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fangirlwriting-stories · 7 months

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First Blood

Summary: Danny should have expected that he wouldn't be able to do this ghost fighting thing by himself forever. Though admittedly, he didn't expect things to go quite like this.

Author's Note:

My brain: Hey you should write a Danny Phantom AU

Me: Wtf? Why?

My brain: I wanna

Me:

Anyway I do partly blame this fic on AO3 by artistfingers for giving me the inspiration.

…

He’d meant to tell them, was the thing. It was entirely a coincidence that they weren’t there when it happened in the first place.

Sam had been the one to first have the idea of checking out the ghost zone, even if Danny had been desperately curious before that too. But she’d been the one to convince him to try it, and he’d even gotten into the suit his parents had designated for this purpose (thankfully with a thought from Sam to pull his Dad’s face off his chest), but before he could actually go in the portal and turn it on, Sam’s parents showed up and dragged her and Tucker home.

They had never been the biggest fans of Danny or his parents, and weren’t super happy when they learned Sam was there. Tucker had tried to protest against getting dragged along, but Sam’s parents kind of had a presence you couldn’t stand up to for very long, so they’d both left eventually.

But Danny was only more desperately curious after almost going in, and he couldn’t know when his parents would both be out like this again. So, he’d gone back an hour later and turned the portal on. And then…

Well.

Then he’d started trying to come up with a way to say “hey guys I’m sort of half ghost now” without sounding like a total lunatic.

And then the ghost fights had started, and Danny Phantom became well known before Danny Fenton could come up with a way to explain it to them. And then he didn’t want them to get hurt. The fights were hard enough on him, and he had superpowers.

He’s… definitely regretting that decision now. He should have known eventually he’d come across something he couldn’t defeat on his own, for one reason or another. But he’d always assumed if that came up it would be a ghost that was just too powerful, and he could ask someone for help. Hard to do that when the problem is an evil but human ringmaster with a ghost-controlling crystal ball. Admittedly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

He’s not quite sure what’s going on when he comes to, but the crystal ball is shattered in pieces at his feet and the other ghosts he’s become familiar with are blinking in the space across from him. Freakshow himself is in between them all, staring at the crystal ball like he’s trying to process what’s happening.

Danny’s doing the same thing. This isn’t Amity Park, that’s clear enough, but he doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know what’s just happened, though he has a vague memory of an overwhelming sense of anger giving him enough force to throw the crystal ball to the ground.

“You know,” Freakshow says, looking up with a terrified grin. “When I called you, uh, ‘minions,’ it was really a term of endearment, like, ‘Oh, I love my minions!’”

Danny scoffs, meets eyes with the other ghosts, and finds them in agreement.

They drag Freakshow to the haul he’s made them all put together, call the cops, and fly off into the night.

But while the three of them go who-knows-where, Danny changes forms and heads for a grocery store or a gas station, any place where he can find a newspaper and hopefully figure out the date or his location. Preferably both.

…It’s been weeks. It’s been weeks and he’s halfway across the country.

Danny sits on the ground outside of the gas station and drops his head in his hands. The homework alone is going to be a nightmare.

His stomach growls. He’s been in his ghost form for who knows how long, and it’s probably been just as long since he ate, but he doesn’t have any money on him.

So, in a move he’s not exactly proud of, he steals a couple apples and bags of chips from the gas station and practically inhales them. He sits on a bench for another hour or so before he realizes he probably can’t put off the inevitable anymore.

He switches forms again and starts flying home.

He’s pretty fast at this point, so it takes him no more than a couple hours to get there, but he has no idea what he’ll find when he arrives. The past couple weeks get blurrier the closer the time gets to the present, but he has the feeling he’s done some bad stuff. He doesn’t know what his public image in Amity Park is anymore, but he has an inkling it’s not exactly great.

And that’s just the Phantom side of things. He’s going to have to deal with the Fenton side first, and that almost sounds worse.

First, however, he’s exhausted, and still hungry, and he can’t deal with this tonight. So he resigns himself to worrying everyone for one more night, grabs some stuff from the fridge, and flies silently up to his bedroom. He eats handfuls of whatever food he grabbed with his back to the door, and then leans back against it and breathes, taking in the feeling of at least being home.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem he’s going to get even a night of reprieve, because the next second someone bangs on the door he’s leaning against, and he splays forward on the ground with a surprised yelp.

He turns to see Jazz forcing the door open. She freezes when she sees Danny, and for a couple seconds, they stare at each other.

“Uh,” Danny says. “Hi?”

Jazz blinks. “Hi?”

Danny swallows. “Yeah?”

Jazz balls her hands into fists and glares at him. “Where have you been?”

“Um.”

Jazz buries her hands in her hair and pulls on it, giving a frustrated scream. “Danny! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

“Sorry,” Danny mutters, not sure what else to say. He still has no idea what’s happened the past few weeks.

Jazz runs her hands over her hair, smoothing it down, and takes a deep breath. Then she kneels down and pulls Danny into a crushing hug.

“Why would you run away like that?” Jazz says, but there’s something else in her voice, like she’s trying to get at something. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you want to—” she pulls back, and looks Danny in the eyes with a very pointed expression. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, her voice suddenly very soft and gentle.

Danny stares at her for a second, not sure where the sudden shifting emotions from her came from. Either way, he shakes his head. He doesn’t even know what he’d say. He’s going to have to come up with some kind of story, but how is he supposed to do that without contradicting something he doesn’t remember happening?

“Are you sure?” Jazz says, still looking at him intentionally, and Danny does not understand what she’s trying to say. He’ll blame the exhaustion and brain fog.

Jazz sighs, and pulls him back into a hug. “Okay. But you’re going to have to explain to Mom and Dad why you’ve been missing for weeks. Uh… for exactly three weeks and four days, as we both know very well of course. And you’ll also have to explain why no one knows anything at all about where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing— as far as I know that is.”

Danny pulls back and gives her a baffled look. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Excuse me! You’re the one who runs away for, just to reiterate, exactly three weeks and four days to an unknown location, and you’re asking me why I’m being weird?”

Danny stares at her. “Uh, I mean I kind of am now?”

“I can’t believe you!” Jazz exclaims, waving her arms up without actually looking that exasperated. Then she leans forward and wraps her arms around Danny again.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she whispers, with a suspicious sniff that Danny doesn’t acknowledge. “Please don’t scare me like that again.”

Danny reaches up and wraps his arms weakly around her. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, which is all he can say, because he can’t exactly guarantee that nothing like this will happen again, can he?

For a minute, they both just sit there, and Danny tries to ignore how good it feels to be hugged by his sister, because that’s a totally lame realization to have, and he doesn’t need any more reasons for people to beat him up.

But then another familiar voice comes from behind them.

“Jazz? What are you doing up—”

Danny jerks around and meets eyes with his mother, who stares wide-eyed back at him.

After a second, she turns and screams, “JACK!” then rushes forward and pulls Danny towards her.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She takes his face in her hands, turning it back and forth. “What were you thinking, you’re grounded for a month! You look terrible, when did you eat last? When did you shower? Do you have any idea how worried sick we were? I’m never letting you out of my sight again! Was it ghosts? What can you tell us about them?”

Danny laughs despite himself. His mom is being so incredibly normal (well, normal by her standards) that it immediately brushes away quite a few of his worries.

Then he remembers what his best option for a cover story is, and his smile fades. His dad shows up in the doorway a second later, looking half-asleep.

“It… it wasn’t ghosts, Mom,” he says, and at least that part is true, if misleading. “I just… I’m sorry.”

His mom presses a hand to her forehead, looking like Danny’s taken about ten years off her life. “You’re grounded for two months,” she amends. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Danny says, which is also true, if… also misleading.

“You got that right,” his dad said, putting his hands on his hips in what looked like his best impression of a stern father. “You’re grounded for three months, mister.”

“That’s just going to keep going up, isn’t it,” Danny says with a sigh.

Jazz reaches over and gives him a side hug and a sympathetic smile, and Danny really isn’t sure what’s going on with her right now.

But honestly, for the moment, he’s just glad to be home.

…

Danny still isn’t quite sure how he manages to get out of giving any details to the police, but he does it. He’s given back to his parents to decide his punishment, meaning he’s confined to house arrest for the next five months (it did keep going up). That’s going to make ghost hunting a little bit difficult, but he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

The one exception to grounding, obviously, is school, which Danny is equal parts dreading and looking forward to. It was a Saturday when he got back, and of course Sam and Tucker know he’s returned, but he hasn’t gotten to see either of them. He doubts he’ll be able to see them much outside of school or the occasional study party.

Stupid Freakshow. This is going to ruin his life until Christmas.

Either way, Monday comes. And Danny walks into the school and over to his locker and tries to ignore everyone staring at him.

A loud bang at his left causes him to jump and turn to see Sam leaning against the lockers, looking none too pleased.

“So,” she says. “Have you finally decided the rest of us are worthy of your presence again?”

“Come on, Sam,” Tucker says, walking up behind her. “You said you weren’t gonna be like that.”

“Sorry, he just screws off to nowhere and you expect me to not be upset?” Sam asks with a glare at Tucker before turning back around. “Honestly Danny, you know I’m all for escaping awful parents, but you didn’t even tell us where you were going! We didn’t know if you were okay!”

