Cicatrix: (n.) Scar of a healed wound; Forming of a scar.

Characters: Danny, Sam, Tucker, Lancer

Genre: Humour/General/Friendship

Rating: K+

Summary: In some situations, scars can be a signal of strength. In which, Lancers class showcase their various scars.

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." - Khalil Gibran

"Would anyone like to elaborate on what this quote means?"

A balding man in his late forties stood in front of a group of rowdy teenagers, arms crossed over his chest.

Said teens quieted down as the older man started speaking. But two boys continued to chuckle at a joke near the back of the room. The other comrade, Miss Sam Manson, shook her head at their antics, but a smile on her lips nonetheless.

Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. The two boys instantly ceased their laughter, one swallowing nervously, the other scratching his neck in embarrassment.

"Mr. Foley. Please explain this quote."

He shuffled awkwardly in his seat, staring at the written words, adjusting his red beret as his two friends smugly grinned at him.

"Umm...scars are tight?"

"No, Mr. Foley. Scars are not 'tight'." He pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured to the young girl in front of Tucker.

"Miss Manson, could you give an adequate explanation?"

Sam bit her bottom lip, staring at the board in concentration.

"I think the quote means, that the people who have suffered the most, may come out of a situation or 'battle' if you will, with scars, signalling physical injuries, but are still strong on the inside."

Mr. Lancer had a slight smile on his usually frowning face. He curiously watched as Sam, Tucker and Danny all shared a similar look between themselves.

"Thank you Miss Manson, that would be correct." He spoke, bringing the threes attention back to the front of the class. Meanwhile a letter-jacket wearing jock spoke up.

"Man, I've got so many scars from football it isn't even funny. Kwan, remember last weeks game?" He asked his friend. Kwan nodded grinning, pulling up a sleeve, revealing a large gash on his right forearm.

"Dog-pile. Some guys helmet came apart and a piece of metal scratched my arm. We still won though!"

"Booyah!" Came from his blonde friend as Dash and Kwan bumped fists.

"Psssh. I've gotten larger scars in my sleep." A smug girl in the front muttered.

Dash challengingly raised an eyebrow. "Oh really Valerie? Got any proof?" He shot back.

She huffed getting up from her seat and turned towards the jocks, lifting up a poof of hair, revealing a pink, jagged gash on the back of her neck, near her hairline.

"Got bit by a German Shepard when I was little, still hate dogs to this day too."

A raven haired boy in the back shrunk down into his seat, eyeing his best friends nervously. Sam and Tucker tried stifling their giggles, but it was a lost cause. Full blown laughter echoed throughout the class as Danny smacked his forehead none too lightly on his desk.

Valerie narrowed her eyes at them. "Whats so funny?"

Danny sat up, blue orbs wide. "Nothing! Uhh...Sam don't you have a scar to share?"

Sam eyed her best friend and shook her head, standing up, taking the attention away from him.

She lifted a hand up and pushed two fingers apart on her left hand, showcasing a straight narrow scar between them.

"Steak knife incident. I was helping cut some steak for my parents and accidentally slashed my hand. I ended up getting a virus from food contamination and was hospitalized for a week, which caused me to turn vegetarian. Needed five stitches too."

Sam sat back down in her seat, satisfied smile on her face and Valerie nodded appreciatively, before sitting in her own desk.

The goth girl turned towards her friend. "So Danny. Why don't ya show the class one of your scars?"

Dash piped up at that comment. "Fenton and scars in the same sentence? I don't think so, he just hides from everything, like a mommy's boy."

Sam grimaced, mouthing 'Sorry' at Danny, as Tucker frowned at Dash.

Danny shrank back for a moment, before bravely standing up and coughing awkwardly. Deciding to ignore Dash.

He took a deep breath. "As most of you know, my parents are ghost hunters and um, I'll just show you..."

The raven haired boy slowly pulled his white shirt up revealing his backside, a blush forming on his cheeks. The two teens beside him sighed, knowing exactly how their friend had got the scars, even bandaging some of them.

The whole class went into whispers, some gasping, but all staring at the black haired, blue eyed boy. Wondering how he had gotten all the scars, small pink lines running down his back, white jagged scratches. All the scars painting his pail skin like a canvas.

Danny motioned to a particularly large, dark purple scar running down his side. It dipped into the side of his baggy jeans and was covered by part of his shirt.

"I got electrocuted while turning on, and fixing my parents ghost portal. I don't remember much, just a flash of bright light and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the ground, Sam and Tucker by my side. The other scars are from various ghosts. Skulker, Johnny 13 and even Plasmius."

He smiled down at his two friends, silently thanking them for all they had ever done for him. Releasing his shirt he sat back down beside Tucker, giving him a fist bump and leaning forward to squeeze Sam's shoulder.

"Whoa, dude. Didn't think you had it in you." Tucker whispered as Lancer tried to calm down the class.

Danny smiled, and smirked at the shock on Dash's face.

Who knew it would be a scar to ever shock him speechless?

Meanwhile, Mr. Lancer was replaying the events that had just conspired. Even more surprised than some of his students at the amount of scars on young Mr. Fenton. He sighed, knowing boys would be boys, getting bashed and bruised in fights and all, but ghosts? Was Daniel fighting them, or just got in between the ghosts when his parents were fighting them?

Shaking his head, Lancer pulled his attention back to the class. Absentmindedly rubbing the knuckles on his right hand, where they had been broken countless times in fights, during his teenage years...

Just because he was a teacher didn't mean he didn't have scars of his own. He smugly smiled. Not that his students needed to know that.

"Scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going."
― David Rossi

A/N:I was going to have a more angsty feel to this chapter, but humour won out in the end.