A/N: How did the word count change that drastically? My file says 1907, this one says 1703. Weird.
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any characters or plots associated with it, nor am I making any money off of this.
Chapter Eighteen
Despite how happy I was to see our gigantic neon sign again, I was freaking nervous. As far as they were concerned, I'd simply run away, promised never to come home, and called them once a month to remind them of the same thing. Even if they still loved me (and, as the time of reckoning drew closer, that became a larger and larger if), they probably weren't too happy with me. I guess I'll have to rely on Jazz . . . I thought, then realized that it was eleven thirty in the morning, and she'd be at school. Unless it was a Saturday . . . What day of the week was it, anyway?
My thoughts became extremely jumbled, a strange mixture of relief and fright overtaking me. It occurred to me once that even if they didn't like me much anymore, I'd be so busy with ghost fighting I wouldn't have to deal with them much after this initial encounter, anyway. But only briefly. And it wasn't the most reassuring thought, anyway.
Finally, 480 stopped the car. He leaned over me and fished in the glove compartment for something, pulled out what looked to be a book, and got out, gesturing for me to do the same.
I slid out of the front seat, and immediately felt my legs start to quiver beneath me. By sheer force of will, I stilled them, and walked over to stand next to 480. I guess if they kill me I'll have a government witness, I thought sourly. Not that I have much faith left in the government, anyway. I then mentally slapped myself. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts . . .
480 walked up to the door, and I followed, keeping about a foot between us. He rang the doorbell. I half hoped they wouldn't answer, and that I'd be left here to deal with them on my own time.
No such luck. It wasn't long before I heard my father's heavy footsteps, and he opened the door, a dull expression on his face.
"Yes?" he said. "You need something?"
480 reached into his jacket, and pulled out something I couldn't quite see from my spot directly behind him, presumably a badge. I wondered why Dad hadn't noticed me yet, then I remembered: he was never the most observant man on the planet.
"I am Agent 480 of the Guys in White . . ."
"Guys in White? Did you . . .?" Dad started, and I sighed. Here goes.
"Dad?" I stepped out from behind 480. Dad's eyes widened, and I forced myself not to become invisible and run for it.
"Danny? Danny, is that really . . ." But he never finished, and I was caught up in a bone-crushing hug before I really knew what was happening. I returned the embrace after I recovered from the shock.
After several minutes of this, Dad straightened up. "Danny . . ." he started, another sentence never to be finished. "Maddie! It's Danny!" He turned away briefly to shout this, and 480 looked at me. I smiled.
Mom, of course, was at the door in record time. "Danny, Danny, Danny . . ." she knelt down and gave me the same kind of bear hug Dad had give me. "I'm so glad . . . we didn't think . . . you said . . ."
"I know." She let go after a shorter period of time then Dad.
"The first time a cop brings you home and . . . What were you doing?" She straightened up and looked at 480. "What was my son doing? Where did you find him?"
"Actually, ma'am, I'm with the GIW. I believe Danny will explain things to you . . . but I have to go." He turned to leave, obviously uncomfortable with my parents' show of emotion.
"Wait! If you're with the Guys in White, why did you bring him back? Not that I'm not grateful, but . . ."
480 looked at her. "Your son will explain everything to you. I'm in a bit of a hurry, ma'am, please." With that, he quickly scrambled back to his sedan, and drove off.
Mom and Dad turned back to me. "Danny . . ." Dad said.
"I'm back Dad, don't worry. And I will tell you everything . . . but first . . . what day of the week is it?"
Both of them gave me odd looks. "It's Sunday," Mom informed me. "Danny, come inside . . ."
It felt weird to be invited into my own house, but I followed without question. I inhaled the familiar scent gratefully. "Oh . . ." I sighed happily. "It's so good to be back . . . Where's Jazz?"
"She's out shopping. Do you want me to call her?"
"Go ahead," I said, smiling gratefully. Mom leaned over and kissed me on the head before running off into the kitchen. Dad pulled me over to me.
"I . . . Danny," he said. "Why'd you go?"
"Trust me, I didn't want to," I said. "I'll tell you everything when Jazz gets here, okay?"
Dad nodded reluctantly, and motioned to the living room. I walked over to the couch, and he stayed right behind me.
We waited there for a few minutes before Mom walked into the room, almost in a daze. "She's coming," she said, a few stray tears falling down her face. It wasn't all that long before I was being hugged again, by both parents.
"Do you have any idea how much we've missed you?" Mom asked. "You just disappeared, and after we found out you were the ghost boy, and now you're being brought home by the GIW . . ."