“My parents aren’t awful,” Danny mutters as he looks down at his feet, all he can think to say.

“Then why did you leave?” Sam snaps, leaning into his face.

Danny winces, leaning back. “Do we have to do this out here in the hallway?”

Sam huffs, standing up straight and glaring away. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to class.” She stalks off without another word.

Danny sighs and turns to his locker so he can put the textbooks he needs into his backpack. It’s not his fault, and he knows that, but he still feels like the worst person on the face of the planet for making them worry.

“So…” Tucker says slowly, leaning back against the locker much less angrily than Sam. “Why did you leave?”

Danny closes his locker and swings his bag over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. I’m back, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, except it kind of does, though? Dude, if you feel like leaving again, I want to help you.”

Danny turns to look at him and sees nothing but honest concern in Tucker’s eyes.

He wishes it was that easy.

“You can’t,” he says.

“Why not?”

“It’s not—” Danny sighs, looking around to make sure no one’s listening.

Everyone is listening.

“Not here,” he says, turning back to Tucker. “And not now.”

Tucker looks at him for another second. “Okay,” he says finally. “But don’t think I’m letting up on this.”

Danny smiles just a little bit. “I know you’re not,” he says.

The warning bell rings.

“I have to go,” Danny says. “If I cut first period on my first day back after running away, I think my parents will actually kill me.”

Tucker smirks. “Sounds like you brought that one on yourself, dude,” he says. “But sure. See ya at lunch.”

“See ya,” Danny says, and turns to walk the other way.

The day is about what he expects. Mocking and socks in the stomach from Dash, dry remarks and glares along with piles of makeup work from teachers. He’s exhausted, but he deals with all of it and prepares to work through it until things are at least marginally back to normal.

He can’t wait for Sam and Tucker to not be mad at him. That would help a ton.

There doesn’t seem to be much of a chance of that when lunch arrives, however, because Sam starts glaring at him the second he sits down, and Tucker just gives him that same concerned look that Danny is pretty sure he can’t make go away without spilling his guts.

…Well, not that “hey Tucker I was actually being mind controlled by that ringmaster from Circus Gothica” would make him less concerned. If he believed him in the first place, that is.

Danny doesn’t know what to say to break the awkward silence, but apparently Sam has that covered.

“So, Tucker,” she says, very loudly. “Are we still on for Nasty Burger after school?”

Ouch. Fair enough.

“Uh,” Tucker says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe that’s not such a great idea anymore?”

“Why? Are we supposed to drop our plans the second Danny decides to stop being childish?”

“Okay,” Danny says, turning to face her. He’s positive he doesn’t have the energy to deal with an angry Sam for the weeks it takes her to forgive him. “What do you want me to say to you, Sam?”

Sam turns her glare on him. “I want you to tell me why on earth you left with no notice of when you’d be back or whether or not you were okay or why you were leaving,” she snaps. “Why the fuck would you do that to us?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Danny says, looking down as guilt stabs him in the chest. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean you weren’t trying to? What were you trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” Danny says, because it’s true. He doesn’t really remember the exact specifics of when and where and why he left Amity Park with Freakshow. He is pretty sure he wasn’t around as Danny Fenton for at least a couple days before that, though, meaning Jazz’s random ‘three weeks and four days’ comment was probably more accurate than the one he’d worked out from the newspaper.

“I really don’t know what I was thinking,” he reiterates, forcing himself to turn and look at Sam. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

He watches anger and concern and something else war on Sam’s face for a second before she scoffs and glares away. “You’re really not going to tell us what happened?” she asks.

“I… don’t know if you’d believe me,” Danny says quietly, looking down at his awful school lunch that is leagues better than the almost nothing he’s probably eaten the past couple weeks.

Sam gives a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Oh my god.”

“Sam,” Tucker says, narrowing his eyes at her.

“What?” Sam asks, turning her glare to him again. “Are you trying to pretend you haven’t spent the last three weeks terrified out of your mind too?”

Danny fights to not hunch over on himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead, turning to look at Sam. “I really am. I didn’t want to scare you. I’m sorry.”

Sam looks at him firmly for a long second, and she must see something in his face that makes her believe him, because she stabs at the limp broccoli on her tray without looking at it and says, “You gonna do it again?”

Danny shakes his head and prays to whatever’s out there listening that he’s not lying right now. If Desiree was around, he might even make a wish on it.

Sam seems to accept that at least a little bit. She turns and takes a bite of her vegetables. “If you do I’ll murder you,” she says.

You’re a couple months late for that, Danny doesn’t say. Instead he just nods.

“So,” Tucker says, drawing both of their attentions with a much more easygoing smile on his face. “I imagine you’ve got a lot of homework to make up, Danny. You want to move our hangouts to after school while you’re doing that at least?”

Danny smiles gratefully at him, and Sam sighs and mutters, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

So that’s where they end up, and Danny immediately appreciates how almost-normal it feels. One of the last clear memories he has before things start getting fuzzy is studying in the same library with Sam and Tucker, so in a way it feels like picking up where he left off— with some unwelcome tension added to the air.

Danny spends the first half hour or so doing homework while Tucker and Sam talk idly next to him about things they’ve done in the past three weeks that he’s apparently missed out on. Unlike lunch, there’s no anger involved, just awkwardness and hesitation, which is… better, he supposes.

Finally after an hour, when he’s only finished a tiny bit of homework for one of his classes, he sits back in his chair and massages his temples. “This is gonna take me a month.”

“Well, you did miss almost a month of work,” Sam says, with a not-very-sympathetic smile. “You don’t really have anyone to blame but yourself.”

“I’m gonna get so tired of that sentiment,” Danny says, dropping his head into an open textbook.

“It’s true.”

“I know,” Danny mutters without lifting his head.

“Did you at least have fun while you were on your runaway vacation?” Tucker asks.

Danny pulls his head up and finds Tucker now leaning on the table in front of him.

“No,” he says, because he’s sick of lying.

Tucker winces. “Ouch.”

Sam snorts. “Serves you right.”

“Sam,” Tucker says, at the same time Danny waves her off with “I know, I know, I get it.”

Sam sighs, and pushes herself up on the table. “Alright, look. You should probably lie low for the first month or two. But when your parents eventually stop watching you closer I can help you sneak out for a little fun from time to time.”

Danny gives her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me one.”

“I already owe you one,” Danny says.

“You got that right,” Sam says, crossing her arms with a smirk. She probably thinks he means her forgiving him so quickly. He doesn’t.

They don’t stay much longer, because the hour after school in the library is the only time his parents gave him before he has to go home.

As soon as he gets a free moment, when his parents are busy making dinner, he sneaks downstairs and looks up Danny Phantom on the computer.

Just as he expected, it’s not great. Most of the things it lists Phantom as doing are robberies and property damage, about what he expects. But there’s also quite a few mentions of him being cruel to the other ghosts in Freakshow’s circus, and he… cannot figure out how he feels about that.

Fighting ghosts is nothing new, obviously. But the ghosts in Freakshow’s circus didn’t choose to be there. He didn’t choose to hurt them either, but he still feels kind of uncomfortable with it, with the idea that it happened and he doesn’t even remember it.

“Danny?”

Danny yelps and closes the window on the computer, spinning around to see Jazz standing there.

“Jazz,” he says weakly. “I uh, I didn’t hear you come down here.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Jazz says, giving him a look he can’t read.

She looks at the computer, and it’s way too obvious she saw what he was looking at.

“You know,” she says, turning back to him. “Unless you’re just catching up on the ghost fighting from the past couple weeks, I wouldn’t put too much thought into Phantom.”

Danny blinks. “Uh, why?”

Jazz rolls her eyes. “He was so obviously under the control of that Freakshow guy,” she says. “Don’t you think?”

“What?” Danny stares at her. “How would you know that?”

Jazz gives him a soft smile and leans forward to kiss the top of his head. “Just a hunch I have,” she says.

“Gross, get off me,” Danny says, though he can’t put any real bite into it and he’s pretty sure Jazz can tell.

“I pay attention, you know,” Jazz says, stepping back.

Danny swallows. “Yeah? How much?”

“Enough to know that robbery and property damage isn’t Phantom’s MO,” Jazz says with a roll of her eyes. “And that those reports aren’t gonna say anything about what he’s actually like.” She pauses and looks at Danny for a minute, then clears her throat and looks away. “You know, just in case you’re curious about that kind of thing. You should find better sources.”

“And what are you, a journalist?” Danny asks.

“I’m just… concerned,” Jazz says hesitantly. “I hope that… wherever Phantom is, he’s doing okay. I hope he knows it’s not his fault.”

Danny doesn’t say anything, and he and Jazz stare at each other for a minute.

They’re interrupted by their mom calling from upstairs, “Kids, are you coming or not?”

“We’re coming Mom!” Jazz calls back. She looks back at Danny and nods her head up the steps, and Danny shuts off the computer and follows her up.

…

He’s not that shocked when he gets nightmares about Freakshow, but it’s definitely inconvenient. If he can think of one thing that won’t help with getting things back to normal, it’s being consistently sleep deprived.

