"It's over, Fenton."
It was disappointing, really. Those were kind of the last words he was expecting- and he'd hoped beyond reason that the last earthly thing he'd hear would be something different. Something to mark his exit from this world with a little more dignity, grandness. Something to say that he'd been more than just a fleeting thought on the edge of the universe.
But then again, as he dazedly watched the redness pool around his hand and stain his shirt, he had to give credit where it was due. The line was certainly was appropriate.
It was, indeed, over.
"Tell me again why we signed up for this?"
The sun was shining a bit too brightly for Sam that morning, beating down on Historic Olde Amity Town with ferocity that made the trio feel as if they had actually been transported back to frontier America; the illusion was made all the more credible by the fact that none of the buildings there- not even the gift shop- had air conditioning. Maybe at the water park or the shore Tucker would have had a quip ready for his friend, but today he was fanning himself with his brochure as they milled around, waiting for the teachers to get everything organized.
"Because Lancer said we'd get fifteen points of extra credit if we came?" He supplied, sincerely trying to help. It didn't appease Sam, who drew her black and purple wide-brimmed hat closer to her face in an effort to keep the light out.
"Since when do you care about stuff like that?" She shot back, only a little disappointed when Tucker, instead of rising to the bait of her ire, shrugged and said nothing. Danny rolled his eyes.
"If I wasn't on the verge of failing, I'd agree with Sam," he added.
The other two were too sluggish in the heat to comment, though Sam's eyes did light up as she suggested- "Hey, any chance we could sneak around the back of one of these buildings and take advantage of your ice powers?"
Tucker perked up at that, opening his mouth to chime in with his two cents before Danny shot them his most withering glare. "I'm not an air conditioner."
"Yeah but you are a hero," Sam goaded, grinning, "Aren't you supposed to help people in danger?"
"What are you in danger of?"
"Heat stroke."
"So take off the cape-!"
"Alright students," Lancer's voice cut through the scattered conversations, commanding as much attention as he'd ever get outside of the classroom. Distracted from his private argument, Danny's eyes found the back of Valerie's head. He would have gone over to her to apologize, but for two days he had received nothing but icy death-stares that had done nothing to alleviate the discomfort of the heat. Noticing where his best friend was looking, Tucker bumped his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look.
"It's going to be okay," he whispered. Danny nodded, attention a little hazy as he continued to study Valerie's outline.
"Yeah."
"Alright kids," Lancer said again, holding a cardboard box in his hands. "As you know, this is an interdisciplinary field trip coordinated by myself and Ms. Charles," He motioned to the history teacher with his elbow, "In order to bring to life the fascinating tales of frontier Amity- a time period commonly referred to as the old west." The dedicated educator made a face at the moniker, clearly disappointed with its inaccuracy.
"All of the shops and attractions here are representative of their historical counterparts. The goods and manner of speaking exemplified by the employees is, to the best of my knowledge, accurate according to all primary documents from the time. Does anyone know what kinds of documents we might be examining if we are interested in primary information?"
Some student in the front began to rattle off cited material that they'd been taught in class the day before while Tucker elbowed his friends in the ribs, trying to suppress a snicker.
"Yeah, sure," he whispered, laughing. "I'm sure those plastic cowbow hats were sold in 1800s gift shops."
The trio only stopped giggling when Lancer sent a disapproving glare their way, but even then Sam couldn't wipe the grin off of her face.
"We would like you to visit as many of these sites as you can- and include both first hand and cited research in your papers. Please note the saloon is strictly off limits." That raised a few murmurs and snickers, which the teacher pointedly ignored.
"Now, while we want you to immerse yourself in the culture of the town, we would like to help you with that. In these boxes we have replica costume parts that you can feel free to wear, as well as these." Lancer rummaged through the box and pulled out a plastic gun, painted in bright colors with a colorful clip attached to the bottom. "Paint pellet guns."
