Tumblr didn't exist back in 2003/2004, which is the time-set of this oneshot, but let's just ignore that for now, okay?

MELTING THE DEFENSES.

"It's difficult to have a foot in more than one world. You get immersed in one, and unintentionally forget about the other. To be a halfa, or just a person stuck in two areas of life, you need to be a serious multi-tasker. Danielle's just starting to learn this. I hope she takes it well."

–Daniel Sabastian Fenton-Phantom.

Danielle sniffles into her napkin. It's gross. It's dinnertime. She'll kill her appetite at this rate. Why does she have to have a cold? Well, it would be dinnertime, if she hadn't come home (home!) so late.

There's a sticky-note on the fridge door. Help yourself to some food, Danielle. It's Damon's handwriting. Her legal, adoptive father. In Dani's mind, Danny, her originator, is more like a father to her than Mr. Gray, and especially more than Vlad had been. She doesn't like to think about Vlad. She's grateful for Damon's concern, anyway.

They've gone to bed.

Or, maybe…out.

Danielle can tell, just by looking around, that this is a new house for them. Either that, or they just like to shove most of their possessions in moving boxes normally. Hey. She's seen freakier. She ain't judging.

She opens the fridge. Not for food. She's not hungry. She might've stolen a tray or two from the Nasty Burger behind some customers' backs. It isn't the first time. She's burning up, she's been active all night. The cool conditioning of the refrigerator helps. A second later, she's smacking her forehead–the stinkin' freezer would be better, won't it? Idiot!

"Are you alright?"

Dani jumps. "Damon! Uh, Mr. Gray!" She still feels weird calling him by his given name. Good thing she wasn't stupid and forgot to transmorph from specter form, again.

"I'm coolio!" She chirps. "Um. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he reassures, "I'm just glad you're home safe."

Home. To him, this is her home.

Uh…

It'll get that way? Eventually? Sure it will! Um…

Good thing Axion Labs hired Damon again, or he never would have afforded it, and then she'd never have gotten the chance to try like she does now. Or, at least, that's what Valerie says.

He looks like he wants to say something.

"Soooo."

He smiles. Encouraging.

"Sooo yeaaaahhh. School starts for me tomorrow, right."

"Summerschool; it certainly does. Do you think you can handle it?"

"I handle everything else," yeah, right, "I bet ya two dollars."

That raises a brow. "You have two dollars?"

"…Nope." She doesn't even understand how money works. "Maybe that's something I can learn."

"How to get two dollars?"

"No, I mean…well, yeah. How to get a job and not break the cash-register. That's what I meant."

He rests his chin in his hands. "Hoo boy."

"I know, right?"

Summerschool sucks the balls of the parasite-consuming fish attached to hippopotamus anuses. Danielle takes immense pride in her ability to formulate unique expletives.

First, the special-ed class is right across the hallway from hers, and that wouldn't be so bad if they weren't so loud, and to top the cherry icing on this cupcake–that's the correct phrase isn't it–Danielle is stuck with all the bitchy girls in transparent low-cut blouses and silken leggings. Leggings. Aren't they kinda young for those? This isn't freakin' Church Sunday.

What's more, they have every free right to be pretty. They're charming and perfect and going somewhere with their full-lives. And they're cheerful. Ugh. It is disgusting. Ewness!

They have free time at the moment while their teacher and her teacher-assistant set up today's powerpoint. Danielle's already introduced herself, being met only with investigating gazes into her very soul, by the quieter, meaner-spirited ones, and friendly waves from the slightly less self-centered ones. She herself is trying not to talk much. It's like with that guy on Animal Planet who hangs around a pride of lions and does his best to stay obscure and uneaten. If you don't get mixed up with them and their drama, maybe they won't skin you alive with their horrifying daggers of femmy–femininininit–knit–newt?–how the hell is that even pronounced–

Feminine-ness.

If they're all so good, why are they here? Oh, she sees. They're just trying to, "learn more," pssh. A true adolescent flees all semblance of a decent education like the soles of their feet are on fire. Disgrace! Disgrace, she says!

Oh, you're in A.P. classes, wow! Dani grumbles to herself, That's so cool, but I can walk up the stars backwards, in the dark, with a glass full of water, and sometimes I don't spill it! She's never gotten along very well with other people of her gender. No girls are in her friend circle except Sam Manson, Jazz Fenton–her technical big sister?–and, more recently, Valerie Gray. Valerie is a long story, kind of an awkward one, because how many kids live with someone who looks at them with a hint of fear whenever they bring up how fun it is to fly?

How many?

Okay, the humor defenses aren't working as well anymore…

She asks for a bathroom break. Once she's in there, she heads straight for the nearest empty stall, transmorphs–the sound of the heater is enough to override the distinct shing of the blue-white rings which form at her waist–well, more specifically her hips, boys like Danny and, er, Plasmius are the ones whose transmorph-rings naturally start at the waist–one of those stupid boy-things–anyway what was she doing?

