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DISCLAIMER: Danny Phantom and Candor do not belong to me.


Sacrifices

Chapter 6; A little push


Zooming high above the city, Danny Phantom relishes the feeling of the air playing with his hair; as he tries to think. Right, so the first attempts on telling either of them went downhill pretty quickly. But, second time won't be so bad, right?

Sighing, he abandons flying, and lands on a neatly-red-painted roof.

Why doesn't he try telling them both together? Yeah, maybe that would work. But what if it doesn't? What if one of them doesn't get the idea and influences the other? What if they both end up being brainless zombies?

Looking up, he saw the stars – a hundred miles away sailing space, looking down at him.

What if Jazz is also star-gazing this very moment? Oh, only if Jazz were here. She would know what to do.

But Jazz isn't the only member of his family. Only alive member, yes, but not the only one.

A sad smile made crept its way to his face.

"Mum, Dad, if you're listening, I just want you to know, I won't give up," And with that, he disappeared – quite litterly – back to Vlad's mansion.

Unaware of the stars high above the sky, twinkling in delight.


Saturday starts like it's supposed to. Danny brews coffee. Vlad reads the newspaper. But nothing feels normal. Then again, when does it? I mean, controlling your brain and all – nope, definitely not normal.

Danny stares at the boiling kettle – unaware of the fact that its whistling; his mind is so distracted. He thinks of Sam everywhere he goes. There's nothing else that can avoid it; Those piercing violet, teasing eyes. Shiny, glossed, curving lips.

Vlad makes his way to the kitchen table, grabs a thermos from the cabinet, and fills it with the coffee from Danny's kettle. "Go get the tackle box," he says, "And the poles."

"Fishing?" They never go fishing. Well, not anymore.

He should be excited. Instead, the idea of going fishing with Vlad only makes him nervous. Everything that's different is making him nervous. Sam. Graffiti. Tucker. Ghosts. New messages. Rebellion. It could be the beginning of an end. Another sign that he's caught somehow.

Vlad looks at his watch. "Better hurry,"

"But I don't know where the tackle box –"

"Garage, left the door. Third shelf from the bottom,"

A message explodes in his brain. Always obey your parents.

Asking questions will only make Vlad more suspicious. That's not the kind of things goof Amity kids do. So Danny shuffles his feet and goes to the garage.

The box is right where Vlad told him it would be. Rusty. Old, fingerprints make polka dots on the dust that gathered on it from the years. One of the latches is missing.

It's not how it used to be. Not even close.


The thermometer in Vlad's car reads 85, and its only 9:00 A.M. "Great fishing weather," Danny comments.

He nods. Either Vlad's ignoring his attitude or he doesn't believe its real. So Danny tries again.

"Maybe it's too hot. We could go tomorrow," 'Or never' he silently adds in his head.

Vlad gives a quick shake of his head and proceeds driving. "Things are set for today,"

What things? He wants to ask. But he's supposed to be afraid of his father. In his pretend life here in Amity, Vlad's supposed to be his idol. So Danny remains quiet. What else is there to do? Run away screaming?

It's downtown Amity; opposite Amity park. They park a few blocks away from the pond. Amity never really had natural ponds; they built it when Vlad made the town. Scooped out dirt to fill people's gardens with. Filled the gaping hole with water.

Insert fish. Instant nature.

They sit near the edge, in the blazing heat. Vlad sets the tackle box in the shade, flips the lid, pulls out a frog lure and attaches it to his line. Makes the first catch of the day. It's perfect; lands with barely a detectable splash.

After a few minutes, in which Danny casts his own line, he speaks; "Thought I told you already. Big bus coming in today,"

Danny gripped his rod with a bit more force than necessary. More people. More clones. Oh, hooray. "We don't need the business, do we?" The waiting list is already years long. Why does Vlad suddenly care about a bus full of tourists?

"There is no such thing as to much business,"

Danny shakes his head, letting his bangs fall over his eyes. Oh, why did he even bother asking? He always says that. It's like he thinks that the waiting list is just a savings account. But…that's why he's still here, right? I mean, Vlad could have easily shipped him off with Jazz to boarding school. Why didn't he?

Maybe that's why he's still here: he's a prop. It must look nice. Father and son, (not biologically, but you get the point) fishing together. Ah, Amity. Home for happy families. Or, in Danny's case; what's left of them.

"Hot today," Vlad says, "They'll be deep,"

"This is nice," Danny admits, because, it kind of is. If he just forgets it's all just for show. Pretend that Sam, and Tucker, and purple graffiti never happened. There's nothing to be afraid of getting caught. No listening room.

"People want something when they see someone else using it. Remember that," Vlad says. He squints – as if he is decided in something – and then says, "Some newcomers aren't adjusting here as expected,"

Newcomers? "I wish I could help," Danny says, but it's just part of the plan to shut down Vlad business.

"You will help," His voice is so certain, "There are two. But one in particular. Samantha Manson. She's your age,"

Sam. Suddenly, Danny's body tenses, and a drop of sweat rolls down his spine.

"She's not adjusting well," Vlad continues, oblivious to Danny's new posture, "Her parents are worried. They came to my office yesterday and we had came to an agreement,"

Vlad finally looks at Danny, his eyes full of determination find Danny's utterly confused ones. "I told them you would help,"

Danny looks at him. He's still watching him, so he keeps his face blank.

"How, exactly?"

"You're her new best friend. Wherever you go, she goes. You'll keep her straight,"

Danny loves this idea. But it came from Vlad. And so, he must be planning something. So; he should hate this idea. Anything can pop up from Vlad's sleeve. Better to go with the hating idea. We don't need Sam getting hurt.

"We have finals coming up," he says weekly.

"Find a way to make it work,"

"And collage applications. Oh, and don't forget all my chores. I wouldn't want to stop doing my chores. It's important to help ones parents," Danny preserves the pleasure of spitting out Vlad's own messages in his face when it's inconvenient for him.

But it's as if they never even touched him. "The girl needs a good example. And it's going to be you," He casts his line out again, smooth and confident.

Who's going to be Danny's good example? Who's going to show him how to ignore the feelings he gets when he's around her? Who's going to help him control the urge he gets, to do stupid, dangerous things, when it comes to her?

Vlad chuckles a bit. "Just don't get attached. Everyone leaves eventually,"

"You don't have to worry about me,"

"I never do," He smiles, "I'll invite her over for lunch sometime soon,"

Then his line jerks. "A bite!" He starts reeling.

It's nineteen or twenty inches, with beautiful blue green scales. "You got a big one," Danny deadpanned.

"Even the fish listen to me," He grins and holds the line up high. Danny didn't know if the pun was intended or not, but all he could do was watch as the poor things gills' flap in and out.

Vlad turns around and waves. A sideways glace shows the big bus. Unbelievable. Some of the tourists actually cheer.

It's for real; and the feeling is back again, the useless feeling of being something unmeaningful, insignificant; the prop.

Danny reaches for the fish. "It can't breathe,"

Vlad hands the flopping thing to him, and heads for the bus. Danny quietly slides the hook out of the fish's lips. Then he kneels down and sets the fish in the water. It stays in place, suspended. Waves its tail. Once. Twice.

"Welcome to Amity!" Vlad yells, he'll probably climb on to the bus next, and convince the driver to give them a tour.

The fish twists his whole body.

"Go," Danny whispers.

A few more flapping of fins, one last flex of its tail, and it's gone.

It's not impossible to escape Vlad.

It just takes a little help.


Thanks for reading. Please review.

~Mark the tiny Giraffe.