Author's Introduction:

This chapter, which I'm more than happy to finally finish and post, goes out with a smile to all the people, both here and on DeviantART, who showed me by their reviews, comments, and other well-wishes that they were just as interested in seeing how this story turned out as I was. Thank you all so much—it does my heart so good to hear such nice things! I'm so glad you're all having fun with this. I am, too!

I've got two more fanart sketches burning a hole in my brain, but Shibby-One's wicked art pieces for "Addict" and "Ordinary World" made me hyper to dive back into this. Her art is fabulous, and I command you to go look at it when you are through with this chapter.

http://www. deviantart. com / deviation / 43615219 /

Go! I command you!

Have another fic percolating in my head, too, for when this is done. But not, not, not before this one is finished!

Chapter five, locked, loaded, done!

Eye of the Beholder

A Danny Phantom fanfiction

Chapter Five: Something's Started Crazy

Something's started crazy—

Sweet and unknown.

Something you keep

In a box on the street—

Now it's longing for a home.

And who can say what dreams are?

Wake me in time to be lonely and sad.

And who can say what we are?

This is the season for dreaming…

(The Guilty Ones, from Spring Awakening, music by D. Sheik, lyrics by S. Sater)

"Oh, Danny, I don't know," Sam said.

"Please, Sam. You'll like it. I promise," Danny cajoled. "How long have we known each other and we've never done this?"

"It's so big," she said, almost a whisper.

"You'll be fine." He grinned wickedly at her. "Just put your lips together and suck as hard as you can."

A smile crept across her lips. "…Okay. But I want you to know, I wouldn't do this with just anybody."

"Why do you think we came here? I wanted to share something special with you." Turning in his chair, Danny called to a waiter and held up two fingers. " 'Scuse me! Can we get a vanilla please? Two straws?" He turned to Sam. "Butterscotch?"

She licked her lips, sending a spark through his veins. "Yes, please."

Danny glanced over at the carvings on the Nasty Burger table as the shake was brought to them. According to the menu, it was a "bottomless" shake, which could be ordered in any flavor and topped with any kind of candy you wanted. No one had ever finished one by themselves, but a lot of people had gotten very sick trying.

They each unwrapped the paper from their straws in silence, like duelists selecting rapiers. Their gazes locked as they slid the straws through the thick butterscotch and vanilla blend.

"Ready?" Danny asked. "Set?"

Sam grinned.

"Go, go, go!"

They attacked the shake, Sam's bangs touching his forehead, giggling around the straws. Their noses brushed as they fought for butterscotch.

Snaking a hand towards the large glass, Danny tried to pinch Sam's straw between his thumb and forefinger.

Sam squeaked an exclamation around her straw, whacking at Danny's forearm. He was glad he'd changed clothes—not into a suit, as he'd teased Sam, but into a newer pair of jeans and a darker, long-sleeved shirt. The cotton was absorbing most of the impact.

"Sam. Sam!" he laughed, shocked and pleased by her aggression, and then suddenly the game was over and he was just looking at her. She was…giggling.

Sam rarely giggled. Her laughter had run alongside his entire life like a soundtrack—a carbonated sound when she was excited; dark, dark chocolate when she was content. But this sugary giggle was new; her eyes sparkling and her nose wrinkling over her smile. If he hadn't thought she'd kill him for saying it, he would have called it cute.

The smile faded slowly as she noticed him gazing into her eyes. A thoughtful expression overtook her, and she leaned in close. The unexpected intimacy of it startled Danny; they'd only been so close a handful of times, but now he was standing on the edge of those eyes without warning and there was no imminent danger to break the moment, no magic love spell to tell him what to do. His heart sputtered and stalled as their breath mingled. Sam's lashes drooped over her eyes, and she touched her lips—

—to his straw.

Danny's eyes shot wide. "Oh, no you didn't," he said.

She smiled wickedly around the straw. "Mmmmmm," she purred. "Butterscotch."

The sound made his chest tighten with longing. His blood was bubbling with a need to pull her to him, slip his tongue past her lips and taste the butterscotch in her kiss. That smile remained on her face as she released his straw and nudged it to him.

"We don't have to race," she said, almost a whisper. "We can share."

We have time, he realized, relaxing. What he felt for Sam was too good to rush, and he knew somehow that all the pieces would fall into place. Till then…

"Mmm," he agreed, smiling at Sam. "Butterscotch."

The alley behind the Nasty Burger had never seen sunlight. The shadows added to the chill that clung to the bricks and concrete; Tucker half expected someone to come around the corner and offer to sell him the Maltese Falcon from inside their trench coat. As it was, the person meeting him came close.

"Don't you think you're overdoing this?" Tucker asked dryly as Valerie lowered her sunglasses and glared from beneath the bill of her Nasty Burger visor. Her free hand yanked her nylon track jacket a little tighter around her.

"I'm traveling incognito," she hissed. "Do you think I want anyone to see me meeting you in the back alley behind the Nasty Burger like this?"

Tucker's mouth snapped shut. "If I didn't need your help for this, I'd walk out on you right now."

"Need my help for what?" Valerie asked, eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. "What's this all about, Foley?"

"It's about my video essay," Tucker admitted, displaying the video camera that was strapped to his hand. "I haven't got a single frame of film that I can use. It's due really soon and I refuse to fail this assignment."

Valerie tossed her head haughtily. "Maybe if you hadn't tried to film Girls Gone Wild: Foley Style, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"You make it sound like I got some usable footage out of that incident," Tucker grumbled. "Come on, Val. I'd help you!"

Valerie snorted. "No, you wouldn't!"

"What makes you say that?" Tucker asked, genuinely hurt.

"Simple—I'd never get myself into a mess like this. How is any of this my problem?" Valerie rolled turquoise eyes. "I had my footage in two days. I'm just waiting to get into the editing room!"

