A/N: Man, I've left you guys waiting for way too long. I'm sorry!

You know what I find really funny about the previous chapter? It wasn't supposed to be that good. Really, I have trouble imagining Danny being a good writer, and his creative writing assignment came out far better than it was supposed to. Oh well, I was running under the assumption that he'd spent a lot of time on it, and I do rather like it, so I suppose it's okay.

Writing this chapter was extremely awkward because I had to do it differently than I'd been intending from the get-go. Basically what happened is that I'd written myself into a corner earlier, and in fixing it I wrote myself into another one.

Joy.

I'm kind of dissatisfied with the second section of this chapter. It feels a little awkward to me, but then, I often seem to dislike things in my writing that others do like. I know that I feel like I didn't spend enough time on it (probably something to do with the lack of serious editing), but I really wanted to get this chapter out.

Oh, and every one of you should be really thankful to Narugirl94, because she really helped keep me going on this chapter.

Anyway, huge thanks to all my readers and reviewers!

Enjoy!


Chapter Seven: Mental Exercise and Artistic Appreciation

Humans are truly fascinating creatures, capable of great feats of both logic and imagination. They are also, in some inevitably ironic way, completely blind to even the most obvious things if those same things fall into the category of 'impossible.'

Say, for instance, that magic was actually real. Humans would probably never realize that magic did, in fact, exist, unless it literally hit them over head with a sign that said 'Magic is Real!' and even then many people would deny the truth of the matter.

Now Lancer was better than most when it came to his knowledge of the universe. He was extremely well educated, which is to say that he knew just enough to realize that he really didn't know very much at all. Knowing about the existence of ghosts also helped. Yet Lancer was still human, which is why he was currently very frustrated.

It doesn't make sense.

Turning the unopened sketchbook about in his hands, Lancer examined it as if the black binding held the answers to existence. For all he knew it did.

He'd taken the time to go home before sitting down to think, and, in an out of character moment, he'd disconnected the phone as well. He didn't want to be disturbed, that was true, but he also didn't want to be discovered.

It was silly, but he felt that what he was about to do was in some way intrinsically wrong. But he was sorely lacking in other options.

He knew a few things for sure.

He knew that he had seen Phantom drawing in this sketchbook in the park. He knew that Danny's creative writing assignment had dropped out of it. He knew, now that he thought about it, that Danny had told him that he had lost his sketchbook, with said assignment, in the park.

From there he could extrapolate that the sketchbook in his hands mostly likely belonged to Danny Fenton. The question then became why was Phantom drawing in it?

That Phantom had it was less odd. The ghost could easily have picked it up from where ever Danny had lost it. But to draw in it?

Lancer supposed it could have been just an odd fancy on Phantom's part, or maybe he was simply bored. But it didn't fit with what Lancer knew of the ghost. His gut was telling him that Phantom would have simply returned the thing to its proper owner, or to the park's lost and found if he didn't know who owned it. That is, if it was a simple matter of having found a lost item.

Mr. Lancer had learned to listen to his instincts.

There was another possibility, that the sketchbook really did belong to Phantom and that what the ghost had found was just the creative writing assignment alone. Maybe he'd stuffed it into his own sketchbook with the thought of returning it at a more wholesome time of day.

That made a little bit more sense, but still didn't feel right. In that case what had happened to Danny's sketchbook, and why was it separated from the assignment?

There was also the matter of the assignment itself. It was beautifully written, it was, in fact, the best work he'd ever seen from Danny. It also tugged at the heart-strings, leaving Lancer wondering how much of it was just a story, and how much of it was Danny talking about his own life in metaphor. What could possibly be going on in the young man's life to trigger that kind of emotion?

Though it was really a separate issue, Lancer found that he couldn't make his mind detach the assignment from the whole sketchbook question.

Lancer shook the thoughts from his head, he'd been over this already and was now just going in circles.

There was at least one question that could be resolved fairly simply.

Laying the sketchbook on the table, Lancer took a deep breath and opened it.

For a moment, Lancer just stared down at the book, before a burst of laughter escaped him. This is just ridiculous.

He'd opened it upside down.

Still chuckling at his own moment of stupidity, and now far more at ease, Lancer flipped the sketchbook around so it was facing the right way.

The inside cover held no drawings, but there was an inscription there, written in what Lancer recognized as Jazz's handwriting.

Dear Danny

Since you're always sketching away on every piece of paper that gets near you these days, we thought that you should probably have a proper place to put all those drawings that seem to jump out of your head.

We're always here for you .

Love,

Jazz, Sam and Tucker

P.S. Tucker wants me to make it absolutely clear that the love thing is purely fraternal on his part and should not be misinterpreted

"Okay, so this definitely belongs to Danny," Mr. Lancer muttered aloud. "That still leaves the question of why Phantom was drawing in Danny's sketchbook."

There wasn't a ready made way of answering that particular question, even if he leafed through every page of the sketchbook and somehow managed to find the correct drawing there was no guarantee that it would tell him anything at all about the ghost's intentions.

Sighing, Lancer got up from the table and wandered over to the fridge.

Having retrieved a can of pop, the high school teacher leaned his back against the kitchen counter and stared into space.

So now what?

Rightfully, he knew he ought to take the sketchbook and return it to Danny immediately.

