The Soul Sepulchre Chapter 19: Meating of the Minds, a danny phantom fanfic

Hiya!

Hehe, a few days ago I was in the car and we passed this store called 'Tucker Electronics'. Coincidence? Or was it...? XD

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom and all related characters are the property of Butch Hartman.

Enjoy!

I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I

The Soul Sepulcher

-By Sholay

I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I

Chapter 19 — Meating of the Minds

Flying always had a cathartic effect on Danny.

Even now, as he flew determinedly toward what was almost certainly one of the most half-cocked, stupidest plans he'd ever come up with, the rush of air and weightlessness seemed to lift his spirits as high as they lifted his body.

After the smouldering train-wreak that had been his conversation with Valerie, Danny had somehow managed to regroup and shove all that messy confusion aside. A flash of blue light turned him into his ghost form, then he'd swept out of FentonWorks and flown to Vlad's mansion in record time. Now familiar with the elder halfa's underground lab, Danny hadn't even hesitated before sinking through the floor and arcing over to the man's Ghost Portal, inputting the password while trying his best to ignore the hologram of his mother that was offering to cook him butterscotch caramel apple-doodles.

It was the third time Danny had managed to pass through Vlad's house with the elder none the wiser. But the teen hadn't even paused to consider that rather peculiar coincidence. Nor had he even taken enough time to grab any of the weapons he'd so carefully laid out on his parent's table. Without even a Fenton Thermos on his person, Danny was now soaring through the swirling green miasma of the Ghost Zone in an attempt to track down one of his innumerable enemies.

And yet, none of these thoughts were foremost in Danny's mind.

Instead, he was still mulling over his argument with Valerie.

He had no idea what had made him loose control with her: one minute he'd been perfectly happy letting Valerie rant out her disappointment and anger, the next he was tearing her head off like a rabid hyena.

He hadn't even mustered that much anger when he'd faced Dan.

Danny shuddered, trying not to dwell that particular thought.

For a moment, he'd truly hated Valerie. Despised. Abhorred… A feeling so dark he couldn't even name it had possessed him. And for what? Because she'd called him a coward? Because she, in her ignorance, had done the equivalent of calling him incompetent?

'She deserved what she got for insulting your pride.'

Danny shook off the weird thought. No, that was wrong. Getting that angry over a few words was senseless, nasty behaviour. Now, if Valerie had been attacking say, Jazz or Sam, then Danny would probably have had reason to get angry. But Valerie had not meant for her words to wound. She'd been trying to prove a point, speaking out of concern for him. Her disbelief and frustration with him had twisted her words into phrases she did not truly mean.

'Anger loosens the tongue. Excusing one's words to the heat of passion is a convenient lie created to sooth the weak-minded.'

Well, in all fairness, he really had run from every ghost fight he'd ever been present for in his human form. Sure, he returned once he'd turned ghost, but no one else knew that. They probably all thought he was some sort of weakling or chicken.

This thought, a frequent one for Danny, didn't usually bother him. Meekness and anonymity were his most useful weapons against the striking similarities between his human and ghost halves. But today it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

'People see me, Danny Fenton, as some sort of wimp… A loser.' The teen's gloved hands clenched into fists; he really disliked that word.

Fortunately, Danny was coming upon his destination, so he banished his uncomfortable musings to the back of his mind.

Walker's prison loomed ahead as bleak and ominous as always. Danny floated closer, hands held cautiously before him, fully expecting baring alarms and half a dozen prison guards to bear down on him any second. When nothing but silence filled his ears, the halfa frowned. Puffing out a breath of air, he swooped upward, determinedly rising above the walls of thick grey concrete and spirals of electrical wire until he could survey the entire compound from a bird's eye view.

The watchtowers were lit but devoid of guards. Searchlights shone foreboding panels of yellow light into the surrounding area but were immobile. At the end of his patience and almost eager to incite a response, any response—even a violent one—Danny allowed himself to drift directly into the path of a searchlight. The thing blinded him and he had to shield his eyes against the intense glow, but though he hung there for a good half minute, no alarms rang out from the prison. No guards came to arrest him.

Yesterday, the teen had avoided searching the prison, knowing that even if he had found Walker, the jailor would have been no more willing to help the halfa than Danny would have been willing to put his own neck on the chopping block and hand Walker an axe. But now, after having found even Frostbite's frozen city abandoned, Danny found himself too desperate to care. He would not allow Sam and Tucker to remain another day in Legion's hands. Clockwork's words had been a reassurance; but who knew how long Legion would remain benign?

