-Sigh- I need help. I'm addicted. Addicted to oneshots. And addicted to writing really short sentences. Heheh.
Anyways, this is a little oneshot I wrote absolutely forever ago during a power outage. ;) heheh. I decided to do some editing and finally post it. It's only a oneshot for now- I might make it a full-fledged fic, depending on the response I get to this chapter. Anyways, it used to be a really fun light-hearted Fenton family bonding piece, but I decided to change it into something a little more angsty and emotional... ;D
Just to set you guys in place, this takes place during a blackout.
Enjoy and review! :D
"Danny! Danny, come here!" Jazz called from the kitchen.
I sighed as I replied, "Yeah, what?"
"I need you come to help me!" she said.
I gave a grunt of acknowledgement as I grudgingly rose from the couch.
I'd spent the last three hours over the phone with Tucker, who was convinced that I could get the television or the computer to work by using only the energy of his handheld PDA. 'Trust me, dude! I'll walk you through the process; as soon as I'm done, all your electronics will be working and it'll be like there's no a blackout at all!' He'd forced me to struggle through several wires and cables, reading all sorts of ridiculously long alphanumeric serial codes to him. As much I'd expected, nothing had come of it and I was still without cable and computer access. Now I was just trying to rest my aching neck from all the craning I'd done to be able read all those numbers.
Leave it to Jazz to interrupt my relaxation and make me work, I thought as I entered the kitchen.
"Oh good, you're here!" my sister sighed in relief. Jazz had supposedly been helping Dad clear out the fridge so the food wouldn't spoil. However, I noticed it wasn't so much Jazz who was helping Dad as it was Jazz who was doing all the work and Dad who was eating every piece of fudge and meatloaf casserole he could get his hands on.
"Danny m'boy!" he bellowed happily, clapping me on the back and causing me to almost choke on my own saliva, "I'm glad you're here! Now go and get me some napkins!" he smiled, wiping some fudge off his chin.
"Danny," Jazz whispered, beckoning for me to come closer to her, "I need you to go down and get the cooler so we can store all this stuff before it spoils, or worse, before Dad finishes it all…"
"Still waiting for those napkins Danny!" Dad called, stuffing down another fudge square. I quickly passed him a stack of napkins from the table and then hurried for the basement.
Man, sometimes I just wish I could have a normal family, I sighed, though I couldn't help but feel slightly amused.
As I reached the basement steps, I clicked the light switch, momentarily forgetting that the lights wouldn't come on because of the power failure. Just as I was about to turn make my hands glow with ectoplasmic energy for light, I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around with a jerk, instantly stopping the flow of ectoplasm that was rushing to my hands.
"Danny sweetie, have you seen the big flashlights that are usually in the kitchen drawers?" It was Mom.
"Uhh…no. No, I haven't seen them," I lied hastily. In truth, not only had I seen them, I had actually lost them. Last week, Sam, Tucker and I used them while we were patrolling the city during the night. Suddenly Technus came out of nowhere and started blasting ecto-rays all over the place. We fought him off, but we forgot the flashlights in the park.
"Oh, well that's strange," she said, scratching her head. "Anyways, if you're going down to get the cooler then take this with you," she continued, handing me a lipstick from the belt of her jumpsuit.
"Umm…thanks Mom," I started uncomfortably, trying to push the lipstick back into her hands, "but I don't think Glowing Green is really my color."
"No silly! It's not for that! It's a ghost weapon that doubles as a mini-flashlight. You'll need it if you want to see anything down there," she said as she shoved it back into my hands. "Plus it makes for a really handy ghost shredder," she winked before walking off to the kitchen.
Okaaay, I thought as I stuffed the mini weapon in my pocket. I'm definitely gonna have to be careful when using this thing...
I tried to carefully maneuver my way around my parents' new inventions that were lying carelessly on the ground. I almost tripped over one that was labeled Fenton Ghost Peeler.
Ouch, that one's going to hurt, I winced, staring at the large ecto-gun. I'll have to make sure to stay out of Mom and Dad's way when they're using this thing. Or at least out of Mom's.
