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Photo Opportunities	By : rinflowers1986 Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom > Slash - Male/Male Views: 16598 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
The Nasty Burger was crowded with hungry protesters and heart-sign wielders talking amiably amongst themselves about the pros and cons of a ghostly superhero.

It was also crowded with protesters and sign wielders talking not so nicely with each other.

And when Danny’s little group made the drastic mistake of marching right through those doors and into the fray, they were immediately noticed and swarmed upon. Amidst the shouted requests for autographs, questions about his powers, and angry condemning cries, Danny not thinking, grabbed Kwan’s arm and hid behind him, causing the larger boy to startle and accidentally whip his arm out in front of him to regain balance, knocking a soda off a tray and splattering it across several people and signs and within seconds there were shouts and movements and Danny had to scramble to grab Sam, who was still attached to Paulina, Ashley, and the scowling Star, and phase out of the building before things got physical.

Latched to Kwan, with the chain of girls on his other arm, Danny settled all of them on the roof with a wide-eyed, breathless expression. Dash and Tucker were still inside, but they were at the back of the group and had barely gotten through the doors before Danny had to make his getaway. He saw them leave quickly and, careful not to be noticed, told Sam to call them to meet by the dumpster out back.

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Ashley said irritably, clutching at Paulina’s hand as Danny dropped them on solid ground, as a solid themselves thankfully. She flung the hand away once she had good footing and stomped off. Danny never really knew her well, so he didn’t feel bad about her unfavorable rock star experience, but the pout on Kwan's face said she was probably one of his short-term relationships. Dude could not keep a girl.

“Good riddance.” Sam muttered, then turned to her Hispanic leech. “Don’t suppose you’d be joining her?” she asked through half of her mouth. Paulina just blinked at her, the corners of her friendly smile hardening just slightly.

(Ashley is the name of a minor character in the series like Mikey and Lester)
-

“I suppose bag lunching it on the roof of the school wasn’t so bad.” Star said as they all walked back to their classes.

“Are you kidding me, that was wicked cool. I’ve never been on the roof before. Awesome!” Kwan swatted Danny’s shoulder. “Dude lets lunch there again tomorrow.”

Danny chuckled nervously, but agreed. Sam and Paulina were up ahead talking together, what looked like a heated argument, albeit a hushed one, and Tucker was fiddling with his PDA, effectively ignoring the world. Dash was standing on the other side of Kwan, obviously refusing to get anywhere closer than a single person’s distance away from him. He had said very little over lunch, but since the other members of the group had talked enough amongst themselves to fill the silence of a graveyard; it had gone unnoticed by everyone but Danny.

Perhaps if they did do lunch again tomorrow, he’d open up more. Maybe all he needed was, as he said, a little time to settle in.

Danny rather needed that himself.

-

The next morning Danny had found the same thing, albeit on a smaller scale. His parents had hired security after a large brick with the word DEMON had been thrown through their living room window, he met them when he returned home, and they seemed to keep everything passive, simultaneously preserving the right to peaceful protest and the right to privacy.

Three of them asked for his autograph, one of them specifying that they wanted Fenton, not Phantom. Danny smiled at that, and at their request to drive him to school. To “prevent harassment from helicopters” they explained. So he allowed himself to be led out the back door and around to a large black SUV that had probably never seen a dirt road, much less driven down it. He answered the questions the three had about him and his powers to the best of his ability, and as they escorted him through another mob outside the school, also diminishing, he was handed a tiny silver Pantech c300, charger, and spare battery and informed that they would be there after school to pick him up.

Apparently, if he was going to leave to fight ghosts or, they added with almost identical smiles, any other reason, he was to call them and let them know so they didn’t break into the school to track him down. Danny accepted it with a semi-grateful smile, shoved it in his pocket, then headed off to class.

The halls weren’t crowded, Danny was supposed to come to school from now on a few minutes after the bell rang to avoid the rally of students no doubt waiting for him. So aside from a few hall monitors, a custodian, and two sophomore potheads coming out of a smoky bathroom, he had no one to bother him.

He smiled a little to himself as he headed up the stairs. Things weren’t really so bad, a little annoying, and maybe just a tad bit stressful, but if the dissolving crowd outside was any indication, in a week or so, things may just be back to normal.

Well, not normal normal, but at the very least not Rock Star Jesus famous anymore.

