Danny was sitting on the floor of his bedroom in front of his closet. The doors were wide open, and out spilled a tangled mess of clothes and shoes and the like. Beside him was the old leather suitcase his father had given him to use when they had first gone to stay with Vlad for the college reunion. Thrown inside it without order was one of his shirts and a pair of jeans. The rest of the mess sat in front of him waiting to be packed away as well, but laid simply untouched, as it had since the first and last two articles of clothing were packed.
Danny was not even looking at the pile. His eyes were averted, staring down at the picture he held in his hands. He had forgotten about what he was supposed to be doing, but not entirely. In the back of his mind, he realized this action was inevitable. He knew perfectly well that packing his things to leave the place he had spent his life and had invested so much time and effort to protect would mean acknowledging that his family was dead. This was something he was not ready to do, and though he was not aware of it, it was not something he could do. Still, even with Vlad here, even with all the news reporters wanting to get the story from the best source possible, he did not really believe it was true. A part of him knew it, but a part of him felt like he was caught in an unrelenting nightmare of an impossible event that he would just have to wake up from.
He fought to keep himself from remembering that Vlad had lightly suggested he pack his bags so that he could whisk him away to Wisconsin forever without hope of returning—lightly, of course—and that that was really what he should be doing. His eyes gazed at the smiling faces of his family instead, the picture that had been taken on that hot day during one summer in front of Fenton Works. It seemed impossible to him now to comprehend that things could have once been so carefree and without pain. He felt ignorant staring at the scene. He felt as if he should have known that fate only built one up to tear him down when he was least expecting it. He knew that he should have anticipated such a thing. Why else give him ghost powers than to take away the only source of comfort and love he had? Built up by those powers, given strength, confidence, a good conscience; torn down by those powers, racked with guilt, frustration, pain.
His grip on the picture frame tightened abruptly. He ground his teeth together in sudden rage. He was shaking as he hissed, "I hate you, God,"his eyes unmoving from the picture of his late family. "Fuck you."
There was a knock at his door, and Danny jumped. He jerked his gaze away from the picture and turned to the door and stared at it intently.
"Daniel," Vlad called, "Can I come in?"
"Uh… yeah, door's open," Danny called, straining to keep his voice steady. He willed himself to calm down, forced his rigid body to relax, to stop shaking, to loosen his jaw and let it hang slack before his teeth shattered from the pressure. As Vlad began to open the door, Danny found himself subconsciously hiding the picture beneath the mess of clothes and shoes and the like.
There was no one exact reason for this action; partially, it was because he knew he would be pitied if Vlad saw him staring at it, which he did not want. He already felt helpless enough as it was, and he did not want to give Vlad any more justification to coddle him. Perhaps it was also because he still felt partially weary of Vlad. He thought perhaps Vlad was simply plotting something against him and was using the fabricated sympathies to lull him into false security so he could betray him, and he realized he did not want to give him something to use against him should he do so.
"Little badger," Vlad said as he stepped into the room. His expression was softened with weary hopelessness and despair. His eyes were dim. "How far have you gotten into packing?" His voice was quiet and timid and guilty.
"I haven't really gotten into it at all yet," he said, sounding slightly sheepish. "Why?"
"Unfortunately we won't be leaving as soon as I had hoped, little badger. The flight on Monday morning had no open seats available, so we won't be able to leave until later."
"How much later?" Danny asked quietly and seriously, his forehead creased with concern.
A part of him did not want to leave Amity Park, for, again, he did not quite grasp the fact that his family was lying dead in a cold morgue somewhere, but, on the other hand, he did not want to stay in Amity Park either, because all evidence pointed to that conclusion, and if it were true he did not want to stay in Amity Park any longer than he had to. It was already unbearably painful to stay in the place his family had once thrived, amongst the lingering odors specific to each of them individually, surrounded by their possessions. It seemed impossible to stay here any longer than Monday.
As if backhanded again by God, Vlad spoke softly but with unmistakably strong humiliation, "Two Tuesdays from yesterday."
Danny stared at him for a small moment, his mouth hanging slightly agape. Then, he spoke, his frustration and vexation just barely controlled, "God dammit."
"Little badger, please—"
"God dammit!" he cried, and rose to his feet and almost ran past Vlad as he retreated from the room.
"Danny!" Vlad called after him, and reached toward the door absentmindedly. He was going to go after him, but he could not bear to see that despair and uncontrolled rage that he knew he had caused in him. He thought that perhaps it would be best to give Daniel some time to be alone as well. He decided Daniel would not, most likely, do anything rash, therefore it would be fine to let him be for a while. So, humiliated, he sat down on Daniel's carpet and began to soundlessly and neatly sort through the mess and return each article of clothing to its rightful place in his closet. When he got to the bottom of the pile, he saw the picture. He picked it up and held it timidly in his hands.
The front door downstairs opened and closed, and he went to the window to see Daniel running down the road. He hurried down the stairs, clutching the picture frame to his chest, and set after him, because Daniel had, in fact, done something rash.