A/N: No, I'm not dead. I never was. I said I would update after I reached ten reviews, but i decided that nine was enough, since I had a few people PM with nice comments. I hope this chapter will make up for my month-long absence, as it is the longest chapter I have written so far, as well as the most thought out, edited and carefully planned. There was a reason it took this long for me to update. I will be going to Georgetown next sunday for a week, and i will have computer access but probably not enough to crank out the chapter. I am also going on vacation, so dont expect another upload until the end of July, but please stick around and keep reading, becuase this story is not only dear to my heart, but quite long.

Chasing Phantoms

Part I: Mad World

Chapter Ten: There's Nothing More

1.

"Finally, you're awake."

Daniel blinked groggily, the sterile white room coming into focus. Kim stood at the foot of his hospital bed, leaning gently against the footboard. Glittering early morning sunlight turned her red strands a fiery gold and her eyes lit up the same color.

"I was beginning to think you had fallen unconscious again, how are you feeling?" she finished with a small smile.

"It feels like I've been hit by a truck. What day is it today?" his said quietly, but with immense effort and strain in his voice, as if he had just had the wind knocked from his chest.

"It's just Wednesday. You haven't missed anything important."

He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them again. Kim noticed the slight wince behind the motion – she had underestimated how much pain her agent was in, or perhaps, the medication was just now wearing off. Three stab wounds – she just couldn't imagine the agony Daniel was in. He was stronger than she had thought.

She missed having him at her bullpen – he kept Tucker from bothering her too much, as well as the fact that he reminded her of something – someone maybe. Perhaps, it was just something about him that kept her captivated. He was so young, and already so broken, and yet, he never gave up on anyone. He never gave up on the human race. She guessed that was what he reminded her of: the humanity still left in the human race. It was why she did the job she did – because humanity meant too much for her to waste away in the CIA. It had no soul, no humanity left to her.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and she was just about to open her mouth to say something, but her train of thought was destroyed with the insolent ring of her standard issue cell phone in her pocket.

"Hold on Daniel," she cut him off with a lifted finger.

She picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Agent Possible, I presume you are in New York checking up on our newest charge."

"Yes, Director, I am in New York, at Columbia Hospital's ICU."

"How is Daniel Fenton doing? I know he will pull through, but sometimes when these things happen one cannot be sure what the outcome will be. He alone can guide his fate."

"Er, ok Director you're rambling again…he's fine by the way, he pulled through last night."

"When will it be safe for him to come back home?"

"He should be able to soon"

"Well, Possible I need him home today, as in, now. As long as he isn't in critical condition anymore, then he flies in about fifteen minutes."

"What! No! The…"

"Agent Possible, do not argue with me. I have already sent my personal plane to New York. An ambulance will take him to the hospital. Do not worry; everything is as it should be."

"…ok, ok, as you wish…"

"Also, I would like to inform you that our coroner, Dr. Miller, passed away yesterday evening. It was a heart attack; his autopsy confirmed that it was all those cheeseburgers that did him in, so to speak."

"WHAT! Now how is that for irony…?"

"Well, actually, Kim Possible, that would be considered tragic. The two are often confused by the less-than-all-knowing public."

"ok, tragic, director, not ironic…"

"I am on the lookout for a new coroner. Unfortunately, I do not have all the time in the world, so I have asked Will Du to help me out, he is head of the Homicide Department, after all. Now, now, Kim Possible, do not get all huffy with me, you know everything is as it should be and it be best if you do not meddle too much in these affairs of management. However, if you were to find me a coroner before he does, then I would not mind. For now, I need to finalize the reports and then we can move on."

Kim sighed, shaking the shock and slight jealousy from her mind and focusing on the business at hand.

"Hurry please, we need one just as good as he was…"

"I don't yet have details about the funeral service, but I expect you to be there."

"Yes, I will be there for the service…"

"Good day, Kim Possible."

"Good day Ira."

She snapped her phone shut with finality. Danny had heard only her half of the conversation.

"Time to come home, Daniel."

He sat bolt upright, a ripple of sheer agony crossing his features that faded as he masked the pain in his chest.

"We're leaving today! I'm in no condition to take the plane home and…"

"…And WHAT, Agent Fenton? You will have top notch medical care at Suburban Hospital, and you are flying in one of the Director's planes. What is your issue with coming home today? I thought that you would want to get back right away. You have been away long enough. Your team misses you."