He couldn’t help but grin at that thought, ‘rock star Jesus, seriously.’ He shook his head and turned a corner at the second floor.

And heard voices.

He stopped, not so much ducking back around the turn, but certainly not going forward. There were two people talking in the hallway, he didn’t recognize the back of the one nearest him, he was dressed in a really ugly dark blue suit-jacket and black slacks so he assumed he was either a teacher, or someone else trying to look professional while shopping in the bargain bin. It almost matched, if you tossed the pants in the washer with a few drops of bleach.

Ugly mismatched suit or not, he was tall, with short black hair and shoulders so broad Danny couldn’t see but a fourth of the hallway around him, certainly couldn’t see who he was talking to. He was leaning back as he stood, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, and one cuff of his slacks had bunched up and tucked itself into the heal of a shiny black shoe.

“Mr. Showenhower, while I appreciate someone of your high standing and prominence being willing enough to deal with the day-to-day angst and drama of high school students, I’m afraid I have to protest your methods in which to counsel.”

Danny finally let the conversation drifted into his ears, the voice belonged to Principal Ishiyama, and it seemed she was having some problems with the new councilor.

“I honestly don’t see what the problem is here, Miss Ishiyama, the children come to me with their problems, I explain them, help them, and send them on their way, back to your teachers and classrooms, feeling relieved and focused.”

“The delicate problems of teenagers cannot simply be explained away with textbook definitions and analytical phrases Mr. Showenhower.”

“The anxiety of the hormonal youth, especially in the seemingly tyrannical environment of public schools, is never something that any textbook could adequately describe, Principal.” He said Principal with the strange, perfect pronunciation of someone not entirely familiar with the language. Carefully weighing the words on their tongue to make sure they felt right in the sentence, and wasn’t being used inappropriately. “I understand you believe that I should sit there and listen to them cry and rant and gabber, but that’s not what they want.” He kept his hands behind his back the entire time, but Danny had the distinct impression that he was jutting a finger right into Principal Ishiyama’s large chest. “If they just wanted an ear, they’d go online and blog. What they need from a school councilor, from anyone they share their problems with, is an answer to their questions. Why do they feel like this, what could they do to make it stop, do they want to make it stop.”

“They need to know their problems cannot simply be treated like some illness and disappear.” The principal interrupted and Showenhower shifted just slightly, moving his weight from one foot to the other, just enough so that Danny could see her. “What will they do after high school, after college, when they find there isn’t some psychological Band-Aid they can have prescribed by their resident shrink?” She chopped one hand down onto a flat palm. “They need to learn discipline, both physical and mental, in order to overcome the problems they face, and they can’t do that if every time they reach a wall they have to scale, you show them how to shy from it until someone tosses down a tether.”

Danny saw the back of Mr. Showenhower’s shoulders rise and then settle back in their place as he let out a sigh. “Principal” he said, this time in a chastising tone. “Do not mistake my advice as some harness with which to haul them up over their problems. Instead, visualize a jackhammer, one they can use to dig their way through it.”

Ishiyama looked like she would have said more, but her eyes caught Danny’s and her spine stiffened. Danny, careful not to let his face show the ‘caught in the cookie jar’ expression his subconscious was now wearing, stepped forward as if he had only just paused in surprise at the corner.

“Good morning Principal Ishiyama.” He said in what he hoped was his usual voice. He had very rarely talked with her unless he was in trouble.

Showenhower turned and Danny finally saw his face. It was pale, whiter even then his own and he didn’t think people came any whiter than him and his family. Surprise flashed through him, that little tinkling bell of familiarity started chiming in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t place where he might have seen him.

“Good morning Danny.” The principal cooed in her high pitched sugar-rush voice. Something in the tone, however, suggested it was forced. That, and how she quickly turned to Showenhower and excused herself. “I have some work to be doing, we’ll continue our little chat later Mr. Showenhower. Now don’t forget my suggestions.”

Danny watched her walk hurriedly down the hallway, her sensible shoes clacking against the linoleum as she descended the stairs.

“Mr. Fenton.” A rich voice pulled his attention away from the high-strung woman. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” He held out a large pale hand and Danny stared at it.

“No, we haven’t,” he said before gripping the man’s hand and pumping it twice. His hold was firm, authoritative, but didn’t invite a challenged of strength like some teacher’s did. Maybe because he didn’t want his hand broken by the town’s superhero? Whatever, Danny purposefully kept his hand limp. The annoying buzz in his head telling him he should know this man was starting to frustrate him, and when he was frustrated, he was suspicious.

