Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.
It was quiet out in the streets at three a.m. There were, surprisingly enough, no ghosts about – that could be seen, at any rate. Fog was swirling around, muffling the few sounds of the night and dimming the already faint glow of the streetlamps further.
From the fog came a slow, weary tread of combat boots against pavement. A few seconds later, a young woman appeared from the fog, dressed in a long, black trenchcoat that was buttoned up. The fog obscured the lower half of her body.
She stopped in front of the streetlamp for a moment and stared up at it from just underneath, blinking at the light. She exhaled slowly, noisily, and stepped towards the edge of the circle of light.
The woman hesitated, one foot wavering on the other side of the boundary of light. She glanced backwards. No one was there. No one was stopping her from leaving, from doing what she had to do. She didn't have to leave. There could be some other way, some other method that wouldn't involve her leaving without telling any of them – though she was sure he, at least, knew what she was trying to do.
Hopelessness in the face of what was happening (along with what could happen) warred with uncertainty of the best method across her face. She knew that she could find a way to stop this if she took this path, but would she find it fast enough?
I have to do this, she thought to herself. It's the only surefire way.
Defeat and despair danced across her face now as she made up her mind. She looked further back, peering into the dark, hungrily drinking in the sight of her town for the last time in a long time.
A tear slowly traced its way down her pale cheek, sparkling like a miniature crystal in the pale light. She shook her head almost angrily and pivoted to face the darkness outside her small circle of comfort from the dark night and heavy decisions.
She walked away from her town and the life that she'd always known, head down and hands in pockets. She would solve this problem, fix this catastrophe.
It's going to be okay.
The fog parted where she came in contact with it and closed behind her, swallowing her slight figure.
A pair of emerald eyes watched solemnly as she left from their invisible perch on top of the light. The owner momentarily closed his eyes and grimaced in pain.
This is the only way, he reminds himself. She knows what she's doing, she has a plan – she has to do this.
He stared in her direction long after she had disappeared from his heightened senses.
You can do this, Sam. I believe in you.
A/N: So, this is the first DP fic I ever wrote. As stated in my Author's Note last chapter, I moved it off of my profile because it was so short - it's the same thing with the next chapter. You have been warned.
No, I still don't know what this is about.