The worst part is that he can’t really be sure which of the nightmares are his brain throwing his worries back in his face, and which parts are actually his brain putting together things that have happened that he can’t remember right.

Honestly, maybe it doesn’t matter that much. Either way, he doesn’t get a full night of sleep once for the first week he’s back. He can tell Jazz notices, though he’s pretty sure his parents aren’t picking up on anything, and none of them say anything. He tries his hardest to pay attention at school, because he really can’t afford to fall behind due to falling asleep in class.

Unfortunately, between trying to act normal around his family and pay attention during school, that means he usually spends the first half hour with Sam and Tucker passed out asleep on top of his textbooks.

“Dude,” Tucker says, after the fifth school day in a row of waking him up so he can do at least some of the homework he’s missed. “What time are you going to bed?”

“Yeah Danny, I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but maybe you need to go to sleep a little bit earlier,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow.

“You act like I’m not trying that,” Danny mutters, rubbing at his eyes.

“What’s stopping you?” Sam asks.

“Uh,” Danny says, not having thought that far ahead.

“Danny, seriously, on top of being the only time you can get your homework done, this is also the only time we get to hang out with you for a while,” Sam says. “I’d appreciate it if you could stay awake for all of it.”

“I’m trying, honestly,” Danny says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not like I don’t care. I do.”

“Then what’s going on, Danny?” Tucker asks. “You know you can still talk to us, right? You can always talk to us.”

Danny winces.

Well, maybe he can start small.

“I… I’ve had a couple nightmares,” he admits, running a hand through his hair as he sits up. He pulls his homework closer so he doesn’t have to look either of them in the eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Nightmares about what?” Sam asks, giving him a look he can feel without looking back. “Did something happen?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Danny says. “Can we just acknowledge it and move on?”

“Uh, no?” Sam says, reaching forward and pulling the homework away from him.

“Hey!” Danny says, turning to her.

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect followup questions,” Sam says, crossing her arms. “Nightmares about what happened while you were gone?”

Danny sighs. “Maybe.”

“What happened?” Tucker asks, obvious concern in his voice and on his face.

Danny looks up at him, not having a clue what to say. Should he explain the one about blasting all of the other ghosts into the concrete hard enough to cause a dent, or the one about terrorizing a small child and her mother to get them away from the paintings they were trying to steal?

Neither of those sound like they’ll come without follow up questions.

Danny reaches over and pulls his homework back over in front of him. “There just wasn’t a lot of food going around,” he says, settling on the one human experience he can reliably count on.

There’s a couple seconds of silence, and then Tucker gives a long sigh. “Dude,” he says. “Why did it take you so long to come back?”

“I need to get this science homework done,” Danny says in lieu of a reply.

Neither of them say anything back to him.

Strangely enough, the first one who comes up with something that’s actually helpful in regards to the nightmares is Jazz. And she seems to do it unintentionally, like she’s been doing a lot lately. She very casually at dinner one night brings up an article she’s read about how rewriting the endings of nightmares can sometimes be a good way for someone to calm down after having them, then starts discussing the science of dreams and sleep and how both of them are important and how to make sure both of them are going as smoothly as they can.

…Okay, maybe this time it’s a little more intentional than she wants to let on.

That doesn’t mean her ideas aren’t worth trying, though, so Danny gets a notebook to keep on the nightstand for alternate endings to write down. (He’ll destroy the pages every morning for privacy purposes, but he draws the line at getting a night light.)

It ends up being helpful enough that he can at least fall back asleep, which is a big improvement, if the ideas he writes down seem a little unrealistic, with how hard it actually was to break out of Freakshow’s control. Either way, he’s not so tired, and despite how loathe he is to admit it, he has Jazz to thank for that.

Not that he’ll ever tell her that, of course.

…

It’s a week and a half after he returns that things change in a meaningful way. He hasn’t had any ghost fighting to do since getting back, but that changes during lunch on Monday. Not anything he can’t handle, just a quick eye roll with the Box Ghost, but it apparently means something very different to the rest of Amity Park, and, more important to him personally, to Sam and Tucker.

“I mean honestly,” Sam is saying when Danny shows up at the library after school. She’s pacing back and forth across the library, and though Tucker waves at him when he notices him, Sam continues marching angrily in front of the table.

“Who does he think he is, showing up like nothing’s different? First of all, he ruined Circus Gothica, and then he just shows up expecting everyone to still see him as the hero? That’s not how that works!”

“Hey Danny,” Tucker says as he approaches. “Don’t mind Sam, she’s pissed off about the ghost fight today.”

“Why?” Danny asks, setting his bag down on the table. “I didn’t think that was really your scene.”

“Not until that Invis-o-Bill idiot made it personal by messing with my circus,” Sam says, rolling her eyes with obvious anger. “And then expects everything he’s done in the past couple weeks to just be brushed off.”

Danny sighs, reaching inside his backpack for his homework. “Yeah, that figures.”

“What figures?” Tucker asks in confusion.

“Math figures,” Danny says, dropping his notebook on the table. “Gonna try and knock out a lot of the math homework today.”

“Uh, fair enough?” Tucker says, still sounding confused. “But honestly Sam, at least he seems to have gotten over whatever’s been going on and isn't actively being malicious anymore.”

“Great, so we’re supposed to reward him for the bare minimum?”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” Danny asks, looking up with what he hopes comes off as annoyance. “I get enough of ghosts from my parents, I was kind of appreciating you guys actually being a break from all of that.”

“Look, you don’t get it,” Sam says. “I don’t imagine you’ve been following ghost news for the past couple weeks, but he’s—”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Danny snaps, giving Sam as firm a glare as he dares to right now.

Sam raises her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Sam, honestly, I’ll let you be as mad at me as you need for as long as you want,” Danny says. “But please, can you back off with the ghosts? My parents already think I was kidnapped by them or something, I don’t want to talk about them during the only time of the day I can actually relax for a little bit. Okay?”

Thankfully, Sam and Tucker both go quiet. Now he’ll just have to hope that neither of them actually ask his parents about that excuse and realize he already told them that’s not what happened.

But apparently he’s misjudged their silence, because after a minute Tucker taps his textbook with a pencil, drawing his attention.

He looks up and finds Tucker and Sam both looking at him like they’re trying to come up with the right way to say something.

He blinks. “What?”

“Danny,” Tucker says slowly. “If I ask you something, can you promise not to freak out?”

“No,” Danny says honestly.

Tucker considers this for a second. “Fair. I’m gonna ask anyway. Did you actually run away of your own free will?”

Danny goes stiller than, well, a dead person. “What?”

“Did you actually run away?”

Danny looks back and forth between him, and then Sam, and then back. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Dude,” Tucker says, leaning closer. “You’re not acting like yourself. Even ‘just made a huge mistake and now everyone’s mad at you’ yourself. You’re having nightmares, and you don’t want to talk about what’s causing them. Did you actually run away?”

Danny opens his mouth, shuts it, and looks down at his math textbook.

“…Danny,” Sam says, sounding baffled and angry but also more concerned than he’s heard from her since he got back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because that’s something you just say in the middle of the hallway,” Danny snaps despite himself.

“Danny, come on,” Sam says. “Why are you just letting everyone be mad at you then? You need to tell someone—”

“No,” Danny says.

“What? Dude,” Tucker says, leaning forward with obvious worry. “They could go after someone else, or come after you again—”

“He won’t.”

“You can’t know that!”

“Yeah, well, I do,” Danny says, keeping his gaze very firmly on his math homework. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know what? Fine,” Sam snaps, pushing her chair back and grabbing her bag. “Because you’re being ridiculous.”

With that, she turns and marches out of the library.

Danny doesn’t say anything in protest and starts working on the first math problem on the sheet.

“You know,” Tucker says quietly. “She was really really scared when you weren’t here.”

Danny keeps writing.

“She was worried something was gonna happen to you and she’d never see you again,” Tucker continues. “I…” there’s a pause, and then he sighs.

“I’m not gonna make you talk about anything you don’t want to, dude,” he says. “Just… know that she’s not actually mad at you. She’s just still scared.”

Danny sighs and puts his pencil down. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

Tucker reaches out and puts a hand on Danny’s shoulder, in a way that should feel really awkward but somehow doesn’t. “You know you can tell me anything,” he says. “Right?”

Danny looks away.

“Okay,” Tucker sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He picks up his stuff and leaves.

…

Danny spends the night laying on his bed tossing a ball up in the air and trying to catch it. He has to get up and chase it down more often than he’d like, he’s not exactly the most athletic person out there.

He ignores his growing stomach and skips dinner, telling his mom he’s not feeling well. He can always go down and grab something after everyone else falls asleep.

After dinner, however, he hears a knock on his door.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” Jazz asks.

Danny pauses in tossing the ball in the air and considers for a moment. “Yeah.”

The door opens as Danny resumes tossing the ball. Jazz walks in, then closes the door behind her and heads over towards the bed, already looking concerned.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks. “You were upset about something when I came to pick you up, and now you’ve been up here for hours.”