A flicker passed across Kim's eyes, unidentifiable to any but her as a fleeting feeling of sadness.

"How am I supposed to tell Sam that I'm leaving? She only visits after school."

Kim sighed and closed her eyes. She saw this coming the moment she saw that strange girl curled up on the floor in purple nurse's scrubs, asleep, her hair half-wet and plastered to the floor. There had been enough tension between her and Daniel that Kim could have cut through it with a knife. Sam's amethyst eyes betrayed a fire that made Kim fear, momentarily, for her authority.

But Kim could see that at that moment when she had called the girl back, that her fire had gone out. Kim was no psychologist, but she was a damn good cop. She knew Sam wouldn't be the same after what she had seen at the music store, and especially after what she had seen happen to Danny. Kim made a mental note and stashed away to the back of her mind for later use. Right now, she had no time to think about that option. She had a job to do.

"Attached, Daniel? Have you gotten attached? I can't help you there. We leave now. I'm going to talk to the head nurse; we will take you in an ambulance to the airport. See you again in five minutes."

He sat alone in his overly sterile room, watching the fiery haired woman stride down the hallway, her movements quick, fluid, and powerful. She reminded him of a panther. He had only been doing his job, and now look what condition he was in. At least, he thought, the woman had pulled through and was safe. She was alive because of him. His mind flashed back to his first moments waking up. The look on Sam's face had killed him over again – like he had betrayed her.

She had been the only person willing to strike up a conversation with an out of place used book shop owner, especially in a neighborhood that had been getting lots of deaths recently. She was either the bravest civilian he had ever met, or she was nuts. Really, really nuts. He hoped it was the former.

He sighed heavily, but immediately regretted the action as another wave of pain shuddered through him. His chest ached with every breath. God, he had really let so many people down already…now Sam was going to hate him forever. He would just leave her without saying goodbye. God, he had messed up.

Why was he so absent minded? Always forgetting things…that's what always got him into trouble. His morphine clogged brain never thought to simply ask Tucker to look up her number or ask Kim for it. As an FBI agent, she was sure to have gotten contact information from Sam, but of course, the thought never came to his mind as he was naturally absent-minded and not always clearly practical or logical.

A pretty nurse opened the sliding door. He would have usually smiled, but the pain in his chest was burning a hole in his heart. At this point the physical pain blurred over with the blame, the regret, the anguish welded into his memory so vividly. She checked his pulse, and gently felt his forehead. He couldn't really tell what she looked like. He guessed that some more people walked into his room – he couldn't really be sure. At this point his vision was going black and fuzzy around the edges. He welcomed it; a release from the pain was all he wanted at this point.

2.

"Hey, Daniel, I came as quickly as I could…"

She stopped when she saw the bed occupied by an elderly man, a ventilator buzzing as it pumped air through tubes into his lungs, his chest rising and falling with effort that was not his own. Whirling around to find the nearest nurse, Sam quickly grabbed the hand of a passing doctor – one she recognized to have been Daniel's by his scruffy white stubble, his tall, impressive presence and strait, regal nose.

"Where did Daniel go?"

"Miss, if you have a question about a patient, please go the receptionist, she will take your question…"

"No! I can't wait forever while some bimbo that became a secretary because she couldn't get into college punches stuff into the computer with her fake pink talons and chats with coworkers! You're his doctor! Daniel Fenton? Does that ring a bell?"

"Miss, calm down please, you're making a scene."

"DAMN RIGHT I'M MAKI-"

He cut her off with an angry, "For the sake of these patients, Miss, BE QUIET."

Sam was shocked into silence. She was used to pushing people around to get what she wanted, and this was a bit new to her.

"Daniel Fenton was transferred this morning to a hospital near Washington D.C. I wish I knew any more than that, but I'm afraid there's nothing more of this I can tell you. Now please, I have rounds to do, I'm sincerely sorry I cannot be of more help."

He leaned in closer for a second and whispered to her, "And please don't harass the receptionists. Their high school diplomas didn't train them to handle people like you."

With a serene, unflappable smile on his aging face he turned back the direction he was heading and waltzed down the hallway. A flutter of emotions passed across Sam's face, one by one, but so quickly that if one were to be watching her, it was a whisper of a thought that flashed in her eyes.