Tucker frowned, folding his arms. "Well, pin a rose on your nose."

"You are wasting my time, and it's chilly out here," Valerie complained, crossing her arms over her chest and stamping her feet. "Can you just get on with this?"

"Love," Tucker said.

That got her attention; her turquoise eyes sparked with curiosity.

"I realized that I need to film what I love," Tucker continued, heartened by her expression. "And I can't make a film about what I love without you."

Valerie looked nervous. Incredibly nervous. She even backed up a few steps before the real meaning of what Tucker said hit her. "Wait a minute. You're kidding. You are not serious about this, Foley."

"I am dead serious." Quickly, Tucker outlined his plan. Valerie, despite herself, couldn't help looking intrigued, and Tucker picked up on her interest. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

Unable to deny the steely glance in his pale eyes, Valerie sighed as though it were an effort for her. "All right. I have to close up, you know, sweep the floors and stuff. Do you mind waiting around for a little, and then you can tell me exactly what I have to do to help you?"

Tucker grinned. "I can do better than that."

"Don't you need a permit to do this?" Valerie asked once they were back inside the restaurant. She was still grasping for a way to talk Tucker out of his plan.

"Yeah, probably," the techno-geek chuckled. "Relax, Val! I've got everything covered." Swinging his backpack off his shoulder, he propped it on one of the empty tables. "Check out my latest, greatest advance in technology."

Valerie's expression grew more and more skeptical as she watched him swap his glasses for another pair he'd had in the backpack. They looked older and a little more beaten-up—a thin crack ran along the curve of the left lens—but the most obvious difference was the bulky cylinder taped haphazardly to one of the earpieces. The cylinder had a wire snaking back into the backpack. "Glasses-cam!" Tucker announced. "How do I look?"

Valerie made an odd noise. "Like you've been assimilated by the Borg. Tucker, no one is going to ignore that thing."

"You are so negative," Tucker dismissed her. "I told you, leave everything to me. This time I can't fail."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Valerie turned her back on him, searching in a corner for the broom and dustpan.

Tucker laughed, adjusting the "glasses-cam". "Look, I didn't win the elections for school president in freshman year. The Miss Teenage Happy Princess judging didn't quite work out, and I just got detention for trying to film in the girls' locker room. Probability dictates I'm due for something good!"

Resurfacing with the dustpan, Valerie smiled—a weak smile, but a smile all the same. "Tucker, you failed your probability midterm. Remember? Sam had to tutor you so you could pass your final."

Holding up his index finger, Tucker corrected her. "I did not fail my probability midterm. I was in danger of failing my probability midterm. Danny failed his probability midterm. Sam was already tutoring him, and it didn't bother her to throw an extra person in."

"Not the point." Valerie threw the dustpan down on the floor. "How can you always be so positive you've got things locked?"

Instead of looking insulted, Tucker grinned. "What kind of optimist would I be if I didn't?" Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he added, "Nice guys don't always finish last, Val. You watch me. Someday I'll prove it."

Valerie, for her part, only shook her head, but there was a twist to her mouth that almost looked like a smile. "Okay. Wow me, Foley."

"I'm about to." Tucker drew himself up to his full height, then strode to the center of the dining area. "Watch me get a perfect establishing shot."

Since it was so close to closing time, the empty tables were shining clean under low light, setting his scene—except for one table near the back.

A familiar table—

"Danny? Sam?" Tucker adjusted his glasses. "What are they doing here?"

Valerie peered over his shoulder, still holding the broom. "Oh, them? They came in about an hour ago and ordered the biggest shake we had, but they finished it a while back. I think he's just stalling now." The last was said wryly. "Not that she minds being stalled, I'm sure."

Tucker felt mildly sorry for Valerie, at least regarding Danny. She'd given it the old college try, but she'd let her own agenda get in the way. Not that it would have mattered in the end, in Tucker's opinion—Danny and Sam were simply one of those things that was written in stars and catalogued in complicated songs or old books with brittle, fragile pages.

And seeing how happy his best friends looked, quietly ensconced in a corner of their favorite haunt, just pleased to be in each other's company, Tucker couldn't see it as anything other than a good thing.

Still, he felt the need to lighten up the situation and possibly cheer up his brooding companion. "Let's go embarrass them."

Valerie sprang to life, dropping the broomstick. "What? Tucker, no."

"Come on! It'll be funny, promise. Besides, don't you want to close up and go home?" He started to drag her by the hand, but she pulled roughly out of his grasp.

"No way. Just because I'm offended by their disgusting moo-moo fluffy bunny love for each other doesn't mean we should embarrass them."

Hiding his laughter at the use of the words "disgusting moo-moo fluffy bunny" to describe anything involving Sam, Tucker silently gave Valerie a point for courtesy. "Okay, okay, but let's go say hello at least."

"I do have to close," Valerie mused, but poked a finger into Tucker's chest. "Don't embarrass them. Or us."

"I promise to be a perfect gentleman." Tucker headed towards the back. Valerie's snort of disbelief alerted Danny and Sam to their presence; it was hard to tell who looked more startled.

"Tucker! What are you doing here?" Danny asked, fingertips playing nervously around the base of an empty glass with two straws poking out of it. Sam's violet eyes were darting from Tucker to Valerie and back again.

"Working out something for my video essay," the techno-geek said smoothly. "Speaking of, wasn't that what you two were supposed to be doing tonight?"

The "psychic connection" between Danny and Sam sparked to life. They actually began a joint explanation.

"Ice cream," Sam said. "Danny wanted to go out for ice cream—"

"She came by," Danny joined in, blushing. "I said, let's go out. You know, she looked so pretty—"

"He said, let's get a shake," she said. "And the next thing you know, it's so—"

"Late. We started late," Danny picked up. "Sam had a thing—"

"It ended early," the goth said, nodding, waving the idea away. "It was lame, anyway—"

And then Danny stopped stammering. His face was very sure as he protested, "Sam! It wasn't lame. You were great."

