Author's Note: I should've finished this chapter much sooner and I'm very sorry. I left it at like ninety-five percent done for a couple weeks and I can only say it's because I've been kind of sad.

(after being) Condemned

"Danny? You there, kiddo?"

Danny blinked himself back into mobility. Jack gestured toward the table in the living room on which his computer was set up and his school supplies were laid out.

"Yeah, sorry," said Danny with a stilted laugh. "Just kind of spaced there for a second. You know, long day at school."

"School can definitely do that," agreed Jack. "We could chill first if you want. We don't have to hit the books right away."

"Chill?"

"Sure. We could watch something on TV." Jack searched the couch for the remote. "Fudge and TV is the best combination."

Jack mirthfully grumbled under his breath as he searched for the remote, playfully demanding why it was never in plain sight.

Danny's stomach knotted. This didn't seem right. This couldn't be right. This didn't feel right.

His dad looked happy.

But that was impossible because his dad came into his room just the night before and yelled at him.

Was this another trap? Was his dad going to ambush him again after this elaborate setup of false security?

"I also went out and bought vanilla ice cream," said Jack. "I can go grab it once I find this dang remote."

"Uh, Dad, um…" Danny scanned the room. Not that he was actually looking for anything. Just the right words. "I'm pretty drained. Would it be all right if I was just by myself for a bit?"

Jack stopped his search. "No, Danny. That's not all right."

Danny's mouth fell open but he otherwise did not move.

"You're grounded, remember?" Jack reached behind the couch cushions. "You can't go off on your own right now. You're supposed to stay in the living room where we can see you."

Danny inwardly groaned. Damn it, that was right. How could he have forgotten?

"Found it!" Jack triumphantly held the remote in the air. "Come on, Danno. You can relax here with me. We don't even have to talk if you're feeling too drained." He grabbed a box of fudge that had been placed on the study table. "Can't forget these, of course."

Jack settled onto the couch and switched on the TV. He smiled at Danny.

But Danny could not move toward him.

And Jack's smile faded.

"Oh, right, the ice cream. Of course." Jack looked toward the kitchen. "You wanna grab it? The vanilla carton. Or whichever you want."

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be with his dad right now. He didn't want to be with his dad alone.

But there was no other option.

Fine. All right. He could do this. But first, he needed to go up to his room. Once he safely stashed a few painkillers in a place Jazz wouldn't be aware of, he'd feel better and he'd be able to handle being with his dad. And then later he could figure out some way to obtain more hydrocodone. He had ghost powers, after all.

"Um, well…" Danny pulled at the skin on his neck. "Can I just go upstairs real quick first? I'll be right back"

Jack eyed him warily. "Upstairs? Why?"

To hide his goddamn painkillers from his goddamn sister, could he please just let him go now without the interrogation?

"To use the bathroom," said Danny, attempting to sound as pleasant and polite and nonchalant as possible and not like a moody irritable teen. "Like I said, long day at school."

"There's a bathroom down here," said Jack, his tone darkening, an aspect Danny felt in his gut. "Just use that one. You don't need to go all the way upstairs."

His dad was getting provoked. Danny wasn't entirely sure why, but Jack's words and voice and expression were tripping every alarm in his body.

Danny's gaze moved up the staircase as he attempted to calculate a new plan. All right. Okay. There was indeed a bathroom on this level. He could go to that one and then transform and phase up through the ceiling to get to the second floor and then—

"Is there something you need upstairs?" asked Jack. "Because I can go with you to get it if it's that important."

"No!" said Danny quickly. "No, I—there's nothing up—I don't need anything upstairs."

Jack frowned deeply, creasing the lines in his aging face. Damn it, this was not what Danny wanted. This was not good. His dad in a bad mood was never good.

"Yeah, it's fine. Let's watch some TV." Danny moved quickly toward the sofa.

"You don't want to use the bathroom first?" asked Jack.

"Nah, I'm okay." Getting up to his room and hiding his painkillers was going to take more time, more time than his dad would probably give him right now, more time than he could probably take without making his dad very suspicious. He had to get his dad back to a good mood first. "So what're we watching?"

He flopped down on the couch next to Jack but not too close. Half a seat cushion apart, that was plenty close enough. Okay, actually, he lied, this was definitely too close, but it was too late now, he couldn't move away without his dad noticing.

Jack did not speak. Danny put on his most practiced smile to diffuse the situation.

And to his relief, Jack's expression relaxed. He held up the remote and switched on the television.

"There's a series I've been enjoying on Amazon," said Jack. "It explores all sorts of supernatural phenomena, and—well—I mostly just like to point out all the inaccuracies. Especially when they discuss ghosts. I want to write them a letter someday."