He left? He left just like that, without telling her anything, without leaving a note, without a forwarding address? Maybe he just thought she wasn't worth keeping in touch with. After all, they had just met less than a week ago. Despite all that, everything had seemed so natural, as if they had supposed to meet by some cosmic fate. She brushed off the thought. Thoughts like that were for cheesy, desperate girls who had no control over their lives. Destiny was for the unmotivated.

If Daniel didn't want her in his life, she wouldn't try to find him. It had been nice while it lasted, but it made sense that he would use this as a clean break from her. This way, there were no awkward exchanges of messages; there was no worry about whether they would stay in touch or not. It was easier this way. She walked out of the hospital for the last time, opening her bat umbrella to block the unwelcome March sunshine.

3.

Daniel came to just as he felt the jolt of the plane hitting the runway. He was dazed and groggy, strapped down to a stretcher a bit too tightly for comfort. The person sitting next to him looked vaguely like Kim, but he couldn't really tell because her hair was turning orange and then red, then to purple and back to red. It confused him almost as much as math had confused him in high school. He tried to sit up and figure out where he was because it kind of felt like the ground was moving, but just as he did, a flash of agonizing pain ripped through his body as his chest tightened against the restraints, his delicate ribs splintering in the same places they had been set the day before..

Before he fainted again, he vaguely heard Kim's voice say, "Daniel, you're an idiot."

Maybe he was…he didn't really know.

4.

Where the heck was he? His first complete thought when waking up again was that this room was kind of bright. He squinted and blinked, tying to remove the foggy layer from his vision. His black lashes lifted and his stark blue eyes cleared enough to bring the room into focus. Sunlight was pouring into the room from a large window. He could vaguely make out the National Institutes of Health building across Old Georgetown Road. Bethesda: He was in Suburban Hospital. He was home – well, sort of, Home was technically ten to fifteen minutes north of where he was, in a tiny old apartment behind a Safeway and across the street from the railroad, but Bethesda was close enough.

Someone shifted in a chair to the right of his bed. Daniel turned his head away from the window and caught the light teal eyes of his current partner.

"You look like crap."

"Thanks Tucker."

Daniel had to admit that he probably didn't look so great. A large greenish-purple bruise marred his left cheekbone; the right side of his face was ravaged with four long, red, raw claw marks that were barely covered by a couple band-aids to keep the wounds clean; gauze stiff with blood criss-crossed his chest and back; his right arm was bandaged from the lower bicep to his shoulder. He shifted that arm uncomfortably. The bandage was a bit too tight, and his veins were raised all along the lower portion of his arm

"How's everyone doing?" Daniel asked quietly.

"Fine. Everyone is bored to death though. Our team has had no new cases, so we've been helping out some other ongoing murder investigations. I've beaten the high score in online Tetris four times in the past week. Valerie's working on a personal project, and Kim hasn't slept in four days – first because you were in critical condition, and now because she's trying to find a new coroner."

"Well, Kim's always the one to pick up the slack in the department."

"I know, she finished all of Agent Flagg's paperwork the month after you left, and that's a seven year old stack there," added Tucker.

"Wait, Tucker, you said she is looking for a new coroner? What's wrong with Dr. Miller? He's always been our medical examiner."

Daniel looked a little confused and a little panicked at the same time. Dr. Miller was old enough to have done autopsies on dinosaurs, that, and he ate a cheeseburger everyday for lunch, which was enough to make Daniel fear the worst – that Dr. Miller hadn't stopped working of his own free will. After a moment Tucker shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Dr. Miller died of a heart attack Wednesday morning, a few hours before the Director had Kim pick you up from the hospital. She always said that his burger-a-day ritual would eventually bite him in the ass. I'm sorry, Daniel, that it's me telling you this and not Kim."

Danny closed his eyes, trying to process another death. It always took him longer to really understand the gravity of what happened when he even remotely knew the person who had died. His mind flashed far back to a memory he had tried so hard to fade from his mind.

'I'm sorry, Daniel that it's me telling you this, and not your parents. They were experts, after all."

"No, they'll come back, sir. They'll come back. Like you, said, they're experts. This is all just…a mistake! Just a big mistake."

He looked past the glass of the waiting area of the crime lab, not seeing the government official next to him trying desperately to comfort the boy, who was clearly in denial. Danny watched a forensic scientist carry boxes of evidence past him and into their little labs for testing – stuff that they shouldn't have taken from his home.

