Author's Note: In order to avert the Death Is Cheap trope and not make it sound like a gleeful killing off on the part of the author (me), Tucker's death is going to be explained as the traumatic loss of someone really would - hesitantly and not in full at first, not until Danny's ready. Give it time. Also, thank you to my reviewers for their feedback, which is highly appreciated as I struggle to keep Danny in-character. Again, feel free to tell me if I begin to screw up characterization on anyone. We're veering so far into Dark And Edgy territory I'm beginning to think I've going over the edge into cheesy grimdarkness. Also if the HINT HINT HINT-ing throughout about Danny and the terrible Tuesday gets obnoxious, tell me and I will tone it back accordingly.

Hand to God, actual slashy slash will happen next chapter. Promise. I need to set it up before it happens or it'll look unrealistic... I just realized I'm writing about drug addicts and half ghosts and trying to stay realistic. There's something wrong in that statement, but I can't figure out what it is. Anyway please tell me if Andrew begins to overtake the story at any point. I just figured Danny would be vulnerable to a bad influence at this point, and we've all met that totally inconsistant friend you can't seem to break off ties with. But he isn't featured prominently after this chapter. This is really the most Andrew we're getting in a single chapter. I promise. Unless we do a flashback or something, his main purpose will now be the dealing of drugs followed by snarky remarks and maybe jail time.

Also I'm sorry about the length of this thing. Talk about an idea running away from me! I can't even begin to explain how this happened. Again, I promise romance will ensue if I can stop running at the mouth.

I'm scared of death, I'm scared of living. I gave up on the past because it's unforgiving. I misplaced my trust, I watched my world begin to rust... - Picking Up The Pieces by Blue October

Danny wasn't sure what he was looking for.

It was two months since his first run in with Andrew. Danny wasn't an addict, but he wasn't clean, either. He had to recognize the problems in him, even if he wasn't actively fighting against him. Ms. Asaji was trying to teach them about Koans, yet they asked questions he couldn't answer anymore. What did he want? Who was he angry at? He didn't kow and had no desire to keep trying to find out at this point. The only thing that mattered was trying to get through the day in one piece and keeping people safe. That was why he'd added fighting normal crime to his list of priorities, too, because if he'd been better at handling that Tucker wouldn't have died in the first place. He really shouldn't even be here pondering abstracts. He ought to be out there working, so that when he showed up at Andrew's house he'd have shiny new bruises to explain. Some part of him liked explaining them to him. At least someone was noticing. His parents certainly weren't.

But Asaji was one of those teachers that would notice his absence, inform other teachers, and generally raise the alarm. She spent a lot of time after hours talking to students about their lives and the struggles they were facing. Sam had always liked her. Asaji was the only person who would care if Danny didn't show up to class, which made her class mandatory. Other classes were more flexible. He barely showed up for his math course anymore, popping into his writing class periodically and somehow, this didn't bother him like it used to. Skipping class was part of the day now, as familiar and normal as the lack of friends by his side, and it wasn't like attending was helping his grade anyway. At some point this would've been unthinkable to him. In some far off time where Andrew was another face in the crowd and Tucker was still here he'd never have bee so brazen about this. That life seemed like another person's now.

Something was wrong. He thought he might even know what was wrong. But changing wouldn't make his life right anymore. He could flush the pills and delete Andrew's number and he wouldn't magically just be okay. He could try to get good grades and it wouldn't make his parents give a crap, nor would it bring Tucker back. Tucker... maybe that was what was really wrong. He had been Danny's friend even before Sam, a constant, as reliable and familiar as the sun, always there. There was a Tucker sized hole where his voice and presence still lingered in the halls. Danny had dreams sometimes where Tucker was there, telling Danny that he was sick and needed help, needed to stop.

