Author's Note: Woohoo! Long chapter. Hope you like. Took longer than I thought to write it, and I was working on it almost every evening too. I finally got to do that last proof read/writing tonight. Please R&R:D
Catalyst, Chapter 23
Relationships
Summer had begun, and Danny, thanks to Tucker, had landed himself a part time job.
He was working for Vlad. Pulling staples.
Tucker hadn't put it like that of course, and Danny was grateful to him, when it came down to it, even if Tucker's job, two floors up from Danny's, was five thousand times more interesting.
He was a video game tester.
Danny ground his teeth together ever so slightly, and tried to ignore the portrait of Vlad hanging on the wall as he went to sit in his tiny cubicle. At least he was being paid twelve dollars an hour for this, which was two dollars more than Tucker.
To Tucker's credit, he hadn't known the job meant working for Vlad, however indirectly. Tucker worked in a huge building, with a dozen different companies stuffed inside it, and Konnektor Incorporated, a company apparently in the process of moving their paper records over to computer, had put up an ad on Tucker's floor. Danny had only discovered yesterday, on his first day of work, that Konnektor was also a small subsidiary of DALV Incorporated. Vlad's so not charming picture had made that obvious.
At least it was isolated. No one he knew saw him down here; honestly, hardly anyone did, as even the other workers were cut off by their cubicles. And the manager, so far, had come around so infrequently that Danny could get away with...
Danny started up the iPod he had tucked carefully under his shirt, and zoned out as he got to work. Staple removal didn't require much brain power.
His wandering thoughts, as a result, immediately flew to his biggest worry.
Sam.
He loved being around her. They made each other laugh. They could talk about anything for hours. He could trust her completely, with everything about himself. Just being around her helped him relax, and he was attracted to her, very much so. He could see himself living a lifetime with her.
But something held him back, even though he knew time was running out.
Perhaps a month had passed since "the talk"with his dad, and Danny could feel the tension growing. He was in summer school now, taking calculus as planned, and he'd just started this part time job, which helped things a lot, since it showed he was capable of being responsible. Jazz was also back, and he was almost sure she was doing her best to keep their parents reigned in, to "give him a little more time."
But he still wasn't directly "taking responsibility," and it was just a matter of time before that blew up in his face, he was sure.
And it would probably be in the most embarrassing way possible. Like...his dad would get a hold of Sam sometime and ask her if they had discussed a date for the wedding yet.
Danny shuddered. Sam still didn't know! He had yet to tell her that his parents thought he was the dad; it would lead right into the question he was too terrified to ask her. Besides, it was just plain embarrassing. On that note, though, what about Sam's parents? Sam's mom, using the secret language of the death glare, had made it crystal clear on multiple occasions who she blamed for Sam's current situation. Had she talked to Sam? If so, Sam hadn't said anything to him about it, which was...potentially worrying.
Or maybe that was a good thing? Danny sighed unhappily, and paused in pulling staples for a moment. He wanted things to be right. He needed to make things right. But his anxiety rose exponentially every time he seriously thought about how to ask Sam out. Who said that would make everything better, anyway? Maybe that was just what he wanted, and she'd be horrified and distressed if he told her how he felt...
Danny sighed again, and went back to pulling staples. Deep down, he knew that wasn't the problem. There was no way he was imagining that...special chemistry they shared.
He liked Sam, Sam liked him. That wasn't the problem. Then what was? Just thinking about their possible shift from friendship to romance brought up a mix of anxiety and guilt.
Danny stared down at his hands, his work forgotten, and the music on his iPod became a distant noise. He hated those feelings, especially since he knew Sam wanted him to let go, and look to the future. It was linked to everything she'd been put through...and to his realization of how he'd completely failed to protect her.
It was hard to let that guilt go, and maybe moving from friend to boyfriend- someone, in his mind, who was supposed to look out for and protect their girl- brought that feeling up in him. Thankfully it wasn't at the forefront of his mind all the time. It came and went, and he hoped that it would soon fade altogether.
And it was still better than the burning need for revenge he'd felt for months, which had finally left him. Now, Danny decided, it would be enough if he simply never had to see or even think of Clockwork and his future self ever again. The only catch there was that Danny wanted- needed- to know that they wouldn't come back to hurt or meddle with him and his loved ones again.
Fortunately Sam still wore her warning watch, which was matched to his own, so that he could get to her quickly if she was in trouble. And he still guarded her at night. But this was all he could think to do, since confronting his enemies directly wouldn't accomplish anything. He'd already learned that he couldn't trust anything either said, and he wasn't willing to truly destroy them. And it was practically impossible to confront them anyway since Clockwork, who could hide in the past or future, was involved.
Danny sighed quietly, and got back to pulling staples. So...that meant he'd simply have to stay alert. And, logically, the more time he spent near Sam, the easier that would be.
His shoulders relaxed a little. He definitely couldn't complain about spending time with Sam...
In fact, if they were a couple, he could spend even more time near her, which would better. And if they...got married, they'd share a house, and they'd always be in the same room at night...
Danny blushed pink.
Then he frowned in consternation. Yeah. Assuming he ever asked her out, of course.
Sam, I need to date you...for your protection!
His blush deepened as pictures of his super hero ghost self, the one wrapped in a bed sheet, sprang up. Sam, as he recalled, had not been impressed. Danny frowned more deeply, and a feeling of desperation came over him. That version of him had been really brave...
Stupid, stupid, stupid... Danny hit his head softly on the desk a few times, then sat slumped, his forehead on the desk, and stared at his feet. Definitely not.
What he needed to do was stick to the basics: he liked Sam, she liked him. Simple! Now he just needed to ask her out...
Crud! How was he going to do this, again?
"Hey Jazzypants! You've got mail!" Jack's booming voice carried across the living room to where Jazz sat on the couch channel surfing. A moment later he was at her side, and handed over a few envelopes, with a curious look on his face. "Looks like you got something interesting..."
"Eh?" She raised her eyebrows, and leafed through. Credit card offer...credit card offer...another credit card offer...
And what looked like a letter from one Dimitri Mihailov. Weird. She puzzled over it for a moment, then began to carefully rip open the envelope. The writing looked strangely familiar.
Hmm...
"Sounds Russian! Is he someone from school?" Jazz started, and looked up into her father's eyes. Then the writing style clicked in her mind.
Danny.
Jazz jumped up hurriedly. "Um, yeah, sorry Dad, this is private..." She headed up the stairs at a jog, leaving her father more curious than before.
After closing and locking the door, Jazz sat at her desk and continued opening the envelope. This was Danny's writing, but there was no reason for him to use a pseudonym. And that left only one realistic option.
Jazz realized she was holding her breath, and let it go. Then she drew out the letter and opened it nervously. A scrap of something fell out, and she picked it up.
It was a black and white newspaper clipping with a picture featuring Danny, who was smiling widely. He sported a goatee and shoulder length hair, which was held back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was wearing an expensive looking suit. He looked rich and powerful.
Vlad was standing next to him. His smile was smaller, yet smugger at the same time. Or at least that was how it struck Jazz, whose stomach was beginning to twist into knots. Danny's older self, working with Vlad...