Valerie and Tucker looked confused—but not nearly as confused as Sam, whose eyebrows were arched and whose lips were working in a way that said she knew Danny had just given away something key, but she wasn't sure what.

Tucker wanted to smack Danny upside the head. Meanwhile, Valerie was insistently jamming her foot down on his—either she wanted to know what was going on, or she wanted to leave. Possibly both.

Helplessly, Sam finished with, "We didn't mean to…get ice cream…behind your back."

Danny's hand had been resting near the salt and pepper shakers; now it jingled. Flipping his keys up like sleight-of-hand, he said, "It's later than I thought actually. I should get Sam home before her family starts to worry. Or puts out another restraining order." Flashing that million-dollar grin, he rose from the booth and gallantly offered his hand to Sam.

The goth took it and pulled herself to her feet. "'Get Sam home'. What are you talking about, Danny? I drove here!"

Suddenly the stammering was over; his friends were their same selves again and the spell was broken. Tucker and Valerie both muffled laughter into their fists, not very quietly. Danny, for his part, took the teasing good-naturedly. "A minor, minor detail, Ms. Manson. Shall we?" He slid his arm through hers.

Waggling his eyebrows, Tucker took his parting shot. "Thought you said you didn't have a date tonight, Sam?"

Danny glared daggers at Tucker; Valerie slammed an elbow into his stomach. Everyone waited for Sam to drop Danny's arm and stammer some excuse or hot retort.

But she didn't do any of that. She glanced down at their intertwined arms, then treated Tucker to a sweet smile that was totally at odds with her sexy outfit. "A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Tuck," she said lightly, then raised her free hand to pat Danny's arm. "Come on, I think you said something about escorting me home."

The expression of flattered delight on Danny's face was so priceless that Tucker fervently hoped his glasses-cam worked. Contrary to what he'd led Valerie to believe, he hadn't quite finished beta-testing it before sending it on this maiden voyage.

When the ghost and the goth were gone, Valerie sank into the side of the booth Sam had been sitting in. "I think I've had enough for one night."

Tucker took Danny's seat. "I'll help you sweep up and stuff."

She angled a turquoise glance at him. "Really?"

He shrugged. "It's the least I can do. I know we argue a lot and I give you tons of crap, but I really appreciate you helping me out with this."

After a minute's consideration, she decided he was sincere and her lips twitched upward in a sort of smile. "That's pretty cool of you."

He treated her to a smile of his own, then tapped his earpiece. "See? What'd I tell you—Danny and Sam didn't even notice my…" He trailed off, his eyes catching sight of something at the far end of the table.

Valerie snorted. "The way they were looking at each other, they weren't noticing anything else."

Tucker had to agree. He'd just found the reason Danny's keys had been out despite the fact that Sam had driven to the restaurant. In the corner of the table, nearly hidden by the salt and pepper shakers, the words Tucker Rulez were still clearly visible. The initials D.F. and S.M. were still there, too—but someone had spent the evening carving a crooked heart around them.

Maybe Danny Fenton wasn't the best student in the world, but ever since the accident in the ghost portal, he'd been learning. Learning how to fly, learning how to fight. Learning new strengths, new weaknesses, new abilities.

But now he was thinking of the most important lesson, the one that still sometimes woke him up cold and scared in the middle of the night. Long ago, on a night the stars fell from the sky, he'd learned that life without Sam was empty. Boring. Lonely. Later, in the cozy dark of a movie theater, he'd secretly vowed never to forget that lesson. He kept the fear sharp in his heart, to remind him of that bitter void she'd leave if he lost her, and remade the promise every day, every night. He would not lose her.

I won't, he thought fiercely, for the billionth time since that distant blue night. I promise!

"You won't what?" Sam asked, trying to keep one eye on the road and one on him.

Blood heated Danny's face as he realized he'd spoken aloud into the quiet of the car.

"Hey," she said, smiling at him. "Are you okay?"

There it was. Another perfect segue in a lifetime of missed opportunities. There were a million ways to start.

I have to talk to you.

Sam, there's something I want to tell you…

Sam, I…

Instead of any of that, he settled back against the passenger seat. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

She laughed. "Danny, I always like being with you. You ought to know that after almost two decades."

"I like being with you, too," he said softly. "Don't ever forget that, okay?"

She'd put a jazz station on the radio instead of her omnipresent Nightwish CD. Danny suddenly wanted to tell her to keep driving, to just go anywhere. The windshield was a painting of stars and road in front of them and they could go anywhere, do anything they wanted. He was surprised by the sharp pang of disappointment in his heart when she navigated the Mustang to the curb in front of Fentonworks.

She turned off the engine, but left the keys in the ignition swinging shiny, then dull, then shiny in the light; she didn't say goodbye or make the movements associated with the end of an evening. She just settled back against her seat, making herself comfortable as he had done.

The car felt unbelievably safe to Danny. There was no one but the two of them, wrapped in dark and silence and warmth.

"Thank you for the shake," Sam said softly. "I was just teasing about you paying for it."

Danny smiled at her. "Don't be silly. I asked you out, so I paid. If it makes you feel better, you can pay when you ask me out."

Her smile was a beacon in the dark of the car. "Deal."

He chuckled, glancing out the window. "So you had fun, even though we didn't get attacked by ghosts, chased by demon animals, or critically injured?"

Both of her hands clamped around one of his with the speed of a striking snake, startling him. "Did you hear me before? Always."

Danny's breath hitched at the excitement of the unexpected touch, the way her eyes were shining with a frenzied light in the dark of the car—that ferocious love, that shining attention, focused intently on him, just him. Dreamily, he raised his free hand and closed it over hers, squeezing a little. He wanted to kiss her—how he wanted to kiss her.

