net. The ghost released him in a struggle to remove the trap. Mr. Fenton rushed back to the brown bag, donned the gloves and ripped out the foam.

Danny tore off the net, eyes blazing with rage. Another wave of green fire tore ravenously through the land. Mr. Fenton had enough time to dive behind a boulder. The heat ran along his sides. He scrunched his eyes to stay strong. The flare died. Flames crackled about as they fed on the vegetation that couldn't escape. Jack shook the can of foam to ready for firing. Slow footsteps sounded.

The father rolled out from behind the rock and readied the foam. One quick spray sent Phantom back a few steps. He looked up, alarmed. The older man proceeded with more foam. The ghost retreated and flew up and around the man. Jack flanked. Danny was suddenly stopped. When he attempted to run around, Jack was there to cut him off. A few more sprays and Danny had been trapped. in his own layered ring of foam. Jack paused to catch his breath. Maddie, hurry up!

Danny was on his feet again. He turned his head, then body, slowly to face his father. The glare was an indignant one, the irises sharply taking on an icy hue. Danny raised his arms at his sides in two similar archs to stop around his shoulders. In unison mountains of ice rose from the very ground and flooded over the dirt and burning debris. A mist rolled over the floors. The chill stabbed at Jack's feet. He tried to lift them, but failed. He was stuck and started to panic himself. Danny stepped over the ring of what was foam with ease. He walked slowly. "And I thought you were the hunter," growled the boy. In his palm was a blue aura. Enough of the cold would certainly kill Jack. The older looked at his gloved hands.

I've got no choice now.

He pounded at the ground first to free his feet. The father then plunged his hands to grip a solid piece of ice. Thanks to the gloves, the glacier was now held over his head and ready for launching. "Forgive me," he breathed. The ice went flying towards Danny. The blue aura in his hand was rapidly switched to green. One swipe and the glaced was reduced to crude ice cubes, suitable only for a beverage. Jack tried again and again. The result was the same. It was the old man's turn to be backed into the corner. No, he told himself. This needs to be done before he hurts himself even more.

Jack pushed himself into Phantom with the gloves readied. The ghost caught in the grip and the two were caught into a push war. Emerald flames danced about the boy and he gave a new battle cry. The flames reached the man's cheek and burnt the flesh, all the way up past the eye. Danny was getting stronger. Jack didn't hesitate. Both of his son's hands were taken into his and the other was slashed across his son's face. The fire vanished. Danny was thrown to the cold, hard ground and was sitting up almost as quickly as he was forced down. Phantom wiped his face. Fresh ectoplasm was already running down his face and into his eyes. The stained hand shook. His glare was a piercing and twisting knife. All of his anger had forced him into silence.

"Danny," Jack reasoned with watering eyes. "I'm sorry for hunting you, hurting you, and all those other horrible things. But you need to calm down and trust us again." The son stood up, still favoring the one leg. "Please, you've been starved and wounded and your own family couldn't even help you. And even your powers are becoming dangerous to you! Please, stop fighting. Let us heal you!" He took a deep breath through his nose to fill his stomach and chest. "Danny, are you even listening to me?!"

A pause. Danny wrinkled his nose and spoke.

"Listen to this, hunter."

The beginning of the note was another yell, but had escalated into a wail. Ice and trees and grass and dirt were all thrown up in the waves. The very earth beneath them cracked and split. Jack dove behind a glacier and clamped his hands over his ears. That wail, that pain! Knives must have been driven into his ears, for he was dizzy with the physical hurt. And still the debris continued to fly. The glacier that protected Jack had begun to crumble down from the top. The noise grew louder still. Jack was trapped, bested by the ghost as he always had been. If the sound didn't kill him, then falling ice would. If not the ice, then the cracks. If not the cracks, then by the hands of his own boy. Mr. Fenton was glad his wife was not present. Jack prayed then. He prayed for forgiveness, for mercy for his failure as a father, for another opportunity for his son to be happy once more, whether it be this life, the next, or whatever it would have been. But another chance to make it up to his boy? There was not enough kindness for Jack for that request, it seemed.

