Disclaimer: Danny Phantom, the world set within it, and the characters in it are not owned by me - that privilege belongs not only to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon, but also just as importantly to the vast team of co-writers, co-directors, animators and all other staff who laboured over its creation and development. Without their efforts this fanfiction would not exist, and neither would a good portion of what struck me in the first place in one of the most childhood-defining cartoons in my life.

"How's the progress?" she asked, taking a sip of milk as her eyes gleaned over the screen.

"Still slow," I answered, my hands still gripping the edge of the table. It was hard to make the effort to speak up given the fact that we were smack in the middle of the bustle of the cafeteria. "There's not enough people to spread the site, and there are still way more petitions to arrest m… him."

She groaned in frustration. "This isn't going to pan out if this keeps up," she surmised. "Where's the statistics for the page?"

"I have the admin key, do you mind if I login?"

She instinctively made space for me as I began to enter the credentials, but I saw her frown at me in the corner of my eye. "You better not dirty my laptop with your hands after eating, Fenton."

I stared at her expressionlessly, my eyes flickering back and forth between her and the empty space on the table in front of me. It took a while, but when it registered in her eyes her expression deflated.

"Oh."

"It's fine."

It still felt weird, holding the phone of my crush and entering my credentials in, a task proving itself to be unexpectedly difficult. I could attribute that to my fingers just trembling, and to the suddenness of which I was given this chance. Probably to at least a couple of other things too.

"You know, Fenton?"

"Danny."

"... I feel like if I call you Danny I'd just get confused between you and Danny Phantom."

I hesitated, pursing my lips. "Danny," I repeated quietly.

"... I've been thinking. We need something big to happen to actually get something out there."

"What do you mean?" I pressed the enter key, and entered the admin panel. One glance at the statistics and I internally winced. It would take a delusional type of optimism to spin the traffic as anything worth talking about.

"I mean something eventful has to happen, any of his heroic acts basically." She explained. "Just capturing it on social media, of him beating the bad guy might sway other people."

"You want to set a ghost free?" I balked, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

"No! I mean… not really? How would I even do that anyway, even if I wanted to?"

My expression soured; she shook her head and pressed on.

"I'm just saying when the time comes it might be opportune to build his reputation more. So I want to be ready with people to capture the moment when it comes."

I turned my attention back to the admin panel. Several negative comments - flagged out automatically by Tucker's moderation settings - lay in the delete queue, but eyeing them only further injured my spirit.

'What kind of autists run a site defending a serial killer like him? To justice, or not, then to death with him.'

'He almost killed our mayor, he tried to kill my father, and now he's killed Miranda Meyer. F off.'

'You're stupid if you think he's a hero. If he is, why has the only thing he's done been causing damage to Amity Park and threatening our lives? Enough with this bullshit.'

It's like the wind was taken out of my sails, like a balloon popping within me. A part of me wanted to do exactly what Paulina does, who reached straight for the track pad, quickly deleting the comments and banning the users, but at the end of the day, what would that even accomplish? Just maintaining this place as an echo chamber - a small one at that, dampening the effects of these echoes anyway - wasn't going to solve the problem. Anyone who had already decided I was the villain was not going to change their minds from just this site existing.

It's also one thing to hear from my parents how much they wanted to kill me. It's another to hear total strangers air their ire out like dirty laundry even in places like these… not like Sam and Tucker hadn't been shielding me from social media in order to prevent the exposure to such things. But that obviously didn't change the fact that such opinions existed. At all.

"Fenton, are you… crying?" Her voice was now a whisper, and her eyes darted around the vicinity.

I wiped my hand reflexively across my eyes. "S-Sorry," I muttered, even when I saw nothing. What was going on here? If Paulina found out how attached I was to this situation she might just figure out my secret. Already Jazz and especially Sam had been vocally, overly cautious, not to mention outright defiant, of the idea of Paulina helping us. I mean, the reason should be obvious, and not only because of their distaste for her treatment of me beforehand. How could they trust her? How could I, dumb and smitten by my own 'abuser', trust her?

She eyed me anxiously, and my mind could not help but flicker over to worst case scenarios. Did she know? Did she just think I was weak, or pathetic, or a complete waste of this God's green resources as we all know I am? Was she now just looking out for her reputation, being seen with a sniveling good-for-nothing?

She exhaled, closing her eyes momentarily a little longer than usual before opening. "I think… I think I get it," she empathized. "I'm really pissed too about those idiotic comments, they're just too much... but we both know they're not true."

