Chapter Text
“You should try to be more careful, we’re starting to run out of bandages and I don’t get paid until next week.”
“Sorry, I’ll try not to get shot at next time,” Danny bit back, wincing as Jazz knotted the suture string just a little tighter than necessary
“I’m just saying,” She continued, her voice much gentler than her hands, “Try not to take so many unnecessary risks. Lift your arms.”
Danny grumbled but did as she said, allowing his sister to wrap the gauze around his torso. “I wouldn’t say protecting civilians is an unnecessary risk. It’s more like half my job description.” Jazz stopped wrapping to lightly poke him in the chest, careful to avoid the major injuries, while fixing him with a patented older sister glare.
“No, but using your body as a shield, is. Especially when I know you had other options.” Danny looked away, he didn’t have a good enough response to that. She was right, there were other options in hindsight. But in the moment- Danny had never been too good at hasty decision making. Jazz offered a weak smile and continued caring for his wounds, like the amazing big sister that she was. Ancients, Danny didn’t know what he would have done without her.
Footsteps in the hall had them both flinching to hide what they were doing. Jazz threw Danny’s shirt at his head, and he pulled it on as she shoved the messy first aid kit under the bed. They were the picture of inconspicuous when the bedroom door opened.
“Danny, dear,” It was Mom, hood pulled back and dripping with ectoplasm. “Your father and I just finished in the lab and were planning on a quick patrol before dinner. Could you clean it up for us before we get back?”
Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to fend off the impending nausea that was surely coming his way if he had to clean the remains of whichever poor ghost had fallen victim to his parents’ experiments, off the walls.
“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”
Maddie nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door. Both kids held their breath as she tilted her head curiously and walked back toward him, pulling a glove off of one hand with her teeth. Gross. She stopped in front of Danny, who could feel his heart pounding through his chest. Her ungloved hand ghosted over a bruise on his left cheek.
“Where did this come from, Danny?” There was anger in her voice and he tried not to flinch. It wasn’t directed at him.
He shrugged instead. “School.”
“You can tell me if someone is hurting you. Your father and I can take care of it for you.” Danny turned away. Her hand dropped. “Hm, I’ll see you both at dinner,” She said, standing up and walking to the door. They both nodded their assent as she left.
There was a trail of ectoplasm on his carpet now. He didn’t even want to think about who’s soul it used to be. He felt sick.
“I’ll take care of the lab for you,” Jazz said, setting the contents of their meager kit back in order before putting it away properly.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to, besides, you have homework.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. She turned the light off on her way out.
~~~~~~
Danny grunted as his back hit the mattress once again. It was a vicious cycle he’d found himself in, rotating between physically torturing himself, and letting himself be driven to mental insanity, but there was only so much time he could spend counting the red-orange flecks in the granite ceiling before going absolutely mad missing the the stars they had come to represent. Suffering the deep insatiable need to see the real thing. To dig his fingers into the dirt, feel a breeze on his skin. To exist outside of the solid box he couldn’t seem to escape even as the material of it changed.
He would escape this one. He would stand up and walk out and he’d get away. Or, he would try, at least. So far, the longest he’d managed was five seconds unassisted, meaning without holding onto anything to keep him upright, but once he remastered standing, walking would soon follow. At least, that was the plan, the logical progression of events. That was how it had worked last time. Though, last time didn’t seem to have been quite this bad.
The first time his body had failed him like this, it was because he had died. Then, it had taken less than a month to get back to semi-regular function, with the added bonus of superpowers. So these tremors, this pain, this weakness. It was all something he could push past, push down. Just another hurdle he’d have to get over. A minor complication, just like all the other times before it.
Besides, it was just standing, how hard could it really be?
Every muscle in his body was shaking with the exhaustion that weighed on him, bringing nausea to rest sickly in his abdomen. His clothes were drenched with sweat and beaded ectoplasm, and he hurt. But it was just standing, Danny. It’s not. that. hard.
With one hand planted firmly on the bed railing and the other gripping his IV pole, he focused on pulling himself upright again. The concrete floor was frigid under his bare feet. His knees shook and more ectoplasmic sweat beaded over his skin. One- Two- Thr-
Danny felt his knees buckle beneath him and he pitched backwards again. He hit the mattress; soaked through and shivering. A tremor passed through his left arm and down his body, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. A loud buzzing started, emanating loudly from his chest, a heat building up with it too, boiling just below his skin. He rolled onto his side and took another breath, trying to calm himself.
It’s fine, it’s normal. He would just try again. He would try again and he would get it right. He could get past this. He would get past this. He focused his breathing, he focused his thoughts. It was fine.
It didn’t help.
It didn’t help because nothing could.
