Danny's POV
I woke up with Sam in my arms around six in the afternoon. She was still sleeping peacefully and there was no sign that my parents had come back. I pulled away her hair from her face and smiled at her sleeping form, wondering how I had gotten so lucky that she had come into my life again.
"It's not going to last you know." A voice snapped next to me. A black haired, yellow eyed boy sat next to my bed, his arms crossed and he was pouting.
"I defeated you." I said in a whisper. D rolled his eyes and pointed up, phasing out of the room to where he pointed. I sighed, knowing I had to go after him. I gently pulled out my IV, somehow got out of bed without waking up Sam, pulled on a pair of black sweats and a white t-shirt, and followed him.
"What do you want?" I growled, ecto energy glowing in my hands. D sat down on the ground and gazed up at the afternoon sky. I noticed my parents walking into the hospital and panicked. That's not good.
"Can I tell you something?" He asked, sounding sincere. I sat down next to him. "Sure whatever. You seem powerless. Not like you could hurt me anyway." I snapped.
He rolled his eyes and looked at me. "Now that all my depression is gone, I feel really bad for what I did to you, okay? I had no other emotions except anger and sadness and I wanted it all to go away. So I made kids kill themselves and join me in an eternity of servitude. Now all of them moved on and I'm alone." His face scrunched up in remorse.
"My own family hates me now." He said, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You just told me that my relationship with Sam wasn't going to last." I deadpanned. He looked once again at the sky, taking a deep breath. "When you kissed Sam, she didn't feel the exact same as you. She went after you, because she knew it may be a better way to fix you. She wouldn't even deny it when I confronted her about it." He told me.
I froze and blinked at me. "...what?"
"I didn't want to tell you. I don't want to tell you anything that could hurt you anymore, but I wanted you to know the truth." D said.
"Depre-" I was cut off by an angry glare. "My name is Dylan Smith. Please call me Dylan." He hissed. I flinched out of habit and sighed. "Dylan...how do I know you aren't lying?" I asked. "You don't, but I've never lied to you before." He nodded.
He got up and went to fly away. "Look," I started, making him pause, "If you even need someone to talk to...I'm here. You can't keep putting emotions on other people. Talk about them. Apologize to your family. They'll forgive you. Maybe when they do, you can move on." I told him.
He didn't look back at me, but I could see the small smile on his face as he flew away. I sat on the roof for a little bit, thinking about what D had said. "I'll ask Sam about it." I decided, phasing back into my room where no one was at, but there was a panic spreading through the hospital. "Have you seen Danny Fenton recently?" I heard Sam ask. "I'm right here." I said, standing in the hallway.
Everyone sighed in relief, before an angry Jacklyn made her way over to me, pushing me onto my bed and reattaching the IV. "Don't do it again." She warned, making her way out of the room. The doctor winked at me and pulled out the IV again. "You don't really need it anymore. Jacklyn is just playing it safe." Johnson said. I nodded and looked at Sam, who was relieved and angry.
"I don't know what you were thinking young man." Mom said. I sighed. "Ghost problem." I muttered. They nodded and looked at me in concern. "Who was it?" Tucker asked. "No one that was a problem." I said, annoyance lacing my tone. "Sam, can I talk to you?" I asked. Everyone left the room immediately, seeing that I was angry.
"...What?" She asked in a quiet tone. I fiddled with my shirt, trying to find the words. The more I thought about it, the more angry I felt. "When I kissed you the first time, in the park, exactly how did you feel? And don't you dare think about lying to me." I said, testing her. She paled slightly and sighed.
"...I don't know...I knew that you were hurting and might have been confused, so I made myself go after you. I didn't want to, because I felt that I would be taking advantage of you, but I thought that I could….you know." She trailed off. My face must have been hurt, because she stopped.
"You wanted to what?" I asked, my voice breaking. "...Fix you." She muttered, looking down at the palms of my hands.
I shot a hurt look at her, before my face became angry and I glared. "So you are exactly like Stella." I snapped, getting up out of bed. "Danny, please! You don't understand!" She pleaded, following me out in the hallway. I stomped away, my feet stinging with the intensity. I ignored all of the doctors telling me I should be resting and made my way into the waiting room, and outside. "Daniel Fenton, You-" "I got it Mr. Fenton." Sam's tired voice said. I ignored her, feeling more angry.
"Danny, you can't run away from me!" She screamed at my rushed body. Nobody was outside right now and the sun was starting to set. "Why shouldn't I?" I yelled back, pausing but not turning around.
"Because I'm pregnant, god dammit!" She screamed, her voice becoming angry. I stopped, turning around sharply and my eyes wide. "You are what." I whispered, my voice a high pitched squeal. "I'm pregnant...or at least there is a big change I am." She said, looking down at her feet then back at my eyes.
I blinked.