Danny moved closer to the prison, near enough to peer into the barren courtyard.

'The place looks dead.' Not even in his own mind could Danny muster any humour at his half-hearted pun.

'Legion is so threatening that even Walker's abandoned his post.' That was a disconcerting thought.

Unwilling to admit that he'd come all this way for nothing, Danny dropped downward, entering the prison's courtyard. If he came across any trouble he could always just turn human and phase through the floors, he reminded himself. Humans were as much ghosts in the Ghost Zone as ghosts were in the human world. And he was pretty sure Walker hadn't found a way to counter that particular advantage of his yet. Emboldened, the snowy-haired teen floated over to a towering wall and phased through a set of double doors set in the concrete.

From the long line of barred cells that lined both sides of the narrow hall, Danny knew he'd found the prisoner's block. Pressing his lips together and furrowing his eyebrows, his more human nature took over as he dropped to the ground and began to walk the corridors.

After what felt like an age of meandering, Danny began to truly appreciate how ridiculously huge Walker's prison was. The sheer number of iron-barred prison rooms was staggering. It was a honeycomb of halls and passages all filled with cell after cell after cell, every one of them empty of inhabitants.

'Does Walker intend to imprison the entire Ghost Zone here?' He wondered as he gazed into the dark depths of what must have been the hundredth cell he'd seen. Each room was about the size of a broom cupboard, maybe a few feet wider. The floor was made from dusty, naked concrete, as were the walls. Furnishing the area was a flat, sheetless military bed, all coloured the same depressing shade of grey as everything else.

Looking away from the dingy room, Danny continued down the corridor, eventually arriving at set of stairs roughly hewn into the walls. Climbing to the top, he was met with another floor of countless turns and pathways leading to innumerable cells. The narrow walls and low ceiling were beginning to have a claustrophobic effect on the halfa, who squared his shoulders and stared around himself nervously.

Quite suddenly, as he turned into a darker hallway of barred doors, Danny gasped loudly. With a chilled shudder, he saw blue smoke curling from his mouth. He'd never been so happy to see his ghost sense in his life.

'It's nice to know what I'm up against.' He thought, grimly remembering how his sense had failed against the Hound.

Hurrying forward, Danny's sensitive ears picked up a quiet sobbing and he headed toward the sound. Turning another bend, he arrived at a single cell tucked away in a lightless corner. The crying was loudest here and seeming to be coming from inside the barred quarters.

With an idle flourish of his wrist, a ball of green energy formed over his raised palm. Warily, Danny put his free hand on the rusty metal door and was surprised when it swung open without resistance under his fingertips. Old, disused hinges screeched noisily and the teen winced at the sound

"Hello?" He called uncertainly, poking his head into the shadowy cell. "Is someone there?"

He received no answer save a breathless hiccough as whoever-it-was tried to stifle their cries.

"Look…" Danny licked his lips, trying to find the best words to use. "I'm not gonna fight you." Well this was mostly true. He didn't want to fight; but he clearly remembered Clockwork's words: 'Put a ghost to rest', the elder ghost had said. What exactly did that mean? Would the ghost fight it? Danny didn't know.

"Please," He beseeched. "I just need your help."

Stepping fully into the cell, Danny brought his ghostly lantern with him and let it bathe the room in an eerie green glow. The wavering light fell on a lone dilapidated bed and he stopped, eyes widening as he spotted a trembling figure seated there.

Though the figure's back was to him, its faint glow betrayed it to be a ghost. A large back heaved with suppressed sobs and Danny drew in a breath as he recognized the ghost's dress and profile.

"…Lunch Lady?" He said awkwardly. Having never referred to her except in third person to his friends, it felt very odd to call the ghost 'The Lunch Lady' now. But, not knowing what else to call the woman, he had little choice.

The ample-sized, round-faced ghost raised her head out of her hands and stared at Danny with such a broken look that he staggered backward. Rivulets of tears ran down her green tinged cheeks and Danny stared at her pained eyes with trepidation, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that he'd never seen a ghost cry before.

"H-hi…" Danny hated seeing anyone sad, and his subconscious instinct to sooth rose up before he could insert logic into the situation. "Hey… uhm… Are you all right? Why are you still here; why didn't you run away like all the other ghosts?"