Danny manages to actually catch the ball and sits up, setting it down next to him. “Okay, what is with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting like, aggressively supportive since I got back,” Danny says. “Sam is angrier at me than you. Mom and Dad are angrier at me than you.”

“I’m your sister,” Jazz says. “It’s not my job to get angry at you. It’s my job to support you.”

“No, you’re my sister,” Danny says. “It’s your job to tease me relentlessly and make my life way harder.”

Jazz gives him a look. “You really don’t need that right now.”

“And why should you care?” Danny snaps. “I brought this on myself, remember?”

Jazz doesn’t say anything.

“I just, I’m trying to understand what your deal is,” Danny says. “Do you want something? Are you trying to butter me up for some reason? What are you getting out of this?”

Jazz gives him what almost seems like a sad look, then reaches forward and squeezes Danny’s hand. “I’m worried about you,” she says quietly.

“Why?” Danny says, pulling his hand away.

Jazz sighs, looking down at the bed. “Because we both know you didn’t run away, Danny.”

Danny throws his hands up. “This again? I’m fine. No one died, no one hurt me, I didn’t have to hurt— people, so I’m fine!”

Jazz gives him a look. “That is in no way how that works.”

Danny shakes his head, glaring down at the covers.

Jazz nudges him gently in the side. “I’m not going to make you say something you’re not ready to,” she says. “Just know that you can tell me anything, Danny.”

With that, she stands and starts to walk out, and Danny feels a weight press down on his chest, one he’s barely sure he can take anymore.

“Jazz, wait,” he says, reaching out and catching her arm.

Jazz pauses and turns back around. “Yeah?”

“I—” Danny says, and stops. Nerves start to crawl up his throat. He half expects his ghost sense to go off, but it’s not that kind of anxiety.

He takes a deep breath. “If I tell you something,” he says. “Can you promise to let me explain everything before you make any kind of judgment?”

Jazz smiles at him. “I promise,” she says with a nod.

Danny takes a shaky breath. “I, um.” He stops.

“Yeah?” Jazz probes gently.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down and clenching his hands around his blankets. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud before.”

Jazz reaches out and puts her hand over his. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says. “I… already know.”

Danny jerks his head up. “What?”

By the look on her face, he can tell they both mean exactly the same thing.

“You…” Danny says weakly. “How long?”

“Uh, since the Spectra thing,” Jazz says, rubbing the back of her neck with a sheepish smile. “I wanted to give you a chance to tell me yourself.”

Danny gapes at her for a second, Jazz gives him a soft smile.

“And you…” he says finally. “You don’t care?”

“Of course I care,” Jazz says, crossing her arms. “I care that you’re safe. I care that if you don’t want someone to know, they don’t find out. I care that you’re my brother and you’ve been trying to do this all alone. I care that some jerk ran off with you and has been forcing you to do things you clearly don’t want to do for the past month.”

Danny winces and looks down.

“Are you okay?” Jazz says, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“Not… really,” Danny says.

Jazz wraps her arms around him and pulls him over towards her, and this time he doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t like watching you do this all by yourself,” Jazz says. “Can I help you?”

Now Danny does pull away, if just to stare at her in bafflement. “You want to help?”

“Of course I want to help,” Jazz says, like that’s obvious. “If anything, the past month is a clear sign that you shouldn’t be doing this by yourself.”

Well, he can’t exactly argue with her there. Still…

“It’s dangerous, Jazz,” he says.

Jazz raises her eyebrows. “All the more reason I don’t want you rushing into danger without backup.”

“I can handle it,” he says. “That’s what the ghost powers are for.”

“Danny.” Jazz leans forward, giving him a pointed look. “I want to help you. Okay?”

Danny looks at her for a minute. He takes a breath. “Okay.”

Jazz leans forward and pulls him into another hug, and for once, Danny can know she means it. His brain can’t make any arguments about how she wouldn’t be doing this if she knew, because she does know.

And, well.

He could get used to that.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #look don't ask me I haven't watched this show in 10 years #no one knows au #tw kidnapping #it probably counts as that honestly #my fic

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pricklenettle · 10 months

Text

Woops

#danny phantom #my art #dp #lil comic #no one knows au #tucker foley #skulker #anime gun violence #danny fenton

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kinglazrus · 8 months

Text

The Moment it Breaks

AO3 | FFN

Summary: He knew his identity couldn't stay a secret forever. Eventually, someone would find out. But he always thought it would be on his terms. Instead, that chance is ripped away from him in the middle of a ghost fight, and now all of Amity Park knows the truth: Tucker Foley is the Tech Hunter.

After a harrowing fight with Phantom that they both limped away from, Tucker needs his friends more than ever. If only Danny would answer the phone.

AU where Vlad sought out Tucker as his teenage ghost hunter instead of Valerie.

Word count: 4340

—

Phantom lunged with teeth bared and claws outstretched—and was met with a cannon to his chest. Lost in his mindless pursuit, he did not react or even attempt to push the cannon away. The barrel dug into his gut as his body curved over it, the light within smothered against his jumpsuit.

The cannon fired.

The street exploded into light as Phantom took the blast at point-blank range. It tossed his body across the street, slamming him into a parked truck, where the door crumpled and held him like a jagged maw biting down on its prey. A moment passed before he phased through the twisted metal and collapsed onto the street. Ectoplasm dripped from his ears, nose, and stomach, hissing against the pavement.

There was more green than black on his suit.

Across the street, the Tech Hunter stood with his arm raised, his left gauntlet unfurled into a cannon. His arm flagged under the weight but did not drop. Violet light still glowed within the barrel, gathering for another shot.

Although he was too far away to hear, the dancing line on his mouthpiece showed he was speaking.

It was impossible to tell if Phantom could hear Tech. The ghost's eyes were bright but unfocused. One arm pressed against his side while the other struggled to hold him up.

Everyone knows that ghosts don't breathe, but it looks like he had been gasping, his mouth gaping as he struggled to catch a breath he could never take.

Tech limped forward. Light rippled across his suit, or seemed to, as he stepped under a streetlamp. The nanobots surging over his body drilled into the pavement as he braced his cannon arm with his other hand, readying for the next shot.

Phantom jerked his head up, eyes completely white.

Tech fired. In that instant, Phantom unleashed twin beams of ectoplasm from his eyes. The beams tore through the street as Phantom raised his eyes to Tech, and the attacks met.

Night turned into day as ectoplasm swept across the street. A horrible screech sounded from within the blaze as it flung the two silhouettes aside like limp dolls.

The light was gone as quickly as it came, letting the night sweep back in just as Tech hit the pavement, the visor on his mask shattering as his head bounced off the curb.

No one moved. Phantom lay in a puddle of ectoplasm, and Tech sprawled in the middle of the street.

The seconds ticked by.

Tech stirred first, lifting his head as he struggled to rise. The crack in his visor exposed the face of Tucker Foley.

“It’s not too late,” Tucker's dad says.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and even longer for Tucker to drag himself back to the present. He pauses the video he had been watching on his phone, freezing it on a close-up of his battered face. Although the footage is somewhat out of focus, his teal eyes are unmistakable. If Tucker's timeline is correct, the video had only been up for ten minutes before someone mentioned his name. By morning, everyone had known the truth: Tucker Foley is the Tech Hunter.

He closes the video—there's no point watching the rest when he already lived it—and looks at his dad in the driver's seat.

“You can wait in the truck while I talk to Mr. Lancer, and then we can go home,” Maurice suggests. “Maybe stop at the Nasty Burger on the way. No harm in missing a Monday.”

Tucker gasps. “But then I’d miss out on the love of my adoring fans!” His voice softens as he continues. “Besides, I already told Sam I’d be there.”

“And Danny?” Maurice glances away from the road long enough to catch his eye.

Tucker’s gaze drops back to his phone. Notifications had been pouring in all weekend, setting his phone off so often that he had to turn off his alerts to get a few seconds of peace. But things have settled down, and only one message waits for him now. Sent from Sam at the start of second period that morning, her first class with Danny.

AWOL again. Have you heard from him yet?

“No,” Tucker says, texting Sam the same thing before putting his phone in his pocket. No texts. No calls. Tucker’s whole world turned on its head, and everyone has had something to say about it. Everyone except his best friend.

He feels his dad’s stare but refuses to meet it, glaring at the parking lot as they pull in. He doesn’t want to see the expression on his dad’s face, whether it’s pity or worry. After a year of dealing with this new Danny, Tucker has grown used to the silent treatment. But he had hoped something this big would make things different. Apparently not.

Tucker opens the passenger door and stands up slowly. Although his concussion is minor, his head spins when he moves too quickly. He braces himself against the truck while lowering to sit on the door frame before sliding to the ground, mindful of his injured ankle.

Gravel crunches under the boot he has to wear for the next three weeks.

“Crutches,” his dad reminds him, not that Tucker would have forgotten. He grabs them from the back seat and fixes them under his arms.

He makes his way to the front doors slowly. Since he has never sprained an ankle before, he’s unsteady on the crutches. The doctor said he would get used to the crutches and that he should keep off his right ankle as much as possible.

The temptation to sprint the rest of the way to the door is still there. Has the sidewalk from the parking lot to the front door always been this long? Ironically, the reason Tucker wants to make a mad dash for the entrance is the same thing keeping him from trying it—rows of classroom windows looking out over the front lawn.

