A/N: OK, I'll admit, this is a few days late for this to be a real Christmas fic, and to tell you the truth it isn't really a happy fic either. But I thought it up on Christmas day and it's the thought that counts, right?

Rated for character death and some language.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

FOREVER

"Tucker?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to marry her."

Tucker had to admit, it was beautiful, in an eerie sort of way. The high domed ceiling of the hall was painted in bright colors, depicting flowers in all colors and sizes, black and purple garlands hung between the pillars in a festive, but not too obvious way and the hundreds of seats were lined up perfectly straight. To complete the scene, and to emphasize the occasion and remind the guests just why they were all there together, a huge Christmas tree was standing in the front, decorated with hundreds of tiny green candles.

Yes, it was beautiful. He shivered.

"Danny, are you alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"But... you know..."

"Yes, Tucker, I know. I can never forget."

Guests were starting to pour in. Tucker stood to the side, half hidden by a pillar, because even though the ghosts had a truce on Christmas day, Danny had been a little vague about whether or not that truce included humans present at the party. He watched, in growing anxiety, as ghost after ghost, sworn enemies next to insignificant little blurbs of ectoplasm entered the hall together, chatting amiably. Nobody tried to blast somebody, nobody tried to hunt anybody and nobody tried to psychoanalyze anybody into a depression. Tucker felt slightly sick as he watched Spectra move to the front of the room, clearly intending to be seen by her nemesis.

He stared at her for a while, and while he was doing that he completely missed the entrance of the only other human that was going to be present at the ceremony. He became aware of her presence only when she quietly stepped beside him and put her hand on his arm. He looked up.

"Hey, Jazz," he said.

She just nodded and swallowed. They looked at each other knowingly, each knowing what the other was thinking, and each unwilling to speak out loud the words they knew were the truth. Somehow, not speaking about it made it all seam unreal. Like it was some bad dream. Like they would wake up, sweating, and then smiling in relief because it had never happened.

"You're only eighteen, Danny, you can't just..."

"Don't say it, Tucker." Blue eyes flashed green for a moment. "Don't say I'm throwing my life away. Don't you ever say that."

The organ began to play Mendelssohn's Wedding March, completely out of tune. The ghosts didn't seem to mind, or maybe they liked it that way, because none of them protested or even winced at the screeching sound. Tucker craned his neck to see over the heads of the ghosts who were more or less floating on or above their seats. At the front of the isle of the improvised wedding hall, he saw a familiar white mop of hair above a black tuxedo with white cuffs and a white collar. Tucker couldn't see his shoes, but he was willing to bet those were white too. Fiercely glowing green eyes looked out over the crowd, and for a moment locked eyes with Tucker.

He nodded and smiled. Tucker smiled back.

Beside him, Jazz nudged his arm and bent forward to whisper in his ear. "This is the happiest I have seen him in the entire year."

Keeping his eyes on his best friend, who now looked at the entrance of the hall in anticipation, Tucker couldn't agree more. Danny looked happy.

"What about your parents? What about Jazz, and me? Hell, what about her parents?"

"What about them?"

"It's impossible. You're a half-ghost."

"Choices, Tucker, choices."

The door opened, and she strode in. Tucker felt Jazz' fingers dig into his arm, and he placed his hand on hers in an attempt at comfort. He wasn't sure just who was comforting who though.

Purple gown, tight waist. Heavy black eyeliner in a unnaturally pale face, hair hanging down longer than Tucker remembered. She floated down the isle, feet hardly touching the ground. She was alone, no parent to give her away in a tradition she despised anyway. After all, she was giving herself away, she didn't need anybody's permission for anything anymore. Tucker smiled in admiration. Even now, she held her head high, looking around defiantly at the attending ghosts, daring them to deny her the right to be there.

Tucker stepped back and Jazz moved with him. She passed them by without seeing them, but Tucker doubted she would have seen them even if they had been standing right in front of her. Her shining eyes were fixed on the person standing, floating, at the front. The ghosts had all gone quiet now, and when she was about half way down the isle, the ghost who had been murdering Mendelssohn's Wedding March earlier on the organ seemed to catch on to the fact that the bride had arrived, because he started the tune again with gusto. Tucker put his hands on his ears.

"You're invited, of course, Tucker. Can't do this without my best friend, now, can I."

"Danny, please reconsider."

"No. I've made up my mind. I can't live without her."

"You're leaving, then."

Silence. Blue eyes, pleading. The pain in them almost overwhelming.

"Alright, Danny. I'll be there."

