Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is on my Christmas list (which means I don't yet own it...it'd still make a perfect gift...).

Author's Note: Yay! I got to update this in time! Thanks to everyone who reviews - this chapter is dedicated to you! Yes, that does sort of rhyme, anyone have a problem with that?

Chapter Five

--DP--

(Flashback from the last chapter)

"It's okay, Sam. I won't bother you," Danny said, appearing in our doorway randomly, as was his custom.

Kates' mouth popped open, and she shot me a look. You have to talk to him now, it said. Don't be a jerk.

I moistened my lips and nodded a bit, stepping forward so I could speak to Danny. I knew what I would say, but he was already turning to leave. "Danny, don't go."

--DP--

Kates threw me a look and bolted, excusing herself as she squeezed past Danny without an excuse.

Danny leaned back against the door frame, as I sat down on the bed, hoping I could trust my fat mouth not to fail me.

"Danny...I missed you," I started softly.

"I thought we were friends," he said sadly, lifting his eyes for a moment to look at me.

"We are."

"Then why were you avoiding me?"

I bit my lip and scooted closer to the door. "I wasn't. I really wasn't here for a week, it's kind of a long story and...and if you'll listen, I'll tell you."

"Give me credit here Sam, you know I'll listen."

"Okay, well...can we go outside to talk?"

I knew I deserved the look Danny gave me. "Sam, don't try to stall."

"I'd rather not say it in here." I flicked my eyes to the open doors along the hall, but that wasn't it. It was just another cruel trick. I didn't care if the others heard - for crying out loud, they'd been there when it happened! Just...in here it seemed so bad. A hospital cell. Four white walls, white floor, white dresser drawers, white bed. I blended in with my standard white dress. And white is the absence of color. Like the absence of life.

Probably in a state of pity, Danny obliged, leading me out to where it'd all began, the garden. "Now, will you explain?"

Maybe it was the outside air, but I began to talk. And even though I was rambling, I was fine. "Okay, well, it's just that...here in the hospital, you're not allowed to draw. It's taboo, forbidden because they don't want the crazies to have free access to non-regulation pencils, pens, 'sharp and dangerous' objects. Even erasers, notepads, they think you'll become violent or something. But, I have ways and a secret stash, or at least, I did have it. It's locked up now.

"Last Thursday, after we went for a walk, I came back and...and my room had been searched. The nurse had a lead or something, and she confiscated my art tools. But, that's not all." Here, I looked away. This was the hard part. I had to explain it well, or else Danny might think the accusations were true - that I was crazy. "Do you believe in...the paranormal? Ghosts, or angels? That sort of stuff?"

"I do," Danny answered, his voice low, but not accusing.

My heart beat a little faster, maybe he would be on my side, maybe he would see things like I do. "Me too," I said, trying hard to speak calmly. "I see them, sometimes. That's what I drew in my notebook. That's why I had to keep it an even bigger secret. Especially cause...

"A few years ago, there was this nurse. She's the one that first caught me drawing. She took my stuff and she said...she said she'd been talking. The nurses thought I was making progress. I hadn't tried to run away for awhile, and I wasn't acting out. Nothing 'crazy', nothing out of the ordinary. I don't have Kates' problems, I'm not autistic, I'm not paranoid, I'm not depressed, I'm not Margie..."

"Margie?"

"Sorry. Sandy? The short girl, big wild red hair? Angie?"

"Oh! Angie. Who's Margie? And Sandy? Are they triplets?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could anyone not know? "That's what she likes to be called, well, depending on her mood. Have you ever noticed her slight accent? That's all Angie. Normal and sweet? Sandy. Fiery as her hair? She's Margie."

Danny nodded slightly, which I took as a sign that he understood. I realized then that he probably would never fully understand, but it wasn't the time to push it.

"Anyway, the nurse said I was almost normal. Compared to everyone else in here, I was normal. But it's easy to play normal. You learn how to answer questions, how to take everything different and unique about you, and lock it up. That's what I did. Until...the drawing thing. Some things they always find out.

"Believing in ghosts? Seeing things? That made me 'crazy'. That made me nuts like everyone else. I could've been out of here, maybe fifteen years therapy tops. And the sickest thing of all? I didn't want to be out there. The thought of living out there with people like my parents? Thinking of it made me nuts enough to stay.

"Besides, there's something about the ghost that calls me back. I know it's real, but I can't explain him in words...what he does...what he is...it's too hard. So I try to capture it on paper instead. Kates calls it my addiction. My drug. A therapist told my parents I drew to keep myself sane. They blamed me, but it's their fault. Of course I'm crazy! My parents took me to a therapist during my vacation! They said I couldn't afford to miss the support.

"So last week, when they found out I was still drawing, still spouting stuff about paranormal beings...I got in big trouble with the nurses. I was kind of in isolation for a week, so I couldn't see you. And okay, I did try to avoid you a little bit today, but only because..." Why was I still talking? Why hadn't I stopped after the isolation? But Danny was still looking at me, so I took a breath and...told him the truth. "Because I wasn't sure if, after I told you where I'd been, you'd..."

"I'd what? Not want to be your friend anymore?" Danny was definitely enjoying making me squirm. He'd known me long enough to know that I hated that mushy stuff, or at least, admitting things like that out loud.

"I just don't want you to have pity for me - the crazy girl."

Danny just laughed, plucking a bright purple flower from a nearby bush and presenting it to me. "Sam, crazy's not a label. If it was, you'd have to lock us all up, because we all lose it sometimes. Besides, even if you were 'crazy', I wouldn't have pity for you. You're one of the most alive people I know. And you're not the only one who sees the ghosts."

Hmm. It seemed longer before. :( Aw well, at least it's a good deal longer than the last chapter. I hope this one explains a little bit about Sam - but if it left you wondering, don't worry. You'll find out a lot more about her soon.

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