Is There Still

6

If revenge were an option, Danny Fenton would have butchered Vlad.

But when he'd been alive, revenge hadn't been a driving force for him, and even fully dead, knowing that the only other halfa—now the only one period—in existence was responsible for his murder, he still couldn't bring himself to seek vengeance and disregard everything else. No, he would have to comfort himself with knowing that his family, his mother, now knew everything about Vlad Masters, Vlad Plasmius, and would never give him a chance at her like he wanted.

Badly enough to kill. Or perhaps Danny was just that big of a thorn in his side.

But taking out the anger, the rage, the pain and sorrow and unending hurt on the one who had inflicted it was out of the question. It would put everyone he loved in danger. Mortal danger, since Vlad now had nothing to lose, with his mom so far removed from any positive emotion toward Vlad. And Sam. Especially Sam. And he could never put her in danger, not like that, not just for petty revenge.

"Sam," he breathed into the chilled air as he looked down at the lights of Amity Park. His face was still wet, his eyes still burned, but the air as it moved past him was taking care to dry tears, soothe his eyes as he watched.

The desire, the need, the want to see her was an ache inside his chest. To talk to Sam, to tell her he knew what happened, what he saw. That he loved. Because that was where the worst pain was coming from. The piece of him that called him a million kinds of fool for not telling her, for letting fear rule him and make him run from telling Sam that he loved her.

And now, he would never hear her say that she loved him. Not when it mattered at least. After all, what kind of relationship could he have with her when she was a live and he wasn't? It would be cruel. Better that he leave Amity before it came to that, to protect her from the pain.

But the only thing Danny could think about as he slipped through the wall of Sam's house, was how badly he just wanted to see her.

And to have his heart, or what passed for it in a ghost, stop at the hysterical sobs that echoed in her room. It was dark, unduly so, and Danny reached a hand behind him and twitched one of her heavy purple drapes aside to let a little light fall in. and there, on the bed, was the girl he sought, stretched out, arms clutching a pillow, face buried into it as her slender shoulder shook and heaved as she desperately tried to hide the sounds of her crying.

"Sam," Danny said softly, painfully.

Her face flew up from the pillow, pale cheeks flushed, eyes blurry and red, face damp with tears. "Danny?" she whispered uncertainly. He nodded and before he could blink she had flown at him, her arms wrapped tightly at his waist as she cried again, harder this time, or maybe it only seemed so since nothing was hidden from sight or sound.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed against his chest as he brought gentle hands up to her shoulders. "I tried. I really, really tried, but I can't do it. I can't be strong anymore, it hurts too much."

"I'm here," he whispered pitifully as he pulled her to him, burying his face against pale skin where her neck met her shoulder, trying not to feel the hot warm wetness of tears as they soaked through his hazmat to warm his cold skin. "Sam, I'm sorry."

Her face pressed against his neck and he could feel the hot tears that still fell as he held her tightly. She had tried so hard, how could he have missed it? How could Tucker have missed it? Except that Tucker had his own grief to deal with, and Sam's family was never as involved as his own would have been if it had been Danny who lost one of his best friends. And no one at school could have been counted on to notice that anything was wrong, with the exception of Mr. Lancer and possibly Sam's art teacher…

But it had been so recent, and Sam had always distanced herself from anyone, everyone, save for Danny and Tucker. Don't leave me, Danny. I need you. And he'd done just that. Because… Hadn't Tucker said it? He wasn't ruthless enough? So he'd left Sam behind, to suffer.

"You're dead," was all she said, tears falling faster.

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered, helpless against the rage and grief that welled up inside of him. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

Please, I love you.

He could remember exactly how it sounded, those words falling from her lips over his corpse. Oh god, he wished he could've heard her say it to him, for real, before he'd died. With a ragged sigh Danny pressed his cheek against Sam's, the slickness of her tears, both of their tears, making his face slide against hers until he was pressing a kiss to her shoulder, hands finding her face and turning her to look at him, holding her steady so that she couldn't turn from hi if she tried.