The headline read "Family of Fortune." Dimitri Mihailov, second cousin to Vlad Masters, has recently partnered with the multi-billionaire to grow the small but promising company known as New Age Utilities into another financial power house. Mr. Masters admitted to us in an interview this morning that his young cousin is primarily responsible for moving New Age Utilities to a larger (and they predict eventually global) market, while Mr. Masters has been enjoying the experience of overseeing his cousin's, and proclaimed protege's, personal growth as a business entrepreneur. Dimitri appears to have the knack, because the profit for the once tiny company has already grown fifty times over, and shows no signs of slowing down. Dimitri, also present this morning, only half jokingly suggested we buy stock...
The article went into more detail on New Age Utilities, and rounded off by predicting that young Dimitri Mihailov would grow into another business giant, especially with the guiding influence of none other than Vlad Masters.
Jazz put the article down, and stared through it unseeingly. She felt afraid to read the letter. What if it was a threat? What could they do? Danny was powerful, but this was more than physical strength, it was...
Just not anything she wanted to think about. Jazz tilted her head, and frowned into the distance. And yet, in all these years, Vlad had never done anything truly drastic to them. And he could have. Of course, she had her pet theories about that, but they didn't really reflect on what Danny's future self might do in his position...
Jazz slowly picked up the letter, her heart in her throat. This could be the harbinger of so many horrible things, the end of their world...in Danny's handwriting. It made her nauseous.
Jazz.
First of all this is in no way a threat, so you can calm down.
Second: I'm sorry. A thousand times over. I'm sorry, for everything. I wish this letter could convey to you how I feel, how I've changed. It can't.
I will say that I love you, all of you. I will never hurt any of you again in any way. And if you don't believe me, at least rest assured that Clockwork won't allow it.
You're probably worried about me and Vlad working together, right? You don't need to be, believe me. That's easier said than done, I know. But essentially, Vlad helped get me back on my feet after Christmas, and along the way I asked him to teach me a few things about business. He agreed, and things took off from there. You're still suspicious, right? All I can say is that what you see in that newspaper is what you get. Nothing more. There is no evil plan in the works.
There were a few erase marks, which showed that he had started over the next paragraph at least once.
Maybe this will help. Vlad's a better guy than we gave him credit for, Jazz. In my original timeline, when you and everyone else had died, he was there for me. For an entire year, he looked after me. I can't explain that in a letter either, even if I wrote out every single thing he did. But I learned a lot about him then, and I can definitely say that you can relax. That doesn't mean he's a saint. For instance, I guarantee he's found a way to read this letter. But when it comes down to it, he's mostly harmless.
So. You've got to be wondering why I've gone into big business, right? There's an important reason behind it, and no, it's not because I'm a power hungry megalomaniac. My younger self should probably re-read this part: I am not a power hungry megalomaniac. But I have been a monster. I've done terrible things.
I'll probably never be able to wipe the slate clean, but I can't not try to make up for what I did, Jazz. At the same time I can't afford, and don't deserve, to act as some kind of Superman to the world. For one, my self control isn't something I want to push. One punch, even in the name of good, could be dangerous for me to throw. That's why I wouldn't fight back against my younger self last winter- I promised myself I'd never throw that punch.
So basically, I'm going to make myself the richest man on the planet instead. Then I'll funnel my money into good causes, like charities, and humanitarian groups. And since I know you're thinking it: the money is clean and will always be clean. No overshadowing, no cheating. Despite what you probably think, Vlad is a natural businessman. It's true he cheated to get into the game, but his success would've ended a long time ago if he hadn't backed it up with some real work. He's been teaching me those tricks- the legal ones. No powers, unless you count my ability to go without sleep for weeks at a time.
So what do you think of my human disguise? I hope it doesn't freak you out too much. It's simply easier for me to maintain something close to my natural form, which is why I look so much like my younger self- though I think the goatee and longer hair should work nicely to differentiate us. Anyway, I thought that seeing a picture of me now, with an explanation, as opposed to when you're leafing through the newspaper, would be less of a shock.
About the money, though: I don't want to be in charge of how it's used, and I shouldn't be. With her permission, I want to leave that in the hands of a wiser and better person. Sam. She's a natural philanthropist, but practical at the same time. She'll know how to use the money best. Just so you know how serious I am, the back of this letter has the information she'll need to access an account I've set up for her. The money there is hers.
There is no obligation of any kind here. I honestly think she's the best person for this, nothing more. Back in high school, all the other kids in our grade were thinking about how to be cool, myself included. I'll never forget Sam's thoughts on the world, on people, her ability to clearly see right and wrong. She stood out, and still does. She is one of the few people in the world I would trust to do the right thing with massive sums of money. And I think that she would like the chance to "make a difference."
Please understand, though. I owe you all. And even if Sam uses all that money for years to come, I'll still owe you all, never vice versa. I'm not trying to control, or manipulate any of you in any way. If the money isn't touched, I'll just do something with it myself, eventually.
I guess that's it. I don't know what else to say, except to reiterate what I told you at the beginning of this letter. I love you all, and I'll never hurt any of you ever again. And I'm grateful for this second chance at life, something I believed for years to be gone. I know it's hard for you to understand, but your existence is a miracle to me. It took me years to adjust to the fact that you're all truly alive again.
There were erase marks again; it looked as though an entire paragraph had been removed.
There are too many things for me to say, so I'd better stop while I'm ahead. I just wish you could see how sincere I am, but this damn pencil and paper can never do that.
Please try not to surprise everyone too badly with this, Jazz, especially my younger self. I know I deserve it, but I'd prefer to avoid another beating, and now he'll be able to track me down rather easily.
Everyone: I know it isn't something I can prove overnight, but I really do mean well.
With Love,
Danny
Jazz slowly put down the letter. She picked up the newspaper clipping, and looked at his picture again. Tears, glistening in her eyes, slowly traveled down her cheeks.
She already had a little brother. But now there was this. Jazz put down the slip of paper, and covered her face with both hands, secretly terrified that someone might hear her crying.
Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?
He couldn't be Danny! Danny was here, at home! There couldn't be two of them, it didn't make sense! It wasn't right! But he wrote with his handwriting, with his style, and she could hear his voice saying the words. It was more sophisticated, but that made sense, if he had been working with Vlad, studying to be a big business CEO...
Jazz found her thoughts turning back, her mind forcing her to analyze every encounter she could remember, everything she had learned about him, how everyone talked about him. Everything he had done. His past.
Her crying got worse. She didn't want to think about it! He had done something unforgivable to Sam, how could she possibly give this letter to them...? How did he expect them to react, when he had tried to kill them all three years ago? How could he write this, as if asking for forgiveness?
Why did he care, when he was supposed to be an inhuman monster, some remnant of Danny's ghost half from another twisted reality? Not...real, not...human! Jazz took a few shuddering, gulping breaths of air, and curled up her hands so that her eyes were visible again. She peeked down at the picture sitting on the desk.
It was Danny, a little older, with a goatee and a ponytail. It made her tears start up again, and she violently opened the top drawer of her desk, stuffing everything into it. Then she threw herself on the bed, stomach first, and hugged her pillow, trying not to think about it anymore.
