Chapter 10: In the Flesh

Danny woke up with a whimper, his spine going stiff as his arm ached in agony. It was another attack, but this one was dull and tingling. Nowhere near as painful as the others. It was still painful, but Danny was glad for it since it woke him from that horrible nightmare. At least he hoped it was a dream.

Besides himself, the teenager ran his fingers over his chest feeling for the gaping wound but thankfully nothing was there. He sighed deeply as his heart started to calm. That is until he heard a faint whisper, "Danny."

He sat up straight, forgetting the ache in his arm. Praying that he was hearing things and that maybe it was just his imagination, the teenager whispered to himself, "I'm just hearing things."

"Hey, Danny," the whisper called out again as raindrops knocked against the windowpane.

The blankets were quickly drawn closer as the teenager's chin, his eyes widened with fear. He searched the darkness glaring at every shadow that jumped in the frail light. A figure finally leaped out taking the form of a shadow-like being. Danny's eyes nearly popped out of his skull as the teenager frantically whispered, "Just a dream. Just a dream. A dream … a dream … a dream!"

The whispers halted when the teenager finally closed his eyes, expecting an attack. When nothing happened, he popped one eye open and looked around. Nothing. It had merely been a trick of the shadows … or maybe it was those crappy meds that were presently stuck in his arm by an IV. Danny glared at the needle with distaste before he reached for the lamp on the nightstand. Its light would certainly chase away the shadows and the paranoia.

And yet, before he could even touch the switch … it called out again.

"Danny …" the whispered voice choked out as a dark hand rose up from under the bed, grabbing the teenager by the wrist in order to stall the light. Before Danny could even scream out in protest, the hand gave a violent tug, pulling the ailing boy down onto the floor while ripping out his IV.

A dry yelp filled the room as Danny hit the floor. He couldn't see what grabbed him because of his blankets and so he flailed wildly like a newborn deer, the feel of blood dripping down his arm. He struggled even as he felt the figure sit down beside him as if trying to assist him.

The figure quickly gave up though when Danny tried to kick him or her, its voice squeaky and strangely familiar like an old memory, "Jeez Danny, when did you get so jumpy?"

Soon the blankets were removed by the neighboring body and Danny's eyes filled with tears at the mere sight of the figure sitting next to him on the floor. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. He was still in the dream, wasn't he?

"Tucker?"

"In the flesh… well sort of," said his dead friend as he ran his hand through Danny's nightstand, his features obviously ghostly.

Danny wiped the hot tears from his eyes and looked over his friend. Tucker's clothes were charred and wrinkled, his hair was ruffled, and his glasses were cracked and blackened. He had a burnt look all about him which reflected his violent death.

Noticing Danny's penetrating gaze, the dead teenager took off his glasses and tried to rub off the soot as if to improve his looks a little.

"Are you a ghost, Tucker?" asked Danny as he tried to wipe the blood from his arm. He didn't care much for IVs, but the medicine might be the only reason he was seeing Tucker … because the other teenager might just be a hallucination.

Tucker quickly steered away from the question and directed his attention towards Danny's arm, "Are you sick? Is that why you're in the hospital … or is this the loony bin? I always figured you'd go mad."

Danny wiped the blood from his arm again, but it just kept bleeding so he merely ignored it as he murmured, "It's my arm… it was badly burned and now I am having these attacks … from the chemicals in the fire apparently."

The shame almost too much as he thought about the fire. And so, taking in a deep breath, it all spilled forward like a wave taking the beach. Danny long overdue for someone to speak to in confidence. His voice even broke through the whole confession, like a skipping record that was in need of replacement, "I'm sorry Tucker. I should have been strong enough to save all of you ... I couldn't even save myself. It's a fluke I survived at all ... I ... I can't even go ghost to avenge any of you anymore."

Tucker winced as Danny sobbed at the end and, like only an old friend could, immediately forgave him. Though his touch was barely physical, a cool tugging at fabric as if he wasn't even really there, Tucker curled around his friend in an awkward hug. Then, carefully, the techno-geek whispered back, "Danny ... You tried to save us. I'm the one that should be sorry. I left you alone to deal with all this mess, and I wish I could stay and help with it ... but I only have so much time to tell you something important."

