I think I first saw this idea in a post by show-phantom-ideas on tumblr.
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Lightning
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Normally, Mr. Lancer would have been home by now, but he had made the terrible decision to agree to tutor a student at the school this evening and they had never shown up. He wasn't sure what he had expected, honestly. If they had been responsible, they wouldn't have needed tutoring.
Lancer pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. It wasn't as if he never offered to tutor students before, but the others usually scheduled their meetings right after school, and called ahead if they were going to miss. Even Daniel Fenton made an effort to actually show up. When he wasn't distracted by playing video games.
At least Daniel tried when he was in class. This-
Mr. Lancer sighed, angrily. He was just working himself up, at this point. He should go home. He began to rise from his seat.
As if to mock this decision, lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a deep rumble of thunder.
Hm. Driving in that would be unpleasant. His lesson plans could stand some work. Just until the storm moved past. Or until he couldn't stand to be here anymore. Or until the storm knocked the power out.
He sat back down, heavily. He'd be eating takeout, tonight, it seemed.
Lightning and thunder continued to flash outside, the rain pounded on the roof, and the wind wuthered around the corners of the building. It was, in a word, noisy. The lights also had a tendency to flicker just a little bit after each strike of lightning.
So he didn't notice, at first, the tiny whimpers that followed each boom and crackle of the thunder. But sometimes a pattern becomes too much to ignore, even for overworked, underpaid, overtired teachers like Mr. Lancer. He paused in his work, listening.
Strange sounds at night could spell real danger in this town. Lancer carefully pulled open his desk drawer, and took out the tiny ectoblaster he had finally talked the school into letting him have after he'd been forced to drive off the Box Ghost with nothing but a rolled up newspaper.
The sound was probably just the wind blowing through a poorly fitted window or something similar, but it payed to be prepared.
Mr. Lancer moved carefully around the room, pausing to listen when the thunder struck. He tracked the sound to his classroom's small supply closet.
Probably not a loose window, then.
Bracing himself, he threw open the door.
Despite the lights being off, a soft glow came from the corner of the otherwise dim closet. A ghost had wedged itself underneath the shelving there, his knees drawn to his chest, hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut.
Not just any ghost. Phantom.
Lightning flared through the classroom windows, and Phantom visibly flinched. When the thunder roared a moment later, he flinched again, producing the sound that had led Mr. Lancer to him.
Lancer was at a loss. Phantom was a highly dangerous ghost, but he had protected the school on numerous occasions, and right now...
Well. If he looked past the glow, Phantom was of an age to be one of his students. And he was obviously frightened.
Lancer knelt on the closet's threshold. "Phantom?" he asked, softly.
The ghost's eyes sprang open immediately. A strangled sound emerged from his throat. "I-" he said. "I didn't know you- that anyone was still here," he said, before jumping at another lightning strike.
"I'm usually not," said Lancer, unsure how to broach the subject he was currently interested. "I was supposed to tutor a student this evening, but they never came."
Something like guilt passed over the ghost's face. "Fenton?" he asked.
"No," said Mr. Lancer, putting aside for the moment the fact that Daniel Fenton's delinquency was known even to ghosts. "Phantom, why are you here?"
"I can leave, if you want," offered the ghost, immediately. He made no move to extract himself from his hiding place under the shelves.
"No, I'm just... curious," said Lancer.
"Oh," said Phantom. "Well. I was-" he jumped at the flash of lightning. "I was fighting Ember, in the park, and the storm came up and- and this was the closest building I knew- I thought would be empty. Storms and flying things, you know?" he shrugged. "Not com-" the thunder struck, and Phantom jumped hard enough to hit his head on the bottom of the shelf he was under. He moaned.
"Phantom," said Lancer, feeling, for a moment, stupidly daring, "are you... afraid of lightning?"
The ghost regarded him balefully for a split second, and Lancer feared he had overstepped, but then the ghost looked away. There was, he noticed now, a slight tremor in Phantom's limbs.
"I didn't used to be," said the ghost, quietly. "Before... It reminds me of how I died."
"You were struck by lightning?"
"No. Just, you know, electrocuted." He shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it." More lightning, another flinch. "Look, I won't bother you. I just want to stay here 'til the storm ends." Thunder rolled. "Ancients, it's getting closer."
"I used to be scared of storms, too," said Mr. Lancer.
"So did everyone," grumbled the ghost. "They're big and loud and unpredictable. People- People grow out of it."
"Sometimes," said Mr. Lancer.
"Pl-Please don't give me a lecture on facing my fears," said Phantom. "Like, half of my enemies have electricity powers. I deal with it. I just. If you- Can we talk about something else? Something- Distract me."
The last was halfway between an order and a plea. Lancer cast his mind out, and it latched on to the lessons he was just writing. He was a teacher.
That seemed to be a good choice, because Phantom seemed to calm as he listened. He even slipped in a few questions and jokes.
Eventually the storm moved off.
"I should go, now," said Phantom, pulling himself out from under the shelves. Lancer stood as well, his knees protesting loudly at the sudden movement. "You should go home, too. It's late." He began to fade, the edges of his form becoming transparent. "Thank you for helping me," he said, just before he disappeared entirely.
Mr Lancer blinked at the empty closet. "You're welcome," he said.