“I’m Alfred, Alfred Showenhower.” He waited, either for Danny to introduce himself, which was stupid since he had already called him Mr. Fenton, or he was waiting to see if the student recognized his name. Considering Ishiyama had said he was a prominent psychologist, he figured the later, but he introduced himself anyway.

“Danny,” was all he said in reply.

“Danny,” Mr. Showenhower repeated, then spoke again. “Danny, to tell the truth I had believed you would be one of my most frequent visitors when I had first come on here almost a month ago.” He obviously figured he now had permission to call him by first name. If one of his other teachers, like Mr. Lancer, had done it he would have figured it meant they were talking on a level of equality and familiarity, coming from a school shrink he just met, it felt dumb.

“Yeah, they’ve tried to send me to a bunch of ya.” He said, letting the irritation seep into his voice. If this guy thought he’d spill to him about fighting ghosts and family matters, he’d have a serious disappointment. The last thing he wanted was an earful of psychobabble analyzing and explaining away his every action.

“Oh, no doubt, but that was before anybody new you’re career.” Danny felt like snorting at the label, but restrained himself. “I honestly don’t imagine you’ll be needing any kind of counsel, and I hope you don’t end up being sent by some arrogant teacher.” He patted Danny’s shoulder and started moving away. “But feel free to stop by and talk sometime, and tell your sister I enjoyed her Thesis paper.”

He walked away, hands in his ugly jacket pockets.

“Okay, filing that under things that creep me.” Danny muttered, then he remembered the time and swore, turning to sprint down the hallway in the direction of his class.

-

The windows of his third period shook, distracting several students from their assignment, then Danny’s cell phone and ghost sense went off at the same time.

Eyes stared at him as, in the middle of class he flipped open his phone and transformed, flying out through the roof, barely able to make out his mother’s voice amongst the cheering students.

Several yards above the school he scanned his surroundings, listening to his mother rattle about a ghost sighting in the area around the school. Considering his ghost sense was still a point blank security alarm he was more than certain she was right.

He flipped the phone closed and flew a corkscrew around Casper High’s main building, ignoring the roar from the camping protesters out front at the sight.

“Hey dipstick!” Ember shouted, and he turned just in time to see gloved fingers strumming a cord on her guitar. Sound waves tinted acidic pink made ripples through the air, slamming into him with the force of a semi truck driven by a zombified drunk driver. Danny flew backward into an apartment building across the street, concrete and plaster crunching beneath him.

“Oh my god!” he heard and he squinted out through watering eyes at the blurry upside down world. Oh wait, no it was just he who was upside-down. “Its Ember!” he looked up, or down really, to see Dash and Kwan among several other looky-loos too stupid to fight the elementary school impulse to watch fights.

It was a ghost fight, and yet students were pouring out of the building and running towards him, rather than away.

At least Ember looked like she wanted them around here as much as he did. “Fans.” She rolled her eyes and sent a grin his way when he finally managed to peel himself from the side of the apartment. He somehow dodged her next attack, keeping himself separated from his imprint in the concrete, and using a zigzag motion zoomed at her, fist glowing bright green.

She dodged, putting as much distance between them as possible. Ember knew she didn’t stand much chance in a close quarters brawl. She was a distance fighter, her guitar’s sound waves strongest at several yards away.

There were chants now, of both their names, and while Ember looked incredibly pleased by this, and her hair was starting to lengthen, Danny’s mood just got worse and worse. You would think it was a vs. comic; Ember vs. Danny Phantom, make your bets.

He crossed his arms out in front of him just in time for a rather strong note, but instead of a flat shield to protect him, he tried something new. He focused, and curved his energy into a circular shape. The sound waves hit him, and sent him back a ways through the air and into a streetlight, tilting the wood to the side and causing a bird to immediately evacuate. Ember, however, had it worse.

The shield had acted like a sound dome, focusing the waves back at her in a wider range. She was knocked to the ground, cracking the concrete and sliding some yards, ending up in a cluster of trash bins set out on the curb to be collected.

Danny hit the ground with a thud, but also some satisfaction at seeing Ember covered in gooey coffee grounds and a half eaten peanut butter covered slice of bread sticking to her cheek.

He stood, patted his thighs to be rid of invisible dust, and kicked off; flying at her while she was still getting up from the refuse.

