Authors Note: Well if you're anything like me and you've been around this community for a bit then you probably hate Danny's children stories. I hate them. There is probably one or two that actually were worth reading I don't remember what. Also as a another note (rant) Danny's kid would not be a carbon copy of his father or mother, just because you know how to write for the characters on the show doesn't mean you get to plaster their personalities on a new character that happens to be their kid; that doesn't make sense. But anyway to honor my absolute loathing for something that is so ludicrously saccharine I have decided to make one of my own.
Warning: This is not a happy story. There will be numerous complexes, alcoholism, self-loathing and pretty much all the psychological issues I feel someone who was born to a half-ghost super hero would experience. I mean come on people let's get real (and I mean real). I do hope some of you will enjoy this.
Chapter One: Dearly Beloved
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The funeral was today; all the banks and post offices were closed and all the flags were at half-mast. The TV reporters were talking about the end of an era, and mourners invaded the streets with their momentums of condolence when the motorcade made its way to the graveyard. The entire nation was submerged in somber shock and despair.
And Ayden Fenton was drunk. Really, really drunk.
His one and only goal for today is to not throw up on the President of the United States.
The President of the United States who was sitting across from him in the fancy limo talking away about things Ayden couldn't pretend to follow. Somewhere through the haze that was making up his entire mind he heard the well dressed formal man explaining how he has every confidence in him and that he looks forward to working closely with him. They all can't wait to see what he has to offer.
But at the moment the bile was churning in his throat. The walls were closing in and he felt like everything was spinning out of control.
Now Ayden has a new goal today, to not throw up on the President of the United States twice.
The cemetery was filled with all of his father's friends and some enemies as well. Almost all of them had a black patch on with a familiar white emblem gracing it. There were people he recognized and people he wasn't sure he'd ever met before. In the distance he could see Tucker Foley and his family, the traditional red beret substituted for a black one. His Aunt Jazz was there, she was one of the last remaining members of his blood family; his grand-parents were long dead and his own mother dead long before his father. Jazz looked rather well considering the occasion, he was almost certain he saw her estranged daughter, his cousin Sarah, with her too. Ayden considered a possible conversation with them at some point but that notion was immediately forgotten when he considered vomiting again.
Standing in a stark red dress he could see Valerie looking not miserable but apathetically content. She was not one to show her emotions though he was certain the woman was absolutely devastated by the loss of her friend whom she had fought beside for many years. Ayden looked around and realized he hadn't seen these people in at least three years. It would have been longer if a phone call hadn't drawn him out of his sanctuary at college and now, just a few credits shy of a bachelor's degree, he was stuck at a funeral and ultimately stuck at FentonWorks. He couldn't go back after this.
There was surprisingly more security than he imagined, he himself had a personal guard who was following him closely, though he highly doubted anything would be started here. Everyone respected his dad, even the people who dedicated most of their lives trying to destroy him and everything he ever loved.
"Dude is that Paulina Sanchez?" his guard and closest friend whispered while motioning in the direction of a slim older looking woman who somberly smoked a cigarette under a tree.
"Shut up Johnny," he snapped, mostly because he couldn't see the woman that his noticeably taller friend could. "This is a funeral not a fan club for some has-been-starlette."
In her twenties and thirties Paulina was a knock out and she graced numerous magazines, calendars, and posters fueling a lot of teenage boys' fantasies. She was the Ferra Faucet of his generation, though Ayden was sure by now she looked less attractive and more like any woman her age. Perhaps it was no loss to him whether or not he would see her now.
"Don't look now but General Baxter is coming over here," Johnny stated nudging his black haired friend in the ribs. Ayden visibly sighed and sent a sneer towards his blond friend who hardly made a professional body guard. In return he shot his blue eyed friend a smirk before standing at attention as Dash drew closer; it was Johnny's job to look and act professionally, as long as no one important was looking.
"Ah well if it isn't young Ayden," General Baxter greeted looking at the short scrawny young man. "How are you holding up on this tragic day kid?"
