A/N: Thank you for all of your comments. Sorry this chapter was put up so late; my computer's been on the fritz, and getting on has been really hard lately, not to mention schoolwork and a touch of writer's block. I had hoped this chapter would be longer, but I like the way it turned out regardless, so I decided I might as well focus this chapter on Danny and Dash. Please review – it is the blood that keeps me alive. :)
Every fiber in Dash's body screamed 'No!'
When Mr. Lancer and Mr. Connor had called the support group's number a few minutes ago to discuss a new case they wanted the group to handle, the president, Alyssa, had decided that Dash would be the one to take it on.
Sure, Dash may have been a member of the group, but he had had no intention of actually doing any work. Unfortunately, unlike some of the extracurricular groups in the school he had sadly decided to avoid, one could not be a sleeping member in the Casper High Peer-To-Peer Support Group; Mr. Lancer himself had come in during the first meeting of the semester he had joined to announce that the group had been formed years ago with very serious intentions of helping students in effort to help students who were experiencing difficulties in their lives.
Personally, Dash thought they were a bunch of whiny crybabies. He was a teenager, but unlike what seemed to be every other person in his generation, he didn't spend his time moping around wondering why daddy didn't hug him more.
But, as he had found out last year, football didn't carry one as far as it used to. With the threat of being kicked out of the football team due to his grades slipping, Dash had worked hard to bring it back up to par, but had also decided to look into joining another extracurricular activity in an attempt to fatten his application. With his grades, and if football were to suddenly no longer an option to bank on getting into college, Dash needed to do something to keep from sinking.
Thankfully, his hard work and tutoring sessions had paid off and he had been able to stay on the team, but Dash had decided not to rest on his laurels and had continued to work with the support group – just in case he ever found himself in another crisis in which football might not be an option for his future anymore.
Unfortunately, this meant he had to work – Alyssa had wasted no time in dividing members into shifts for each day of the school week. Dash supposed that this was an adequate option; it meant that he could still devote himself to football, and he didn't have to go for a meeting with the group every day, but rather once or twice a week when he was to be on duty.
Though he had been assigned a few students throughout the year, all of whom had only had minor problems to work through and didn't require his support for more than a few weeks, Dash still loathed the group and everything it stood for. Let them work through their own problems. If they were stupid enough to kill themselves because their girlfriends dumped their asses or whatever, it shouldn't be anyone's problem except their own. And their families, he supposed.
That was why it was with a feeling of dread that he watched Alyssa put down the phone and assign a new case to Dash. He sort of wondered if she picked him simply because he was a popular, well-liked jock and she was just a fat loser. It wasn't as if he wasn't pulling his weight; he had just finished a case a couple of weeks ago!
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why couldn't she have picked someone else?
Composing himself and getting rid of the frown on his face, he knocked on the door of Mr. Connor's office and walked in. "Alyssa said you wanted to see me sir."
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Every fiber in Dash's body screamed 'No!'
He stood stock still while Lancer and Connor explained the situation to him. That freak Fenton had taken some depression survey and Connor thought that he may be in denial about his "condition."
Why couldn't these people just leave it alone? Denial. Please. It was probably just some way those psychologists came up with to convince healthy people they needed their help and to give their money to them while they invented more bull about what was wrong with them.
Sure, Dash knew it applied in some cases, but what about those people who weren't depressed or suffering some other condition? They'd deny it. Oh, but they couldn't do that – that would be wrong.
Dash fought the nearly overwhelming urge to roll his eyes while the guidance counselor spoke. He spared a glance to Lancer, whose arms were folded across his chest and whose eyes had the bored look of a man not really believing what he was hearing.
Dash never thought they could relate before.
"The concept is simple, Mister Baxter," Lancer interrupted Connor's speech. "We will call Danny into my office tomorrow and explain our concerns for his results. We will tell him that we do not wish to intrude by suggesting that he go for therapy, not unless he or his parents deem it necessary, but under school policy, we reserve the right to insist that he rely on a member of the support group the school has set up. That would be you."
Dash nodded.
"You are then to take Danny under your care and offer your support and presence whenever he requires you. You are also to get him to put his trust in you, and I find the best way to do that is to experience some sort of bonding session together. We would require you to check up on how he is from time to time, having meetings, if possible once a week or so, call him from time to time, and tell him that he may also call you or if he prefers, to set up a meeting with you whenever he wishes. Have him confide in you and let it be known that he does not have to worry about being judged or ridiculed."
Good luck with that
"Yes, sir," Dash nodded. Great, now he would be stuck with Fen-toad. He didn't know why Lancer was telling him all of this; he knew how to do his job. It wasn't as though Fenton would be his first case.
"I expect everything to get started by Monday, Mister Baxter," Lancer told him. "You will have the rest of the week to tie your loose ends."
"Yes, Mister Lancer." Dash said.
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Having finally reached home, Danny tossed his book bag down on to the carpeted floor and collapsed on the couch in relief, his body relaxing as soon as his head touched the soft material of the cushions.