"Are you going to say anything?" She asked worriedly. I pulled my mouth into a tight line, my eyes still wide, and replied, "I don't know if I can."
"...I can't do it without you." She said, her voice tired.
"Is it mine?"
"Of-fucking-course?" Sam snapped. "What did you think I did while you were asleep? Fucked around? Fuck you!" She screeched. "Woah, woah, wait, what the hell? I didn't mean it like that!" I snapped back.
"Sure as hell sounded like it!" She snapped going to get into her car. "Wow, what a child!" I yelled at her car.
"Fuck you."
"Already did!" I screamed, ignoring her huff of annoyance. I stomped back into the hospital, my parents staring at me in suspense. I took some deep breaths when it hit me.
"Holy shit." I whispered. "What?" My dad asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "hoLY SHIT." I screamed, my legs feeling weak and falling to the ground.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Tucker asked, my family standing over me as the doctors came over with a wheelchair. "He must have overexerted himself. We have to make sure he didn't worsen any of his injuries."
"HOLY SHIT." I screamed again as I was put into the chair. My family was smirking in amusement, but their eyes were worried. "Are you going to tell us what's wrong?" They asked, following the doctor, who was rolling me back to my room.
"I don't know if I can? Sam's pissed, I was pissed, now I'm kinda scared, nervous, and I kinda need to throw up." I said, probably look a bit green. "Don't dO THAT." Tucker screeched as I got up a puked into a trashcan.
"What the hell did she do, drug him?" Jazz asked. My mom's eyes widened in realization. "She told him! Danny, where is she now?" She asked. I looked at her with a sheepish grin.
She glared. "What did you do." She snapped. "I may have offended her?" I laughed. She hit me upside the head and Jacklyn froze as she hissed something that sounded like "He's concussed!"
My mom pulled me into my room. My eyes felt a bit droopy from over-exertion and I felt like I was going to faint. "What did you say?"
"I asked if it was mine." I said simply, feeling more and more lightheaded.
"Of course it was, you dumb!" She hissed. I smiled nervously and started to breathe in and out more and more often. "Oh god." I mumbled, feeling dizzy. Jacklyn waited outside the door. "Mrs. Fenton, it seems he may be having a panic attack." She whispered.
"Sam's pregnant." I wheezed.
I blacked out.
…
"...wake up sometime soon?" I heard a voice. I stifled a groan and squeezed my eyes, trying to blink them open.
"We don't know why he fainted, or why he's been asleep for this long. It's like he slipped back into the coma." I heard another voice say. I opened my eyes to the bright lights of my hospital room. I was hooked back into my IV and my muscles ached.
"Mom?" I whispered, my throat hoarse. "Oh thank god." I heard her say, and I smiled weakly. I yawned. "What time is it?" I asked, trying to lift my arm to my eye to rub it, but found I couldn't move. I felt really weak.
"It's ten a.m." She said, her voice sad. "...what day is it?" I asked. She sighed. "You've been asleep for another week. You fainted and then didn't wake up. Is there anything you want?" She asked. I lifted myself on weak arms to sit up. I could tell by their faces that I looked really sick.
"...I want to go home." I whispered, hugging my knees to my chest. She nodded and looked at the doctors who shrugged. "We are just going to take a blood test and see what's going on and then we can send you home with a nurse checking up on you everyday." I nodded weakly, and Jacklyn took my blood, then set me up in a wheel chair. My dad wheeled me out to the car and put me inside. I rested my head against the window, glad to be going back home.
I cleared my throat as my dad pulled onto the road. "Is Sam okay?" I asked, weakly. Mom turned and looked at me. "She's worried. We all were. She's waiting at home... you missed her birthday." She whispered. I closed my eyes, hitting my head on the window.
I'm just fucking up all over the place, lately.
"I'm gonna be okay, right?" I asked. Mom froze but nodded. "As soon as they get test results back, they will know for sure." She smiled weakly.
"What did they tell you?" I asked, swallowing thickly. I was really thirsty. She sighed. "They think it may be some type of cancer from the ecto-radiation levels that emit from you every time you transform." She whispered.
My eyes widened. "I don't have cancer!" I snapped weakly. She held her hands up. "I don't think you do either. The test will tell us for sure."
The rest of the car ride was quiet. Did I have cancer? I couldn't. I had to be there for Sam. I thought about other possibilities of what could be wrong with me. When I woke up the first time, I was always really tired, falling asleep when I probably should be energized. I was definitely weak now and was really thirsty.
Dad pulled into the driveway, making sure to block the hundreds of paparazzi. What? "Who are all these people?" I asked. Mom rolled her eyes. "They are reporters wanting to know of your condition. I guess they get to know today." She sighed. "I wish they would leave us alone." She muttered, thinking I couldn't hear her. I felt a lot of guilt when she said that.
Because I caused them to be here.
