A/N: GUYS I AM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I WAS SO READY TO BE FINISHED WITH THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH EARLIER THAN THIS, BUT THEN SCHOOL HAPPENED AND MY PHONE BROKE SO I HAD TROUBLE GETTING ON TO GOOGLE DOCS AND MY COMPUTER STINKS BECAUSE SOME OF THE KEYS ARE MISSING AND SOME OF THEM DON'T WORK AND AGGGHHHHHH
"oww…"
I groan. I try to open my eyes, I really do, but the harsh white light hurts. A lot. The thing is, though, I don't even remember passing out, which is never a good thing. Where am I? Oh yeah, I have absolutely no idea. It's really white in here though. A hospital room, maybe? I hope not. Ever since the whole 'ghost bug incident', as Sam, Tucker, and I call it, I'm kind of starting to agree with Tucker: hospitals stink. I'm starting to doubt I'm at a hospital, though, because I don't hear that annoying beeping sound that always seem to fill every single room, and I don't feel a hard mattress under me. Nope, just hard floor. Cool tiles press into my back. Wait, am I even wearing a shirt? God, I hope so.
"Is he waking up?" a voice asks. Someone else shushes it, and I manage to crack open an eye. I try not to shut it again as the harsh lighting assaults my vision, practically leaving me blind. Slowly, the other one follows. The scene playing out in front of me is definitely not one I would ever imagine: Four people leaning over me, two of them bullies, two of them friends, all of them wearing the same worried expression. I blink once, twice, but the four people leaning over me didn't go anywhere. I guess the only thing that proves is that I'm not imagining things.
"Danny…" One of them says, but my mind is too foggy to register who it was. Instead of responding, I stare blankly back up at them through half closed eyes. Someone puts a cold hand on my shoulder, and I flinch, because for some reason it really hurts. Now that I think about it, everything hurts. Mostly my shoulder, side, and ankle. Everything else is just a dull ache, a feeling I've gotten pretty used to over the past year. So much so that I'm able to pretty much ignore it. Well, Unless I move.
"Danny…?" someone asks.
"Fenton… what the hell happened to you?" Another voice, another question I really don't want to answer. Not like I could, even if I did want to. My tongue feels too swollen, and my throat feels too dry. I don't think I'd be able to get out a coherent sentence if I tried. I think I may have opened my mouth at some point, but all that came out of it was a feeble coughing fit, which only served to aggravate my throat more.
"C- ca- I- w- water…?" was all I could manage in my weakened, injured state. I think it came out as a question, but I can't be sure. Not that I care. As long as they got the message, and I got my much needed glass of water. I dimly register someone moving to get up, but not much more after that. I remember trying to sit up, wincing as pain flares in my side. I'm a little bit surprised, looking back on it, that no one tried to stop me. Surprised, but no less thankful. I don't know- I just feel more vulnerable, awkward, and uncomfortable lying on the ground with people -or anything for that matter- looking down on me. It probably comes from a year of ghost-fighting, or maybe that's just me.
I look around again as the door to the room -that I now know is, in fact a bathroom- creaks open and Sam steps in, holding a glass of water. She sits down along the wall I'm currently leaning against and tries to bring it up to mouth. I ignore that and just grab the glass out of her outstretched hands. I refuse to be humiliated like that, especially in front of Dash and Kwan. I mean, haven't I already been humiliated enough, what with my missing shirt and all.
I downed the glass of ice cold water in a grand total of about 17 seconds. Probably not my best idea. Did I mention it was ice cold? Long story short, I ended up with a stomach cramp and brain freeze.
"Jesus, Danny, slow down. You're going to make yourself sick." Tucker said jokingly, yet concerned and serious at the same time. I set the glass down next to me.
"Sorry." I said, still catching my breath, but able to talk now.
"You OK?" he asked. I contemplated my answer for a moment. I sure didn't feel fine at the moment; Everything hurt. Other than that though, I'm pretty sure I was. I've been injured pretty bad before, and ended up just fine afterward.
"I will be, just give me a few minutes." I answered him, referring to my mild, water induced cramp and headache. Those types of things usually faded relatively quickly.
