First DP chapter fic! Yay!

Don't expect super fast updates, maybe every two weeks or so.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOT DANNY PHANTOM. HE BELONGS TO BUTCH HARTMAN!

(The above was from the original author, this was adopted from WizardNinjaOfEpicAwsomenss so the first two chapters are by them.)

(Oh, I also don't own anything so… yeah)

Edward Lancer sighed as he pushed aside another red-marked sheet of paper. A huge stack of graded essays sat on his left, and an equally large pile on his right; ones that needed to be read, edited, and graded still. He reached for the next sheet, when he heard his doorbell ring. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, he rose from his seat and went to the door.

Hinges creaked as it swung open. Mr. Lancer's eyes widened in shock as he realized who was standing before him.

His thin, pale arms trembled as they clutched the doorframe for support, his raven hair overgrown even past its usual shagginess. The plain white pants and t-shirt hung loosely from his small form, torn and stained in numerous places. His face was sallow, and his eyes looked sunken and dead, the light in them gone.

"Daniel Fenton?"

The lifeless orbs found the middle-aged man's face at the sound of his name. Well, one did; the other eye (the man noted in surprise) stared straight ahead, unseeing and mutedly glowing an eerie green.

The teen's chest rose and fell rapidly as his mouth tried to form words.

"Please... Help... I... N-need... Help..." he struggled out. He looked like he was about to pass out, his whole body shaking with the effort to stay upright. Lancer wrapped his arm under the boy's shoulders and lead him to the couch. The boy's eyes slid shut almost instantly.

When he thought the teen was fully unconscious, his former teacher took in the appearance of the boy who had been missing for nearly a year. His frail frame looked beaten, broken. His arms had bruises around the elbows and wrists. The thing most frightening to the man was the dark bloodstain that covered the front of the thin material of his shirt.

The man rushed to the hall closet and retrieved the first aid kit from its shelf. Taking out a bottle of antiseptic and a roll of gauze, Lancer immediately set to work cleaning the boy's torn flesh.

He started on the smaller injuries first; small, uniform lines of bumps and bruises that laced his upper and lower arm, numerous burn marks in a ring around his neck, a series of swollen cuts that ran around one side of his face. Edward paused when he reached these. The red lines looked strategically placed along his face; one mark went over his eye (the one that had appeared to be damaged earlier), ran over his cheekbone at a sharp angle, slid down his jaw line, and stopped at his chin.

'What happened to this boy?' the teacher wondered. 'It looks as if-'

He cut that thought off with a shake of the head. "Focus on the task at hand," he commanded himself.

He couldn't put off treating the chest wound any longer. Gently, the man turned the boy fully onto his back. He undid the row of buttons that went down the front of the shirt, and pushed the material to the side.

It was all he could do to keep from retching.

Three hideous gashes formed a "Y" on his chest. Dried blood and a strange green substance coated his torso. The flesh was red and swollen, and the torn tissue underneath was visible through the skin.

Lancer was appalled.

"Good gracious, Fenton... How did this happen?" he mumbled to himself, voicing his thoughts.

The man was surprised to hear a weak, humorless chuckle- he had been sure that the teen had passed out entirely. "I... pressed a... button..."

REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! ;D