Flight of the Albatross

2

For all that Sam and Tucker hadn't fallen asleep till four, they were still awake before the sun had finished rising. Danny hadn't wanted to wake either of them, but his flight was at nine-fifteen and he had to be home by seven. He hadn't slept at all and he hoped it wasn't showing as he sat there with them. It was almost seven, he only had a few minutes to tell them about what he planned while he was away. He didn't dare hope that the ghosts would stay away, but for a while he expected they would.

Once word got around about what he'd done to Vlad.

"I figure it had to come from me, since it's not something he's ever done," Danny was saying hurriedly.

Sam arched one eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you sure, Danny? Just because we've never seen it doesn't mean that he can't do it."

Danny chuckled. "Sam, come on. If he could do that don't you think he'd be popping up randomly? You know that every time he come to Amity Park he's driven or he flies. We've watched him head back out after kicking his ass."

Danny sat back on the sofa and raked a hand through his hair, trying not think too far ahead of what he was doing. "I know I can do it, I know it had to come from my ghost half and not his. It makes sense, I keep having something new crop up every so often. Remember when I learned the wail?" he asked, eyes flicking between Sam and Tucker. "I learned it early, and I can learn this one, too. And once I can it'll be dead easy to hop back and forth between here and… there."

The easy way he spoke was suddenly strained as the whole reason for learning how to warp through the Ghost Zone was brought back up, a viciously painful reminder for Danny as he thought once again on how very long it would be before he saw Sam again. Months, at least: this wasn't a power that would simple to learn. That much he felt in his gut, ghostly intuition if he wanted to be funny about it. He didn't really want to, he wasn't finding the situation very amusing at all.

"We can handle the ghosts while you're gone, Danny," Tucker said softly. "Between me and Sam, we'll be fine. Jazz will help when we need it, and you know Valerie will be after any ghost she can get to find out where you went."

"I know," Danny said, not wanting to tell them how much he worried about their safety. It was one thing when he was there and could put himself between them and the worst of the attacks. Hell, even the Box Ghost was dangerous under the right circumstances. Thank god those circumstances were few and far between—he didn't really want to think about what would happen if Sam and Tucker had to go up against any ghost under bad circumstances. Of course, with some ghosts they were always bad. He could only hope that the Fright Knight and anyone near his level would be leery of messing with his friends.

"But I need to put in appearances anyway," he explained, adding the other reason why he had to learn the new power. "It'd be too obvious if Phantom only came back when I do, so if he disappears for a little people will assume he just hid out in the Ghost Zone or went somewhere else for a little while."

Sam nodded. "It's a good plan, if you can pull it off. Makes sense." Her voice was soft, softer than his, and Danny couldn't bring himself to look at her. He was too afraid of what he might see in her eyes if he did.

Instead Danny glanced down at his watch before standing. It was two minutes until seven, and he didn't want his parents flipping out because they thought he might have run away to avoid the hell he was about to go through. "I have to go, guys," he said, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them Sam and Tucker were on their feet, Tucker to his left looking solemn and Sam to his right, her hands clasped in front of her. He could see how tightly she was holding them, her knuckles were white and they were almost shaking. Or maybe she was holding them to try and stop them shaking, he thought. If he weren't so worried he might be shaking himself at the prospect of being away from home so long, so far away, and with his friends left behind. They'd make new friends while he was gone, and they'd forget him, and then he'd be the one left behind, and –

"I know what you're doing, man," Tucker said before he pulled Danny into a tight hug. There wasn't any of the fake hugging that Danny usually associated with Tucker's hug, it was tight and almost reassuring. "We'll be here, Danny, waiting for you to get back. Best friends. Forever."

If he'd been just a little less detached Danny thought he might have teared up as Tucker let go of him, one last squeeze to his shoulder with a hand that gripped a lot stronger than it did when they were fourteen. Tucker had grown up a lot; maybe Danny's paranoia was misplaced. Danny nodded once, sharply, meeting Tucker's eyes and wondering if Tucker could see the fear that he felt at leaving, or if Tucker would only see the strong face that Danny wanted to show. Somehow, he thought it was both, but he ignored the question in his mind in favor of following Tucker's gaze as it moved from him to Sam.

