AN: So in most fanfics, Danny and Sam have a ghost powered child. And they have the wisdom and foresight to tell their kid about Danny being Danny Phantom. But let's say PP didn't happen, they got together and their kid had no powers. Let's say they decide to keep their kid out of the line of fire and don't tell her about Danny's powers.

Somehow, that train of thought led to this. I don't even know why my brain does what it does anymore, but feedback is always appreciated. Thank you all for reading this.

When she finds out it's not going to be enough.

When she finds out the real reason her father is never there, it'll be far too late to soothe over the wounds the absence has caused. She has grown up more alone than even her mother knows, learned to let herself into an empty house without thinking anything of it. It's more of a surprise when her parents are home. Actually, she has few memories of coming home to both of them there. More often her mother's work at the law firm would trickle home and the dark haired woman would be sitting at the kitchen table with casework spread out in front of her, the ponytail she'd worn in her youth exchanged for a bun, purple carnation eyes laser like in their focus.

Whether or not her mother is home, she fixes dinner by herself and takes it to her room. It's a little house, but the lack of people makes it seem a mansion, a castle, a world apart from the rest of the human race. When she is older, maybe around seven or eight, she falls into step with the boys on the block, and they begin to play outside at any hour they're free or bored. This is the part of existence she likes, the parts that make her feel alive. At home she's Zylpha, the girl with nothing to do and no one to keep her company but the TV. At school she's Zylpha Fenton, the girl whose parents never show up for anything, the loser, the kind of smart kid who just isn't special. With her friends she's Zee, and Zee is just a friend, a happy, athletic child who is up for everything.

They go to the park and climb on things they aren't supposed to, play games of their own design, play basketball and eventually get on the school team. Her friend Lyric has his mom pick her up and take her to the girls' basketball practices when Zee's own mother can't do it, which is depressingly common. It's okay, though, because Lyric is always there to talk to her and Lyric's mom is great. She brings juice and Gatorade to all the games, she helps referee some of the games, and she lets Zee call her Star instead of Ms. Roharis. She's blonde and pretty and motherhood is a role she's good at, even if Mrs. Fenton still frowns at her and doesn't like her because of high school. Zee thinks that's unfair, but then again, she might be biased, since her mom's only been to three of her games in the last year.

Her father is simply not a part of her life. He's like a roommate. Once, Andrew Baxter asked her what her dad's job was. Zee had shrugged. Her dad lost and obtained and lost jobs at a rate she couldn't keep up with. It didn't matter; Andrew had nodded and they'd gone walking down to the playground like the answer didn't mean a thing. His dad owned the gas station near the playground, so it was a favorite hang out. Even though her dad came in at all hours, sometimes waking her up in the dead of night when he returned or left, she preferred to talk to Mr. Baxter if she couldn't sleep. She can walk to the gas station from home and talk to him. He keeps secrets well, even if he sends her back home because it's 'late'. It can't be that late, she thinks, since the city only sleeps when the clock reads two or three; up until then, Amity's economic boom has ensured a busy little city that she feels too alone in to be properly afraid.

Mostly she encounters her father on the couch or in the kitchen. His presence is felt when the fridge is empty, when the last of the ramen is gone, when she hears him snoring on the couch with fresh bruises and cuts he'll never explain. He just says, when they do talk, he'll tell her when she's older. He's been saying that since she can remember. Her mother tells her it's not up for discussion or debate, so she learns not to talk about much at home. Then, as ten bleeds into eleven, she learns not to be home. It's easier to say she doesn't care if she's not there, if she's out doing something or even doing nothing, so long as nothing involves people. There is a hunger in Zee for people, for friends, for affection and company. It guides her life choices, and if ever she doubts them, she just needs to look at the couch to be reminded there's more out there for her than there is here.

She stays out relatively late. She has her friends – Lyric, Andrew, JT, Santiago. They do everything together, and someone's always available. She plays basketball with them, she takes long, pointless walks with JT and Lyric, she and Santiago ride the bus across town and sneak into the amusement park time and time again, she and Andrew go to the little grocery store by the river and shoplift little things, sneaking across the bridge with self satisfied smiles. There's always something, or she makes something out of nothing, organizes expeditions to find out where that super long bike path goes, convinces them to find a way to sneak into the Civic Center to watch high school basketball games, makes a contest out of who can steal the biggest thing from the grocery store and not get caught. Zee develops a snarky, sarcastic, biting way of speaking that brings out the worst in people. The worst, you see, is better than nothing at all.

