Paradoxical (by timydamonkey)

Author's Notes: Well, this is shorter than normal. I wanted to get it out today though, and it's midnight, and this was supposed to be a sort of transition chapter, but plot came forth. Yay! And Spectra's been put off a chapter. She wasn't even meant to be in this story... bleh. Oh, and to why I've been late: I've written some new material: my obligatory "crush the cliche!" HPDP crossover, a Harry Potter drabble (Regulus-based) and a Danny Phantom drabble (Danny-based). It's even angstier than this fic. But just to let you know what's been going on. I generally put progress stuff on the appropriate board on my forum and/or my deviantart (name of timydamonkey).

Reviews appreciated! Ooh, and I nearly drowned of irony in this chapter. :)

Chapter Seven: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

In the following days, he was happy. It made a noticeable difference, and even Jazz seemed to back off and leave him on his own (which, he thought, was a miracle if anything was).

He could become normal – just a boy, like others his age. He felt as if he could feel the world spinning again. Even when Vlad left, swearing to Danny's parents that he'd be in touch, he could feel the happiness swarming over him like a wave.

He wouldn't be able to be evil, because Vlad would help him, and stopping evil was good. This called to reason that Vlad was an infinitely good man – helping him, when he could be at risk himself from Danny's ghost half…

He wondered if that was what a saint was.

In fact, with the elation that was springing through him, Danny would only have hesitated slightly in describing those days as some of the best days of his life.

And then it started to go wrong.

He still had the dreams. They were never the same, always different, but seemed to have a common theme – him being evil. Maybe it was his biggest fear. Either way, it seemed that the paranoia was creeping up his bones again, and though he was happy, he really was, he started to get jumpy again.

So jumpy that he lost control of the stupid powers that he didn't want in the first place. Once he messed up something in chemistry – the rack didn't seem to be as sturdy as it first looked, and he reached for it and picked it up. The permanent chill that covered his body made it feel as if he was being poked with a branding iron, and he swore, and his hand went intangible, and the test tube, hydrochloric acid and all, went clattering to the floor.

He earned a week of detention, a lecture on safety when using chemicals and another one on how narrowly it had missed his partner's eye – how narrowly he'd come to permanently damaging them. He supposed that was where the paranoia had come back from – the possibility of returning to normal was wonderful, really, but right now he was being as damaging as ever to other people because of his lack of control. Because of him being a half-ghost.

And he hated himself for it.

He was flying through Amity Park.

In fact, Danny concluded, this was clearly not him, as he had no idea how to fly. He ignored the bubbling joy of being able to fly – of being free – they weren't his emotions.

This wasn't him.

He'd see if anything this awful had happened. It obviously wasn't real. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Nightmares can't hurt you.

But they can hurt other people.

He was watching the activity of the people beneath him – he should be one of those people down there, damnit, not watching this! – when a voice from behind him said, "Hello, Daniel."

He spun around, and forgot to breathe. He felt like he was being propelled forward – instead of being the silent watcher from the back, he was… in control. He half-expected to fall. He didn't.

Which was good, because he knew this ghost – had heard stories of him for years. The ghost had tried to kill his father! He was why his parents had decided all ghosts were evil! (Where had that come from? Danny wasn't sure; didn't HE believe that too?)

If Vlad Masters, the man who'd offered to help him, was a saint, then this was the devil.

He certainly looked enough like your stereotypical devil. He even appeared to have horns!

"I… I… who are you?" Danny asked, his voice choked.

"A friend," said the devil-ghost, a self-satisfied smirk spreading over its face.

"You're not!" Danny yelled. The idea of keeping a lid on his identity flew out of the window at that point. "I heard about you! You tried to kill my parents!"

The ghost scrutinized him for a moment. "So I did," he said softly. Danny was shocked – he hadn't expected him to admit to it, especially in such a matter-of-fact tone. "Is it so wrong to want to have revenge on those who ruin your life?"

"But you're dead!" He didn't mean to yell it, nor to sound so insensitive. It just happened.

The ghost looked quite amused. "And if I wanted revenge on the one indirectly responsible for my… death?"

Danny knew he was talking of his father. "But he wouldn't! My dad… he's a really nice guy! I mean, he can be a bit goofy sometimes, but he wouldn't hurt somebody! They… they wouldn't die! That's ridiculous! It's-"

The devil-ghost asked quietly, "Are intentions really so important to you, Daniel?"

"Yes!"

"Then what are your own?" The problem was, Danny didn't know how to answer. He remained tight-lipped. The ghost sighed and said, "You're dead, too. So young… so much lost. Who is responsible for your own death? Don't you want vengeance? Vengeance on those who don't care as long as they can remove the remains of your spirit from the face of the Earth?"

"I've never been one for revenge," Danny replied softly.

And the ghost laughed. "Really? Then why are you so terrified, little boy? Why are you so paranoid?" He looked positively amused as he added as an afterthought, "Paranoia can lead to madness, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Observe," the ghost told him, as if he was teaching an impatient child how to add up, a child who didn't quite understand. He closed his eyes, and a moment later, there were four of them.

But that wasn't possible! He shut his eyes tightly, then a booming clatter came so loudly that they snapped open again. There was a large crater in the street, and another ectoplasmic energy blast going to join the previous one. Danny's eyes followed it to where it had originated, and he froze.

Three white-haired boys with green eyes stared at him – one looked up and gave him the self-satisfied smile of a predator. Danny drifted backwards slowly, away from them. They… they…

"What is this?" Danny asked the ghost in a small voice.

The voice just repeated the mysterious phrasing from before. "Paranoia can lead to madness."

Danny looked back at the three… things…and realized where this was going. "What are you talking about! I'm not mad, I'm not!" He started shaking. "And they… they aren't me! This isn't even me!"

"Really, Daniel?" The ghost turned to look at one of his creations and gave a nod. The ghost drifted down to the street and returned with a scrap of metal – it looked like part of the remains of a car that had been blasted apart in the crater earlier. He hoped nobody had been inside…

The ghost creature floated up to him and held it in front of his face.

"What are you d-" Danny began, then cut off as he saw what the ghost obviously wanted him to. The moon reflected off the piece and heralded a reflection… and he found himself staring at his own face. Danny jumped, and stared at the ghost again, horrified.

"NO! That's not possible!"

He woke up.