A/N: Well hi... guess what. I just finished typing up the draft for chapter 38... which sort of got things moving again and moved the plot along to the next part. It also ended in a way I hadn't anticipated, but I'll have to deal with that waaaay later. So there was no real reason to hold back this chapter any longer.

Warning: ... well. All warnings still hold, I guess. Remember, Danny's thoughts are his own, me, I'm doing the pushing... :)

LOST

Chapter 36: GIW

At exactly two o'clock, fifteen minutes after my ghost sense had gone off, I phased back into my room and transformed into my human half. Jazz and Tucker, who had been covering for me, jumped up. I could see the questions burning inside of them, but they knew better than to ask them right then and there, allowing me to settle down first. I felt the adrenaline still sear though my body, making me restless and jumpy and strangely content. It was like a drug, I realized, something to be used to focus on the things I had to do. As long as I was fighting, I didn't have to worry too much about frighteningly real flashbacks.

I was wrong again, of course, but I wouldn't find that out until much later.

"Did you catch him?" Tucker asked, glancing at my alarm clock, "Or it? Or whatever that thing was?"

"Sure," I said, grinning and holding up the thermos, "Just took me a while to sweep up all the pieces, that's all."

Jazz stepped closer and grabbed my arm, the one I had used to hold up the thermos, obviously having caught sight of the fresh burn marks on it.

"What's this?" she demanded, "What happened? Why is it still there, your wounds are supposed to mostly disappear when you transform."

I tried to turn my arm to have a look at it. It only stung a bit, but it looked painful. I shrugged.

"I'll wear long sleeves," I said, "They won't notice. Are they there yet?"

Jazz opened her mouth to answer when a loud rumbling interrupted her. The three of us hurried to the window and looked outside. My jaw dropped. Turning into our street was a caravan of at least ten white vans, one after the other, pulling up to our house. The last to turn the corner was a huge white truck. The lot of them approached until the first van came to our front door, where it stopped. The driver of the second van obviously wasn't paying too much attention, because he had to hit the brakes when he noticed that the vehicle in front of him was no longer moving. The third van then collided with the second van, which resulted in it colliding with the first van. The rest of the vans and the trucks managed to stop undamaged. I shook my head.

"This," I said, trying to wrap my mind around what I was seeing, "Is the GIW?"

Jazz bit her lip. She looked both amused and scared.

"Don't let their incompetence fool you," she said, "Alone, they're just fools. Together... well, there's a lot of them. If they catch you..."

"They're fools," I said, looking at the men in the white suits getting out of the vans, "They're not going to catch me."

Tucker shook his head. "Don't underestimate them, Danny," he said, uncharacteristically serious, "They're getting better, their weapons are getting better and they can seriously hurt you. And there's a lot of them, and even more where they came from. You can't beat them. Don't let them suspect you of anything ghostly."

I rolled my eyes, but the adrenaline rush I had felt before was wearing off, making me long for a sip of vodka again to suppress the fear and anxiety that were resurfacing. I turned away from the window and walked to the door.

"Go on ahead," I said to Jazz and Tucker who were following me, "I'll be down in a minute."

I turned to enter the bathroom.

"Again?" Tucker asked, "Are you alright? Or are you just nervous?"

I shook my head and gave him a lopsided smile, suppressing a twitch. "Ghost fights make me thirsty," I said truthfully, and then, less truthfully, "I'm just going to drink some water."

I closed the door behind me and again found myself in the bathroom. This time, I didn't hesitate. I couldn't afford to appear nervous and all jittery, the way I was feeling now. I had to relax. I pulled out the bottle, unscrewed the lid and quickly gulped some of it down it down. The liquid burned my throat and brought tears to my eyes. I stopped, grabbed the sink and waited for the burning sensation in my chest to subside. I sniffed and looked in the mirror. Still nothing wrong, right?

I screwed the lid back on, placed the bottle in my pocket once more and took out a piece of gum from the package. I chewed on it, waiting for the slightly dizzy feeling to overcome my anxiety. Finally, having waited long enough and not wanting anybody downstairs to wonder where I was, I left the bathroom and slowly made my way down, making sure to keep my hand on the banister, as not to give away the slight sway in my walking.