"I don't need your log in information, Tucker," laughed-sobbed Danny, already feeling better that Tucker was here and not angry with him.

"It's not that … all my accounts were on a timer anyway," said Tucker as he pulled away, winking like it was an inside joke. "But Tell me Danny, are you doing okay? I know ... your parents didn't make it. Is your aunt taking you in? Are you going to become a hillbilly now?"

Danny laughed-sobbed again at the mental image ... though it did make him wonder: why hadn't his aunt fought for him? It was odd honestly. It was like she didn't even know that her sister was dead. Did she? He'd have to try and address the subject later with Vlad.

Rubbing his eyes again, Danny slowly admitted, "No ... my godfather did ... Vlad Masters."

Tucker floated there for a moment, looking like he had just choked on his own tongue, "Really, the fruit loop?! You got to be kidding me. A guy is dead for a few short weeks and the world goes crazy."

"Yeah … I know," whispered the teenager as he readjusted himself into a far more comfortable sitting position, trying to sit as close as he could to his nearly incorporeal friend. "He legally adopted me too ... so there's that."

An awkward moment of silence hung in the air like neither of them knew what to say to that. So, Tucker sighed, apparently willing to take the plunge.

"As I said, I actually came to warn you about something," said Tucker, a tone of urgency in his voice that caused Danny to raise his head in question. "The demon and your attacks are linked. The place where that thing touched you, your arm that is, it's … cursed. He's likely not done with you. So, I came back to warn you."

The halfa's eyes drew away from Tucker and he glared at the raindrops hitting the windowpane for a moment. He didn't know if he should panic or, in some sick way, be grateful that he might not have to live with his guilt forever. It wasn't like he could defend himself right now anyway. And he sure wasn't going to ask Vlad.

So, closing his eyes, Danny whispered, "I'm not surprised. My life from the point it touched me has been cursed. Every step I take, every turn, it's like the world wants to break me."

Sighing, part of his mind wondered if this was some kind of sick punishment ... for what he did as Dan Phantom in the future. Maybe, the world wanted to make sure he never became that villain and had set out to end him, to punish him.

"I'm being punished, aren't I," asked Danny aloud, wondering if Tucker was some kind of omen that might know. "For what Dan Phantom did?"

Tucker looked at him confused, shaking his head, "No. Why would you be punished for what he did? Danny, this is all the demon's fault. In fact, do you know where he is? I need to know if you know."

"Of course it is! He killed everyone and got away! He took everything! How is that not a punishment?" came a shouted reply from Danny, the boy snapping as he sprang to his feet, a lamp being knocked over in his haste. Said lamp landed heavily on the floor, sending hundreds of shards rushing across the floor like little glinting knives. The rain outside was suddenly pounding against the windowpane, thunder growling up in the heavens as lightning lit the shouting boy's form.

"Why are you even here Tucker?! Are you are a reminder of my greatest failure? That I couldn't save you? Am I being punished twofold?! Well, I never want to remember!" cried Danny, his hands now shaking fists as all his emotions poured out, "Do the fates what you to rub it in? Do they want me to suffer before they end me too?"

Then, as quickly as the anger started, Danny's voice failed him and he started to sob, "Haven't I been punished enough?"

Tears dripped down Danny's cheek by the end of the rant. The death of his family now flashing before his eyes with each lightning strike like his mind was taking a morbid collection of pictures. And those eyes, that damn monster's black glistening eyes! Those eyes would forever haunt him ... Just like Dan's unyielding gaze.

Danny's voice remained a whisper, the dream still pressing into the back of his mind, "Tucker? Why did everyone leave? Leave me all alone? Only I should have been punished. Only me."

Standing there like a lifeless puppet for what felt like an eternity, Danny continued to stare as he waited for an answer. He didn't get one from Tucker though, because soon Vlad's expensive shoes were sliding into the room.

"Daniel?! What's wrong? I heard shouting down the hall," came a rushed reply, the billionaire taking in every detail from the sniffling boy, the vase all over the floor, to the bleeding arm where his IV was supposed to be.

