A/N: Because this confused a lot of people, when the test came up positive, he wasn't human.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any characters affiliated. I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter Four

It is not every day that you're told you're the non-human property of the government. It's also not every day that you pull yourself out of a mental collapse and go off to the main office of the facility where you are being held against your will for being a potential threat to society and find out that you have a monetary value, and that any properly secured scientific organization could purchase you for it, should they have the funds to do so.

I am worth exactly one million dollars. The average is five-hundred thousand (I for one didn't know there was an average).

In any other situation, that might be a serious self-esteem builder.

So my fourth day of captivity was rather abnormal. This is, of course, me, the half-ghost ex-super hero talking. For anyone else it might rank up there with 'suddenly being told you own the world' or 'finding out you are the sole heir to the Hitler bloodline' or something like that. Not for me. Ha.

Beyond the fact that it was strange, it was completely scarring, emotionally devastating, and altogether miserable. There is a very unique feeling that comes along with discovering that you are a.) not human, b.) the property of someone else, and c.) lucky enough to have no future to speak of.

And, to give that cake some icing, as the Head of Nonhuman Affairs put it, 'a fully transmittable commodity.' Basically anyone who can pay one mil for me gets me. I knew that whole scientific organization thing was just a lie. The HNA was a bad liar.

Trust me, I know a bad liar when I see one. I am one.

Anyway, here I am, two weeks later. Still half-dead.

I'd been watching the news. My parents conducted a speech on live TV asking me to come home, and that they didn't hate me and that no, I wasn't going to be dissected. Tucker was thoroughly depressed, he being the only one there when the GIW agents took me, and Sam and Jazz looked as though they'd been crying.

Despite the fact that it was good to see them again, I couldn't help but notice that the city was in shambles, some parts engulfed completely in green flames.

Well there you go, Val, Mom, Dad, I thought, half-sighing.

I wondered how guilty they felt.

Then I wondered how both I and the entirety of my hometown could possibly coexist when we're both this messed up.

Please note I hadn't opened my mouth in therapy once since I got the bad news. Ms. Redd just spent all of our time together watching me stare at her and taking various notes. Possibly on my even more messy hair, or the fact that I was refusing to shower or change my clothes.

Then, on day eighteen, she finally prompted me to talk.

"You can talk to your parents today," she said.

I gaped. "W-what?"

"Your fifteen minute phone call."

I blinked, having forgotten all about that. "Oh. When?"

She half-smiled, and gestured to the phone sitting on her desk, which was in the back of the room. "Now."

I immediately got up and ran over to the phone, picking up the receiver and punching in my home number at lightning speed. It rang twice, and then I heard the click that meant someone had picked up.

"Hello?" came my mother's voice. Her voice hitched; she'd been crying.

"Mom?" I said hesitantly. I wished I'd thought that through.

"Danny?!" she said. "Is that you."

I bit my lip, and traced lines on Jane's desk. "Er - yeah. It's me."

"Oh, Danny, where are you?"

"Er - well, I really don't know if I can tell you. But I'm relatively fine."

"Please come home," she said. "We don't hate you. We're not even mad."

"I-I can't," I said softly. "W-where I am, I'm, well, stuck. Unless you want to buy me."

There was a pause. "What?" she asked sharply.

"I'd rather not. Hey, can I talk to Dad?"

She paused again. "Oh, right. HONEY! IT'S DANNY!"

I heard Dad's thundering footsteps, and soon I heard him panting, "Danny? Is it really you?"

"It's me."

"Where are you?" he said.

"I can't say. But . . . I'm fine." It appeared I was going to have much the same conversation with my father as I did my mother. But I didn't care. It was possibly the happiest moment of my life. I was literally in tears.

"When're you coming home? Danny, we need you. Maddie, Jazz, and I don't care if you're Phantom or not - and neither does the town."

I sighed. "I know, I know." Jane was tapping her watch. "Look, I have to go. I'll talk to you again, well, eventually - bye."

"Bye," Dad said. "Bye."

I hung up, and wiped the tears from my eyes. I went to go sit back down in front of Jane. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

The rest of our session was silent. For the first time in a very long time, I felt relatively happy.

I just wished that I'd said more to them. I supposed I would get to talk to them again. I wasn't completely sure; but then, I wasn't completely sure of anything anymore.

- - -

Another several days dragged on. Then, on what might've been either day twenty-one or day twenty-two (I was beginning to lose track), Mark stopped me while I was entering my room. "Interested buyers, level six. Hurry up," was all he said before hurrying off to go tell the same thing to some freakish looking girl (she had blue hair and the strangest looking turquoise eyes. I immediately became thankful I was not outwardly strange) a couple rooms away.

I stood there for a few moments, my throat slowly closing up. Then Mark turned around and glared at me, and I hurried to the elevator.

Strange-girl and I weren't the only ones. At least fifteen people, were waiting in front of the elevator, most with nervous expressions on their faces. Six of us, including me, crammed onto it. Someone had hit the button marked 'six,' already, and when the doors closed we began our ascent.

Three minutes later, and we all stepped off, only to be herded into a line on the opposite wall. I estimated there to be about thirty people already here.

At least it's not just me, I thought.

Eventually everyone got here and we were systematically shushed. Not that I ever opened my mouth; I was in a state of perma-shock.

Mark, I think, ushered in the buying couple. Taking one look at them I knew my theory was true: the properly secured scientific organization thing was crap. This was obviously just some rich couple mainly interested in buying everything they can, just to say they have it. Like the Mansons, minus Sam.

"What exactly are you looking for, Mr. and Mrs. Kilpear?" Mark asked. I pondered over exactly what his job was.

Hesitating, Mrs. Kilpear said, "Why don't you just show us what you have?"

Point proven.

Mark took her over to some random guy. "Ian. Thirteen years old, 182 pounds, five feet, nine inches tall."

"What can he do?" Mr. Kilpear asked.

Ian looked like he was going to collapse. It was really ridiculous.

Mark elbowed him, and Ian squeaked out, "Telekinesis. Just . . . Telekinesis."

The Kilpears looked at each other. "Okay."

Mrs. Kilpear walked over to the man standing next to me. "What's your name?" she asked stiffly.

"A-allen. I freeze stuff."

I wanted to know how this was legal.

Mrs. Kilpear moved on to me (Mr. Kilpear was looking at some girl at the other end of the line). "And you?" She was trying to sound cold. She just came off nervous.

"Danny. Fenton," I said coolly. "Half-ghost."

She stepped back. "The Danny Fenton? Dear Lord, I recognize you. My boy went to school with you." She held out her hand, and I tentatively shook it. "I'm from Amity, sweetheart. Agatha Kilpear."

I must've looked relatively disgusted because she straightened up and looked at me. "It was my husband's idea to come here," she whispered. "Not mine. And just so you know, I really don't think you ought to be here. The city's a wreck and your parents just can't handle it by themselves."

Allen and the girl on my other side were staring at me.

"Erm - thanks, I think."

She suddenly became serious. "We could get you ought of here. By law we'd technically own you but it would get you back to Amity and we'd let you stay with your parents."

"I have a choice?" I asked softly. It didn't seem normal. True, this whole place was filled with choices - what to eat, what to wear, what to do. But all of the important things were out of our control entirely.

Mark came up behind Mrs. Kilpear and said, "Your husband has decided. I'm sorry, but it is time to escort you off the premises."

She jumped, and turned around. She opened her mouth to protest, but allowed herself to be taken away by Mark instead.

So much for that. I leaned into the wall sadly and waited to be dismissed.