42. Standing Still

Nobody noticed it at first. He was small, he had always been small. And scrawny. He'll grow, they'd said, look at his father, it's in his genes, just watch. One day, he'll shoot up, he'll be six feet four, tall and handsome and strong. He's only fourteen, so what if he's the smallest boy in his year, barely as tall as his best friend Sam Manson. So what if his other best friend, Tucker Foley, is now four inches taller than he is. Just wait. It's only a matter of time.

They were still saying it when he turned sixteen, although now some people raised their eyebrows in surprise when they learned his age. He got his driving license easily, but got stopped by the police so many times because they thought he was underage that he gave it up altogether and resorted to flying everywhere when he couldn't get a ride. He stayed small. If they didn't know any better, people would have thought he hadn't aged a day since his fourteenth birthday.

The day before he turned seventeen, his parents spoke to him of their concern, suggesting a visit to a doctor to find out what was stinting his growth, expressing their concern that it was something ghostly. He listened to them quietly, without protest. He didn't tell them he was fine, didn't tell them he didn't want to see any doctor ever and most certainly didn't tell them he was part ghost.

On his seventeenth birthday, he disappeared.

They looked for him everywhere, his parents, the police, even Vlad Masters. He was never found. His friends and his sister seemed to take his disappearance in stride, quietly going about their ways, always sad, avoiding other people. Their friend, brother was gone, there was nothing they could do about it, he had made his decision. The police questioned them, sure that they knew something, but they stuck by their remarkably consistent story.

Danny had been using drugs. He had hung with the wrong crowd, drug dealers, gang members. The drugs had stinted his growth. He had fled because they were after him. End of story. And the story made sense to the police, even though his parents were adamant. Danny had never used drugs. But, the police said, the parents are always the last ones to know. The case was closed.

Life went on. Sam and Tucker graduated high school, then Jazz graduated college early and went to study para-psychology. She published several standard works on the subject, and two best sellers in which ghosts were explained to the general public. She moved away from Amity Park, got married, had three children, two red head girls and a dark haired boy who was the spitting image of his uncle.

Fifteen years after her brother's disappearance, she returned to her place of birth, having just gone through a rather nasty divorce, deciding that returning to her home town, close to her parents, was the best way to get back on her feet again. She bought a house close to that of her parents, opened up a new practice and quickly settled back into the town.

Years passed. Her children grew older, her son entered Casper High School, her practice thrived. Ghost still visited the town, but were efficiently and quietly dealt with. Her father tried to interest her children for ghost research and she let him talk, knowing now that the man's obsession with ghosts would never go away, that he was still looking for his son. The son everybody long thought dead.

The boy entered her practice as he always did, through the back door. She didn't look up from her laptop, typing up a report of her last client, wanting to at least finish the sentence before she talked to him. He sat down quietly and waited, a faint smile on his lips. Finally, she looked up.

"Hi, Danny," she said.

"Hey Jazz," the boy said, giving her a goofy grin.

They smiled at each other.

"Any unusual ghost fights lately?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. The usual. You know. Skulker, Desiree. The Box Ghost. Some big snake that caused trouble in the mall. You must have read about it."

She nodded. For a moment, worry flashed over her features, before returning to her usual neutral mask she always wore whenever he visited. Just like he did. He got up and started moving around her office, picking up things and putting them down again.

"People got hurt during that snake attack," Jazz said.

Danny nodded absentmindedly. He held up his hand and furrowed his brows. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a small ice crystal appeared, having a slight green glow over it.

"Look," he said. He placed the crystal on her desk. Then he stepped back, stared at it for a moment intensely, and the crystal started to hover. Jazz raised her eyebrows.

"New power? Telekinesis?"

Danny shook his head. "Nope. Can't move stuff, not like the Box Ghost can. I still haven't figured out how he does that. But I can influence ectoplasm from a distance." He made the crystal rotate rapidly. Small drops flew off it and hit Jazz in the face.

"Hey! Cut that out," she said, covering the papers that were laying in front of her.

Danny laughed. "Aw Jazz, stop being such an..."

"Adult?" she said dryly.

He was quiet. Then he laughed again. "Right," he said.

He dropped down in the chair and put his legs over the armrests.

"I saw Jack the other day," he said casually.

"Jack as in my son Jack?" Jazz asked.

Danny grinned. "Did you know Paulina has a daughter?" he asked, "About fourteen? Attending Casper High?"

"You didn't..."

Danny smiled and waved his hand. "Nope. Just watched. He has a serious crush on her. I did go and talk to her for a bit after he left though."

"Danny!" she said warningly.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jazz, I can talk to people. It's not like they know who I am. Nobody knows me."

They were silent once again. Jazz fiddled with a pencil. A truck drove by, making the vase in the window rattle for a moment.

"No regrets?" Jazz asked.

Danny didn't move for a moment. She always asked him that, and it always signified the end of their conversation. Slowly, he let his legs fall down from the armrest, sitting up straight. His eyes darkened for a moment, looking strangely old in that young face. Then the smile was back. He got up.

"No regrets," he said, as he always did.

The two rings appeared around his waist, one traveling up, one down. Danny Phantom hovered in her office now, and she shivered from the drop in temperature. She expected him to disappear, as he usually did, just going invisible and disappear from sight and moments later she would know he had left because the chill had left the room, but this time he remained a little while longer.

"I'm a ghost, Jazz," he said, his voice now sounding eerily hollow and ghostly, "I died twenty three years ago. Maybe it's time to stop standing still."

The chill in the room suddenly had nothing to do with the ghostly presence anymore. Jazz's eyes went wide when she realized what he was saying.

"No," she said, "Don't say that, Danny, you're not dead."

His eyes glowed brighter. "We knew this would happen," he whispered, and the sound of his voice seemed to come from all around her, echoing off the walls, "There's not much humanity left in me. I can pretend to be human for a little while longer, I think, but the zone is pulling."

A breeze rippled through the room, lifting up some of the papers on her desk. The cold intensified as the ghost in the room continued to radiate power.

"Goodbye, sis," he said.

She never saw him again.