She saw him, and jumped, he flew through where she had been kneeling and managed to get his feet under him and skid to a stop before he landed in traffic. Not that there was any traffic, seeing as people had stopped their cars in the middle of the road to watch the fight. So really, he stopped himself from slamming face first into a minivan.

Kwan and Dash were standing on that street corner, watching Ember hover in the air, not even noticing Danny was standing right beside them. Everyone else had had the good sense to scatter when they saw him flying in the direction, and were now on the other side of the intersection.

“We Love You Emb-!” Danny smacked a hand over their mouths so fast one could hear the connection.

“In case you two HAVENT noticed, Ember is a ghost who’s trying to destroy the town, and who happens to gain power from the SHOUTING of her NAME!” He spat at them. “So it would be very, very helpful if you two would SHUT UP!”

Dash scowled, his face twisting into an expression Danny well recognized, he was pissed, Kwan just looked startled, he imagined it was because the jock had been so engrossed in his fanboy-ish behavior Danny appeared to have cropped up out of nothing. Which, in this town wasn’t completely inconceivable.

He removed his hands and while Kwan remained silent, a trickle of sweat dribbling down from his hairline, Dash couldn’t wait to take a deep breath, open his mouth, and scream:

“Ember! Ember!! EMB—”

Danny grabbed Kwan's hand this time and shoved it across Dash’s mouth, but the muffled shouts continued. Dash’s fists clenched at his sides.

Danny glared at Kwan, “Keep it there.” And then ducked just as Ember slammed down her Guitar in a sword-like fashion, sparking little flickers of pink against the concrete Danny had just been standing on, and making the two boys back up a couple of steps.

Danny flew off, Ember chasing, until they were so far away from the crowd that all that could be seen were stick-like shadows and shoots of pink and green.

And Dash just kept raging against Kwan's hand, shouting stifled “EMBERS” until his face was so red it almost matched his jacket. Finally when it seemed he was too out of breath to do anymore shouting Kwan removed his hand and wiped it on his jeans. He looked at Dash incredulously.

“Dude, I think you should maybe visit the school councilor.”

Dash turned his scowl from the sky to his friend, and let it darken.

-

Danny practically did the cha-cha on his way back to class. “Ghost defeated: check, parents embarrassing antics avoided: check, a thoroughly won over public,” he waved to a hall monitor, who ‘eeped’, blushed, and ducked into the girl’s bathroom, “uh…check I guess.” He stuck his head through the wall to Sam’s current period class. “Get the girl? Double check.” He straightened, and started in the direction of his own class again. “All that’s left is homework.”

A tall, blurred figure passed through the hallway in front of him. Startled he stopped, and watched as the strange shadow darted between the classes, finally coming to stop in front of a door, and then slipping through it.

Danny looked, then touched his neck and coughed. No burping gasp-like blue emission, no chill, no tingle. Was it his imagination? He shook himself, walking up to the door and reading the lettering. DR. Alfred Showenhower.

Freaky new school councilor, now strange shadowy hallucinations, hm, not déjà vu exactly, but certainly no coincidence.

Danny transformed and slipped inside as careful as possible, making sure to stay invisible and near the ceiling. There was only a single voice, mumbling to itself. Danny noticed that, unlike Mrs. Spectra, Mr. Showenhower kept the room warm, and dark. He hovered there a few minutes, but he couldn’t make out any coherent words in the mumbling, and he couldn’t see a thing but shadows against shadows.

Just when he was getting frustrated, a knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Showenhower?” Dash peeked in through the door, blinking against the darkness.

“Come in, come in Mr. Baxter.” The voice behind the desk called. Dash walked in and almost tripped over a box. “Oh, do forgive the mess. I’ve not completely situated myself, so many books, so much to read and enjoy.” Dash and Danny both blinked when a desk lamp turned on, flooding eyes, and the room, with a soft yellow light. “Fascinating subject isn’t it,” a book was closed, and Danny finally could see the counselor as a big chair spun around, “the human conscience.”

Danny suddenly had the feeling of displacement. This office didn’t look at all like it belonged in the school. It was as if he had suddenly stepped into one of his Vlad’s offices. Hard to believe that just beyond the door behind him was the bright, cheerful, and somewhat noisy hallway of Casper High.

“Um, yeah I guess.” Dash mumbled. Danny was getting sick of mumbling. “I…I needed to kind of talk to you.” He said uncomfortably.