Oh, Sam. Sam, who he worried for so much. Tucker had grown and Sam still seemed so delicate and fragile. He knew that she was stronger than she looked, but she was one small, slim girl in the middle of such a dangerous situation. She was just the girl he loved more than his own life.

He reached out for her, not wanting to wait for her to do it herself. His arms folded around her and pulled her close as he held her in a hug that was gentle. "Be safe, Sam," he whispered against her hair. He felt her nod, heard her say his name softly, and then he let her go. A heartbeat later and he was shifting to ghost form, eyes studiously avoiding hers and even Tucker's.

"I'll be in touch, guys," he said. "I promise."

He didn't wait, couldn't wait, for them to say anything else. The numbness he was feeling was perilously close to breaking and Danny didn't want them to see him cry. He didn't really feel any shame at the warmth of the tears as he flew up and out of Sam's house and headed for the neon sign that was his home, still bright in the faint light of dawn. There couldn't be any shame when he felt like his heart was dying inside him, an aching, agonizing twist as he left his two best friends behind. But his face was dry and his eyes were clear when he landed in his room. It was neat, cleaner than it had been in a long time, the bed made and the black duffel bag already packed and waiting on his bed. Jazz was sitting at his desk, her eyes solemn but worried as she watched him change back to human.

"They're downstairs," she said without preamble. "Mom's already got her bag in my car."

"We're taking your car?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Dad's following with the RV. I told them you might be a little happier if you rode to the airport in something that didn't look like it belonged in a video game."

He snorted back a laugh before it came out. "You didn't say that," he said, shaking his head but clearly amused despite everything.

A smile broke across Jazz's face. "Those very words, brother mine," she answered. "No matter what, I'm not happy about this. Even if I understand why they're concerned, I'm not happy about it."

Danny did chuckle this time and shouldered his duffle before heading for the door, Jazz rising and following. He didn't really say anything to his parents as he dropped the bag by the door and headed for the kitchen. Breakfast was in order, even if it was just cold cereal, but he didn't want to leave just yet. They didn't have to and Danny found himself wanting to draw out this last little bit of time. It would be his last breakfast in this kitchen, in this house, this town, for almost a year. If they wanted to blame him for taking his time what would that be but one more injustice added to the heap that was sending him away?

It was eight before he deigned to pour the cereal that he hadn't really eaten and had only picked out down the sink. It was soft, soggy and mushy and utterly unappetizing, and Danny couldn't imagine why he'd even poured it. He hadn't eaten more than a bite, had only wanted to waste time and try to memorize the room. He washed the bowl and spoon and left them to dry in the drainer before walking back into the silence of the living room.

"I'm ready," he said, looking at his parents full in the eyes with as much hurt and anger as he could muster without losing control of his powers. They flinched but Danny couldn't find any remorse inside him. It served them right to see how much this hurt, how much being exiled had injured him.

Where breakfast had been peaceful, if somewhat painful, the ride to the airport was cold and hard and fraught with tension. Jazz had offered to drive Danny, and Danny only, a request made as a suggestion that was shot down in less than two heartbeats. Apparently he was such a criminal that his parents didn't dare let him out of their sight. Maybe he'd go knock over a bank—but the harsh thought died abruptly in Danny's head as he realized that he'd already done that. His only saving grace was that he hadn't been in control of himself, a scapegoat that he relied on at this point. The knowledge that every bad thing he'd done had not been of his own making, had been forced onto him by circumstance and the greater good.

The greater good: three words that Danny utterly despised at this moment, his eyes meeting his sister's for a moment in the rearview mirror as she pulled on to the highway leading to Amity Park's airport. The greater good. How many times had he given up what he wanted, some thing, some dream, some piece of trust placed on him by someone else, destroyed so that he could do the right thing and save a town that despised him but as much as he hated it, Danny knew that he could never choose otherwise. To do so would be to turn his back on the person he was, the boy his parents had raised, the friend that Sam and Tucker had influenced into being.

