Hmmm, I could've left a nice little sneak peek for this chapter in the last, but oh well. Too late now. Anyway, you can just read it now

Thanks to: AlisSilly. Twilightgal, gjcoolio, kybo, Poison's Ivy, v1rg1n1a, JK rulez

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Alternative

Chapt 8- Repeat Offender

Danny eyed the vibrant green blade warily. The question of who was holding it nagged at the back of his mind, but he could not tear his gaze away. The sharp end of it was pressed against his cold and pale skin.

Carefully, he lifted his head to see a masked figure. She was focusing more on keeping a tight grip around her weapon than him. He could feel the blade sink deeper into his neck from the steady breathing. Why on earth did he of all ghosts have to keep that factor? It probably became a subconscious reflex from his days as a halfa.

Danny didn't put too much thought into that, though, when he examined the figure's pale and yet somewhat majestic features. Her shadowed eyes were narrowed in determination and vigor. Her face, despite the familiar splendor he felt when looking at it, wore an expression that could burn through steel. Her appearance made it obvious that she was indeed a threat, but he couldn't help but continue staring. He hadn't seen her well enough in their previous encounter to feel such a strong sense of familiarity. She was so beautiful . . .

And yet here she was, holding a double ended spear at his throat. Even at the age of seventeen, his hormones took control of his mind — and they had a knack of falling for the girl with the weapons. It was no wonder then that he always ended up on the opposite end of them.

For a moment, neither of the two said anything. He continued watching her, his eyes narrowed slightly and a frown set upon his lips, but she did not care to examine his features. Her scowl reminded him so much of Sam . . .

Danny felt a sense of guilt wash over him at the thought of his best friend and began questioning why he came here in the first place. It wasn't to look for Sam and Tucker; it was to find out more about the Black Guard.

Some friend he was . . .

"You just don't know when to quit," a feminine voice said bitterly in exact correspondence to her lip movement. He let out a choked gasp at the sense of familiarity in her voice as she pressed the blade in closer, pinning him against the wall.

She sounded like someone he knew, though much darker — something he would expect from someone who had gone through a lot of suffering in their life. Did that explain how she wound up being a ghost hunter? For once, he could be sure it was not his fault. Perhaps the blame was Median's?

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

"Care to explain what your departing words meant?"

Danny raised a brow at this and lifted his head a little in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position, but to no avail.

"TALK!" the Black Guard demanded, causing her captive to cringe. Her harsh tone pulled him out of his thoughts almost immediately and he narrowed his eyes.

Without warning, she felt her arm twist as he pulled the weapon to the side and lowered it. She barely had a chance to react when the ghost brought his arm forward and emitted a green blast from his palm. It was a light force, but enough to knock her off her feet.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and muttered, "That was unexpected."

"You won't fool me," he replied, startling the hunter. She gasped and looked back, only to find that he was standing several feet away, arms crossed over his chest.

"My friend taught me not to judge people on their looks."

"You have friends?" she shot back while scrambling hastily to her feet. He tilted his head a little and gave her a weak smile. For someone who seemed so strong, she definitely acted a little . . . odd. Not as graceful as he would've expected. Once again, the thought of Sam entered his mind, but he shook it off.

The urge to see her intertwined with his desire to learn more about this new huntress, and while he was here, why not start with the latter?

"Haven't seen them in a while, but yeah. Why? Is that so hard to believe?"

She returned the smile, though hers seemed more like a smirk.

"You continue to amaze me," she said, turning her gaze to the floor and relaxing her shoulders. The gesture caught Danny off guard and he created a green shield on reflex. The hunter caught a glimpse of the glow and looked up.

"Since when did you resort to defense?" she asked. Danny realized his mistake and dropped the guard instantly. He was Median now . . .

The thought brought a look of disgust to the ghost's face. Unfortunately, Sam noticed the reaction. She raised her blades into her fighting stance and eyed her rival questioningly.

"Acting a little strange today, aren't we Median?"

"It's not unusual, is it?" he replied. His eyes darted to the slight movement made by her hands as she tightened her grip again.

