Chapter Three: Closely Improbable

Danny

A fourteen-year-old boy with black hair and closed, ice-blue eyes thrashed about on his bed, twitching and mumbling. One of his pant legs rode up and so did his red and white shirt, revealing scars both fresh and old alike. He was even still wearing his beaten-up sneakers, which had scorch marks furiously rubbed out with just about every cleaning substance in the Fenton household. The thrashing and mumbling increased, until they became complete words:

"NO. I won't. I WON'T. I won't let it happen! You're not me!"

Suddenly, Danny Fenton sat up on his bed and shrieked.

He had known it would happen, anticipated it, but no one can really prevent themselves from waking up screaming. Everything was still so vivid, even months afterwards.

The blood, bodies everywhere, rubble. Smell of smoke.

"Don't you get it? I'm still here, I still exist! That means you still turn into me!"

Watching, entirely helpless, as everything he knew and cared about blew up.

It was going to haunt him for the rest of his life, he knew. But it didn't make waking up any easier.

Calm down, Danny. It's over, you're safe, and he's still locked up in the Thermos. Everything is fine. Everything will stay fine, as long as you calm down and get a hold of yourself.

Danny's previously erratic breathing evened, and his heart rate slowed just in time to speed up when his bedroom door opened. His mother's head popped in, teal eyes concerned. "The nightmare again?" By the softness in her voice, he knew he must look like a wreck, hair ruffled and sticking out, clothes askew, knees pulled up to his chest.

Danny nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Wanna talk abut it?"

His head shook vigorously.

"Ok then." She looked at his clock. "Well, it's about an hour until the bus gets here, you might as well get up and start getting ready." She turned to leave, and then glanced back. "Oh, and why did you go to bed in your clothes, honey?"

Danny looked down at his body, which was indeed clothed in his normal day attire, and lied quickly: "I must've fallen asleep doing my homework."

She swallowed it easier than usual. Probably still thinking about last night. She just nodded and left.

Sighing deeply, Danny swung his legs over to sit at his bed's edge and removed his shirt to assess the damage. Some of the nastier bruises were still there, but most had faded along with almost all of the scrapes and cuts. He set his left leg down and experimentally placed a bit of weight on it. He winced. It was still a bit sore and stiff, but far less so than it had been. It seemed that almost all of his wounds had been lessened or healed completely overnight with the exception of a deep cut on his shoulder made by one of Skulker's newer weapons. It had completely resisted his accelerated healing rate. It was even still seeping a disturbing amount of his red-green blood. Wonderful. A new reason to avoid Skulker.

Pulling his first-aid kit from under the bed, he disinfected the gash and dressed it with some gauze. Then he examined his clothes with dismay. His mom must have been very distracted to have not noticed the bloodstains. He shoved it and his newly removed pants under the bed with the first-aid, grabbed a towel, and headed off to the shower.

Danny quite liked showers, despite the stereotype that males in general feared soap. However, he didn't appreciate them for the chance to get clean even though it was a necessity with all the wounds he got daily. Rather, he enjoyed the fact that with the exception of the occasional ghost, who dearly regretted it afterwards, he was never interrupted and had some definite alone-time to think.

Mom seems really distracted today. Normally she's so observant that I'd swear she already knew I'm Phantom and just acted clueless for her entertainment, but today she swallowed a lie head-first and ignored the fact I was wearing bloodstained clothes.

Well, I did give her some stuff to think about last night. What in the hell was I thinking when I said I owed them a favor?! With my luck they'll ask Danny 'Phantom' to track down and save Danny 'Fenton'. Either that or Dad'll ask me to steal the fudge from Mom's safe… He chuckled at the thought.

Then he grew somber and considered the underlying effects of the night's actions. They know more now, at least in that they know that I'm different from other ghosts. And if I know my parents at all, I know that they're tenacious. They'll want to know what's so different about me and that'll lead them to me being half-ghost… which will make them to wonder who my human-half is. And I told them exactly where to go to find dirt on me. Letting them know that I'm not quite welcome in the Ghost Zone was just plain stupid.