The spring coil snapped. He grabbed for the nearest thing he could reach and threw it. The red glass shattered against the door, showering the surrounding area in glittering red powder and sharp edges. Danny watched it, his breathing heavy. He turned back to the nightstand and the collection of glasses that had been gathering there. He grabbed another one.
One by one, they shattered against the metal door and the surrounding concrete. Each bursting. Each shattering. Each littering the ground with dangerous shards and fine powder. Fat droplets of water trickled down the wall.
Eventually his hand came back empty, his meager supply of glasses finally depleted. The next thing that hit the wall was the night stand itself, crunching on impact just as the door opened. There was the slightest glimpse of blonde hair, so bright it might have been white, before whoever it was ducked back behind the door, avoiding the spray of splinters as the mangled piece of wood crashed to the floor with a satisfying crunch.
Danny exhaled harshly through his nose, closing his eyes shut against the haze of whatever maelstrom that had been, as he collapsed backwards. The mattress broke his fall, but just barely. It was a nicer mattress than he’d had, but it was still annoyingly thin. And the cotton of the pillows and sheets was clinging to his sweat-sticky skin, forcing his breathing to come out heavy and sharp to fend off the feeling of suffocating. The sheets had to go. Definitely. He cringed at the feel of the fabric against his skin but managed to disentangle it from himself and the bedding, only to toss it to some corner of the room, to be left until the adrenaline wore off and he got cold again.
But Ancients, even the set of sweats he was wearing felt suffocating. The thick fabric was bunching uncomfortably in some areas yet stuck like duct tape to the rest of his skin. He tried pulling on it some to readjust or relieve some of that sticky feeling, but there was no winning and nothing else to change into. And for the love of the deep dark void, he needed a shower now that he was thinking about it. A long hot one to chase away the chill and scour away the who-knows-how-long’s worth of grime that had built up on his skin. It was miserable. He hated it. He would really appreciate it if the feeling of stuff would just stop.
“Um, hi.” Danny flinched at the sudden reminder that there was another person nearby. Another person that sounded really fucking close actually. His eyes snapped open as he zeroed in on the voice’s source.
A girl. Tall. Blonde. Thin, but with toned muscle hiding not well beneath a loose burgundy cardigan. She was standing a respectful two-ish feet away, holding a shallow basket, and, unlike Robin, wasn’t wearing a brightly colored hero’s costume. She actually looked… fairly normal.
“I’m Cissie,” she said, her moment of hesitation nearly imperceptible. Danny stared at her, not because he was gaping at the sight of an actually normal looking teenager after so long of white suits and costumes, but because there really wasn’t anything else he could do in response. “Uh,’’ she carried on after a very long pause, “Right, I’ve got your meds here. Reddy says you like to look at them before I hook them up?”
Danny nodded, his movements were a little stilted but his hands were already reaching for the contents of the basket before she had even set it down in his lap. He wasn’t stupid; of course he checked every drug they pumped into him. He didn’t know these people, as helpful as they seemed to be, and therefore he couldn’t trust them. Besides, even if Danny knew next to nothing about pharmaceuticals or what any of the labels claimed they were, it gave him some kind of peace of mind to look it all over, to have that proverbial line in the sand.
Cissie stood back, watching as he turned over one of the syringes to peer at the information card on the back. He could feel her gaze shifting on and off of him at infrequent intervals. The occasional flicking of his own attention all but confirmed her less-than-pleased expression as she studied everything from the empty walls to the glass littered floor. Great, Danny grimaced as he set down the last of the drugs and pushed the basket back towards her.
She offered a quick smile before turning and getting to work setting up the IV. The following minutes were silent, which hopefully meant there wasn’t going to be much left to this interaction. He was wrong.
“So what’s with the-” Cissie gestured loosely at the pile of glittering shards and mangled wood, “that.” she came up with. “I know you probably weren’t trying to hurt me specifically but, like, that was kinda close, dontcha think?”
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, her awkward attempt at a joke; not landing. Her smile faltered a bit as she focused on depressing the plunger on the first syringe. The tube connecting it to the IV bag dyed a pale purple, as Danny wondered just how much idle chatter he’d have to pretend to listen to before he could return to his solitude. He only had two medications today, but they had to be administered 30 minutes apart so it would probably be more worth it to explode into a million pieces now and just not have to endure it.
“Anyway, I, uh, have this for you.” She flailed one handedly for something in the basket, leaving the other to stutter absently with the medication pump. “I found a whiteboard but no marker for it so Rob’s out getting a new one,” she explained, having produced both that and a green one-subject notebook that looked like it had seen better days. “For now you can just borrow my earth-science notebook until he gets back from the store.”