Later, Tucker couldn't remember a thing that was said. The ceremony was led by some ghost in a long robe that showed distinct fraying at the edges and a rather obvious hole right where his chest would have been, but neither Danny nor Sam seemed to notice. She was looking at Danny the entire time, the adoration on her face so out of character that Tucker felt his stomach clench. Did Danny really know what he was getting himself into? Did he really willingly choose this? He looked at his friend, at the smile on his face, that smile that had been absent for almost a year.

Had there really been no other choice?

Words floated through the hall, words with meaning, words stating the marriage taking place, but they were just echos in his mind. He kept going back to the happenings of the past year, kept going over conversations he had had with his best friend, kept trying to figure out where he had gone wrong, what he could have done or said to keep Danny from the path he had taken. All the ups and downs – many, many downs – and heartbreak, the helpless rage, the manic trips into the ghost zone...

Should he just have spoken up to his parents? Warned them? Would they have listened to their son, would they have tried to help him instead of – as Danny insisted they'd to – try to 'cure' him from his ghost powers? Had his decision to stay quiet condemned his friend?

As the ghosts were scrambling, leaving the hall more or less in an orderly manner to go out and party, Tucker turned to the redhead standing next to him.

"Did we really do the right thing?" he asked.

Jazz stayed quiet for a moment. "I don't know," she said finally, watching her brother and his wife leave the hall through a side door. "He was very unhappy, Tucker. You have no idea... He did talk to me, you know. Sometimes. When he was really down. I was... afraid."

More than him, Jazz had been in the middle of things. She had had to watch her brother struggle, had tried to keep him together, had tried to keep their family together. Tucker couldn't even begin to imagine the strain it had put on her, the constant fear that her brother would one day just give up, would do something... 'stupid'. And now... Tucker wasn't sure this didn't qualify as stupid as well. Pulling his thick coat tightly around him, he stepped away from the pillar he had been more or less hiding behind. Jazz followed him, and they traversed the hall silently. The black and purple garlands were already fading, now that they were no longer needed. Another example of Danny's vast power. He had willed them into existence and now that he released his hold on them, they reverted simply back to the ectoplasm they were made off.

"Yeah," he said, "Me too. I never thought... You think you know somebody, but when something like this happens... He just lost it."

"No one must ever know."

"I know. What about Jazz?"

"She knows. Only her and you."

Tucker hesitated a moment before entering the line that had formed to congratulate the newly weds. He did get some odd looks from ghosts close to him, but since ghost looks are odd by definition, he didn't let it bother him. Not too much, anyway. Again, Jazz followed him, staying close by his side.

The festivities took place in some sort of garden, and if the sky hadn't been rather prominently green, it would have looked almost real. The lawn was perfectly mowed, the flower beds perfectly weeded, the abundance of purple flowers looking as if they had grown there with a ruler next to them to keep them absolutely straight. Never mind that there was nothing beyond the fence surrounding the place. Tables with several dishes and hors d'oeuvres provided the guests with the necessary nourishment – although Tucker for the life of him couldn't figure out why a ghost would want to eat – and at the end of the long table something that looked suspiciously like a bowl of punch stood ready to be served.

Tucker shuddered as he spotted the Lunch Lady, sniffing some snacks and wrinkling her nose at them. No meat, of course.

The line moved slowly, and more than once Tucker had to resist the urge to simply waltz through the ghosts in front of him and grab his friend to tear him away from all the weirdness. He managed to restrain himself though, mostly as he still was unsure about his position in the whole Christmas truce thing and he didn't really want to invoke a war. Especially since he was unsure about which side Danny would choose now.

"Why Christmas?"

Laughter. "Come on, Tucker. It's the only time of the year ghosts are at peace. How else am I going to throw a party there?"

Multi-colored lights hanging on poles around the edge of the field. Music from a small band, out of tune but Tucker had become used to that now. It didn't seem to bother Danny the slightest, but then again, judging from the grin on his face and the way he looked at this bride almost the entire time, nothing could probably bother the half ghost at the moment. Tucker glanced at his watch, and then at Jazz, who was in a serious conversation with Skulker.

Tucker smiled, feeling almost sorry for the ghost. Then he made his way over to this friend again.

"Hey, Danny," he said.

Danny looked up, raised his eyebrows and put down his glass. Tucker briefly glanced at its contents, but couldn't really make anything from the green glowing liquid in it.

"No," Danny said, following his gaze, "I have no idea what it is either. Tastes alright, though."

Tucker shrugged. "I bet. But I've come to say goodbye."

The words hung in the air between them, and Tucker realized that this was really it. Suddenly, it all had become real. Everything has to come to an end sometimes. Even friendships. Even family. Behind him, Tucker felt Jazz draw near, her presence easily detected by the body heat she was radiating in this unearthly cold environment.