But Jazz found that she couldn't think of anything else. She found herself going back over her encounters with Sam, how she had been convinced that he wouldn't fight back against Danny. And she had been right. How though? What had he told Sam to convince her of that in a few minutes time? Jazz had never truly sat down with Sam to talk through her trauma, as she had told herself she would.
She knew Sam, and could guess that she probably hadn't gone to see anyone to work through what she had experienced. No counseling, nothing. And Jazz was too close to her, to the situation. She had been afraid.
So she had put it off. But that didn't mean she hadn't observed Sam's behavior; that wasn't something Jazz could turn off even if she wanted to. And what she saw didn't quite add up. Yes, Sam had been traumatized, but...she seemed...
It was as though Sam was willing to forgive him. Had forgiven him. And Jazz knew that if she thought he was nothing but a bloodthirsty monster she never would have.
But if Sam truly thought that he was another Danny, albeit darker and pure ghost, but still...
...my brother...
Jazz turned so that her face wasn't buried in her pillow anymore and opened her eyes, staring off into nothing.
A memory rose suddenly in her mind's eye...a talk she'd had with Danny maybe a month ago over the phone. He had asked her a hard question, and it had upset her. She remembered having to hold back tears. Danny had been so upset...no, it was worse, he'd been distraught, and was trying to cover it. And she hadn't known how to answer him.
He had wanted to know if she'd still love him, even if he had done horrible things. Even if he, her brother, was as bad as his evil future self.
Even if, hypothetically, he was his future self. That was what he had asked her. Jazz blinked slowly, frozen in place. She felt light headed.
Suspicion, with dread lurking just behind, seared itself into her mind.
Who had she been talking to?
Yet he'd been so sweet, and insightful! He'd told her she was brave, and selfless, and he'd meant it! Jasmine's heart clenched painfully, and she buried her face back in the pillow, hugging it harder than before.
She had secretly cherished those words. He'd sounded so certain, so mature. She'd been so proud of him, her little brother, all grown up.
And that was when she'd told him her answer: that she would always love him, unconditionally.
Jazz sat up violently, and moved around the room in a frenzy of activity; pulling on a sweater, putting on shoes, grabbing her purse. Then she went to her desk, pulled out the letter and newspaper clipping, and carefully placed them back inside their envelope. She snugged the envelope into her purse. That absolutely couldn't be left laying around.
Jazz paused for a moment. Then she got out a hat, and twisted her hair up into it. People always recognized her by her long red hair, and she didn't want to be recognized right now.
She left the house quickly, only taking a moment to yell in a tight voice that she was going out for a while. Then she was off, in her own car. Maybe she'd see a movie, or treat herself to a meal out. But she couldn't sit at home right now just thinking. Jazz knew her mind wouldn't truly let things alone, but she couldn't help it.
She wanted to forget for a little while.
Yet the thought was already pushing itself up in her mind:
He had played a truly dirty trick on her, pretending like that.
Jazz ended up doing both. She caught a matinee showing of some chick flick, and then, feeling only slightly better, had treated herself to an early dinner all the way across town from home. She was currently stirring up her mashed potatoes disconsolately. It was supposedly a comfort food, after all, and that's what she was going for.
It was still early, just after five o'clock in the afternoon, and the restaurant was still relatively empty. Jazz frowned hard for a few moments, and finally gave in. She got out her cell phone, and dialed.
"Hey Jazz, what's up?"
"Tucker." She hesitated for a moment. He sounded a little surprised that she was calling him. And now that she had him on the phone...
"Um, I...can we talk? I'll...treat you to dinner, if you want." She gripped the phone tightly, feeling unusually lost. For once, she didn't know what to do.
There was a short pause. "Er, yeah...I'm always up for free food." He sounded light-hearted, but Jazz knew he could tell something was wrong. "Tell me where, and I'll be there, because I'm heading to the car right now." Jazz did a double take; she'd forgotten that he would just be getting off work. And that meant...
She lowered her voice nervously. "Tucker...Danny isn't with you, is he? I can't...this would be a disaster if he tagged along."
"He works later than me by about four hours, so no. We're good." She could hear the concern in his voice now. "So where am I heading again?"
"Just... Rudy's is fine." It was a smallish place that had a good steak, which would make Tucker happy. And it had quiet, relatively private seating.
Jazz beat Tucker there, and was already sipping water when he showed up at her table. He gave her a quick searching look, and slid into the booth across from her.
"Hey."
"Hey. Thanks for coming." She stared at her drink, and gave up trying to keep the worry off her face. "I wish it was just...not anything so..." She dropped off, throat suddenly tight.
Tucker looked up at Jazz surreptitiously as she fiddled with her glass of water, face down turned. He'd never heard her stutter so much, ever. And she looked like she might have been crying earlier, if he was any judge.
Then there was the tension radiating off of her in waves. Whatever this was, it was important, and Tucker felt rather nervous about asking her what the problem was.
The waiter came up just then, and Tucker remembered he was at a place with really good steak. "Ready to order?"
"Um, yeah, I'll get the..." he glanced down briefly, "number two. Steak and potatoes." He grinned up at the young man.
The waiter smiled. "A classic." He turned to Jazz. "And you?"
"Just...a hot tea, I guess."
"We have herbal teas, Earl Grey tea, Darjeeng..."
"Darjeeng's fine." She seemed to remember that having a kick to it.
"Is that all?"
"Yeah. Thanks." He made a note and took off.
Tucker frowned, watching as Jazz went back to fiddling with her drink. He sighed softly. At least he had a good meal to help him through it, whatever this was about.
He leaned forward, and put his elbows on the table. "So what's up? Jazz." He waited for her to reluctantly look up at him. He had to suppress a flinch.
Tucker had never seen that look on Jazz's face before. She was completely lost, desperate. She put her head in one hand, emotional stress personified. To Tucker's horror, she barely suppressed a sob.
"I don't want to freak you out. He said this wasn't a threat. But..." She looked down at the table for a moment, then started rummaging in her purse. "Just look at it yourself."
"Eat your steak." Tucker looked up, eyes wide, and sore from being that way for too long. He slowly assimilated what Jazz had just said. Then he tried to grin, and it turned into a grimace.
"I never thought I'd hear that." He glanced over at his plate. "And it's got to be totally cold by now, too." He stared at it for a moment, still holding the letter tightly, and finally handed the whole thing back across to Jazz. As he dug into the food, he realized this had to be the first time he'd completely ignored a fresh, hot steak set directly in front of him before.
Even as he ate, he didn't truly enjoy the food. The picture of Danny with a goatee and a ponytail smiling next to Vlad kept rearranging itself in his head. And if that wasn't enough, the handwriting...
That was just wrong. How he talked in that letter, how he acted, like he was Danny or something...! Tucker found himself gritting his teeth, and forced himself to swallow a super chewed piece of steak. After everything that monster had done, he had the nerve to think this letter would make up for it...
And the idea that he could convince them he wasn't up to something with Vlad, well...how stupid did he think they were? The only reason he and Vlad probably sent the letter in the first place was to buy time while they put the finishing touches on some diabolical plan, since they knew they'd be shown in the news sometimes, and that Danny or someone close to him might see and investigate.