I could do this.

About halfway down they saw me. Six huge men, all bald, all wearing immaculate white suits and dark sunglasses, turned as one and stared at me as I was stepping down the stairs. My parents, even my father, looked small in comparison, although my father certainly wasn't a small man by any standard. When I looked closer, I noticed that he wasn't in fact smaller than the Guys in White, but just appeared so because of their overwhelming presence. He smiled uncertainly at me, as if torn between his admiration for the government agency and his anxiety of what they were doing here. Tucker and Jazz were seated on the couch, aside, as if they didn't matter. They looked distinctly uncomfortable.

A silence fell over the room. I reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped, staring back at them.

"What?" I asked, "Why are you all staring?"

To my satisfaction, I sounded sullen, annoyed. Not nervous. My voice didn't quaver, my hands didn't shake. I was in control again. Feeling bold, I let go of the banister and calmly walked right into the middle of them. There, I stopped.

"Well?" I asked.

Somehow, that seemed to break the spell. Three of the guys stepped back and leaned against the wall next to the door to the kitchen. My father put his arm around my mother, who was looking at me in surprise. Jazz frowned at me, but didn't move from the couch. I sat down in one of the chairs. The other three GIW did the same. One of them, a black man, seemingly in charge, flipped open a notebook.

"Daniel Fenton," he said.

"Danny," I said.

He looked up, raised his eyebrows, and then looked down at his notebook again. "It says Daniel here," he said.

I rolled my eyes but let it slide. If they were going to be annoying about it, so be it. It reminded me of Vlad though, but I squashed the tinge of unease that brought about. Vlad was the least of my worries right now.

"Fine," I said, leaning back, "Who are you?"

He looked up again and stared at me. Silence settled over the room. I supposed I should have been intimidated by his look, but I wasn't. I stared right back, defiantly.

"My name is irrelevant," he said finally, "You may refer to me as agent Z. Please recount to us exactly what happened when you were abducted by the evil ghost named..." He looked down at this notebook, "...Walker."

I laughed. I probably shouldn't have, but it was funny. They all stared at me, and from the corner of my eyes I could see my mother grab my father's hand. I stopped abruptly and leaned forward, staring intently at agent Z.

"Amnesia," I said.

I sat back and crossed my arms, only just managing to keep myself from smirking at the man. He stared at me for a moment, and then looked down at this notebook and wrote down a single word. Amnesia, no doubt. I felt like laughing again, and realized I probably had drunk a bit too much of the vodka, and it was slowly making me lose control. Realizing that almost made me panic. I looked at my mother.

"Can I have some water, please," I asked her, "I'm thirsty..."

Tucker's eyebrows shot up and he looked at me in amazement. It took me a moment to realize that I had already used that excuse. I didn't meet his gaze, but kept my eyes on my mother, who nodded and untangled herself from my father's embrace to get me some. I turned my attention back to agent Z, who was looking at me impatiently.

"You don't remember anything about it?" he asked, looking skeptical.

I shook my head. "That's generally what amnesia means, yes," I said.

He obviously didn't like my flippant behavior, and neither did Jazz. She was now scowling so ferociously at me that I'd better make myself scarce once the GIW were gone. I wasn't in the mood for one of her lectures.

My mother came back and handed me a glass of water. I didn't waste time, nor did I check it for any strange glow. I just gulped it down quickly, hoping that it would clear my mind somewhat.

"Thanks," I muttered, putting the glass down.

"If you're quite ready," agent Z said, "Then maybe you can tell us how you got into the Ghost Zone the second time and found Tucker Foley here."

I had already told a censored version to detective Raskin, so I repeated it to the large GIW agent. I had gone to our camping spot near Lake Eerie to hide, and a portal had opened. I had simply stepped inside, expecting to find Tucker there and I did. Unfortunately, Walker had captured me. Danny Phantom had set us free and had brought us back to the church, where Tucker had rushed in and had been reunited with his family. End of story."

Agent Z shook his head and closed the notebook. "We checked the camping site," he said, "We didn't detect any ghostly activity there."

Incompetent, all of them. I looked at them, and for a moment considered telling them that. I only just managed to hold back.

