Saving Sam: Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks much to all reviewers: autumngold, Sakura Scout, The Cheryl One, cheerin4danny, and Wiggle Lizard. I give you another evil short chapter. Ah, but after this, the deluge.

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Danny woke up, startled into consciousness by his alarm. He looked at the clock. It was already ten o'clock. He would see Sam at twelve o'clock. Danny jumped up and threw on some clothes. He checked around for Jazz, not knowing what more he could say to her if he found her, but she was gone, probably at school. He gulped a brunch of cereal and pop-tarts had flown halfway to Tucker's house before he remembered the thermos. He dashed back for it and eventually arrived on Tucker's porch.

Tucker answered the door. "You ready?" Danny asked.

"No. Are you?" Danny shook his head. He was smiling broadly, but his eyes stared wide and panicked. "Danny, why don't we walk this time? You've been in ghost mode too much these days."

Danny shrugged and zapped back to his normal human self. Tucker lingered in the doorway. "Should we get anything other than the thermos?"

"We'll probably only get one shot with whatever we use on him. The thermos is our best bet."

Tucker considered this. "OK. Let's go."

Neither said anything on the walk to Stacy's Cafe. Both were thinking about Sam. Tucker hoped that she was still alive. He had been through a good deal with her in the midst of Danny's adventures. She was a good friend, if a little too idealistic at times.

Danny too couldn't help himself from wondering if Sam was alive, and if she was alive, if she had been able to hold out against Alex. Every once in a while, he forced himself to stop thinking about it and look around, but the reality that had comforted him seemed to have taken a day off. In the light of Sam's imminent return, reality seemed hollow, an ally that had retreated to the sidelines to cheer but not to aid.

They came to the cafe. Tucker checked his palm pilot for the time, and the bright display, blissfully unaware that lives hung in the balance, faithfully reported that it was eleven forty-nine. They sat at a table. Danny looked at his hands. He flexed them, watching the tendons stand out and retreat back. He fisted them. It didn't matter what the ghost had done to Sam; he would restore her. It didn't matter how his feelings for her had changed, they wouldn't distract him. It didn't matter if a fight broke out that destroyed half the city. This was about saving Sam, and he was ready to give up everything to make sure she came back.

Tucker saw Danny's face harden. He opened his mouth to ask if he was alright or if he wanted anything, but he thought better of it. Tucker returned to playing with his PDA in silence.

Jazz showed up at eleven fifty-four. She walked over to their table and sat down.

"Whatever happens," she said, touching Danny's shoulder. "I trust you and I'll support you, and if anything bad happens I'll never blame you."

He looked up at her, searching her face for sarcasm. Satisfied, he nodded. "Thank you, Jazz."

A blue mist curled up from Danny's mouth at twelve o'clock exactly.