"Yeah," I concurred. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm not sure why, I just feel like - I can't imagine what it's like, to be made out to be public enemy number one when you're trying to save the world."

"I know." Her voice was angry, but in a sturdy resolve, as if she knew that justice was going to arrive swiftly. "It's okay, Danny. We'll fix this together."

All I could really do was nod, and say "yes".

As she continued to lay out details - something about a possible press conference, or an interview of sorts - I could espy from the corner of my eye, people stealing glances in our direction, not the least of which were the other popular kids who I knew were secretly denigrating her popularity status. It was difficult not to blame myself for this, dragging her specifically into my mess.

Still, admittedly this entire experience had been surreal to the point of disbelief. Back maybe years ago I would have not even have dreamed of being able to communicate with the girl of my dreams like this, and now here I am helping her help myself, I have exchanged text conversations with her - and this was as me as a human.

And then…

"How's the site, guys?" Tucker queried innocently, walking with Sam to our usual table. His eyes peered over to the laptop; he immediately sported a frown upon ingesting the statistics. "Oh."

"We have to increase the spread somehow," Paulina said, running her hair through her long black locks. "Isn't there a way to publicize it? Maybe post it on advertisements or something?"

"Doubtful," Sam scoffed, sitting next to me. "Wouldn't that just make people who were more on the fence about him just feel annoyed?"

"Well," she challenged, shooting her an icy stare. "You got any better ideas, Manson?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked, Paulina. I still think this site is a waste of time," Sam sighed, sticking a spoonful of salad vegetables into her mouth. "You really expect that there's enough of a groundswell to get people up and defending him?"

"I know," she snapped. "I've been just thinking… perhaps we just need to wait for an incident to come around to build social media rapport for him."

"That's what we also think," Tucker concurred, quickly scarfing down his own food and speaking between bites. "But-... *gulp* you know, that's just out of our control."

She scowled. "Do you have another solution, then?"

Sam, Tucker and I exchanged glances of discomfort. "No…" Tucker muttered in defeat.

"I was thinking that you really have to flip the narrative here," Paulina continued. "Get him on camera or something, get some support aired on the news, there's bound to be sympathizers to get on his side."

"Don't you think that's rather selfish?" Sam countered, refusing to look her in the face. "Making use of other people to further our agenda? Besides, how are you even going to do that in the first place? It's not like you know his contact or whatever."

"I have my means." She closed the laptop, tucking it away into her bag. "And how is it selfish if I'm not even doing it for myself? I'm doing it for Danny."

"Doing what for who?" I heard a gruff yet nasally voice behind me, and a fresh infestation of fear instantly crept upon me. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. "What are you doing here, Paulina? You should know more than anyone else that sitting with these losers is such an awful look."

"They're helping me with something," she answered with a muted annoyance. "For Danny Phantom? The ghost boy?"

"That murderer? So, wait, now not only are you sitting with these idiots but you're sitting with these idiots to help criminals?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes tight. "Dash, I don't have the time to explain, so I'm sorry, but - if you're not going to help us then could you just leave us be?"

He rolled his eyes. "So I'm the villain here, huh? Just because I'm looking out for you? Lovely. Whatever. I just wanted to ask where you want to go after practice today. There's like a French cafe that opened recently if you want some tea or whatever."

"Umm… about that..."

"'Um'?" he quoted back at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Paulina twisted her lips uncomfortably, blinking rapidly and withdrawing herself like she was attempting to look invisible.

"Oh don't tell me," Dash slunk his head back in disbelief. "You're ditching again? And you're going to make me take the fall for you from your own coach, again? After you promised me you would come, literally just today?"

Paulina exhaled in what I could only describe as sheer agony, running a hand through her hair. "Dash, I-, I'm sorry, I just-"

"Paulina Sanchez, what the actual hell has gotten into you?" The ludicrousness of it all began to seep into his voice. He stepped closer to her, hovering his face nearer to hers. "Ever since that girl got killed, you've been busy covering up for that ghost asshole and not making time for anything else. Come on, you gotta snap out of it, stop this - , this... this stupid shit, okay? Join the rest of society?"

"You don't get to tell me how to live my life, Baxter." she retorted in frustration. "Okay. From now on, you have my express permission to live your own life without me. Is that good enough? I don't ask for much, Dash, you don't have to join me on my 'stupid shit', but all I ask is you let me be if I let you be, okay?"