Ayden looked the older gentleman over and remembers him from his youth. He was the head of communications and headquarters and was the one who sent his father on all the missions. A long time ago General Baxter was just a pig-headed young man who haphazardly signed up for the military. Almost everyone thought he'd be placed as a front line man and be killed but he excelled greater than any one in the army and gained a respectable and high rank over in U.S. army. Somewhere along the way Dash and Danny reconciled their high school differences and Dash joined Team Phantom as a body guard and a military leader.
"Actually sir, I'm not really that young anymore," Ayden muttered quietly averting his eyes away to stare awkwardly at the ground.
The General nodded, "I guess you have grown up quite a bit since we've last met. Your father would be very proud of you, seeing as how you're going to carry on his work. Just think of all the bastards he cheated by having that heart attack. They would've given anything to be the one to off him," he said with a slight laugh. "But he showed them-"
"Yeah right," Ayden couldn't hold his tongue, "he showed them by dying. Great job dad, way to prove a point."
The aging General shifted his position. "I'm sorry, this is a tough day for you kid, I didn't mean..."
Johnny nudged Ayden in the ribs sharply giving him a signal that he wanted his friend to stop being such a disrespectful jackass towards the people who practically raised him. Ayden didn't think that he could do that; he couldn't even look at them without seeing something of his dad, and he knew they couldn't look at him without seeing a stupid kid.
"Look, I'll um see you at the reception. I have to go find my Aunt," he explained lightly while stumbling away. Johnny followed him closely behind taking note of the swagger in his steps, he was not holding his liquor very well.
Ayden saw his aunt in the distance but had no real intention of talking with her, he only lied to the General to get away. She saw him first though and it was too late for him to run away. So he stood still and watched while blinking furiously as the aging red head came forward and instantly wrapped him in a startling embrace. She sighed his name and he realized she was starting to sound old.
"Oh Ayden, you..." she pulled away and held his shoulders frowning, "you smell like booze," she stated looking dissatisfied with her realization.
He looked at her and tried searching her face for some sort of understanding, but he knew she didn't understand at all. But he was also aware that he didn't care that she was disappointed even if she helped raise him. Even though she acted as his stand-in=mother when his own died when he was just a little boy, no older than five, he still didn't care what she thought he didn't feel like he owed her anything. In fact he didn't think he owed anyone who helped raise him for that matter; that was their choice not his.
His father was a renowned man who had a big circle of friends and a circle of enemies, he worked for the country he was a scientist and the superhero that every one always wanted. And what was he, his son, his son who inherited his abilities but none of that sense of duty. He didn't want to be his dad, he didn't want to save the world or be a super scientist, he didn't want the name or any of the responsibility to go with it. As of right now the only thing he wanted was to drink. He wanted to drink a lot.
"Ayden, you've got to grow up sometime you're twenty two years old and now you've got a big pair of shoes to fill."
He glared in response he couldn't begin to count how many people in the past few days have told him he's suddenly inherited his father's life. He didn't understand what they were thinking, he didn't have to be his father just because the old man was dead now. "Y'know Aunt Jazz, I don't think I'm cut out to be a Fenton let alone a Phantom."
She gave him a look like he had actually hurt her, though he told himself that she was devastated by the fact that her little brother was dead more than the fact her ungrateful nephew was drunkenly disclaiming his own birthright. But that woman, though her looks were fading, her mind was still as sharp as a whip and she offered him a sort of wry smile. "You know Ayden, I think you should've come sober today, perhaps you'd have a different perspective on the reason why people around you are here."
Then she was gone but the buzzing in his skull wasn't and by god was it painful. Facing Johnny he reached into his coat and drew out a flask and took a few good swigs before anyone noticed him. The hard liquor burnt his throat but it did the job just fine just the way he liked it. Johnny shook his head and patted his old friend's shoulder. Ayden shook his muddled head and wanted nothing more than to go home and knew well that he couldn't.