Danny nodded along as she passed the items onto his lap, a soft pastel pink pencil case following as well. She gave him another small smile before turning her attention back to finishing the first syringe.
“You don’t have to respond to me if you don’t want to, I just figured it would be nice to have the option, y’know?”
There was a slight pang at that, somewhere in his chest. So Danny shifted his attention to the notebook in his hands. Let her continue to talk about whatever as he flipped through the cluttered notebook in search of a clean page. He ghosted over the endless scrawl that detailed various events and theories, processes and names, and the bored classroom doodles that took up any leftover space between them. Then, every few pages, the chaotic mess would break for a page or two of neat diagrams and charts, notes and lines, all neatly highlighted in accordance to the legend that was doodled in the top left corner of each of these pages.
Despite the sheer difference between the two styles of pages, it was still obvious they were made by the same person. He could see it in the letters themselves, the way they were formed, or the way certain sentences were worded, and in the way the little doodles would persist throughout the pages, whether as random drawing or proper illustrations, it was all the same. It was all so normal.
He saw before he felt the drop of water hit the page, smudging a neatly highlighted formula into an illegible blur, and he rushed to push the whole book away to save it from the steady stream that seemed to be pouring out of him now.
And, really? This is what broke him? What finally got the tears to fall? Some fuckign science notes? Not the torture or the endless pain or the frustrations and the helplessness? Fucking science notes?
“Hey, are you okay?” Danny looked up, through the blurriness in his eyes to find the girl looking at him, really looking at him with worry and everything. Not pity or horror or fascination. Worry. And he wanted to ask her if that was a serious question because; obviously, look at him; beaten to a pulp, hooked up to so many tubes he couldn’t even count, completely out of his own power, and crying over some boring ass science notes.
“Sorry, standard question. Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked instead.
Something in his mind, the part that had been keeping him somewhat alive so far, wanted to push her away. Wanted to throw this stupid ass notebook at her and kick her out like he did with Robin, but that part of him was so tired. And it left such an empty feeling in his body. The need to be normal. The want to be able to rely on someone again. It felt like he was finally defeated and just couldn’t stand pushing these people away anymore.
He must have taken too long to answer, because her expression turned sour.
“I get it if you just need to be alone for a bit. I’ll finish up here and be on my way.” she mutters already beginning to pack up what little she had brought with her, though she didn't even bother reaching for the notebook i Danny's lap. He lets his hands fold overtop of it, not intentionally trying to hide it, but more so for the worry that if she remembers that she gave it to him, she might want to take it back.
She turned as if to leave at last, but to everyone's surprise, a bruised, shaky hand shot out to grab her wrist. It was a loose grip, barely even there, she could almost definitely pull her arm away if she had the strength of a newborn child, But they both paused, staring.
Her skin was warm, almost feverish against his own. Cissie gasped and looked at him with the widest shocked eyes. He snatched his traitorous hand away before she could yell about how weird and freaky and wrong he was, and how dare he touch her. He dropped his gaze to avoid the anger in her eyes, already beginning to slide back into his shell of apathy and despondence that had gotten him this far. He barely heard what she did say.
"Are you cold?" she asked, sounding- actually more worried than anything, really. Danny risked a glance up at her, and saw that exact emotion written across every line of her face. What? "I noticed it was chilly in here, but I can turn the heater up if you want?" the gentleness of her tone contrasted so harshly with Danny's expectation, he paused, stuck like a deer in the headlights and unable to even fathom any kind of response. Cissie seems to take his silence as a 'no', instead leaning one hip against the end of the bed. "Or if you just need some company I can stay?" she asks.
Slowly Danny gets his mind to come back to him. Company? He doesn't really want company does he? another person talking to him, as he's unable to talk back, or even just watching him as he sits and stares? He doesn't really want that. What does he want? Does it even matter? Freaky boys that aren't even human don't get what they want.
That fire from earlier sputters in his chest. He wants to walk. He wants to fly. To go. To feel the wind on his face and the sun on his skin. To see the stars and touch the clouds. He wants out. Even if she were willing, She couldn't give that to him. He would have to take that for himself. So he shakes his head and holds out the notebook for her to take back. She pointedly ignores it, even as Danny's arms shake from holding it up, she just looks at him fondly and promises to check back in every couple hours.
"I'm here all weekend," she says. smiles. leaves.
Danny watches the door for a stretch of time he couldn't even quantify if he tried, and he replays that hour over and over again so many times the memories become to warped for even him to parse out what was real or invented, so instead of thinking he scoots to the edge of the bed.
Cissie was right, it was really cold in there, but his blanket is still discarded to the corner and if he wants it, he'll have to take it.
He takes a deep breath and pushes himself back onto unsteady feet. Again and again and again.