Not knowing what to say, Danny started to sob-laugh ... when he noticed Tucker wasn't there anymore. Had he ever been there or was he finally going crazy?

Obviously unnerved by the choked laughing, the billionaire carefully walked across the glass on the floor, the shards crunching under his shoes. His touch was weary, careful as he directed the teenager to sit down on the bed, "Here, sit down. There's glass all over the floor. We don't need you stepping in it."

The laugh-sobbing, thankfully, calmed down into hiccups when the teenager sat down. Not know what else to do, except for lookup prominent psychiatrists when he got home, Vlad sat down carefully next to the teenager, grabbing a few tissues before offering it to the younger halfa.

Danny looked confused before Vlad added, "For your arm and eyes. I'll call a nurse in once you calm down."

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve instead, Danny wadded the tissue up onto his arm. The silence that followed was unnerving before Vlad sighed next to him, carefully asking, "What happen? Was it a nightmare?"

Swallowing thickly, part of his mind still wondering if he had imagined Tucker, Danny confessed, "I … just didn't want to remember."

Frowning, Vlad reached over carefully and squeezed Danny's shoulder, "Little badger, it's not healthy to repress things. I would know. I sent more than one psychologists' kid to college learning that for myself. Its best just to get it out if you can. Now, what do you not want to remember?"

Hating the older halfa for being so comforting, Danny tried to say something. Instead, his breathing became rapid and uneven as he struggled to find the right words. The tears had returned as well. He wanted to say something, anything to explain his behavior, but he couldn't even move his mouth right. The only sound that escaped him was a pathetic whine. The whole recollection of the fire was passing over him in such grotesque detail that the next thing he knew ... he was leaning over the bed and puking over Vlad's fancy shoes.

Vlad's eye twitched and Danny immediately was mortified ... but at the same time, he felt a little better.

"S-sorry, Vlad. It ... just came out," whispered Danny as he wiped his mouth, part of him wanting to crawl under the sheets and die.

Grimacing again, Vlad just patted him twice on the shoulder, "It's okay, Daniel. Do you at least feel better?"

Cheeks flushing, Danny wilted under the hand on his shoulder, "Yes."

"Wanna give me an idea of what happened?" asked Vlad again as he tried not to look down at his shoes mournfully.

Pulling his knees up, knowing Vlad deserved some kind of answer after ruining his fancy shoes, Danny mumbled, "Tucker ... was here and he asked me. I told him I didn't want to remember."

"Tucker?" An image of the techno-geek flashed in Vlad's mind and the billionaire spoke with caution. " … Your friend who died in the fire?"

"Yes," said Danny, pointing to the corner where Tucker had been, "Tucker came back. He's a ghost or something now. He was ... over there."

The words died in his throat as he turned to look where Tucker had been. The area really was empty. Danny felt his throat tighten, "We got into a fight and ... I-I yelled at him. I didn't mean to yell. I was just so ... upset. Maybe he's still here. I should look."

Yet, before his feet could hit the floor full of glass shards, Vlad pulled him back by the elbow, the older halfa calmly stating, "There's no one else here Daniel. It's just the two of us ... My ghost senses aren't even picking anything up."

Danny blinked up at him, his stomach sinking further. Maybe he really had imaged Tucker.

Seeing the teenager's horrified expression, Masters calmly stood up and lifted the boy's sheets, "Why don't you lie back down, Daniel. It was probably just a dream or one of your medications might be bothering you. I'm just going to quickly find the night doctor. Just … lay back down."

Vlad's shoes were then crushing glass underfoot as he headed to the door, leaving Danny sitting on his bed. Besides himself, Danny dared whisper aloud, "Tucker ... were you just a figment of my imagination?"

No one was there to answer.

…

Elsewhere, Smith sat in the dark recesses of his office listening to the rain pound against the large window behind him. A small golden box with Greek writing rested on his lap. His manicured nails tapped on the lid almost playful as if he was waiting. A burst of light filled the room ... but it didn't fade like the lightning outside. A small violet orb had entered the room, carrying a chorus of whispers behind it. It circled around the space twice and then came to rest an inch above the golden box, turning Smith's features purple with its light.