“Yes, I figured you would” Showenhower rested his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers beneath his chin. “Come, sit, and tell me your woes.”

Dash took the seat across from the rich brown desk, ramrod spine and shoulders stiff. “I, well it’s just that I’ve always… Well I’ve admired Danny Phantom for a long time, since well almost since he first started coming around this town, and I’ve pretty much picked on Fenton since we first met.” He began.

“Ah yes, conflicting emotions I see.” Mr. Showenhower smiled knowingly. “Now that you’ve found Mr. Fenton and the hero Danny Phantom is one in the same, you don’t quite know how to act, don’t know if you should treat Phantom as Fenton or Fenton as Phantom.” He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yes, exactly.” Dash affirmed. “I see him, and I just, I get so confused. Usually when I see Fenton around I don’t hesitate in wailing on him.” He punched his hand. “But lately.” He stared down at his connected fist in his palm, curling his opposite fingers around his knuckles. “Lately I still get the urge, like I don’t quite remember, or my body doesn’t, and I start walking towards him, or I glare at him, like I’m really pissed or something, and then I remember, and stop. Like..” he let his hands relax in his lap. “Like when you live in one place all your life, and then suddenly you move, and some days you still get up thinking “I’m gonna run over to this place or that store or visit this friend, and you take a few steps and then it hits you, you can’t, because you don’t live where they are anymore.” He sighed. “Does that make any sense?”

“Actually, it makes plenty of sense.” Mr. Showenhower reclined in his seat. “It’s common, especially among those with dramatic changes in their lives such as losing a family member, a loved pet, or yes even moving. We humans are habitual creatures, going about our days in a scheduled pattern even when we don’t try, and everything in our environment fits into that set pattern. Should even one thing be changed, it leaves a sense of displacement, or wrongness, and we find ourselves a bit lost.” He lowered his arms to the desk and looked at Dash directly. “It sometimes makes us angry and confused, frustrated, even ill tempered and violent; tell me is that how you feel?”

“Well, yeah, but I always feel that way ‘bout Fenton.” He shrugged. “Rubs me the wrong way, you know? Ever since we met, him and that Foley kid, how they were always so close and always kind of off together, and then Manson came in freshman year and it was just the three of them and just, well, I guess it’s…”

“Were you perhaps…envious of him?” Showenhower offered.

Danny jolted, and glanced at Dash, waiting for his response.

“What? No pfft.” Dash laughed and Danny relaxed. “That’s not it at all. I first started picking on him cause he quit the volleyball team.” Dash explained. “My girlfriend loved the game and when he quit our team lost ever since and she was really upset, so I beat him up for her…and well it just went from there.” He laughed a bit through his nose. “Bruising him just became kind of a pastime. Whenever he’s around I get all agitated and a little overheated and sometimes my brain gets kind of fuzzy. To bring up those stupid movie clichés, yeah it did make me feel better, when I pushed him around I mean.”

“Physical exertion is a good outlet.” The counselor nodded. “I’m not saying your bullying is right, of course.” Danny snorted, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, but neither of the two seemed to have noticed. “But it’s true that people often release their frustrations in some kind of activity or another. All that energy you can’t get rid of in your sports, well you let it out on your fellow students. And now, now you find your one source of comfort taken from you.

“Many bullies find themselves in such a place, sometimes when their chosen outlet moves or more often when they commit suicide.” Dash tensed at the word and Danny scowled at the councilor. “And in this case, when your victim, becomes your hero.” He got up. “You found yourself in the precarious position of comic book antagonist, the school bully of everybody’s hero, like Spiderman’s Flash.” He came around and placed a hand on Dash’s shoulders. “Do you know what happened to Flash Mr. Baxter?” he asked.

Dash shrugged. “Never been a fan of comics, those are for nerds.”

“Yes well, you, as it appears, are much like him, admiring your hero, while simultaneously becoming his alter ego’s tormentor.” He squeezed Dash’s shoulders once more before relinquishing them and turning to his large bookshelf. “You’ll have to take a few steps young man, quite a few.” He pulled one out and opened it, fingering through pages. “Unlike Flash, you didn’t have the chance to develop a friendship with your hero; you just had the whole thing dumped on you.” His lips quirked up. “But you can fix that.”

