Something inspired by the episode/mini-movie "The Ultimate Enemy". Longer than I was intending for any of these one-shots to be, but I like this one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story.

Take Them Out

Danny's breaking point

January 9, 2006

It had been a month since their deaths and Danny still couldn't keep track of his emotions.

In the beginning, it was easy. It was almost like someone had ripped out his heart in one swift motion, even having the courtesy to severe the nerves so it wouldn't hurt. Where his heart was suppose to be, there was just an empty pericardial cavity or so at least that's how it felt.

Shortly after the funeral, scorn, pity, and legal affairs, he found himself at the front steps of Vlad Masters' estate with his suitcase. The rest of his belongings and whatever had been left to him in accordance to his parents' will would arrive later on. In all honesty, the young halfa didn't care.

He liked it when he couldn't feel anything. It was much better than having his emotions overwhelm him to the point where he couldn't function. Yes … The numbness was preferred.

That feeling had lasted him until he had 'settled' into his new room. It was extremely roomy with dark hues and so engulfing in its depressiveness that Danny's chest constricted painfully at the thought of Sam. He tried fighting the psychological pain, but lost the struggle when Bearburt Einstein was thrown into his line of vision along with the MP3 player Tucker had gotten for him at his fifteenth birthday.

The onslaught was merciless as it condemned him to the ground, taking away his strength and the air from his lungs. Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision, only adding to the dizziness he felt. He was helpless and there was nothing that his human body could offer to stop the pain.

Before the tears could fall or a sob escape his lips, Danny called upon the cold darkness that rested inside of him. A ring of white light encircled his waist, separating into two halos. They traveled the length of his form in opposite directions, one superior and the other inferior.

Pain, dizziness and tears left him, his strength doubling, but having the refreshing air fill his lungs was absent. He couldn't even hear the blood rushing past his ears, much less feel it pulse through his veins.

Becoming a ghost was the only means he had to escape the emotions; it was the only way he could overcome the pain. Without washing away his humanity, he was weak and dysfunctional. It was through his ghost half that he was able to gain strength and control over himself, the only control he had left since fate decided to take the whole of it away from him.

That had happened almost three weeks prior to the moment at hand. In the duration of those twenty-one days, Danny suffered far worse than anyone expected from his bouts of emotional overload. It was because of the young halfa's emotional imbalance that Vlad had withdrew his adoptive son from school with a little over a month left in the school year. The billionaire had even went to lengths to ensure the blue-eyed boy wouldn't be disturbed by any supernatural happenings of any sort.

When Vlad had had informed him of all of this, Danny had just stared at the older man with a hallow azure gaze.

Now, two days since his last attack, Danny sat on his bed looking at the beaming faces of his family and friends, immortalized in a framed photo of them in front of Fenton Works. He skimmed over each of their visages, tracing their images with his index finger.

He blinked and found that the picture was slightly disfigured. To clear his vision, he blinked again only to have all the faces in the photograph smear; all except one.

His own brightly smiling face mocked him from behind the glass of the wooden picture frame. It was then he realized that he was crying.

With a sneer of utter disgust, the troubled youth stood and threw the rectangle piece of wood at the wall, shattering the glass.

As the tears silently refused to stop their cascading, he reached deep inside himself for the emotional bliss of his ghost side, but it would not answer to his beckoning for once.

Somewhere along the lines of frustration and anguish, he let out a throatily growl, clutching his sides as if willing the darkness to engulf him by force. It would not come.

His knees gave out from under him and he tumbled to the floor, eye shut tightly from the burning of the overflowing tears that would not cease. The pain in his chest resonated through the marrow of his ribs out to the rest of his skeletal system, seeping into his muscles and blood stream. Dizzy was an understatement as to how he felt. He felt nauseated from the sickening vertigo he was experiencing and the plunging of whatever remained of his heart into the pit of his stomach.

A broken sob, so weak and pathetic, was let out from the back of his hoarse throat. Just hearing himself cry broke the boy even more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard what his cries were. He was crying out to the six people who had given him strength, hope, support, and gave him the control he just couldn't seem to muster on his own.

Vlad had chosen that time to enter the room, finding an emotionally broken Daniel Fenton huddled in a fetal position on the cold wooden floor at the base of the bed. The sight surprised the man. Every time Danny had an emotional attack, the boy transform into his emotionally detached ghostly counterpart before the tear fell, remaining in the form of Danny Phantom for an hour or two and reverting back into an empty shell of Daniel Fenton.

Vladimir Masters had never seen Danny cry.

Playing the part of the concerned parent, the experienced halfa all but flew to the side of his young charge, gathering the young boy into his arms. He tried to comfort the child, but the teenager was struggling against his hold, thrashing and screaming at him. Every curse word imaginable and countless of crude names were thrown at the older man, who tried to settle the boy down.

When it seemed as if Danny's tantrum would never end, Vlad heaved a great sigh and pulled the younger halfa against him before he converted himself into Vlad Plasmius. As the black rings faded from sight, the vampire ghost stepped away from the now silent boy.

Daniel Fenton sat on his thighs, arms still wrapped around his middle with pained blue-eyes gazing at the broken picture frame about five feet from where he was. A white light filled the room before Danny Phantom stood and walked over to the shattered pieces of glass and splints of wood. He stood over the mess he created and caused it disappear from existence with a shot of green ectoplasm.

"Daniel …" Vlad had returned to his human form, cautiously approaching the boy.

Phamtom kept his back turned to the white-haired man. "I don't want it … I don't want these emotions." He turned to his adoptive father. "Take them out."

"Emotions are part of you. They're what make you human--"

Danny Fenton stood firmly. "Then take out my humanity."