Paradoxical (by timydamonkey)
Author's Note: In case you need a reminder, this chapter contains aforementioned shady graphic images. If you think it warrants a rating bump, let me know. Thank you. Speaking of thank yous, thank you to all my reviewers - it's great to hear your feedback.
On the topic of reviews, the shadow last chapter was not Johnny 13's shadow. Sorry, I should have made that clearer. I don't know if anybody's noticed it, but I tend to not use names if the character whose POV I'm strictly writing in does not know their name. It's Spectra's ghost form, and it's the best description I could come up with. (Better than alternatives such as the ones Sarah and I discussed while I was writing that scene at college, like, "that black 3D shadow thingy"). To Danny, Spectra and her ghost form are different things - as are Vlad and Plasmius. Hope that's cleared up any confusion.
I enjoyed writing this first scene far too much - I've only made one slight edit to it since I wrote it a few months back, adding in the second paragraph, and it was great fun. I suppose that ought to say something about me. Either way, I hope it's interesting. I enjoy writing description - now if only I could balance it with speech, the story might be of better quality...
Chapter Nine: Paranoia
The corridor was empty and picturesque; it was a black-and-white photograph, one long before his time. He stood there, and knew he was horribly out of place.
The obvious spatters on the walls made him choke. It made the room look like a canvas that had become carelessly splattered, but knowing that the substance could only be one thing only made his stomach clench more.
He could see the silhouette of a shadow in front of him. It hung forward limply; arms and legs stretched out almost like some sort of twisted parody of a crucifix. He could see it towering forward like some great giant, the way things in the shadow world often do.
It was cold. It was creepy. He was shivering and it felt as if his skin were trying to crawl away; it was just repulsed with the place. Ideally, Danny wanted to run off screaming too, but a morbid curiosity was calling him forward.
As he walked, he registered a steady dripping sound coming from just in front of him, but otherwise it was completely silent. He shivered again and this time it wasn't from the cold. He reached out slowly, and clutched at the object – the person – that was the cause of the shadow, a baby compared to the giant hanging over him. The figure hung over in a sort of half crouch, one hand clutching at nothing while the other didn't even seem to be there. He grasped the hand gently. He felt as if he'd plunged his hand into a bucket of ice.
The eyes snapped open. They seemed dead, unrecognising, dull… the violet eyes of a dead woman. The figure didn't seem to have caught on that it was meant to be dead, though. The eyes weren't focused, and they weren't exactly staring at him either – they seemed to be staring right through him.
Danny gulped.
She reached out for him as if asking for help, but he didn't move. He was petrified. Besides, if she needed some help then he'd give it to her… he couldn't believe what had happened to her… he wasn't even sure what had happened.
The hand reached out blindly. He thought it was reaching for his shoulder and closed his eyes. They bulged open again when the hand fastened around his throat.
He choked, the hand cutting off his airway. He couldn't breathe. He was slipping to the floor, his eyes bulging wide open, and he grasped desperately at the floor in a bid to bring the world further into focus.
He hurt all over. His eyes flashed green. He was fighting the urge to claw at his own throat, but it was clearly a losing battle.
"Danny!"
He could hear a voice. Danny, it said. Danny? Oh! It was his name! His name! Who was calling him? Maybe he was dying. Or was he already dead? It was all so very confusing…
Then someone punched him in the face. He opened his mouth and air rushed in so quickly that he started coughing harshly. He trembled.
A face appeared in front of Danny's. It was Tucker, so he smiled weakly as his friend helped him to his feet, though he was a little unnerved with the way he was being looked at as if he'd fall apart any minute from then.
"What hit me?" he joked feebly, trying to ignore the images that had been plastered in his mind and were threatening to overcome him.
Tucker's serious look broke a bit, as he looked amused, and Danny saw why when Sam said, "That was me. Sorry, but you looked like you needed it."