Dash stood. “What are you talking about?” he asked, fist clenching. “You’re saying I should make friends with Fenton?” he demanded. “After everything I’ve put him through you think I can actually do that? This isn’t some comic you Shrink, this is real life, aren’t you supposed to know this?”

Showenhower nodded his head and snapped the book closed. “Yes, I’m supposed to.” He placed the book back on the shelf and stepped back, facing away from Dash. “Fascinating, isn’t it Mr. Baxter?” He repeated his question from earlier. “The human conscience. You know, all these years of studying, I have yet to understand what in the human mind decides if you move on, or remain in this plain of existence.”

“Wha, what?” Dash was lost, he backed up a foot.

“Some say it’s a soul, and it just may have been, but your Danny, he throws it so far out of balance. Half ghost is essentially half-dead isn’t it? How can he have such powers, how can he even exist?” He turned, his eyes hard, critical. “I’ve studied ghosts all my life, was forced to as a child by my parents, and now, everything I’ve learned, everything I believed, is thrown into question by the existence of one anomaly”

“Who the hell are you?” Dash yelled, “What are you talking about? What’s Fenton got to do with any of that? I thought we were talking about my problems.”

“Oh, we are Mr. Baxter.” Showenhower smiled, and Danny felt a cold presence behind his back. “We are.”

And then there was nothing. He hadn’t had the chance to feel anything but a sudden painful heat, and then the black hardened, and froze. There was no floating, no fight against encroaching night, no traversing through his subconscious. There wasn’t really anything.

His mind simply ceased all thought.

Well, almost all…

“Leave him.”

“why…finish…im off.”

“Pain…psychological…strain…Ember…”

“…control…”

“Fenton!”

“Shut....oh for the lo….gag him.”

“Fenton…Fenton…er..Fenton…Mr. Fenton hear...”

“Mr. Fenton?” A cold cloth on his forehead and neck, water dribbling on his face, he blinked up. “Mr. Fenton can you hear me?” It was the nurse and Mr. Lancer.

“Sweetie can you tell me your name?” The nurse asked.

He blinked at her, and then answered. “Danny.”

“And your last name?”

“Fenton.”

“Good.” She rewet the cold cloth; it was like a baby-wipe kind of napkin, and swabbed at his forehead. “What’s your birthday?”

He told her.

“Can you remember where you are?”

“Um…the nurses office?” He glanced around, no, he wasn’t there. “No wait…I’m…I’m in the counselors…” And then he remembered.

Mr. Lancer had to retrain him when he bolted up, shouting half sentences. “Dash! Where’s Dash? Showenhower! Did he hurt..?! Where’s Dash?” Danny struggled against Lancer, before kicking the teacher off him to several feet away, he didn’t even remember transforming, and bolting out of the office.

He skidded on the linoleum, his legs wobbling and moving in all kinds of directions, he hit the wall and then pushed off, keeping moving, shouting, he didn’t even know what he was saying.

He saw Ishiyama with a terrified look, then watched as a teacher pulled the fire alarm and heard a ghost alarm go off not too far behind it.

Kids scattered out of his way, he didn’t register their faces, but heard screams of fright. He didn’t see a ghost anywhere, so didn’t understand what it was all about, but he had to find Showenhower. Had to get Dash. Had to figure out what they were planning. Whoever they were.

“DASH?!” He screamed as he burst through the front doors, seeing a huge crowd out front he charged into them, intent on leaving the school grounds.

“Danny Phantom! Evil! We Love you! Freak! DEMON! Will you sign my THE POWER OF CRIST COMPELLS YOU!!!!!”

He was hit with something, something heavy, and hard, and right on the back of his head. And suddenly he was on the ground and there was screams and stomping and when he looked up he saw someone was standing, no hovering above him.

Ember smiled, fingers gliding across strings, the world turned pink and then the stomping feet were moving from concrete, to him.

Pain.

Then darkness, once again his mind was gone.

And then he was there again, as smoothly, as quickly, as a blink.

Danny’s welcome back to earth party consisted of a pounding headache, pain EVERYWHERE, lots and lots of noise, and an overwhelming darkness. He was blindfolded, and strapped down, and the world of night and clamor were certainly not helping his headache.

“Danny.” He heard a voice ask softly and he opened his eyes, and wow, there was the world. True, his eyes were only slits, and he had to close them immediately after because of the brightness and because they were just so damn heavy, but at least he wasn’t blindfolded as he originally thought. With a deep, painful breath he tried again, and this time was able to make out the world around him, thankfully not made of eternal night. It lasted all of three seconds.

