'Lost' the imaginary chapter 42, since Nylah hasn't actually written it yet and it's bugging me, as imagined by me. The story NEEDED AN UPDATE. I'm sorry!

B'sides, I /think/ she gave me permission to write what I think comes next. (:

Nylah owns the idea to 'Lost', which is a fanfic I'm absolutely addicted to. To those of you who haven't read her work, here's a short recap, though I recommend reading the whole thing for yourself: Danny was captured by Walker and forced to learn to create ghost portals. He does, only it steals his memories every time he creates one. He used the ability once to escape Walker, completely destroying his memories and creating a huge mess of depression and PTSD. He eventually goes back to rescue Tucker, then Sam. After finding Sam, (at the end of chapter 41) he creates a ghost portal and pulls her back to the human world. He falls unconscious.

This is where she leaves us. /frustrated/ So this is where I pick up the story.

Chapter 42
A 'Lost' Danny Phantom Fan-Fanfic by Cordria

Sometimes computers get really bad viruses. The easiest way to fix them is to simply start over – to erase the past and start fresh. Of course, with computers you have back-ups of all your files and easy-to-install programs. It usually only takes a few hours before your computer is back to the way it was… sans virus.

Human minds are not all so different, really. Wiping and reinstalling the basic operating system takes a bit more work and files are so easily lost during the reboot. Memories vanish like misplaced documents and simple knowledge disappears in the blink of an eye, never to be replaced. There is no system for backing up human memory.

In my case, I didn't figure I had all that much that I cared to lose. In fact, I was rather happy to see them go. Even as I instinctively fought to keep as much of myself as I could, I felt my world get lighter and more pleasant as the worst of the memories vanished from my mind.

Reboot. Restart.

…Who am I?

--

"Danny… Danny, wake up."

I shifted a little on the soft bed, not yet ready to open my eyes to the strange voice and the blazing light of the sun. Besides, she wasn't calling for me – I wasn't this 'Danny'. A groan escaped my mouth and I moved my head to the side, searching for a place that wasn't nearly as bright. I wanted to go back to sleep.

A cool hand touched by forehead and I blinked my eyes open. Everything was blurred and chaotic and my eyes stung. It took all my concentration to focus my eyes on the fuzzy object leaning over me. Brown-red hair. Blue shirt. Unfamiliar face.

The woman smiled at me, relief and tears mixing in her eyes. "Oh, Danny," she whispered, running her hand lightly through my hair. "How are you feeling?"

I gazed at her blankly for a long moment, processing that. She was talking to me, she was addressing me by the name Danny… why was she doing that? "My head hurts," I tried to say, but my tongue fouled up in my dry mouth.

She stood up for a moment and I felt a quiet sense of loss when the solid warmth of her left my side. I'd known this lady for a whole of ten seconds and I already felt some sort of attachment to her, strange as it may sound. As she poured a small glass of water, I looked around the room. It was empty, except for the two of us, and that caused a stir of emotion in me.

Shouldn't my family be here? I contemplated that, reaching out to gratefully accept the glass of water the woman was holding out to me to drink and allow her to help me sit up. Who was my family, anyways? I knew I had one, I had to have one, but I couldn't remember who they were.

I lowered the empty glass down to my lap and stared at it. I didn't know who my family was. The thought made my stomach churn painfully.

Avoiding the lady's eyes and her repeated question asking me how I was feeling, I looked around the tiny room. It was a hospital room, I figured. I didn't know where or why I was in it. Perhaps I had hit my head.

"Danny?"

"Why are you calling me Danny?" I asked, turning to look at her and hesitating when I saw the look in her eye. She looked broken, somehow. For some reason, my question had snapped something inside of her.

She swallowed and blinked tears out of her eyes. "What else would I call you?" Her voice trembled.

I thought about that for a moment. What was my name?

What was my name?

I heard the paper cup crumple and I looked down, vaguely surprised to see that my hands had turned into fists. My hands were shaking in my lap, dark spots swimming before my eyes. "My head hurts," I whispered, answering her earlier, safer question.

Another hand appeared in my vision, reaching over to gently work the cup out of my grasp. "You want some more water?" she asked softly.

I looked up at her, seeing the tears that were running down her cheeks and wondering why. I shook my head. "Who are you?" I finally asked.

A small smile appeared through the tears and she lowered herself onto the bed next to me. An arm wrapped around my shoulders. I shivered unconsciously at the act, for some reason uncomfortable with being held. There was something wrong, something that had happened. For reasons I couldn't understand, I felt like I didn't deserve it. "My name is Maddie Fenton," she said slowly, quietly. "I'm your mother."

The sentence didn't jive quite right. I felt nothing for this unfamiliar person – how could she be my mother? Weren't you supposed to love your parents? I knew that I was supposed to love her – there was a whisper in the back of my mind that I needed to remember that I loved my parents. But this woman… this 'mother'… was just a body.