The greater good that had his mother staring out of the passenger window beside jazz, most likely wondering where exactly she and her husband had gone wrong. They had Jazz, the perfect daughter, if somewhat challenged in the social world. Good grades, never a bother. And then there was Danny. He could easily and readily admit that it never looked good for him. Late hours, always missing curfew, grades that had once been good and had rapidly declined with his entry into high school. That alone was hard enough, Danny knew that he was a bright person, that he was capable of so much more. Just one more sacrifice in a never ending stream of them. The cuts, bruises, injuries that he could never explain to them.

Oh yes, he knew exactly what it looked like, and there was a piece of him that could never blame his parents for what they were doing.

And this, this exile. He didn't deserve it, he really didn't. And here he was willingly submitting, it not docile about it. It felt like the greatest sacrifice he could make, if he weren't so afraid of what would happen to his home without him there to protect it. There were so many other ghosts out there looking for a piece of Danny Phantom's turf, the haunt he'd apparently claimed as his own. So many, and he could only hope that they would stay away long enough for him to learn how to come back and defend it.

The airport was in sight now and Danny's heart cringed at the sight. The ride was too short, he wanted more time before he had to leave. God, it just wasn't fair. Nothing about it was fair, they shouldn't be sending him away, he hadn't done anything wrong! But all the same Danny was obedient to the exile as he climbed out of Jazz's car and grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk. He didn't look at his mother as she reached in and grabbed the small suitcase beneath it, blatantly ignored the click and whir as she snapped the handle out and pulled it behind her, wheels moving smoothly across the concrete of the single story parking garage.

The GAV was parked outside, if parking was what it could be called. It looked like his dad had created his own parking spot on the perfectly manicured lawn around the airport. There were already dirt churned places where grass had been uprooted by the massive vehicle, but Danny's eyes were drawn from it to the hulking orange clad figure waiting at the airport's entrance. His father was fair glowering as he waited for them, and Danny purposely let his eyes slide past his father as he walked steadily to the nearest set of doors, heading through it without waiting for anyone.

He could hear Jazz behind him trying to convince them to leave him alone, but he didn't really care. Instead Danny only stopped and waited for them to catch up, staying silent and wooden as his mother checked both of their bags and collected tickets and boarding passes from the counter. He was even more distant as the approached the security check onto the concourse, and once past that Danny knew it was just him and his mother. The prospect was far from thrilling, but Danny didn't say anything as his mother offered hugs to both Jazz and Jack, lingering with her husband as Danny stared down the carpeted walk to the half dozen terminals that made up Amity Park's small and unsophisticated airport. He didn't really have a choice, it was either that or give into the fear that welling up inside him by admitting that he was leaving. Really leaving.

"Danny?" he tried to ignore Jazz, but the slender arm that tugged him around and then held onto him was inescapable without hurting her feelings, and Jazz didn't deserve that.

"I'll be back," he told her as he hugged her, and Jazz sighed knowing that he was really talking to himself more than her. Either was she was relieved that he was hugging her—goodbyes had never been Danny's forte and she had worried about him the entire drive, not that it had been much of one. She knew that somewhere inside him was a little brother who desperately needed reassurance, and that wasn't going to magically appear from either of their parents.

So she would be the one to give it to him, since she was the only person there to say goodbye who actually knew the truth.

He let go of her and reached into his pocket for the ID that he needed to get through security, the small piece of plastic that was the only thing he carried now besides the boarding pass, and turned to the security guard to present them. He politely shook his head no when asked if he had anything else before he passed through the metal detector, and took the first step before he heard the first yell from behind him. Danny turned at it, and was suddenly engulfed by Tucker and Sam both.

"Did you really think we weren't going to see you off?" Sam breathed into his ear, and Tucker gave a dry chuckle as he added, "Not a chance, dude—you're stuck with us."

