80. Words

There really was no reason to be this upset about it, right? He had always known it. His parents hated ghosts, and hated them with a passion. Ghosts were evil, to be hunted down and taken apart molecule by molecule. He had been prepared for it, had run through every conceivable scenario of them finding out, but even the most positive ones – they accepted him, they were sorry, they even kept his secret – turned into a disaster.

They were obsessed with ghosts. Their son being one would be... unacceptable. In the end, they'd want to cure him. They would want to try and take away his ghost powers, would try to turn him 'human' again – whatever that might be. They wouldn't be able to see that he didn't need curing, didn't need 'fixing'. He was fine with who he was, a ghost-human hybrid. He was (almost) unique. He liked being a ghost.

Of course, they didn't see it that way. At all. When he accidentally turned human right in the middle of the lab – why, why did his father have to invent the Fenton equivalent of the Plasmius Maximus – a stunned silence had fallen over the room. His mother at the bottom of the stairs, holding a humongous ecto cannon, pointing straight at him. His father, standing about ten feet away from him, still holding what Danny had already christened the Fenton Maximus, staring at his son open mouthed.

"Oops," Danny said, "Eh... hi?"

For a few seconds, nobody moved, and he started hoping. Hoping that maybe his mother would lower the gun, rush forward and hug him, saying it was alright, that she loved him anyway, that he would always be her son no matter how freaky he had become. And his father, after the original shock, would find his son's abilities cool, and ask him to take him flying sometime.

A few seconds only. Then his father reached out and pressed a button, causing a faintly glowing cage to drop over Danny, trapping him.

"No, wait," he yelled, grabbing the bars, only to quickly let go again when they gave him a bad shock not unlike the specter deflector, "Dad! What are you doing!?"

His mother approached, and although she had lowered the gun, was still scowling at him. Danny winced.

"Mom?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Where's my son?" she asked.

"I'm your son!" he said, stumbling over his words, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but two years ago, when I had that accident with the portal... well, it turned me into a half ghost. I have ghost powers. And yes, I'm Danny Phantom."

"Danny Phantom is evil," his father said, his face a mixture of confusion and disgust, "My son is not evil. I know him. He would never kidnap the mayor or steal all that jewelry."

"I was framed!" Danny yelled, turning to face his father, "I didn't kidnap the mayor, he was overshadowed. And those jewelry stores... that wasn't me. Well, it was me, but... somebody was controlling me. I didn't know what I was doing."

He shot his father a pleading look, thereby neglecting to keep an eye on his mother. An oversight, as she suddenly poked him in the back with her bo staff. Danny yelped at the stinging feeling that spread in his shoulders.

"Ghost," she said.

"Yes." Danny said, now turning to face her, "I mean, no. I'm not a ghost now. I'm human, look, see?" He placed a hand on his chest. "Breathing. And come and feel this." He approached the bars and carefully reached out, sticking his hand through the opening. His mother backed away and looked at him distrustfully. "I have a pulse. Come and feel."

Instead of doing that, his mother pointed the bo staff at his hand and he quickly withdrew. The expression on her face didn't change, and Danny started to have a bad feeling about this. He turned back to his father, shooting him a pleading look. His father looked at him, frowning.

"Don't worry, Danny," he said, "We'll get you out of there. Can you hear me? Are you still in there?"

"What?" Danny asked, "No. No, dad, it's me. Danny. Your son. I've always been your son."

His father backed away, shaking his head. From the corner of his eye, Danny saw his mother round the cage, moving to stand next to his father.

"Mom?" he asked.

Two blank faces stared at him. His heart sank, and he stepped back. He knew those faces, he had seen them often enough in his imagination, running through his scenarios of possible outcomes of his parents finding out. He knew what they were going to say now, there was no reason to be surprised about it or even upset about it. After all, they were only words.

"You are not our son."