Of course, the truth was that Danny was alone. He'd done a piece of art once, tried to draw something for art class to salvage his grade before midterms came out. He'd been half-high on what he took, that delirious weakness before sleep set in, and he didn't even recall what he came up with until he woke up and found it on his desk. The words "in the end, you're lost. always" were scribbled out in lavender an gray, buried in a sea of green smeared on the paper afterward, mixed with water so it wouldn't overwhelm all the other colors. He hadn't turned the picture in. There were too many personal things in it to open it up to scrutiny. BREATHE written drowning under other colors, other shades of blue. Everything was blue, gray or green. There was a boy in the center with a gouged out, bleeding hole where an eye had been, hands tearing at him. Hands that were pulling him a half dozen different directions. The blood was unnaturally black, pooling underneath him.

He didn't get it, what it meant. Except with how dreary and rainy it had been lately, how cold and snowy, it was probably very accurate that everything was cool toned. Cold. No warmth, no life, just blue blood and gray everywhere. The art teacher would've liked it. Mr. Vargas would have told him it was beautiful. But he might have seen past it to the problems that lurked beneath. He might have wanted to hang it up so people could see it, or something equally annoying. Danny had abandoned his search for popularity back when he had friends; he wanted peace and quiet, nothing more.

Oh, wait. Maybe he did know what he wanted. Maybe that was why he had those pills. It was a thought, anyway, something to ponder over as he walked home through the cold streets, having managed to get through Asaji's class without any troubles today. Thank God. Now he could go lay down and get a few cautious moments of sleep in before ghosts attacked yet again. Night was their favored time, and that was good, because it meant the evenings were relatively safe to sleep through. He had to rouse himself once or twice out of a drug induced sleep to fight, and those had been barely won conflicts he hoped not to repeat. He barely remembered any of it, only realized he'd been hit when the bruises formed the next day, didn't even recall who he was fighting until it was on the news.

That ought to have been terrifying. It wasn't. Nothing could convince him to give up the only peace of mind he had left. He had to call Andrew later today, see if he'd gotten ahold of anything. Andrew was strangely sweet to Danny, 'manipulative bastard' or not. He'd let him have a few pills on the house, extras to hold him over, and given him a litany of warnings the second time Danny bought from him. It was probably a front of some kind, some kind of deception to keep the black haired boy buying. He didn't have to. Danny would've bought this from him had he been a total asshole. Ultimately he found he didn't hate the drug dealer as much as he thought he would. When it got right down to it they were just people trying to survive.

A voice broke Danny out of his reprieve. "Fancy a ride, Daniel?"

He looked at Vlad as if he couldn't understand a word he said. "I don't have time for you today."

And people think Andrew is the manipulative bastard. He walked forward on automatic, never breaking pace or speeding up. Vlad could tutor people in that particular art. He ran a hand through his hair idly, feeling the wet of the snow cling to his fingers. He hated winter. Soon it would the pre-Christmas season and everyone would be out and about, celebrating the supposed family holiday. He'd be alone as usual trying to ignore the Christmas specials and the growing sense of loss when he absently thought about what to get Tucker and Sam and then corrected himself. All he wanted to do was salvage his Science grade via a quick paper before getting a nap in prior to tonight's inevitable wave of crime.

"Now, really," Vlad frowned, "I was just asking. It's sure to be faster than walking in this weather. Not everything I do is filled with mal-content."

Danny huffed and turned to open the car door. "Fine, whatever. It's not like I can't just phase away if you do try anything."

"Honestly, your father's paranoia is rubbing off on you if you think that's what this is about. I was headed over to the police department's internal affairs office and saw you," he explained calmly. "It's just a ride, not a car. You can relax."

Yes, I can. If I have two white pills pressed under my tongue and all the lights turned off. This limo has neither. Danny studied Vlad silently for a moment. "This really was an accident. This isn't my normal route home."

"I hate to hurt your self-importance, but I don't know your normal route home in the first case," the older man replied, smirking. "What, did you miss me?"

"No," Danny said flatly, his voice neither angry, snarky or sarcastic. "Don't try to bait me. I'm not in the mood for witty banter - funny, joke around Danny isn't here today."

Vlad quirked an eyebrow at that, but it was clear Danny was done talking, and he stared silently out the window with an unusually tired expression on his face. His hair was a mess, his jeans were frayed and torn, and he was thinner than usual. His lack of energy was obvious, but when Vlad looked closer it wasn't just that, it was a hundred little things that were off. Danny looked as bad as he felt, and that was saying something. There were faint blood stains on his jacket from some scuffle somewhere. His backpack was laden down with homework. And he wasn't even trying to make jokes anymore.