The officer, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit, Green Bay Packer's logos as cufflinks, his sleek silver hair tied into a long ponytail, left wordlessly. The boy would come out of shock eventually. There was no way the most notorious bio-terrorist cell in the world would just kidnap the two leading experts on their organization. People who knew that much had to be dead, after all, the blood that they had found all over the house suggested a struggle – and not an easy one. But, the boy wasn't going to admit anytime soon that his parents could have lost that fight.

Danny heard the clicking of heels stop in front of him where he was sitting, head in his hands.

"Danny…"

"What do you want Jazz?" he snapped at her as he lifted his head to meet her gaze.

She looked sad and quiet. She thought they were dead, just like all the cops assigned to their case. Taking off her white doctor's coat, she sat down next to him on the old bench and pulled his head to her chest. He offered no protest, instead hugging his sister close, not caring that her long red hair tickled his face. Her chest shook silently and she held her little brother closer. Danny closed his eyes and held on to her, trying to avoid the flashes of memory.

It was supposed to have been a celebration – he had just finished his aerospace engineering program at Georgetown University and was coming home to Amity Park. Jazz was driving in from nearby Chicago where she was in her third year of medical school. The family was going to be together again, just like they had been when Danny and Jazz were still in high school.

Neither of the Fenton children really understood what their parents did for a living. Sure, they had contracts with the CIA to make weapons and design new technology, but only until the day they had walked into their home to find it torn apart, the basement lab splattered in blood, half of their parents technology missing, and both Maddie and Jack Fenton nowhere to be found did Danny and Jazz realize that what their parents had been doing was serious. They weren't the nut jobs that most of the town, and occasionally, their children, believed them to be. They were orphans now.

Danny shook himself out of his daze to find Tucker standing next to him, gripping his good shoulder.

"Dude, are you ok? You totally spaced out there, man, muttering things and everything."

"Don't call me Daniel."

"What?"

"Danny. Call me Danny or Dan if you want. Daniel sounds so stuffy."

"Er…Ok, Danny…"

Tucker was a little confused by Danny's behavior. His little space cadet act a few seconds ago had almost had him calling for a nurse. Before he had any chance to question Danny's peculiar behavior, Tucker's phone went off.

"Hey Kim…yes, I'm at the hospital…no, no, nothing's wrong, Danny's fine…yes, I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone with a snap.

"Sorry, man I wish I could stay and fill you in, but Kim apparently has a lead she wants me to follow."

"Go ahead. This country needs you," Danny finished with a joking smile.

Danny watched Tucker walk away, but his lids closed without any prompting. He was just…so…tired.

5.

"Danny! Danny, there you are! Oh my God, you've gotten so tall!"

"Jazz! I'm twenty-two, I haven't grown since you saw me last Christmas!"

The red-haired woman embraced him tightly, as if it had been ages since she had seen him, and not four months since she had seen him. She squeezed him so tightly; he dropped the suitcase in his hand, which caused many fellow weary travelers to look his way. Promptly turning a shade of fuchsia at the attention, Danny desperately pulled at Jazz, gasping for air.

"Too…much…love… Gross! Geroff me Jazz!"

She finally pulled away, but not before planting a few red lipstick marks on his cheek which he hastily wiped away, turning bright red.

"Come, on Danny, you know I love you! Jesus Christ, it's sweltering, let's get your bags and get out of this airport!"

"Every time I spend a few months away, you end up peppier than ever. Don't you think that eventually, you'll just run out of steam?"

"Never!" she added with zeal as she daintily made her way to her car in the parking lot, a slightly embarrased, but obviously happy Danny Fenton behind her.

"Jazz! I'm not getting in this chick car with you!"

Her turquoise Volkswagen Beetle stood in front of him and he groaned, ashamed to be seen in such a girly car. At twenty-four, his sister still found ways to embarrass him in front of the whole world. He looked around for another car that could be Jazz's, but when he saw the bumper stickers on the back, he knew there was just no escape. I mean, who else would have 'Forever Jung,' 'Sometimes a cigar, is just a cigar,' and 'Have you hugged your inner child today?' as bumper stickers?

"You want to walk all the way to Amity Park from Chicago? Unless you've got a super high-tech space jetpack in that suitcase," she said gesturing to his tiny carry-on, "I wouldn't count on you making it home in time for dinner."

"Ugh, fine, but if you try and psycho-analyze me in the car, I will key your little bug and slash the tires."

"Oh, Danny, quit complaining and put your suitcase in the backseat."

She got in the front seat as Danny scrambled to get his suitcase into the backseat through the little space the folding passenger seat allowed.