Alone, letting herself in at eight, nine, ten at night, anger floods her. She has flashes of it when she's at the park, when she's at a game, when Lyric's mother or Andrew's father show up. Why doesn't she have that? Why don't her parents hold her like that? Why don't they come to her games? Does her dad even know she's on the team? Do these people care? She's kept her grades up, except for her struggles with math, she isn't a bully, she gets groceries when they're both too busy. What does it take to matter? Why is it that JT's brother has tutored her in math more than her own parents ever have? Christmas days spent at her grandparent's house drive home an ache for her own parents that she can't explain, as her parents talk to her grandparents and she fades into the background. It's like she's not a Fenton. She's not anyone to them.

It hurts so much she has to be angry so she doesn't just start crying and never stop.

When she finds out one day there's a reason, the reason won't matter, won't begin to even register, because she doesn't even like these people. She doesn't need them. She tells herself this regularly. Zee is twelve when she first begins dumpster diving with her friends, finding things to bring home that substitute themselves for the things her parents should be buying. This is how she finds her favorite hoodie, which is dress length on her unnaturally thin form and warmer than her old coat, which no longer fits. Twelve is when her mother makes partner at the law firm. There is no one to tell her the way she acts is odd or wrong, and plenty of people who think this is how life is supposed to be. Dumpster diving leads to a breathless moment being chased by some cop that they escape by clumsily hopping the fence and running until they're all too tired to take a single step forward. She, Santiago and Andrew collapse in a pile, breathless, and it's Zee who starts laughing at the absurdity that they've stolen things before but grabbing garbage is what nearly got them caught. JT fumes with jealousy when he hears what he's missed out on, but Lyric and Santiago are wary of run-ins with the police. Zee is riding the high of JT's approval and the adrenaline, the moment-before-the-fall crescendo of nearly being hauled away on God only knew what charges.

She likes what her hoodie symbolizes. To her it shows she's not a scared little girl, and maybe that's why when Parker Li lets her hang out with his group of friends she accepts. They're all middle schoolers and high schoolers; she's easily the youngest there, but they don't seem to care. When her normal group of friends heads to bed, she falls in with Parker, and together they take over a vacant lot with a faulty wood fence around it, listen to shoplifted music and talk. It's all talk, as twelve becomes thirteen and she enters the same school as them, but they get into bits of trouble as they get older, angrier and tighter as a group. She drags Andrew into things with her, and together they experience everything that life has to offer, from their first beers to clumsy making out (ew; Andrew's like a brother, squick, no no no, they will never do that again) to vandalizing the principal's car beyond salvation before running off into the night, one group, a pack, weaving in and out of orange and blue lit alleys with long dark shadows, emerging behind a night club. They spend some time laughing at Parker's terrible off-key recitation of the rap song they can hear blaring from within. Soon, Parker gets them to join in, in the most disjointed chorus possible.

Singing becomes part of their routine, turning up music with filthy lyrics, not even cognitively recognizing there might be something wrong with what they're singing. Parker's group of five, plus Zee and Andrew, make up a small but easily spotted cluster. It hits her the December of her seventh grade year that she has a reputation, that people know who she is. The knowledge is oddly welcomed, reassurance that someone cares, that at least she exists, that she doesn't need her parents to make her own way in life. When they get a few too many beers in them one day after school and decide to cut their hair, she gets a bowl cut just above her ears and shaves the rest off. Zee reassures them her mom will love it because it's 'alternative', and then she's sobbing and laughing and reaching for another bottle because her mom has time for anything alternative but not her own damn daughter. No one says anything about the tears, but Cade, the oldest in their motley crew, pulls her into a hug. She holds on so hard that she gets lost in it, and when she releases him she can barely recall what she was upset about in the first place.

They start to have problems with other clusters of kids. There's the uptown group that looks down on everyone, there's the group of thug wannabes called the Red Ravens from downtown, there's the Green Ghouls at school who hassle them for not being part of them, there's the preps and the holier-than-thou people and the cheerleaders and all kinds of groups. They come up with their own name, the Silver Snakes, and begin fighting back. At first it's just graffiti, their usual shoplifting and drinking, but when the Red Ravens jump Andrew one day they're all so on fire with anger, life, old wounds and shock that they take Cade's car and make a personal visit downtown. There, they locate the nearest jerk in red and have at him. Zee can't even feel guilty when she kicks the guy in the stomach, when she's sent away to be the look out. This is her family, and you don't mess with her family and hope to get away with it.

