This is definitely a ruminating piece, and a deep first look at what hopefully will become a larger project in a separate fic I'm tentatively calling Ten Years Removed. This second piece was tough to get "right," and I'm still not sure if I've succeeded; an angsty teenager tends to get a little long-winded, and his writer is still new at knowing how far he should go. Thank you for reading and leaving your reviews of encouragement and constructive criticism. I write fanfiction for your enjoyment and for mine.
Summary (for pt. 2): Danny told himself that he didn't want Vlad to care, because if Vlad cared, then nothing was staying the same.
Use of The Ultimate Enemy back story: the future where Jack, Maddie, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Mr. Lancer are killed and Danny is left with Vlad. The photograph and Vlad placing a hand on Danny's shoulder inspired this fic, with support from music by Josh Rouse ("Sad Eyes" and "Life"), Shivaree ("New Casablanca"), Psapp ("Upstairs"), and Sarah Mclachlan ("I Will Remember You.")
Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is owned by a certain Butch Hartman. That ain't me.
How Much You Mean It
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Five Empty Spaces
Danny stood in front of his desk in his spacious new room, spending a lot of his time the same way he did most days now: gazing at a framed photograph in his hand. In it, a past version of himself stood outside Fenton Works with his family and friends on a nice day, beaming at the camera. From left to right: Dad, Mom, Jazz, himself, Tuck, Sam. The only picture of all of them that Danny had.
With a heavy heart, Danny flipped over the wooden frame and gazed at the back. No date anywhere. He only had a general idea of when the picture was taken. Had he already gotten his ghost powers by that time? He flipped over the frame again and squinted at the tiny version of himself in the photograph, as if maybe he could figure himself out just by looking really closely, but there was no way to tell. Finally, Danny pulled back, his heart sinking lower into his stomach. He couldn't help but notice how happy he and them all looked. He tried to imagine the feeling, but he couldn't remember what that happiness felt like anymore.
He really wished someone had printed a date on that photo.
Since all of them – his parents, his sister, his best friends - had gone, it was like a gaping vacuum had opened up in Danny's heart, sucking out every positive, energetic, happy emotion that he had ever had. These days he only felt loneliness, confusion, and anger…or else nothing at all.
His friends and family and himself smiled happily up at him from behind the glass.
"I miss you guys," Danny told them quietly.
There were two soft knocks on the door, but Danny didn't bother to make a move to answer it - his "visitor" would invite himself in anyway. Sure enough, there was a click and the sound of the knob turning a few seconds later, and the door opened quietly, slightly brushing against the carpet.
A month or two ago, it would've been easy for Danny to imagine that the person who came in to stand behind him was casting a large, menacing shadow over his smaller figure. Maybe he still was, but when Danny tried to reach out for that old chill he'd get when an enemy stood near, similar to his Ghost Sense going off, he encountered emptiness. Instead, his intuition simply felt a presence behind him, one that didn't unnerve him like it used to. Out of habit he glanced over his shoulder, and as expected, there stood a silver-haired man in his usual impeccable black suit.
Vlad Masters. Vlad Plasmius. Vlad the Fruitloop. Vlad-Who-Some-Days-Just-Couldn't-Take-a-Hint. Vlad the only other half ghost. Vlad, the only one Danny really had left.
Vlad was looking down at him solemnly - and a little sympathetically if Danny was desperate enough to believe it was there - and it was probably the most compassionate expression the teenager had ever seen the man wear. And he kept wearing it. There was none of the usual pompous, mocking, conceited look anywhere in the lines of his face or in his eyes. Was Vlad being...genuine? Danny couldn't trust himself or Vlad to be able to know, but if he was, Danny wasn't sure if he felt grateful, or annoyed, or simply as he always felt these days: at a loss.
Whatever it was, having Vlad looking at him like that - almost like he understood - was discomforting, so Danny turned his gaze back to the photo in his hand, sensing Vlad was doing the same. After a moment, Danny lifted his hand and began to slowly trace over each person through the glass. He offered his own weak smile to all of their happy faces, remembering the times his Dad had pursued "The Ghost Boy," especially when he had that bounty on his head; the time he and his Mom meant to go to Florida together, but ended up in Colorado; the time Jazz had "run away" from home because they had fight; all the times he and Sam and Tuck had gone ghost fighting together.
Danny sighed heavily and closed his eyes. And Vlad was always involved. Why did he always have to be involved?
Maybe that meant Vlad would get what he was talking about if he decided to say something….assuming he cared. Danny wanted to cringe at the idea, but that crushing, suffocating feeling laid heavily on his chest was far worse, and he was desperate to get rid of it. He needed some way, any way, to make it just go away and leave him alone.
And just like that, Danny began talking.
"There won't be any more hugs from Mom," he said quietly, wondering just how far down he was to be telling Vlad about his personal life. "No more crazy ghost-tracking inventions from Dad, no more Jazz to always be nosing around in my business. No more movie marathons with Tucker, and no more Sam to give me advice on the right thing to do…."
Danny was going to say more but had to stop himself, unable to ignore the deepening ache that came with speaking these words and knowing that they were true. He tore his eyes away from the photo and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, refusing to let Vlad - who was silently listening - see the resolve that hid his loneliness crumbling behind his eyes. In truth, the things he talked about weren't the only things he was missing. Like the hugs from his Mom that he would never have again, there would be no more spine-bending slaps on the back from Dad, no more having his hair fluffed up by Jazz when she was feeling affectionate. There would be no more rubbing elbows with Tucker, and no more having Sam place her hand over his.