The lunch bell won’t have rung quite yet, which means plenty of antsy students looking outside as they stave off the last boring minutes of class before they can finally eat. Tucker makes the mistake of glancing up once and making eye contact with a girl on the second floor. She stares at him, her mouth falling open.

Tucker tosses her a brilliant smile before hobbling faster, catching up to his dad just as he opens the door.

The secretary is on the phone when they enter the main office, but Lancer intercepts them before Tucker and his father can sit down to wait.

“Ah, Mr. Foley! Thank you for coming in. Tucker, I hope you’re feeling well,” Lancer says.

Tucker gives Lancer an incredulous look. What a dumb question. He knows Lancer saw the video, along with everyone else in Amity. He saw the fight. Can see the crutches and the bruises. He already knows the answer.

Tucker humours him with a shrug but offers nothing further.

“You wanted to talk about Tucker’s grades?” Maurice asks.

Lancer's stare lingers on Tucker a second longer before switching to Maurice. “Almost right. After the, um, revelation, I went through our records. Tucker’s grades started dropping when he began ghost hunting, and I doubt that's a coincidence.”

“I don’t choose when ghosts attack,” Tucker says.

“Of course that's not your fault; you were doing this city a great service. But school is still important, and I'd like to help Tucker keep up. We have a student advisor program that could be useful.”

“What does it entail?” Maurice asks.

A tugging draws Tucker's attention away from the conversation, and he tunes out his dad and Lancer's voices. The feeling comes from behind him.

The visitor chairs calling my name, Tucker jokes. Despite his doctor's warnings, he may have put some weight on his ankle in his rush to get inside, and now it throbs through the boot. Plus, leaning on the crutches has started hurting his arms.

He turns away from the desk and looks at the three chairs against the wall.

The furthest is occupied. Tucker hadn't even noticed when they came in, but the office door hadn't opened again since they arrived, so the kid must have been there the whole time. They look more like a lump than a person, swathed in a hoodie three times their size, clutching a backpack that has seen better days.

Tucker recognizes that backpack, which would look more at home in a trash can. That orange and green logo stamped on the hoodie sleeve. That unruly fringe of hair splaying out from the hood.

“Danny?”

Tucker’s best friend flinches.

That tug again, harder this time, pulling Tucker forward half a step.

Danny's arms, lost in the sleeves of his father's old hoodie, curl tighter around his stomach as Tucker moves. No wonder Tucker had not recognized him at first glance. Jack's sweater smothers Danny, and the way he curls around himself with his head ducked… It's no surprise that Tucker called out first. That's how it always is, now.

He pushes down the flutter of anxiety and drops into the chair closest to the door, leaning his crutches against the wall. The space between them feels like a canyon. For months, Tucker has stood on one side, shouting across the chasm, while Danny watches from the other. How many bridges has he built trying to cross that gap? How many times has he reached out to nothing but open air?

How many times has Danny bothered to answer him?

As if sensing Tucker's thoughts, Danny lifts his head, exposing pale cheeks and sleep-starved eyes.

Tucker looks again at Danny’s arms around his stomach and asks, “Sick?” Danny's go-to excuse, although it appears true this time.

Danny doesn’t answer right away. His eyes lock on the golden band around Tucker’s throat. Tucker barely notices the choker these days, or the longer chain accompanying it, but it's hard to ignore when Danny stares. He becomes aware of how the choker shifts—so unlike the solid metal band the nanobots parade as—when he swallows.

The matching bracelets on his wrists and ankles constrict as the nanobots spread, reacting to his quickening pulse. He knows better than to try and will them down. Sometimes, he thinks his suit has a mind of its own and trying to fight it only makes his heart beat faster, makes the suit more reactive.

“Something like that,” Danny says.

“And without a note,” the secretary adds.

Danny sinks in his chair, eyes lowered.

Lancer stops talking mid-sentence. He turns, surprise lighting his eyes, as if he hadn't noticed Danny before.

Tucker realizes that he hadn't. Like him, Lancer had not clocked the quiet observer in the corner.

“Again? You don't have a note excusing your absence this morning?” Lancer asks.

Danny shakes his head.

“Can you contact your parents for us and have them give a verbal notice?”

“I’ve been trying,” the secretary cuts in. She sets the phone down on the receiver. “Four times, no answer. I can’t leave a message, either, since their voicemail is still full.”

Tucker is willing to bet his PDA that all the messages taking up the Fentons’ voicemail are from the school. Anyone who knows them knows calling the house is a useless endeavour. Danny could offer up his parents' cell phone numbers, but his lips stay sealed.

Tucker could give Lancer their numbers. Or Maurice could. Tucker has reasons for not offering the phone numbers up—frustration being the biggest among them—but his dad…

Maurice watches in contemplative silence.

Lancer sighs. “Daniel, you know what we talked about.”

“I wasn’t skipping!” Danny makes a move forward but abandons it with a sharp hiss. “I didn’t feel good, so I overslept on accident, honest.”

“I want to believe you, but you don’t have a note, and we can’t reach your parents. We can’t ignore this problem.”

“Please, I’ve been trying.”

“You’ve been late nearly every day this month, gone missing from class three times last week, and have sixteen absent days without explanation from the beginning of the year. Not to mention your streak of late or incomplete assignments and failing grades.” Lancer recites each offence as if reading off a grocery list. He could have said “bag of flour” instead of “failing grades,” and it wouldn’t have sounded out of place.

Danny's face crumples as Lancer speaks, and his eyes water. Although, judging by how he grips his side, Lancer's words may not be the only thing causing him pain.

Tucker wonders if he should speak up. A good friend would, and Tucker is a good friend, but something holds him back. Part of him wishes Lancer had taken Danny into his office to have the conversation in private, so that he didn't have to watch this. He may be annoyed with Danny, but he doesn't enjoy hearing Lancer scold his best friend.

But another part of him, much smaller yet big enough to keep him quiet, thrums with satisfaction because someone is finally calling Danny out.

“Please.” Danny's voice cracks. “I swear it's not on purpose.”

Then stop doing it, a voice hisses in Tucker's mind.

“Now, hold on.” As Maurice steps between Lancer and Danny, the growing sneer vanishes from Tucker's face. “Can we talk about this? I might not be Danny’s parent, but I am one of his emergency contacts.”

“Only a guardian can provide an absence note,” Lancer says.

“I know, but this conversation is for an adult, not a fourteen-year-old. What kind of punishment are we looking at?”

“In-school suspension at the least, but we need to consider Danny’s record. Property damage—”

“I stopped dropping beakers,” Danny mumbles.

Lancer glares at Danny for the interruption. “Property damage, and bringing questionable substances to school. Two months ago, we had to confiscate a lip… balm?”

“Lipstick.”

“Thank you, Daniel. We confiscated a lipstick blaster. He fired it at a student as revenge for a prank.”

“Ghost weapons don’t hurt regular people. Much,” Danny says.

“And we were lenient enough not to suspend you then since Mr. Baxter wasn’t injured, but it’s concerning behaviour. Taking that into consideration, we’re now looking at a three-day suspension.”

“I don’t see how taking a student out of school will help when they’re struggling to stay in,” Maurice says. “I’ve known Danny his whole life. He's a good kid, and someone should speak up for him. Can we at least talk about this?”

Lancer purses his lips. “Daniel, are you comfortable with me talking to Mr. Foley about this?”

That’s funny, since Lancer already recited Danny’s record from memory without care.

Danny stays silent, stare fixed on the carpet, hands trembling in his lap. The bell for lunch goes off, ringing right outside the door, but he doesn't move.

“Dude.” Tucker nudges Danny's foot with his own.

Danny's leg jerks, pulling out of reach, and he finally looks up. “Um. Sure. Yeah.”

Lancer nods. “Ms. Nichols, could you go to the guidance counsellor and get a packet on the student advisor program? I’d like Tucker to read it over. Mr. Foley, if you’d come with me.”

Tucker’s dad casts Danny a worried glance before disappearing into Lancer’s adjoining office. The secretary steps out a moment later, leaving Tucker and Danny alone. By that time, Danny is back to staring at the carpet. His trembling worsens, and he lowers his head to his knees.

“Hey, man. It'll be okay. A few days isn’t so bad.” Tucker pats Danny's shoulder, but he flinches again. Tucker's hand hovers in the air before pulling back. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in days, and this is how Danny acts. No, “I’m glad you’re not dead” or, “Hey, how’s your leg?” If Tucker hadn’t noticed Danny, would he have said anything?

No. Tucker knows he wouldn't have.

Anger sparks in his chest. He tries to swallow it, but it leaks into his voice. “I'm surprised you care this much. It's a free pass to skip more school.”

“I can't afford to miss any more school.”

“Really? You could have fooled me.”

Danny glares at Tucker. “What does that mean?”

In the back of his mind, Tucker knows he should stop talking. A few words in, and the conversation is turning sour already. There’s a bitterness growing between them that wasn’t there before. It shadows Danny's gaze and turns the spark in Tucker’s chest to a blaze.