The Lunch Lady sent Danny an unfathomable look, her dark green eyes staring right through him. Then she turned her head forward, letting out a small, mirthless laugh.

"The others have sought refuge in the Deep. I cannot go. I cannot…" Danny was about to ask her why she couldn't go when her eyes came up once more to look at him. "Little ghost child, why are you still here? Do you not fear the Demon?"

Danny didn't respond right away and a beat of silence passed between them.

"Oh! Goodness! What am I doing?" With an inexplicable twist of personality, the Lunch Lady heaved herself to her feet, fixed her hairnet and apron before turning to Danny. The halfa blinked, seeing not a trace of the woman's former anguish in her now gleaming eyes.

"Deary me," The ghost said jovially. "Would you like a cookie?" And from thin air she conjured up a plate of lumpy chocolate chip cookies.

Very slowly, and still trying to make sense of what had just happened, Danny shook his head.

Immediately, the Lunch Lady's eyes flamed, changing in an instant from a friendly green to the colour of wet blood.

"THEN FACE YOUR DOOM!"

The halfa had to duck as the plate of cookies came spinning at his head. Even still, the sharp edge sheared off a tuft of white hair before lodging into the brick wall with a loud crack.

"Hey, I know they say good cookies are to die for," Straightening, Danny gaped at the platter, which was still ringing from its impact with the wall. "But this is a bit extreme, isn't it?"

Then the Lunch Lady came flying at him and Danny dropped all idle banter to focus on the battle.

It was almost pathetically easy. With only a few well-placed shots and a little scuffling, the Lunch Lady went flying out of the cell and across the hallway. She hit the wall hard enough to make a portion of it crumble then collapsed to the ground in a heap. Dust and shards of concrete settled around her downed form.

Danny found himself actually squelching feelings of pity as he landed next to her and knelt down.

"Hey, listen, I really don't want to fight you." He said softly as he offered her a hand to get up. "Just…tell me why you're here. All the ghosts, they're running because they're scared of Legion, right? Then why are you still here? Why haven't you gone?"

The woman lay limply against the ground, ignoring Danny's hand as she blinked her now clear green eyes.

"I cannot…" She mumbled.

"Tell me why." Danny insisted.

Finally, the ghost seemed to actually understand the meaning of his words and, perhaps sensing the sincerity in them, looked up at the teen in shock.

Danny just smiled, offered her again his hand. This time, she hesitantly pulled up a hand and grasped his, allowing the teen to pull her into a sitting position against the wall.

"I had a daughter once…" She began suddenly, before stopping, looking unsure of whether to continue.

"Yeah? Tell me. How old was she?" Danny encouraged, plopping down next to her. The whole situation was a little surreal for him, but he decided to just go with it and not think too much.

"I had a daughter. She was… She was just about your age." And when the Lunch Lady's eyes snapped up to his he found he couldn't look away.

A bright flash of white filled his vision.

I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I

I had a daughter. She was just fourteen. Just starting high school, she was so worried, so scared she wouldn't fit in…

Danny gazed around himself. He was standing in a void of white light. The Lunch Lady's voice was disembodied, and seemed to echo in his mind more so than his ears.

Then, out of the light, vague outlines began to form and Danny focused on them, squinting his eyes.

The first was that of a young teenaged girl. Her long dirty blond hair was swept up into a neat French braid and she smiled merrily at something next to her. Her outfit was a non-descript uniform, yet Danny somehow knew the date was somewhere in the 1950s. Then, around the girl, Danny started to recognize the familiar surroundings of the Casper High cafeteria materializing. As he kept watching, more kids appeared around him, but his eyes remained glued to the little girl with the braid. She looked very young—almost frail. If Danny hadn't known without doubt that he was standing in his high school cafeteria, he would have thought she belonged a few years under him.

She was a good girl, my Abigail. Always kind, always willing to help others, she had a big heart.

The emotion Danny felt swelling in his heart could only have been described as a parent's pride. But, while he normally should have associated the feeling with paternity, there was something distinctly maternal about the way he was seeing the little girl, Abigail.

But she was a sickly child.

And the vision before Danny's eyes altered suddenly. Before him, he could see now the white washed walls of a hospital. There was a bed, and around it the curtains were drawn tightly. The stiff plastic material could not keep out the sounds of wretched coughing, however; and he felt his heart tighten with pain. Helplessness.