And Tucker didn't even want to think about what that diabolical plan probably entailed...but Vlad seemed way too interested in Nathaniel. Not to mention the "father." Tucker put down his fork, staring at his half-finished meal. His fists clenched under the table. He couldn't count the number of times he'd secretly wished he had ghosts powers like Danny, and now was one of those times. He felt so damn powerless! And what about Sam? How did she fit into their scheming?
Tucker's jaw clenched as the disturbing possibilities ran through his head. If only he had ghost powers, just one day with ghost powers, he'd make sure...
"Tucker...I'm sorry I showed you. I just didn't know what to do, and I couldn't show it to Danny or Sam, not right now..." Tucker looked up to see Jazz's guilty face. She was rubbing her thumbs together in a nervous motion.
His anger mostly disappeared, and he reached forward to quickly squeeze one of Jazz's hands; she needed to stop rubbing them like that. "No. Jazz...this isn't something you should keep to yourself." He let go, and looked down at the table, angry again for the pain that monster was causing his so called "sister." How dare he...!
Tucker sat up straight and spoke, keeping his voice low. "Let's go. We can talk in one of our cars." They got up and paid at the front desk, leaving the food behind. A few minutes later found them in Jazz's vehicle in the parking lot. They both sat with arms crossed, Tucker angry, Jazz pensive.
"I..."
"Well..."
They both paused, then Tucker spoke again. "Go ahead." He felt pretty sure about what this letter was- namely a pile of crud- but Jazz seemed less sure, and it was probably a good idea to test the waters with her.
Jazz spoke hesitantly. "I...something about this really bothers me." Tucker looked at her sidelong. She sat staring straight ahead, looking nearly as stressed and confused as when he walked in the restaurant earlier.
"You mean the fact that he's teamed up with Vlad? Or maybe it's the handwriting? Or it could be that horrible goatee...tasteless." Tucker spoke in sweet tones, the sarcasm just a hint underneath. He usually wasn't sarcastic at all, but somehow it was slipping out.
Jazz didn't respond immediately. "It's...Tucker..." Tucker watched as Jazz started to cry in a controlled, quiet way. It made him feel terrible. She mopped at her face a little with the sleeve of her sweater, and took a slow tense breath. "I want to..." Jazz stopped, looking afraid.
Tucker spoke quietly. "You want to..."
She looked down, embarrassed. "I want to believe him." She went on almost immediately. "Wait! Not...I don't trust him, but it's complicated." She suddenly sounded miserable. "And part of me wants to believe him."
Neither spoke for a moment. "Please don't tell Danny." She looked up at him, pleading. "He'd never understand, Tucker."
Tucker looked away, uncomfortable and upset. "I'm not sure I understand, Jazz. The guy's a murderer. He tried to kill us all, he's...he hurt Sam, and now he's teamed up with Vlad. I'm not seeing any positives here- and that letter was just a bunch of lies. He's probably learning from the master right now."
"I know." She still sounded miserable.
His jaw clenched. "But that doesn't change how you feel."
"No." Tucker looked out the side window, and frowned deeply. Sure, the way the letter was written tried to take everything you knew about this...Danny impostor...and turn it sideways, but that just meant Vlad was a fast teacher.
"We can't tell them about this. Not yet." Jazz's tone was firm, and Tucker looked back around. Her eyes were pleading. "Danny and Sam are finally getting close again, Tucker, and they deserve to be happy..."
"And this stupid letter will tear that apart. Again." If seeing Danny's handwriting bothered them, it would devastate Danny. He'd probably revert back to where he was months ago- a guilt ridden robot bodyguard. And he and Sam would both be miserable again. Tucker's hands tightened on his biceps at the thought. "But he's a danger Jazz, now more than ever since he's teamed up with Vlad of all people. I don't want to ruin things for them either, but..." He caught her eye, and faltered. She looked so miserable.
Jazz twisted sideways to face him suddenly, and leaned closer, putting her hands on his arm. Her voice, begging, was even higher than usual, and slightly wobbly. "Please, Tucker, now that I've shown you the letter, I know what we should do, and we shouldn't tell them about this yet! Everything's finally settled down again...Danny's finally calming down...and you've seen it, the way they look at each other! I just want their relationship to get a little more stable first, they deserve that time..."
Tucker interrupted, lips tight with his own distress and aggravation. He looked down at her without really looking her in the eye. He felt like the bad guy, but it didn't make sense to put everyone's physical safety after their emotional well being, however much he wished things were different. "Look Jazz, I understand that, but Danny's the one with the ghost powers. He's the only one who has a chance of really stopping his evil..." he stuttered, and scowled, "self, and when you factor Vlad in, there's just no way we can't tell him about this. Just think about the difference it could make, if Danny wasn't prepared..."
Jazz was scowling now too, and her tone was desperate. Her hands clenched Tucker's arm tightly. "I know! Please! Just trust me! If this blows up, I'll be more sorry than anyone, Tucker! But it won't. It won't." She leaned back again, and let his arm go, to look down at her hands. Tears were in her eyes.
Her voice grew soft. "You have to believe me. I just...we don't..."
Tucker spoke softly too, but anger laced his voice. "What? We don't have to worry, like the letter said? This is insane, Jazz. I thought you were smart."
There was a pause, and a sniffle. Tucker uncrossed his arms slowly, and looked down at his hands too. "Sorry." He pulled at his beret, twisting it around to cover his embarrassment. "I didn't mean that. But I don't understand where you're coming from. Can you explain at all?" He finally looked over at Jazz again, where she sat pensively staring into nothing.
"Well...I...it's intuition, sort of...but also..." She fiddled with a button on her shirt nervously, and a slight blush came to her cheeks. Tucker's eyebrows went up.
"But also...?" He kept his voice as low and calm as he could. This was obviously hard for her to say.
"He called me on the phone too." Tucker's eyes widened, and fear clenched his stomach. The guy was a maniac. What happened if he called her up again, and she made him angry? Could you say unexplained homicide at Yale?
Jazz went on. "I didn't know it was him, Tucker, and we...we talked for hours."
"So you thought it was Danny." His voice was a monotone.
"Yeah."
"When was this?"
"About a month ago. He was...so lost and upset when he called, and I went into older sister mode, trying to calm him down. And he ended up asking me, hypothetically..." Her blush deepened.
"Hypothetically..." Tucker felt the worry deepen.
"If I would be able to...forgive him. If he was his older future self." Her mouth curved into an unhappy smile, and a small exasperated laugh leaked out. It was too darkly ironic.
Tucker was staring at her outright, amazed, yet at the same time not surprised in the least. His mouth practically moved of its own accord. "And you said you'd forgive him, didn't you?"
"Yes. And that I'd still love him, too, I believe." She didn't look up. Another tear escaped. "And he...Tucker, he was so sweet, so...I knew he was too intense about it, but he's been going through a hard time, and you never know what's going to suddenly be important to a person..." She messed with her button for a moment. Tucker waited, feeling shocked. He had no clue what to say anyway.
Jazz, who was struggling with her emotions, finally continued. "I thought it was Danny. It...I don't know what he is, Tucker, but he can't just have only his memories, and talk to me like that, it's just not possible. But I know he's not Danny, there can't be two Dannys..." She hugged herself tightly, curling forward slightly, and Tucker watched in horror as she came completely undone.
