AN: This is a bit of a graphic fic, full angstness…. I'm done…
DISCLAIMER: Characters ain't mine, they belong to Butch
"You've got everyone in Amity Park fooled, Phantom! But I see right through you're little act!" The man shouted, his 9mm pointed at Danny Phantom's head. Danny rolled his eyes at this.
"What act? I'm just trying to keep these people safe. And what the heck is a gun gonna do to me?"
"It's better this way, I'm putting this town out of its misery!" the nameless man yelled, his entire frame shaking as he tried to steady his arm.
Danny turned to his friend, Sam, who was standing a ways off, "What I am supposed to do?" he asked her desperately. "He's got a gun!"
He turned back to the man and saw his trigger finger start to pull slowly back. Danny automatically turned intangible, not sure what a bullet would do his ghost half. His head whipped around to see where the bullet had landed. His best friend, Sam, was leaning against the wood fence behind them. From her midsection oozed red.
"Sam!" Danny gasped. Ignoring the man with the gun who was now staring at her in horror, backing away from what he had done. Danny flew to where she was standing against the fence, letting the familiar rings surround him in mid-flight.
"Sam! Oh my gosh! Sam you're...you're," he couldn't form his jumbled, frantic thoughts into words. Sam looked at him in dazed confusion.
"What's wrong, Danny?" She looked down to her stomach where Danny was staring horrified. Sam paled, "That can't be good." She lifted her hand up to the bullet hole, slipping a little in the gore. She'd meant to be applying pressure but the blood kept dripping out. She looked at Danny who seemed to be getting taller
"Danny, what...?" she started to cough as her knees made contact with the concrete below, spewing the liquid on to Danny's face as he knelt beside her, panic overtaking his mind. Pull yourself together, Fenton! Danny thought desperately, the blood sliding down his face like sweat. You've faced down the worst of the worst, focus! Danny took a deep breath, which didn't help because he could smell the sweet, coppery scent. He placed his hands over hers and pressed harder, weakening the flow.
"Hang in there, Sam. You're gonna be okay," he repeated this over and over, trying to make himself believe it more than her, trying not to taste her blood on his lips.
"I feel fine, I'll be alright in a minute," but her pale, clammy skin said otherwise. Danny could feel her slipping lower to the ground and her tried to hold her up while pushing down on her stomach.
"I think I'm just gonna sleep, Danny. I'm kinda tired," Her head nodded in forward.
"No Sam! Don't go to sleep! You need to stay awake," since he couldn't move his hands, Danny pushed her head up with his, his forehead against hers. Feeling the cold flesh of her face, watching the light slowly leave her eyes. It was too much for him. Danny grimaced, and gruesome expression filled with grief, anger, and so much desperation.
"Don't you dare die on me, Sam Manson. Just don't," Danny gritted his teeth. Sam was dazed and delirious but she felt a smile draw at the corners of her mouth for a reason she didn't know, but despite her smile a sob broke from her throat and tears fell over her cheeks. She watched Danny's anguished face, splotted with crimson, as it lost focus and melted into the black world that filled her mind.
Danny sat in a hard chair of the emergency room. He felt like hiding his grimy face but he couldn't stop staring at the blood that coated from under his fingernails to his elbows. He felt like hiding from all the people rushing by, luckily none of them paid him any attention as the bustled to their own duties. He could feel the stares of his parents, Jazz, and Tucker. But the worst of the eyes on him were the eyes of Sam's parents. They didn't know what to think, whether to be grateful that he had did his best to save her or furious that because of him Sam was put the position to get shot. They seemed kind of out of it while the police were questioning Danny about the gunshot. But still Danny felt as if their eyes were screaming "It's all your fault!" He wanted to cover his ears and drown out their accusations but no one said a word.
It IS you're fault, his mind told him over and over.
No, no, no, Danny just shook his head, trying to shake the grotesque truth from his mind. His tears fell harder and faster, but he wouldn't wipe them from his face.
"Danny," he looked up to see Tucker placing his hand on Danny's shoulder, a gesture of comfort. Danny could see that Tucker's glasses were fogged up, and it made Danny feel the guilt ever heavier on his heart.
"Come on, lets get you washed up," Tucker said, pulling him up and leading him towards the men's room. Danny just kept nodding his head as he followed Tucker.
It was late at the hospital so there weren't many people inside the restroom, which was lucky. Danny imagined it'd be a little disturbing to see two teenage kids rinsing blood off in the sink. He chanced a glance in the mirror and saw his face, streaked with tears and blood, and he violently shook. He frantically washed the red off in the cool water, splashing his face more than necessary. He watched in silence as it dripped off his fingers and swirled in the water. He rubbed the soap all the way up to his sleeve and over his face. His appearance in the mirror was scary. Despite cleaning the blood from his arms it still stained the whole front of his shirt. A strangled noise came from his throat and he ripped the shirt over his head with shaking hands. He tossed it in the sink with the water still on.