Dad got into the back, and I heard screams when he pulled out the wheelchair. "Did Mr. Phantom pull through?" One asked.
"Is he okay?"
"Is he spending his final moments at home?"
They all asked numerous questions and it was pissing me off. I growled in annoyance as I was taken from the car and put into the wheelchair. Now that I was visible to the public, pictures were being snapped of me and reporters were directing questions my way. As my dad struggled to roll the wheelchair past them, I tapped into my ghost energy.
I stood up, glowing slightly because my ghost powers were literally keeping me standing right now, and shouted. "Listen up!" Everyone quieted. My mom glared at me from my side but I ignored her.
"I'm fine, I'm not dying and I'm going to be okay. I woke up from a basically three week long sleep and just got home, so I don't want to hear shit from you guys until I say. Now can you get into your stupid ass vans and leave me the fuck ALONE!" I shouted, watching in satisfaction as they rushed to their vans and left. I felt dizzy again and sat back down, shaking my head.
"You could've been nicer." Sam's voice said from the doorway, a small smile on her face. "Sam, could you set him up in his room, please?" My mom asked, taking Dad's arm and leading him into the kitchen, where I knew they were talking about me.
"What's up, buttercup?" I muttered weakly. She laughed slightly, her eyes shiny with tears. "I'm sorry." I whispered as she hugged me. "I should be sorry. I made you faint. If you don't want to keep it, we don't have to." She said, but I knew in her eyes that wasn't what she wanted.
"So you know for sure?" I asked as she suddenly picked me up bridal style and carried me up the stairs. "You know I can probably walk on my own, right?"
"Nah. You look like shit. And yeah, I know for sure. Doctors tested me professionally." She explained, finally getting to the top of the stairs and letting me lean on her and walk. "...I'm nervous." I admitted. She nodded. "I know." She whispered. I put my arms on her waist and kissed her softly, letting her lean me against the doorway and run her finger through my hair.
"Sam, can you wait? He should be in bed." My sister's voice nagged. I groaned and pulled away, glaring in her direction. "I just got home, can I kiss my girlfriend?" I asked.
"Do you remember being mad?" Jazz asked, ignoring the sharp glare from Sam.
"I forced myself to run after you, because I thought I could fix you." Sam's voice rung true in my mind, but I didn't care.
"Yes. But I also remember that she's pregnant and it is mine. Sorry by the way." I grinned lovingly at her. She giggled and nodded. "It's okay." She laughed. "Sorry for making you faint and fall asleep for a week." I shrugged, feeling abnormally tired. She saw this and gently laid me down on my bed, which was comfortable and had Sam's mattress on it.
"Did you move in?" I asked weakly as she pulled up the black comforter. She nodded, winking. "I decorated it more suited to my tastes." She smirked.
I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.
…
I woke up several hours later to the voices of my worried family members downstairs. I already felt better due to resting, so I got up and sat down at the top of the stairs, listening into the family meeting I wasn't invited to.
"Danny is really sick. Doctors say that if it is cancer, they will give a two month estimate on how long he's gonna live." My mom explained. I rolled my eyes. I knew it wasn't going to be cancer.
"So what do we do when the test results come back?" Sam asked worriedly. "If it's what the doctors think, then we lie. We lie until he dies." Mom said. I gasped quietly. That was really their plan of action, somethings never change.
I bit my lip and went into the bathroom. Dylans hold on me maybe gone, but all those feelings I felt before were still there. For the first time in a long time, I felt like cutting.
It was my fault that my parents were like this. My fault Sam was pregnant. My fault Jazz is getting a D in psychology because I can't stay better. A tear fell down my face. "It's all my fault." I sniffed, sliding down the wall, letting myself cry. I decided to take a shower, then they could know that I was awake and they could wrap up their meeting.
I turned on the water to a lukewarm temperature and stepped out of my clothes. I stepped under the water and took a shower for the first time in weeks. I washed my hair and my body and made sure to get really clean and smell nice. I eyed Jazz's razor.
One cut won't hurt.
I took her razor and stepped on it, figuring she had extras. If not, I'll replace it with one of mine. They all look the same. I picked up one of the tiny blades that could do so much damage and brought it to my skin.
The last time I cut in the shower, I almost died. My first techincal 'suicide attempt'. I hissed as I dug the razor into my skin, making a deep slit across the skin. The blood that blossomed out was quickly washed away from water. I made another, then another, until I felt better about being guilty. My arm was red and irritated, but I felt blissful, and complete.
Why did I ever stop doing this?
I got out of the shower, hid the razor in my hand, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I threw away the fragments of Jazz's razor and picked up the other blades. Sam and Tucker had thrown away my old ones, so I might as well work up another stash. It's going to be hard to cut with Sam living with me, but I'll just do it in the shower.
I'll tell her the bandages are from ghost fights.