Then she was yelling, but her voice was so thin and high from the heavy crying he could barely understand what she said. "It's not right! It shouldn't be possible! Why did this have to happen? It doesn't make sense for there to be two of them- what does that make him? He's not just some 'ectoplasmic manifestation' Tucker, he has feelings and emotions, he has Danny's memories...he thinks he's my brother..." Jazz's hands went to her face as her words became drowned in full blown sobbing. Tucker hesitantly placed a hand on her back, and she slowly calmed down enough to talk, though her hands stayed over her face. Her voice, when it came, was low and strained, and slightly hoarse.
"I love Danny, Tucker. He's my brother. And it hurts me to think of this other person who is some sort of strange...version of him who...what? What kind of existence has he had? It's..." She breathed in violently, in a sort of reverse sob. "You didn't talk to him, you didn't hear how he sounded. I've known Danny his whole life, and I couldn't tell it wasn't him. I can't write that off!" She rubbed her temples, and another tiny sob escaped. "But it's like all my worries about Danny are personified in this other him and his, his...un-life. And he's done so many horrible things, which is just too much to even think about, and...I'm ashamed of that. That he could be connected with our Danny, that...Danny could've turned into that." Jazz was silent for a moment. Then she started wiping the glistening tears from her cheeks with her sweater sleeves, even though tears still stood in her eyes. She let out a long mournful sigh, and went on speaking, her voice soft. "But I'm sorry for him too, Tucker. How can't I be?" She turned her head to look out the window, face somber.
Tucker tried to think of something to say. But this was bringing up so many things he didn't want to deal with. He had placed Danny's future self in a very neat compartment in his mind which didn't have anything to do with his Danny, his best friend. Jazz was right; it was painful to think of that other him as a real person. Too painful. He wiped surreptitiously at the corners of his eyes.
"Jazz..."
But his voice seemed to get her started again, not that he'd figured out anything to say yet.
"Have you thought about the psychology? I mean, he lost everyone, right? Could you imagine that?" Her voice was strangely contemplative and very quiet, as if she were talking to herself. "But...it was worse for him, because of his ghost powers. I mean, people lash out, they're sometimes violent...think about when you hear about a person who goes and kills someone who murdered their spouse, or something. And normally that person wouldn't kill, but they were so emotionally distraught..." She paused, as if lost in thought, and Tucker tried desperately to think of anything to say to make her stop this train of thought. But then Jazz kept going as if she hadn't stopped, and he sat helpless again, trapped by her quiet voice.
"A ghost is so much more dangerous than a human- just look at the havoc some ghosts wreck without even trying hard." A sad look briefly replaced her somber expression, and she sighed stoically. "Anger is a natural part of grief, you know. Denial, violence, even self mutilation." Tucker's clenched stomach did a nasty flip flop. What? "He's pure ghost, after all. And Danny says...he killed his human half." She tilted her head slightly, still staring out the window. "I take it back. That's not self mutilation, that's...suicide." Her voice was too controlled. It disturbed Tucker deeply. What she was saying disturbed him deeply.
"Jazz, r-remember he merged with Vlad's ghost, right? So I don't think you're seeing things right..." She looked momentarily shocked.
"You're right; I forgot." Jazz turned to him, frowning. "But I was talking to Danny on the phone, Tucker, not Vlad. I'm absolutely certain."
Tucker stared at her for a moment, completely taken off guard. This was not how she said it a minute ago! "Jazz! So he sounded like Danny. That doesn't make him Danny!" He looked away, angry at her, and angry that he'd raised his voice. "Stop talking like that. You're freaking me out." He glanced over to see a look of pain and uncertainty, more welcome than the unnatural detachedness from a moment ago, pass over her face.
Jazz leaned back after a moment, and propped an elbow up against the window frame of the car door, cradling her head in that arm. She closed her eyes, and another sniffle escaped. "I'm sorry Tucker, I'm just tired. And freaked out too. But..." she picked up her head to stare at him for a second, utterly serious, "what I said still goes. I don't want to tell Danny and Sam about this. Just...lets give it just a few weeks. Please."
Tucker shifted uncomfortably, and finally looked away. "Fine. But...if anything happens I'll never forgive you...or myself." He frowned deeply, and copied Jazz from earlier, rubbing his temples. "Look, I'm tired too, Jazz." He glanced down at his watch. "And it's already...almost seven thirty. And I'm actually getting hungry again since I didn't really eat earlier. So I'll talk to you lat..."
Jazz interrupted, sounding a little desperate. "Wait...let's get dinner for real this time. I mean, I didn't really eat earlier either." Tucker stared at her, surprised, and she looked down in embarrassment. "I really don't want to go home yet, Tucker. I just need some time to get my equilibrium back, and I'd rather not be alone, if you don't mind..." Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. "A-and Danny's working for another couple of hours, right? So it should be okay. He won't have to know you're hanging out with me, or anything." She looked up plaintively. "My treat?"
Tucker smiled lopsidedly; her puppy dog eyes were ridiculously pathetic. "Nah. We'll split it. But I get to choose the restaurant." He paused, feeling a little embarrassed himself. "And Jazz? I don't mind hanging out with you." He caught her eyes, and she slowly smiled at him for the first time that night. He found himself grinning. "You know what? We'll probably be best man and maid of honor at Danny and Sam's wedding someday."
The letter, already tucked away, was carefully forgotten for the rest of the evening.
Danny had transitioned from doing high school homework on Sam's roof at night to doing his calculus homework instead.
Well...occasionally. Most of the time, like tonight, he sat in relative comfort doing said homework at Sam's desk. It had become a welcome routine. The way Sam had put it, if he was going to be nearby every night guarding her, he might as well do it comfortably. It had given them a chance to get their friendship back together, too.
He sat at her desk now, at a little past midnight. They were both engrossed in their own activities; he in his calculus, her, sitting nearby on the bed, in what looked like a vampire book. Sam snorted, and covered her mouth in a half hearted attempt to muffle a laugh.
Danny leaned back, stretching, and decided it was time for a break. "What's so funny?"
She glanced over, still grinning. "Huh? Just this stupid book. I don't know why I bother reading this stuff." She threw the book down, and stretched her arms. "It's just hilarious- I'd love to see one of these authors come face to face with a real vampire. Assuming they exist, of course."
Danny grinned slightly. "Anything's possible, right?"
"Yeah." She grinned in response, then tilted her head thoughtfully, and raised her eyebrows. "You know who looks like a vampire? Vlad."
Danny snorted. "Nah, he looks more like a cross between a vampire and the devil. I mean, look at that hair! It comes to two points that look way too much like horns!" He paused, and adopted a thoughtful look. "I bet he gels it."
"What?" Sam did a double take, then burst out laughing, and Danny joined in quietly. Then she paused, grinning. "Actually...it probably takes a whole bottle every time, he has so much of it..." They both cracked up again, before calming down.
Sam flopped back on the bed, and groaned. "That's horrible." She looked over, expression overly serious, and her voice grew melodramatic. "Danny, I hate to say this, but...I don't...think...he gels it." He blinked at her as she threw an arm over her face and started laughing again.
"Sam, you're crazy..." He finally grinned himself. "I think you need to get to sleep for the night..."
