To Say Goodbye
A Danny Phantom Fanfiction


A journal, old and worn, lies in your hands, unearthed after millennia of being buried beneath feet of dirt. The pages are frail and the leather cover has been mostly eaten away by time. The script inside is faint, but legible. With the care you were trained to use as an archeologist, you open the journal to the first page.

February 25th

I remember the date. January 8th, 2006. Everything else is a blur. Sometimes in my sleep I can catch glimpse of that winter morning, but when I wake up, it's gone. Karen, the therapist my parents are forcing me to see, says that's normal. Not that I really trust her opinion. She's a stuffy person, nosey too. She smiles too much, and her laugh sounds like an elephant is sitting on her chest, short and raspy. Still, I suppose she's the expert on the matter. Not that she really knows, not that anyone really knows.

I started seeing her two weeks after the accident, if you could call it that. We've talked, or more I've talked, and still the memory is just a blur. I'm not sure I want to remember, but Karen says it will help me move on. Sam's been keeping a journal and says it's helped, so why not give it a try. I'll write down what I can remember, if I can that is.

February 28th

I had a dream last night. It could have been a dream or a memory, I'm not sure. There was a green flash, and then nothingness. I could smell blood. Lots of it. It coated my hands and my shirt and I knew some had splattered on my face, even though I couldn't feel it. The dream didn't last long. Mom heard me crying and woke me up. I wish she hadn't. They say you only remember interrupted dreams, never completed ones.

I've taken three showers today alone, but no matter what I do, I can't get the feeling of blood off my hands.

March 5th

Sam had a breakdown in the middle of class this morning. She couldn't stop crying, no matter what anyone did, she wouldn't stop crying. When she left I picked up her stuff for her. I've never seen anything like it. The paper she'd been writing on was covered in repeating numbers: 010826. It's the date, I know it is.

I feel bad for Sam, I honestly do, but it's good to know that I'm not the only one struggling.

March 7th

I had the courage to come clean to my parents today. We sat down and I told them everything. They were surprisingly accepting, despite being appalled at how dangerous of a life I led. I told then I planned on continuing fighting ghosts, despite the loss of my best friend. It was my job now, Sam and my's job. No one else has the experience to do it, so it still falls to us. Anyway, we'd be failing him if we quite now.

My parents understood. Though I can't help being afraid that I'm making a bad decision. I don't want to lose Sam as well.

March 12th

They say memories can sneak up on you in places you'd never expect them to. They're right. I never thought lunch could remind me of him. But it did. I think it was the mystery meat. One moment I was eating my lunch, the next I was standing back in that snow covered field. We'd been out for target practice. The lab was off limits that day and we'd found a good hiding place on the edge of Amity with plenty of room to roam, so we spent the day firing off weapons and shattering clay pigeons. It was well after noon when the air had grown heavy and we knew something was wrong. I still can't remember what happened after that.

When I pulled myself back to reality Sam was giving me a funny look. I told her I was fine and made up some stupid excuse. She says she's okay now but I don't want to trigger another breakdown. It was too much to see her like that.

March 13th

We got back into ghost hunting today. Nothing big. Just the box ghost, an easy fight, even with one member of the team missing. In all honesty, back then, any one of us could have handled him alone, but now were so rattled that it took an enormous amount of effort to even face him. It was nothing but routine that cost us his life, after all.

Mom says it will get better, and I believe her. It's just… I'm so lost.

March 16th

It's pathetic. I can't even say his name anymore without bursting into tears. It's been over two months and still I can't go a day without breaking down. Karen says it's amazing how well I'm holding up. She claims that most people wouldn't even be able to get out of bed in the morning after what I'd seen. Maybe she'd think differently if she could see me at night, when I'm alone. I can't sleep without the light on and even then nightmares plague my every dream.

March 25th

Clay pigeons, clay pigeons, clay pigeons. It was all because I had found some stupid clay pigeons in my dads office and wanted to try them out.

March 27th

The beaten,
The hurt,
The lifeless,
The sad.

Downtrodden,
Inert,
blameless,
yet bad.

The bully,
The evil,
The hate
And the love.

The beastly,
The dismal,
Their fate,
Their beloved.

The dead,
And the dying,
The ones left behind.
And the things they aren't saying,
In this dark state of mind.

April 2d

Skulker. I remember it was Skulker.

April 3d

Happy Birthday.

April 7th

It'll be two month to the day tomorrow. Sam wants me to come with her to visit his grave. I haven't since the funeral, I haven't felt strong enough. And I still don't think I can.

April 8th

I tried, I honestly did. Sam and I walked all the way to the cemetery together, talking about meaningless things. The line "some weather we're having" just pisses me off every time I hear it. "Yeah, it's sunny for the fifth day in a row, woop-dee-doo." When we reached the front entrance, I couldn't get up the courage to go inside. I don't deserve to see him, after all. It was my fault. I may not remember much, but I do know that if I hadn't sat there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot, his blood coving my face and hands, he'd still be here. If I'd just been a little faster, just a little braver, he'd still be alive.

