For DannyPhantomSG-1's birthday! *insert party here*

She loves Danny angst, so I tried my best. The style is somewhat influenced by Tay's Something Special, but is nowhere near as good. :P Oh well. I tried, Liv! Hope you like it. :3

After

Danny looked up, raising his aching head ever so slowly. After his eyes dilated wildly to finally focus on the scene before him, it still took a long while to understand what he saw. It was just so hard to see things in the first place. Everything looked a little... dim and far away.

He was on the ground in the alley. That much was easy to tell. He could feel it all too well, the bits of broken asphalt digging into the open wounds on his back and the unforgiving ground beneath him making every limb more sore than it already was from his fight.

His hazy green eyes were not able to express the amount of surprise permeating through his buzzing head. The only thing he was aware of was that he was supposed to be dead. After Skulker pulled out that tranquilizing dart, he hadn't stood a chance against the hunter's ever-growing arsenal of weapons designed for nothing less than taking him down and out.

Everything hurt so much that he almost wished he was dead. Or at least unconscious. Then he wouldn't feel the pain throughout his body every time he moved or breathed.

Even without opening his eyes or turning his head to look, he knew that he was a mess. Countless sharp cuts slashed raggedly across his torso and opened up his arms to bleed freely. Sticky green slime covered him; his white hair and his gloves must have looked neon by this point. His black suit and even the ground beneath him sported the sickly hue. There probably wasn't an inch of him free of the stuff.

He couldn't move an arm to wipe away the ectoplasm that dribbled slow and cold down his face. He couldn't even roll himself over to try to get a decent breath of air. He couldn't move at all. The only thing he could do was to simply watch and try to understand what was happening.

He was supposed to be dead. But he wasn't, and he wasn't sure why.

His thought process was slow, so very slow. It took a long time for anything to register in his mind. But after a minute, he finally realized that Skulker, who had been standing above him with a dark grin on his face as he raised a long sharp and glowing knife, was no longer there.

Through the throbbing of the blood in his ears, he could vaguely hear the sounds of battle.

Someone else was fighting Skulker. Someone had come for him. They would save him from becoming a pelt on the hunter's wall.

Ectoplasm continued to ooze out of every wound on his body and he realized with a vague sense of worry that if the mysterious person didn't hurry up, he might pass the stage of caring. He was feeling weaker with every passing moment and he was finding it hard to keep himself alert enough to not slip into unconsciousness, that state of peace which seemed more appealing every second.

If his head was so fogged up that he couldn't tell what was happening around him, Danny didn't understand why he had to be perfectly aware of every single scratch and wound on him.

He hurt. All of him hurt.

From the dull throbbing in his legs that didn't really matter but added to the overall effect of his utter tiredness, to the fierce fire in his arms every time to attempted to break out of the effects of Skulker's dart to tend to himself, to the unbearable scratching in his throat every time he took a desperate breath of air.

His head was the worst. It must have been dashed against the brick wall a couple too many times. A sharp stab flew through his brain with every heartbeat and through the throbbing he could barely make out the buzzing in his ears or the way his brain seemed to swim back and forth in his skull.

Now... he finally noticed through the depths of his head that something around him had changed. The harsh clanging and blasting sounds were gone. The fight... was over?

But who had won? If it was Skulker, he was about to become a wall ornament, despite the short reprieve he had been given.

On the other hand, if Skulker had been defeated, Danny wasn't sure what to expect. Who had been fighting? He hadn't been able to tell. Was it another one of his enemies who would take pleasure in finishing him off now that Skulker had made such a wonderful start? They wouldn't have to do much, Danny thought grimly. Or... was it possible that his savior was actually that… someone who would get him away from this mess?

He wondered if he was even able to be saved at this point. Everything just hurt so much. He was trying, he was trying with all of his might, but he wasn't sure that he really wanted to fight much more. It was all too much trouble...

A hazy figure in blue stepped into his line of sight. He wasn't able to recognize it for a friend or an enemy, but at least he knew it wasn't the metal hunter.

"Skulker...?" he rasped.

The figure shifted slightly, but was still so hazy, he couldn't tell what it had done or how it had moved. It may have been pointing at something, but he couldn't turn his head to see and it might have just been his imagination.

Danny managed to lift a single finger off the ground and weakly pointed over to his side. He looked at his small silver cylinder, which had rolled to the wall soon after the fight had begun.

"The thermos... you can... use it."

