Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Wish I did, but if wishes were horses…
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-Chapter
1-
-Smoldering-
It ripped through his heart; he felt its roar in his lungs, the incessant climax bearing down, roaring through his veins. Though he couldn't hear himself with it pounding in his ears, he screamed.
mine…
Like a flash flood it decimated his soul, scattering debris of memories, washing away deeply-rooted morals. Falling to his knees his eyes poured waves, pale imitations of the tsunami battering his body. No part of him was spared. Then as the agony crashed through him, the wave collapsed on itself.
my fault…
Danny Fenton was lying on his side, trembling and drowning in the wake. His sanity scrabbled for purchase, seeking a constant, an anchor, a raft, anything to keep him above the riling depths of pain.
how...?
His eyes flitted about the smoldering remains of his parent's lab. Ghost-hunting equipment was scattered, lying in pieces, ectoplasm seeping out of cracked casings. Among the piles of now-useless junk, was an intact cylinder, with green buttons and a glowing display.
The Fenton Thermos.
That thermos that had sent hundreds of ghosts to the Ghost Zone. The thermos that had saved Amity Park by sucking up the ghosts Danny had faced. That thermos was handled both expertly and incompetently by Tucker…
Danny recoiled at the mental recall of his friend's name. His body involuntarily flinched and fought a spasm, caught up in the memory…
Tucker-has-the-thermos-watch-out!Sam-kick-him-for-me-wait-a-minute-hold-it-for-a- second-now-now-Tucker-now!SAM!TUCKER!
"NO!" he cried through his lacerated throat as his back arched with pain, not all of it emotional. The howl, barely recognizable as human reverberated off the walls.
Danny held his knees tight, rocking. Two bright blue rings of light flashed. His ebony hair bleached white, his eyes clenched tight against the light. If there were anybody left in the lab, they would have sworn his jeans and white T-shirt were replaced by bloodied black lab suit. If his eyes were open, they would have seen glowing green eyes trying not to overflow with tears.
Silently, in the depths of his psyche, Danny Fenton's sanity slipped beneath the water.
Danny Phantom's green eyes burst open. With a certainty that was not entirely sane, he floated over to the half-crushed storage closet where Danny Fenton's parents kept their more dangerous - and effective - inventions.
To end this…
… to stop the pain….
There was only one thing Danny Phantom could do.
()-()-()-()-()-()-()-A/N:Interested? Shall I continue? Critiques/beefs are welcomed, just no flames. (Though I may use flames to roast marshmallows…) This is the sum of a: late night + too many cups of tea + a poetry assignment + a muse with a wonderful sense of timing and priorities.