He scoffed, his eyes darting now to the rest of us, and his irritation blossomed into rage. "Jesus Christ, what did you assholes do to her? You put drugs in her food or something? Micro-chipped her brain, huh? Spill it this instant!"

I shriveled up, huddling my arms to my chest as I surveyed around me. Sure enough pairs of eyes were now boring through us, gossip was fluttering around about us. But this was far from Sam and Tucker's fault, after all. I dragged them into this. It's pretty much just my fault… again. But what could I even say? There was no way he'd even entertain the thought that she was the one who asked into our business, not vice versa. Another fruitless pursuit to tread.

"... she's helping us." My voice came out almost like a whisper. "I'm sorry, that's just the way it is. If you want to blame anyone, just blame me, okay? You mind letting us, just, carry on with our business? I mean - Paulina, do you want to discuss more about the conference? Perhaps we could use the IT room to check the availability of-"

"Stop with the bullshit, Fenton." His volume raised, lurching forward before lifting me by the collar of my shirt. Jesus, did he ever get tired of this shtick? "You call off this clown show right now, or you'll regret it for the rest of your graciously shortened lifespan. Tell her or I'll grind you into a pulp right this instant!"

"Dios mio, what part of this don't you get?" Paulina shouted, her face now contorted in a menacing vexation as she rose to her feet to face him. "He's not a slave driver, Dash. I'm not some pawn that people just drag around the chessboard when they need me, contrary to what you think. I do what I goddamn want. You want to punch someone in the face, it should be me. Let him go."

"Ah, can it, you little bitch. You know, Fenton, your grip on her is so much worse than I thought," he deluded. "But you seem to have forgotten a pretty cardinal rule, haven't you? She's mine, not yours. You better undo whatever the hell you did to her, you stupid scrawny loser!"

…

...What?

He really said that?

I had no idea what had gotten into me. Obviously I knew that his punch was coming, but it might have been adrenaline or simply every reflex and muscle memory from ghost fighting kicking in. The moment my eyes caught the pulling back of his arm, and the moment a part of me finally got fed up with being under his thumb, I didn't quite hold back. I veered my head right and felt his fist rush by my left, and bucked my legs forward to meet his chest. The impact alone made him release his grasp, and I landed on my feet again, and seeing his face of utter shock made it worthwhile. You could imagine, anyway, how normally I would have to pretend that I didn't gain all of this dexterity and strength from my double-life as a ghostly villain - but of course, something was so obviously different this time.

I wanted so badly to just play chicken - it would have been easier, too, to just run, or hide somewhere and vanish and go back to the rooftop or some other dilapidated area. That would've been the safe option. But a vindictiveness coursed through me and suppressed any logic or appeal to safety completely. Before he could recover and swing his other fist, I ducked my head in and jacked it straight into his chest. You could imagine too, how I had headbutt some of the strongest ghosts across the Ghost Zone in all my skirmishes, and how this same headbutt sent the strongest and most popular jock flying across the room.

If the attention hadn't been focused on us yet, it was like every spotlight on earth pointing straight at me now. I knew at this point a couple of teachers would come in - I mean, Dash can push me around perpetually and the one time I serve a comeuppance, I am the only one who gets punished, that would be the classic. But at this point I was beyond caring.

"Danny!" I heard Sam exclaim, who jolted towards me, shielding me from Dash - or rather, shielding Dash from me. "Danny, stop."

"Ugh… you piece of shit," Dash groaned from across the room, meeting my unwavering, combative expression. "Fine, you wanna die on this hill? Face it, even if you hit the jackpot and win, you injure the school's most prized quarterback, you get suspended or expelled, that's your life. You still wanna go? We can freaking go. Or if you're a giant pussy dickwad you can run away with your tail between your legs."

I stared at Sam, who seemed more invested in making sure nothing happened and that everything would stay the same, and then at Tucker, who seemed more helpless than anything, and then at Paulina, who looked into my eyes and almost wordlessly pleaded for me to have some sense. As much as I hated to say it, Dash was right. I could fight him, and I could win, easily. But what would have been the point? What was the saying, win the battle, lose the war?

"All I'm seeing is you're down on the floor, and I'm walking away," I spat at him. "I don't see how this isn't beneficial for me."

"Oh you run, then," he taunted. "You know any day of the week you'll be on the floor with your face pummeled in and your stomach kicked like a soccer ball. Tomorrow you better knock some sense into Paulina here or you'll get it."