Gestures of comfort, acceptance, and love. Things he missed a lot. Things he had taken for granted, after all.
Danny's eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the photograph, and he resumed gazing sadly at everyone in the picture he held, the painful void inside him widening again. 'You don't know what you got until it's gone' turned out to be true. It was bad enough knowing he'd never see them again, but they had also broken something when they'd left, and there was no one around to fix it.
"Daniel," Vlad finally spoke, and Danny felt one of his hands descend onto his shoulder. It was painfully reminiscent of the touches he was missing right at this moment, and of course Vlad didn't know that it split Danny's feelings right down the middle.
Vlad had given him a house - a home, even - after his family had died. With Vlad, his secret was safe. He gave Danny something no one else could give, and didn't have to do any of it. But he had done it, and as far as Danny had seen, for once it was without some creepy ulterior motive as his reason.
Still, Danny remembered dully, if his Dad had been given a grave to be danced on, Vlad would've been the first one to do the honors. And somehow, he also doubted Vlad would have any lingering sentiments for Jazz, Tucker, or Sam. The only death Vlad had any heart to feel sorry about was Mom's, even though she was always far out of his league anyway.
These thoughts – these truths – brought to Danny a twinge among his usual emotions of confusion, loneliness, and sadness: a spark of anger. What was this all about? he began to wonder, annoyed. What had he been thinking? Wait, he hadn't been thinking. Vlad didn't really care about any of them. He didn't really understand the loss of love when he never had it in the first place. His gesture – coming up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder, supposedly sharing his melancholy – was probably hollow. A strong part in of Danny rose up into his throat in rejection, like sickness, and he irritably shrugged Vlad off.
"Forget it Vlad," he said tightly, turning his head further away, refusing to look at whom he was talking to. He was hurt, he was tired, and he wasn't interested in any sick game Plasmius might be playing or any of his half-assed attempts at reconciliation. "You don't mean it." Danny was sure of it. He clenched his hand around the framed photograph so hard his fingers were beginning to ache.
An equally tired sigh was the response he got. Vlad was probably thinking that he was being immature. "You should know better than to think that my actions are simply out of malice, Daniel," he pointed out. Danny was only able to shrug numbly, not knowing what to believe. The knot in his throat wasn't loosening.
Vlad seemed to have had enough then, because he reached over, took the picture from Danny's hand, and set it facedown on the nearby desk. Danny watched with melancholy but didn't resist, not even when Vlad turned him around so that they were finally face-to-face and…
…and put his arms around him.
Was Vlad actually…hugging him? Danny stiffened in surprise and wariness, and waited for the backstabbing he felt was sure to follow. After all, hadn't he, Danny, been the one who started the idea of offering a hug just to do something underhanded to his enemy? He thought of jumping away or going ghost to defend himself, maybe even both, but...Danny's shoulders abruptly sagged. He couldn't find the will to. He'd lost it before he'd even moved into this place.
Vlad must've taken his reaction as close enough to acceptance, because he silently encircled his arms more fully around his lanky teenager form, one of his hands splaying across his spine. Danny felt himself relax a little more, but he didn't return the hug. He simply stood there, taking it in, trying to get his mind around what was happening.
His next thought was that the whole thing was bizarre and awkward and somewhat uncomfortable, but he couldn't help but feel that it was a little bit of something he had been missing. So, after a brief hesitation, Danny leaned into Vlad slightly and rested his head against the red silk handkerchief that was always in his breast pocket. The smell of Eau de Cologne or something fancy like that faintly clung to Vlad's suit. A few strands of the billionaire's long, silvery hair tickled his neck. And his beard was kind of scratchy against his temple.
The little sorts of details that Danny treasured in people.
"Chin up, Little Badger," Vlad said softly to him, placing a hand on his head affectionately.
Danny tried to hate Vlad then, he really did. He wanted to yell and protest and blame him for...for the nickname, for trying to be a father figure, for caring, for pretending he cared. "Don't," he protested, but it was as weak as it sounded. "You don't mean it." Danny didn't want to be lied to, he didn't want Vlad to care. If Vlad cared, then nothing was staying the same.
But the old enmity that used to be shared mutually simply wasn't there anymore, and Danny felt the will to try to drudge something to replace it slipping away. His brief burst of anger was quickly fading, replaced by a familiar sadness that constantly hung around the corners of his mind and created shadows in the photograph that lay on the desk.
The photograph. The people in it. Mom. Dad. Jazz. Tuck. Sam. Danny's eyes closed and suddenly tears burned behind his eyelids. He wouldn't cry again right now. It was just a hug. He took a deep breath to calm himself, his shoulders rising, and shakily exhaled. A moment later, the hand against his back drifted to his arm and moved down it to meet his own hand, grasping it loosely. A hand in his. Danny hesitated again, but then his fingers slowly curled around the paler digits. Almost…comforting.
There would be no more hugs from Mom, no more spine-bending slaps on the back from Dad, no more having his hair fluffed up by Jazz when she was feeling affectionate. There would be no more rubbing elbows with Tucker, and no more having Sam place her hand over his. The loss of them and the things they used to do left five empty spaces in Danny's heart.
But maybe Vlad, he realized, could fill those spaces for him.
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End.
