Part three... Man. I've wasted my ENTIRE Saturday.

Three Months and Counting
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Maddie

My son was the ghost-boy.

My son was a hero.

Somehow, when I finally found out he was the ghost we had been hunting, I wasn't nearly as surprised as I should have been. Somewhere, deep down inside of me, I had known. It made sense and it explained so much. I never questioned it for a second.

It hurt so much having my little boy taken from me. I never could tell him how proud of him I was. I was never able to tell him I was sorry.

As January turned to February, I slowly fell out of the fog that had enveloped my mind. There was no sign of Danny anywhere, no clues, no nothing. He was declared dead… we had a funeral… and still he stayed away. Bit by bit, my boy vanished from my everyday life. It came to the point where I could go for hours without thinking of him and where he might be. As painful as it was, this losing of my child, it was also a relief. I was moving on with my life.

March was roaring in when I finally cleaned out his room. So much dust had collected on his stuff. Danny's things went into a few boxes in the attic, mostly stuff I wanted to keep to remember him by, but a few thoughts as to what he would want if he came back to us. At first it ached every time I walked past his empty room, but even that feeling faded. Finally, I made it through a day without my missing son disrupting my thoughts.

Then came the day when the phone rang and my carefully reconstructed world crumbled.

"Danny," I whispered as Jack pushed open the door to the vice-principal's office. Mr. Lancer was watching me, concern in his eyes. Jack stood in the doorway, not moving. "Jack," I said, pushing against his shoulder. Still he didn't move.

When he turned around, I saw the heartbreak in his eyes. I knew the room was empty. "Danny," Jack muttered brokenly, his hands hanging disconsolately by his sides. I threw my arms around him and pulled him into a hug, hiding my own pain-filled face. He patted my back emotionlessly a few times, then pushed me away. "I'll be in the RV," he said softly and wandered down the hall.

I watched him go, shaking my head sadly. As much as it hurt me for my son to not be there, to still be gone, I knew it had to be worse for Jack. He had never truly gotten over Danny's disappearance and had been strongly against cleaning out his room a few weeks ago. Jack still woke up every day hoping that our child would walk through the front door. He never said anything, but I knew him – he wore his thin-skinned emotions on his sleeve. This would break his heart all over again.

Mr. Lancer was looking in his room, confusion on his face. "I don't understand," the man murmured, glancing back at me. "He was here."

I walked into the room and sighed, examining the empty room. Struggling with the thick mist that was attempting to trap my mind, I tried to figure this out. I did believe the teacher; he really thought that Danny had been here. So either the man had been hallucinating or something had really been here.

Almost without thinking, I pulled the portable ghost tracker out of my belt and switched it on. It beeped softly, sending back an image of ectoplasmic emotional energies. The room seemed to glow and shine on the screen, items that people had strong emotional attachments to glowing brighter than the more average items. In the center of the room, the simple chair that was set up facing the vice-principal's desk was shimmering like a small star. I strode up to the chair, carefully scanning it.

"Mrs. Fenton?" the teacher asked, wrinkling his forehead. "What's going on?"

I slowly switched off the tracker and put it back in my belt pouch, staring at the chair, my thoughts sputtering and drifting. "There was a ghost sitting in this chair," I whispered. At least, I think I whispered it. It might not have actually made it past my lips.

"What?"

"There was a ghost sitting in this chair," I said again, a bit louder.

Mr. Lancer nodded absently. "Yes, Danny was here."

I bit my lip, shaking my thoughts straight. "I'm not sure…" I trailed off, gazing around the room, refusing to meet his gaze, trying to fight the emotions that were flooding through me. "I'm not sure a half-ghost could create that much spectral energy…"

"What do you mean?" he asked softly.

Turning, I walked out of the room, ignoring the teacher. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. After a moment, I slid down the wall and let my head thump back against the hard tile, tears glistening in my eyes. There was no way a half-ghost, half-human could generate that quantity of energy in that chair. The only thing that could would be an actual ghost.

The tear that had threatened escaped my eye and raced down my cheek. This was the worst scenario I could possibly imagine. My son wasn't alive, the pain of that realization stabbing into me like a horde of hornets. Danny was a ghost, one of my spectral foes, his personality twisted and corrupted to the point where I would have to hunt him. Maybe not yet, but soon he would begin to feed off of emotions and would start to scare humans in an attempt to get that energy.

With a sinking stomach, I realized that maybe he had already reached that level. Fear and terror are not the only emotions ghosts feed upon. Many ghosts, such as that psychologist ghost, lean more towards despair and depression.

A sad smile flickered across my face. If I was right, between Jack and me, Danny was probably feeding quite well right now. My son was always smart; this was a genius plan.

The bell rang and a herd of students flooded into the hall, so wrapped up in their high school lives that few of them even glanced in my direction. I waited for the halls to clear out, only a few stragglers meandering towards their classrooms, before standing up and heading outside.

As I paced towards the door, I readied myself for what was coming.

Tonight would be my last hunt.

Written March 3, 2007
Coming soon... part four...
Thanks for reading!