If she wants to lie, I'm going to lie right back. I went into my room, hurrying because the blood was starting to leak faster from my wounds. I closed and locked the door, drying the blood with a towel and wrapping up my wrists with practiced ease. I pulled a short sleeved, white t-shirt and some black sweatpants, then looking at the blood stained towel.
How am I going to explain that?
Thinking quick, I grabbed a blade and made a cut inside my nose, making it bleed. I nodded as the blood flowed from the wound, near my upper lip, and held the towel up to my nose.
Perfect.
I stepped out of my room and down the stairs, coming up to my family.
"My nose is bleeding." I said, scaring my mom, who paled at the sight of the towel. "How?" She asked.
"I tripped and fell out of the shower and landed on my face." I explained as she inspected the nose.
"Yeah, its definitely bleeding. Keep the towel on it. I'll just throw that away later...why are your wrists wrapped up?" She asked quietly, making everyone focus on me.
"I'm really insecure about the marks on them...I don't want to flaunt them and it's too hot to wear long sleeves." I said awkwardly. She nodded and hugged me. "If that's what you want to do, you can. I won't stop you." She said, patting my cheek and smiling.
I smiled back, feeling guilty again. I bit my lip and went into the living room. Sam went upstairs to, I assume, take a shower. I sighed and sat down on the couch, listening to my family members start to do their nightly routines.
"Really?" D's voice hissed, his form appearing. "Get out of my house." I mumbled, turning on the TV. "You cut yourself in the nose so that they wouldn't know you cut yourself?" He asked, looking angry.
"You are being a hypocrite." I said, rolling my eyes. "I feel bad for everything that I did for you, and before I move on, I gotta get you to break these habits." His eyes narrowed. "Tell them how you are feeling." He nodded.
"I'll be here to talk, and to keep a close eye on you. Seems like everyone in this house is too stupid to notice when you are falling off the wagon." He rolled his eyes.
"Cameron and Frank forgave me, and I came to tell you I was moving on, but now I'm not. I can survive here until you get to the point to know you are okay. I don't want you to end up like me." He nodded, a small smile on his face before phasing out. I sighed.
"Hey little brother?" Jazz's voice said from the kitchen. My legs started to hurt as I went to her, leaning heavily on the counter.
"Yes?" I asked quietly. She smiled warmly. "What do you want for dinner?" She smirked, holding up a wooden spoon. I looked away and didn't answer her question, crossing my arms. "Danny?" She asked worriedly, all humor away from her face. Great.
"Do you want to know what I really want, Jazz?" I asked. She nodded. I took a deep breath. "I want you to forget about everything that I'm going through. I want you to go back to Harvard and become the psychiatrist that you've always wanted to be. I want my family to stop worrying so much. I want Sam to stop thinking she has to keep things from me. I want you to stop lying to me." I breathed heavily for a second, my vision swimming.
I could hear everyone else gathering in the entryway. "I want you to tell me the truth when the doctors say what I have. If I have two months to live, I die in two months. No use in keeping it from me, I'm going to know sooner or later. I'm so sick and tired of being treated like I'm made of paper, that even one wrong word would send me back to the hospital, and that'd I'd never wake up.
Tomorrow, Jazz, pack up your shit and go get an education. I am holding you back and it makes me feel bad and you know I do bad things when I feel guilty." I swallowed. I would probably have to tell them about me cutting. Fuck.
"In return….I won't lie to you guys," I mumbled, watching as my family stepped closer and Jazz looked close to tears, "I didn't have a nosebleed, okay? Well, I did but it was forced. I could hear you talking about how you were going to lie to me about me not being sick until I died. I felt guilty because everyone was being held back. So I did something stupid. I'm not going to say it, because I already feel like maiming my entire body at the moment so I'll pass on that.
That's my offer. I'll let you guys sleep on it, or something." I finished, walking past them and out the door, not caring that I didn't have shoes on. I walked away from my house and into the park, sitting down on a bench. "Was that hard?" A curious voice said to my left. Dylan was sitting next to me, his hood down and sleeves rolled up.
"I felt like I was going to explode or cry the entire time." I nodded, swallowing around the burning in my throat that I always get when I hold in tears. "It was hard." I whispered, closing my eyes and letting a single tear flow in between my eyelids.
"...I couldn't have done what you did." Dylan said. "I couldn't have told them that I heard them talking to me, or that I cut myself because of it. I wouldn't have told them that even just telling them that I had made me want to cut myself more. You are way stronger than I could ever be." He sighed. I couldn't see him, but I felt him shift. If I opened my eyes, I would start crying. I didn't want to cry anymore.
"I'm going to get better." I whispered, my voice sad. I opened my eyes, a few more tears falling, and I hugged my body. "They are probably worried about you." D offered. I shrugged. "I have places I can go…" I whispered, getting up and starting to walk towards one of the only friends that would understand me.
Jack Overland.