Something didn't feel right. She couldn't place it, but there was a hint of familiarity in his tone. Beyond the deep exterior was a resonance she remembered from long ago.

"Who are you?" she wondered aloud. At this, Danny turned away and let a hollow and faint laugh escape his throat.

"Apparently the next Danny Phantom," he whispered bitterly, unable to hide the pain his heart felt at the thought.

He wanted to save them. He wanted to help them, protect them. And they just forgot about him.

They all forgot about him.

Once more, the thought of Sam crossed his mind. He didn't bother pushing it away. He wanted to see her, whether it was real or just an image projected from his memories. He thought of Tucker, Valerie . . .

Did anyone miss him? Had they even tried to find him?

Sam tried—

His mind's focus immediately turned to the green flash of light before him. A second later, a furious shout filled his ears and a sickening feeling swept through him. His skin had burned and a green fluid was pouring from the newly formed gash. He screamed loudly and pressed a hand to his chest as his legs involuntarily gave away.

He collapsed to his knees, teeth clenched tightly as his thoughts raced. The pain was becoming more evident as his mind cleared.

He lifted his head slowly, but an unwelcoming heat pressed against the back of his neck, forcing him to keep his gaze on the floor. He noticed two black boots a few inches parallel to his knees.

The Black Guard looked down at him, violet eyes sharp and brimming with hatred. She pressed the blade against his neck, forcing him to keep his sight on the tiled floor. She didn't want him looking at her. She didn't want to stare into those cold and scornful green eyes. He didn't deserve to look at her . . .

"Do not . . . ever," she began, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady, "mention his name . . . again."

Danny winced as she pressed down once more, pushing him closer to his knees and adding to the pain in his chest. He released his hand from the wound only to find that a cold green liquid was now staining his bare fingers.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, pleading silently that she would stop pressing her weapon into him. The words meant nothing when they left his mouth, and in his view he had nothing to apologize for. Still, the position was uncomfortable and it'd be best to stay on the hunter's good side. Intangibility was an easy way out, but he was never going to gain her trust like that.

To his relief, the burning sensation in his neck began to diminish. She raised her blade slowly and, in turn, he lifted his head, still making sure to keep his eyes on her black boots. Then suddenly, she lowered down to his level, startling him.

Danny looked up and caught a glimpse of her face only inches away. Judging by her furious glare, the apology hadn't been accepted. Instead, she grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him up, keeping their faces only inches away from each other as the wind blew gently against his back, blowing her hair out of her way.

He could feel the heat rising in his pale cheeks as he looked down at her. He tried to bite back any stupid attempts of leaning closer . . .

Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam! Think about Sam!

Sam's not here . . .

Shut up! Think of Sam, think of—

"Those words mean nothing coming from you," the Black Guard muttered darkly, disturbing the awkward moment and clenching her fist tighter so that he could feel her knuckles press into him.

"Why do you care so much?" he blurted suddenly. Her lip twitched slightly and she narrowed her eyes. He tried to stand straight, but the fact that she was a little less than a foot shorter proved it to be a wasted effort.

"Why I care does not concern you," she said in the same tone, extending her arm and throwing him back. He landed on the floor and let out a pained gasp as the gash tightened.

Danny tried to force himself up, but she knocked him back down with her foot, adding again to the injury. His eyes darted to her mask, luminescent green meeting a shadowed amethyst.

She wanted nothing more than to make him suffer for everything 'he' did to her. And yet still, he couldn't help but remind himself that she cared about Danny Phantom. That was the only thing that kept him from losing his temper.

"Who are you?"

The voice was much softer now. It reached his ears like a whisper, almost making him forget the position he was in.

Almost . . .

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wincing at the pressure of her heavy boot resting on his injury. His hands were wrapped around her foot, trying to push her off.

"I gave you that answer," Danny replied calmly, still trying to get her to remove her weight from his chest. Stubbornly, she pressed harder.

"Your answer wasn't good enough," she said, leaning down to look at his face closely as it contorted uncomfortably. He, however, kept his eyes shut and turned his head to the side.