I sat outside the entrance to the cemetery and cried. It felt good to know I wasn't alone when an elderly woman sat by me, holding flowers for a deceased loved one, and cried right along with me. We never said a word to each other, we just sat and cried. After a while Sam came back and the woman just patted my back and left. It's amazing, what complete strangers will do for one and other.

April 12th

We found his journal. There was a letter tucked away in the back for each of us: Sam and I, along with the rest of his family. He'd even wrote a letter for Lancer. I haven't read mine yet. I'm too scared.

April 16th

I'm sorry, Danny. I'm so sorry.

April 17th

A letter, so wrinkled and warn that it is obvious it has been folded upon itself hundreds of times, stands in place of a journal entry, tapped down to the page.

Dear Tucker,

If you're reading this than I'm most likely dead. I don't know the circumstances of what happened, but please don't feel guilty. I expected this. In our line of work you can't expect to live forever, you can't expect to win every battle. It's not your fault. No matter what happened I'm sure you did your best. Knowing you, there was nothing else you could have done.

I wanted to say thank you. You're the one friend that I have always been able to count on, the one person that, throughout my life, has always stood at my back. Ever since the accident I've come to believe that no matter what happens you will always have my back. So, thank you. And I hope, desperately, that I can live up to your expectations of me. I know you don't expect me to be perfect, but I hope I at least made it look like I was trying. It's hard, living this life, but it's a little easier knowing that I have friends like you to back me up.

If you're reading this and I'm gone, then please, keep living. For me, for Sam. She'll need you and you'll need her. Live life, I know you'll go far. As for ghost fighting, I'll leave it up to you. There is no obligation, despite what I know you think, for you to fight ghosts in any way. You're not the one that's already half dead.

Tuck, I am sorry. So very sorry.

Your best friend,

Danny Fenton/Phantom

P.S. It was me that painted your trumpet case pink in the sixth grade, not Mikey, sorry.

April 21st

I finally convinced my parents to let me stop seeing Karen. She wasn't doing much to help, but in return I had to agree to be put on anti-depressants. I don't like them very much, they make my head foggy and my skin tingle. The doctor says that will go away, but the scariest part is that if I'm not happy I don't feel anything. Instead of feeling sad, I simply feel blank. Sam says I'm not me when I take them, not that I've really been myself much anyway.

April 23d

In the depth of the night, by an old hollowed tree, an owl stirs. The creature struggles violently against the chains binding it's body. But to no avail. Even if he was to escape it would do him no good. His wings have been clipped and his beak sown shut. Such is his fate, to remain a prisoner, a captive, within the dark.

Mice no longer fear him. They crawl about upon his stilled form, knowing full well that he can do them no harm. The creatures he once laughed at from above now claw at his eyes and tear the feathers from his skin. Oh, what innocence he had in those days when he simply believed that no beast so small, so powerless, could harm him. And now it is they, his prey, which tear into his very life.

May 1st

It was a rather regular day today. Class was rather dull, but Dash hadn't shoved me in my locker since Danny died, so that was a plus. He seems to have finally gotten sick of pitying me. I have to admit that it felt rather nice, familiar, to spend an hour jammed in my locker before a teacher let me out.

I didn't cry once today either, which is a plus as well. Though I can't tell if that's the medicine or just the fact that I'm getting better. I feel guilty, moving on, but I also know it's what Danny would have wanted. I've slept through the night for the past two days without nightmares as well. I have to admit, when I first started taking the medicine I felt ashamed for not being able to solve my own problems. I guess I just needed some help.

May 3d

Sam laughed today. I couldn't help but cry at her for it.

May 4th

I went and saw Danny. I talked to him for a while. It felt good.

May 10th

Sam's sick this week. Some common cold. I'm sure she'll be fine, but I can't help but worry. She's all I have left.

May 21st

The town's begun to wonders what's happen to Danny Phantom. Lancer's already linked Fenton to Phantom. He said he had before we found Danny's letter, which explained everything to him.

Sam and I are debating whether or not to tell the town just who Phantom was. His family has left it up to us, seeing as we were the ones he trusted with his secret. We both want every one to know the hero he was but at the same time it almost feels like we're betraying him.

May 24th

It came back so fast. I was fine, then suddenly I remembered everything and could do nothing but cry.

It'd been Skulker, I already knew that much. We'd been practicing our aim with the Fenton blasters when he showed up. Danny'd put up a good fight, Sam and I help in what ever way we could but for some reason he was stronger that day, stronger then ever. Instead of targeting Danny like he always had, he went after Sam and I. I remember getting hit in the side but dodging most of his blows. But when I hadn't been quick enough to react, Danny jumped in the way. God, there was so much ectoplasm. When he'd changed back was when things got bad. It wasn't just a gash in his side, it was a hole through his middle. By the time the ambulance got there, he was already dead. I watched the light leave his eyes and his body go limp.