It was just . . . the sketchbook was sitting open on his table. And Danny, though human, was almost as much an enigma as Phantom.

And you might as well admit that you're dying to see how good an artist Danny actually is as well.

He'd only ever caught small glimpses of the boy's work, and though he wasn't much of an art connoisseur, what he had seen had impressed him.

Would it really hurt anyone to take a look?

If life was a cartoon, Lancer was sure that right at this moment there would be a miniature devil version of himself standing on his shoulder egging him on. But this wasn't a cartoon, this was real life, and there was just Lancer and a sketchbook belonging to his most elusive student.

And there was a limit to how good a person Lancer was capable of being.


A few minutes later Lancer was sitting in his favorite chair - a large plush leather thing - guiltily perusing Danny Fenton's sketchbook.

Danny's an obsessive sketcher, he noted with some amusement.

The pages were almost completely covered, seemingly with whatever Danny could get his hands on, pencil, pen, paint, marker, charcoal and in one case, crayon.

There was even more variety in the subject matter that Danny drew (or painted, or whatever). There were whole pages of things like human hands in different position, studies of facial expressions, and quick sketches of body parts (there was one page covered in nothing but eyes).

There were also plenty of drawings of everyday items, like books, pens, Tucker's PDA, and even what appeared to be a half eaten Nasty Burger. There were trees, rocks, birds, bits of landscape, telephone poles, houses . . . just about everything imaginable was crammed into the white space on the various pages.

But it was the drawings that didn't share page space with other drawings that made Mr. Lancer pause.

There were full flushed out artworks of super-heros, amusing multi-panel comics staring caricatures of people Danny knew (an example of which included an odd little one of Dash being beaten up by a mouse, Lancer wasn't quite sure what that one was about), beautiful sketches of various locations around Amity Park, one picture that Lance was sure was a blueprint of a spaceship, and a rendering of Puck from Midsummer Night's Dream which made Lancer wonder if perhaps Danny payed more attention than he appeared to.

Most impressive were the images of the people in Danny's life.

Of everything in the sketchbook these were the most detailed, the most lovingly done, and, in Lancer's opinion, the overall best. There were things like Jack punching out a ghost that looked like a vampire, one of Maddie posing with a staff, Jazz studying, Tucker with his PDA, just to name a few.

Of course, there were also pictures of Sam, and if Mr. Lancer had even a whisper of doubt left that Danny loved her those images completely dispelled it. He'd spent a full ten minutes just staring at the one of Sam laughing, it had captured something that very few people saw in the Goth.

There weren't any of Danny himself, though Lancer supposed that it was probably very difficult to draw yourself.

And then there were the ghosts.

Lancer had to admit that the ghosts surprised him, he really hadn't expected them, despite the huge role they played in the life of Amity Park and in the life of the Fenton family in general.

Pages upon pages were filled with pictures of the ghosts. There were even captions naming the ghosts and explaining the scenes, which was exceedingly odd, though Mr. Lancer had enjoyed the one labeled 'Technus vs the Box Ghost: Who Will Win Most Annoying of the Century!' Apparently I was mistaken in thinking that Danny had no interest in ghosts.

Though it is weird that there haven't been any pictures of Phantom. I wonder why . . . Shaking in head in confusion, Lancer flipped the page.

Another gho . . .

The teacher paused mid-thought to stare at the picture in front of him.

He knew this image.

Very slowly a grin spread onto the middle-aged man's face. Well, then. That's interesting . . . I'll have to remember to talk to Mr. Fenton about that. Picturing the look on Danny's face when he told him caused the grin to spread even further.

Continuing his perusal of the book, Lancer realized that there couldn't be very many unused pages. He was nearing the end and almost every little bit of space was being utilized, either with sketches, or with notes on the sketches.

Danny was meticulous too, even quick sketches had a sense of completeness to them, nothing was left hanging.

Except this one.

It was on the rough outlining stage, but looking at it Lancer realized that what he was examining was actually a picture of himself.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, the teacher took in the image of himself standing in front of class with a book in left hand and expansively gesturing with the other one. Danny had captured him in a moment of lecturing his students. From the detail present in just the outline, Lancer realized that Danny had intended this to be one of the heavily detailed drawings which had been dedicated only to people Danny cared about throughout the rest of the book.

Clearing his throat slightly, Lancer flipped the page, only to find it blank. Maybe the picture of me was the last one? A quick leaf-through the last couple of pages confirmed that.

The teacher closed the sketchbook and laying it to one side leaned back into his chair, closed his eyes, and mulled over what he'd seen. Danny definitely has talent, as well as dedication and drive. I wonder if he's planning on pursuing art as a career . . .

Enjoying the silence and the moment of relaxation Mr. Lancer allowed his thoughts to drift. I never did notice which one was Phantom's. There was nothing notably different about any of them . . .

Actually, that's not true. There was one. The picture of me, it was the only one that was unfinished.

Lancer frowned slightly, That doesn't make any sense. I mean, admittedly Phantom was in the middle of whatever he was drawing, so it would be incomplete, but why would he draw a picture of me? Besides, it was in the exact same style as the rest of Danny's drawings . . .

A thought occurred to him, causing his eyes to snap open.

But . . .

"But that's not possible!"