"Oof! Jazz, did you have to buy a two-door car?"

He finally managed to stuff his suitcase into the car, and he unfolded the passenger seat to make room for himself. As he closed the passenger side door, Jazz started the engine and rolled down the convertible top.

For an hour they drove down the expressway towards Amity Park. For an hour, things were just as they had been when Danny and Jazz were both in high school, when she would drive him to school, when she nagged him incessantly, and when he could just talk to her about everything. He had almost forgotten how much he actually loved her, being away from his family for so long. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed his parents deeply. Hearing his mother's and father's voice the day before had him just yearning to see their faces – he hadn't seen them in months and the few pictures he had weren't enough.

Jazz pulled into their driveway at their old, slightly eccentric townhome in the city that most certainly would have violated building codes in any other place. Yep, it was their house all right – the giant sign saying "Fenton Works" kind of gave it away, making it unmistakably theirs.

"Come on Danny, hurry up and get your bag! Mom and Dad are expecting us!"

"Coming Jazz! Geez, it's not they're going to vanish in the three extra seconds it takes me to get my bag!"

Jazz unlocked the front door and swung it open, announcing, "Mom, Dad, Danny and I are home!"

Danny stood behind her on the front stoop, holding his suitcase. As she swung the door open and they walked inside, Danny immediately noticed that something was clearly wrong. His house had been completely trashed. Jazz stopped in her tracks when she noticed the disorder, while Danny kept walking further into the house after setting his suitcase down. He crouched slightly, poised for attack if someone were to appear. Jazz walked carefully behind him, apprehensive and fearful.

"Mom, Dad, where are you guys?" Danny called from the main hallway leading into the kitchen.

The mess got significantly worse when they got to the kitchen –the cabinets had been torn from the walls, the refrigerator was on end, and his father's expired ham was nowhere to be found. They creeped silently down the hallway towards the basement. Jazz stopped suddenly behind Danny and let in a sharp intake of breath. Noticing her cessation of movement, Danny turned around and found what she was staring at. His heart fell to his stomach when he saw what she was looking at, and the expression on Jazz's face was not much different from what Danny was feeling.

The wall that usually held their family photos was smeared in blood. Their most recent photo taken as a family – the family at Thanksgiving dinner two years ago – was missing from its frame, the glass shattered and stained with little rivers of blood.

"Come on Danny, maybe it was just a freaky lab thing, let's keep going…"

She grabbed her brother's hand and led the way to the laboratory in their parents' basement, her heart feeling more and more dread at every blood stain she avoided slipping on. At the foot of the stairs both she and Danny stood sill and unmoving, taking in the wreckage before them. The lab was completely destroyed. Beakers, computers, half-finished weapons lay scattered around the space, broken in the struggle that both children assumed took place.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" Danny asked, breaking the silence.

His eyes caught two strips of fabric stuck on one of his parents' latest unfinished experiments. One was vaguely blue, the other vaguely orange. Both fabrics were distinctly from his parents' usual HAZMAT suits, but they were stained with blood, and the pool of blood spatter that originated near the shreds of fabric dominated the wreckage in the lab. His stomach churned and he wretched into the nearest trashcan as Jazz caught what he had discovered and froze, her breath coming sharp and fast, her head spinning. Danny shook violently and slithered down to the floor, slipping in a pool of blood.

This couldn't be happening. Not to their parents.

6.

"Hey Kim, what's the lead you wanted me to follow?"

Kim sat at Danny's long-unused desk, scribbling information on a notepad, since there was no more space on the white board for notes. She had purple bruises underneath her eyes from the past few days, but Tucker noticed that they were less prominent than they had been yesterday. So she had gotten some sleep after all, he thought to himself as he rounded the corner and entered the bullpen.

Her hair was sleek and combed back in to a perfect ponytail as usual, and her face looked fresher than it had in days. The stress of Danny's condition was gnawing at her, as well as her frantic search for a new coroner. He didn't really understand why it was that she had to find a new coroner, after all, wasn't that the job of Agent Will Du? He was head of the Homicide Department, after all… It probably had something to do with the fact that Kim was always just trying to out-do him.

He laughed to himself, "Haha, out-Du him!"

Danny would have laughed, but Kim gave him a disapproving glare at his slightly lame sense of humor. He walked up to Danny's desk, wondering what it was that she had found after a five-month stalemate on the case; as well as wondering why it was that she was sitting at Danny's desk, and not her own. Her desk was just as convenient, right?