"Dude, it wasn't your fault," Tucker said. His placed his hand on Danny's bare shoulder.
Danny's voice was low and menacing, "It was, Tuck. It was my fault."
"No, man..." but Tucker was cut off a loud bang of Danny's fists against the porcelain sink.
"He was standing there with that gun, Tuck! And I was just laughing at him! I mean, what can a gun do to a ghost, but then he shot and I went intangible...and she was right there! Just behind me and let it hit her. And she was sitting there bleeding... and... I tried to stop it, but... there was just so much blood! I couldn't stop it! Why couldn't... What's wrong with me!" Danny was screaming, his fist hit the mirror which shattered, and there was blood on his hands again. He stared at it and remembered having Sam's blood on those same hands just minutes ago. He dropped to his knees, sobs wracking his entire frame. Arms hugging his knees he wept like never had before. Tucker silently sat next to him, tears dropping from his cheeks as well.
"I mean..." Danny strangled out between gasps. "What is wrong with me? It's Sam... and I let her...I should've...should've saved..." But the words wouldn't come anymore, due to his hyperventilating gasps. Tucker rested an arm around his best friend's back.
"She's gonna be alright, Danny. And if you want I'm sure she'd willing to beat you up," Danny smiled a bit at this.
"I'll find you a new shirt," Tucker said after sitting at his friend's side for awhile. He got up and left the bathroom, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts. He stood and walked over to where the sink was still on, blocked by his shirt in the drain and starting to spill over the sides. The water was tinted pink, as was his once white shirt. He switched off the water and dipped his hands into the water. He pulled the soaked shirt from the sink but immediately dropped back in the water as it filled his nose with that same sickly stench. He heaved into the next sink, emptying the contents of his stomach. He let the water run again and glanced in the mirror. He wiped the sick and tears from his face, feeling his eyes sting from crying. He prayed hard to anyone who was listening to let Sam live. He knew the bullet had hit her abdomen, and that in itself was vital, but he didn't know enough anatomy to really make a difference in his worries. He just hoped she'd be alright.
He started at the door opening with Tucker swinging in, throwing a teal scrubs shirt in his face, "Come on! She's out of surgery and we can go see her!" Tucker was practically skipping. Danny rushed out of the bathroom, pulling the shirt over his head as he ran down the halls. They stopped at the door only to swing it open as fast as possible. Danny stopped when he saw her, all hooked up to various machines the showed the rhythm of her heartbeat. This time he didn't care that everyone was staring at him, he went right to her side and held her hand in his, relief just flooded through his mind, filling him up with warmth. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he could tell that time pasted by watching his family and friends leave for their own beds. It must've been pretty late, Danny thought. All who were left was him and Sam's parents, who had long since fallen asleep in each other's arms. Danny glanced around the sterile room, the IV cords leaking fluid into his best friend, the smell of sick people (as Tucker put it), and the beeping machines. How much he wished none of this had happened, but he didn't dare speak. He didn't want to ruin the serene expression that Sam wore at that moment. She still looked as pale as a ghost, but at least her skin wasn't clammy or cold anymore. Instead of being half pulled up into her normal ponytail, her hair hung limp around her face. What gave him hope in the situation was her breathing, he could hear her strong breathing, in and out with the will to survive, and from then on he knew that she would survive, because she was a fighter. Finally he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall: 3:27. Danny sighed, thinking he should go home and sleep, but then the hand he was holding moved. He looked to see Sam's eyes starting to flutter open.
"Sam! Can you hear me?" Danny said with quiet excitement.
Sam's eyes peaked open, "Danny?" Her violet iris's seemed so far away.
"Yeah, I'm right here," Danny said, grasping her hand tighter. She was weak, but she squeezed his hand back faintly.
"What happened?" she asked, trying to shake the dazed feeling of morphine.
Danny hesitated, "You got shot, Sam. It was really scary. I flew you here and you were surgery for I don't know how long, but..." Danny could feel the tears welling up again, but he had to continue, for Sam's sake. "It was my fault, Sam. All my fault. I should've just..." his words lost in a restrained sob.
Sam watched him struggle for words, her mouth shut. While Danny tried to overcome his emotions. After a minute or two he felt her other hand cover their clasped hands. Danny looked up at her, she had tears welling up in her own eyes.
"Thanks for saving my life," she said simply. Her smile was vague and her eyes drooped, due to the morphine. She layed back and let her head fall into the pillow and sighed, "You'll always save me."
Danny gave a weak laugh of relief, guilt letting go of its grasp on him. He leaned in and placed a timid kiss on her temple, "Yeah, I will."
"Always."