"W-Who are you?" he asked, turning the question around on her. She narrowed her eyes and exerted more force, causing him to cry out.

"Do not mess with me, ghost," she warned, feeling somewhat guilty as he gritted his teeth in agony, helplessly trying to push her off without stressing his wound.

"I-I'm Median," he replied, now wishing more than anything that he could turn back time and return to Clockwork's tower.

"No, you're not. Who are you? I want the truth."

He bit his lip, finally giving up and placing his hands on the floor. His desire to turn intangible was urging him on, but there was also the factor of common sense.

She was much quicker than him; her weapons contained powerful traces of ectoplasm. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she'd be able to prevent his escape with them. The last thing he needed was to be stabbed by something that was immune to his powers.

"It's five past ten. The real Median would've been long gone by now. What are you? Another form of him?"

She waited for him to look at her, but he never did. The ghost simply showed no sign of interest in responding to her questions.

Answer me!

So many things left unsaid. Now was her chance to fit all of the pieces of the puzzle — the other half of Median. Was this his good side?

'I'm sorry.'

Those words alone nearly had her choking no air. Why he had said them had her in complete bafflement. It had caught her off guard, though something in the back of her mind told her it wasn't supposed to. He hadn't said it for that purpose.

No, her mind screamed as her eyes caught the ghost sinking into the floor. She gasped and brought her blade down in an attempt to break through his intangibility, but instead stumbled forward as her foot hit the floor unexpectedly.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as a smooth hand grasped the back of her outer black shirt, catching her before she plummeted into the ground. Without thinking twice, she swung her blade around to the left and pierced it into the ghost's side. He jerked suddenly to the right and let out a surprised gasp.

Sam pulled out of his grasp and retrieved her weapon, grimacing at the green blood now dripping from its tip. He landed on his back once more, his breathing rasp. That caught her wonderment. A ghost breathing?

The more attention she paid to his characteristics, the more puzzled she grew.

His eyes, now wide with rage, turned to her. A dark glare was set upon his features. She stepped back absentmindedly and caught her breath. The sight frightened her. Median never gave her that look before. He never seemed like the type to actually have enough strength to challenge her like that. It was enough to intimidate her, and that definitely wasn't good.

The ghost forced himself back onto his feet, his expression remaining the same, though she could see that he was trying hard to keep it that way. Slowly, he tore his gaze away and raised a hand.

Sam stepped back, but he rested his palm on his newest injury and waited. Her eyebrows pressed closer together as she stared in bewilderment, mouth slightly open.

A white flash escaped his fingers and crept into the pool of green. The two shades blended until the lighter conquered, slowly absorbing the blood around it and closing the cut before it, too, faded away.

Sam stared in shock at the scene. She was too focused on the bizarre new ability to notice that his face had paled even more.

The intensity of the light began to diminish, as did the pain that came with it. At that moment, his features softened and he opened his eyes. Sam looked up at his face for the first time since then and waited. Somehow, she couldn't help but wonder if his new strength hurt him more than it had helped.

The disappearance of the mark left by her most recent assault proved her wrong. Her facial expression hardened and she returned the glower. His lips curled into an amused smirk and, immediately, her fierce appearance melted away.

A hint of red reached her pale cheeks. She could not look away. Somewhere in her head, half her mind was screaming at her. And yet, the other half just blanked out.

Something was definitely not right.

He left his deeper cut alone for some reason and began approaching her, though she remained still, thoughts persistently running through her mind. The answers remained lost. She had one explanation for the strange and somewhat appealing behavior, but her heart refused to accept it. It was as if the only logical reason was hidden behind a barricade, being held back by the fact that she was too stubborn to believe it. The barrier was simply held by her denial.

Danny is dead, Sam reminded herself difficultly. The words struck her heart with a fierce blow. It was as if a tremendous force had come crashing down on her, breaking every inch of the faint morale that kept her on her feet. Her legs shook suddenly, and she leaned her palms back against the wall to keep herself standing.

It was then that her eyes returned to focus and fixed upon the darkened face of Median through her mask — his glowing green eyes locked with hers.

"Sam!"