He spoke slowly, trying to make every word clear and distinct so that the figure in blue would understand what he meant. He didn't think he had the energy to repeat himself. It took a long time for his brain to think of the words and his mouth to form them the first time. So long. Why was this so hard?

The blue-clad figure moved toward the thermos and after picking it up, used it, sending out a bright light to a place out of Danny's line of vision. Soon Skulker had been swept up off the street and was neatly contained in the small invention.

Danny heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," he whispered to the mysterious fighter.

Even though it made his chest hurt like crazy, it was good for him to be able to sigh and say it. It took a load off his mind. Skulker had been taken care of. Amity was safe for the moment. He almost didn't care what happened to him now.

Almost.

But when he heard the answering voice, his heart rate began to race and his brain frantically kicked into gear.

"What... happened to you?" the figure asked.

He knew who it was. He knew who had just beaten Skulker and was standing there with a thermos in their hand, undoubtedly pointed at him. There was no mistaking that voice. He heard it every day.

Hearing the voice threw the face and body into focus. He knew exactly what the figure looked like and the wave of recognition forced its way past the fogginess in his head to put the details in place.

The skin-tight teal-blue Hazmat suit, the red goggles, the slew of ghost-fighting weapons strapped around her waist.

Mom.

He had never been so relieved.

He closed his eyes as a wave of calm rushed through him. It would be okay. His Mom was here and she would take care of him. She would make everything right. She would pick him up in her arms and make the pain go away, just like she always used to do when he was growing up and he scraped his knee or had a bad dream.

But then his brain caught up to what he was thinking. That wasn't how it was going to happen. He wasn't Danny. He wasn't her little boy. He was Phantom. The ghost. Her enemy.

His eyes flew open again, this time wide with apprehension.

"M—Maddie?" He managed to slur out, the mispronunciation partly fatigue, partly fear, and partly the wish to call her what he always did. At the moment, he didn't think it was at all cool to call her by her first name. He wanted to be her son. He wanted her to come and comfort him. He didn't want to be the distant enemy, now so weakened that she would easily be able to kill or capture him. It wouldn't surprise him if he ended up in the lab in a few minutes, and he didn't have the energy to explain why he shouldn't be there...

Maddie nodded. "Yeah, it's me, ghost." She paused to take a good look at his condition. "Now what happened to you?"

Her tone of voice was odd. Danny had never heard her speak like that before to either one of his forms. She was wary, demanding, confused... concerned? It was almost certain that she had never seen him in such bad shape as he was currently, but did that mean that she could actually be concerned about the ghost she had dedicated her life to eradicating?

"It was Skulker..." he answered. "Spectral paralysis darts."

It took a moment for the information to sink into the ghost hunter's head.

"Paralyzing darts? You mean..." she tilted her head and looked at him in disbelief. "You can't move?"

Danny tried to shake his head, but soon realized the futility of the attempt. Whatever chemical Skulker had put into him was still in effect. He couldn't move. And it was probably a good thing that he wasn't throwing his head from side to side. It would have made the massive headache lodged right there in his temples even worse. It wouldn't have been good to lose the clarity he had just gained.

But he realized that no movement was not an answer. He still had to tell her something before she grew impatient and sucked him into the thermos to join Skulker.

"Yeah, I can't really move."

He tried to laugh a little to make light of the situation. Even if the laughter was pretty bitter, it was certainly better than experiencing the outright fear that might otherwise have taken over his brain. He had just told the person who had spent the last three years hunting him that he was vulnerable and unable to escape her should she chose to make a move now.

But the laughter wasn't to last long. He had only chuckled once or twice when the spasms that erupted across his entire body forced him to stop. His extremities twitched as they desperately wanted to move into the fetal position and he began to cough. The harsh sounds echoed through the narrow space as the coughs wracked his immobile body. Every tiny movement made his body erupt in pain until he didn't think that he could take it anymore.

He was so absorbed by trying to get his breathing and the pain under control that he did not notice what Maddie had done. He didn't hear the clink of the thermos as she dropped it without a second thought and was barely aware of her falling to the ground beside him.

It was only when his coughing fit had lapsed into long shuddering breaths that he realized she had arms placed comfortingly around his shoulders. There wasn't a weapon in sight.

He barely had the energy after the coughing fit to look confused, let alone ask what she was doing, but she understood the look and answered it.

"This isn't the way I'm taking you in, ghost boy." She said quietly.