After a few more moments of self-berating thought and washing, Danny exited the shower. Dressing himself in clothes eerily like what he wore yesterday minus the dirtiness, he went downstairs to the kitchen to help himself to a rarity in his life: breakfast. Mom and Jazz were already seated, the first with a steaming mug of coffee that he was envious of and the other absentmindedly nibbling on a plain bagel while reading a psychology book. They looked up, Mom with a smile and Jazz with a frown. It was the natural order of the house that the women were early-risers whilst the men slept till ten o'clock on a good day. Danny being awake at six was a bit like watching Dash Baxter willingly study. It never happened, until today that is.

"Danny, what are you doing up?" Jazz's voice was tentative, as if a single misplaced word would send him flying.

Danny replied gruffly, "Had that nightmare again and couldn't go back to sleep." Jazz nodded, and after watching him like an interesting and new type of crazy person, she went back to her book. Then she looked up again as he had started foraging for cereal. A look had crossed her face. "Which nightmare again?"

He looked at her skeptically. "You didn't hear me screaming my head off?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, that nightmare."

He just glared. "So, you didn't hear me?"

Jazz shook her head.

"I swear, you people are deaf." Danny remarked with an eye-roll, and then continued his search for non-ghostly food.

Having eaten and with thirty minutes until the bus came, Danny attempted to cobble together his homework. It was messy, wrong, and somehow, he didn't know how, it had gotten a glob of ectoplasm on it. He'd get a –D at the very most, if Mr. Lancer was feeling charitable, but a crappy homework assignment was better than none.

He headed out the door just in time to get on board the bus. The driver demanded to see his bus pass and actually called up the school to confirm that he was listed, as Danny had only ridden the bus the first week of school before the accident. He sat down next to Tucker, who looked up from his PDA and stared at him like was Elvis reincarnated.

"Danny?" Tucker said, voice filled with disbelief, "Is… is that you?"

Danny smiled a little. "The one and only."

"You're actually up? How? I thought it was physically impossible for you to be awake by seven."

"Nightmare. Anyways, I have something to tell you, and Sam when we see her-"

"Oh, yeah that second round with Skulker! How'd it got?"

He winced. "Alright. He's in the Thermos. Just… don't pat me on my right shoulder. I don't know what it was but he's got a new weapon that hurts bad and the cut won't heal. Anyways, that's not what I had to tell you…"

By the time Danny had stopped explaining the whole capture-release drama of last night, they had arrived at school and met up with Sam which meant he had to start all over. He'd only gotten halfway through that one (to the part with Danny stuck in the Thermos) when the bell rang. Sam was looking reasonably upset so Tucker promised to text her the rest in-class.

Three periods later, Danny got a text. After a few moments of translating, it came out to mean:

What were you thinking?!

Danny grimaced. Great. Just what I need: A pissed-off Sam. He texted back.

What part are you upset about?

You let yourself get cornered for one!

I didn't let myself get cornered.

You should of ducked out when your parents found you!

I was tired, Sam. Tired people don't think straight.

You shouldn't have been out when you hadn't had sleep all day!

Now Danny was starting to get annoyed. Who else was going to help-

Mr. Tomas, his fourth period science teacher, cleared his throat. "Mr. Fenton, if I see your cell phone out in my class again I will have to confiscate it."

Danny looked up to see the teacher and his entire class staring at him. Blushing like crazy, he nodded and put the cell phone away. Sam'll just have to wait to chew me out.

When the bell rang, Danny ran out like Spectra having a bad hair day was behind him. It was lunch next and although he would like to eat, this was also Dash's favorite time to pound him. He'd managed to avoid him in the morning, but Danny had this weird little feeling-

"Fenturd!"

Crap.

Random kids who had been on their way to lunch suddenly stopped and gathered around him, clogging the hallway. Sam and Tucker were among him, Sam with an annoyed look and Tucker with an apologetic smile. Danny glared at them, mouthing Help me but neither moved. Before he could even say anything, he found himself suspended mid-air by his collar. And, unsurprisingly, he was face-to-face with Dash Baxter, star quarterback and self-appointed torturer of Danny Fenton.

"We had a test in History today, Fentoad. And guess what I got?"