Keeping his distance, Ayden tried his best to remain unnoticed and happily intoxicated throughout the remainder of the ceremony. Of course that would be asking too much. The minister urged him to come up and say a few words, and he found himself frozen trying to figure out how he was supposed to get from where he was standing all the way over to the podium. Getting drunk was perhaps not the best idea. Of course, he'd also had enough to drink that he mostly didn't care when he tripped over someone's feet or when racked himself on a giant arrangement of flowers on his way to said podium. He was way past embarrassment and was no longer familiar with humility.
Standing in front of the crowd, he hesitated; he knew he was going to have to give a speech, he even wrote one out. Well he started to, but it was in his other coat, and it was only five scratched out sentences anyway. At least he was drunk so he could cross giving a damn off his list of things to do today. Besides how could he possibly be anymore of an embarrassment to his dearly departed father now when he acted like one his entire life.
When he finally started to speak, he was pleasantly surprised to realize that his voice didn't slur or shake as much as he thought it would. He launched into an extemporaneous speech, and by the time he started actually listening to what he was saying it was far too late to take it back anyway. "My dad is dead," he said in a matter-of-fact way. "It's weird to say it, it doesn't seem real, even when you say it. Dead. Danny Fenton is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead."
Later all the headlines would read "Danny Fenton's Son Driven Mad By Grief" and "Is This Our New Hero?" and other stupid things like that but right now he's just talking. He's not being all refined and dignified like he knew he should be, he's just talking about his dead father to a crowd of people who didn't even really know him anyway.
"It sounds strange right? And it sucks...for you. All you people who built your lives around him, makes you look pretty stupid right about now. I guess you all thought he'd never let you down, that you'd all keep playing forever and ever. Like some chess game and you were all his pawns but the Universe still toppled your king anyway..." He vaguely wondered why he was discussing chess and was forgetting where he was going with the idea.
"Anyway...it's over. King me, or something, I don't know I never really liked chess anyway, my dad always liked to play it though. Said it was all about, I don't know, how things fall into place through strategy," he paused and realized he's rambling. "But my point..." His eyes droop and he felt suddenly exhausted and began wishing desperately for some sleep or for the world to stop from making him so damn dizzy with its constant spinning.
"The point" he shouted a little too loud, he gripped the edge of the podium to keep himself from toppling over, "is he always wins, except for now 'cause he's dead. So now you'll have to figure out what the hell you are without him and it's kinda obvious that most of you aren't anything without him. Bunch of losers trying to live out some weird-o hero fantasy like complete-"
Suddenly Johnny grabbed his arm and tugged him away and Ayden wheeled around and began trying to pull away. "I'm talking here!" he yelled. "The nerve of some people, and at a funeral! What the hell?" But everything was going slower than he remembered and it sort of dawned on him that he was horribly drunk.
Ayden stopped for a moment and began to wonder if he said any of that out loud and now he couldn't remember what he was talking about before he was interrupted. He figured he should just pick the next best thing that came to him and wrap it up with that. But Johnny had enough and forced him away from the podium and hustled him through the crowd of the shocked blurry faces. "Good luck getting lives, idiots." Ayden shouted while being muscled away and he wondered if anyone was still listening to him or if they even wanted to. As soon as they got away from the cusp of the crowd Ayden tripped and immediately went crashing to the ground.
"Ow." He grasped his slightly scuffed and bleeding arm but didn't actually feel the pain. "What the hell is your problem, man?"
When he turned over to glare at his friend he found the blond man looking down on him coldly. His face was shaded strangely against the pale gray sky and he was shaking his head while making a low "tsk-tsking" sound like he was some old lady; a really judgmental old lady. "You threw up on the President and gave your father the worst eulogy ever given in the history of eulogies, and all in one day. Are you trying to win jackass of the year or what?"
He sat up cradling his arm and scoured. "What are you, my mom?" he spat and rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's right, I don't have a mom."
"Look if you want to make a fool of yourself no one is going to stop you. But I'm trying to be a good friend here and believe me you don't make it easy," Johnny said slowly extending an arm to help his friend up.
"Just leave me alone."
Johnny wrinkled his nose. "Fine, its not like you need any protection anyway, and it's no skin off my nose if you don't want me to drag your drunk ass back to the limo."
"I can manage on my own. Thanks. I am an adult."
