It wasn't even a few days into his weeklong suspension from school before Danny was prowling around his house like an angry jungle cat and growling up a storm along the way. He was pissed off and restless and angry and irritated and restless and anxious about something but he didn't know what.

The ache in his chest had grown significantly larger and deeper and more painful.

He couldn't deny what it was probably about anymore, either. He hadn't seen Vlad in days and he was getting desperate. He'd nearly broken his hand punching the wall when he'd finally let the revelation hit, finally admitted the truth, until his hand stitched itself up with a faint green glow. There wasn't a mark left on his hand, but his wall had still suffered.

He just wanted to know why it was there. What was causing it? What had triggered it in the first place? Was there any way to make it stop completely? Would he have to live with this constant pain for the rest of his life? What was happening inside his body? He wanted answers. He wanted answers that made sense. Not vague guesses that freaked him out on a level he wouldn't admit. (Because who wouldn't be freaked out at the thought that the biggest asshole they'd ever met might somehow be the key to making the pain go away?)

He was afraid, too, deep down. Afraid that it wouldn't ever go away. Afraid that it would. Afraid that it would disappear just as suddenly as it appeared and then he'd be forced to deal with the aftermath of it all. Of the trouble it'd gotten him into. Of the noxious cocktail of emotions it caused that he didn't even dare to look at. Because without it he wouldn't have an excuse to get close to Vlad anymore. Not without admitting things he never wanted to face.

"Daniel James Fenton." His mother's sharp reprimand from inside the kitchen caused him to spin around from his position on the stairs. She sounded pissed beyond belief and he really, really hoped it was because of anything but him. He also wondered how she'd even known it was him. "I need to speak with you."

Danny cursed under his breath; no such luck. He'd already had the talk and the grounding and the punishment for the suspension. ("We're very disappointed in you, son." "You'll be grounded for the rest of the school year, no ifs, ands, or buts." "We're taking away everything, your games, your car, your tv. The only thing you'll have time for is studying.") So what in the world could this be about? All he wanted to do was sulk in some void in the Ghost Zone and hope that might somehow ease the searing burn under his ribs.

"Coming," he called back nervously. He did not want to face the wrath of his mother, especially when she'd pulled the full name thing, and even more especially because he didn't know what he did in the first place (leaving him blind and defenseless against any and all accusations).

When he entered the kitchen, the neutral battleground, she had one hand on her hip and a sharp look in her eye. The hood to her hazmat suit was off and she already had a cup of coffee in her other hand, both of which meant serious business. It was a look she wore often, when she caught him coming back home after curfew.

"Mom?" he questioned as he inched further into the room, choosing to stand behind one of the wooden chairs at the table for a quick getaway should he need it.

"I just had a talk with Mrs. Masters," she started and Danny nearly ripped the chair under his hands apart.

"You what?!" he shouted, "Mom-!"

"You and her son have been fighting!" she snapped with a finger pointed towards him in accusation. "Daniel James I thought I taught you better than that! What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

"He's the one that starts it!" Danny snapped back, the pain in his chest making him testier than he usually dared to be in a moment like this.

"Well, you're going to finish it!" she hissed, "I'm taking you over to their house this afternoon and you are going to apologize to him whether you want to or not."

"What?!" Danny snarled, his hands squeezing the wood of the chair just a bit too tightly, he could feel an inexcusable amount of rage boiling up within him. If he wasn't careful his eyes might start to glow. "No! He doesn't deserve an apology! He's a pompous asswipe and I won't say sorry to him even if it kills me!"

"Daniel James!" she cut through his tirade sharply, "That is no way to speak to your mother and you will go up to that boy and make amends and it will not kill you to do so. I don't care why you're fighting with that boy or who started what. You're gonna to play nice with him and you're gonna like it. Or so help me Danny I will ground you for the rest of your life."

Danny was still angry, still frustrated and furious beyond belief for no apparent reason, but he also valued what was left of his half-life so he looked away from his mother and mumbled a bitter, "Fine." Before releasing his strangling grip on the chair and storming up the stairs to his room. His mother could come get him when she wanted to leave.

It was only a few hours later that he realized going to see Vlad and being in the same vicinity as him might help the ache somehow. The thought only made him angrier and even more anxious.

Fuck everything.