While business and the maintenance thereof had kept Vlad away for several months, he was not so oblivious he didn't know about Miss Manson's family moving away, or the fate of Tucker Foley. He knew these things had to be taking their toll on Danny's health, physically and mentally. Nobody bounced back forever. He reached out and placed a hand on Danny's shoulder, an action that once would've gotten a violent reaction. Today all it earned him was a look. Not even a glare, just a silent expression. There were rings under Danny's eyes, dark ones that aged him, making him look too old, too worn down. The silence between them was like a dare for Vlad to press further, a nonverbal go ahead, ask me what's wrong. Danny baited and challenged him with a single look from his brilliant blue eyes. Prove you give a damn, his look said. Make me believe you care.

Vlad took the bait. He was too concerned not to. "Are you okay?"

Danny hadn't counted on him actually saying anything. "...I'll live."

"That's not what I asked."

"Define 'okay', then," Danny snapped back, with a touch of the old witticism returning. "My okay is different than your okay."

"I don't think you're either, Daniel. You look like crap-"

"Love you too, Vlad."

"-and you've been through a lot. You know you can always talk to me," Vlad finished, sounding lame even to his own ears. Danny snorted and rolled his eyes at him derisively.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd be a soft place to fall. Please," Danny's sarcasm and disdain was now in full swing, "Don't try to tell me you're always there for me. Like I don't know what you want me for? You don't give a shit about me outside of the ghost DNA and I don't half time for this."

It felt good to swear, to shock someone, to see those dark gray-blue eyes widen. Danny had been doing stupid things for a while now, but this was a guilty pleasure he had little guilt for. Some part of him that was tired of playing the good boy enjoyed letting loose a few choice words and seeing people react. Why, yes, he was human and he could sink that low. Shock tactics or not, he got the reaction he wanted out of Vlad, an indignant gasp and clear anger since he'd hit home perfectly. He freaking knew it. Everyone wanted to use him. He was beginning to realize the difference was only that few people were up front about it. He watched Vlad watch him and waited for the verbal response. This may be the most honest conversation we've ever had, he noted dryly. How pathetic. But in some sick way, he knew what Vlad did when he was angry was usually what he honestly felt, and that was what he wanted. He didn't have time for anymore lies. He wasn't that patient anymore. If anything he was less mature than he'd ever been.

"Is that really what you think of me?" Vlad hissed, clenching his fists. "You think I'm incapable of caring about someone?"

"I don't think I care," Danny shot back. "I just wanted you to know I'm sick of being used."

"I - look, I may not have behaved properly in the past, but I am not interested in 'using' you in any way. I happen to have a genuine fondness for you," he defensively replied. "Is that so hard to fathom?"

"Yes." He didn't even have to think about it. He paused and thought about how hurtful that must've sounded. "No. Maybe... I don't know. I don't think I can deal with you on top of everything else. Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Do you really want to be left alone?" Vlad asked. "If that's true, why take my ride in the first place?"

Danny didn't answer. I'm not going there, his expression said plainly. Too tired to.

They came to a stop in front of his house, and the silver haired man reached for Danny's arm to stop him. When he did so, Danny inhaled sharply. He didn't move. For a moment they looked at each other, and Vlad wondered how they'd come to this point. How he'd wrecked his own relationships until he couldn't talk to anyone. Why was something so simple so ridiculously hard? He knew how to talk to exectuives, police officers, suck ups and detractors to his position as mayor, but Danny was different. Danny wasn't himself anymore. He was worn down, a young man on the cusp of adulthood who was more mature and more immature than anyone else he'd ever known. Vlad pulled out a scrap of paper with his private cell phone number written on it.

"Call me, if you need to talk." His eyes locked onto Danny's. "Please."

"I wouldn't know what to say," Danny admitted, something briefly raw and vulnerable in his eyes. It was a strange expression, one of honesty and openness. In that moment Vlad thought he saw a flicker of the real Danny underneath the mask, and that person wasn't going to be alright.