She stopped laughing after a moment. "No, I don't. I'm not sleepy yet- just goofy. It's different." Still grinning, Sam got up and made her way over to Nathaniel's crib, where he lay snoozing. She bent down slightly, looking at him fondly. "Seriously though...I wonder why Vlad looks like he does? You look relatively normal, and you both went through the same radiation, right?"
Danny got up, stretching more, and came over to stand beside her, crossing his arms comfortably over his chest. "Yeah...I guess. Except his radiation was nastier- less pure. Maybe that's why." He stared down at Nathaniel, who was making cute little noises as the air whistled between his lips. "I wonder what it was like for him, when he first changed?"
"I'm thinking he screamed like a little girl." Sam grinned as Danny snorted involuntarily.
"That's not very nice, Sam."
She shrugged. "He's not nice."
"Can't argue there." He sighed softly, then grinned again. "He probably did scream like a little girl." They both cracked up, laughing quietly. Then they fell into silence, and Danny sighed contentedly. "Why are we talking about Vlad again?" He didn't really care, actually. He felt warm and happy, and very comfortable.
Sam explained. "The book I was reading, vampires...Vlad. Ta da." She paused. "New subject?" She smiled sideways at him.
Danny looked up at the ceiling, and tried to think of something. Unfortunately he immediately settled on the lovely girl he liked a whole lot, who was standing right next to him. His eyes widened as a light blush came to his cheeks, and he frantically tried to think of something else. Arg, why now?
"Um, shoelaces? I mean, or..." Danny looked at Sam sidelong. She seemed less than excited by his suggestion.
"Shoelaces." She crossed her arms, feigning annoyance, then broke into a grin, facing him fully. "What are you blushing about, Danny?"
The thought, unstoppable, rose up in him: this is the chance, ask her out now, this is it... He faced her suddenly, excited and nervous, and still blushing.
Their eyes locked, and the mood changed instantly. It occurred to them how close they were standing; close enough to feel each others' body heat.
Sam's heart fluttered at the look in Danny's eyes, and her light-hearted grin fell away. Those eyes drew her in; they were so bright, so intense...
This is it, he's going to finally ask me out! Sam felt her heart soar, and tried to keep the excitement from her face. She squashed the insane urge to check her hair, and held his gaze, eyes glowing.
"I..." Danny paused, and his mouth stayed half open. Sam could see him battling with fear. Then his face fell, and she felt the shift, saw the courage leave him...and the moment was gone. She glanced away, trying to hide her disappointment. Or not.
Danny took a little too long to move on, and the moment grew painful. He rubbed the back of his head, and looked back up at the ceiling. "Er...it was nothing. It was stupid, just..." He dropped off, swallowing hard, and tried to ignore how crushed Sam looked. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm such a loser... "It's not important." The words tasted bitter. "I...guess I should get back to the math. This is already kind of a long break." He cringed at the self loathing laced through his voice, and, feeling ashamed, avoided looking Sam in the face.
"Yeah, of course..." Sam wetted her lips almost convulsively, and nodded twice, looking anywhere but at him. She swallowed, and tried to think of something to say, then decided against it. She bit her lower lip, afraid it might start wobbling. I'm not going to cry over this. This is ridiculous!
Yet Sam found herself heading toward her bedroom door, feeling like a coward. As she neared it she turned around. "I'm kind of thirsty, Danny. I'll be right back." Her voice was too sweet, and her huge smile could've been plastic. She turned back around quickly and clumsily let herself out.
Danny stared at the door for a long moment, and then bowed his head.
The next morning found Danny walking slowly around town, lost in thought. He had given up studying fairly early last night, in favor of giving Sam her privacy while she slept, and had returned to lurking on her roof.
Of course, the truth was he couldn't concentrate on math, not after the horrible moment when he'd almost tried, and failed, to ask Sam out. He'd just frozen, the terror of rejection closing his throat like a vice, even as her eyes sparkled up at him, so excited. He'd only been able to think that he'd never see that look again, that she'd be horrified, that she'd tell him to leave. And never come back.
He'd known that wasn't right, almost as soon as the moment passed by. As soon as it was too awkward, too intense to set things right. She'd gone to get the water, and when she returned he'd suggested she needed her sleep, and had excused himself.
Then he'd sat up on the roof, thinking of the look that came into her eyes when it was clear he'd lost his nerve. That disappointed, pathetic, kicked puppy look...
He'd had time last night to figure out what had really happened. He'd been a coward! He'd freaked out when he tried to ask her out, which was bad enough. But then he'd been too afraid to set things right, and too overwhelmed with both his emotions and her reaction to think clearly, and had run away, up to the roof!
Danny hadn't slept- unless a half hour of tossing and turning in bed around dawn counted. Attempting to sleep only magnified how much he'd messed up in his mind. It was clear, now. Sam wanted him to ask her out! It was liberating, and humiliating, because he hadn't been able to see it, and now she was probably feeling completely, utterly horrible.
Danny had given up on sleep quickly, taken a shower, and had skipped breakfast to leave the house on foot with nothing on him but a cell phone and a watch.
He had to set things right. Today, this morning, before ten, he was going to call Sam up and ask her out.
He glanced down at his wrist for the hundredth time: it was 9:56 a.m.
He slowly stopped walking; the street was mostly empty because of the time of day, and the area of town. He had no excuse, and no time. This was it. Now or never. All or nothing. Sink or swim...
Danny hit his head a few times, softly. Calm down. He clenched his jaw twice, and slowly brought the cell phone to his ear. Sam's number was already ready to send.
Then he stood there, like a statue.
Arrrg! Just DO it! With that final burst of self outrage, he hit the send button. It felt strangely similar to the first few times he'd fallen from a distance, with malfunctioning ghost powers.
Pure terror.
The phone rang four and half times before she picked up. "Danny? What's up?" Sam sounded fine, but Danny knew better.
"Hey, Sam...would you..." He swallowed hard. I love you and I want to date you and marry you and spend my life with you...
"Danny?" Sam's voice piped up, sounding mildly amused.
"...consider...w-would you consider, um…"
"Yes!"
"…dating me?" Danny paused, did a double take, then just stood there smiling like an idiot.
Then he blinked. "Wait, you were saying yes to…"
"Yes, Danny!" He could hear her laugh elatedly over the phone. "Yes."
His smile immediately returned, twice as wide. This was pure bliss! It felt like a thousand Christmas mornings all at once, like his heart was overflowing with elation, amazement, pure joy. His dream was coming true, after everything, after suffering through the loss, the guilt...it was finally real! And somehow the knowledge that even a few months ago this had seemed so impossible made it all the more beautiful and precious.
Danny finally responded, though he could barely speak because his mouth refused to stop smiling, even for a moment. "Great." He took a deep breath, swallowed, and ran a hand through his hair hurriedly. "Um, want to go out tonight?"
"Yeah. Five o'clock?" Sam sounded amazing, so incredibly happy that it floored him. He knew he sounded ridiculously happy too.
"Yeah. S-sounds great. I'll...see you then." He hung up, and then just stood there, his whole body tingling with excitement. He was floating on a euphoric cloud.