God granted us the fruits of our prayers only half-heartedly, for we'd been given a beautiful baby girl, but she was prone to illness. And she had many sever allergies.

The knowledge came to Danny slowly, like water being drawn up into a sponge. The scene before him shifted back to the high school cafeteria and he saw how the Lunch Lady would carefully portion her daughter's food. Wheat and fruits were kept away—Abigail had a deadly allergy to strawberries, most nuts and kiwis—milk and dairy products were not allowed to touch her daughter's tray. An assortment of pills was present with almost every meal. Some of the only foods Abigail was allowed to have were meat and a very specific type of cookie that the Lunch Lady would personally bake.

She was a good child, but very curious. She wondered why she couldn't eat like the other children. I told her the food would make her very sick. But I never told her how bad it could be…

Danny could see the girl sitting with her friends, laughing and talking like a normal teen.

I wanted to spare her the fear. Why put such strain on here when I could take care of everything for her?

Then, one day, I sick with the flu. Lunch ladies are not allowed to serve food to children if they're sick. I had to stay home.

Danny could feel the cold dread rising within him. He knew what was going to happen, could feel it. The school board had changed the menu, introduced more healthy alternatives instead of the regular choices. Abigail walked up to the counter and seemed to look around in confusion, recognizing none of her regular choices. On the urging of her friends' though, she just took what was given to her and made her way back to the lunch table.

"No!" Danny cried, but it was useless.

The effect was almost instantaneous. One moment Abigail was fine and chatting with her friends and the next she was clutching at her throat, trying desperately to draw breath. She collapsed to the ground, fright and pain completely erasing the cheerfulness of just a few second ago. People crowded closer, screamed, one person yelled to call an ambulance.

They couldn't save her. I heard about the incident from the school principal but when I got to the hospital I was too late. My daughter was dead.

Danny felt the agonizing pain of loss wash over him so strongly that he nearly cried out. There was anguish there, pain, helplessness…. And anger… Hate…

And he knew in that moment that the Lunch Lady had killed herself.

"I vowed that I would never let anyone else suffer the same fate as my daughter." The Lunch Lady appeared before Danny, looking down at him with angry determination in her face. "No one ever got hurt by my menu and it WILL STAY THAT WAY!"

Shocked by the sudden outburst, Danny jumped back and crouched into a defensive position. Though he was saddened by the Lunch Lady's tale, there was still something sitting uneasily within him. If she was truly trying to protect the children then… Danny wasn't sure, but didn't spending all eternity trying to prevent her daughter's fate from happening again equate to compassion—selflessness even—since it basically meant giving up eternity with her daughter's spirit in the afterworld? But the Lunch Lady didn't seem selfless. Instead, Danny sensed overwhelming rage and fear, even…

'That's it!'

"That's a lie!" He shouted, and the Lunch Lady immediately turned furious red eyes on the ghost boy. "You're not haunting the school to help save kids. You're doing it because you're afraid!"

"What?!" The woman cried, enraged as she advanced on the teen, hands held up threateningly.

Danny, refusing to be cowed, closed his eyes and took a breath. As he did, he put himself in the Lunch Lady's shoes, trying to fully comprehend her emotions. "You're afraid that your daughter will blame you. You feel guilty that you weren't there to protect her, that you couldn't save her." His eyes opened and he saw that the ghost before him had stilled in shock. Motivated, he ploughed on. "But it wasn't your fault! She died because of an accident, because…. She wasn't careful enough and that mistake had some horrible consequences." Danny grimaced as he said the last part, realizing too late that he probably shouldn't be blaming the dead daughter in front of her mother.

Indeed, the Lunch Lady's expression tightened and she opened her mouth—probably to tell Danny off.

"He's right, Ma."

Both Danny and the Lunch Lady turned at the new voice. But while he just stared wide-eyed at the young girl before them, the latter let out a cry of shock and pain.

"Abigail!"

"Yes, Ma, I'm really here." The girl was semi-transparent as she floated a few inches of the ground and was unlike any ghost Danny had ever seen. For one, she looked exactly the same as a human, save the floating and significant lack of tangibility. Second, she seemed much too benign.

"But I can't stay for long." Abigail said, smiling kindly at her mother.

"How is this possible?" The Lunch Lady said.