It was a gift, that was all he could think, that his friends hadn't tolerated his barely there farewell and had followed him to the very edge of his leaving. They let go of him long enough for him to give them a wide eyed stare and a faint but relieved laugh, and then Danny was hugging Tucker and thumping his back harder than necessary. Tucker returned each one with one just as hard making Danny wince a little but ultimately keeping the tears that threatened from coming out. it was almost like Tucker knew how to help, how close Danny was to giving into them just from them being there.

And when Tucker let go Sam stepped forward, eyes bright enough that Danny wondered before she slipped up against him and wrapped her arms against him, her face buried against his t-shirt and whatever she was feeling no longer visible as she held on to him. He returned that favor willingly, arms pulling her closer, holding her tightly, as he buried his face against her shoulder. Her hair tickled at his nose, but Danny welcomed it, breathing in to smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo, to memorize it, the scent of her, the feel of her in his arms. It would have to be enough, he'd only have the memory to go for a long time, and he needed it.

"I'll be back," he whispered against her neck, but this time he wasn't saying it to himself, he was telling her. It was his way of asking her to wait, to please remember whatever it was that had happened last night as she fell asleep, and please, please don't forget me.

She gave him a shaky sigh. "I know, Danny," she answered, her voice muffled against his short.

Then she, too, stepped back. Danny gave her and Tucker a quick smile, and then Jazz, before heading for his father. He reached up and hugged the much taller man, not even hoping that there would be a last minute reprieve. "It's not what you think," he murmured to his father as he hugged him. "I swear, Dad." Then he let go.

This time when he presented himself to the security guard he walked through and headed down the concourse, not daring look back for fear the relief and happiness of Sam and Tucker's appearance would be too much and he'd have to give into the hurt and worry. Instead he headed for the gate his plane was waiting at and stared out at it, waiting as his mother followed him. The plane was large, but held no mysteries to Danny. Flight had been conquered years ago, there was nothing to fear, not even crashing.

He shivered at the thought and his mom glanced over at him. "Are you afraid of flying?" she asked. It was all Danny could do not to laugh.

---

Tampa International Airport was huge—Danny had never seen an airport that size or with that many people and planes. Granted, his entire flight history outside of being half ghost consisted of the single trip down to Florida from Illinois, but his mother had travelled before she'd become Mom, and she told him pointblank that it was massive. There were at least half a dozen concourses, and as far as Danny could tell double digits worth of gates on each one. But then, it catered to as much air traffic as several of the larger (not that there were many) airports in the States. His mom told him that if he thought TIA was confusing to try JFK, though she muttered something about the Dallas/Fort Worth airport being the worst one she'd ever seen in her entire life.

He didn't question it and only followed along behind her as she found the luggage carousel and tugged their bags from it with a practiced hand. There was a rental car waiting for them and Danny couldn't help but wonder at how efficiently his mother was moving, besides the fact that she'd barely said a word to him since they lifted off in Amity Park. He assumed, correctly, that she was upset with him. He just couldn't bring himself to care very much.

The drive from Tampa to St. Pete was long and quiet, but Danny couldn't help but drink in the sights. The beaches on along Lake Michigan were beautiful, but somehow they seemed to pale in comparison to the almost tropical feel in the air as they crossed the longest bridge he'd even seen. At least, it was the longest until he looked past his mother and across the waters of Tampa Bay to see two shimmering towers above the waters beyond. His mother noticed but said nothing.

Arrangements had obviously been made beforehand; the check in at the small motel near the St. Pete marina was quick and smooth. Two rooms; she obviously wasn't worried that he might make a break for it at this late juncture. But he thought about it as he sat in the darkness and silence by himself. He hadn't slept on the either of the planes, nor rested during the lengthy layover in Atlanta, and even without sleeping the night before Danny didn't sleep now. he passed the night alone, more along than he thought possible, the cell phone that Sam had given him a slight weight in his hands.

When the sun rose Danny was still awake, his eyes dull and bleary. To look at him his mother thought it was because he was tired, but Danny knew better. She would take him to this Ocean Academy, and she would leave him there with strangers who would look at him like he was a criminal. The thought of that was frightening—she was the only familiar thing he had left.