A frightened gasp escaped her throat and her gaze on the approaching ghost weakened. That sounded a lot like—

"Danny?" she whispered. Black and white began mixing before her, intertwining into a blend of darkness and light. Her vision was blurring, as was the face of the ghost before her as he steadily came closer, every step echoing in her ears. She was pressed against the wall, barely able to keep herself from falling.

"Danny, stop! Don't come any closer!"

Come back, her heart screamed now, recalling the memory as the image recreated itself in her mind.

"But you're over there and I'm over here. I want to be over there."

She brought her hands up to her head, pressing back against the firm support. Her back curved and her legs slid forward a few inches, her body slowly reaching the floor.

"Tucker? Sam? I-I . . . am a ghost. I have no friends."

"You're not just a ghost! Fight him!"

. . . . Fight him!

She dropped the floor and swung her leg over to the left, but he phased through it.

Danny's fourteen year-old face began forming within the darkness of her closed eyes, at first just a blur of various colors. It comforted her to see the lively shades. The fear of the troubles around her began to fade as her mind suddenly cleared. She felt . . . happy.

For the first time in years, she truly felt wonderful. The bliss of seeing him again comforted the girl. Her tense body began to loosen up. Everything around her was pushed to the edge of her mind, no longer the center of her attention.

He was here, watching her, a blurred blue evident amongst his other wonderful features. Sam could feel her eyes watering again, and the boy's form began to swirl, every color streaking into the other.

"No," she whispered softly, "come back . . ."

"I can't."

That long-lost voice she had been yearning to hear entered her mind so vividly. It sounded so clear, making her eyes snap open, wide with dread.

"Stay with Tucker."

"No—"

"I'll right back . . ."

"NO!"

Danny stumbled back, startled by the girl's reaction as she suddenly rose to her feet and shot him a death glare, eyes blazing with a fiery hate.

"STOP IT!" she screamed, swinging her blades into the air and flailing them wildly at him. He gasped and moved back in correspondence to each assault.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he tried, making a successful attempt at catching one of her weapons before it hit him. However, it was for that reason that he was caught by surprise when the other made contact with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor almost instantly.

His surroundings merged together for a second before coming back into focus. He groaned and turned over onto his side. The Black Guard was already kneeling beside him, tears running down her red cheeks.

He heard a soft clang as the metal made contact with the tiled floor. Her left hand caught a hold of his throat and directed him until he was left lying on his back, a slight discomfort now taking over.

With her other hand, weapon in tact, she flipped the blade between her fingers until she had a content and tight grip on it.

Danny's luminous green eyes widened, taking notice that the pointed tip was only inches away from his chest, directly where his silent heart was.

The beast roared in pain as one point of the double-ended spear pierced through its chest, right where its heart would've been, had it had one. She caught onto the jutting end of it and prepared to make her final strike, pulling her other blade back in preparation. A look of triumph had imprinted itself amongst her malevolent stature.

A choked sob pierced through his flashback like ice shattering the humility felt by watching the fight from the sidelines, taking no part in it whatsoever. But it wasn't like that anymore, and the sudden disturbance only pulled him roughly back into reality, where he was the victim.

The girl's pain shone even from the concealment of her shrouded mask. He looked carefully into her eyes, realizing for the first time how much his heart ached to see them again . . .

. . . That beautiful shade of amethyst.

Her tears leaked onto her hand and slowly slid down to the visible remainder of his neck, warming the cold temperature his body had endured for so long. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his reflexes picked up a sudden movement — a shade of green reaching the border of his sight.

Only one word slipped his tongue as he watched her shut her eyes.

"Sam . . ."

And at the exact moment, she choked out, "Danny!" But the reference was to the Danny she was seeing behind the wall of darkness her eyelids had projected. The fourteen year old Danny . . .

She swung the blade down swiftly, eyes snapping open one last time to look at him. It was that same look of loathing she hinted before. The look that spoke clearly, 'You will pay.'

And her angelic voice reached his ears.

"You're a repeat—!"

"—offender . . ."

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Chapter 9: Danny's finally getting answers, but just as things start to get better, they start to get worse . . .

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