That set the crowd off- cheering and gossiping and laughing. It took a few throat clears and a shouted book title ("Of Mice and Men!") before he was able to address them again. "If you participate in Paint Pellet War, you must adhere strictly to these rules: you must don some sort of period vest or shirt from the box. You may only shoot a paint pellet at this vest or shirt- if anyone deliberately shoots at anywhere other than a vest or shirt, you will be immediately sent to wait in the bus and be given detention- along with a phone-call to your parents or guardians." A few worried whispers rose among the students. "The last student without any paint on their vest or shirt will be the winner."
"What's the prize?" Someone called out. Lancer heaved a sigh.
"Yes I was just getting to that, Mr. Wilson," he informed the kid sharply. "The prize is- you will receive the extra credit points of this trip without having to turn in a paper."
Silence followed that proclamation for a few long moments, then chaos broke loose. Students shoved their way forwards, grabbing whatever they could get their hands on- costumes, weapons, ammunition. Danny rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.
"Thanks but no thanks," he said evenly. "I think I'll take my chances with the paper. I'm kind of tired with fighting on a daily basis-"
Sam was still by his elbow, but Tucker was nowhere to be found. The two teens blinked at each other, dazed by the other's disappearance until he returned, loaded to the teeth with hats, vests, guns, and more clips than Danny thought he could carry. His lips were stretched wide in a jaunty grin, but it wasn't enough to cut through Sam's aura of gloom.
"No."
"Oh c'mon."
"No."
"Danny's right- we do too much fighting already. Just write the paper, Tucker."
"I still have that photo of you in-"
Sam quickly grabbed a black and white vest and a gun, flushing furiously as she pulled out a black spray-paint can. Tucker looked on bemusedly.
"Where do you keep those?"
This was the last damn time he was going to be roped into anything by his friends, no matter how much they begged, threatened, and cajoled. Not only was it too damn hot to be roaming around a historical village, he was pretty sure that his death was more or less imminent.
"Are you really that bummed?" Tucker asked as they braced themselves behind a building, waiting for a group of students to pass by. Danny stared at him, unamused.
"Do you realize that this is the perfect opportunity for Valerie to kill me and make it look like an accident?"
"You worry too much," Tucker replied breezily, much to Danny's aggravation. "I don't even think she really knows-"
"Of course she knows! I basically told her-!"
"Guys," Sam cut in, "Coast's clear. Let's move."
The two boys fell silent, Danny's features drawn and petulant. They carefully snaked their way across the main avenue before ducking into an alley. Two vest-clad teens were clutching their guns in front of a store. With a wolfish gleam in her eye, Sam took the two of them down with practice honed over two years of ghost hunting.
For someone who was blackmailed into this, she sure seems to be having fun, Danny thought grumpily, letting his own weapon hang by his side.
"How is this even legal…?" He mused under his breath, taking a few seconds to relax in the supposed-safety of the alley. His respite was short lived. Another voice, painfully familiar, echoed eerily down to where the trio was standing. Valerie Gray was outlined by the high noon sun that blanketed everything else in shadow. In her hand, her gun was shiny and silver, not the ostentatiously painted weapons they'd been issued. It glinted in the rays of light it captured.
Immediately, the grudging humor of the afternoon vanished in the wisp of and icy chill. Danny's heart leapt, his hands shook and his entire frame seized in terror. Vaguely, he noted the muffled voices of his friends, their bodies moving in front of him.
In front? What were they- oh. Right. Blocking him.
Everything snapped back into place with that revelation. His vision cleared and in one swift motion, he yanked on the collars of their shirts and shoved them towards the other mouth of the alley.
"Go!" He commanded them sharply, adding in a quieter voice, "Go to where my backpack is on the bus, I have portable weapons there. Watch your backs."
"But Danny-"
"Go!"
"Fenton!"
He felt Sam and Tucker take off, no doubt running to grab the weapons he had with him in order to return and help fight. But if Valerie was mad enough to bring her own gun, he didn't want them anywhere near this skirmish.
Danny took off running, suddenly glad that Sam had been putting him through his paces as a human for the past two years. It was still hot enough to make his lungs burn and his vision swim, but he leapt over a barrel with ease and swung around a lamppost before changing directions and trying to zig-zag to throw his pursuer off course.