"Then just say whatever you think. Or feel. I'm hardly the patron saint of understanding," Vlad added, "But I can try. If you'll give me a chance, that is."

He inhaled slowly. "...Okay."

Andrew picked up his phone on the first ring. "Yes?" he asked calmly.

"Its, um, it's me."

"Ah, Danny. That's not too bad. A dozen lasted you a week. You should try to keep it that way; it's not something I reccommend in large doses." He smiled even though Danny couldn't see him. "I assume you want a refill."

"I have the money," Danny said quietly. "I was hoping you could up the number a little."

Andrew paused. "I'm not too keen on this after... you know."

"That was an accident. Just give me twenty or so. Please? I've been having a really rough week. Just this once, man."

"Alright, I guess," he sighed. "I really hope you don't plan on killing yourself with that."

"What? No! I wouldn't-"

"Because you know I can get you uppers, and I don't want to see you go. Shit, Danny, if things are that bad consider anything yours for free. You know you can talk to me, right?" He fiddled with his necklace as he talked, the heavy gold chain weighing down on his neck. "I know a guy, a rehab, sort of a runaway home, might help-"

"I'm fine," Danny stated clearly. "Why are you so worried about me all of a sudden?"

"You've been through a lot. Most of it at once. If you need anything, you know I'm here, right?" His tone became biting suddenly. "Or do you think I'm the cold hearted drug dealer out to only make money? After I saved your ass last time, I'm still the villain?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just... it's funny, you're the second person to try and get me to open up today."

"Good. You need it. And you'll get sixteen, no more. I don't want you overdosing. You do too much, you call nine one one, alright?" Andrew's voice left no room for arguments.

"Fine. I'll meet you at the usual spot. Jeez, you're like the team mom or something."

He snorted. "If I'm your mother figure, this is a profoundly screwed up family. There's something horribly Freudian about this, but I'm not going to think too hard about it. You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Like people would notice if I actually died."

"Just for that, you can have fourteen and consider yourself grateful."

Danny took two and called it a weekend.

His parents had informed him a ghost hunter's convention was in Paragon, not an hour away. No one would be as stupid as to cause havoc with that happening. Danny could take a rare night off and he immediately curled up in bed, laying there in the dark for the full twenty minutes or so it would take to get full effect. It had been scary, the first time, and he'd barely dared to do one. He'd slept like a baby and woke up feeling better than he had in months. Two would take him out for nearly a full day, and his parents were none the wiser. Their research kept them from noticing. They'd never noticed his absences. He was invisible to them most of the time now. They were so involved with whatever it was they were researching that they just couldn't pull themselves away, and maybe that was good. It helped him a lot with his ghost fighting, anyway. With them distracted his coming and going at all hours was a lot easier to pull off.

Any anger or hurt he felt at being totallt ignored all the time was subdued by the magic of the pills, and he drifted in and out of coherent thought, shifting from serious to surreal thoughts before slipping into the cool embrace of darkness. He drowned in it, it the lengthy black outs that this allowed him to indulge in. Sleep could be abused. Dreaming could be used. Night time didn't have to end. It would've been sick if it weren't so beautiful, so comforting, like falling into the outstretched arms of a benevolent spirit. He couldn't see this as bad. The real world was harsh and growing harsher. How could sleep be bad? How could dreaming be wrong? At least in his dreams things were peaceful.

He dreamt of Vlad, of Clockwork lecturing him on second chances. He pictured Vlad alone and trapped in a realm of gray, swirling mist. Then he was by Vlad's side, and while they weren't clear on where they were, at least Vlad wasn't completely lost in the darkness. It was a good dream, the kind where Vlad didn't trick him or hurt him, but instead took him by the hand as they walked through the thick fog. Everything was strange, and vague, and Danny thought it was weird when he woke up, yet he didn't try to forget it. It wasn't such a bad suggestion. Maybe he should give Vlad a second chance. Everyone deserved that, didn't they? He'd think about it when he was awake enough to sit up without falling.

