A/N: I reread the last chapter and I noticed a confusing point. My intention was that it should be clear from the text what was taking place when, but obviously I didn't succeed in doing that, so I'm giving you and extra clue: flashbacks in italics. I also changed the last few paragraphs of the previous chapter, to make it clearer. Go look if you're interested.
Oh, and this story obviously takes place before the third season episodes. I only saw them last week and I had already started this...
Many thanks to my reviewers!
Edit 4/7/2007: 'Emissary of Honesty' has a point. I separated the dialogue from the narration. Hope this helps.
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom
Living small
Danny sat in the window of the third floor of the abandoned house and stared at the street below. It was a narrow street in a bad neighbourhood with overflowing trashcans and rusty car wrecks. The house he was in had been in a fire of some sort. The walls were blackened and the stairs were completely gone. It suited him just fine. He didn't need stairs. What was less pleasant was the big hole in the roof on the other side of the house. The room he was in however was dry, but not warm. Luckily he didn't need warmth either.
He got up, walked over to his worn backpack and took out the bread and the soda he had stolen earlier. It was getting darker outside, so he created a small green ecto ball to light the room. When he finished the bread and the soda, he grabbed the apple he had taken for good measure and took a bite from it.
He sat with his back against the wall. He was finally here, in Amity Park and now he didn't know what to do. He had arrived early that morning, hitching a ride with a shabby man in a fancy car. The man had tried to get him to come to his house with him, even went as far as grabbing his arm when Danny tried to get out of the car when they stopped at a traffic light, but had backed off quickly when Danny glared at him. He was getting quite good at that. He almost never had to actually hit anybody anymore.
He sat huddled in the corner of yet another warehouse, his eyes warily on the door. He knew this wasn´t the best place to sleep but he was tired. Just for a few hours, he thought, closing his eyes, and then he would find something better. He rested his head on his worn out back pack, trying to get into a comfortable position. He drew his coat close to him, using it as a blanket.
He awoke painfully when somebody kicked him in the ribs, causing a sharp jolt of pain through his body. He yelped and tried to sit up but strong hands pushed him down. He opened his eyes and wished he hadn´t. The man that was pushing him down was ugly and dirty. Danny flinched as he smelled his breath.
"Little boy," the man said, slurring. Somebody laughed in the background.
"Don´t little boy me," Danny growled and squirmed to get himself free.
He could see more people in the room, black shadows of shabby men, holding bottles. At least three of them. The man that was holding him put some more weight on him, to prevent him from freeing himself. He moved his body sidewards and lashed out with his left leg, hitting the man on his shins.
"Aarch, you little beast!" he cried out and hit him in his face.
That did it. He quickly went intangible and the man felt right through him. "What?"
Before he could get up Danny kicked him in the groin, feeling that that was the best way to incapacitate him for now. The other men stopped laughing as their comrade laid on the floor, groaning. Danny jumped to his feet and didn´t hesitate. He launched himself at the one closest to him and hit his knee with his stretched leg. The man howled in pain and went down, clutching his knee. The other two jumped him but he avoided them easily. They were either drunk or high, in any case they were no match for him.
They got up and he glared at them, inviting them to try again. They took a good look at him and bolted out the door, leaving their fallen comrades. Danny slowly relaxed somewhat.
"You broke my knee!" the man whined.
The other one tried to grab him again as he picked up his backpack and Danny kicked him again. He stepped outside, into the darkness. He had no idea what time it was, or where to go, but that wasn´t unusual. He counted his steps. When he reached one thousand he started again. He counted until he had pushed the darkness back to the back of his head. He felt satisfied. For the first time, he hadn´t lost control.
Danny felt a lump in his throat and swallowed. He would not cry. Crying would get him nowhere. He took out his sleeping bag and rolled it out on the floor. He was used to sleeping on the ground now and the rough wooden floor didn't bother him as he laid down. He closed his eyes.
The first time he opened his eyes, the light hurt. He squinted, trying to take in his environment. He was in a room of some sort. White walls, white curtains, white... bed. He was in a bed. He smiled and closed his eyes again.
The second time he opened his eyes, there was someone in the room. The light wasn't so bright now so he looked at her. She was a nurse and she looked slightly startled. Then she moved to the door and opened it, calling out to someone.
"He's awake!" It sounded as if it was something unusual
Danny looked at the door
eagerly, expecting to see his father but it was just a doctor.
"Hi there," he said, moving closer, "I'm doctor Gregory. Can you speak?"
Danny nodded and then shook his head. "Water," he tried to say but the word wouldn't come out of his dry mouth.
Dr Gregory seemed to understand though, because he signaled the nurse and she lifted his head gently, holding a glass to his mouth. He took a sip and started to cough.
"Easy now," Dr Gregory said.
Danny now drank more carefully and the nurse sat the glass down.
"Can you tell us your name?" the doctor asked.
"Where am I?" Danny asked, "What day is it?"
Dr Gregory hesitated. "You are in Madison Memorial Hospital. You've been here a week. You were hit by a car".
Danny's eyes shot open as a blue mist came out of his mouth. It was very dark out now, the only light in the room came from the flickering street light below. He groaned, got up and silently transformed into his ghost form. He stood still for a moment, firmly locking away the darkness that was always lurking in the back of his mind. Then he floated out of the house to see who it was. If it wasn't a dangerous ghost he was going to ignore it, he decided. He had no means to capture it. He let himself float above the houses, trying to locate the ghost. In the end he found him in a warehouse down the street, which was filled with boxes.
"Yeah, yeah, beware," he said to the Box Ghost who looked at him stunned and a little fearful. "Look, keep it down a little will you. People are trying to sleep."
He left, leaving a bewildered Box Ghost to his boxes. He went back to his sleeping bag and tried to sleep again, but it wouldn't come.
"Hello boys and girls, we have a new member to our family here. This is Daniel Fisher. Daniel, these are Julie Parker, Amanda McMurphy, Tom Zabrinsky, Albert Carey and Taylor Green." Danny looked at the five teenagers in the room, who stared back at him in various degrees of boredom.
"Come," Mrs Jones said, "I'll show you to your room. Come along now."
He pushed the memory away. He wondered if he had made a mistake, leaving the foster home like that, trying to make it on his own. He hadn´t done very well, drifting from one place to another, working odd jobs that barely paid enough to buy him food, let alone clothes. In the end he had just taken what he needed, which had been easy with his ghost powers. He had slept in run down buildings or under bridges, fending off drunks, bums, drug dealers. Finally he had hitched his way to Amity Park.
At four in the morning he gave up, got out of his sleeping bag and transformed into Danny Phantom. He shot up in the night sky and flew around randomly, like he used to, and took in the familiar buildings and streets, the warehouses at the docks, the school. He supposed he could still do his job as a ghost hunter, but he would need a thermos.
"No time like the present," he thought and flew over to Fenton Works.
He quickly phased himself through the walls into the basement and looked around.
"Thermos, thermos," he muttered to himself.
He checked the shelves and the closets. The Fenton Portal, he was happy to see, was firmly closed. Just as he spotted a thermos sitting on the cluttered desk, a loud alarm started blaring through the house.
"Crap, ghost alarm."
He snatched the thermos and fled, before they could blast him.
I am somehow not completely happy with this chapter but I can't make it any better than this. Review please?
As for updates, until my other story is finished, updates for this one will be irregular.