Oh. Not quite the answer he was expecting. But it would do for now. At least it meant that she wasn't about to dissect him or blast him and that was really all that mattered to him at the moment. That stuff could wait until he was better and the two of them had a fair fight...

He cracked a small grin and seemed about to make some stupidly sarcastic remark when his face contorted in pain and he gasped, his body trying to scrunch up and give him relief, but unable to because of Skulker's poison darts.

Without thinking about it, Maddie slipped one arm around Phantom's back to bring him up to rest against her side. Her hand slid through slick ectoplasm. She grimaced but told herself that he had the worst of it. It may be all over her hands, but it should have been inside him. She could hardly believe how much of it he had lost. She was surprised he was still able to function.

He may have been her part time enemy, but since he was in no condition to do anything to her, she was able to treat him as her part-time son.

Too bad she doesn't know that I am, Danny thought as he nestled into her side as best he could.

"Thanks," he whispered, finally allowing his eyes to slide closed.

Maddie looked down at him in alarm. He must be getting delirious for him to voluntarily draw comfort from her when she had been hunting him since the first day she saw his face.

"Gho—" she broke off, suddenly not feeling right about saying that. "Phantom..." She said slowly. It was the first time she had called him by his name.

He didn't reply.

"What's wrong? It's not just the darts. What else is happening to you?"

The small figure leaning against her was so still that for a moment she thought he wouldn't respond. Maybe... ghosts could fall into some stage of unconsciousness?

But eventually, he answered her in a small voice that made him seem much younger and more vulnerable than she had ever imagined he could be.

"I think... I'm dying."

Maddie was speechless.

The ghost chuckled once, very softly so he didn't disrupt his short moment of rest by calling up another round of mind-numbing pain. "You know, I've always wondered... what it would be like... to die..."

Maddie blinked a couple times.

His voice had faded in between each batch of shuddering breaths to the point where Maddie could barely hear what he had said. But he had made a concerted effort to make himself heard and she understood enough to know what he meant. The implications of what he had said, however, sent her mind reeling.

"But... but you have died. You're a ghost." Maddie said, not sure if his mind was gone or he had some warped sense of humor that still managed to make itself known when he was this beat up.

Danny sighed. "Not really..." He said, his voice sounding like it was only half there. This conversation would take much more energy than he had. He was just so tired. He wanted to fall asleep in his mother's arms and not have to worry about the massive amounts of ectoplasm he had already lost and was continuing to lose.

But Maddie couldn't let a comment like that slide by.

"Not really? What... what do you mean by that?" She paused. "If you aren't a ghost... then what are you?"

The boy was unresponsive.

She bit her lip for a moment, then shook the figure. She knew it would hurt him, but she just had to know what he meant.

He groaned as the pain rippled through his body. It was killing him. Why would she do something like that if she could see how cut up he was? Then he remembered vaguely what he had said. Well, he should have known better than to think her scientific mind would let that one go.

When the pain subsided to a dull throbbing everywhere, he wearily said, "ask Vlad."

She leaned forward and cocked her head to the side, as if thinking she had heard wrong.

"Vlad?" she asked, completely surprised. There was only one Vlad she knew; it wasn't like there were too many of them around. But what connection did he have to Phantom and why would he have the answers? "Vlad Masters?" She asked to confirm they were both thinking of the same man.

"Masters... Plasmius..." Danny sighed, too drained to explain that they were one and the same.

When she heard both names strung together, Maddie wasn't sure that he was in fact referring to anyone at all, but he continued on, seeming quite sure of himself and what he was saying.

"He can explain... all the science stuff behind it." He smiled weakly. "I was never good at that." He paused to take a few labored breaths. "But he can... tell you."

Another wave of pain surged through him and he bit back a cry. It raced through his veins until his whole body was on fire. Tears began to build in his eyes and his hands fisted even though it did nothing to ease the agony.

Maddie looked on, helpless to do anything except rub his back comfortingly and whisper to him like she might to Danny or Jazz.

After that round of pain was over, Phantom looked up at her with wide eyes.

The bright green glow they normally sported had slowly dimmed and the color was even now starting to fade before her eyes, going from a solid green to drab olive. Soon, they had become an eerie shade of soulless grey.

When the last vestige of color had gone, Phantom's gaze went wide and he looked wildly from side to side, his eyes not focused on anything. He desperately tried to control his breathing, but it became more shallow and frantic with each passing second.

"Wha—" he breathed. "Where... where are you?"

She realized that his vision had darkened completely. He couldn't see her.