"Oh?" Hearing his dad rant about ghosts did not appeal to Danny, but if it could make Jack happy again, he would put up with it. "Yeah, okay! Sounds good."

"All right!" Jack watched the screen carefully as he pulled up the show. "Do you wanna grab that ice cream from the fridge?"

"Sure, yeah, which do you want?" asked Danny, standing up halfway.

"Whichever you want! I bought vanilla just for you."

"I'm not hungry, so I'll just grab whatever you'd like."

Jack's face tightened again, and Danny realized he had somehow managed to make yet another mistake.

"You're not hungry?" asked Jack. "You're a teenage boy who just got home from school and you're telling me you're not starving?"

Danny shielded his distress with a blank face. Why was he never normal? Usual? Ordinary? Was everyone right? Was his dad right? Was he a freak?

"Besides, you don't eat fudge and ice cream because you're hungry," said Jack more jovially, picking up the fudge and holding it out to him. "Haven't I taught you that?"

Danny laughed and hoped it sounded completely natural and not like he was trying to mask any insecurity. "Yeah, you did."

He plucked a piece of fudge out of the box and pushed it into his mouth. It stuck to his palate and thickened over his teeth and glopped down his throat. The lingering remnants on his tongue were muddy and sweet.

Jack set the box down between them and shoved a couple pieces into his own mouth while aiming the remote at the TV. "I haven't seen this episode yet, so this should be fun for both of us!"

The show began with appropriately spooky music and low-pitched narration. Danny kept his face toward the screen, but his eyes kept darting up to the ceiling in the direction of his bedroom.

Jack was already eagerly engaged with the show, introducing the hosts and their backstories to Danny, giving his opinions on their techniques and ideas. There was never not a bite of fudge in the side of his mouth as he spoke and sometimes grabbed Danny's knee to shake it.

Danny wanted to scoot away so that his dad couldn't touch him anymore, but he stayed in place and let his dad do whatever he wanted so that he'd remain in this good mood.

Jack blabbed and chatted in his familiar zealous tone. Danny paid close attention to that tone, barely hearing the actual words. The words didn't matter as long as his dad's voice remained happy.

But his painkillers were still upstairs where Jazz knew they'd be. They were still there and he needed to hide them before she came home, needed to hide a few of them somewhere she wouldn't know about so he could figure out how to get more before he completely ran out—

He popped fudge in his mouth like pills to distract himself. Really squishy chewy sugary pills. He focused on the filmy texture and moist taste and clingy crumbs. Yes, yes, he'd get upstairs eventually. He had plenty of time. Jazz wouldn't be home for a while; he did not have to worry about this now, calm down. He just had to eat this stupid fudge to make his dad happy. He just had to not freak out like the freak everyone thought he was.

The fudge was not settling well in his gurgling gut. Maybe he should just try actually watching this show instead. Maybe that would be a better distraction.

"The EMF meter is picking up on something very strong right here," said one of the hosts, bathed in green light from the night vision camera as he stood to one side of a room decorated with floral wallpaper and velvet sofas.

"Your mom and I used to use really primitive equipment like that," said Jack. "When we were just starting out. Then we started creating our own ghost-hunting equipment. Far more accurate. These guys could really use Fenton gadgets."

Danny kept back a grimace by chewing harder. More people with his parents' far-too-accurate and much-too-painful ghost inventions, spectacular.

"And it's so much stronger now than it was during the day," the host continued. "Which makes sense because ghosts tend to be more active at night."

"I'll give them that. That is true," said Jack. "Ghosts pull crap during the day too, but they definitely prefer the cover of night."

Yes. Danny also knew that was true. There were times he had to fight ghosts during the day, of course, but most of his battles happened in the deepest part of the night, especially nights with only a sliver of moonlight hanging in the sky, nights with few clouds covering the stars.

Even he felt drawn to the night more than ever now, even apart from his fascination with astronomy. Twilight made his molecules hum and then buzz once the sun disappeared completely beneath the horizon. Phantom called to him in those hours, in that darkness.

"They do, yes. You're right," said Danny.

Jack glanced at him and smiled. Danny smiled back.

"I do not get the sense that this ghost has any malicious intent here." The host looked up at the ceiling of the quaint house. "This ghost is haunting this place, yes, but it does not seem to want to do harm to anyone. It almost seems like it wants to help whoever is living here."

Jack snorted. "It wants to help. Yeah, right. These guys are always letting themselves get played by these ghosts." Jack stuffed another piece of fudge into his mouth and chewed it on one side. "They so often think these ghosts are benevolent. But that's how you know they're amateurs. Because they don't get that ghosts pretend to be benevolent for their own gain. To get humans to do things for them."

