A/N: OK, alright, I've sat on this for a week. Dunno what's wrong with it. Maybe you can tell me. Time frame for this one shot: not long after the episode where Danny goes back in time to mess with his parent's experiments in college, dunno what it's called. Ah yes, this thing makes a seemingly odd jump in the middle, which hopefully becomes clear in the end.
Anybody who's waiting for the next chapter of 'The House', I'm sorry, I'm still messing around with it. There's something wrong with that too. Maybe there's something wrong with me, GAH!
Inspired by 'Two Roads', by Chaos Dragon. I would have said 'based on', but it turned out differently than I expected (maybe that's what's wrong with it :).
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.57. Sacrifice
Coughing, his eyes tearing, Danny ran through the school, trying to see through the thick smoke that was all around him. He heard others, screaming, crying, and twice he fell over somebody who just laid on the floor, unmoving, overcome by the smoke and the lack of oxygen. He ignored them, there was nothing he could do for them, if he tried to get them out they would probably both perish. His panicked brain had only one thought: out, out, out!
Gasping for air, he suddenly found himself on the ground, his face pressed against the floor, right next to the bulky body of what seemed to be a football player. He couldn't see any further than a foot, and he had no idea where he was or in what direction he should flee. The only thing he knew was that if he stayed where he was, he'd die.
"I don't wanna die," he muttered to himself, and started coughing again.
He pushed himself up on his knees and started crawling, keeping his head as close to the ground as possible, as it seemed the smoke wasn't as thick there. Another body was laying in his way and he had to go around it.
"It," he thought, "Think of it as 'it'. Not a person. It."
He felt like he had been crawling forever when finally he felt a breeze of fresh air hit his face, coming from his right. He almost started crying when he realized that of all the directions he could have chosen, he chose the right one. He got lucky, for once.
Quickly, he started moving into the direction the breeze of fresh air came from, only to encounter yet another body of a student. He was about to go around again, when he realized that this particular student was wearing combat boots.
No it. Sam.
"Sam!" he choked, reaching out to grab a hold of her, feeling his way across her body until he reached her head.
He started shaking her, trying to wake her up, but she was too far gone. Desperation took hold of him. He wanted out of the school, but he didn't want to leave Sam behind. Coughing, panting from exertion, he grabbed her arms and started pulling, sliding her across the floor with jerky movements, almost passing out in the process.
All thought vanished as he moved, his vision reduced to zero as he had to close his eyes from the stinging smoke, only guided by that cool breeze that made the smoke twirl.
Sirens. Heavy footsteps. Hands that grabbed him, grabbed Sam, his would be, could be, girlfriend. Fresh air, blinking lights. Nothing.
Danny hovered above the school, scanning the area, trying to locate the ghost that had set off his ghost sense. He was tense, not only because he had already missed more than fifteen minutes of his English class, but also because he had a feeling that this was the ghost who'd started all those fires lately. At first it had seemed like freak accidents, houses, office buildings, even the library suddenly bursting into flames, fires so intense the fire department invariable came far to late to save the building.
Danny had done his share of saving people, flying them to safety, actually gaining him some sympathy from the public. Even his parents were starting to wonder if maybe he wasn't all that bad. So far, nobody had gotten hurt.
And then, yesterday, he had seen it happen. A huge flame, bursting out of the top floor of an old warehouse, and then a ghost fleeing the scene, a ghost that looked like it consisted solely of fire. He'd pursued the ghost immediately, but it had sent several fire balls at him, which he hadn't been able to avoid, and he had crashed to the ground with some severe burn wounds, wounds that thankfully disappeared mostly when he changed back to Fenton.
A sizzling sound was his only warning. On instinct, he ducked, having the huge fire ball go over his head and crashing into a tree, which started burning instantly. Danny swirled, and blasted the flaming ghost with a huge ecto blast, sending it flying backwards. Then he quickly produced a shield to fend of yet another fire ball. It bounced into the pond.
Desperately, Danny rushed the ghost, knowing he had to catch it quickly, because those fire balls were causing a lot of damage. Below him, he caught sight of Sam, holding a thermos, worriedly looking up at him. She was skipping math for him, but he knew that she, unlike he, could afford it. Tucker would have been there too, but he was at home, sick.
Again a fire bolt. It hit the school, sending a few bricks flying, but no fire started from it. Again he blasted the ghost, and it crashed down on the ground, right in front of Sam, who was struggling to get the cap off the old, battered thermos. It seemed stuck somehow, and Danny saw to his horror how the ghost turned his attention to her. Certain that he needed to distract it, he fired up a huge ecto ball and hurled it at the hovering ghost.
Everything happened in slow motion after that, and the events kept repeating themselves in this head from thereon, forever burned in his mind, driving him insane until he could no longer bear it.