"Always…" he whispered back. It wasn't a question.

Sam brought his hand to her mouth. Eyes closing, she smacked her lips against it in three exaggerated kisses.

Danny blushed to his toes.

"Always," Sam repeated. "Okay?"

A flicker at the edge of the night got both their attention—the porch light flashing on, then off, then on again.

Sam turned her head, the light strobing over her amused expression. "Think it's your mom? Or your dad?"

"If Jazz wasn't at college, I'd say it was her." Danny frowned at the door, appearing and disappearing in the blink of the light. "Who do they think I am? Greg Brady?"

Her laugh was a surprised burst of sound in the small space. "Better get inside then, before they think…something!"

Danny's mind raced deliciously with what kind of "something" could involve the two of them in a car late at night. But he reached for the door handle with a sigh. Their "date" was over.

"Good night," she whispered, blushing.

"Call you tomorrow," he answered, feeling so awkward, his body protesting at the thought of leaving her.

After she'd driven away and he couldn't see the Mustang's taillights anymore, he could still feel the ghost of her kiss on his hand. Even when he thought the night was over, she still managed to surprise him. A good-night kiss—sort of. He smiled.

The porch light was still flashing on and off, like an alarm call. "She's gone already," he spat as he fumbled for his keys. "You can stop doing that now."

The door swung open, and he stared down the barrel of a very unfriendly-looking laser rifle. A high-pitched whine signaled its warming-up, and Danny had barely two seconds to dive sideways off the stoop.

Sam's kiss was erased by the scratch of concrete at his face and hands. Sky and street blurred into a pinwheel as he rolled. Over the blood pounding in his ears, he heard a voice call, "Come out here and fight like a man, ghost!"

Danny spoke from behind his arms, which he was using to cover his face in case the laser misfired. Unbelievably, he was starting to get used to being accidentally threatened with weapons by members of his family. He made sure his words were loud and clear, so that his father wouldn't blast him before he was through explaining. "It's Danny, Dad. Danny. I was out with Sam. Put the rifle down please?"

Danny felt one of his father's huge hands on the back of his neck, as if he were hauling a puppy up by its scruff. "Danny? What are you doing out here, son?"

Relaxing at the sight of Jack's grin, Danny repeated, "I was out with Sam. Don't flicker the porch light when you want me to come in, okay? It's embarrassing."

"Porch light?" Jack Fenton lowered the laser rifle, pushing his goggles up to his forehead and swinging a confused glance from his son to the light. His face nearly split in a grin. "This isn't a porch light, Danny, it's my new alarm system! It's supposed to flash on and off when a ghost approaches the house!" Then his brow furrowed once again. "Darn thing doesn't seem to work, though, it had me thinking you were a ghost. Lousy addle-circuited…"

Abandoning the laser rifle in favor of a screwdriver, Jack turned back to a plate installed near the front door, muttering curses of his own invention until a thought struck him. Turning abruptly, he halted Danny's attempt to sneak past him into the house. "Danny, it's nearly midnight. What are you doing out this late?"

Danny blushed and cursed himself for it. There was nothing to be ashamed of—but somehow, even just the memory of Sam's arm brushing his as she shifted the Mustang's gears, the scent of her in the enclosed space, the feeling of her lips on his skin…it overheated his blood and made him grin like a fool. Unable to help shuffling his feet before his father, he explained. "I took Sam out for ice cream, Dad. Mom knew where we were—she saw us leave. I just…lost track of time, you know?" He cringed and waited for judgment.

But Jack just smiled, his eyes softening as he gazed into a middle distance. "I never look at the clock when I'm with Maddie, either."

The two Fenton men shared a smile, and for the first time, Danny didn't feel the need to correct his father about Sam. Despite the functional insanity of the Fenton household, Danny secretly knew that his parents had a love that few people managed to find in their lifetime. Jack bumbled and stumbled and forgot every birthday, every anniversary, but he loved his Maddie more than anything in the world, and everyone knew it. Danny wanted Jack to think he'd taken Sam out on a date—wanted his father to think that he had something special, too.

Patting his son's shoulder in an unnaturally gentle manner, Jack winked. "Don't make too much noise on the way to your room. There's no need for your mother to worry that you're not in yet."

Danny hurried into the house and up the stairs, grateful not only that he wasn't in trouble for missing curfew, but that he'd escaped the laser rifle yet again.

The captive lay down, unable to weep, feeling as though he were freezing from the inside out. Sometimes he would dream, and he would see sunlight and feel the ground beneath his feet; but wakefulness would dispel that and tighten his chest with the wanting. He would return to pacing his prison. Desperate to escape these tantalizing phantasms, he would forgo sleep for as long as possible; his eyes burned and his head ached with strain.

He could feel himself giving up. Every time his eyes slid closed, he would hope they did not open again.

When Danny had been younger, he'd curled beneath his sheets with a flashlight and many a Crimson Chin comic book, letting action and adventure lull him to sleep. This was slightly different.

Now, he lay beneath the covers, the light from the digital screen of the video camera eliminating the need for a flashlight. He kept the volume low, afraid someone might hear and wonder why he was watching the footage he'd taken of Sam, over and over again.

He had an idea that he liked for the beginning and the end of the video, but it involved being in Sam's room—not just outside her window but in her room. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sneak in and out, even if he were intangible. She had this way of noticing him, even in the air around her.

A smile curved his lips at the thought. For years, there had been a joke about a "psychic connection" between himself and Sam. Danny knew better. She was simply sensitive to him, attuned to him like no one else; and he to her. He liked that…

His lashes drooped over his eyes, Sam's voice speaking her poem to him again as he drifted off.

"They do not come, not sleep, not love, not he I want…"

He would come to her, if only she would want it, he lamented silently. He'd keep her up all night with the touch of his hands, lull her to sleep with kisses, promise her over and over how happy he'd make her…

…if only she would want it.