"I'm a fool, Sam," he murmured, inches from her and desperately trying not to break down as he looked into her tear dark eyes. "I'm stupid, I'm sorry. I wish I could go back, fix everything. I swear I wouldn't be so stupid. I'd just tell you."

She tried shaking her head and Danny held her steady against him. "No," he murmured. "I have to tell you, you have to know. Sam, I love you. I've always loved you; I was just a stupid little boy who was too afraid to admit it."

And when she pushed her mouth against his Danny could only close his eyes as he tasted her, salt tears mingling with the sweetness of her lip gloss, the heady scent that was simply Sam. It was wonderful, the most beautiful experience he'd ever had, kissing the girl he loved more than his own life. And the most painful, because as much as he wanted, it was still cold, dead, gloved hands sifting through her hair—he wanted to feel the silky strands against his own hands. Try as he might, he was still cold as she held on to him, he was still keeping himself grounded—literally—when his control slipped and he felt himself drifting up from the floor to hover, Sam's eyes going wide as he pulled away to focus on bringing them back down to her bedroom floor.

"That's never happened before," she said unsteadily as he settled her to the ground, then pushed her back until she was sitting on her bed, face still streaked, eyes still dull and pained, but tears no longer actively falling.

Danny shook his head, dropping to his knees before her and laying his head against her thighs, arms circling her waist to just hold her. "I'm so sorry, Sam. So sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt warm fingers sliding through his hair, gently feathering down the back of his neck to his shoulders.

"I don't want you to be dead, Danny," she said into the still night air.

Danny sat up, looking at her painfully. He reached out, smooth a gloved hand across her dark with a sigh. "It's not something I can change, Sam. I'm dead. Buried." He paused with a grimace of disgust. "I'm embalmed."

She gave a strangled laugh that was half sob, half genuine mirth. "You still have a gross sense of humor."

"Sorry," he smiled at her. "I'm a guy. We can't help these things."

"I know," she said softly, somber and serious again as she reached forward to kiss him once more. She pulled back, staring at him thoughtfully, one hand fluttering down his cheek as Danny fought to keep his eyes on hers, not to turn his face into the caressing touch the way he wanted to.

"Danny, have you tried going human?" she asked him softly, hesitantly. Almost like she was afraid to ask, like she didn't want to ask… But couldn't help but to ask. And staring into her dark lavender eyes he realized that she was. That Sam was afraid, deathly afraid, because if he said no… If he said no, then there really was no hope for Danny, he'd never be alive again.

It meant there was no hope for them, and they both knew it. And loathe as Danny was to admit it, he already knew that there was no hope. Better than she would ever know, especially after his brushes with the memory of his death. The first time he'd been so happy when he realized he'd been human at some point as he fell, as he lay there. He'd though it wasn't just a memory, it had felt so real.

But it hadn't been. He'd tried, and tried.

Danny dropped his head to Sam's shoulder, turning his face into the crook of her neck as he hugged her close, trying to make it as gentle on her as possible, and not daring to look in her eyes as he let out a miserable, "Yes."

He felt her fingers tighten across his shoulders, she still hadn't moved her hands even when he'd moved closer to her. Her breath came in short, shallow exhales and where his cheek pressed against her throat he felt her pulse jump painfully in hope, but more in fear. He breathed a shuddering breath, almost gasping at it even though he knew he was dead and didn't really have to breathe anymore.

"Nothing happened, Sam," he finally said into her shoulder, closing his eyes as he felt tears once again soaking into his hazmat, like scorching drops against dead flesh. "Please don't cry, Sam," he begged as he pulled back, brushing hair from her face and trying to wipe at the tears that slipped down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to hurt you, please don't cry, it's killing me."

She choked on a hysterical laugh and Danny sighed. Even now, the bad phrases wouldn't stop. "Okay, if I were alive, it'd be killing me. Now it just hurts. I don't want you to hurt, Sam. I want you to be happy."

"I'd be happy if you were alive," she said honestly.

