Letters Unsent
Based off of Pearl87's Checkmate. He knows it's unhealthy. Pointless, as a matter of fact-seeing as they're always lost in emerald flames or tucked
privately away to burn later. Still, after leaving such poor "goodbye" letters-the hybrid takes pen to paper to recount his own memories in Vlad's
castle.....as well as his own suffering.
Whew! Hallo, everyone. I hope you're well-this came to me a few months ago, actually-but I haven't had the chance to properly type anything
until now.
Bit of an odd day today-am looking forward very much to Thanksgiving break next week. Also, am hoping I can get all this work I've planned to
publish Monday done in time….
But Que Sera Sera. Enough blathering about my own odd work schedule-I really hope you like!
Quote:
For your born writer, nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word.
Catherine Drinker Bowen
~*~
Contrary to popular belief, Danny Jack Fenton is not an idiot.
The occasional rash and unlevelheaded hybrid, yes……but not an idiot.
Letters GO places. They are mailed. Postage marks, stamps-and all that rather lovely stuff. That's their entire purpose-to have the message and
information in question reach their recipient. Failing a letter, there's always telephoning, email, or other such things.
He knows that. That much has always been obvious to the hybrid-even as a child.
And he also knows that the messages that he writes-are not really letters at all.
How can he say such a thing when his letters end up in the fireplace or he winds up burning the small bit of paper to ashes?
~*~*~*~*~*
It's a depressing activity….and not a very healthy one to do at that.
He knows that, too. But, in his restless hours, when flying or training-or even a catfight with the billionaire, in the beginning-simply would not do in
relieving him of excess energy, Danny had grudgingly taken pen to paper.
~*~*~*~*~
Twenty minutes later, the letter he had wanted to write to his parents-the truth-was in his trembling hands.
And he'd cried because of it.
Wouldn't he have so much rathered to leave this one instead of the other in Amity?
But it would have only put them in unnecessary risk. Jazz would have been put in extreme danger if the man had become angry enough.....
.....so he thought, but that's another story.
Though it had hurt, it had made him feel....oddly better, in a way. Nonetheless, he really wasn't going to try and think about it.
Feeling unbelievably embarrased, that letter had found the trash.
And then, he fished it out-if only to burn it with a simple ecto blast from his silver palms to ashes.
The letters WERE unhealthy. AND pointless, by itself, seeing as they had no where to go except empty air. He felt slightly guilty for wasting paper-
Sam would have long killed him by now if she had discovered just how many sheets he had used. Still-it wasn't as though Vlad would really notice
a bit of paper or stationary missing in an immense office such as his. Danny simply could of asked.....but felt no remote desire to ask the man for
anything when he had first arrived-particularly for reasons he'd much rather keep to himself.
Still, it's a method that he employs mostly after an event leaves him not so broken as to the brink of despair-such as when he had finally
shattered after his ghost powers had gone into severe overload....and when Jazz and the others had come to take him ba.....
He shuddered at that thought from where he perched. That memory was always going to leave a dark aftermath of bitterness towards the
billionaire....which Danny was TIRED of feeling.
That did not mean it at all was going to evaporate, but he digressed. He figured the dying habit would fade, soon enough. His revelation in
Germany on the balcony was proof enough that it wasn't right to keep this facade up.
The "letters" didn't solve anything. And, if the memories of his loved ones were slowly killing him, then maybe......
Still…..the letters he DID write….the ones that WERE meant to reach their intended target back at Amity-always echoed did have the two words
he could never let himself to say. Occasionally, at night-before going out to fly to clear his head for a little bit-he would stare at the ceiling of his
own roof, two customary words that are, quite simply, often found IN letters:
"Good-bye."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The letters began to cease vibrant flow on some occasions. Attempting to get along with Vladimir-and actually succeeding-give or take the
occasional, understandable spat……takes up a great deal of both hybrids' time in the mindnumbing ponderings of figuring the other out.
