Title: Bygones

Characters: Danny, Dash

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,214

Genre: Friendship

When Dash entered the locker room and heard noises, he'd expected to see another football player hurriedly getting ready for the practice that was about to start. Probably Colt Tagert, Dash thought to himself as he used the coach's keys to open the office. That kid was always at least ten minutes late and ended up spending most of practice doing laps around the field. The playbook was on the corner of the desk just where coach had said and Dash tucked it under his arm, turning to let himself out of the office. Just as he closed the door behind him, he caught sight of the other boy in the locker room with him, and it wasn't Tagert.

Ever since the news had gotten out that Fenton was Phantom, he hadn't tried to hide himself while changing out for gym. Therefore, the scars and bruises didn't shock Dash when he saw Danny sitting on the bench behind a row of lockers tying up a bandage on his right arm. Most of the injuries were old and faded, and, from the way the guys had been gossiping, would probably be gone within days, only to be replaced with new wounds like the angry red burns he was sporting, dotted with that sickly green liquid that made up his ghost form. What did affect him was the unnatural way Fenton's right arm was hanging at his side.

"Is your arm okay?" Dash finally found himself saying, but it was a stupid question to ask – clearly the shoulder was dislocated. Dash just couldn't think of anything better to say.

Danny flinched a bit. Dash figured he'd known someone was there, but he probably was the last person Fenton was expecting. "Not really," Danny replied. "But I'll manage."

"I mean…" Dash sputtered, shifting the playbook to his left arm, "it's dislocated, so, d'you need someone to help you pop it back?"

"You know how to fix a dislocated shoulder?" Danny asked warily, quirking a thick brow. He didn't react when Dash walked over, though.

"Well, yeah, Fenturd," Dash replied with a dry smile, which Danny returned at the nickname. "I'm a football player, I've seen my share of 'em. I should be the one who's surprised that you know how."

"I wouldn't mind some help, I guess," Fenton mumbled, offering the limp arm over to Dash. The second his fingers touched his skin the cold hit him almost like an electric shock. Sure, he'd known Danny wasn't quite… normal, but he hadn't expected him to be so cold. He crooked the arm into a right angle and pulled the forearm out into the starting position.

"Jeez, you really knocked this bad," Dash commented, gently pushing the forearm in towards Danny's chest. Dash had dislocated his shoulder once in freshman year, and the pain had been pretty bad when the coach was trying to pop it back, but Fenton didn't so much as flinch.

"Yeah, this is one of the worse ones," he commented. Even still he seemed completely relaxed, which was better for relocating it, but worrying in what it implied about Danny's pain threshold. It took about three rotations before the arm properly snapped back into place, and at this Danny did let out a sharp hiss. He pulled his arm out of Dash's grasp and gave it an experimental roll. It moved fine.

"Well, that's the first time it actually went back right the first time," Danny said in a bright tone, then sobered as he looked over to Dash. "Uh, thanks, Dash."

"You're lucky coach sent me in here to get the playbook," Dash said with a shrug, picking the book up and tucking it back under his arm. "The other guys on the team… they're kinda… well, they wouldn't've helped."

Danny shrugged on his t-shirt stiffly and looked forlornly at the row of lockers. "They're scared of me, aren't they?"

Dash hesitated and looked Danny over apprehensively. Over the years, no one had really been sure what was happening to Fenton. Sure there was the fact that he'd grown taller, and quite a bit taller, but that was normal for a teenager. What wasn't normal was how his eyes had sunken in and his skin had become so pale and cold. Dash had noticed the slight chill Danny seemed to give off in passing but feeling just how cold his actual body was was even more unnerving. Everyone knew something was up with Danny though the most popular theory had been drugs. When they'd found out he was some kind of half-dead freak… it seemed to justify the fears some people had secretly been harboring. "I figured it'd be easier, y'know?" Danny continued when Dash failed to reply. "Everyone knowing. I wouldn't have to make excuses to leave class, or why I was late coming home, or why I couldn't run the mile and stuff. I thought everyone would accept me and life would just go on." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't… I never thought people would be afraid. You… you're not afraid of me, though?" Danny looked over at Dash, and the way he asked it seemed almost pleading. His eyes showed no desperation however. He just looked really, really tired. "I mean, you just helped me out right now when you said no one else would."

"Well, you've only been helping us for like, ever," Dash admitted, and Danny burst out laughing. He wasn't sure what was so funny about it, but he allowed Danny a few minutes to regain himself.

"N-no, I'm sorry, it's… you wouldn't get the joke, I guess," Danny excused himself, rubbing a tear from his eye.

"But you really could've killed me, if you wanted to, right?" His voice sounded strained to his own ears, and Danny almost recoiled in surprise. "Like, all the times I wailed on you. If you wanted to, you could've stopped me. I've seen what you can do, I'd probably be no match for ya, right?"

"I'd never kill anyone, Dash," Danny said through gritted teeth, then relaxed a bit and smiled. "That's not to say I didn't get back at you every now and again-"

"Well, I probably deserved it," Dash admitted, and Danny's smile seemed more genuine.

"But no. No, I'd never kill you."

"I know that, and that's why I'm not scared of you. You're the good guy. Really, I probably deserved a lot worse for how much shit I've been giving you."

"Goodness, Dash, is that an apology?"

"Don't push your luck, Fentonio," Dash replied, but he was smiling. So was Danny.

"You ought to get that playbook to the coach, though," Danny said, shouldering the bag Dash hadn't noticed was at his feet. A few large metallic objects clinked together inside.

"Yeah," he replied lamely, holding the book out in front of him as if he just remembered it was there. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, Fenton." It was weird, but he didn't feel scared of the strange boy as his friends did, or even look down on him as he had his first three years of high school.

He felt like maybe they had a chance of being friends.

"See ya, Dash," Danny replied, and he was gone.