My eyes swept the room, finally settling on Dash and Kwan, or, more specifically, their matching comical expressions of utter confusion. I sort of knew where they were coming from. Before I got my ghost powers, being as injured as I am now, 'being fine in a few minutes' seems one hundred percent impossible. Of course they don't know about that, and hopefully they never will if my friends and I have anything to do with it. I don't mean to brag, but we've gotten pretty good at hiding things from people in the more recent months.
"Hey, can I have my shirt back?" I asked out of the blue. I was starting to feel a little self conscious with the two jocks, staring wide-eyed at my cloth-less upper body. Like I said before, I'm pretty used to being injured like this, so my friends often see me without a shirt on, and I don't really mind any more. But these two people are practically strangers to me. Sure I've known them my whole life. We went to the same school for as long as I could remember. But they were the popular kids, and we weren't, so it wasn't like we hung out at all, or talked. I don't know them like I know Sam and Tucker.
Dash gestured to a small, bloody pile in the corner, evidently, the soiled remains of my once white t-shirt along with my red tennis shoes.
"I'll go get something. I don't know if it'll fit you, but you can try it if you want." Kwan offered. He always was nicer to me than Dash was, even though Dash is being strangely nice to me right now for some reason. Not that I don't appreciate it, I mean who wouldn't? It's just really weird to me, especially right now.
Kwan left the large bathroom, closing the door behind him. It got me wondering for the first time, where exactly are we? If Kwan's the one getting me a shirt, does that mean we're at his house? I mean, I assume he keeps his clothing in his bedroom. That's where most people would keep it, right?
A few minutes pass in complete silence before the door opens again, and Kwan steps in, holding a dark black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. I look up. He walks over and hands them to me.
"I don't know if they'll fit you," he begins, repeating what he said before, "but they're really comfortable." I took them from him, confused as to why he brought sweatpants as well as the shirt I originally asked for. I look down at my jeans, and realize for the first time that they're a mess. There's some blood dripped down on to them, but it's mostly just dirt and other bits of filth that looked like it came from the bottom of a sewer.
"Thanks." I say quietly, taking them in my hands. I pull the shirt over my bandaged torso, and its a bit baggy on me, considering how much smaller I am then Kwan. I try to stand up, and Sam holds out a hand to help me stand up. I shoot her an 'I can do it myself' look, wincing a bit as my weight shifts onto my bad foot. It's expertly wrapped in a thick layer of white gauze, so I can only assume that Sam was the one who did it. She's usually pretty good about that kind of thing.
"Uhhh…" I say, looking at my friends and the two jocks, down at my pants, and then back up at them. "Think you guys could… you know leave for a minute?" I ask uncertainly, hoping they would get the hint. I know I probably shouldn't be standing on my own right now, but I sure as hell don't want help changing my pants. Dash and Kwan have already seen more than they should, and Sam and Tucker… they're my friends, but… I don't know. That would just be too weird. Especially if Sam saw me without pants. I mean, I like her but just… no. That would make things too awkward between us, and right now, I really don't need that. Tucker, Dash, and Kwan seem more than happy to step out, but Sam is more hesitant. She glares at me, and I glare defiantly back at her. Tucker puts a hand on her shoulder.
"He'll be fine, Sam. It'll only be for a minute."
"Fine." She says, crossing her arms over her chest. She sends one last look at me, and I smile reassuringly. She scowls, but turns around to leave. The door clicks shut behind her.
Usually, it only takes me a few moments to change, but this time, I had to make a conscious effort not to get either pair of pants caught around my ankle. It adds on about a minute to the time it takes. Another minute of time is wasted on me being foolish, and poking at my bandaged appendage, then wincing as a particularly harsh stab of pain courses through it. I quickly remove my hand from my leg.
I have to tie the pull strings of the sweatpants as tight as they can go just to get them to stay up, and the cloth goes way past my actual feet. But they're really soft and comfortable, so I don't really mind too much. I limp heavily over to the door, trying not to put weight on my bad foot, and trying not to trip. I twist the knob, not surprised to find Sam waiting for me on the other side.
"Everyone's in the living room," she begins, "C'mon I'll help you to the couch." She puts her arm around my shoulder, and I flinch at the sudden and unexpected contact. I never thought she was one to like that kind of thing, being goth and all, but we've been friends for so long she's probably gotten used to it by now.