Afterwards, driving back home, they crank up some song she doesn't even like, and they call it a victory as they get back to their respective houses. Zee uses the front door brazenly, knowing no one will be there. She passes her father on the stairs, and he seems momentarily startled.

"Why are you home so late?" he asks, even though it's barely eleven.

"Only one of my friends has a car, Dad. We had to circle through a couple neighborhoods to drop everybody off. I live furthest from everybody but Andrew," she says, and it's so pathetic that he just blinks at this explanation like it's utterly reasonable. "And Cade didn't want me to walk home in the snow."

"He's right. You need to wear a better coat if you're going to be out like that in winter," he chides, and then he hustles down the stairs. "I gotta go. Lock the door, okay?"

Pft. As if anyone would go after the home of a Silver Snake. She does so anyway and makes herself some ramen, catches the late news, goes to bed and lays awake texting back and forth with Cade about how great tonight was. She sleeps like a baby, waking up only when the sound of someone banging on her door causes her to get up. It's Parker, and he's all shaken up by last night. They walk together to the abandoned lot they call home, just the two of them, where he pulls out some pills and some Gatorade and asks her to join in. The familiar rush of doing something amazing comes over her and overrides her better judgment. Everything after that is a blur, where she's jittery, energetic, can't stop moving or talking and needs to drink more and more Gatorade because her throat is dry as a desert. Her vision is blurred and plays tricks on her. Things look like they're moving when they aren't. But it's a great distraction from her usual turmoil, and she asks what they took so she can do it again, maybe next time she's alone in her room at night with no one to go hang out with. Turns out it's a mixture of a specific sleeping pill and a specific kind of migraine medicine, and she writes it down on her arm in Sharpie so she'll remember.

That's good, because she wakes up at home the next morning with only faint, confusing memory of the last day. Thankfully she can go steal the supplies from the grocery store and get back home in under an hour, so she can collapse on her bed. She drifts in and out of consciousness, listening to some CD Cade gave her on a loop, and eventually the weekend blurs into the week proper. Monday finds her dressed and ready for school. Zee barely understands she's female – she owns no skirts, hasn't since she was very little, wears no make up, never played with dolls, and has a wardrobe mostly bought in the boy's section of the thrift store. She puts on flared jeans with holes in the knees, a gray T-shirt from Andrew's closet that has silver paint splattered on it, her old black Converse and her eternal companion of a hoodie. With her lack of regular eating and a steady diet of beer and ramen, she has no discernible figure, and she likes that. She likes having a thin body that drowns in clothes, likes seeing her ribs when she changes, and likes being mistaken for a boy.

Zylpha Fenton is a thing of the past, a little girl crying out for mommy and daddy. Zee Fenton is a badass, a unique entity, part of a family, one of the kids who wears silver and gets a wide berth from students, well on her way to a basketball scholarship some day, when she'll leave this town forever. She has a reputation and allies, she can curse with the best of them, she does what she wants when she wants. No one has any say over her, no one can stop her from anything; she is wild and invincible and angry, but she uses that anger to fuel her when she's tired. She makes the anger go away with pills and goes to parties where people mistake her for being older than she is.

When she's fourteen, she's out one day, wearing the same outfit she did after the first day she got high. She thinks of it as lucky, for some reason. Today's her birthday, which sucks because that means both her parents will be home and they'll have a cake and pretend to care when it's obvious they don't. Her mother will be on the phone with someone from the office the whole time. Her father hasn't had work in six months, but he's never home, so all the income is her mother's responsibility. Since her mom pays the bills, Zee can't say anything about the way the whole party is an empty façade, and instead she'll have to wait until night falls to go have some real fun with her real family. Lately they've been letting a sixth grader named Jay hang out with them. He's the new Zee, the new youngest wannabe that could really be something, and she's thinking of him when she's walking home after school.

She hears the gun go off, but oddly enough she doesn't feel the bullet until she finds herself on the ground. She tries to breathe in and chokes on blood, and that's when what happened really registers with her. A car with a bunch of red-clad Red Ravens zooms by, and she gurgles and gasps on the sidewalk, the world tilting and swaying even though she's standing still. The initial shock wears off and pain rolls in, waves that overpower her small body, leave her unable to think, barely able to breath, shaking, eyes unfocused. There is no world, no life, nothing in existence outside this overwhelming pain, this fire and knives mixture that dominates her.

When a white haired, black clad figure appears before her to pick her up, she loses the battle with herself to stay awake and slips into unsconsciousness, where the pain can't find her.

When she wakes up at the hospital, they're going to talk.

But it will not make things right.