Going to keep this short because it's 4 am and I'm tired. Replies will happen next chapter.

Slight gore warning.


Paulina stood still in the door way, a line of smoke billowing upwards from the mouth of the gun. Slowly, she inched towards where Phantom had collapsed. She put the gun down on the bathroom counter. Something that struck her in an odd way was how tangible he was beginning to look. He didn't look at ghostly as he usually in did. In fact, she could even go as far as to say she could see beads of sweat rolling down his back.

"What the...?" she mused to herself, crouching down text to him. Not very gently, she turned him over on his back. The corner of his lip curling upwards being the only sign of his discomfort. Tenderly, Paulina pushed back pieces of his bangs that were stuck to his forehead.

Oh, how she hated to hurt him. She truly did. What she hated even more though, was seeing him blinded by his ignorance and cold-stone heart. Years of being a ghost had hardened him. He could not feel—or rather, understand—love, she reasoned. Even worse, he was almost as stubborn as she was. How was she going to make him realize he loved her without breaking every bone in his metaphysical body?

Once, long long ago, when she was about six or so, she'd had a crush on one of the boys in her first grade class. She hadn't known what her feelings were at the time, she just knew that she wanted his attention. No matter what she did, no matter how pretty her art was, no matter how much she asked to play tag with him, no matter how many of her sandwiches she let him have a bite of, he wouldn't notice her. Then, one day, out of the blue, he fell off the slide and twisted his ankle. She'd been the only one around at the time and had helped him up and hobbled with him to the nurse's office. He mumbled thank's to her the entire way.

Soon after, he went back to ignoring her. She'd push him off the swings sometimes, just so he'd need her again. It was odd, she mused, how physical pain could bring two people together. Beautiful in a way. Right now, Phantom needed her, and she wasn't going to deny him her love and attention. Hooking her hands under his shoulders, she began dragging him back into the room.

She flopped Danny up on the bed with a grunt. The path from the bathroom to the bed had left her exhausted. For a ghost, Phantom was a lot heavier than he looked. Her lips pursed when she noticed the trail of ectoplasm his body had left behind.

She'd have to call Dash to help her clean up. That thought didn't please her. She went into the bathroom and grabbed a damp wash cloth and hurried back to his bedside. With shaky hands she rubbed the damp cloth on his face and on his arms and chest, applying more pressure where the bullet wounds were in order to scrub off the ectoplasm. The deep crater-like wounds in his shoulder and calf were completely coated with the green substance that continued to pool out little by little. Her eyebrows crinkled. Why wasn't he healing?

Her brow wrinkled even more when she realized the water had evaporated almost immediately once it came in contact with his skin. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand and frowned when she realized he felt hotter than was normal for even human standards.

Was it possible for a ghost to get sick?

She grabbed the bag of clothes that she'd brought home with her earlier in the day and picked out a black t-shirt and some red basketball shorts. She slipped the t-shirt over his head and tried as best as she could to get the shorts on him. Once he was dressed, she began the meticulous task of re-securing his hands to the headboard with the chains. When she was done, she stepped back to admire her handy work.

Still, there was the problem of why he wasn't healing. She'd seen him get hit by a hunter's ectogun on plenty of occasions. He'd returned the next day seemingly unharmed. Whatever the reason was, Phantom probably knew it. Maybe there was a medicine he had to take in order to combat the effects of the ectoblasts?

"Phamtom," she whispered softly in an attempt to wake him up. He didn't stir. "Phantom!"

Still no response. Frustrated, she slapped him across the cheek a couple times. His head lolled around. "Phantom, get up!"

She thrust the nail of her index finger into his shoulder wound, smiling in triumph when he jolted up suddenly. He blinked blearily around the room, gauging his location.

"Why aren't you healing, Phantom? Do you need aspirin or something? I think you have a fever."

Danny opened and closed his mouth a couple times, feeling it dry and chapped again. His head also felt like it was being drilled by a jackhammer. Paulina was right. This definitely wasn't normal.

"Wha-huh did you shoot me wiff?" he mumbled, his headache and fatigue making it hard to concentrate. Paulina had to strain to hear.

"Uhhhh," she looked around for the gun, and then remembering the bathroom counter, went to go retrieve it.

"With this." She held it out for him to see.

It definitely belonged to his parents, but he didn't recognize it as one of their inventions. It had to have been new.

"The gun doesn't have any ectoplasm purification filters on the outside. Almost all anti-ghost weapons have that feature. As the name implies, they purify and entity's ectoplasm and allow a rechargeable amount of ectoplasm to be used against any ghost. The gun you have there looks like a regular .44 revolver."

Paulina looked puzzled. "How do you know all that stuff?"

"Comes with the job."

"Okay..." she said, trailing off. "What now?"

"The gun probably uses actual bullets instead of ectoplasm. Can you take out the bullets for me to examine?"

"Alright!" she chirped. "How?"