He doesn’t think before he says, “I know your grades are bad, but I didn't realize you were actually stupid.”

Danny reels back. Tucker is nowhere near him, but his words are enough of a slap in the face. Tucker regrets them the second they leave his mouth. It's too far. Too close to Danny's greatest insecurity. He knows it was an asshole thing to say, but he keeps talking.

“It's hard to believe you care when you're never here.”

“You don't understand.”

“It doesn't sound that complicated. Stop skipping class, and Lancer won't suspend you. Simple.?

“I have—there are things I have to do, okay? You don't—” Danny bites down on his words. His gaze drops to Tucker's choker. “You should get it.”

Tucker puts a hand on his throat. The collar responds to his touch, rippling beneath his fingers. The chain resting against his chest grows warm. “Are you serious? I don't know where the hell you've been the last few days, but I'm a ghost hunter. What I'm doing matters. What's your excuse?”

Danny opens his mouth, but Tucker pushes on. Now that he's started, he can't seem to stop.

“Whatever it is, I guess it's more important than your friends. Where have you been, Danny? Because it's not here. First, you miss school, then stop hanging out with us, and then you miss Sam's birthday. We tried to reach out. We asked what was wrong, but you kept shutting us out! You've done some rotten things this year, but we still thought you cared. We still—”

Tucker's voice cracks. Is it cold in here? He feels cold. And wet. Phantom raindrops strike his nose and cheeks, just like that night. The world around him grows fuzzy and distorted, making his head ache. His ankle hurts. His suit is broken. There are no enemies here, but his instincts scream at him to fight.

To attack.

“I needed you! It was the scariest night of my life, and you weren't there. I had to limp home alone because my best friend wouldn't answer his phone. And you kept ignoring me! You didn't come to the hospital. You didn't visit me at home. You didn't answer any of my calls. I need you, Danny, but it's like you're not even here. Where the hell are you?”

Tucker looms over Danny. He doesn't remember standing up, but his shadow falls over Danny's face. Danny isn't here. His eyes are wide and distant, looking through Tucker at something very far away. He curls into himself, his trembles turning to full-body shakes.

“You don’t have anything to say?”

Danny grabs his head and squeezes his eyes shut, the backpack falling from his lap.

“Say something!” Tucker grabs Danny's hoodie and hauls him up. That's when Danny screams. Tucker's first instinct is to shove him back, send him sprawling. Danny hits the floor with another broken cry. The rain vanishes, leaving Tucker with a sheen of sweat as he returns to himself.

“Shit, Danny.” Tucker is drowning in an ocean of anger, but he swims for the glimmer of light above his head, reminding himself with each stroke of his arms where he is, who he's with, that Danny isn't his enemy.

Tucker reaches out to help. No matter how angry he is, Danny is still his friend. Tucker grabs Danny’s arm to hold him steady, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. Should he call the nurse? His dad and Mr. Lancer? Whatever’s wrong with Danny isn’t like a cold or flu.

Unconsciously, his grip on Danny’s arm tightens.

He doesn’t see Danny move. Tucker is standing, and then he’s on the floor, staring up at the ceiling rather than down at Danny's crumpled face.

“Mr. Fenton!”

“Tucker!”

Tucker blinks, trying to process what just happened. Grabbing the nearest chair, he hoists himself up and surveys the scene. Lancer and his dad hover in the doorway, staring at Danny in disbelief. Danny stands in the middle of the room, his fist extended. He’s the one looming now, but somehow he looks small.

Tucker’s chest throbs where Danny had struck him.

“Fighting in school is prohibited. Thanks to Mr. Foley, I was willing to give you another chance, but I’ve just changed my mind.” Lancer goes to a cabinet behind the desk and opens the top drawer, pulling out a pink slip of paper. It only takes him a second to fill it out. “You’re not allowed on school grounds for the rest of the week. This needs to be signed and brought back to me as soon as possible.”

Danny grabs the paper without looking. “How can I bring it back if I’m not allowed?”

“Your parents need to bring it in, so we know they've seen it. You can wait in the hall until we send you home”

Danny’s jaw clenches. For a moment, Tucker thinks he’s going to protest, wants him to protest. Do anything to show that he still cares about any of this. But Danny only lets out a shuddering breath and leaves.

Tucker stares after him until a hand appears at the edge of his vision.

“Tucker, are you okay?” his dad asks.

“Fine. Been hit worse by nastier things.”

“We heard shouting.” His dad helps him up.

“We were just talking, but then…” Tucker doesn't understand how it spiralled so fast. Danny's scream snuffed out the fire in Tucker's chest, but watching him walk away without a word fans the lingering embers. “Be right back.”

He snatches his crutches from the wall and hobbles out of the office as fast as he can. The hallway is empty. Bursting out the front door, Tucker scans the schoolyard. He spots Danny halfway across the grass, heading to the side fence.

“Danny!” Tucker shouts.

If he hears Tucker, he doesn’t show it.

“Hey!” Tucker stumbles down the steps, swearing under his breath. Damn crutches. Damn ankle. Damn stupid best friend and their stupid argument.

They aren’t the only ones outside. It’s lunchtime, and on such a nice day, a handful of students have congregated at the picnic tables and bleachers to enjoy their food in the sun. Tucker feels their stares as he crosses the field but ignores them. All his focus is on Danny, who moves much too quickly for him to catch up.

“Danny Fenton!” Tucker bellows.

Danny falters but doesn’t stop.

“Fuck this.” Tucker throws his crutches aside and activates the boots on his suit. With a burst of lavender rocket fire, he soars across the field, overtaking Danny in seconds. His landing is sloppy, too hard on his injured ankle, but he drops right in front of Danny and grabs his collar.

“What the hell was that?”

“Leave me alone.” The words are harsh, but Danny's voice trembles as he says them.

“Uh, no, because there is something wrong with you. Aren't we friends? Why can't you tell me what's going on?” Tucker searches Danny's face. He doesn't know what he's looking for, but he wants to see something.

“Like you told me about the Tech Hunter?”

Tucker can't hide his wince. He thought about it—so many times, he thought about it. Had never cared about his friends knowing his identity, hoped for it even. It would have been so easy to say. Hey, guys. I'm the Tech Hunter. Cool, right?

There had been many moments he could have said it, especially to Sam, but he always wanted both of them to know. On his favourite PDA, he has a note saved, a confession, spilling everything to them. All the fights, all the excuses, his most triumphant moments, and his lowest ones. Every time he opened his mouth, he fought down the urge to confess.

Sam and Danny are his best friends, and they have always deserved to know. But…

“That's different.” Tucker's voice is quiet, but not soft. “Vlad said it would keep you guys safe.”

Something other than grim acceptance finally flashes through Danny's eyes, but it's here and gone so fast that Tucker can't identify it. But he knows he said something wrong. Danny's face falls as soon as the words leave Tucker's lips.

“I don't know what's going on, but this doesn't have to be whatever it is. You're still my best friend.” A lump forms in Tucker's throat. The nanobots respond to his distress, their hum drowning out his haggard breathing. His choker, the chain, and the bracelets grow warm as the suit activates. It doesn't cover him completely, just enough for him to see the gleam of his gauntlets, and feel the weight of his helmet. It calms him down. Makes him feel safe. The Tech Hunter is cool, strong, and brave. Nothing phases him.

Nothing except the terror that fills Danny's eyes as the golden armour appears.

“Stay away from me!” Danny screeches.

A burst of wind pushes Tucker back a step. His grip loosens, and Danny pries his hands off. For a moment, Tucker swears something sharp digs into his wrists. The surrounding yard has fallen silent. He can feel the other students watching them. No one speaks. No one moves.

The inferno roaring in Tucker's chest has finally gone out, snuffed by Danny's howl. It leaves a blackened pit behind. Tucker's arm rises imperceptibly, an unconscious move to reach out one last time.

Danny's gaze leaps to Tucker's hand as he steps back.

Finally, something in Tucker shatters.

“Fine,” he whispers. “I don't care anymore.”

His arm lowers, he turns away, and limps back to the school. Tucker is done offering his hand to someone who won't take it.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #unlucky alis #phicc #tech hunter au #phanfic #no one knows au #posting at 2am isn't really conducive to getting the phic seen #but I was too excited to wait

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abrielarnold · 1 year

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"I'm sorry. That me being posessed was a better alternative than me just being, well, me."

'Echoes' by @phantomtwitch

(this fic has had me in a chokehold for the past 2 weeks. no one knows, full hazmat, void danny au to the max. he can't fly in his hazmat suit!! aaaaaaaaa tragedy)

#danny phantom #ficrecs #absart #no one knows au #void!danny #full hazmat au #i love his radio #i love that his only power in the suit is #big ectoblast #echoes #phantomtwitch #abrielart

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another-shameless-fangirl · 9 months

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Demon

“They aren’t really ghosts, you know.”

“What?” Danny blinked out of his bliss staring out at the lights that floated across the park and turned his attention to the voice on his right. Each of the soft lights dotting the distance he had figured was a spirit, moving aimless and slow or following a habitual path they had carved out for themselves in life and found comfort in after death.