Smith smiled at its entrance and spoke to the orb softly, "Did you enjoy your freedom my little spirit?"

Whispers sang from the orb in an excited chorus as it jumped about the box like a playful child.

"I see," said the lawyer as a sad smile spread across his lips. "Now tell me what he told you."

The whispers erupted from the golfball-sized orb again. Smith closed his eyes catching and understanding every word. Only once the whispers had ceased did his golden eyes open, the man glaring down at the box.

"Very good my little rift. Now into the box with you," chimed Smith as he opened the ominous box, an unearthly wail escaping it. The orb's whispers quickly became distressed as it tried to fly away, but an unknown wind sucked the poor little orb inside with a screech.

Surprisingly, Smith's smile was gone, his voice almost woeful, "Sorry little one. I can't have you turning like the others. The box is the best place for you. Who knows when I will need you again."

…

Dr. Webking looked over the sleeping teenager as Vlad sat in a corner chair, tapping his fingers in a most irritating fashion.

Tap ... Tap ... Tap … Tap

The doctor stalled in his work to glare at the tapping fingers. His nerves were on end. He had come into work three hours early because Masters wouldn't leave the night shift alone. Never satisfied that man was.

Rubbing his brow, telling himself that Vlad's donations were helping update the children's ward for the hospital, he turned to the billionaire and simply said, "From what we can tell, there's nothing wrong with his medication. From what you described, it likely was a nightmare, Mr. Masters. Not entirely unexpected given Danny's trauma."

"A nightmare?" said Vlad, unconvinced. "He was having a screaming match with his dead friend. I heard it all the way down the hall." Danny shifted slightly in his bed forcing Vlad to drop his voice. "That is a level above simple nightmare."

The doctor frowned, nodding, "I understand your concern, but from one incident that's all I can conclude. I mean, it might have been a night terror, but Danny is a bit too old to be having those."

Vlad gave him a glowering glance, obviously dissatisfied.

Clearing his throat, Dr. Webking continued, "But, given his trauma with the fire, a psychologist can help him deal with the strain. He can speak to the hospital's psychologists, of course, but you should find someone for him to speak to once you get him home."

"And how much longer away is that?" asked Vlad with a tint of irritation. He had wanted to go home days ago with Daniel because, personally, he couldn't take this hospital anymore. The white everything, the disinfectant, and the bathroom stalls that smelled like ammonia and old lady perfume disturbed him like old memories. He wanted to leave … but that wasn't going to happen. For all he knew the next few years would be filled with nothing but hospital visits.

"Sooner than you think, Mr. Masters," said Webking, almost relieved. "I was able to contact a colleague in your area that was willing to take on Danny's case, Dr. Monroe. She agrees that the attacks are a reaction to a chemical that entered the wound during the fire and has a number of pill regiments set up in case the current one does not work."

"Dr. Monroe? Pill regiment? Daniel needs something done now. These attacks could be killing him," growled Vlad, caring little if his angry voice stirred the boy again, which he doubted. Danny was given some pills to help him sleep after the Tucker incident.

Placing a hand up, Webking almost pleaded, "Please hear me out. Dr. Monroe said that it is uncertain what chemicals entered the wound. There were so many chemical traces found in the fire and we have no idea of knowing what experiments the Fentons were doing. Thus, prescribing the wrong medicine will be more harmful than helpful. So, at this point, we find it best to only recommend medication changes as needed. A bad reaction could be just as harmful as an attack."

Vlad groaned and started to rub his temples. "It sounds like we are just guessing at this point."

Frowning, not knowing what else to say, Webking soberly admitted, "In a way, we are. There's no way of telling what chemicals the Fentons had in their home."

Closing his eyes, Vlad cursed Jack's name in his head. Why were the lab and the living area so close? He should have known better. Honestly, Maddie should have known better. And, for the first time in forever, Vlad actually found himself somewhat mad at her.

XXX

Paw07: I added about 1200 words to this chapter. It took a while though. There was a lot of sloppy wording in this chapter. I also deleted about half of the last scene. It just seemed too out of character for Vlad.

(Revisions July 2020)