He mumbled, "Thanks, Sam," and then he looked at her and froze. The images seemed to dance triumphantly to the front of his mind, demanding his attention. All he could see was the girl, the animated corpse.
He turned and finally threw up on the floor. The images seemed to finally have caught up with him, and he was even more sickened.
"Danny," Sam said, "you really don't look well. Should I-"
He wasn't quite sure what she wanted, but he quickly yelled, "No, no! I just… I… I gotta get out of here!" The pace with which he ran was positively inhuman.
"What's up with him?" Sam fumed, "It can't just be the thing. He knows we're fine with that. Nobody would care!"
"He just went catatonic, Sam," Tucker said, staring her in the eye. "Do you want to be the one to tell Jazz again, because serious as it is, I don't see the point condemning him to her again. Besides, she wouldn't do anything other than watch him constantly."
Sam punched the locker in front of her, then shaking her hand from pain. It hadn't been the best idea. "It's just… so irritating when there's nothing you can do to help!"
"Maybe the best thing we can do for now is to leave him be," Tucker said with uncharacteristic foresight.
"And be there for him?" Sam asked, her eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, and be there for him," Tucker confirmed seriously. "Isn't that what friends are for?"
"That and for going finding the cleaner," Sam chuckled, "because I don't want to have to be the one to get the mop. Even with friends, you have limits!"
When he closed his eyes, the images were practically branded into him. He shivered, opened his eyes again. Sometimes even facing the world could be a better thing than trying to hide inside your head.
He retched. At least he wasn't being sick again.
He didn't understand what had happened. He didn't particularly want to know.
He'd run home, went straight upstairs and collapsed on his bed. He was still there now, curled in a ball, staring unblinkingly at the wall.
Where had it come from? He'd just been standing there, and then – And the girl, who was she? Danny had felt a vague sense of recognition, but couldn't put a name to the face. Maybe he didn't want to do that either, because who really wanted to find out the identity of the living corpse they'd just seen?
Especially when that living corpse didn't seem too fond of him…
He didn't think he'd done anything. What if he'd lost it, and his ghost side – the wretched thing that needed to be gone – had done this? What if his dreams had merely been premonitions, and now he was seeing the results of how truly malevolent he was, and –
Panicking was not going to get him anywhere. He'd done enough of it recently to last a lifetime. There… there had to be another explanation. The ghost was still he. He did it. He'd remember if he'd done something like that – wouldn't he?
There was no time for doubts.
The door creaked open. Danny resisted the urge to turn his head. He knew who it was; of the current occupants in the Fenton household, only one didn't constantly blather on about ghosts.
"Danny?" she asked him.
"Hi, Jazz." He didn't look away from the wall. For a moment, he could almost see blood – He shut his eyes quickly. The sight was still in front of his eyes, but at least it wasn't in front of him. His room was not ever going to become such a blood bath.
"Mom and dad said you didn't look well, and that they didn't want to disturb you. I didn't think they meant –" She cut herself off. "I told them I'd bring you some food."
He forced himself to open his eyes, to look at her. "Thanks." He smiled slightly. "Bread and soup? How'd you figure that one out?"
"From the way your voice is rasping, I figured you'd need it. Besides, when I asked Sam and Tucker were you where, they told me you'd been sick – I don't think they meant to. It just slipped out."
Danny sighed. "Thanks, anyway."
His sister smiled, but made no effort to leave. She seemed to be imposing her company on him. It didn't bother Danny too much, however much he'd have protested it in any sort of company. It was sort of… nice to have Jazz fuss over him. With the way he'd been feeling lately, it had seemed as if the whole world had hated him.
It did make him feel a bit guilty about snapping at Jazz recently, but not enough for him to say anything about it.
He opened the thermos. It looked a bit odd; he didn't think he'd seen it around before. It was white and green, and looked extraordinarily… hi-tech. That was nothing compared to the inside of the thermos, though – it was thoroughly empty, and extremely dry.
Maybe he was going mad.