He pointed out the parts to her and after a bit of difficulty and error, she managed to dismantle the gun. She held out the bullets for Phantom to see. They looked like any other bullet, but glowed green.

"Anti-ghost bullets," he mused more to himself than Paulina. "Never heard of that before. They must have pure ectoplasmic cores. No wonder I'm reacting so negatively."

"Sorry, I didn't know," said Paulina, sounding like she was more apologetic for the burden she was inflicting upon herself rather than the pain she was causing him.

"I don't seem to have any exit wounds. Unless I can remove the bullets from my body, the infection will spread. The outcome won't be good for me."

Paulina shifted uncomfortably. He wanted her to remove the chains again, he meant to say. She wasn't about to take that chance.

"Well, can't you just go intangible and have the bullets drop out or something?"

"If they were regular bullets, yes. Since these are anti-ghost, it won't work. Besides, I can't go intangible with these chains on, can I?"

Paulina's face suddenly seemed to harden. "Then I'll do it."

"You'll do what?"

"I'll help take out the bullets."

Danny paled and his jaw dropped slightly. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

She glared daggers at him. "Don't think I can do it?"

Danny chuckled dryly. "Honestly? No. I don't. If anything, you'll mess me up even more. Because that's all you seem to be able to do."

Her hand twitched with the need to slap him. "You ungrateful bastard," her voice was dangerously calm. "After all I've done for you? I bring you into my home, into my heart. I feed you, I tend to you, I care for you, I provide for you, and love you unconditionally. What more could you want from me? My heart on a platter?"

Her gaze softened. Phantom was glaring at her like he glared at his enemies in the heat of battle. It was that resolve that she had first made her fall for him. He was a knight, a hero, a warrior—and he was wounded in more ways than she could count. He was faced with enemies and monsters that constantly wanted to destroy him, of course he wouldn't realize that she loved him when hate was all he faced from a day to day basis. Scolding him would get her nowhere. She had to prove that she earnestly cared about him.

"Oh, my Phantom darling dear," she swooned softly. "I'll make you all better, just watch and see. Don't be scared."

She cupped his face in her hand and caressed his cheek with her thumb, not bothered in the least when he flinched away. Then she set out to find a pair of tweezers. She wasn't about to let a measly ol' infection claim her Phantom when he already belonged to her.


The truth of the matter was (even if Jazz didn't want to admit it), she had no leads. The security tape had lead her to a dead end. She racked her brain for a list of all the people she knew who'd have a white van, none came up. Time and time again, it was the same. If only the security camera had been angled a bit higher so that it captured the ghost fight. Whoever Danny had been fighting that day probably knew of his whereabouts.

Then again, at least that cleared up one fact. It couldn't have been hunters that captured Danny. They wouldn't have taken Danny and left the other ghost roaming free. It had to have been someone who had a specific interest in Phantom. The GIW, maybe, although it felt unlikely. The arm that had flashed on screen didn't look like it had been wearing the GIW uniform.

That only left the Red Huntress, which didn't feel likely either. She'd told her parents that Danny had gone on a camping trip with a group of boys from school, but who knew how long that excuse would last.

Jazz looked up suddenly when she heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs to her room. Jack opened the door and peaked inside.

"Jazzums, you wouldn't happen to know where the Fenton Magnum is, would you?"

Jazz sighed dryly. Another one of her dad's newest inventions gone missing.

"No, dad. You sure you didn't just misplace it again?"

Jack paused for a moment, seeming puzzled. He scratched the back of his head.

"No, no, I'm sure I put it on the lab table." He deflated like a balloon. "There goes another one. And I really liked the Fenton Magnum, too."

The door shut with an audible click.

Now that she kind of thought on it, it was odd how these inventions were suddenly going missing. What he father lacked in organization abilities, her mother made up for 110% percent. The first gadget had vanished into thin air about 3-4 days ago, around the time Danny had disappeared. She remembered it crystal clear. Danny had been rushing around the house, pop-tart in mouth and hopping on one leg trying to tie his shoe lace. He was going to be late again. She'd been waiting by the doorway for him to finish up. Her mother had come up the stars of the lab, asking if they'd seen their Fenton Anti-Spook Net anywhere, and had shrugged it off when informed that they hadn't. Next, it'd been the anti-ghost chains. Now, the Fenton Magnum.

Jazz traced a pattern on her knee absentmindedly in thought. In fact, she could have sworn she'd seen a ghost catching net on the security tape. If that net was the same one that her parents had lost, it meant whoever Danny's captor was had been in their home. And in most cases, unless they were a ghost, had been let in voluntarily. That thought made a chill run through Jazz's spine.