The hand holding was a touch gay. Then again, it might've been symbolic. He'd never listened to Jazz's ramblings about dream interpretations. To him, they were precious escapes and not something to be wrecked with over analyzing. Besides, the meaning was pretty blatant, so it didn't need any looking at. Oh, look, my subconscious is being nice to me. It knows I skipped Psychology, so it explained it for me. Somehow, this was comforting when half asleep. He rolled over and drifted into a second sleep without another thought on the matter, happy for the uninterrupted weekend of peace and quiet. He drifted back as easily as he came, into a secnd dream he wouldn't remember upon waking up, content with this moment of peace. He thought the second one might've involved flying. He loved those dreams almost as much as he loved flying in real life. After that he was perfectly happy to stay still and quiet and drift in and out of awareness.

He stayed that way until, eventually, the pills wore off and he found himself hungry. He glanced at the clock. Nine in the morning. He checked his computer; nine Sunday morning. Maybe he ought to stick to one from now on, but he'd already lied to Andrew to get ahold of some extras, just in case. He just needed to have one on him in case something bad happened; these things were incredible at relieving panic. It wasn't an addiction, really, just a safety measure. He was the town's only super hero. He couldn't be freaking out all the time. They needed him to stay calm and collected. Yawning, he went down the stairs only to find Vlad in his kitchen, talking to his mother in hushed tones.

Well, so much for that whole 'good day' thing. He rubbed the side of his head and sighed. Calm down, they can't know. They don't have any proof and all the pills are hidden. And Andrew wouldn't tell on me. Would he? ...yes. Totally and completely. I bet it was him, come to think of it.

That much he'd never gotten - Andrew the manipulative bastard, caring buddy, drug dealer and suggester of therapists and rehabs. He hated the human race, screwed anyone who would do him, had a close circle of friends and profesed not to believe people could care about each other. Someone needed to get that guy some help; he was at least four different people on any given day. He was so all over the place that Danny was never sure how he'd react to anything. What offended him on Monday might make him laugh Tuesday and mean nothing to him by Friday. When he wanted to he could play innocent, but Danny had seen him angry, and angry Andrew was a terrifying blonde fury with a mouth so dirty that Danny still didn't know what half those words meant. It was weird having a friend who would just as soon slap you to wake you up as he would hug you.

So if anyone ratted him out, it'd be Andrew. Well, too late now to change that much. All he could do now was try to salvage the situation. Danny finger combed his hair and hoped he looked presentable enough to pass whatever inspection they were going to do. He never thought he'd see the day where he hoped Vlad was seducing his mother. I'm reaching new lows. His mother looked up as he got closer, eyes worried and thoughtful rather than squicked and unhappy. Vlad frowned at him worriedly. Oh, crap. I have a terrible feeling I might be giving Andrew a call after this is over. Assuming he's not responsible for this, that is.

"Hey, uh, what's up?" Danny asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"Danny, are you okay?" his mother asked gently. "You've been very run down lately. Vlad and I are concerned."

"But not Dad, of course," Danny muttered under his breath. His mother glared at him and he sighed. "Oh, like you've never slept in before. And what does Vlad know about me anyway?"

"I know as tired as you look, you still have to be very stressed to sleep for over twenty four hours," Vlad replied solemnly. "Your mother and I have been debating, with the end of my term as mayor coming up, if you wouldn't be better off staying with me for a bit, in Wisconsin."

"Oh, yeah, that will help," the dark haired teen repied grumpily. Stay calm and maybe they won't say anything. Maybe Andrew didn't call and everything's okay. Breathe, Fenton, breathe. "I barely know you. I don't care if you're a friend of my parents, that would be weird. I'm better off here where I have friends."

"Like who?" his mother challenged, quirking an eyebrow.

"Like Andrew. And..." he drew a blank. His mother crossed her arms over her chest, victorious. "Look, he's the only one who hasn't been a douche to me. Don't write him off."

"I'm not, sweetie, but you're under a lot of pressure here. It'd be better for you if you had a fresh place to start over, unwind a little," his mother cooed gently. She made it sound tempting. "Vlad has been changing, and he wants to help you. Your father and I think it'd be a good idea for you. Just consider it, will you? You've got a few months."