"I'm right here." She said, tears threatening to come to her eyes even though she couldn't explain to herself why she should care so much.

She reached down and grabbed onto one of his hands. He latched on with a grip so strong she would have thought his life depended on it. His breathing was still erratic, but he seemed to have calmed down a bit knowing that she was there.

"Mom?" He asked softly. He sounded so much like a little boy who was lost.

Maddie's heart ached with the desperate plea, but she was not the one to give him the comfort he sought.

"Don't leave," he suddenly begged.

She swallowed heavily. That request, however, was one she could answer. "I won't."

He nodded vaguely, his unseeing eyes wandering, unable to meet hers. Tears began to well up in them and spill over, leaving trails of gleaming pearls running down his cheeks.

"I... I'm sorry." His voice was much softer now, much weaker than it had been before. But the desperation to say the words made them distinct.

Maddie wondered what he could mean, what long past acts or deeds could make him want to confess to her now.

"For what?" She asked softly, with no hint of the demanding condemnation he was so afraid would be there.

"For..." more tears leaked out of his eyes and his voice hitched with emotion and pain. "For messing up so much... for not... not telling you..."

She was about to ask what he hadn't told 'her' when his body convulsed a little and she could feel the shivers running down his spine.

He gasped and desperately tried to get the air, his life source, into the lungs that were reaching their end. He needed them to continue working. Just for a few more minutes.

Maybe Maddie would be able to take him home and treat his wounds once he was blissfully unaware of what happened around him, but somehow he knew that if he fell unconscious now, he would die. He would simply stop breathing. It was too much of a struggle to make his chest expand each time for him to continue when he did not consciously fight for it every moment.

It was so hard to breathe. So hard to think. So hard to focus on anything. He couldn't keep this up. But he had to. There were still things he needed to do, needed to say.

He couldn't just let things end like this. But he knew that it was a losing battle. Danny knew that he was dying and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop it. The process was too far gone by now. Skulker had done too much damage and he had lost too much ectoplasm.

But he needed to say this at least. His mouth worked silently as he tried to get the words out. Someone needed to hear them, to be able to pass them on. But getting the words out seemed like an impossible task. The world seemed so far away now. He couldn't see anything and could just barely feel Maddie's hand. It seemed miles away, or like someone else was holding onto it and he was far off, watching and barely aware of the world.

Drifting...

drifting...

All that he was aware of was the pain, the awful, burning, searing, indescribable, and inescapable pain. It pounded into him from every inch of his body. Nothing gave him solace. There wasn't even anything to look at to distract him from the torture he felt. He couldn't get away from it now, but it closed in on him, suffocating him, draining him of life.

With a cry of desperation, he managed to rally himself so that he could say a few more words.

"Tell..." he began so softly that Maddie could hardly understand what he had said.

"Yes?" She encouraged him with a squeeze of her hand, not knowing that he couldn't feel it now.

"Tell Sam... I loved her..."

Maddie was silent, at a loss for words at what the boy had said. The few words had been spoken with such desperation, with such emotion and force that they pulled at her heart-strings.

She couldn't dwell on those feelings for long, however, because Phantom's eyelids drooped closed and his body began to relax into hers, letting gravity completely take over.

The cool ectoplasm draining out of his body and over hers began to run a little more freely and warmly, as if his ghostly core had decided it was time to stop cooling it down since it wasn't going to stay in his body anyway.

She could feel that he was slipping away.

"Phantom?"

She shook him, but even that drew no response from the boy. She did it again, harder this time, but she knew that she was losing him. There was nothing she could do. She stared at the body in her arms as an overwhelming wave of horror began to rise up in the pit of her stomach and fill her every nerve.

A moment later, his eyes shot wide open as a final convulsion shook his slight frame. With a slight gasp, but no noise, the final shocks slowly faded away to nothing.

The ectoplasm-streaked white head slumped to the side, his grey eyes unseeing and his mouth parted, a small trickle of blood pouring out the side.

"Phantom?" Maddie cried out as she frantically shook him. "Phantom!"

His hands slowly slid out of hers and fell limply to the ground.

O.o This is what happens when I try my hand at a prolonged tragedy. I'm not sure I've ever written anything that intensely angsty and traumatic... was it okay? Or was it too much? Would love to hear what you think!

On another note, I posted something longer than a drabble. Yay! It feels good to write something long again, although in order to get this up in time, I had to forgo as much polishing as I would like. So sorry for anything not up to par... :/