An old man sat on the bench near where Danny stood on the concrete path under an ancient willow. His grey hair thinned at the top and was combed over a pale bald head. His wire glasses were rectangular and too large for his thin face. Danny couldn’t tell the man’s age but spots and lines of concern felt long ago made him pretty sure the man was at least 70. Danny turned his body toward the man stiffly.

He wasn’t used to people actively talking to him. Since the accident happened and he started high school, he cut off all communication with Sam and Tucker barely acknowledging them in the hallway and letting them draw their own conclusions as to why he was avoiding everyone now. It was safer for them to think he was just a jerk instead of… whatever he was now. Half human, half ghost, it was all so confusing. Until he figured out exactly what he was, whether he really was a hybrid or not, then they would be better off without him.

The past few months had been lonely but he wasn’t sure this was the kind of company he wanted in their absence.

“They look like people but they aren’t.” The man told him certainly and Danny felt a chill go up his spine. He did not see the man there when he walked up to stand under the willow tree to observe the peaceful scene. He wasn’t sure why but he felt like an intruder. He looked out at the peaceful lights flying and walking in the distance then back to the seated man. Danny smiled politely.

“They’re not people. They’re ghosts.” He said lightly but where his conversation went, he really wasn’t sure. There was no way the man had lived in Amity Park without knowing about the ghosts that lived here too. The man shook his head, tutted, and crossed his wrinkled arms to his chest. His weathered wood cane shifted against the bench but did not fall.

“They look like that to trick people.” He said with a malice that made Danny recoil.

“That… They’re not tricking anyone. They’re just existing.” He said and the man scoffed at him.

“They look like that to make themselves more palatable for people. These things are evil.”

Danny stared at the man who glared across the scene before them. The ghosts who could only come out at night were harmless. Most of them were Echoes, ghosts that couldn’t do much more than relive a moment in their lives that proved they had existed at all. Danny had tried once to speak to one of these souls and they either didn’t see him or had ignored him completely. He wondered which it was sometimes and what the difference was between him and them. Were they ever at the same power level he was? Able to move freely and follow his own thoughts? Were they evil like the man said?

Was there enough difference between them that he could be sure he wasn’t evil too?

“How do you know they’re really evil? They’re not hurting anyone.”

“They’re biding their time. They’ll behave for now but the other ones,” The man waved a hand at the boy. “Big nasty things, bombing the streets and frightening people.”

Danny frowned and the man kept going.

“Ghosts didn’t used to be a common thing. They were special, peeks at what used to be and now you see them all the time in town. They’re so strong you can see them clearly and they’ll look right at you and cause you pain.” Danny looked at the man who just stared straight ahead. “It’s only a matter of time before these ones start lobbing bombs at people killing us all.”

A hard lump formed in Danny’s throat. “They just-“

“They’re vile.” The man scowled at Danny. “They’re evil creatures- not human anymore and pulling their power from somewhere evil to stay where they don’t belong.”

Danny frowns at the man and it’s tempting to leave. Did other people believe this?

“You don’t think they belong in the human world?”

“Not anymore.” The man uncrossed his arms. “Ghosts can’t be here on the living plane with that much power. Ghosts are what’s leftover from human souls. What these are, they’re not leftover so much as they are repurposed.”

Danny turned toward the bench completely turning his back on the park and the spirits alike. The old man looked at him for the first time and brown eyes were clouded and practically looked through the boy. It was unsettling but the man seemed earnest.

He didn’t even want to ask but he had to know.

“Repurposed into what?”

“Into demons.”

Another chill struck through Danny and something in his core swirled at the word.

Demon…

The vitriol hatred was still there but it simmered under the calm words. “They’re so far from God that their souls turn into something unholy, untouched by light.” The man said solemnly. “They cause pain and suffering to the living and lie about everything. Agents of the devil come to bring hell on earth. All while wearing the face of the dead to make us drop our guard.”

Danny stepped back but didn’t run away. “You think the ghosts in town are all… demons?”

“I know they are.” The man rasped almost sadly. “The way they look, sound, they’re trying to mask what they really are. They’ll trick you into thinking they’re just kids and then drag you into hell themselves.” The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and coughed into it. Danny watched but the man didn’t continue without prompting which he couldn’t help but do.

“How do you know?” The thoughts began to swirl in his head. “How are you sure that they’re not just ghosts with powers?”

“What do they need powers for exactly? They’re too sturdy. Too strong.” The man tucked the cloth away. Danny peeked at it and half expected to see speckles of blood like a movie but it was clean. The man straightened his posture. “Why would you make a creature strong if you didn’t plan on using it for what power is used for? The strong ones are going fight for dominance to claim this land their own for the devil. The ones that look like us are here to convince us all it’s okay.”

Danny looked out over the ghosts scattered around the park. He wanted to tell the man no and that he was wrong, but what if there was a truth in what he said?

“I- Phantom won’t let that happen.”

The man scoffed.

“Phantom is the worst of them all.”

A pit formed in his stomach so quickly he felt sick.

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s very existence is wrong.” The man scoffed and he began to stand up. Danny stepped backwards quickly but the man barely looked at him as he continued.

“Phantom… Ghost… It’s still an unholy creature. Damned to earth unable to pass into heaven and apparently kicked out of hell.”

Tears formed in Danny’s eyes. “That’s not true. He’s just a kid-“

“Even if it was a child once, it isn’t anymore. An undead creature of bizarre power fighting for dominance in a damned town while wearing the face of a child,” the man picked up his cane and shook his head. “If that isn’t a demon then Lord help us when it reveals its true face.”

Danny stepped back again onto the grass and further under the weeping willow. He stayed there firmly off the path as the man walked slowly toward the street.

A gloved hand rubbed at green eyes. He grit his teeth and called after the man’s retreating form. “You’re wrong. I’m gonna prove it!”

“Don’t be naïve, child.” The man waved a dismissive hand back at him. “Save your soul while you still can.” He turned around a corner and was out of sight.

Danny felt a rage in him that felt so cold and kicked off the ground launching himself into the air. He saw the man from above but what was there to say? What if the man talked more and that rage solidified and proved him right? What if Phantom was the worst of the ghosts, no, the demons that now inhabited the town.

It made sense. He wasn’t a ghost, he wasn’t human. Both species had told him he didn’t belong in their worlds. If he didn’t belong to either side, maybe the old man was right.

If he wanted answers, maybe he needed to look down.

#ASF Writes #ASF Wrote a Thing #Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #dp event #angstfest2023 #no one knows au #judgemental citizen of Amity Park

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phantomtwitch · 9 months

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For angstfest! I'm a little late, but here's one for a No One Knows AU.

They’re already moving as soon as he’s gone.

Tucker grabs Danny’s legs while Sam picks up Danny beneath his arms and shoulders. He’s long past the point of being embarrassed about Sam being stronger than him, and they have to move fast as they drag Danny’s body into an empty classroom nearby. He mutters curses under his breath as the heavy classroom door bounces off his side, and Sam huffs and rolls her eyes. “Drama queen,” she accuses, and he sticks his tongue out at her as they carry Danny’s body the rest of the way inside and the door shuts with a too-loud slam behind them.

But they’re not worried about the noise attracting attention. Most of the students are staying within their own classrooms, ignoring whatever odd sounds they might hear as the ghost alarm goes off in the background. The harsh, blinking lights cast odd shadows on Danny’s face, making Tucker queasy for a minute as they prop his body up against the wall below the whiteboard.

“How long?” he asks, panting heavily and trying to catch his breath.

“Two minutes and forty-five seconds,” she says with a grin as she sits down next to him. “Pretty sure that’s a new record.”

“Nah, we did it in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds last month, remember?” he says as he sits down beside her and starts to unpack his backpack. The defibrillator is buried at the bottom, tucked beneath his things. It’s the smallest one they could find that’s still effective, even if they’re not exactly using it for its intended purpose, and Sam carries another just in case. For a normal person, it wouldn’t be possible to restart their heart and lungs with an electric shock, despite what the movies claim, but for Danny? Electricity is the only thing that works, the only thing that will bind his spirit back to his corpse as it infuses and activates the ectoplasm flooding his blood stream.

The Fentons could no doubt provide a scientific explanation as to why and how it works, but to Tucker, it’s an odd kind of magic, of horrifying necromancy as they forcibly, painfully force the electricity to run through him again, so similar to the accident that caused this problem in the first place. It’s only by chance that they know it works, having tried the defibrillator hanging on the lab wall in the basement after he came out of the portal and his body fell to the ground as his ghost hovered over it in shock. He didn’t give it much thought the first time. Tucker merely assumed the movies were right and that they restarted Danny’s heart. It wasn’t until later that they learned the truth.

With practiced ease he pulls Danny’s old NASA t-shirt off, and then scowls as he notices that Danny’s wearing a new necklace with a constellation on it that Tucker probably should know the name of after being Danny’s friend for so many years but doesn’t. “Great. More stuff to take off. Wonder who gave it to him,” he grumbles, twisting it around in his fingers until he finds the clasp and removes it. He checks him over for any more metal and finds none. “How long now?”