"I really didn't want to go, Mom, and as I told Dad, I'll tell you when Jazz gets here . . . I only want to tell the story once. Actually, do you think I could call Sam and Tucker?"
Mom blinked, and both parents pulled back. "Of course, s-sweetie," she said, smiling at me.
I got up to go into the kitchen, and acted like I didn't notice that both of them were following me. I knew they didn't want me to 'run off' again. I didn't blame them. I'd been gone for three months, after all.
I picked up the phone, still in the same spot as always, and dialed Tucker's number. I figured I owed it to him to call him first. It rang only two times before being picked up.
"Hello?" came Tucker's voice, completely lacking his old energy.
"Tucker?" I said, and there was a long pause.
"Man? Is that you?" Tucker finally asked. "Really?"
"Yeah, Tuck, it's me. Could you come over to . . . my parents' house? I, well, just kinda got back, and I'd like to tell you guys what happened . . ." There was another pause, and then I realized Tucker was crying.
"Danny . . . Yeah, sure, I'll be right over. Dude . . ." The line went dead. I sighed. I knew he only lived a block away, and that he was probably in some sort of daze. I dialed Sam's number. This time I had to wait for five rings.
"Yeah? Which one of the Fentons is this? Did Danny call again?"
"You might say that," I said, and chuckled. "It's me, Sam."
"Danny? Is that . . . Really, you know, you? Where have you been, for Pete's sake?" There was a definite hitch in her voice.
"I'll tell you when you get here. Just come over."
"Don't ever leave me again, Danny," she said softly.
"I won't. I swear."
"See you in a few."
"Right." She hung up, and I sighed, sliding down to the kitchen floor. They were all coming. I'd see them all again, tell them my story, and then get to work. Thinking about that made me smile. I'd finally get to make up for failing so miserably before. Actually, thinking at all made me happy. Then something occurred to me.
I got up and walked back into the living room, where my parents had slinked back to after I'd called Sam.
"Why aren't you two out ghost hunting?" I asked them. "The town's a wreck."
"The Red Huntress offered to give us the day off. We've been wearing ourselves thin ever since . . ." Mom said, giving me a meaningful look, and wiped one of her eyes. "I hear Jazz's car . . ."
And sure enough, Jazz soon came bounding in, Tucker on her heels.
"Danny!" both of them yelled at the same time, nearly tackling me. Jazz latched onto me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.
"Jazz . . . need . . . oxygen . . ." I rasped. She let go, and stared at me, teary-eyed. Tucker reached out to help me up, and I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't holding his PDA. I shrugged it off.
After all three of us were standing again, Tucker swallowed. "We thought you were dead," he said.
Jazz turned to him, while still looking at me. "No, you thought he was dead," Jazz clarified, wiping her nose. Tucker smiled at her.
"And you went on a crazy media-hating spree." Tucker looked at her for a minute, then looked at me, and I finally got bombarded with another hug.
"We missed you so much, man. You'll never know."
I shrugged, and returned the hug. "Thank you," I said as I pulled away. "You obviously didn't tell anyone."
"What hap-" Tuck started, and was then cut off by Mom.
"Tell anyone what, Tucker?" she said in her most intimidating voice.
"Erm . . ."
"I asked not to tell anyone where I was . . . Or, where I thought I would be, I guess. Look, can we just wait till Sam gets here? Then I'll tell you all everything."
Mom nodded, eyes narrowed slightly at Tucker. But I could tell she was too happy to really be seriously mad. Jazz hugged me again.
"We really did think we'd never see you again," she whispered.
I was ripped from Jazz's arms when I was tackled once again, this time by Sam. If I thought my sister had held on tight . . .
"Danny! I didn't think . . . Oh my gosh . . . Danny . . ." She started sobbing uncontrollably into my shoulder, then sat up and slapped me across the face. Hard.
I rubbed my face. "What was that for?" I asked.
"You just . . ." With that, she started sobbing again. I started to sit up, and she got off of me, wiping her eyes.
"I'm . . . sorry," she said. "I don't know . . ."
I grinned. "Don't worry, Sam. Everything will be all right."
She inhaled deeply, the breathed out in a long sigh, calming down. She hiccoughed once, then leaned back and stood up. I, for the umpteenth time that day, did the same. "Are you going to tell us where the heck you've been or not?"
"Yeah," Tucker shoved in. My parents and Jazz smiled supportively. I looked at them, my friends, my family, the people I loved more than anything.
"Of course. But you're going to want to sit down. It's a long story."