"Jazz, not that I don't appreciate it or anything, but the soup's… gone."
"What are you talking about?" Jazz questioned. "Don't be ridiculous." She snatched it off him and stared at it. They exchanged an alarmed look.
He hadn't done it, had he? He could barely stop the accusation to himself. Okay, now he was being ridiculous. But what other explanation was there?
Of course, it was as Jazz and Danny were staring in bafflement at the thermos that their parents entered the room.
"How're you feeling, Danny?" his father boomed.
"O-okay, I guess," he replied, a little startled that he hadn't heard them enter. He normally would have done so easily. Everything was obviously getting to him.
"Sweetie, why do you have the Fenton Thermos?" his mother asked, giving him a strange look.
Jazz and he asked practically in unison, "What's a Fenton Thermos?"
"It is the latest in ghost-trapping technology!" His father grinned. "Made to store a whole load of ghosts for easy to dispensability!"
"What were you doing with it?" Maddie's forehead creased in confusion.
Jazz's face was practically aflame. "I tried giving Danny some soup in it, and it just –" She waved her hands uselessly.
Her father grinned excitedly. "Really? Then that means it must have been – GHOST SOUP!"
Danny choked on his slightly hysterical laughter, lapsing into a coughing fit. Maddie and Jack exchanged worried glances.
When he recovered, he didn't give them the chance for another question. Undoubtedly it would be another enquiry about his well-being, and he was frankly getting sick of those. "Could I have it?" He asked. He wasn't sure whether or not he liked the look on his father's face. He looked so –
"Danny, this means you're developing an interest in ghost-hunting! Just like your mother and I – of course you can have it!" Danny didn't have the heart to protest. "Do you want anything, Jazzy-pants?"
Jazz gave them a scrutinizing look. "I'll pass, thanks."
Danny smiled and laid the thermos down on the bed. He smiled at his parents. "Thank you."
"No problem, Danny! Bet you can't wait until you find out that we've finished the Fenton Ghost Catcher!"
"Maddie nodded, smiling. "It'll be done soon – when our hearts are set on something, Jack and I are done in no time! Sleep well, sweetie."
It wasn't even night time, though he wouldn't have argued against going to sleep. "Mom," he grumbled, evidently embarrassed by her display of affection. She just smiled.
"Be better in the morning, alright, Danny?"
"Sure," he told her. "I'll try to be." It was the most that he could say.
"That's all I ask," she smiled, and his parents left his room.
Jazz lingered for a minute, staring at him as if he was a particularly interesting specimen. It was if she was trying to determine what was wrong – she'd obviously noticed his uncharacteristic behaviour as of late…
"You know, Danny," she started suddenly, "if there's ever anything to talk about, you know that I'm here, right?"
He looked up, startled. "Yeah. Yeah. Right, thanks." He was truly grateful for her offer – though he certainly doubted that he'd ever take her up on it. She'd probably react as badly as their parents surely would when she found out the reason for the irregularities in his behaviour…
"Have a good rest, little brother," she said before slipping out of his room. She paused at the doorway. "And you should get something to eat, too – apparently your thermos ate your meal." She grinned slightly, then turned and left properly.
For a moment, Danny almost smiled. It was all right; he wasn't really hungry any more. He'd just sleep.
The smile fell - he was grateful that it was still daytime, and that the shadow demons wouldn't chase him that night.
He wasn't five years old anymore, but he'd had a shock, and a giant of a shadow depicting a mangled body wouldn't be erased from his mind easily.
He knew that the shadows would be chasing him for a long time – but it would be okay. At least for now, he had his family with him. And for what felt like the first time in a long time, he truly smiled.
Author's Note: Spontaneous scenes are your friend when they cover up potential plotholes! The end scene was fun, as I wanted the thermos scene to be a bit different from the regular type you find in fanfiction... hope it worked. Reviews very much appreciated - especially on how effective (or ineffective) that first bit was. Thanks for reading!