But Valerie never had any supernatural powers to rely on- and even before her ghost hunting she'd always been in top physical shape. It was only a matter of time before she gained on him. Only a matter of time before everything was over.
There was a decision to make- if Danny ran into a crowded store, Valerie could nothing. She would be forced into inaction by witnesses, which could mean the difference between life and death. But that would put citizens in needless danger and Same was right- he didhave that damn hero complex. Plus, with her intentions known she'd have to finish him off as soon as they were alone.
So he swerved, making his way past the edge of the parking lot and out to the sandy expanse of the construction zone behind the Town.
"You're a dead man, Fenton!" Valerie snarled behind him. If he'd had the breath to quip, he would have informed that he was well aware of that.
Sam and Tucker were nowhere in sight. Neither was anyone else. Danny was starting to wonder just how long he could keep this up when fate intervened- he tripped over over a two-by-four and went sprawling into piles of sand and sawdust.
End of the road.
"It's over, Fenton," Valerie told him, leveling the gun straight at his chest. Danny's vision was swimming, and she looked more like a blurry mirage than a person. How anti-climactic, he thought dourly, at least monologue before you shoot me-
Even though it was impossible, everything kind of happened all at the same time. His eyes finally focused on her face, and right before her forefinger squeezed the trigger Danny saw her furious mask slip, a wide, amused grin breaking through. Then she let loose and shot him.
They say you never hear the shot that kills you- Danny assumed that was just a tall tale or a creepy saying. But for a second he believed it, because instead of an ear-shattering bang, there was just an almost silent click. Red blossomed against his chest, square over his heart, and his hand immediately flew to stem the bleeding.
Except, it didn't hurt. At all. Not in a numb way but in a nothing wrong way. Besides almost going into cardiac arrest, it dawned on Danny that there was no bullet hole. No injury, no gaping wound, no loss of blood.
"… Paint?"
Valerie didn't need to clarify- her laugh did more than words ever could. Danny lay back, dumbfounded.
"You should have seen your face!"
"I- You- I- I thought you shot me!"
Valerie said nothing in response, just sauntered over with one hand slung on her hip, gun dangling from her fingers. Danny's features shifted from confused to startled to indignant before life-affirming, hysterical laughter burst from his lips.
"Why would you think I was going to actually shoot you?" Valerie asked good-naturedly, towering over him. "I was just playing you, Fenton. God you're easy."
Because I thought I'd left you a voicemail revealing my super-secret, he didn't say. Instead, he settled on stuttering a few incoherent syllables until Valerie knelt down in front of him. She grinned, this time more impish, under eyelids that were drooped at half-mast.
Danny's heart stopped for a second time, but in response to the light brush of her lips against his. When she pulled away, he noticed a faint blush coloring her cheeks that mirrored his own and belied her confident expression.
"Next time you want to ask me out," She informed him lightly, "You don't have to leave me a cold-medicine-dial, okay? And you don't have to be so dramatic about it."
Danny was incapable of doing anything but grin triumphantly at her for a while as he gathered his wits. Once he was confident his voice wouldn't be a register audible only to dogs, he quipped, "Do you shoot all your potential dates?"
"Only the cute ones," she replied matter-of-factly, then pulled him in for another kiss.
When Sam and Tucker found them again, Danny was dramatically clutching his chest while Valerie stood over them. They would have lunged in to save their friend, but Danny's terrible over-acting was immediately and painfully obvious.
"Curse you, Sheriff Gray! Ah- Ah never thought I'd see th' day."
"Your reign of terror is at an end, Ferocious Fenton. This town is no longer under your outlaw thumb."
Spotting his friends, Danny grinned before struggling to maintain his dying-criminal face. "Tucker, m'brother. I'm… I'm not gonna make it. You need… to tell m' wife that-" He cut himself off, feigning an overdramatic death that had Valerie trying to keep her giggles under wraps.
"Dorks," Tucker and Sam sighed in unison, both shooting Danny in the vest for good measure.
a/n: The girl is still alive, y'all. And I realize that I have a ton of one-shots that I haven't actually posted here. So stay tuned for some DP goodness comin' your way.