"Behind the waterfall," I said instead, "Did you check there?"

Agent Z blinked, and then looked back at the GIW standing behind him. "Agent X," he said, "Look into it."

The man nodded, bent his head slightly to the side and spoke into what seemed to be some sort of microphone attached to his collar. Again, I wanted to laugh and again, I suppressed it. There was some movement by the door and it opened, showing two new agents, carrying in a crate. They were followed by two more, wheeling in some sort of device, about five feet tall, with all sorts of meters and dials. My father let go of my mother and jumped forward, eyes gleaming with interest.

"A ghost detector!" he exclaimed, "Is this the GD2000? I've heard about it. Can it really neutralize a class six ghost within a hundred yards? You know, I have a few ideas for that, in fact, in my lab..."

"We know all about your lab," the GIW agent pushing the device said impatiently, "And you're going to help us put this thing there. We are going to make sure we catch any ghost that comes out of your portal."

My father, still oblivious, nodded enthusiastically. I wondered what a class six ghost was and glanced at Tucker. He was frowning, a pensive look on his face. No help there. I sighed, leaned back and closed my eyes. I heard the GIW man and my father stumble down the stairs to the lab, and then their voices drifting up, my father's loud, the GIW man's soft and sounding irritated. I smiled. My father had that effect on people.

"Daniel."

I shot up. I hadn't fallen asleep, had I? I wanted to though. "Huh?" I asked.

Agent Z looked at me sternly. "Let's go over your story one more time. What did Walker say to you, why was he keeping you there?"

I thought about Walker. He had exploded nicely, showering us in ectoplasm. I felt like doing it again.

"I don't know," I said, "Something about breaking the rules. How am I supposed to know why a ghost does what he does?"

Oh, the irony. I knew exactly why a ghost did what he did. After all, I was one. Ghosts were obsessed, and Walker's thing was torture. And rules, of course, mustn't forget the rules. Rule five. No escaping. Rule number six. Disobedience of the rules will be punished. I rubbed my shoulder, where Walker had hit me with the nightstick. My mind started rattling out the rules one by one, and I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut and not simply recite them to the annoyed looking GIW.

He pressed his lips together, glared at me and then looked at my parents, closing his notebook. "We'll bring in the rest of our equipment now," he said, "Could you make us some coffee? You don't have to make us dinner, we've ordered catering." He turned to me. "You, go with agent X over here."

I blinked. Agent Z had already gotten up and turned his back on me. Hesitantly, I got up too.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked, "Are you setting up a rescue mission? Are you going into the Ghost Zone to get Sam? Because..."

I stopped when agent X started laughing. I looked around. The other agents were smiling, shaking their heads. My mother looked sad and shook her head. I didn't understand. Agent Z half turned around and raised his eyebrows.

"We are not going into the Ghost Zone," he said, "That is against the rules, and it would contaminate us. We're setting up a monitoring system though. If the ghost who has Miss Manson comes out, we'll grab him and make him give her back."

Stunned, I looked at his back as he walked out of the door.

"You mean," I whispered, "You mean you're just going to leave her there? You're not even going to try and find her?" My voice grew louder. "You're just going to sit here, waiting for him to come out? Are you that incompetent?! Are you that cowardly!?"

I staggered a little, but managed to catch myself before I fell down. "You... you..." Words failed me. I felt like blasting something, but that would be less than prudent. At least my hazed brain managed to control that much.

Shaking my head, suddenly feeling weary, I walked over to agent X, who looked at me in distaste.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Just follow me," he said, walking outside.

A little suspicious, I followed him. Outside, the long line of vans was parked along the curb, doors open, showing a multitude of GIW. I counted at least twenty of them, sitting in their vans, staring intently at screens, or standing outside on the sidewalk, glaring at the crowd that was slowly gathering around our house. Agent X led me all the way to the huge white truck at the end, rounded it and opened the doors, revealing a state of the art laboratory. He climbed in and I reluctantly followed him. I didn't close the door behind me.

"Sit," he said, gesturing at the shining stainless steel examination table in the middle of the truck. Fighting back the dizzy feeling in my head, I concentrated on walking to the table in a straight line. I hopped on and almost fell off on the other side.