Danny's shoulders stiffened.

"Ghosts only ever act in their own best interests," Jack continued. "They don't know how to do anything else. And they literally can't do anything else; it's an obsessive compulsion."

Danny kept his gaze straight ahead on the TV screen but his eyes were no longer focused.

"Danny? You okay?"

He could see Jack's face turned to him out of the corner of his eye, but he did not want to return the look.

"Yeah!" chirped Danny. "Yeah, just really into the show, sorry. Did you ask me something?"

"No, but…" Jack cocked his head. "You still don't agree with me."

"Agree about what? Hmm?"

"About ghosts not ever being benevolent. How they only act selfishly. How they never have good intentions for humans because they only want to use us. But they can be very good at pretending they want to help us, that they are good."

Danny continued to stare at the TV.

"Danny, it's all right if you don't agree," said Jack. "But it's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you."

Danny pressed his lips into a tight smile. "Sorry, yeah, you're right. I mean, I agree with you, yeah." He pointed to the TV. "So, um, what do you think of what they're doing now?"

"I know you're lying, Danny," said Jack with a quiet sigh. "And you don't have to lie, I promise. I don't want you to feel like you can't have a different opinion from me."

"I don't," said Danny, shaking his head, lying through his smiling teeth but only because he knew his dad didn't actually mean a word he said. "I don't feel that way. Really."

"Come on, Danno," said Jack, his voice sounding more cheerful. "I'm a scientist; you're going to be a scientist someday when you join NASA. We should talk about our hypotheses and thoughts! It's what scientists do."

Jack was leaning toward him, an act that seemed aggressive to Danny, but was he just being sensitive? Was he just imagining the dangerous hint in his father's tone?

Regardless, Jack wasn't going to let this go. Continuing to insist he did agree would probably upset him. But admitting that he disagreed couldn't possibly end well for him either no matter what his dad said.

Damned either way.

"Well." Danny's eyes drifted as he searched for the right words. "Well, um, I don't know. I mean, how do you know for sure, I guess? How can you know for sure what a ghost's actual intentions are? Without actually talking to the ghost yourself?"

"Because all ghosts are the same," said Jack. "Your mom and I have run countless tests and trials and interviews. No data has ever suggested otherwise. Selfish compulsion and manipulation is an inherent part of a ghost's psychology. Without it, well, they aren't ghosts."

Danny nodded slowly, not in agreement but to stall. "Right, yeah. Okay. But, um, I'm just saying, how can you possibly know for sure that there isn't one ghost that's maybe...like a mutation, you know? Different from the others. A ghost that is actually good. Like how can you know one hundred percent unless you study each and every ghost?"

"I suppose you're right," said Jack. "Scientists can never claim to be one hundred percent certain about anything. Science is, after all, not truth itself but the constant pursuit of truth. You never actually obtain truth in science, only more and more evidence that strongly supports a theory."

Danny sat up a little straighter.

"But your mom and I have not yet found any evidence that opposes our theory," said Jack firmly. "So I am very confident that the ghost in this show is only acting according to its selfish obsession and will bring only misery to the people living in the house."

Danny's lips parted, stunned, numb. Was that all he could ever be to his dad? Someone who brought only misery to everyone living in this house? Someone who could never make anyone in this house happy? Someone who would just leech off every member of his family without ever contributing anything?

Can you possibly deny that it's completely true, freak?

Danny sank back into the sofa. "Okay, yeah, makes sense," he mumbled.

Jack lowered his brows. "What is this attitude now? Why are you being so sulky?"

Danny groaned. "I'm not. I'm sorry."

"We're just talking now, you know. It's really okay if you disagree with me. I know that I made you feel like you couldn't on Friday, and I'm sorry about that, Danny. I don't want you to feel that way. I want to get better at this with you."

"Yeah. Okay. It's fine."

"No, it doesn't seem fine. What's on your mind?"

Jack wore a smile but Danny didn't trust it and he just didn't want to do this anymore but his dad was never going to let him go, was going to keep him cornered in this alley until he was finally kind enough to shoot him in the head.

"I don't know," rasped Danny. "I mean, I guess... Well, what if a ghost's obsession is...to not hurt anybody? What if a ghost's obsession is just...to help people? Is that possible to you? Could a ghost be good then?"

His final try, his last effort. But Jack didn't miss a beat in answering, did not even pause to think.

"No," said Jack. "A ghost's obsession is harmful to humans no matter what it is because it involves manipulation. It's not based on anything selfless or generous, it's based solely on what that ghost desires most for itself, for its own gain. Even if its obsession is to help humans, the ghost still isn't doing it for the sake of humans."