Suddenly the wail halted. Mr. Fenton slowly lifted his hands off his ears, paying no heed to the new blood. There was a flash of light. The older peeked around the corner. In the middle of burn and frozen destruction sat a small, teenage boy, hugging himself tight and shaking with sobs. How frail and hurt. Jack ripped off the gloves and rushed to his boy's side, suddenly slowing down again. His steps were cautious now. Jack knelt on one knee in front of the child and raised a hand to comfort. ". . .Son?"

Nothing. Danny wouldn't even look his father in the eye. He simply lifted his hands up to the older gentleman, bent with the palms facing downward, like a prisoner about to be cuffed.

Danny-a Fenton- was giving up.

He collapsed to the ground, but fell into his fathers arms. The head lolled back. Tear streaks and blood were still so fresh. Jack's own eyes stung. He cried, but lifted his boy and held him close. Mr. Fenton was a father, was he not? It's about time I start doing my job.

The trip back was silent. Maddie had brought the RV back. Sam and Tucker had met up with the rest of the family. A horror and relief fell on the expressions of Danny's friends. Jazz sobbed at the sight of her brother and turned away, clinging to her mother. The dad took the blue bag into the back and put the medical supplies within to use. Jazz sat in the front and Maddie drove. Sam and Tucker followed close behind. Mission complete

Breakline

Snow sprinkled gently upon the calm and warm homes of Amity Park. Tucked in his own bed with soft sheets and Jazz's stuffed bear (that she had loaned to her brother) was the returned son. Jack tended to the fever Danny had acquired on his travels. The wounds had not had much time to heal, but they had at least been bandaged and he could sleep in his own bed again. Mr. Fenton scratched at the skin under his T-shirt and sweat pants before placing a cool wash rag on Danny's forehead. Looking upon the calmer face of his boy, Jack could bare some irritation for now.

Maddie gently peeked in with a small tray of piping hot stew, cold juice and water. She approached the nightstand, from which Jack removed the bowl of ice water and medkit. "How is he," whispered the mother as she placed the food down and tugged at the collar of her blouse.

"The fever's gone down," he replied in the same volume. "Not broken yet. I'll see if we can get him on some antibiotics if need be. Physically improving but emotionally or psychologically. . ."

Maddie placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm scared too, Jack."

There was a soft moan. The parents back away an inch or two from the bedside. Sure enough Danny had woken. His eyes darted between their new change of clothes, then up to his father's bandaged face. The son started to cry. "I'm sorry, guys. I-I'm so sorry-"

"Danny, it's ok." The mother moved back in. "You don't have to apologize."

"Mom, it's not ok. I was angry and scared and upset a-and I lost control and-" He lapsed into a heap of sobs.

"Shh, shh." Maddie wiped away the boy's tears. "You don't have to explain yourself. We all got scared too, baby. We all did and we didn't need to be. We're family. We love you. Hopefully you still love us. You're a hero and you're back home, safe and sound."

"B-but I hurt you."

"So did we," replied Jack. "For longer and worse. No amount of fudge could fix that, I don't think. It's a surprise you hid it for so long and that we reacted the way we did. Can. . . can you forgive us, son?"

Danny finally sat up with his mother's help and held up the rag. He looked down and shut his eyes. Two more tears streamed down. He nodded. "T-thank you, guys."

A warm hug was exchanged between the three. Danny devoured the hot meal soon after and went back to sleep for a bit longer. Tests, observations, family ghost hunting, stories of Phantom's adventures- that could all wait. Family and recovery first. For the first time in a long time, everyone in the Fenton household slept without troubles or nightmares.

Breakline

So, who cried? I did! Didja think Jack and Maddie dressing in regular clothes to not scare Danny was sweet? :3

I have a few versions of the revelation of his secret, but I'll just stick with this one. I hope you all liked it. Please review my story (maybe give me a cookie and tell me what you liked) and I hope to see you all next time! Happy new year!

-Magician Irono