"Whoa," I muttered.

Agent X turned around and stared at me. I looked back a little groggily. I really wanted to lay down somewhere and rest, but somehow the table didn't seem to be the best place for it. I shivered. Then I noticed the rather large syringe he was holding.

"Whoa, wait a minute," I said, jumping off the table and grabbing the edge to keep myself upright, "What is that? What are you going to do?"

"Anti-ecto contamination inoculation. You have been in the Ghost Zone, you are contaminated with ectplasmic radiation." He turned and tapped his finger against a meter. The needle shifted somewhat, but remained steady in the red zone. "Worse than your friend. We'll need to purge it out of your body."

I scrambled backwards around the table and stared at the syringe. It was holding a pinkish fluid, softly glowing. Anti-ecto... no way I was going to let him inject me with that. It might be fine for a human, but for me...

"I... I...I...," I stuttered.

Agent X advanced on me, rounding the table. I staggered backwards until my back hit the side of the truck.

"Don't make this difficult," he said.

I could clearly hear the menace in his voice. Everything started spinning around me. The only thing I could see was the syringe in his hand, coming closer and closer. Run, my brain screamed at me, run!

I turned, leaped out of the truck and started running.

I stared at the branches of the tree, admiring the way the sun flickered and glittered through the leaves. I was laying on my back in the grass on top of the hill, overlooking the railroad track and the outskirts of Amity Park. It was a nice spot, quiet and deserted. I could hear the sounds of the town, car horns, trucks, some hammering sound. Every now and then a train passed by, and every time it did I sat up and stared at the thing thundering by. Trains were fascinating. I wondered if I had liked trains when I was smaller, if I had ever wanted to become a driver. The way the thing kept moving, unstoppable, its wheels firmly on the tracks, crushing anything that got in its path...

I closed my eyes again and smiled a little, letting my mind drift aimlessly, carefully avoiding anything of the happenings of that afternoon. I thought about flying, searing through the sky, pushing myself harder and harder until I went so fast the world became a blur. I thought about fighting, about blasting ghosts, about the rush it gave me. I thought about not doing those things because of the number of GIW in town.

I just laid there, waiting. I had no idea what I was doing anymore. I couldn't go into the ghost zone, not with the GIW inside our house, watching for ghostly activity. I didn't even know if it was safe for me to return there, if I could sleep in my own bed. Going out tonight, taking the Specter Speeder to find Dora was completely out of the question, and for that I was mildly thankful. At least it would keep Jazz out of the ghost zone. We would have to wait for Tucker to finish his work, and then I had to figure out a way to get into the Ghost Zone... or at least, find a way to circumvent Vlad's security and go into the Zone through his portal. Because that was the only other way, except for some random portal opening somewhere (and I wouldn't know when and where that would happen, if at all), or trying to create one myself.

Another train approached, and I sat up again to watch it pass by. It was a long freight train, seemingly endless, and I looked idly at the passing wagons. It was so long I couldn't even see the whole thing at once, the head of it had already disappeared behind some buildings before the last part of it appeared from behind the hill.

Creating a portal myself would have to be a last resort. Because I really didn't feel like doing any more damage to my head than I already had.

I sat up straighter and dug into the pocket of my cargo pants that held the small bottle of vodka. I took it out and studied it. About two third of it was gone already, and I still had to get through the night. If I was going into the Ghost Zone tomorrow, in search of Sam, I would need to rest. The previous night had proved I wouldn't get it on my own.

With a sigh, I shoved it back into my pocket. I didn't feel as woozy as I had before, and my head had cleared a little. Not much, but enough to realize I was in trouble. Jazz was sure to have noticed something off about me, and my mother had been giving me these strange looks all the while agent Z had been questioning me.

Crossing my legs and leaning my elbows on my knees, I contemplated the situation. Any which way I turned it, I was screwed. But maybe I could postpone their undoubtedly overreaction until after I had found Sam, at which point all their objections to my choice of sedative would be moot. They'd find me a new psychiatrist, I'd agree to see him or her and be as meek as a sheep.

Of course I had conveniently forgotten about Vlad.