After several moments Danny's mind finally caught up again. He had a date with Sam! Sam liked him! And she was dating him! He looked around him to make sure no one was around, then he turned invisible and rocketed up, up,up into the sky. I have a date with Saaaaaam!
Unlike most people, when he felt so happy he could just fly…he could!
I have a date with Sam!
It was the afternoon, and Sam had just finished breast feeding Nathaniel. She sat in her window armchair, drapes discreetly drawn, and held him as he fell asleep. The last day had been a roller coaster ride. The almost-question from last night, and then this morning...
She grinned, still ecstatic, and thought about how goofy Danny could be. Even when she'd known what he was trying to ask last night, it had still hurt -a lot- when he hadn't. But she'd had time to think, in the small hours of the night, and when he'd called on the phone that morning, she'd just known what he was trying to ask.
He'd probably stressed over it most of the night, just like she had. After that phone call Sam had pranced around for a few minutes, called Tucker to tell him the news, and then landed face first in bed to get much needed sleep. She'd only gotten back up a few hours ago, when Nathaniel had decided he was hungry again.
Sam grinned again as she stood up carefully, and took Nathaniel back over to the play pen. She had been on a few dates before, but nothing could compare to the excitement and joy she felt at the thought of spending tonight with Danny...on a date.
She hugged herself after putting down Nathaniel, and the slightly embarrassed thought briefly went by that her behavior right now was about as far from Goth as you got. Only high pitched squeals of delight could make it worse. This thought didn't phase her good mood one iota.
Sam, still grinning, walked over to her bed and plopped down on it, still lost in her own thoughts. It felt like she was moving slowly, in some euphoric haze. Her body had slowed down, allowing her mind to focus in on this moment of true happiness.
There was a small chink of uncertainty there, however. About an hour ago, Sam had asked her mom if she could babysit Nathaniel for a few hours tonight. This wasn't a problem, and wasn't too unusual, especially on a Friday. Her mom had said yes. Then she had asked what Sam would be up to, which was also a habitual question, quickly answered.
Then Sam had told her, in as off-hand a way as she could manage, and had made her escape a moment later.
The look on her mom's face had not been good. In retrospect, she probably should have found a way to break the news a little more gently. But still, Danny had been her friend forever. Her mom probably just needed some time for the change in their relationship to sink in. She hoped.
A knock at the bedroom door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in." Her mother appeared, and Sam's eyes widened at the negative wave of tension coming from her. Speak of the devil. She smiled, trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood. "Hey mom."
Her mother stared at her for a long moment. "Dear, we need to talk." Then she closed the bedroom door behind her and came to stand at the desk chair nearby. She looked at it for a moment, as if she was going to pull it out and sit on it. Then she turned, and made her way to Sam's bedside, where she sat instead, only a few feet away. She twisted to face Sam as directly as she could, then folded her hands. The look on her face made Sam cringe with apprehension. Her mother was nervous and a little afraid, but above all she looked deeply upset, almost angry. Sam sat waiting for her to speak, worries from a moment ago churning in her mind.
"Dear…I think you need to tell me who Nathaniel's father is." Sam paled. Her mother had avoided that question for months now, and she hadn't been expecting it.
"Mom, I told you, that's the one thing I really don't…"
Pamela interrupted, mouth tightening. "Now Samantha, let's be frank. You're infatuated with that Danny Fenton boy, and that's what got you into trouble in the first place!"
Sam did a double take. "I…what?"
Pamela went on, the distress in her voice palpable. "We're not stupid, dear! That boy obviously took advantage of you. He knew you had a crush on him, so he pressured you into doing things you shouldn't have." Her mother looked down at her hands, fretting worriedly, and her face turned guilty. That look was all that kept the shocked and outraged Sam from exploding.
"Your father and I should've looked after you more closely, Sammykins. I know how hard it can be when you're a teenage girl and the boy you like is showering you with attention…"
"Mom! That's not what happened! Danny's not like that!" Sam was sitting up straight now, incensed and afraid at the same time. No, no, you're so completely wrong.
Her mother looked back up suddenly, a glint in her eye. "But you're not denying he's the father, are you? You do know that we could demand a DNA check?"
Sam's eyes widened involuntarily, and though she caught herself a split second later, she knew her mother had all the proof she'd ever need that Danny was the father, however…not right that was. But a DNA test might actually support her mother!
"I thought so." Her mother sighed, and looked down at her hands again. "Sweetheart, we need to talk about him. I think you're seeing the world through rose colored glasses."
Sam frowned darkly, still angry and offended at what her mother had suggested. "I assume this is about our date?"
Her mother looked up, and grabbed her hands beseechingly. "Yes. Dear, I don't like it. He's already done so much damage, and now he wants to start dating you? You do know you're very attractive, don't you? And rich?"
"Mother…!"
Her mother dropped her hands, and turned away angrily, fists clenched. "He's already taken advantage of you once, and now he's realized he can marry you and, and loaf around on your money! It's not right, I don't want you to date him! I think he's…"
Sam sat up abruptly, grabbing her mother by the shoulders, angry and near tears at the same time. "Mother, stop! Stop. You're so wrong, you don't know him, you don't want to get to know him, and now you're saying horrible things about him and I refuse to listen to another word! I've known Danny almost my whole life! He's my best friend! And you know what? I love him! This isn't some schoolgirl crush!" She sniffled loudly, lower lip wobbling, and her voice dropped to a trembling croak as her emotions stole her voice. "And he cares about me too. And…I won't listen to you talk about him like that. I won't." She dropped her hands, looking down at her lap, and sniffled softly to herself. Her face felt burning hot.
Several moments passed.
"Sam…" Her mother's voice was quiet, subdued, but a tense emotion belonging to protective mothers everywhere still resonated in it. "Maybe…I'm wrong. I…I hope I'm wrong." Sam looked up slowly, and saw tears in her mother's eyes. "Dear, I'm just worried…you're m-my little girl…" Her voice wobbled, and she stopped talking. Sam could see her throat constrict, and blinked back her own fresh tears. She slowly leaned forward, and gave her mother a hug.
"Mom, I know you're worried." They stayed like that for a little bit, Sam rubbing her mother's back comfortingly, and they both calmed down a little. Sam sighed, and pulled back, grasping her mother's hands. She looked down at them; they were so similar to hers in size and shape.
It took another moment to get her voice under control, and it still wobbled a little. "Just…please give him a chance? Let him prove himself. I promise he won't let you down." She could feel her mother tense at her words, and a frightening moment passed slowly by.
But then her mother sighed slowly, and the tension left her frame again.
Pamela's gaze was focused on their intertwined hands as well. "Alright, Sam. I'll give him a chance. And…so will your father, I promise." She paused, pursing her lips in aggravation. "Besides, we've never been able to change your mind on anything when you really got set on it, so I know I won't change it now."
Sam smiled a little at that. "Nope."
Her mother finally looked up, her eyes twin daggers. "But I'll be watching him like a hawk. And I don't want any funny business happening between you two, do you understand? I know it's a little late, but…"
"Mom…"
Her eyes softened a little, the worry from earlier returning. "But, a boy who really loves you should be willing to wait for some things, Sammykins." Her tone grew harder. "So this time around he'd better…"
"Mom! He'll be an absolute gentlemen, believe me. And I know you don't believe me, but he really is a complete innocent in all this."