Danny seemed to realize it too, because for a moment, the happy smile fell from his face. Then it was back. "Don't be sad, Tucker. You'll be alright. Maybe someday you'll find the girl of your dreams too, and you'll get married and you'll know why I had to do this."

Tucker just shook his head. Danny turned to Jazz. "Bye, sis. Thanks for... you know."

Jazz just nodded. Neither made to hug the ghost standing in front of them, both knowing that their friend would fade away in time, that only the ghost would remain. Silence hung between them as they looked at each other. Then Jazz sighed.

"Come on, Tucker, let's go."

"I've thought about it, you know."

"About what?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Ending it."

The real world seemed cold and inhospitable, but still Tucker felt warm. The chill of the Ghost Zone isn't really a physical coldness – although really warm clothing is certainly required – it is more a coldness of the soul. The zone is dead. The real world, cold as it may be in December, is alive.

Even in a cemetery.

Tucker let his fingers slide on the tombstones in passing, glancing briefly at the names on them, automatically registering the dates, calculating their age when they died. Some old. Some not so old. Some very young, children. Some of the stones were old and weathered, the engravings hardly legible, some were new and shining, with fresh flowers on the graves. Loved ones, being mourned.

Tucker grimaced and tucked his hands deep into his pockets, digging deeper into his coat. The path meandered up the hill and he followed it slowly, listening to the sound of his shoes on the cobble stones. The graves were further apart here, larger, more ornamental. Tombs, old and new, containing multiple members of a family laid to rest there. Monuments to the rich people of Amity Park.

"High or low, just as dead," Tucker muttered.

He turned a corner. There it was.

Enormous. Gray stone, perfectly kept, flowers in vases hanging next to the entrance. No ornaments, just a blocky cold structure. The family name engraved above the door. Only one occupant, if you can speak of occupants of a tomb. Still. Tucker sighed and sat down on the stone bench.

"Hey," he said.

Silence. The whole cemetery was eerily quiet, and even the muted sound of the occasional traffic down the road didn't manage to drive away the impression of absolute silence. Like the collective town was holding its breath while Tucker communicated with the dead. He grinned at the image.

"Don't know why I'm here, really," he said, "It's not like you're here or anything..."

He looked at the flowers. They looked fresh. Probably been deposited there that very morning.

Christmas morning.

He sighed and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. Then he glanced around. It was getting dark already, twilight creeping into the cemetery to reclaim it from the living. A lesser person would have gotten up and left, increasing his pace as the darkness settled over the slope containing the dead, but Tucker leaned back and watched as the last of the light faded away and the lanterns lit up, lighting the path in a cold white glow.

This would have been it. This would have been the time Danny would come round and hang around the graves, sitting gloomily on top of the tomb, staring into the distance without seeing anything. Both Tucker and Jazz had tried to talk him out of it, had tried to urge him to try and live, but most of the time he had simply ignored them.

Now Tucker saw the attraction of the place. The peacefulness. The quiet. The dark shapes of the leafless trees, looming over him. The soft dripping sound of melting snow from a branch. The cold. He got up.

"Time to go," he said, but his feet didn't move. He just stood there, staring at the dark structure. A sense of finality came over him. There was nothing left to say, the chapter was closed, finished, a new life was waiting for him and it would be a fulfilling life. A colder life, less interesting, less excitement. No more deep friendships, no more complete and utter understanding of each other, no more knowing what the other was going to say or do before they themselves knew it. That was gone, dead and buried.

Time to move on. He turned around, took a step and glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm not coming back," he said.

"You know it's not really her, do you?"

"Yes, of course I know. She's but a remnant, a shadow, a... a projection. But it's all I'll ever have now. It's enough. It has to be."

"Danny... you can't do this to yourself. You have to let go. It's been ten months."

"Would you stop saying that? I don't care if it's ten months or ten days or ten years. Fact remains that she is dead and I'm alive... sort of. How unfair is that?"

"Very. But life's unfair."

"If that is so than I don't want it."

"Don't say that."

"I'll say whatever the hell I want to say. Quit trying to make me feel better, Tucker. I don't want to feel better. I just wish... I never told her, Tucker. I just want to tell her."

"You won't do anything... stupid, right?"

Laughter without mirth. "Yeah. Thought about it. But you know what? The irony of the thing?"

"What?"

"If I die... will I become a full ghost? Or will I just die and be... gone. That's the real question here. So you see, I can't. I have to keep going. I have to keep this half-life in order to be with her."

"You should let her go."

"Yes. That's what you want. It's not what I want."

Blue eyes changing to green, a bright flash, a transformation.

"I'll be with her forever."