His eyes snapped open as he heard the phone on the desk next to the couch ring.
Please, no.
"Urrgh!" With a Herculean effort, Danny managed to raise the upper half of his body so that he was in a sitting position, and reached out for the phone. He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice, however, as he picked it up and said, "Hello?"
"Danny!" Sam's cheerful voice filtered through. Great, the two people he did not want to see the most. Danny still had not forgiven Sam and Tucker for ditching him this afternoon during his run-in with Dash and the other two jocks.
"Hey," Danny said, his voice monotonous.
Grabbing the phone and setting it on the floor, he allowed himself the comfort of sinking back into the couch. There was no reason he had to be physically uncomfortable for this.
"Where were you, man?" he heard Tucker say as he settled himself down. "We called a while back, but no one picked up."
"I had a meeting. With Mr. Connor," Danny informed them, eyes flicking over to the television and mentally deciding against turning it on as he would have had to sit up again to reach it.
"Well, Tuck and I are almost done with our assignments," Sam said, "We wanted to know if you wanted to hang out at the Nasty Burger a little later?"
"Um…." The truth was Danny hadn't even started on the assignments handed to them earlier in the week yet. Between having been on ghost patrol half the time and trying to keep up with the other aspects of his life, and feeling far too exhausted and all too ready to procrastinate, the workload had been piling up, which was no great surprise. "I can't," he said. "Too much work to do. In fact, I think I should get to it right now."
"Oh, okay," they said, surprise evident in their voices at Danny's abrupt dismissal.
"Bye," Danny said, and hung up the phone. Finally rid of interruptions, he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, ready to have his body imprinted on the cushions.
Hours passed, but it could have been seconds for all the good it did Danny; when he awoke to the phone ringing again, his heart thudded in his chest as though scared back to life, and as he shifted his body to face the phone left on the floor, he was struck with a feeling of pure exhaustion.
Exhaling slightly because a small breath of air felt like all he had the energy to give at the moment, he allowed his hand to drop from his side to the floor and pick up the receiver. Bringing it back up to his ear, he said in a voice so laden with fatigue it even surprised him, "Hello?"
"Idiot," he heard the person on the other end of the line hiss.
Danny frowned. What the hell?
"Excuse me?" he asked, a surge of energy allowing him to prop himself up to a semi-sitting position.
"Idiot," the person repeated, this time in a stronger voice.
"Um, who is this?" Danny asked, puzzled.
There was a pause. Then a familiar, high-pitched nasal voice asked, "This is Danny Fenton, right?"
"Dash?" Danny frowned heavily. "How did you get this number?"
"Duh, Fenton," Danny could just see the blonde rolling his eyes on the other end. "I got it off your sister when she tutored me a couple years ago. I assumed you guys hadn't changed it."
"Uh-huh, great. Why are you calling me?"
"Because, Fenton, because of your stupid answers on Connor's test, I got stuck as your lifeline until I-don't-know-when."
"What?" Danny was still extremely confused.
Dash rolled his eyes. The boy must be thick in the skull.
"I said, because of your stupid answers on that depression test with Connor today, Lancer has me babysitting you until they decide you're not going to kill yourself since I'm part of that stupid support group."
Hearing this, Danny blinked twice and pulled the telephone receiver away from his ear to stare at it.
Dash winced as he heard loud, raucous laughter on the other end of the line.
"Wait, you're on the Peer-To-Peer Support Group?" Danny finally gasped, laughter still apparent in his words.
"Shut up," Dash muttered.
There was a pause as Dash shuffled his foot uncomfortably and Danny, he assumed, recovered from his bout of laughter.
"And if you tell anyone, I'll kill you," he threatened. It was standard procedure for the people he took care of under the program. He couldn't think of anything worse than the whole school finding out that he was on the support group helping those in need of aid.
"You have my silence," Danny said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Why couldn't you have just put 'no' for everything?" Dash grumbled.
"I – I wasn't thinking," Danny admitted to him.
Well, that was unexpected. Dash hadn't thought Fen-turd would tell him something like that in a sincere voice.
"I just wanted to get out of there and go to sleep, and, I don't know, I guess I didn't think it would go over well if I just said no to everything. I said no to all the obvious ones, that should have been enough."
"Well, it wasn't," Dash said, but in a less irritable tone. "I guess if they wanted to nab you as a lunatic there wouldn't have been much you could have done about it."
"Yeah," Danny sounded relieved. Dash scowled.
"Well, Lancer wanted me to tell you that we have to meet him in his office on Monday after class, so if you're late, he'll kill me – and I'll kill you myself."
"I doubt Lancer would want anything to happen to his star quarterback," Danny said bitterly over the phone. Dash couldn't blame him; he knew Lancer played favorites with the jocks. Not that he was complaining or anything.
"Whatever, Fen-turd. Just be there," Dash told him. "If we have to do this, I guess we should do it right."
"And here I thought jocks didn't have dedication towards anything except grunting and slapping each other on the butt with every touchdown," Danny smirked.
"Shut up," Dash groused, and hung up the phone.