When Paulina returned a moment later, the sheet under Phantom had been soaked green with ectoplasm. Her eyes began to water at the strong scent of the green goo—a musty, acidic, rotten-egg smelling substance. There was something else there, something more coppery. Paulina set the tweezers down by the nightstand and examined Phantom a bit more closely. She rolled up the sleeve of his shirt first and took a look at his shoulder. The bullet had been angled up, and had consequently grazed one half of his chest, leaving 4-inch gash. The spot where it had entered was already beginning to close over despite not showing any signs of internal healing, considering how the wound was still pooling with ectoplasm. His calf didn't look like it was fairing too well either. Here, it had been a direct shot. The hole was deeper, the skin trying unsuccessfully to heal over the bullet. It rose like the crater of a volcano and folded in on itself.

"Guess I better get started on these then," said Paulina, not wanting to admit how truly grossed out she was. For Phantom, she reminded herself. Only for Phantom.

Danny hadn't been sleeping, just resting. When he opened his eyes, the silhouette of Paulina against the setting sun reminded him of his sister. Of when she'd stay up past her bed-time to read story books to him because Mom and Dad were too busy in the lab. He purred contently.

"That's right, Phantom. I'll fix you up all good and dandy. You don't have to be the hero anymore! How nice is that?"

Paulina's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked up at her, suddenly feeling very grounded and claustrophobic.

"It'd be even better if you let me go."

"Not happening," she said happily, dampening some toilet paper with whiskey. Her actions went unnoticed as he stared right passed her. He couldn't believe it. He, Danny Phantom, enemy of all ghosts, defeater of Pariah Dark, was going to die at the hands of a teenage girl.

Paulina placed the soaked tissue on his shoulder. He hissed in response, being used to far worse pain. Using the tweezers, she pushed the tissue directly into the wound and pressed down.

"Hm," she mused. "That's weird. I still can't see anything. Do you think it needs more alcohol?"

Danny didn't respond, to wrapped up in his own pain to even register that Paulina was talking.

"It'd be dangerous to dig around for the bullet without a clear sight of it, so I'll just add a little more..."

She grabbed the bottle of whiskey—a cheap one from her dad's "secret" stash—and dumped it directly onto the wound. Danny's eyes flew opened and he inhaled sharply, feeling like the alcohol was pooling acid into the wound.

"Y-you're not helping, Paulina. Please just leave this to someone who knows what the hell they're doing," he panted through lidded eyes.

"Of course I'm helping! Look, it's all clear of ectogunk now. You just shut your trap," Paulina grabbed the alcohol and ectoplasm soaked tissue and stuffed it into his mouth.

Using her thumb and index finger, she pried the wound opened further, revealing the torn muscle and ligament underneath. Danny squirmed under her touch, hands squeezed into knuckle-white fists.

"That's so cool. It's like, you're a ghost, but you have everything a human has," she said with amazement. Then she frowned. "At least, I think you do. This thing right here doesn't look right." She poked at a piece of his flesh with the tweezers.

Danny was, in every sense of the word, exhausted. His body would not react despite the immeasurable pain. He resolved to bite down and bare it, feeling the ectoplasm flavored whiskey burn trails down his throat.

"Whatever, it's not like I actually passed anatomy."

Wiping some caked ectoplasm off of the tweezers on the bed-sheets, she poised them over the wound.

Phantom's eyes looked like two green saucers as he blinked at Paulina.

"Paurinah-" he said in a muffled voice. "Paurinah, puhrease dontah."

There was no point in bargaining, she already had her mind set. He doubted she was even listening. Danny wasn't prepared when she dug the sharp tip of the tweezers straight down into wound and started wiggling it around. She opened and closed the mouth of the utensil blindly, hoping to chance on the bullet. The crater in his shoulder began bleeding profusely again and tears stung the corners of his eyes. Whether from pain or the acidity of his own ectoplasm, he couldn't tell.

Distraught that she wasn't chancing on anything, Paulina dug even farther, forgetting that the bullet was probably higher up in his shoulder due to the angle which it had entered. Her tongue stuck out in concentration, and every now and then she'd wipe away the excess ectoplasm with a damp whiskey-soaked tissue.

His muscles tensed and relaxed with every flick of her wrist. The sound of her digging around inside him became one of the worst memories of his life—a suction sound where his flesh would wrap around the metal and then be pulled apart again, the bubbling of his ectoplasm and blood as they seeped out from between the torn, smashed, and pummeled muscle, sounding like some odd alien. It even pulsed as if it were alive.

"Think happy thoughts," he chanted in his mind. "Think happy thoughts."

Danny closed his eyes, pictures of Sam and puppies and video games and greasy burgers calming him if only for the moment.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she chanced upon something hard. Switching the tweezers from her right hand to her left, she began scraping until she was sure that it wasn't another muscle group. She grasped the small, hard object in between the tweezers and pulled. It didn't budge, so she opted to dig in and grab it herself. The tweezers had created an easy path for her fingers to find the object. Grasping the bullet this time between her two fingers, she yanked. Hard.

The strangled cry that escaped Danny was a few octaves short of a Ghostly Wale.

"Weird," said Paulina, turning the bullet around in her bloody hand to examine it. "Doesn't look much like a bullet...one down, one to go."