Maybe I shouldn't even restrain myself. How easy was it to knock his teeth out, and flip the tables on someone that has tormented me for almost my entire high school life? If anything his words were his saving grace - he was right, there was no way the school would stick up for me. There was a difference between letting the status quo jam its thumb and revolting against it: only the latter seemed like it was the true injustice. Never in my life, however, had I been this close to throwing caution to the wind like this.

But then, a cold breath spilled from my mouth, and I knew that every other thing had to wait.

"Sam, Tucker," I beckoned, and they understood immediately. We bolted out of the cafeteria before we heard the screams. Somehow we all had the same mind as we ran towards the isolated corner, where people wouldn't even think of looking as they escaped.

Strangely, ever since that incident, transforming never felt the same. Jazz had asked me once after she had learnt my secret, how did I voluntarily transform back and forth, and oftentimes I could only say that a cognitive switch had to be flipped within me. Since that day, though, becoming Danny Phantom left a residual heaviness, almost like a headache but one that stilted the rest of my body as well. Of course, there was something there that was missing that I had no choice but to conclude that another thing had to be present when transforming.

Willpower.

Eyeing around the cafeteria, I knew that this was going to be a swift operation. This particular ghost wasn't quite as strong - probably only a few iotas tougher than the Box Ghost - but he was still dangerous if left unchecked. Already several tables had been flipped over - thankfully with only a couple of minor injuries, with the aid of Sam and Tucker's evacuation, but I could see several still trapped hiding. This had to be nipped in the bud quickly.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Paulina's expression, and even there was something different. I'd been so used to the starstruck wonder and the mesmerization that she had shown me all these few times, but now that has melted into a relief. Was it that she had been so used to me or known all of my flaws that her illusion had been shattered? Or was it that her infatuation had matured into something more formidable? I could only hope it was the latter.

"Alright, alright," I began, a little more retired than I usually would be. "Just cos' someone pissed in your Cheerios doesn't mean that you need to take it out on a bunch of high schoolers, ya know."

The spectral octopus took one glance at me, before hissing menacingly and slithering towards some of the students, much to my dismay. I flew towards it, swiftly sending a jab to its left and causing it to fly into the wall. Quickly I scanned the area - the rest of the students remnant here that didn't evacuate were mainly at the corners. I sent a foot into the monster's head, knocking it down further with an excruciated groan.

"Come on now," I coaxed, leaning my arm on my knee pinning it down. "Aren't you tired of this? You're O for what, 17, 18 now? I dunno, I'm not as good at math as I am in kicking your butt. There's no shame in quitting, though, give up when you can."

It gazed at me with furious eyes - not like it could speak words, but my mind registered its next move before I could react or before he could act. He wrapped a tentacle around my ankle, flinging me away too weakly to actually pummel me into the wall but enough for him to make an escape and wriggle towards his victims.

I fired off ectoplasmic rays at him instinctively, and instantly my pupils shrank as I watched them miss and leave black marks onto the floor. I stopped in my tracks. If those rays had hit another person… I had to be less careless. No matter what. He looked back at me momentarily, with a smirk in its eyes that was clearly meant to taunt me, before continuing onto his next victim. I shook my head, trying to clarify my vision and clear my head. He swiped at a couple of tables, and the body behind ducked to the right, narrowly avoiding the hit. Focus, Danny, focus. Lives are at stake here.

"Ahhh!"

A familiar shrill voice rang, and I whipped my head around. The octopus was making its way towards Dash Baxter - still slightly shaken by our bout just now, now on the floor helpless and awaiting his doom. I groaned; Get out of the way, you moron! I internally shouted, but I still felt myself locked in place.

The octopus wrapped his tentacle around Dash, and the look on his face - the sheer terror, the lack of blood around his cheeks, the motionlessness and helplessness of his stature now constricted by someone more powerful than him. There was a part of me that was rejoicing, admittedly in shame, in how priceless this was. This was my opportunity. Maybe he'll become a Miranda and get his just desserts. Who would really know the wiser? All those years of being under his thumb, all those years of having the trump card but being forbidden to use it? How much worse could my reputation get, anyway? And besides, if a tree falls in a forest...

I shook my head, and sped towards him again. This wasn't the time to be a scumbag. I swooped in front of Dash, shooting the octopus point blank in the face, sending him back. I had to put a stop to this right now. I made my way to him again, landing a few more blows onto his head while deftly avoiding his tentacles. Some days these could be knotted together, but the most efficient way would be to just beat it in the head until it got tired.