And failing, usually. Vlad is never quite sure he can guess Daniel's true intentions-or even if he has one at all, anymore. It's likewise with the
younger hybrid.
In the midst of two difficult conspiracies-one weakening of gain, the other slowly rising of give-it's almost a push-pull reaction. Kind of funny,
actually.
Still, it certainly beats being locked up or ignored to spend waking hours wandering pointlessly around the enormous manor. For Danny DOES rely
on his distractions.....Vlad is one of them. Classwork-annoying as it can be sometimes-is another. As is training.
Which is why Danny does not take up pen too much at the present time-though many a "letter" to Sam explaining his own puzzled doubts was
written to relay his own thoughts.
The other letters he has written to Sam burned up rather quickly, often unfinished; he could never think of.....that thing to say, and the thought
usually turned his ears red.
The days go by here, as they do. Many become routine-though there is somehing unique in each one. If Danny is denied the other communication
luxuies, there are still....little things.
~*~
The letters have become something of a journal entry for the boy-not that the pages to Mom, Dad, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker usually survived very
long……and not that Danny was really much of the type to own a journal anyway, truth be told.
If he did, he would have destroyed it long ago. Journals were basis of day-to-day life. Ms. Thomas often found herself drilling that into Danny's
head before an exam…..though again, pretty obvious.
When the teen had first arrived, he had had no intention of thinking of Vlad's enormous manor as home. Home was not in Wisconsin for the boy-
not in Vlad's Castle-
Not even in Amity Park, funnily enough. He figured that one out after two and a half months of his prolonged stay here.
Although the little ghost infested, oddball village that he was born in-grew up in-was much beloved to the teen, home wasn't necessarily there.
Home was with the people you loved.
And….another thing: Day to day life. No way in the Ghost Zone would he ever develop a life in Vlad's own home. He'd been quite sure the thought
was ridiculous. Even now, it seemed absurd……
…though not really impossible. His thoughts on such a subject had once been solid iron.
Now…..it was more like shale, which could crack, given enough force. Still, it was a fairly sturdy material.
But life happens wherever you find it. Even in the home full of…..dead specters and an enigmatic, fruitloop hybrid.
Speaking of which…..
Danny sighed as he lowered his pencil, tapping it thoughtfully to his face for a minute or two. A bird twittered in the branch nearby, and, after
giving the young hybrid an extremely strange look, took off in a blur of dusty red. The hybrid watched her go, then resumed his writing from where
he perched on the roof.
The younger hybrid HAD used to go to the forest for such things....but after the-less-then-fun encounter with Da-
He shook his head violently, and continued his small script.
Vlad did not have time to train alongside Danny today-he had gone off to some business meeting. Danny rolled his eyes at the thought.
If the billionaire thought these so tiresome-why did he still exist on doing it? What more did he want after Axion Labs?
He thought he could guess. Power. And lots of it.
Irritating though that was-he would not voice it. Except to Sam and Tucker, that was.
....who would never read these, but bygones. They were the two he could be the most honest with. Who had he confided in his ghostly
counterpart? And who so often had stepped in to aid Danny against one of his many enemies?
He glanced down at his handiwork again.
Still a fruitloop, always a Fruitloop, I guess. In the end, there's really no throwing the towel in for things to be like they used to be.
The boy paused. It was almost lunchtime. He'd best hurry.
I don't know what I'm trying to accomplish-or even if I can DO anything at all about it. I'm sorry-I know you guys would be fuming by this point if you
knew....
But maybe it will do SOMETHING worthwhile, at the end. What will come, will come, and we'll just have to meet it when it does.
Tell Jazz, Mom, and Dad I love them. Take care-
Danny.
"Daniel?"
The boy started slightly, then relaxed.
Oh. The meeting must have ended.
The younger hybrid drew his note a small, slightly wistful glance.
Then, engulfing it emerald flames, he turned slightly to glide down towards his window, where the elder hybrid waited, giving an odd glance
towards the younger-but said nothing.
Wow. This was REALLY bad.....gomen nasai.