Jack patted his knee. Danny's blood itched in his veins.

"I think these are good questions you're asking," said Jack. "And you can disagree with me, but I'm not going to back down on what I've come to discover about ghosts. Bottom line, they don't have to be actively doing anything to cause harm. Their mere existence is a hazard on its own. They are a threat to us no matter what. We can't risk trusting even one of them."

Danny's fists clenched against his thighs.

"Not even Danny Phantom," said Jack. "Especially not him."

Danny shot to his feet, twitches rippling under his skin. Jack stared up at him with a slightly open mouth.

"What's going on?" asked Jack, looking him up and down.

Danny's fingers jerked to curl into fists, but he controlled the impulse with a deep breath. "I just need to go upstairs real quick. To use the bathroom, I mean. Right now."

"Why do you want to go upstairs so bad?" asked Jack. "There's a bathroom down here."

Danny shut his eyes with a small shake of his head. "Right, yes, downstairs. That's what I meant. I need to use the one downstairs. So can I go?"

He began walking away from the sofa. Jack stood and blocked his path.

"No, Danny, you can't leave now."

Danny choked on a gasp. His dad wasn't letting him leave, his dad was holding him hostage again, his dad was going to blow a hole straight through his head.

"You seem very eager to leave," said Jack. A prominent vein in his temple gently bulged. "Why? Why do you want to leave?"

Danny kept a solid stance as Jack opposed him, but his heart was pounding against his ribs. "I—I don't, I just need—"

"You really want to get away from me that bad?" Jack scoffed. "Is that it? Just tell me the truth, Danny."

"No." Danny's voice was shrill. He swallowed to regain strength. "Of course that's not it."

"Then why are you acting so weird around me? Why are you trying so hard to leave?"

Danny's shoulders rose, his arms lifted, but the right words weren't coming to him.

"It's obvious you don't want to be with me," said Jack. "That's how you've been acting around me all week now. And I know it was unfair of me to confront you in your room last night. I apologize for that."

"It—" Danny's breath hitched. "It's okay, really—"

"But I've been nothing but nice to you since you got home today." Jack continued as if Danny hadn't said anything. "I'm trying to do better. I'm trying to make it up to you. I even went out and bought vanilla ice cream just for you. And this is what you're giving me right now? Really?"

"Dad, please, that's not what this is," said Danny. "You're—you're taking this too personally. You're reading too much into this. I just want a few minutes to myself. You and Mom just kind of sprung this on me, and I wasn't ready yet. That's all. So if you'd just let me have—I mean, just a little time to myself, then—"

"You're not supposed to be anywhere by yourself right now, Danny," said Jack. "You're supposed to be where we can see you at all times while we're all awake. And that's how it's going to be until Thursday."

"I—I know, and I'm not asking for a ton of time, just enough to—"

"If you don't like it, that's the point. Then maybe next time you'll think twice before sneaking out past curfew."

Danny stopped himself from rolling his eyes and sucked in a hard breath instead. "Okay, well, then I just need to use the bathroom."

"I said you could go earlier and you didn't," said Jack. "What is it you really want to do?"

"You know, I'd prefer to not give the specifics of what I want to do in the bathroom."

Danny again attempted to walk out of the living room, but Jack continued to block his path.

"I want the truth, Danny. Do you want to get away from me right now?" asked Jack.

"No, Dad. I'll be right back."

"You had your chance to go earlier and didn't take it. So no, you can't leave right now. We're not done talking here yet."

"Dad." Danny raised his arms briefly before letting them drop with slaps to his sides. "I'm not going to stay here just so you can yell at me."

"I'm not yelling at you. I can yell at you if you want." Jack's voice rose. "Is that what you want?"

"No," said Danny. "I just want to leave for a moment. Let me just—"

He made a dash past his dad but did not get far. Jack grabbed his arm and stopped him short.

"Tell me the truth, Danny." Jack's huge hand wrapped around his forearm entirely.

"Let go." Danny tugged but could not get out of his father's hold.

"Not until you tell me your problem with me," said Jack. "Tell me what I've done to you, Danny. Tell me why you're acting like this around me."

Danny wrenched and pulled harder. Jack's glove rubbed against his skin with hot friction.

"I haven't done anything to hurt you," said Jack. "Why are you acting like you're afraid of me?"

"Let go," begged Danny. "Let go. Let go. Let—"

His molecules pinched into intangibility, allowing his arm to phase through his father's hand. Jack stared at his empty fist.

"Wait." Jack's forehead creased. "How—"

He had to take advantage of this confusion. He couldn't let his father catch him.

He tore away, ran away, ignored his father's cries and demands.

Out of the living room, out the front door, down the street, toward the clouds.