"Fine," he muttered, opening the fridge. "Am I in trouble or something? Andrew and I were going to go see a movie with a few of his buddies." Under his breath, he added, "I can't believe he thinks I need to get out more. Hypocritical jackass..."

"You're not in trouble, but you will be if you keep using that language," Maddie said firmly. "And I agree with him. You need to get out of the house. Just be back before your curfew, sweetie. We worry."

Bull-freaking-shit. I didn't come home and you two didn't even notice. Andrew still can't believe that one and he's used to this stuff. He shuddered at the memory. That was the night I learned an important lesson about who I can really rely on. You didn't even notice. I was dying and Andrew goddamn Dejoi had to save me. With vivid blurriness he recalled staring up at him from the floor, the world awash in lights and moving dots as his consciousness gave out on him. That was the last time he ever bought anything from anyone else. He woke up on Andrew's couch to discover it was Tuesday and no one had missed him.

He'd gone out on a Saturday night.

He was trying not to be resentful, but it was kind of hard not to feel hurt. Like you really freaking care. If he closed his eyes and tried to recall it he could remember the smell of Andrew's suede jacket over him, the feel of the beaten up couch underneath him, so warm and inviting. He'd been asleep for so long, when he woke up he couldn't stop shaking. He hadn't known what happened. And the only person left that cared was the town whore, the drug dealer, the lowest of Amity Park's low. Danny was pretty sure he cried at some point. Andrew's friend Duan had been standing by as if guarding him, stoic and strong in the face of crisis. If you're Andrew's BFF, you probably get used to this kind of thing. He didn't remember how he got home or anything else that week. One betrayal after another was too much to take.

His most loyal friends were a drug dealer, the drug dealer's BFF, and Vlad. That sounded terrible even to him, even half awake as he made breakfast. Some part of him mulled over the idea of trying to trust Vlad. No, it was unthinkable even before now, but after having everything go wrong, why tempt faint with this? It was a terrible idea. He'd be leaving himself open to anything Vlad tried. He'd be breakable, pliable, and the town needed him. The town depended on him. His parents might make the connection - no, he couldn't think that without snorting. They wouldn't realize he was Phantom if the two vanished at the same time. Someone might. He'd be leaving the people of Amity Park to fend for themselves entirely.

Andrew had suggested rehab. His dealer had suggested rehab. That couldn't be good. Was he getting worse? Did he really need help? Was Vlad really any different than he'd been before? People changed and people revealed themelves to have more depths than he'd known, but trust didn't come easily to him anymore. He didn't know whether to throw himself at Vlad and scream 'fix me' or punch him in the gut and tell him to fuck off. In the course of two months only one person - two, counting Duan - had been truly consistant and trustable. That wasn't a good thing. He was getting a reputation. It was finally leaking back to his parents. If those two oblivious idiots were noticing, how much time did he have left before he crashed and burned?

How desperate did he have to be before he admitted something was wrong? If that terrible Tuesday morning hadn't been enough, what would it take for him? He wasn't sure if he was fine or not. He wasn't sure if he loved his parents, hated them, thought they were idiots or geniuses. Everything was on uncertain ground that only got shakier as time went on. He didn't know if it was okay to leave or not. He wasn't sure if he cared if Amity Park was okay when he was gone again. Screw them. They hadn't done anything for him. Before breakfast was over he'd downed aspirin to combat the migraine forming, pretending not to see two sets of worried eyes on him. He had an easier time believing the concern in Vlad's eyes than his own mother's. How sick was that? How on Earth had they reached this point? He prayed Andrew had some weed on hand. All he wanted to do was let him take the wheel and make this all okay again. Because right now, Danny couldn't face his life, and he didn't even want to try anymore. Somebody stop the world, I want to get off now. It was such a pathetic thought he had to smile at it. The cool air felt good on his face when he forced himself out the door. Freedom. Morning. Daylight. Two now familiar forms, one blonde and the other dark wine red. A brief reprieve from reality, one that he needed to survive. Daily living was a nightmare and escape came in the form of people he'd never given the time of day to back when he had Sam and Tucker. How far I've fallen. Please, God, let Andrew have something.

If only he didn't have to go back when this was over.