A/N: Ha, this one was easy. I already had the flashbacks and they take a large part of the chapter. And I'll stop complaining so much.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

Out of the woods

Danny looked at his hands. They were white and raw from the water and soap. He had been washing dishes all night and the restaurant was closed now. He looked at the clock. It was a little after one o´clock. He felt very tired, but at least he had some money now, and a hot meal in his stomach. They had been leftovers but he didn´t mind.

He thought about his mother. He had managed to track her down but she was sedated and he didn´t know if he got through to her. He would visit her again tomorrow, he decided. At least she had recognized him. He wondered why she was the only one who seemed to remember him and did not have the urge to drive him away as soon as he made himself known.

"Please tell us your name."

"Danny Fenton. I already told you that."

Dr Gregory shook his head. "Your real name. We've called the number you gave us. They've never heard of you and don't want you to use their name."

Danny closed his eyes, trying without much success to suppress the anger that was rising in him. It wouldn't do to go and destroy the hospital in a fit of rage.

"Well?"

"Daniel M... F... Fisher. Danny Fisher. I don't have any family."

He kept his eyes closed so that the doctor wouldn't see the burning red glow coming from them.

The owner of the restaurant eyed him suspiciously as he handed him his money. Danny pocketed it without comment. He was grossly underpaid and they both knew it, but this way no questions were asked.

"Do you need me tomorrow?" he asked, but to his disappointment the man shook his head.

"We´re closed on Mondays. Come back on Tuesday and we´ll see."

Danny stepped outside at the back door of the restaurant and took a deep breath, earning him a coughing fit.

"Great," he thought sourly, "A cold, that´s all I need." He stood for a moment and then stepped out into the rain.

"No matter," he thought, "I can always go intangible to get the water off."

He walked the short distance to ´his´ house, went inside and transformed. He frowned when he noticed the slowness of the transformation but shrugged it off. Once upstairs in his room, he transformed back and removed the water from his clothes by going intangible briefly. Then he let himself drop on his sleeping bag without bothering to take off his coat. He was asleep instantly.

He awoke slowly. He listened to his heartbeat and breathing for a while and then tried to open his eyes. They seemed stuck for some reason so he brought his hand to his face. Or that was what he intended, because as soon as he moved a sharp pain shot through his body, making him twist violently. He uttered a long moan and then he laid still again, gasping. OK, movement was bad. So don't move.

He laid there for a while, still not able to open his eyes, listening. He heard a slight rustle, as if a breeze was blowing, moving the leaves of trees. The buzzing of insects. A bird, chirping. Then he realized he was not lying on his bed as he had first thought. He was on the ground. He felt leaves and twigs in his back.

Again he tried to move his hand, more careful this time. Slowly he brought it to his eyes. Something wet and sticky was on his head and in his eyes. He rubbed it away and managed to open one eye. He blinked to clear his vision and looked at his hand. Red. Blood red.

"What the hell..." he croaked.

At that moment another painful spasm seared through his body, causing him to cry out. After that he just laid still for a long time, staring at the tree tops above him.

After what seemed like an eternity he tried to move again. Bad idea. After the spasms stopped he just laid there, panting. But he had managed to roll on to his right side in a slightly more comfortable position, and he had managed to open his other eye. He stared at the bushes around him. He waited. He could see the sun shining through the leaves of the trees, the shadows on the ground slowly moving in time. His mind was blank. Eventually he would have to move again.

He took a deep breath and slowly moved his left leg. That wasn't so bad. Now his left arm. Slowly he placed his hand on the ground and pushed himself up. That took nearly all the energy he had and he stared at the ground for a while, his head hanging.

Finally he pulled his right arm from under him and placed it on the ground. Slowly, painfully he pushed himself up until he was on his hands and knees. Then he managed to sit back. He looked around, now fully upright. He saw nothing but trees and bushes. He was in a small clearing in the forest that seemed to go on endlessly in every direction. There was no sound, other than the wind in the trees, the birds and his own rasping breath.

He had been lying in the dirt, there were twigs sticking in his hair and on his back. He looked at the ground where he had been laying. Where his head had been, the dirt had a slightly darker color. Blood. His. He felt his head and winced as he touched the cut on his forehead, just below the hair line. Then he checked himself for other injuries. His arms were badly bruised and contained several minor cuts. The silvery metal bands were still there, but he hoped he was out of range now.

He grinned. Even in his human form, he could take out a ghost if he put his mind to it. At a price though. He lifted his shirt and gasped. His abdomen was black, caused by some huge internal bleeding. Well that explained the spasms, he supposed. He felt a little better now though, so the next thing he would try was standing up.

After several attempts he managed to stand, leaning against a tree for support. He took a tentative step and crashed to the ground again.

"Way to go Fenton," he muttered as he slowly got up again.

This time he actually managed a few steps before falling down. He slowly made his way through the trees, moving from one tree to the next and grabbing them to stay upright.

After several hundred yards he stopped. He seemed to be going down somewhat, making it easier to walk in that particular direction. He wondered if that was the right thing to do. He could be inadvertently moving back to the house. He shrugged. He didn´t know, so it didn´t matter. He started moving again, this time a little easier. He was glad he had these unique healing capabilities, otherwise he would probably still be lying at the place he woke up. Or worse.

Suddenly his feet splashed in a shallow pond and he caught himself before falling into the water. Water! He suddenly realized he was very thirsty. He bend over and cupped some water in his hand, but paused before drinking. Was this really safe? He could get sick... what the heck, he was thirsty, he would die of thirst before he would get sick. He drank some of it, it tasted muddy, and then he splashed some water onto his face to try and wash the blood of. He didn´t know if he was successful at it.

He took a few steps out of the pond and sat down heavily on a fallen tree. The light began to fade somewhat and he guessed the sun was setting already. It must be later than he thought it was. He got up and started moving again when an electric jolt went through his body. He cried out and went down on his hands and knees, panting, shaking his head to clear his mind.

Two black shoes appeared in his line of vision, striding confidently towards him and stopping right in front of him. He looked up, his eyes traveling from the immaculate black suit to the face of the man he hated.

"Well now Daniel. I thought I taught you better than this. Maybe we should repeat the lesson."

Danny watched as Vlad moved his thumb to the red button on the small, shiny device he held. His mouth went dry.

"No," he wanted to say but the shocks already seared through him, making him fall on the ground and scream. After what seemed like hours but was in reality only a few minutes, it stopped.

"Please stop," he begged.

Vlad bend over and brought his face close to Danny´s. "Well?" he said.

Danny closed his eyes. "Please, father."

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