But he stayed silent as he followed her to the car, as she ate and he picked at the food she'd ordered him even when he'd shook his head at her question of breakfast, and then back into the car and to the Marina. If it had been home Danny would have been more enthused. There were dozens of boats moored in the slips along docks jutting from the two islands that made up the marina, and Danny saw dozens of sleek tanned people moving amongst and on them. Most were smaller than what he'd pictured, though he knew that the wild fancies of a cruise ship were lost to reality. There were sailboats, motor boats, several larger ones that screamed of money and made him think again of Sam.

But his eyes were drawn to the only one out of all of them that he could actually recognize. He'd seen it in the brochure, a bright picture of white paint, whiter sails, and crystal blue ocean surrounding it, but even without the picture the name emblazoned across the bow would have told him what it was. The Albatross II, the newest school ship to the handful claimed in the brochure. It was fascinating to look at, all shining and white with hints of dark wood across the deck and dark portholes running down the side just above the water line. The sails were furled but the mainmast was tall in the sky, as if it were trying to reach out and touch the very sun itself, while the ropes and lines that made its rigging snapped in a steady breeze across the harbor.

Beyond even that , Danny's eyes were drawn because it was the only boat not moored directly at a slip. Instead it was anchored in the darker blue waters between the end of the island where his mother was now parking, and an arm of land that jutted out to lock the harbor safely in from rough waters, leaving only enough water clear to allow a boat to sail through it easily. Even now there were boats out in the calm water, a handful queuing up to leave or return, laughing and waving as they cut through the waters past each other and into the marginally rougher water of the bay on their way to the Gulf of Mexico, and even a small motorboat headed out to the Albatross II.

He held his tongue as he followed his mother again, ever obedient to her wishes—for the time being—into small building sitting in front of a short, empty dock. It was brightly lit, mostly from outside as the sun seeped in through several large windows that had the barest excuses for curtains across them. The paint was a painfully loud orange color that should have been hideous with the teal accents thrown about everywhere, but someone had managed to know exactly how to soften it by hanging pictures of boats cutting through clear blue seas everywhere, and beautifully painted beach scenes everywhere that those weren't.

He completely ignored his mother as she disappeared into an office after the woman who had met her at the desk, his eyes running through the building and glancing out of the windows indiscriminately as he tried to find some equilibrium as he stood in this sunny, tropical feeling place, completely alien and some thousand miles from home. He felt so alone.

There were a handful of green leafy plants, and Danny ignored those too, before his eyes lit on a small space of wall across from the office his mother and the stranger were now closeted in behind closed doors. It was a patch of clean white in the middle of all that garish orange, almost soothing until he actually looked at it. It was a circular piece of Styrofoam, or something similar. A life ring, Danny recognized it, though the ones at the Rec Center at home were completely for decoration. The life guards had long since given over to the oblong floatation devices that afforded them better mobility while rescuing failed swimmers. But this one was old, chipped, damaged, painted name faded and completely weathered.

Albatross, it read, and Danny started as he looked at it and glanced out the window at the large ship moored out on the waters. Albatross and Albatross II. Then he looked below it at the framed photo of a ship much like the one he'd just looked at, and a dozen people lined along the railing and smiling out for the picture. They were windswept, sun kissed, alive. And then Danny looked at the engraved plaque holding center stage inside the life ring, matte gold finish dull against the lovingly polished dark wood it was bolted to.

May 1, 1961

In Memory

Alice Sheldon

George Ptacnik

Rick Marsellus

Robin Wetherall

John Goodlett

Chris Coristine

As he read it, Danny couldn't help but wonder what had happened, and to wonder if whatever it had been wouldn't happen again. After all, if this Albatross had gone down, and that's what he was beginning to think, then why wouldn't its namesake? Especially with Danny on board, because if there was something Danny knew about it, it was Murphy's Law. And Murphy's Law seemed to go wherever he went.