"He has an amazing power, Ma." Abigail said, nodding in Danny direction. He merely raised an eyebrow, wondering what she meant. But before he could voice any questions, the girl continued speaking. "I will be able to talk to you while we are in the in-between, but it won't last long." Then she grew solemn. "He's right, Ma. You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to me."

"But… it was my fault." The Lunch Lady was gasping with the effort to keep from sobbing but Danny watched in fascination as her skin seemed to loose its green hue, gaining the ruddy hue of health.

"No, it wasn't. Please, Ma, you have to stop blaming yourself. Dad and I are waiting for you." Abigail begged.

The Lunch Lady gasped. "You… and your father?" And before his eyes the ghost began looking less and less like a monster and more like a grieving mother. She was round, overweight, but her face lost any malignancy it had held and the threatening aura that accompanied all ghosts seemed to seep out of her.

"Please, come home, Ma." Abigail held out her hand.

The Lunch Lady, now a somewhat handsome woman in her late thirties, stared at the hand as though her daughter were offering her all the treasure in the world. Danny just continued watching, utterly bemused. Then, to his surprise, the Lunch Lady turned her head and looked straight at him.

"You have given me a priceless gift." She said softly. "I don't know how to thank you, dear."

Danny bowed his head, blushing embarrassedly as he put a hand to the back of his neck. "D-don't say that. All I did was fight you. I dunno how all this happened." He gestured vaguely at the white world surrounding them.

The Lunch Lady and her daughter stared at him in amazement.

"You act humble even though your deeds have saved me and reunited me with my daughter." The Lunch Lady looked fondly at Abigail, who grinned hugely, then turned her gaze back to Danny. "I think I know what I will give you."

And then the Lunch Lady reached out and grasped her daughter's hand. A bright light surrounded them and Danny had to shield his eyes.

"Wait!" He called and the Lunch Lady gazed back at him, forest green eyes twinkling—a complete opposite of how they'd looked not a few moments ago. The question he'd been about to ask froze in his mouth and changed as he stared into those eyes. "Why…why'd your eyes change colour?"

"A ghost's eyes turn red when they are consumed by rage and obsession." The ghost's gaze turned back to her daughter as they were slowly enveloped by the light and lifted into the air. "My daughter's presence banishes the madness. I feel... peaceful." These last words were spoken with reverent awe.

Then the light took over Danny's vision and he felt himself being pulled back—back into the real world.

Then his eyes widened in realization. "Wait!" he called out. "What's your name?"

His only response was a soft laugh as a few last words floated back to him.

"Take good care of my heart. I leave everything in your hands."

Danny came back to himself with the feeling of a thousand bricks falling on his body. His legs immediately gave out from underneath him and he collapsed ungracefully onto the hard grey floor of Walker's prison in a heap.

His vision swam and he felt so inexplicably tired that, when he blinked, his eyelids refused to reopen.

The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was a shimmer of colour and his hand closed around something hard. As a thick haze fell over his mind, Danny wondered vaguely why he always seemed to be ending up unconscious these days. And the then he could wonder no more as the darkness claimed him.

Miles away in a completely different dimension, the door to Vlad's mansion slammed open as Valerie Gray, decked out in full battle gear, strode into the entrance hall, her anger radiating off her in waves.

"Masters!" She yelled to the air. "Show yourself!" Raising her right arm, an ectogun rose from the back of her hand and she fired a bright red beam at one of the many green and gold ornaments decorating the room, destroying it with a loud explosion. "Or am I gonna have to tear this place apart and find you?!"

Barely six feet before here, the air shimmered as Vlad Masters, fully human, materialized from nothing. A cool smirk adorned his features as he loosely folded his arms behind the back of his fitted Italian suit.

Valerie's hand had wavered at the man's casual demonstration of power—his casual demonstration of his inhumanity. But she quickly recovered, steeling herself and levelling the glowing barrel of her gun with Vlad's eyes.

"Now, I think you and me are overdue for a little chat, Mr. Mayor."

I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I

End Chapter 19

To Be Continued…

I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I-I¤I

Heya! Hope you had fun. I've been waiting to get to this part of the story (*grin*), I hope I managed to do it justice.

To all my reviewers, thanks as always for your awesomeness! Nylah, dragondancer123, Kirby77DP77, Thunderstorm101, pearl84, TitanQueen13, love-toushi, Airamana's Shadow, Princess of Rose, Skating Queen, sciencefreak330, bbbb8484, BrokenBloodDrops and PhatomMous1115!

Adio!