"Look this Tucker," she said, pointing down to the notes she had just made on her notepad, "Elijah Brown, valedictorian at Columbia Law, Roger Elliot, top of his class at architecture school and already had a contract with some of the world's richest people and institutions, John White, growing steadily in fame and recognition as the CEO of a tutoring company. Look at what this killer is doing, what do you think it is?"

Tucker looked blank. Danny was good at the whole connecting the dots and making conclusions business, not Tucker.

"Umm…collecting?" he said, vaguely guessing. Kim gave him a weird look.

"What? I was thinking about when I collect tech, I never buy the same model twice, and I always get the best I can afford on this government salary…I was actually kind of guessing…" he whined defensively.

"He is indeed collecting," Kim said pensively, "We didn't see it at first, but each body was missing something that the deceased found personal, important, and indispensible. White, our first victim, was missing his notepad – his friends, family, coworkers, all say that he never went anywhere without it. We couldn't find Elliot's sketchbook or Brown's Columbia Law School cufflinks. He's collecting. He's hunting. Everyone he kills is a prize."

"Wait…I was right?"

"Yes, Tucker," she said exasperatedly, "You were right. I'm a surprised as you are."

"HEY!"

She got up from Danny's desk, ignoring Tucker's indignation, and strode over to her own.

"Go over all the evidence again, Tucker, see if we missed something, and after that, call me."

She picked up her sidearm from her keyboard tray underneath the desk surface and checked it for bullets, cocking it once. It was quickly stashed away in the small of her back, and her black shirt concealed it.

"Where are you going?" Tucker asked, apprehensively eyeing her concealed weapon, knowing she was carrying at least two more.

"I am going to talk to the Director about our coroner issue. You, on the other hand, should visit Wade Load four floors down and look over evidence with him. You two are both geniuses, you should be able to find something new."

Tucker picked up the stack of files from his desk pertaining to the case and walked out of the department to the elevator down the hall, while Kim waited for the next one going up. Kim got off the last floor, a thin file in her hand. She walked into the Director's office without knocking, unannounced.

"Hello Kim Possible, good day so far I presume? I would have you brace yourself; precious things come at a price."

Kim frowned and furrowed her brow. The Director was always saying things, as if he knew what was going to happen long before she did. She met his reddish-brown eyes with her emerald ones as he spun around serenely in his chair to face her.

"Watching the street again, Ira?" Kim asked gently.

"What can I say? I love watching the street from above…it's like being able to see everything at once, the beginning, middle, and end. Most people only get to watch from the sidewalk," said the serene, only slightly aging man.

Kim only knew that Ira Chronus had been the Director of the FBI for forty years already, and before that, an agent. No one really knew his age, but to everyone he looked not a day older than fifty. His hair was steely silver and short, the only blemish she could see in his appearance was a scar running down his left cheek, but even that was not that prominent.

"You have a file for me? I see you have found a suitable coroner to take Dr. Miller's place."

She handed him the file, always a little off-put by his demeanor, the silky smooth voice, and his fiery eyes.

"Thank you, Kim Possible," he said as he began to flip through the file, "I think you have made a good choice, but I always had faith that you would."

Chills ran down her back whenever he spoke like that, and now was no different. Kim waited to be dismissed or addressed again.

"Agent Possible, I would like for you to check in on young Daniel Fenton at the hospital. He re-broke his ribs on my plane and was out for a week. Who knows what condition he is in now?"

"Yes, Ira."

"Careful, child. I don't want you getting overly emotional over this boy. He still has much to learn, as do you."

"Good day, Director," said Kim as she walked out of his office, strangely cluttered with old clocks wherever there wasn't a window.

She headed down to the ground floor where her black SUV was parked and hopped in. Turning the key in the ignition, she pulled out of the parking lot and drove up to Bethesda, far past the FBI building, past Washington D.C., and past the beltway, to get to Suburban Hospital.

He lay in his bed asleep, a heart monitor beeping so slowly that it was as if his heart were not even beating. His chest rose and fell at the same rate, his eyelids never flickering from his tranquil night. Kim pressed her forehead to the glass, worried. He had looked better the last time she had visited – he may have been asleep then too, but this time…this time was different. This time it seemed like he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. She heard the delicate footsteps of a woman behind her and she turned around to face her.