I pinned it down with my feet, leaning my weight onto my elbow perched onto a bent knee. "Any last words?" I asked, slightly bored as I dangled its familiar home of the thermos in front of its face. It stared at me, more annoyed than anything, likely after its umpteenth time of getting its ass handed back to him.

A flash illuminated the space briefly, and I turned my head to see Paulina, behind an overturned table with her phone in her hands. Her expression, confident and jovial as always, quickly melted, and she made a dash. Before I could even register it, the monster from beneath me freed itself from my grasp.

A cold, dark wave washed over me, and I knew at that point of time, again, I had to do something. I had to do it right, as well. There wasn't really any time to think at all - the look of fear that dawned upon Paulina when she realized she was cornered jolted my instincts straight into action.

My heart was pumping as I fired off the ray, having used a brief respite to recollect myself and take aim at the octopus. The ectoplasmic energy collided with him, and he landed on his top. The exhilaration mixed with relief that washed over me felt like holy water, but there was no time to process it. I rushed over and pointed my thermos at it, wasting no time in opening it and shining a ray of light at it, where it slowly dragged the ghost in, molecule by molecule. There wasn't a time to be reckless now - even moments after it had been sucked in and after I had capped the thermos, my eyes gazed around the scenery, with a strange paradoxical mix of focus and blankness. The kids still stuck in the cafeteria began to emerge from their hiding places, slowly at first, but soon enough, the fact that they were safe again began to dawn upon them again.

"Anyone here injured?" I called out, with no response. Instead, the remaining kids murmured among themselves, some expressionless but some with creeping smiles stretching across their faces. Some of those who evacuated even began to enter again, their eyes fixated on me, gleaming in wonder. Instinctively, I turned to Sam and Tucker, who donned smiles on their faces as well - but it was Paulina who made her way over to me, leaping to wrap her arms around me.

I could espy at the corner of my eyes Sam's disgust and Tucker's astonishment, as expected, but there was something about her embrace that was less… fanatical, something less emotionally distant, like as if she fit into my arms effortlessly. I couldn't help but return her embrace.

"You did it again, Danny," she beamed, nuzzling her face closer to mine. "See? You really are a savior to us. And you know? This time we have it on tape."

My eyes scan around the room again, and sure enough, a couple of students - students that I recognized from agreeing to sign our petition and give us supporting social media for me, showing others their phone screens to examine the footage of the skirmish. It slowly began to dawn on me - very rarely were there actually witnesses to the deeds that I had managed to do without people hiding in fear and trying to preserve their own lives. But this time, with multiple cameras recording the footage… this would be a far cry from what happened back then.

Paulina pulled back slightly, letting me see the photos she had taken - clear shots of me ragging on the octopus, of sucking him into the thermos. I knew in my heart these would be circulated throughout the Internet for sure, around various social circles. It felt strange, to have such an elation in my heart that didn't quite feel like exhilaration or lightning-in-a-bottle as I would have hoped. It felt more like relief, of course, but it felt like a gentle, feather-like happiness that comforted me from the inside.

"I-... t-thank you, Paulina," I muttered. My vision began to get blurry with the bits of moisture welling my eyes, but I blinked them away. Undoubtedly this would help - Lord knows if she had staged it or if she had been prepared for something like this in the first place, but at this point, I didn't really have it in me to care.

She chuckled softly. "We were lucky this time... but this was all you, Danny."

The words flew off my mouth, but at this point I didn't really particularly care. "Your eyes."

She looked at me a little bizarrely. "What about them? Something in them?"

"No, I just… they're so beautiful to look at."

Never once did anyone - not my parents, not Jazz, not Sam or Tucker, not even myself - had given me such an immense amount of credit for the deeds that I had done. And to hear it for the first time, it filled me with such a fuzzy warmth in my chest that it made my heart skip a beat.

In the heat of the moment, I wrapped my arms around Paulina, feeling the fuzzy warmth of her body on mine, letting the rate of my heartbeat decelerate to her own rate. I wished I could have this feeling forever - of course, it would be more sensible to remain altruistic in complete purity, to never expect anything out of my good deeds. But here I was reminded how human I was, how inevitably attached I was to emotion. Some days I really needed something to keep me going.

Some days I really needed to feel loved.