I made my way over to the little room where we kept the storage, (the rest basement was generally used as my parents' lab).
I held out my hands and made them glow with ecto-plasmic energy so I could see in front of me. The light around my hands glowed throughout the room and I smirked proudly at my ability as I began to search for the bright yellow cooler that my sister had sent me down to get.
Where could it be…I thought, frustrated by the mess in front of me. If I don't find it in ten min-- WHOA!
A crashing thud resounded throughout the dark little room's walls as boxes tumbled over onto me, several of them opening on their way down. Turning intangible just in time, I phased out of the pile of fallen boxes, dusting the basement dirt off my suit. I muttered something in annoyance as I stared at the mess in front of me. Great. Now I was gonna have to clean this all up…
Just as I was about to venture further into the depths of the eerie little room, ever searching for the cooler, I noticed a large book had fallen out of one of the collapsed boxes. As I brought my hands closer to the book for light, I realized it was a photo album. I picked it up and dusted off the gray fluff that was on it, revealing a golden-greenish lettering that read, "Fenton Family Album."
Huh, I've never seen this before…
Curious, I opened the album and flipped through the first few pages. They were empty, with no pictures underneath the plastic cover that was wrapped around the thick cardboard pages. Finally, as I turned to the fourth or fifth page, I saw the first photo.
It was a picture of Jazz. She was young in this picture…no older than one or two years old. I smiled as I watched her finger a toy Einstein figurine in her hand. Mom was holding Jazz in her arms, gently caressing her.
I skipped the next few pictures which were also of Jazz, probably taken around the same time as the first. The next picture was Jazz sleeping, then Jazz smiling and sitting in the car seat. I noticed Jazz was a bit older in each photo. It was probably Mom trying to be organized by putting the photos in chronological order.
Where are all my pictures? I thought.
Then turning the page, I saw it. The photograph that changed my life.
I saw Jazz, no older than five years old, standing in front of a giant roller coaster with a pink cotton candy cone in one hand. Next to her was standing a small boy with brown hair. He couldn't have been any more than two or three years younger than her. He wore a yellow t-shirt and a brilliant smile. Jazz's free arm was slung over his shoulders, in a loose embrace.
Who is this kid? I thought, wondering why I didn't recognize him and why I didn't recognize the amusement park. Surely if Jazz was old enough to walk then I too would've been around at the time. So where was I?
Curiously, I averted my eyes to the small caption below the photograph, which I noticed was in Mom's handwriting.
April 1996. Our two gorgeous children, Jazz, (5) and Andrew, (3) at the State Fair Amusement Park.
Andrew? Who the heck is Andrew? I thought with a frown. If this was in 1996 then I would've been three years old…so where am I?
Suspiciously, I examined the text and picture more closely, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I didn't understand how this Andrew person was part of our family. Especially since the text implied that Mom and Dad only had two kids and I wasn't one of them.
He couldn't be my brother. That was impossible because I would have also been 3 years old in 1996. Maybe he was my twin? We didn't look much alike…maybe we were fraternal twins….
Then, as if only remembering that there was an entire album of pictures for viewing before me, I turned the page. There were more pictures of Andrew. Andrew's first bike ride, Andy's lost tooth, Andrew's first soccer tournament. All milestones. Some were from when he was younger (I figured Mom had given up in the chronological order thing). There wasn't even a hint of proof that I even existed.
Feeling confused and sunken in the stomach, I turned to the last page, where I saw the album's first and last picture of me. I was holding my old favorite rocket ship, and smiling. Underneath it read a caption,
June 1996. Our new son Danny plays with his toys.
It was almost as if my breathing had ceased. Everything was sickeningly quiet as the thoughts that had been spinning and whirring in my head stopped for a fraction of a moment. Then, within the same moment, everything clicked into place.
Oh my God," I whispered in horror, "I'm adopted."
My jaw fell slightly as the door was thrust open.
"Hey Danny boy!" My father said as he walked in jovially, we sent you down here long ago! Where's that cooler we asked you to-," he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.
Unable to change my expression, I looked up at him, mouth agape.
"Oh no…Danny…Danny, I can explain…"