Oh, yeah.

She's ditching class.

What? Don't look at her like that. You would, too.

She floats to the roof of Casper High and just kinda keeps floating there for a bit.

For a while she doesn't really think of anything. Then a thought comes to her.

Why is she so insane? She hates herself. She really does. Seriously. Her jokes only make sense to her. Good thing she has a little common sense and keeps it on the inside most of the time. Valerie might assume the spontaneity comes from the, "crazy ghost," side in her, and close herself off from Danielle even more.

"I'm so naturally funny," Dani says to the air, "because my half-life is a joke." She's not alive, though, is she?

Don't speak that way about yourself, a familiar, extremely familiar, teenager chides in her mind.

That's easy for you ta'–

"I don't think you're a joke," comes the voice of her originator, most definitely not as faraway as it was before.

"HOLY SHIT DUDE." Danny jumps at her sudden rise in octave, "SO TOTALLY UNCOOL."

He recovers so quickly that she witnesses a spark of herself. Or, is it that she's the one with his spark? No, shut up. Don't dwell on it. Was that a flash of disapproval in his face at her cursing? "Do you need my help?" The fighting she's not so good at anymore, stabilized or destabilized, but she can sit on the bench and provide cute commentary! Totes! It's not like Danny can keep his mouth shut during a battle any more than she can.

Danny's eyes narrow. That is not what he came here to talk about. Then, he seems to think about it, "In fact, I do, actually. I have an extremely important favor to ask of you."

Danielle swears that her brain, her slow, confused, increasingly depressed brain flickers to life, and she eggs him on, "Yes, good, continue."

She can tell that he obviously finds her really weird right now but he does continue, "It could determine the very fate of Amity Park and the Ghost Zone."

"Okkkkkkk."

"I want you…"

"Go onnnn…"

"To stay in class."

All at once, the fog clouding her mind materializes again and she marvels at the way the concrete sidewalk feels against her slack jaw miles and miles below them. "Wh-wh-wh–"

"You heard me." He is smug.

Oh, god. Oh, god, no. This is terrible. This is spiraling beyond control. He thinks he's clever. This cannot be allowed to last longer than five Spanish minutos.

"Are you a wizard?"

"No?"

"Because if you're a wizard that means I'm a–"

"Shut. Up."

"Well, that's great, Dan." She crosses her arms across her chest so fast it makes a whipping sound in the air, "That's just great. First I almost sleep in before the school-day starts, then Cujo comes rampaging through my room and I have to like smack him so he doesn't wake Val and Mr. Damon, oh, and–" Danny's green eyes go wide.

Heroism mode: activated.

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Danny holds up a hand, "What the heck are you talking about?" He actually censors hell. She's touched. And two-hundred-percent done with his overprotectiveness. Cheezus.

So maybe Danielle activated a tumblr blog a couple months ago on Val's laptop. The darn thing is useful.

"How many times have I told you that I've told you this many times?" His clueless blinking is more than enough recompense for his unabashed silliness. "Cujo is pretty much as obsessed with me as he is with you, O Man of Dan."

"He chases you around, too?"

"Yuppers."

"Crap," he tugs at his hair slightly, "Crap, crap, crap."

"Is it really so bad?"

"Well, yeah. Valerie hates the poor mutt. She might think he's trying to hurt you."

"True, true. But. I've been trying to talk to her and say that he's just as stupid as he looks, and, y'know, not all evil and stuff–"

The bitterness, and abruptness, of his answering laughter catches Danielle off guard and perturbs her. "I've been telling her that for years. You wanna know where that hole in his ear came from? Her."

"…Oh."

"Yuppers," he mocks. She doesn't acknowledge it. "I know you don't wanna stay here. I know the fakeness of it all drives you nuts, when you know you could be out there with all the people who really know who you are. Trust me. I get it. But you gotta go. If I do, then you do, Dani."

She studies her feet. "Easy for you to say. You don't have summerschool."

"Not now. I do towards the end of summer." He informs her easily, as if he isn't describing something as graphically torturous as schooling. Dani's surprise is evident, and he goes on, "You better believe it. It's hard to ace a test when you're thinking of ways to keep the school janitor from being decapitated." She doesn't know that feeling. The most holding her back is her own laziness and unwillingness to study the day before. She makes up excuses and lies around, no matter how depressed she might be becoming–that's a setback for other people but not for her–meanwhile Danny sits up awake in the dawn hours stressing over how he tossed Mikey Baker or some other random student out of the way too hard and now they have a huge ugly bruise on their back, and it's all his fault. What if he broke someone's spine?

Dani realizes how miniscule her worries are.

"What I'm saying is…"

"You want me to attend school." Her tone is even and flat. Danny looks her dead on, and the relief on his face is so fresh and genuine she wants to hit herself. She caused him this worry.

"You have no idea."

She nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She answers wordlessly, transmorphing and sinking back down into campus.