"That's debatable," he heard Johnny huff. Then the shadow he was casting disappeared and Ayden realized he's alone now.
He sat with his head down between his bent knees for a while staring at the strangely green grass all the while trying to forget he was in a cemetery. He was exhausted and trying to fight off the urge to disappear because he knew he could. He knew that even if he did he'd still be in the same place anyway. He always hated when people used that expression, disappearing never solved anything.
He got the feeling someone has just taken a seat beside him and half-expected it to be Johnny. "Hello, kiddo." But it was Tucker, or Uncle Tuck, never Mr. Foley.
Tucker was one of those guys that took care of him when he was a kid and was also a real technology wizard. He couldn't count how many times with Tucker around that he was saved from anyone that took him hostage. All the locators, the hyper-jets, and all the technology his father used in his ghost fighting and heroics almost always came from and were programed by Tucker. He also remembered playing with the Foley children, even though they didn't like him much, and Tucker reading him bed-time stories when his father was away on particularly diplomatic missions. Ayden was never allowed to be left alone when Danny was out of town and usually Tucker or Jazz took care of him and on rare occasions even Dash.
"Ayden," the young adult muttered stubbornly.
He always thought Tucker would make a better father than his own and had been jealous of the ordinary lives the Foley kids led. While he was being held captive and having his life held ransom Tucker's kids went to school and did all the regular student things. They only had drills for fires and explosions when he had to suffer through actual explosions on more than one occasion and more fire-based things then he could count. They had no idea how lucky they were and how kind their dad was for not exposing them to his life with Team Phantom.
"Sorry Ayden. I guess you're all grown up now and want to be treated like the adult you are."
"It's not a big deal, I'm just not partial to nicknames," he responded and looked at the older man.
They sat together in silence for a while which Ayden liked; it was a decidedly refreshing to not have to listen to another person tell him over and over how sorry they were, and how much they loved his dad, or how much they're counting on him to be just like Danny.
"Tough day, eh?" Tucker finally asked.
"You could say that."
"You don't have to talk about it, I can leave you know."
Ayden waved it off. "No, it's alright, you were always the one of the few people I trusted."
Tucker smiled and the wrinkles in his face creased with the action. Ayden briefly found himself wondering how he'll age and wondered if he'll even live long enough to see it for himself. Tucker couldn't seem to stop smiling as he wrapped an arm around Ayden. "So many memories, so many good times. I always thought of you as kind of a nephew Ayden."
"I did have a separate room at your house," he chuckled slightly and thought how nice it was to have someone actually talking to him. Someone who didn't think of him as just a lesser duplicate of his dad. Someone who expected him to be his own person and not be anything but who he was.
Tucker laughed with him. "You were always such a bright boy. I always knew you were headed for great things."
And why not? Ayden felt a warm smile creep onto his face and he straightened his postured confidently. This was exactly what he'd been dying to hear; what he needed to hear. He needed to be reminded that this doesn't have to be a disaster, that he doesn't have to be a disaster. After all he was Ayden Fenton, what kid didn't want to be him? Who's had more adventures and seen more action than him? Who else has super ghost abilities? Nobody, that's who.
Tucker patted him on the back and Ayden lost some of his new found balance. "You're a lot like him, you know."
"I-thanks, I appreciate that." He was surprised that he sincerely meant that he appreciated it. Whenever Tucker said things it didn't sound like mindless rhetoric, it always seemed more realistic, more truthful. So it meant something.
Finally Tucker reached into his pocket and handed him a strange looking gadget, much like a cell phone but with a video-screen. Ayden eyed it strangely and slightly recognized the model; his father might have had one he thought vaguely. It was a communicator, but this one wasn't a closed circuit one like he had when he was a kid. This meant any national leader, any U.S. military commander, any part of Team Phantom could reach him with distress signals at any time.
"You're gonna need this," he explained happily. "I redesigned your father's old one, this is more functional and has a built in locator so you wont need a separate one. It has all kinds of features and everything you'll need to be on top of things."
"Oh." His head suddenly felt heavier and his face felt hotter. He felt so stupid for ever thinking this was going to be any different.