"An A?" Danny said nervously.

"Wrong!" He was thrust harshly against the lockers. A slightly wet feeling spread down his shoulder. "I got an F. And I'm blam-"Dash paused, and his grip loosened on his shirt. "Are-are you bleeding?"

Danny looked him right in the eyes, willing himself to look nonchalant. "No."

After a moment, Dash smiled. "Good. I don't wanna mark you up, that could get me in trouble. Now, what do you want to do today? Stuff you in your locker? String you up on the flagpole? I'm feeling generous today, Dan, so make your pick."

Danny stiffened. "What did you just call me?" He did not just call me that. He did not call me by his name. Memories flashed trough his head faster than the speed of light, and Danny got tenser with each one. Especially one in particular:

"The name's Dan. Dan Phantom. I'm the one who destroys everything."

Had Danny been listening, he would have heard a Tucker-like voice groan. "Oh shit."

Dash

A large, burly fourteen-year-old with blonde hair and dark blue-grey eyes was sitting in a desk in a classroom. But rather than pay attention to the teacher who was droning on about some old people and wars, Dash Baxter was staring at the paper he'd just been given back. It had a big, glossy, red F on it.

I can't believe this! Another F? Dad's gonna kill me…

Dash was not having a good day. He was tardy for class, got a stain on his letterman jacket, Paulina dumped him over the phone last night, and now he had an F on his History test.

Why does my life suck? It shouldn't suck! This is supposed to be the best four years of my life!

Dash was first out the door when the bell rang. Feeling a serious urge to wail on somebody, he scanned the room for the raven-haired twerp that was his personal punching bag. He was unsuccessful and was about to give up until he saw Danny Fenton running towards the cafeteria. Grinning, Dash yelled, "Fenturd!"

Said geek stopped in his tracks. All the kids around them gathered in a circle and closed them in. Fenton looked to his nerdy friends, the Goth chick and the PDA-bearing freak, but they didn't help. Dash grabbed the little oddball by his collar and lifted him up in the air. "We had a test in History today, Fentoad. And guess what I got?"

Fenton just blinked at his removal from the floor and said nervously, "An A?"

"Wrong!" Dash shoved him into the lockers. "I got an F. And I'm blam-" He paused. His eyes glanced over to the freak's shoulder, which was starting bleed. "Are-are you bleeding?" Crap. If he starts bleeding, I'll get in trouble.

But Fenton just looked at him. "No." Dash could tell he was lying, but he could also see that the weirdo didn't care.

I can't push him to far today. I have to be careful. He plastered a grin on his face. "Good. I don't wanna mark you up, that could get me in trouble. Now, what do you want to do today? Stuff you in your locker? String you up on the flagpole? I'm feeling generous today, Dan, so make your pick."

Dash was careful. He even made sure not to call him a name. But he knew he must of done something wrong, because Danny tensed. His voice was cold, almost ice-like, and so were his eyes. "What did you just call me?"

Dash heard, somewhere in the crowd, the Foley twerp say: "Oh shit."

Not knowing what else to do, he answered "I called you Dan. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Yes. There. Is."

Before Dash could move or do anything, he found himself with his back against the wall and Danny's hand was pinning him down by the shoulder. It didn't take him long to concur with the tech-geek. 'Oh shit' was a good way of describing the situation. The Danny that had him pinned was not the Danny he knew. He was surprisingly strong, strong enough that Dash knew he'd have bruises tomorrow.. His face was contorted in rage, and his eyes were murderously green. Wait, green? Fenton's eyes aren't green…

His captor's icy vice interrupted his thoughts. "You will not call me that even again, got it Dash? Or do I need to pound it into your thick skull?"

Dash just nodded. This Danny couldn't be argued with, couldn't be disagreed with. Because this Danny was strong, and scary, and had green eyes even though his were supposed to be blue.

This Danny could and probably would crush his windpipe without a second thought.

Just as the morbid thought of dying at Fenton's hands passed through his brain, he was released. The frighteningly green eyes became blue again. Fenton turned and walked away, the crowd giving him a wide berth.

Dash just sank to the ground, rubbing his already-sore shoulder.

What in the hell just happened?