“Hey dude, how you feel?” He opened his eyes again to see one of his ‘bodyguards’, the other two were on the other side of his bed, taking turns at watching him, and glaring at the group huddled at the entrance to the nurses office.

Hey, he knew he was in the nurse’s office! Yay for good memory, now if he could only remember why he was here. Time had touched his mind, snatched several hours from him by the look of the clock. Whatever had happened to him, it had knocked him out good, and left him with one hell of a hangover.

“Ember escaped.” One said. “Your parents are searching for her. We haven’t told them you’re hurt yet, it would distract them.”

The second guard, yeah Danny figured he’d just call them One, Two, and Three until he could remember their names, picked up the explanation. “She appeared at your school, we assume for a rematch, and that’s when you came outside. She…she took control of the crowd.”

“Control…” Danny said aloud, wondering why that word hammered at his abused mind.

Guard number Three didn’t say anything, and when he glanced at Danny he gave off the feeling of…distraction.

A commotion at the door explained why.

“GIW, everyone freeze!” A group of large men in pure white uniforms, outshone only by their impeccably polished weapons, crowded into the room, shoving aside principal, nurse, teachers, and various other onlookers. The third bodyguard swung his arm out in front of the two others as they stood, ready to defend him. They stared at him, Danny as well, and he pulled open his leather jacket to reveal…a GIW badge.

He saluted to what Danny assumed was the boss, then he and two others escorted his guards out into the hallway.

Danny stared wide eyed at the bulky figures, almost trembling beneath the thin sheets of the nurse’s office bed. The first three moved quickly, scrambling around the room in quick, controlled steps and checking everything from the windows and vents to beneath the beds and even unplugging the phone.

When that was done they nodded to each other, then turned to nod to the other two still in the doorway, then moved to stand on either side of his bed, their large, shiny weapons ready in their hands.

Principal Ishiyama looked positively furious, but held her tongue as the agents did their job. Lancer, however, was far from quiet. He could be heard just outside, speaking with whomever it was that had come with the goons.

“Um..” Danny began, sitting up with some difficulty. “So, what brings you guys here?” He asked.

He recognized the two on either side of him as the ones always after him; though the one at the foot of the bed was unfamiliar, he was probably at the same rank. None of them answered right away, then the darker of the two spoke hushed, as if he wasn’t supposed to say anything.

“We’re here to get you out.” He explained. “The government has deemed your presence here too dangerous.”

“Wah?” Danny jolted, ready to screech in his defense, but a firm hand pushed him back to the bed, he shot a glance at the second agent, expecting a gun in his face for his sudden movements. Instead he saw a strange concerned expression.

“This limited environment has too many openings, too easy for you to be attacked.” He elaborated, then shooting a glare at the principal, “and not just from ghosts.”

Danny’s head felt smothered. He griped his brow with one hand as he tried to process this new development. The Guys in White, here, at his school, helping him? And Dash, was Dash okay? Was he hurt, what did Showenhower want with an ordinary human teenager?

“We’ll get Showenhower.” The three agents said in unison, then looked at each other. Danny didn’t know if he had asked the question out loud, or if maybe all four of them were perhaps thinking along the same lines, but the roaring sound, coming from just beneath his ears, was swooping in fast and his eyes were watering from the strain of watching them.

“Your little friend is going to be fine.” The unfamiliar one assured, patting his foot.

“He’s not my…eah.” And he was back in the darkness.

-

Some things have come up at home that is preventing me from finishing the chapter at this time. I cut this off here because it’s the end of the section I’m really pleased with. Everything else past this is rather sloppy and rigid. I’ve been sending it to different betas but I never get anything back from them, and its ticking me off. I miss my old editors, but they’re busy at the moment.

Anyway, sorry for the enormous lack of information here, I’m sure some of you can guess what’s going to happen, but I have about 20 more pages of this flashback to finish modifying and adjusting before we get back on track, and trust me when I say, when we do get back on track it’s gonna be a hell of a ride.

At the rate I’m going I’ll place the end at about five more chapters, plus epilogue. SO let’s say next summer, unless I find this sudden urge to write nonstop for weeks on end. (Which sometimes happens)

In the First Episode, when Sam and Tucker brought Danny up to his room unconscious, we see a volleyball on the floor next to the trunk by the foot of his bed. I kind of took that and ran.
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