Valerie worked at the Nasty Burger, so naturally she was much too smart to eat anything that came out of its kitchen. Unfortunately, she also worked the early shift on weekends, and she rarely got a chance to eat a decent breakfast before she left the house, so she spent the majority of the morning shift starving.

Which was why Tucker won a lot of points by showing up with a bacon and cheese bagel before the restaurant opened.

"I cannot believe that you are awake before six AM," she muttered, her feet dragging as she approached the cheery techno-geek.

Tucker smiled. "Here, catch."

He tossed her a foil-wrapped something and she barely had time to reach up to grab it out of the air. The scent of real meat tickled her nose. "Ooh."

"Enjoy it, because we've got a lot of work to do today," Tucker warned. "You sure you're up for this?"

Valerie's smirk was wicked. "Bring it on, Foley."

"It has been brought, Gray."

Together, the two marched into the Nasty Burger.

Five hours later, Tucker came flying back out the double doors. His camera followed, thunking squarely down on his head, then clattering to a stop at his side. Luckily for him, the footage it held was not too damaged to edit and hand in…

All day Danny wondered how to get his establishing shots for the beginning and end of his film. His idea was simple—in fact, it was his lie that had helped him come up with it.

He'd told Sam that the videos were about the subject's daily routine, which wasn't true, but he more he thought about it, the more he actually liked the idea. Sam was beautiful; she made the most ordinary day special just by waking up in it. It might be interesting to start the video with her waking up and ending with her falling asleep. It was sort of clichéd, which meant that Lancer—the king of clichés and the worshipful sycophant of all things stereotypical—would lap it up like cream.

The only problem was that he didn't know how to obtain the shots. Waiting outside her window with a zoom lens wouldn't work a second time. He didn't want the video to start looking like a creepy stalker's diary. He'd need to be inside her room to get the angles he wanted and give the viewers the feeling that they were close to Sam, the way he felt so close to her. But if he just phased through the wall, Sam would definitely notice his presence.

Finally, late that night, he decided to just go for it. He had to wrap up his footage. The class had been in and out of the editing labs for the past week, and they'd only have three days left to work. Thursday and Friday of the next week the projects were being screened. Lancer had hinted that the order would be random, and woe betide the student who wasn't ready when their name was called.

And although Danny would never admit it to himself, a small, secret part of him—the part of him that came to bright life as Danny Phantom and feared no evil—almost hoped that Sam would catch him. Then maybe she'd ask questions, back him into a corner until he'd be forced to admit even part of the truth.

Danny could never be labeled a goth, but he still really liked Sam's room. He wasn't sure if he liked it just for the fun of the outlandish décor, or because it was hers.

Despite his love for outer space, Danny had been afraid of the dark as a child. Granted, he'd been afraid of a lot of things despite himself—ghosts being first and foremost, no matter how many anti-ghost weapons his parents had showed him (or nearly blasted him with). But Sam had loved the dark, had run to greet it with arms open wide, and through her, slowly, Danny had learned that there was nothing to fear. Sam had taught him that the shadows promised safety, and stars couldn't be seen in the harsh light of day. Sam's room was a constant reminder of that lesson, a softly lit haven of quiet night.

And it was hers. She slept there and dreamed there and everything in it held the scent of sugar and spice that belonged to her.

He felt a little pang of guilt as he went intangible and slid through the wall. He loved Sam's room and hated the idea of sneaking into it like a thief.

He needn't have worried. In fact, Sam didn't even notice the slight chill that accompanied his presence; she was preoccupied.

She had her back to the wall he phased through; she was pulling a black fishnet shirt on over a skimpy black camisole and a black skirt. He felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed that he hadn't caught her in a more severe state of undress. As he watched, she threw a worn black backpack onto her bed. The flaps were frayed, and Danny could see the darker lines of new stitching where it had been repaired in places.

Hello, he thought, hovering over Sam's shoulder as she headed for her dresser and opened the bottom drawer. What is she doing?

Danny smiled as he dodged sexy miniskirts and flirty camisoles, but when she resurfaced with a first-aid kit, a fleecy blanket, a Swiss Army knife and a large pair of wire-clippers, the situation seemed decidedly less funny.

All those items went into the bag. Next, Sam walked across the room to the possession that Danny was probably the most jealous of—her mini-fridge. Given her parents' prolonged campaign to force her to wear pink and be cheerful, Sam was often besieged in her room for long periods of time, saved from starvation by the well-stocked appliance.

But the things in the plastic container she took out of the fridge were definitely not edible. He was not afraid to lean over her shoulder in the chill of the open door, so he was close enough to see her open the lid and examine the contents—grasshoppers. They were decidedly…dead.

Sam, his precious, ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, hated-PETA-because-people-were-animals-too, love-for-all-living-things Sam, was not the kind of person who kept dead things in her refrigerator.

In the time it took Danny to get very very nervous, Sam had put everything into the backpack and started downstairs.

Her parents were reading at opposite ends of the living room; Mr. Manson was settled in an armchair with The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People while Mrs. Manson was posture-perfect on the sofa with a women's magazine. Danny didn't like the look of it; a big brightly-colored feature on the cover read "This Month's Quiz: Why Your Daughter Dates Dummies". They didn't even seem to notice Sam, so Danny wondered why she lingered in the entryway, calling attention to herself. She even went so far as to announce, "I'm going out," but her voice was flat, as if she wasn't expecting a reaction.

And she didn't get one. There were a few murmurs from her parents, but neither looked up from their literature. Sam rolled her eyes and continued into the foyer while Danny Phantom treated the Mansons to an invisible frown. He didn't care for Sam's parents, who fluctuated between ignoring their daughter and trying to change her.