“Four minutes,” says Sam, and he nods. They worry one day it’ll be too long, that there will be no forcibly stitching his soul and body back together, that all will remain is a ghost and the body of a boy who’s been dead for longer than anyone knows. The longest Danny’s ever gone is thirty-three minutes, yet they were still able to bring him back that day even as it seemed to take longer than usual. But there’s no one they can ask for help or advice, no one that’s dealt with this before besides them and Jazz, and none of them trust the Fenton parents enough to not shoot their own son in the face if they learn the truth. Because so far, at least, when Danny’s back he is alive again. He’s grown a few inches since this started a year ago. He’s been forced to get his usual haircuts, to trim his nails when they get too long. His heart beats within his chest, and he breathes and smiles and laughs like there’s nothing different, nothing wrong, and absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about him.

They shift Danny again, laying him down flat on the floor on his back as Tucker kneels down beside him and sets up the defibrillator and sticks the pads to Danny’s chest. There’s nothing they can do until he returns, so they wait, Tucker drumming his fingers against the side of his leg as Sam continues to glance at her watch every few seconds. “Did you hear that they’re remaking the first Nightmerica movie?” he asks, looking for any distraction he can.

“Ughh, yeah,” she groans. “Which completely misses the point of why it’s so good in the first place. I don’t want a modern version with modern effects. I want cheesy 80s costumes and music and horror and the chance to cheer as stuck-up cheerleaders get murdered. I mean I guess there’s a chance they’ll keep the original charm, but I doubt it.”

“Yeah, there’s already rumors that they’re casting, like, Scarlett Johanson as Nightmerica,” adds Tucker. “Doesn’t really bode well.”

“Seriously? If she gets cast, I’m just going to nope right out, pretend it doesn’t exist, and hope everyone else does the same,” she says, and then goosebumps erupt across their skin as the temperature in the room drops precipitously as Phantom enters the classroom, phasing through the wall.

He looks rougher than usual as ectoplasm drips from his arms and chest, deep claw marks gouging through the thin black and white hazmat suit he wears even now. His eyes are consumed with green light, his hair floating over his head and flickering like sparks, and there’s a faint hint of white beneath the dark suit, of the shape of bones even as Phantom is nothing but ectoplasm. “Rough fight?” he asks.

There’s heavy static behind each word. Talking to him like this is almost useless. They can’t understand the ghost speech, the odd echoes and noise and whirring, and trying to teach Danny sign language or morse code or any other method of communication when he’s whole again is worthless, none of the knowledge transferring to his ghostly self, the wall between his two halves too solid for even Phantom to phase through. They don’t know why Phantom is one of the only ghosts that can’t speak without the noise and distortion, that can’t make his words understood, but it’s a truth that’s held fast for as long as Danny’s been like this.

But Tucker’s gotten better at reading his unnatural body language, the way he twists upside down and curls his tail around himself as his sharp, pointed teeth flash. “Sorry, man,” he says. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

They don't know why he feels compelled to fight the other ghosts. They don't even know what triggers the transformation, even as they've come to recognize the warning signs, like the odd vacant stare that sets in, the way Danny’s hackles almost seem to rise as he silently snarls. And it's not as if Danny can tell them.

Phantom whispers something in response, the words still lost in the static, and then he floats over to himself, putting a hand over his own corpse, because as hard as it is for Tucker to think of it that way, he knows, on some level, that’s what Danny's body is without Phantom. There’s no life in it, no presence, no spirit. It’s merely flesh, an empty vessel, and he shudders to think what could happen if another ghost found him like this, if he might be able to possess him somehow.

"We're at nine minutes," says Sam, and Phantom lets out something like a sigh as he floats back into the corpse. Danny's eyes snap open, green and glowing, and they move quickly.

Unlike the one in the lab that was old and lacked the safety features of most modern AEDs, they had to make a few modifications to this one to get it to work. A modern defibrillator won't let someone shock a body with no heartbeat. Messing with the tech felt dicey, but they couldn't find any other methods to safely deliver a shock to him that wouldn't risk their own safety, too.

The pads are already placed, and he pushes the button, biting his lip as he waits. It delivers the first shock, but aside from a twitch in his shoulders and a confirmation from the AED, there's little to no sign it happened.

A hiss of soft static, and Tucker understands the meaning despite the noise, a bitter plea for them to do it again. It takes three shocks before they see it, the strange white light around his midsection, and Tucker turns off the AED as he and Sam scramble a few steps back.

The light spreads, eventually too bright for them to bear the sight of it as little arcs of electricity dance along Danny's skin, and when it finally stops he's sitting up, staring vacantly. The daze won't last, but they take this moment to put away the defibrillator, removing the pads from his chest. Tucker puts the necklace back on, his fingers shaking as he snaps the clasp together. Much as he tries to act like this doesn’t bother him anymore, he can’t contain his relief at seeing Danny sitting up again, his chest slowly moving with each breath, his pulse steady beneath his wrist and neck.

They've just pulled his shirt on when he blinks, and Danny looks down at his hands, wincing as he touches his chest. "I feel like I got run over by the GAV," he groans, and Tucker forces himself to chuckle.

"You might as well have. You hit the floor hard when you fainted," says Tucker. The injuries are never there, but some phantom pain always seems to remain as his ghost heals. "I'm sorry we never manage to catch you, man. I know it’s gotta hurt."

"It's fine," mumbles Danny. "How long was I out?"

"About ten minutes," says Sam. She doesn’t point out that they time this, now, down to the second. It’s not as if timing it changes anything, but it makes them feel better when they revive Danny in under twenty minutes. More than that and they start to worry. Tucker’s still not sure how Danny doesn’t have any brain damage at this point from the lack of oxygen.

Danny hums, flexing his fingers for a minute as the ghost alarm shuts down. "I . . . Doesn't it seem like this is getting worse? I can't even remember seeing a ghost. I . . . I never can."

"You know this messes with your memory–"

"Yeah, but that makes this seem more like I'm having seizures or something, not fainting. And it's always one of you or Jazz when I wake up, which seems weird, maybe? I just . . . Maybe we should tell my parents," he whispers, and Tucker's heart aches.

"I don't think that's a good idea–" begins Sam, but he cuts her off.

"--why not?" He looks between the two of them, scowling, his fists now clenched. "What aren't you telling me?"

He and Sam exchange a long look. It always comes to this eventually, yet despite their best efforts, it's pointless. Some part of Danny refuses to hear the truth, to acknowledge that he died or at least half-died in the portal, and within an hour he always forgets they even discussed this at all. They don't know why. They've proven over and over again that they accept him and love him despite how he’s changed. But the wall is still too solid to break through.

They should explain it to Danny again anyway. Tucker knows that. But he's so tired of repeating himself, and he knows Sam is, too. Jazz says his psyche needs more time to process and accept the truth, but it's been a year with no sign of things changing.

Sam eventually sighs, forcing the words out. She's always been the strongest of the three of them in more ways than one. "A year ago, you had an accident. You were hurt badly, and we saved you, but–"

The door swings open suddenly, and he sees Mr. Lancer there, the relief evident on his face. "Lord of the Flies! Is everyone okay?" he asks as he takes in the sight of the three of them on the floor. At least the AED is back in Tucker's bag and out of sight, since Tucker doubts Mr. Lancer would be willing to ignore what that might signify if he saw it.

"We're fine," says Sam. "We thought we heard the ghost and hid. I'm sorry we worried you."

"Somehow that always seems to happen with the three of you," he says with a frown, clearly questioning it, but thankfully he doesn't push it further. "But I’m glad that you’re safe, at least, and now that the ghost is gone you three need to get to class."

"Okay." They stand up, and Tucker can see the worry and distrust as Danny clenches his jaw and refuses to look at them as he heads out into the hallway. But that’s not the worst part. No, it’s knowing that by the time lunch rolls around, Danny won’t remember his suspicions or his fears. They’ll be pushed down, slowly hidden beneath the protective part of his mind that refuses to let him know the truth, and instead of questioning why he constantly faints whenever there’s a ghost, why he has strange aches and pains, and why he often sets off his parents’ equipment even when he’s human again, he’ll talk to them about the latest video games and movies and gossip and homework.

He desperately wants his friend to know the truth. It hurts, even as he knows they’re not lying to Danny about what’s happening, that they’ve tried to explain it before. And despite how naturally taking care of his body comes to him and Sam now, despite knowing the signs that herald Phantom’s emergence, Tucker knows they can’t keep this a secret forever. Inevitably, they won’t be there one day, they’ll miss an obvious sign, or someone like Lancer will walk in a little too soon. And once they learn the truth, he and Sam and Jazz know that Danny will be taken from them as he’s locked away in a lab by the GIW or his parents and becomes some gruesome science experiment, tortured as he can’t even remember the reason why.

More and more Tucker’s beginning to think they’re running out of time. They need to find a way. They need to get Danny to understand who and what he is so he can protect himself, because Tucker’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the lie, too.

EDIT: I wrote a Part Two, it's here.

#danny phantom #angstfest2023 #my writing #no one knows au #just this time it's Danny who's clueless #corpse au #electric core au #if you squint #probably medical inaccuracies #very mild gore #tucker pov #again #i might do a second part for this for the everyone knows au bit #but i'm not sure yet #i might cross post this to ao3 after editing it more too

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