"I'd be happy if I was alive, too," he responded, leaning forward to brush cold lips over her cheek.

"I wish you changed something. I wish you could have lived."

The words, despondently breathed out on a sigh, caught Danny's ear. If he could have changed something, if he could change something. If he could… But it was already too late, he realized as he closed his eyes. Even if he sought Clockwork out in the Ghost Zone, it was already too late. He was already dead, that wasn't something he could change, fix.

When he'd gone to the future and brought his evil self back, that had been outside of time, or very nearly. But it had been his present, his future that he had altered. Not his past. Even when he'd slipped through time with Clockwork's help to save Sam and Tucker from Vlad he hadn't exactly rearranged his past. He erased it, which was infinitely worse in outcome, but so much easier to do.

But he could hope. After all, what was the worst that Clockwork could say? No? So what if he did, Danny was already dead. At the very least he could find out if he would have been happy, living. If that future would have been better than the future he now faced: an eternity as Amity Park's loathed spectral defender. Though the loathing seemed to have dropped in the ratings since he was outed as the ghost half of Danny Fenton.

Who would have though that the town would have accepted him being half ghost now that he was all ghost? Of course, that was probably why. He could practically hear Jazz in the back of his head explaining it all in large terms that boiled down to nothing he understood. Probably something along the lines of great shock, general acceptance. That they would never have accepted him without him dying first.

Tell him something he didn't already know.

Danny pulled back, leaned forward and kissed her softly one last time, and then gave her as cheerful a smile as he could. "I have to go, Sam." The pure terror on her face had Danny dropping to his knees before her again, clutching at her arms as her mouth dropped open.

"Y-You're moving on?" she stammered out, her throat closing around the words as her eyes began to burn again, aching and red with the tears she'd already wept.

And Danny shook his head violently at her. "No, no. I'm not moving on, Sam. I don't even think I could, knowing I was leaving you here." He stopped and cupped her face in his hands, leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers before kissing her gently. "I'm going to go get some answers."

"Oh," she breathed out quietly.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I think it's about time I got some. But I'll be back, Sam. I promise. I won't leave you without saying goodbye."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't leave me at all," she muttered.

"I know, Sam. I know."

---

He remained invisible and intangible as he flew through his old house and down to the lab in his parent's basement. Danny knew that seeing them again now, so soon after realizing how much his death was hurting those he loved, and the girl nearest his heart, would do something to him. Hurt him, break him beyond the means he had of repairing that pain. He could only be thankful that it was the middle of the night as he drifted to a halt in front of the closed door pf the portal.

For the first time Danny wondered how he was going to get through it. It was closed, bound by the genetic lock his father had installed on it shortly after it had been turned on, and Danny… was a ghost. He had no corporeal human form for the lock to read his genetic material from, never mind that he was made up completely from ectoplasm now with nothing human left except, perhaps, his heart.

He knew that the door kept ghosts from escaping, knew that it kept them from coming out. His only hope was that it wouldn't stop him from trying to phase through it into the Ghost Zone instead of coming out of it. And hope that his parents hadn't installed any new devices to it since he'd died. Otherwise he could be in a world of trouble.

But, he realized as he reached a hand through the door, he could go through it. Maybe his parents had made all of their ghost equipment impervious to his own ectoplasmic signature. Maybe they'd redesigned everything so that he would be safe. And he plunged through, flying rapidly through the rip between worlds that spanned the mortal realm and the Ghost Zone.

And maybe not.

Sparks danced off his body as he burst through whatever field kept ghosts from passing through the portal while it was closed, biting back the scream that wanted to tear out of his throat. A scream that he knew was dangerously bordering on a Wail, a scream that he knew he couldn't give voice to. Whatever energy they had used, it hurt, and he knew that he wasn't about to risk going back through while the portal was closed. Not a chance in hell.

But, he realized as he looked around, the stinging burn beginning to recede along his limbs, he was in the Ghost Zone. Which was what he had wanted. And that way, he thought as he turned himself to the appropriate vector, was the quickest way to Clockwork's tower.