For a few seconds, I tried to think of something to say to express what I was feeling, but I let it die in my mouth and just allowed her hold me for a moment. Silence was okay with me. It was easier than speaking, sometimes, and it seemed as though she needed something to hold.

"You did a good job, Danny," she whispered in my ear. "I'm proud of you."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but whatever it was that I had done had landed me in a hospital. I couldn't imagine any parent being proud that their son ended up in a hospital bed. "Oh."

She pulled away from me at that, moving so that she could see into my eyes. I glanced at hers, then looked down at my hands, uncomfortable. I wanted to stay like that, allow her to say whatever it was she had to say to the top of my head, but I felt a hand on my chin pulling my head upwards.

"You don't remember it, do you?"

I shook my head.

She bit her lip, looking down and then back up at me. "And you don't remember who you are either," she breathed.

Again, I quietly shook my head. I could see the tears in her eyes again, threatening to cascade down her face, and I was surprised to find my own vision blurring. I wasn't sad, like she was. I was feeling the start of something very much like terror curling around inside of me.

It was the lack of knowledge, I thought. It was scary not knowing so much. It was terrifying knowing that there was an entire world missing from my own mind. I was angry that I didn't understand and that I couldn't figure it out on my own when I should have been able to.

I could have given in to that fear and anger. I know that I could have; it wouldn't have taken long for it to well to the surface and consume me. I could have lashed out, trying to rid myself of the clinging emotions, desperate to find a way to understand, terrified of the dark emptiness in my own mind.

Instead, I looked at the woman who was claiming to be my mother. I wasn't alone; I didn't have to be scared. She would tell me and clear away the darkness. "What happened?" I asked. "Who am I?"

"You saved your friends' lives," she whispered, reaching up to brush away a tear from my face. I hadn't realized I was crying, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she spoke. "You almost died doing it, Sweetie. I was so afraid that I would lose you." Her hands were trembling. "I watched that ghost attack you with that sword and I thought I was never going to see you again."

I didn't try to process what she was saying – it sounded like a lot of nonsense with ghosts and swords – and just stayed quiet, hoping she'd say something that would spark a memory inside of me.

"And when you vanished with Sam, Tucker figured out exactly where you'd gone. You were back in that cabin again. Back where you appeared the first time." She smiled at me. "You were unconscious when we got there; Sam was so worried. We brought you here, but the doctors said we couldn't do much but wait for you to wake up."

She took a steadying breath. "As for who you are, you're my son. Danny Fenton. You're seventeen and you're a hero, even if you don't remember it."

I thought about that for a moment. I didn't have much of an idea who this Sam was, or Tucker, or the cabin she was mentioning. Sam was a girl, I was almost positive of that, had vibrant violet eyes, and a strong dislike of dragons. Tucker liked red. The thought of cabins made me shiver, although I didn't know why.

The name I'd take, though. Danny Fenton.

I let it settle down on my shoulders like a mantle, accepting it as mine. Until someone with a more logical story came around to refute the name, that much I would take as fact.

The yawn startled me almost as much as it did Maddie. My eyelids felt heavy as I scattered the information I'd been given around in my empty head. "Danny Fenton," I repeated, almost liking the way it sounded in my mouth. Just for a moment, it felt right.

"The doctors said you'd probably be tired for a few days, after all you've been through," she said softly. "You should get some rest, Sweetheart."

I agreed with that – I did feel tired. Now that she'd chased away some of the emptiness by giving me back my name, I allowed myself to feel the exhaustion that was biting at my heels. "You're going to be here when I wake up?" I asked, feeling a moment of fear that I would be alone when I woke up.

I didn't want to be alone. They would get me. My heart started to race at the thought of them, even though I didn't understand who they were.

"I'll be right here," she answered solidly. When I laid back down against the pillows, she ran her fingers through my hair a few times and repeated herself, almost as if to reaffirm it to both of us. "I'll be right beside you, Danny."

My eyes closed for a moment and I relaxed, starting to drift off to sleep, but then I remembered something. "Are you really my mother?"

"Yes."

"I was supposed to remember to tell you something," I said sleepily. I blinked a few times, focusing on her face as I struggled to remember what it was I was supposed to say. "It was important. I wasn't going to forget."

She smiled, her fingers still gently running through my hair. "You can tell me when you wake up, Sweetie."

"I was supposed to tell you that I love you," I said as my eyes closed and sleep started to claim me, dragging me into the emptiness of my own mind. "And that I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," she whispered. "And I love you too, Danny."

I think I mumbled, "Good," but my mind had cast free from my body and wrapped itself in dreams filled with valiant knights, evil dragons, and usurping kings. And flying. I loved flying, now that I wasn't quite so lost.

Uploaded August 15, 2009
Sticky gooey what-ever-ness. I got a date to go get ready for now. Later!
Thanks for reading!