Before he could rattle the table lamps to give them a well-deserved scare, the purr of a Rascal announced the arrival of Sam's grandmother, who maneuvered her motorized chair skillfully in front of the front door to block Sam's escape. "Not so fast, bubuleh," the old woman laughed. "Where are we off to tonight?"

Sam glanced back at the living room, then lowered her voice excitedly. "Secret mission, Grandma. I just needed some cover of darkness."

Sam's grandmother grinned, and Danny saw for a moment a younger, more vibrant woman, who'd probably spent her youth raging against her own machines. He smiled. He liked Sam's grandmother, who seemed to be the only member of Sam's family who loved Sam just the way she was. She was also the only member of Sam's family who didn't think he was a bad influence on Sam.

"Do you have everything you need?" Sam's grandmother asked.

Danny waited for Sam to lie, but instead the goth ticked everything off on her fingers. "Yup. Wire clippers, first aid kit, blanket, knife. Oh, and some grasshoppers."

"Gloves, Sam. You'll hurt your hands without them," Sam's grandmother said sagely.

"Oh! Good idea!" Sam headed for the coat rack and fished in the pocket of her father's coat, coming up with a pair of leather gloves. Unlike the well-used backpack or the blanket, which was starting to get pilly and worn, the gloves looked expensive and Danny had to wonder for the fiftieth time what she intended to do with them. They dwarfed her small hands as she slipped them on.

"Now you're ready." Sam's grandmother grinned, proud of her warrior granddaughter. "Be careful, Sammy. I want a full report when you get back."

"Aye aye, ma'am." Sam leaned over and kissed her grandmother. Satisfied with the inspection, the old woman moved the Rascal out of the way to let Sam out the door. The goth hurried into the night, and the ghost boy followed.

The captive raised his head to the sound of footsteps. Something was coming. His muscles were tense as it stepped through the funnel of light under a streetlamp and he could see who it was.

Well, not who it was. But he could see that it was a big animal, bigger than him. She was moving the way he moved, covering ground in small, short bursts, taking advantage of cover when she found it. The fur on her head was dark and shining, and her eyes were bright and intense even in the dim light. She was quick on her paws, and he barely got to the back of his prison before she reached the mesh that kept him inside. She was too big to squeeze even a paw through the mesh, so he took advantage of his momentary safety to study her.

The sudden chill had the big animal shivering, but that was to be expected when the silly thing only had fur on her head and nowhere else. She examined the mesh with small, thin paws; her funny black claws scratched at the hinges.

The captive wondered if he should try to get her attention, but his voice was weak from days of being trapped. He couldn't even remember what he sounded like anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted by the girl's soft laugh. "Hey there. It's okay. I'm here to help you."

She had big eyes, the color of an hour after sunset. He took a tentative step towards her, the better to scent her with. They stared at each other for just a second and a moment of recognition passed between them.

Despite being able to fly and phase through solid objects, Danny had had a hard time keeping up with Sam on her errand. She covered ground like a thief—he'd hardly been able to believe it when she'd cleared the park fence in three smooth movements, miniskirt, pack on her back and all.

He stood by, a silent, invisible guardian, as she found what she was looking for in the shadows of the trees—a small cage with a captive animal inside, a small roly-poly bundle of dark fur. It took him a minute to recognize what it was in the mesh and shadows, but a few blinks revealed it to be a badger.

Kneeling at the trap, Sam quickly unpacked her bag. She spread the blanket on the ground, the clippers on top of it. She set the small plastic container with the grasshoppers in it to one side, opened it, and slipped one through the wide gaps in the mesh.

Danny blinked. She'd given this jailbreak a lot of thought. He fumbled with the camera as he brought it up and focused it; he'd nearly forgotten he had it.

"These traps are supposed to be humane," Sam muttered. Danny hoped the camera's microphone could pick up her voice. He could understand her disgust--there didn't seem to be much that was humane about a wire cage with a hinged door. The little guy was stuck for good until someone came to let him out. Unfortunately, that someone was probably going to be Animal Control, armed with a sweet syringe of murder for him.

The animal appeared sulky, its eyes watching Sam as she worked, snub of a muzzle quivering as it scented the air. It advanced tentatively towards the proffered treat.

Sam was examining the trap. Apparently it closed with twine, so the clippers were unnecessary, but it didn't matter. She had the knife. She was careful as she sawed through the twine; the door rattled as she slid it up.

The badger cowered at the back of the enclosure; not a surprise, being that animals under his present circumstances were usually set free by men with a shotgun and a body bag. Sam offered him another grasshopper.

"C'mere," she said sweetly. "Door's open. See? You're free!"

The badger took another ambling step on its blunt paws.

"All better now," Sam sang, offering the rest of the grasshoppers. "C'mere, little one…"

The badger stuck its head out of the trap, then two front footpaws. It ate the remaining grasshoppers almost daintily, then rewarded its savior with a bite on her leather-gloved hand.

Before Sam had time to shriek anything else but "Oh! Oh!", Danny had dropped the camera and leapt forward, grabbing the badger in two ghostly hands. Glove and badger phased off of Sam; as soon as Danny placed it back on the ground, the animal snuffled and waddled off into the trees.

And just like that, the night was still again, save for the sound of Sam's labored breathing.

She held her uninjured hand up in front of her face, staring at it in confusion. Her eyes bounced to where the badger had disappeared and reappeared before escaping, then to the empty cage, and finally to the camera. As soon as Danny had dropped it, it had ceased being intangible and was now lying tellingly on the ground, the RECORD light still blinking.

Slowly, carefully, Sam crawled over to the camera. Then she laughed, picking up the camera and panning around the area, as if searching for him. "Well, you can come out now."

Danny groaned as he came into view. "Busted."

"Totally busted!" Sam laughed. "How long have you been there?"

Danny squinted miserably. "Tonight or in general?"

"I knew it," Sam cried triumphantly. "You have been following me around."

The synapses in Danny's brain froze. "How do you know that?"