"You better come with me to the waiting area, where you can sit down," the tall, willowy brunette said, pulling back wisps of gray hair back into a ponytail.

"What's wrong with him, Dr. Lira?" Kim adamantly asked the middle aged woman assigned to take care of Danny as he recovered at Suburban Hospital as she sat down gently in the waiting room chair, shaking from anxiety.

"I don't know for sure. I think it could be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I think he just needs rest. He was obviously distressed during his sleep, but as we tried to wake him up because we believed it was a night terror, but he just…wouldn't. He was obviously unconscious after that ordeal passed, but then about an hour later he slipped into a coma."

Kim sat down on the waiting room bench. She was exhausted, battered, and she didn't think her heart could take any more strain. The tremor of fear she had felt when Cecilia had first called had slowly gnawed its way into full fledged fear as she recounted what had happened. Her terror had become real, agonizing, as she had watched him struggle for his life – those precious hours he had spent walking the line between dead or alive. And now, he was back there again, just when she had thought it was all over, just when she had thought she could sleep soundly and have him back as an agent within just weeks. But her hope had died and all peace in her soul had fled with his consciousness, leaving her alone again.

"Is he…in a coma?"

"Yes. It seems as if some internal stressor pushed him to the point where he had to shut down his connection to his physical body. There's no telling how long it's going to take for him to wake up, if ever."

"He will wake up. The question is when."

7.

Sam sat on her black, satin covered bed cross-legged. Papers surrounded her from all sides, turning her bed an unpleasant shade of white. Her head was in her hands and she pulled gently at her short black hair. The papers were notes and rough drafts of her graduate thesis. It was the end of May, and she would get her doctorate in psychology in about a week, that is, if she ever finished her god-forsaken thesis. Technically, it was finished. She could get it bound and just plop it on Lancer's desk and get the placard she had slaved for for the past three years.

Unfortunately, there was something missing, something off about her thesis. It wasn't that her observation was incorrect. She still believed that personality and motivation were intertwined, that they were shaped by cognitive realizations or upheavals. She still believed that how we respond to tragedy in our lives determines the strength of our spirits and how motivated we are. It was just that Daniel was bothering her. It was the fact that she never got a really clear read on his personality, his motivation, and since he was the only person she was even remotely close to, it bothered her that there was no way she could include him in her thesis; that she couldn't grasp. Unfortunately, she didn't realize that it was never her thesis that was off, but her perception.

"The Human Spirit as Determined by How We Respond to Great Upheaval"

Sam sighed and picked up her last draft of her hundred page thesis and slipped it into a manila envelope. She sealed it and placed it in her bag. Tomorrow morning, she would give it to Lancer first thing.

Lilith croaked angrily from her tank.

"Sorry for not feeding you on time, miss prissy pants."

Removing her frog's food from a cabinet under the table that held the tank, she fed her slightly irritated pet. She gazed at the small green creature lovingly as it ate. There was not a single regret in her mind when she looked back at how she actually got her frog – she would have long been at the bottom of a medical disposal bin in one of her university's basic biology labs if not for Sam.

There was nothing else for her to do now. Sam shoved the papers off of her bed and left her room to fix herself a cup of coffee. The mug brewed slowly, and to pass the time, she turned on the recycled-plastic television she had bought three years ago with her parents' trust fund money. Flipping idly through the channels, she stopped at a news channel at the sound of coffee maker finishing its brew. She took her black mug with violet spider decorations from under the drip of the coffee maker and turned around to see what was on the news. At what she saw, she let her mug fall to the floor and the boiling coffee spilled all over the black tile of her kitchen, scalding Sam's feet. The mug shattered upon impact, far beyond repair.

...to be continued...

A/N: REVIEW. They encourage me to write better, longer chapters. I cannot guarantee an update before July 25th, becuase I have other things that i will be doing, but I would like about 5 more reviews in that period.

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Are the characters making sense? or are they too OOC?

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This is the first story i posted, and ive been getting good readership, but a measly number of reviews. I really, really, just want to know what you think. If you liked it, all I need is a few encouraging words and maybe some questions. I will ask kindly, if you have favorited or put this story on alert, please make a point to review at least once.

The people who have reviewed or PMed me have given me some reaallllyy good ideas, especially Quantos Prime - There are some bits in chapter six that were created with your help, as well as a huge chunk of this chapter. Your help has been priceless.

Anyways, thank you. You all, and my love of Danny Phantom, encourage me to keep writing =]