I find myself internally thanking her for the extra support, despite the fact that I didn't even want any in the first place. I may heal faster than most people, but it still takes time, and right now, it still hurts like a bitch. We make our way slowly down the long hallway.
"You know, you look like shit right now?" Sam asks. It makes me laugh a little.
"Thanks. I feel like it, too." I answer jokingly.
"What happened to you anyway?" She asks, suddenly serious. I both like and despise the way her tone changes from taunting to dead serious in a matter of seconds.
"This and that. The usual." I answer simply. It's not the complete truth, but I really don't feel like explaining how I was attacked from behind. Or that my attacker wasn't even a ghost, but some insane human criminal looking for money and drugs and the like. Essentially, I got mugged. I can tell she doesn't believe me. I'm a horrible liar. Even I wouldn't have believed me. Nonetheless, I smile slightly. Her pale purple eyes bore into my own blue ones and I look away. Her face is a neutral mask, only allowing slight traces of worry to leak into it. It's a look that clearly says: 'We'll talk later'.
"Damn it." I mutter under my breath, remembering for the first time exactly what happened, more specifically, what I lost. If I had been more careful, I would've been able to defend myself, and I certainly wouldn't be in this mess. Not only is my secret at risk, but two of the most popular kids at my school just saw me half naked, and I am not ok with that. And beside that, I get $73 taken from right under my nose, and I was too stunned to do anything about it. The man had grabbed me from behind in a choke-hold, cutting off my airway, while his hand slipped into my pocket and grabbed my money. And when I was finally able to pull myself together to at least try and fight back, he pulls a freaking knife on me! An actual knife! I guess I could've been more careful while I was patrolling for ghosts, but still. He had an unfair size advantage, and the element of surprise on his side as well.
"What?" Sam asked. We were making slow progress through the long hallway, now about halfway down it. I was leaning against her as we walked, putting most of my weight on my right side.
"Nothing. Never mind." I say quickly. She gives me another 'I know you're bullshitting me' look, but still doesn't press me for answers. I've been getting quite a lot of those recently. She rolls her eyes.
"C'mon, we're almost there." Yay. More awkward silence. Well, at least I get to sit down comfortably, instead of on a bathroom floor.
Before long, we make it to the area where the narrow hallway opens up into a large, elegant, yet simple living room. Against the back wall is a couch, which Tucker was already sitting on. On the wall above it, there's an abstract painting with a white background and muted blues and purples covering the surface, each color twisting around the other. On either side of the couch sat two armchairs, each one holding a different jock. The three pieces of furniture were situated around a small coffee table in a way that any person sitting in them could reach it. On the other side of the room, against the back wall, a large flat screen television was sitting on top of one of those wooden table things that was made specifically for that purpose, with shelves on the bottom half of it, holding various movies and video game discs.
Sam led me to the couch, and I collapsed onto it next to Tucker, who was sitting on the end. She then sat down next to me, so I was in between the two of them. I leaned against the back of the soft couch, and tucked both of my legs up toward me, criss-crossing them in front of me.
A small dog that had been curled up fast asleep on the simple off white carpet picks up its head, and starts yapping at me. I jump, startled, because frankly, I hadn't even noticed it was there in first place. Suddenly, it jumps up, and runs over to the foot of the couch, directly in front of where I'm sitting, although it doesn't dare climb up. It growls at me, glaring with its beady black eyes, and it's ears laid back against its head. I glare right back at the thing. Pookie, right? I'm fairly sure its the same dog from before. What did Dash say? It was his grandmother's dog? I don't remember exactly, but I think that's what he said when they were walking. Speaking of that...
"What were you two doing, walking around at 2:00 in the morning, anyway?" I blurt out, before I can stop myself. "And why did you even bring the stupid dog?"
Dash looks at Kwan, and then at me.
"We could ask you the same question," he states "minus the dog." He adds, almost as an afterthought. I bite my lip, looking to Sam, and then to Tucker.
"Uhh... Walking?" I didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but apparently my tongue had other ideas. They look at me disbelievingly. I have to look away, and my eyes decide on the light brown dog, which had stopped barking. It was, however, still bristling, albeit non threateningly. To me of course. I'm more than willing to bet that the dog was aiming to try and scare me. It glares at me through beady black eyes. I glare right back.