They looked at each other, her mother with skeptic's eyes, and Sam with complete sincerity. Pamela tilted her head, still not convinced.
"Well, promise me that nothing with happen."
Sam blushed slightly. "Nothing will happen." Things weren't perfect, but if her mom really thought Danny was the father, Sam was happy she was even considering him...
Her mother frowned angrily. "Well if anything does, your father and I are going to go over to that boy's house with a sledgehammer…"
"Mother!"
"Well, a very good lawyer, then." She crossed her arms, looking completely serious.
A little too serious. Sam couldn't help but smile, and as soon as she did she was laughing out loud, unable to resist. He mother broke down into a slight smile, but she managed not to laugh.
She raised her eyebrows, trying to save face. "I'm completely serious, Sammykins."
Sam rolled her eyes. "I know. Believe me, I know."
A moment passed in silence, and then her mother got up from the bed. "Well, I suppose I should let you start getting ready. He's coming here at five o'clock, isn't that right?" She glanced over at the clock. "That's only…an hour away." She forced a smile, but Sam could see worry and uncertainty still bubbling below the surface. Her mother turned to leave.
Sam stared after her, feeling disappointed. "Mom! Wait."
Her mom stuck her head around the door frame, frowning slightly. She looked a little sad. "Yes dear?"
"Would you…mind helping me with my hair?"
The look in her mother's eyes made everything right again. "Really? You almost never let me…"
Sam tried to keep the grin from her face. "Yeah, well, you have some cool stuff you do sometimes. Just…nothing too frilly, okay?"
"Well, I think I can handle that..." Her mother let herself back in, and bustled over to Sam's bathroom to get supplies.
Danny was wearing his nicest pair of slacks- a midnight blue color- and a white button down shirt, neatly pressed. The dress jacket he also wore was slightly big, but the color, another shade of dark blue, blended well with the pants. Besides, he needed the jacket because he also wore a tie, which was a pale blue (to match his eyes), and shiny black dress shoes, courtesy of a last minute run to the mall by Jazz.
Yeah. His mom and sister had dressed him, and he was grateful. He actually looked pretty good, he thought. And a lot nicer than if he'd done the choosing, for sure.
Then there were the roses. Maddie and Jazz had debated over it, and had finally decided white was best for a first date. Danny had argued- briefly- but had given in, especially when Jazz came back (she had combined errands) with a dozen white roses, tinged at their budding tips with pale orange, wrapped up in deep, deep blue shimmery paper, almost black. The effect was lovely, and striking. Sam would love them.
He stood with them now in his right hand, in front of her doorstep, nervously waiting for someone to answer. Several things were only now occurring to him. What if she was dressed casually? That would be embarrassing! Or what if her mom or dad answered the door? In fact, her parents terrified him, and now, with the roses, he'd probably have to wait around while they found a vase or something...
Then the door opened, and Danny stopped worrying.
Sam wore her hair up, which left her slender neck bare, except for a simple, elegant necklace. which seemed to draw his gaze down. She wore a shimmery miniature jacket, dark green and transparent, over a a sleek short sleeved dress, which was black. It fell to just below her knees, and flared out at her hips, which accented her beautiful figure.
"Hey." Her voice jolted him, and his eyes fell to her shoes, also black, in embarrassment. Then he looked back up, blushing, and suddenly nervous for entirely different reasons.
"Hey." He swallowed. She was smiling shyly, a soft blush on her cheeks, and her eyes glowed. Danny was transfixed, caught by the look in her eyes more than by anything else about her, and he followed her gaze as it drifted down to his right hand. Then his mind caught back up.
"H-here." He held the roses out, and she took them, smelling them carefully.
"They're beautiful."
"I...not..."Not as much as you. His blush deepened, the words too hard to say, and Danny looked down, smiling sheepishly. "I'm glad you like them."
Sam backed up slightly, her smile growing hesitant. "I should put these in water..."
Danny nearly did a double take as Sam's mother appeared from behind the door frame and placed her hand lightly on Sam's forearm.
"I'll take care of these, dear." She spared him a polite glance, then smiled at Sam, who smiled back, looking grateful.
It was a little stunning. Where was the death glare? It was then that he noticed Sam's father, standing quietly by the stairs. His face was somber, and his eyes stared into Danny's, quietly searching.
Sam's mother's voice came low and soft, drawing Danny's attention back. "Mr. Fenton, I expect that you'll to be a perfect gentlemen tonight." Her tone, though non-threatening, was still subtly intense. She stared up at him intently, and Danny couldn't look away.
Then, thankfully, she turned to Sam, and kissed her carefully on the cheek. "Sweetheart, have a wonderful time. Be back before twelve?" Her eyes were a little too bright, and Danny found himself looking away. He felt like an intruder.
"Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem, Mom." Sam's voice was a little too intense, and Danny could see her from the corner of his eye as she moved forward for an impromptu hug.
Then he felt someone's eyes on him, and his own gaze was drawn back to the silent figure by the stairs. Sam's father was watching him again, with a slight frown on his brow, and Danny nodded to him hesitantly, wishing he could communicate how much Sam meant to him. Her father's chin dipped slightly, but Danny couldn't decide if it was a nod or something else.
Then Sam put her hand gently on his forearm. "Come on." He stared down at her radiant face for a moment, before slowly smiling back.
It was unbelievable, but it looked like Sam's parents were giving him a chance. Another weight Danny hadn't known he was carrying silently left his shoulders, and he stood just a little straighter.
Then he turned, and stepped back so that Sam could step through the front door ahead of him. He followed her out, then bent his left arm at the elbow and offered it to her. She took it, a slight look of surprise melting into happiness.
Then Danny turned slightly, and gave Sam's parents a tiny but unmistakable bow. He turned back to Sam, whose mouth was slightly open, and led her gently forward.
"Your hair looks really pretty."
Sam held his arm a little tighter, and he could feel the happiness coming from her.
"My mom fixed it. It's called a French twist." Danny grinned wryly, and found that he wasn't surprised. When they got to his car, he opened the passenger door for her, helped her in, and closed it back before heading to the driver's side.
Now, even more than before, he was determined to do things by the book, and prove to Sam's parents that he had nothing but love and respect for their daughter. He would become the living example that proved chivalry was not dead.
The Box Ghost was on the prowl for his favorite thing. Boxes! And he didn't want any old box, he wanted something special to mark his bold defiance of the powerful halfa Danny Phantom.
So he was prowling one of Amity's richer neighborhoods. The Phantom lived several streets away (it was one of the few specific locations the Box Ghost was certain of) so he shouldn't have to fear any retribution...while boldly defying the halfa. In secret.
"I fear not your scary ghost catching device..." His voice was barely a whisper as he wandered through the walls of a particularly nice house.
Then he saw something special. It was a huge box! The squareness of it was astounding, the regularity...
He had rarely scene such a boxy box. It was perfect.
He glanced around. There were people in the other room eating, but if he was careful they probably wouldn't notice...
The Box Ghost floated forward, grabbing the large grey box, and made off into the night.
Author's Note: Was it clear that he just took off with Nathaniel's playpen? Because he did. Dum dum dum...