The rage intensified as he stood up feeling as though he was about to explode. He was so stupid; so damn stupid to think that anyone would see him differently. That buzzing was back except now it was like an angry raging buzz. "I'd rather spend my life as a hermit than be everyone and their mother's go-to-guy," he snarled and tossed the gadget at Tucker's lap. "You're just like everyone else! You're nothing without my father!"
But Tucker didn't react he just watched him with this annoyingly infuriating bemused pity and Ayden could hardly hold back his puke. He tried to make a poignantly angry exit but instead tripped over his feet and fell. He thought he heard Tucker laughing but couldn't tell over the incessant buzzing in his skull. "You might as well have died with him for all the use you are with out him! Everyone needs to get it through their God damn heads, he's not coming back!"
As soon as he got his feet on the ground again he began to run, it was a clumsy stumbling run but it was going to get him far enough away from all the noise. He couldn't follow his own feet and had no idea where he was going and why he was trying to get there. He tripped over flowers and slammed through people but he forgot how to care. He fell again, this time near the edge of the cemetery where he could see the open grave and the people still surrounding it, all of them looking so small. He was screaming at the top of his lungs but not at Tucker, and not at anyone else, just his dad.
"You were never a good father, you couldn't even be there! You were always expecting me to be something I'm not! I'm not even sorry you're gone!" But it was all a lie. The truth was as long as his dad was alive, being his dad, he had a chance to be something else. Something different, he hadn't figured out just what that was, but he knew now he never would.
"Why couldn't you just wait? Until I knew what...until I knew who..."
For a moment it was deathly quiet and then the light drizzle slowly turned to heavy rain. Ayden wasn't sure if he was crying or not but he was thinking of his dad. Ayden remembered all the times his father held him close doting over him when he was too close to death, showing him how to "go-ghost", and all those strange lessons and interactions with the paranormal. He remembered the man being the only parent he ever had and how well he tried to fill the gaps in his son's life.
Danny Fenton had been the man everyone looked to in desperate times. Now people were looking at Ayden to guide them, he was supposed to be their hero now. He had to be the leader and he was supposed to set a good example just like his dad. This identity was his now whether he wanted it or not and he couldn't hide it anymore because there was nowhere left to hide. When his dad was around he didn't have to be the half-ghost hero because there was already one but now he was the only one; there was no one else people could turn to, there was only Ayden.
He knew he would never be half the man his father was, he wasn't brave or strong. He didn't have the ability to stand up and fight and think quick in desperate situations like his dad. He didn't even understand the concept of dying for others and knew it'd only be a disgrace to try and be like his dad. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't even close.
Finally he felt a strong pull under his arms as security helped him up, Johnny was there saying things to calm him, and he saw the crowd had gathered near him to see the manic spectacle he'd made of himself. They were far away from the coffin, away from the man they were here to mourn because his son went and made a damn fool of himself. Now he had finally out shined his father and he wasn't happy.
They were taking him back to the limo and he squinted against all flash bulbs popping and he realized he probably looked like a train wreck. He was enveloped with a sinking feeling because he knew the pictures would spread, and all the kids on campus would see them with the rest of the nation, and he can say goodbye to what little favorable reputation he had left. And of course any chance he ever had of sleeping with anyone. Ever. Everyone will remember how he hysterical he was, how insane he appeared, and how much of a stupid kid he really is.
But right now he wasn't worried about it because he's still drunk. Really, really, drunk. So drunk that if he sat quietly his vision would turn gray around the edges and close in until was black. Until he's not Ayden Fenton, or Ayden Phantom, or even Danny Fenton's son. Until he's not anything at all anymore. While on the brink of unconsciousness a happy thought lingered just before he slipped under.
Thank God for booze.
If you didn't read it before it was a oneshot previously but I really liked the idea of Danny's son of trying to reject his entire identity and then suddenly having to take on all the responsibilties his father left behind. Also a happy note you will be seeing Danny here in there in this story but he won't be like Hamlet's father, none of this ghost dad visiting grieving son. Anywho hold on tight kids this is gonna be a bumpy ride!