I look away from Kwan after about a minute, and back to Fenton. The scene I'm greeted with is probably one of the most bizarre I've ever seen in my life. The kid is having a staring contest with Pookie. My dog growls at him, but the two just continue to glare at each other like it's the most natural thing in the world.
What I can't believe, is that he had the nerve to ask what us we were doing, like these were normal circumstances. Obviously, he didn't want us to think otherwise, but does he really think we're that stupid? I mean yeah, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I can't speak for Kwan, because I know he's smarter than me, but I know that seeing someone almost bleed to death in an alley wasn't just something a person could brush off like it was nothing. Not only that, but I have other questions as well. Why did his friends look like they knew exactly what they were doing? Does this kind of thing happen often? And why is it that he weighs so little for someone his age? I mean, he looks healthy, but that's just not normal, even if he is small and scrawny looking. Not only that, but he had a nasty bruise on his jaw, and it's practically gone already. I have a feeling he's not going to be the one to answer those questions, and I'm fairly sure Manson and Foley won't, either. But I'm still going to get them, even if Kwan and I have to force them out of the trio. All I want is answers. But it's not like they even owe it to me. Not with all the crap I give them, pretty much daily.
I decide to let my mind wander. Just thinking about all this is making my brain hurt. What time is it anyway? I take my phone out of my pocket, turning the screen on. 4:33 in the morning? Jesus Christ it's getting late. Or early. I don't even know. But it's Sunday, so at least we don't have to go to school for another day. We continue to sit in a very awkward silence for the next 10 minutes. The trio was sitting stiffly on the couch, minus Fenton, who was sagging into it, in a strange state of being half awake and half asleep at the same time. A sudden chill enters the room, but I assume it's just a draft. Fenton shoots up into a sitting position with a sickening POP. Manson puts a hand on his lower thigh, and Foley grabs his shoulder, presumably to keep him on the couch. But why? Another question to add to the list. The two look at him disapprovingly, and he shrinks back into the couch.
"Just ignore it, Danny. Let someone else take care of it" Mason tells him. Foley nods, saying nothing. I give Kwan a confused look, complete with raised eyebrows. He shakes his head, reaching for the remote on the coffee table, then turning the TV on to one of those weird late night shows.
I don't even remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know, the sun is shining in my face, waking me up. I check the time. It's just after 7. Damn, that's early. Kwan is still asleep on the other arm chair, and Foley is stretched out along the whole couch. One of his arms hangs off the edge, just enough for his fingers to brush the floor. Fenton and Manson, however, are no where to be seen. Just as I'm about to try and go back to sleep, I hear a clang coming from the direction of the kitchen. I want to ignore it, but then I hear hushed voices. It's too quiet to actually make out what they're saying, which spikes my curiosity even more. Unfortunately for me, I'm probably not gonna get any more sleep, so I get up and head toward the kitchen, making sure to stand quietly, unseen.
"But what if—" Fenton asks.
"They won't. Trust me." Manson answers.
"But they could. How hard do you think it is for someone to put two and two together? What if—"
"By that logic, everyone in Amity Park would have figured it out by now, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah but... They're the only ones in Amity Park that saw...you know..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. They so you change?!"
"Wha— no! They saw me dead! Or at least, they thought they did."
"Oh." She sounded relieved, for some reason.
"How is that any better? What if they—"
"If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times! They. Will. Not. Find. Out!"
I walk in that moment, not able to hold it off any longer.
A/N: Again, I want to apologize for taking forever, but life got in the way. I know I said I would try to update every two weeks, but we all know that that's bullshit. DO NOT TRUST ME EVER AGAIN IF I TRY TO GIVE MYSELF DEADLINES BECAUSE I WILL MOST LIKELY BREAK THEM! Also, I know this is yet ANOTHER cliffie, but this update was already super late and I was like AHHHHH I HAVE TO POST THIS NOW OR ELSE EVERYONE WILL GET MAD AT ME! (or at least more mad than they already are. :/) So, anyway, if the next update takes longer than three weeks, then please feel free to PM me and whoop my ass into shape! Oh, and before I forget, review and tell me what you thought and/or any grammar or spelling mistakes I may have made!
EDIT: Please check my profile for progress reports on this fic! I just recently started doing those so if you really want to know, then I encourage you to check that out! (I'm hoping it's going to help me update faster, but who knows?)