She laughed. "Please! Danny, you suck at keeping secrets. Except the big one, of course," she said, with a sweep of her hand to indicate his ghost form. "You knew exactly how many hours I spent fixing my dress for home ec class. And when I said my mysterious 'thing' sucked, you told me I was great. Don't tell me you sat through that whole poetry slam just to see me recite."

Danny had to chuckle at the memory of some of the poems at the Skulk and Lurk. "Some of those were pretty terrible," he admitted.

"All of them were terrible!" Sam giggled.

Danny shut off the camera, which had still been recording, and closed the digital screen. "Not yours, Sam. I'm serious. And I'm not just saying that because you're my friend. I liked your poem—and everyone else there did, too."

Sam was still laughing, cradling her head in her hand. "I can't believe you went to that poetry slam! You're really serious about this project."

"More than you'll ever know," he said, and the calm conviction in his voice made her look up.

She moved close to him, looking suddenly concerned. "Hey. Are you okay?"

He didn't answer, simply reached for her ungloved hand, running his fingers gently over her pale skin. "Did it hurt you?"

She shook her head. Then she laughed. "At first, I wasn't sure what happened when it disappeared and reappeared again!"

"Good thing your dad's gloves were a little too big on you," he said, sliding the other glove off her hand and handing it to her.

She took the glove and sashayed over to her backpack. "You've been super-duper snooper for the last few days, haven't you?" she asked as she found the other glove and repacked her tools and blanket.

Danny sighed. "So how angry are you?"

Sam looked confused. "Angry? I'm not. Why?" Her face darkened. "Should I be?"

"No!" Danny amended quickly. "No, no. I just—it's just that every time I tried to tape, you said hello to me!"

Sam laughed. "Well, I have been pretty bad with that. No wonder every time I asked you how your footage was coming along, you found a way to distract me with ice cream or something."

Danny sighed and looked down at his feet. Time to ask the question that was hanging over their heads. "So you're not angry that I spied on you?"

All she said was, "When do I get to see this video?"

He smiled. "Soon as I get it into the editing room and fix it up. But there's a few more shots I want. Now that I don't have to play stalkerazzi anymore, maybe you can help me with them?"

Sam's eyes twinkled. "What's your idea?"

Briefly, he outlined it for her, and she agreed wholeheartedly that Lancer would love something so overdone. Danny had to smile at her excitement.

"I can't wait to see what kind of grade you get on this," she said, leading him towards the fence and settling her backpack on her back to make the climb easier. Then she turned around. "You know, I never even thanked you," she said.

"For what?" Danny asked, confused.

"For letting me help you with this project. It's so much fun," she said.

Fun? Danny had expected her to be furious with him for invading her privacy and spying on her. "Fun" was a better reaction than he could ever have hoped for.

"Uh…you're welcome?"

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Nothing cool would come out of his mouth. Why couldn't he be charming or witty or—or just not a loser?!

Sam turned back to the fence, preparing herself for the climb, and then he knew exactly what to say. He reached for her hand, pulling her gently back towards him.

"How about I take you home?" he whispered.

She drew back a little, her smile shy. "Okay."

Letting go of her hand, he pulled carefully on the worn strap of her backpack, tugging it down her arm. At her confused expression, he just pressed the backpack into her hands and said, "Hold this."

He'd flown with Sam before, their hands clasped tight as he led the way, feeling lighter than air not just because of ghost powers. But this time he lifted her into a threshold position, watched her blush deepen as she relaxed in his arms.

They didn't say anything the whole way back, but he was content just carrying her close to his chest, a beacon of heat next to his heart.

Although he'd often lost himself in fantasies of it, Danny had never thought he'd really be this close to one of Sam's black silky nightgowns.

"Stop throwing them at me," he said, trying to force the right amount of fake irritation into his voice and glad the soft material hid his pleased expression. He sat on Sam's floor surrounded by all sorts and conditions of female artifacts—silky things, satiny things, fluffy things, soft things.

"Darn it. Where are my black…?" Sam cried from somewhere inside her bureau.

"It's not a fashion shoot, Sam. You'll be under the covers anyway!" Danny said, eyes widening at something with thin black straps and a red, fuzzy trim that draped itself over the knee of his jeans. "Ooh, what about this furry one?"

Sam stopped tossing silky and satiny things at him and gave him an odd look. "Give me that," she said brusquely, snatching the soft gown from him and muttering something that sounded like, "I don't even know why I bought this one."

Returning to the drawer, she suddenly seemed to find what she was looking for. "Aha!" She threw a bundle of clothes into her adjoining bathroom, then set about picking up everything she'd thrown from the bureau. Danny watched her whisk purple satin and black silk out of his vision, and then the floor was clean again and she'd disappeared into the bathroom.

"You'd better not be putting on makeup," he warned through the door. "I want this to look at least a little believable."

Sam opened the door, laughing. "Will you relax? What did you think I was going to do, put on eyeshadow?"

Danny chuckled nervously, gaze sweeping appraisingly from her now-loose hair and her scrubbed face to her purple camisole and black pants. He'd been afraid his heart would fail if she'd put on some of the things that had come from her bureau. "You look nice," he said, hating his voice for how scratchy it sounded.

"No, I don't." She tiptoed past him on tiny bare feet to her bed, slipping through the split in the canopy to slide beneath the covers. Laying her head down on her dark pillowcase, she blinked at him and said, "How is this?"

Danny's knees weakened at how sweet she looked. He knelt at the bedside. "Let me just…" He played with the canopy a bit, pushing it away from Sam's hand on the bedclothes, pulling the other side around so it would be in the shot near her head. He blinked down at her a few times, then tilted his head, considering.

"What?" Sam asked softly. "What is it?"

"Lift your head," he said thoughtfully. "Just a little." When she did, he reached for her. "Can I just…?" and then his hands were in her hair. He could feel the heat of her blush as he spread her hair on the pillow as gently as he could. "There," he said finally.