I'm sorry, Danny, but no matter what you say, it was my fault.

May 28th

Ms. Fenton called me today. We talked for a while and I ended up coming over and having lunch with her. I told her how everything happened. She cried a lot but agreed with Danny in the end. It wasn't my fault. It's still hard to believe her. I'm just glad she's doing alright.

June 5th

We've come to a decision. On the sixth month mark, June 8th, Sam and I are going to reveal just who Danny Phantom was to the town. We've already arranged a town meeting and secured several interviews. We honestly have no desire for the fame but Danny deserves this. He was a hero that gave not only his life but his soul to protecting this town. The town deserves to know and Danny deserves to be recognized.

We have his parents full support. Even Sam's parents are pitching in. They still believe that Danny was a bad influence, but at least they understand that this is important to Sam.

June 9th

I was so exhausted that I forgot to write yesterday. It was hectic. Luckily the town seemed to believe us for the most part. We had some pretty convincing evidence, after all. Once we explained the situation we were bombarded by questions. They asked everything ranging from stories of his life to what kind of socks he wore. Some of the questions were difficult to answer, but it felt good to get it all out, you know?

The town's decided to put up a statue in his honor in the park. They have one of Amity's best sculptors creating the design and Sam and I get to look it over before they start building. The ideas the man already has are amazing. I can't wait until he gets the design done.

Valerie seemed a little sullen yesterday. We gave her the letter Danny wrote to her but I think it will take a while for her to accept the whole thing. Hell, I was there when it happened and it still took me weeks to accept that Danny was part ghost. We've decided to back off and give her some time. No one's going to force her to do anything. All we're asking is that she understand just who and what Danny was.

June 11th

If only he hadn't been so God Damn stupid and just let me take the hit. I should be the one buried beneath feet of dirt, not Danny.

June 20th

The designs for the sculpture are finally done. Sam and I didn't have much to change except making his face look a little less all powerful and a little more like the fifteen year old kid he was. It's funny to think that Danny was only fifteen when he died and will remain fifteen forever, whether as a ghost (which we're not certain he is) or in people's memories, when Sam and I have both already turned sixteen. The statues construction starts next week, once a plot of ground is cleared out.

Sam realized something yesterday. We never returned the infi-map to frostbite from when we used it last fall. It would be so simple to open it up, say "take us to Danny" and know for certain if he remained a ghost or not. People all over town have claimed that they've seen him sitting at his own grave, but I don't really believe them. It's almost painful to think that he'd want to remain in the Ghost Zone for all eternity, surrounded by enemies, if he had even the slightest chance of moving on. Though if he did have that chance or not, we don't know. It could be completely possible that due to being half ghost already, Danny is forever tied to the Ghost Zone. We don't have any real way of finding out unless we were to use the map. Which in all honesty, I don't think Sam or I'm ready to do just yet.

July 4th

The fireworks weren't the same without Danny flying up and letting off a few of his own.

July 30th

We tried the map. Nothing. He's gone.

After what seemed like an eternity of simply staring at the map, both Sam and I sat down and cried. His family was there too. Jazz cried with us. His parents took a little longer to comprehend the situation, but in the end, they had to leave the room. It's a relief, knowing he's truly moved on and isn't sitting out in that endless nothing for all eternity. And yet, I'm disappointed. If he's gone, I can never tell him what he meant to everyone. Can never say thank you.

August 10th

I've decided to move on. Danny did, it's my turn. If he had the strength to leave knowing he'd never see any of us again, then I need to have the strength to remove this God Damn blame from my shoulders. It wasn't my fault. I did what I could. Danny knew what would happen and he protected me anyway. Danny doesn't deserve to be remembered the way I've been remembering him. I've been mad at him, so mad. I've done nothing but cry. It's time to remember him as the hero, friend and son he was, not just the way he died.

Tomorrow I'm moving on. But today, today I'll remember, and morn for the last time.

January 8th, 2007

I saw him today. Not his head stone, or in a dream. I truly saw him. He wasn't a ghost, or human, he just was. He smiled, and vanished.

At least we know now that he's happy, and that he's always been watching over us. Maybe that's why there's been so few ghost to hunt.

April 11th

I'm going to burry this journal with Danny. Now that I know he comes by the grave I know that he'll see it.

We love you Danny. I hope you know just how much we all miss you. And thank you, so very much.

Picture after picture is taped into the journal. They document not only life with Daniel Fenton but life after Danny as well. Many pictures of Phantom are pasted into the pages as well.

On the last page is a more recent photo which shows Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson standing around the statue of Danny Phantom in Amity Park. Both are smiling.

This is what you've been looking for years: proof that the alleged hero, Danny Phantom, actually existed. Looking around you find that the statue shown in the journal is long gone. Two thousand years tends to do that. With one last heart felt glance you place the journal in a padded box. In that moment a shiver runs up your spin and you can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Danny." You whisper into the silence.


05 November 2011