The ghost hovered, and started to turn around as if to check where Danny was. Sam managed to get the cap off and moved forward, making use of the ghost's temporary distraction to try and suck him in. Danny fired the ecto ball.
The ghost saw it coming and darted out of the way. The ball hit Sam square in the chest, just as she pressed the button on the thermos. The thermos flew out of her hands, it's blue beam neatly capturing the ghost and falling to the ground. Sam fell to the ground too, a huge, smoking hole in her body where her chest had been, her purple eyes forever wide in surprise and pain.
Clockwork looked at the young ghost hovering in front of him, his once powerful green eyes dimmed to a dull gray, his white hair hanging in his face, the skin-tight body suit no longer that, but hanging loosely around him.
"You are aware of the consequences," Clockwork said severely, changing from an old man to a child, and then back to a young man again.
Danny didn't answer, his mouth twitching, his mind obviously in turmoil, trying to work his way around the choice presented to him, the possibility to either save Sam's life, or save a lot of other people, unknown to him, and have Sam stay dead. By his hands.
He looked at his hands, feeling the power he held there. Power to save. Power to kill.
Clockwork gestured at the two identical mirrors, one showing a graveyard, a tombstone with a single name on it, and two grieving parents standing there, holding each other while putting pink roses on the grave. The other showed a church, filled with people, mostly teachers, parents and students. One of which was Sam Manson. A notice outside read 'Caspar High School Memorial Service'.
Danny stared at the two scenes in front of him with hollow eyes. The choice seemed simple. A trade off. Sacrifice one to save many. But he couldn't live with it.
"You said it would get better in time," he said hoarsely, as if he hadn't used his voice in quite some time, which the ghost of time knew for a fact he hadn't.
"It doesn't. It'll never get better. It's been two months. Two months since I killed her, since I murdered her, and I never realized...," his voice caught in his throat, and he stopped for a moment, looking at the mirror showing Sam, sitting in the church, looking back to smile at him.
He floated closer and brought his hand up to almost touch her, and then let it drop again. The pain was almost physical, the pain of losing her, the knowledge that because of his ghost powers, she was gone. If only...
"I never realized," he continued, his voice stronger now, "That I would give anything, everything, any sacrifice, to keep her safe. This cannot happen. I won't allow it."
The only thing he had to do was go back to that point when he stepped into the portal, and then simply not do it. If he never became Danny Phantom, Sam would live. If he never became Danny Phantom, a lot of people would die. Sam would never forgive him. But she would never know.
He turned to look at the shape shifting ghost, his mouth set in a thin line, a determined expression on his face. The ancient ghost gestured at the mirrors.
"You are willing to sacrifice all these people to save her?" he asked, "Remember, there is no going back, like the last time. This choice is forever."
A flash of anger appeared in Danny's eyes, and for a moment he looked fierce again, his eyes a blazing, angry green.
"You already knew what I was going to choose," he growled, "Do it."
He was sitting in the back of the church, beside his sister and parents, watching the minister as he read the name of the students and teachers who had died in the fire at the school. His mother grabbed his hand and squeezed it, looking at him with tearful eyes, thankful that her son had been saved, but sad because of the many who had died.
Danny didn't feel anything though. He didn't feel happy or sad, but strangely cold, lost. The only emotion he could feel, if he let himself, was an inexplicable guilt. Somehow, he felt responsible, and although he knew he had had nothing to do with the fire, and in fact was seen as somewhat of a hero because he had saved Sam, he still felt as if he could have prevented this all from happening.
It was this fact that made him push everybody away from him, his parents, his sister, and even Sam and Tucker, who had been home sick that fateful day. Sam was seated a couple of rows in front of him, and he looked longingly at the back of her head. Somehow, she must have felt his gaze on her, because she turned around and smiled sadly at him, a smile that faded away when he purposely looked away again.
He shivered, and, pushing his mother's hand away, wrapped his hands around his body, trying to keep that cold feeling away, careful not to touch the bandages on his shoulders.
Two months had passed, his wounds were starting to heal, wounds that he hadn't known he had when he was trying to get out of the school. He had been hit in the shoulder by a fire ball from the flaming ghost when he was trying to flee the classroom. For some reason, that memory stuck with him.
He shouldn't have fled. He should have done something, but he didn't know what. It was not like he could fight a ghost.
Would he really make this choice (if given the option by Clockwork)? Remember, this is the guy who ripped out his ghost half because he couldn't deal with the loss of his family and friends... of course, he didn't know the consequences at the time.
What is it with me and fire lately? Fire terrifies me. I always check the stove twice to make sure the gas it turned off, I never burn candles, I have multiple smoke detectors in my house. So why does this fire stuff keep popping up in my stories? Yay for Freud. I must be a subconscious arsonist :D