"Good?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled and nodded. "Perfect. Okay, keep your eyes open until I tell you to close them, okay?"

She giggled. " 'Good night, noises everywhere'," she quoted with a giggle.

Danny had to laugh too, even as he scolded her. "Stop it. Be serious!"

Sam tried to school her face into a serious expression. "Okay. Okay. How's this?" Then she burst into giggles again.

"Sa-a-a-am," Danny whined. "You've got to calm down or this won't look natural. Okay?"

She was still grinning. "I'm so sorry, Danny. Maybe you should have kept on spying on me!"

Danny racked his brain. There had to be a way to get her to stop laughing. "What relaxes you, Sam?"

Sam squinted at him. "What?"

"Keep your eyes open and just bear with me, okay?" Danny asked. "What makes you feel relaxed?"

"You're really getting into this director thing, aren't you?" Sam smiled mischievously.

Danny smiled back. "Humor me, Sam. Please."

She gave it some thought. "The last time I felt really relaxed was when we went stargazing out on the ridge, under the big oak."

Danny smiled, remembering that night. It had been nice. He said, "Okay, look at the camera and just think of that night, okay? We're out under the oak, and I've got my telescope. And Tucker's not even paying attention; he's got out his PDA and he's not even looking up."

Sam's lashes were flickering over her big violet eyes. Danny flipped the digital screen open and pressed RECORD.

"We are, though," Danny continued softly. "We're looking up. There's just a little bit of a breeze, but it's clear. So many stars in the sky, remember, Sam?"

Her eyes were closed now, a little smile on her lips.

"Perfect!" Danny said, snapping the screen shut. "That was great, Sam. You were perfect."

She didn't answer him, simply sighed and settled further down onto the pillow.

"Sam?" Danny said. "Did you hear me?"

No answer from the girl in the bed save soft, slow breathing.

He waved a hand carefully before her closed eyes, unable to believe she'd really fallen asleep. But she looked far too sweet to be playing a trick on him.

"Be back tomorrow morning, like we said," he whispered finally, wishing he could touch her hair again, stroke a gentle finger down her face. Instead, he whispered, "Good night, Sam," and left the room the way he'd entered—an invisible ghost.

Author's Notes:

"The Guilty Ones" replaced "There Once Was a Pirate" in Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater's Broadway musical, Spring Awakening, based on Frank Wedekind's play of the same name. The play started off-Broadway in the Atlantic Theater, then went to the Eugene O'Neill theater on Broadway. I'm slightly obsessed with this play; I've seen it eight or nine times, all but one of those times seated on the stage as scenery. The music, thank the seasons, can be found on its original cast recording, which finally went on sale in December of 2006.

The bottomless shake is not on the Nasty Burger menu in canon. There's an ice cream shoppe near my home called Jahn's, and everyone who's ever lived anywhere even near my den knows of it. They serve a massive sundae called "The Kitchen Sink" which can be shared comfortably among ten to twelve people and was the inspiration for the bottomless shake Danny shares with Sam. Jahn's used to be open very late and would never throw any guest out to close, but they do have a closing time of one or two AM now. I can say with absolute conviction that it is solely the fault of me and my former pack, who would stay till three or four in the morning. But that was a long time ago. Also, it's hard for me to tell whether the Nasty Burger is more of a fast-food joint or a diner—I prefer the latter; I have a deep love for all-night diners, and we have indeed seen table service at the Nasty Burger (Flirting With Disaster).

The Crimson Chin, as all good Butch Hartman fans ought to know, is Timmy Turner's superhero idol. He's voiced by Jay Leno, a fact which always cracks me up.

On PETA: I love animals. I'd consider myself an animal-rights activist. I don't eat meat or poultry. But I hate PETA—they're not pro-animal, they're anti-human! And that's not right either. And this isn't the last time I'm going to jab at them in this story. It's going to get worse.

"Why Your Daughter Dates Dummies": This is a homage to one of my very favorite movies ever, Ginger Snaps. As Ginger begins to turn into a werewolf, her cheerfully oblivious mother thinks the changes in her daughter are due to puberty. In one scene, the mother is upstairs in bed reading a magazine and remarks to her husband, "Here it is. 'Why Your Daughter Dates Dummies'. I'm so glad I hung on to this." Meanwhile, Ginger and her unwilling accomplice, baby sister Bridgitte, drag a dead body through the yard below.

I hate badger traps. In fact, I hate all animal traps. I actually researched the badger traps on an Irish web site, then was so depressed by the descriptions of the trapping and killing of badgers that I had to go cheer myself up at What Badgers Eat . com, based on that episode of The Simpsons where a badger takes refuge in Santa's Little Helper's doghouse. Go play! It's fun.

"Good night noises everywhere": Sam is quoting a popular children's book entitled Goodnight Moon.

Stargazing: I love how Danny loves the stars and outer space. Upon winning a DeviantART contest and being awarded a request, I asked for a picture of Danny stargazing or being with his friends, doing anything where he is happy and content. I was more than pleased with the beautiful result I was given, which can be found here: http// www. deviantart. com / deviation / 47186092 /

Everyone who fell for the innuendos at the beginning, shame on you. (snickers behind a paw.)

This chapter took forever, and I am so sorry for the delay. But I am still working, and I laugh my fool head off while writing the notes for chapter six. Again I must thank all the readers for their interest in my li'l story, and my awesome best friend Cloudy who betas for me because no one else can stand my constant edits. XD

Next chapter: Mr. Lancer finds himself in a jam and looks to an unlikely source for help, the tables turn on Paulina, and the screening of the video essays finally begins, starting with Dash's epic film on what he finds most beautiful.

And as for what happened during those hours Tucker and Valerie were filming in the Nasty Burger…yeah, that's in there, too.