Irony's A Bitch
By Boasamishipper
Spoilers for the last few minutes of 'The Stand'. Written because I couldn't get Danny out of my head, so here goes. *sobs* It's just so sad, isn't it?
Danny Matheson had been screwed from the second he had been born.
He knew it, right from when he was a child, growing up with asthma, digesting Maggie's medicines for dinner, and up to the moment when his dad had been shot because of his actions.
Everyone seemed to die because of him. Dad, trying to save him. Maggie, on her way to save him. Mom, although it turned out that she was actually alive. He was a baby: someone that people constantly felt the need to protect, to look out for even when he didn't need it. Charlie was always one of his protectors. She'd always stood by him, always helped him through an asthma attack.
But then today, in the Annapolis rebel camp, while Danny was gathering weapons and putting up walls to protect the rebels, Charlie had approached him.
"How're you doing?" she had asked.
"Fine," Danny had said, smiling. "And you?"
Charlie looked serious, which caused a twinge of concern to arise in him. "What's wrong?" Danny had asked.
"Look. When the militia gets here, I want you to go inside."
Danny tilted his head.
"The medics are going to need help with the wounded." Charlie quickly covered, but she'd never been good at lying. Danny gripped his shirt.
"Charlie, I-"
"Danny, I walked over a thousand miles to get to you. I won't let anything happen to you again. I don't want you to get hurt." Danny saw that his big sister meant every word she spoke, and she had tears in her eyes. But he didn't care.
"Charlie," he began gently, "I need to do this. For Dad, for Maggie. I'm not hiding like a scared little kid. I don't need you to protect me anymore."
Charlie looked like she wanted to protest, but then the sounds of helicopters interrupted her.
Every rebel in the camp froze.
"Get on the front lines!" Their commander had barked, and Danny obeyed. He knelt on the ground so fast and quick that he probably skinned his knees.
Instantly, two helicopters had appeared over the horizon.
"Wait for the signal…" Their commander barked.
Danny waited, his finger aching to pull the trigger, to prove his worth.
"Ready…aim…"
The helicopters bullets started pinging against the ground, shooting up dust and barely missing their bag walls.
"Fire!" the commander screeched, and Danny let it all loose, shooting everything he had.
Fighting was hard for him. So hard. Everything but shooting was erased from his mind. He saw everything through a haze of red, like he was having an asthma attack. Danny pulled the trigger again and again, seeing Charlie and Nora and even Aaron doing the same.
There were groans of pain in the air, and Aaron rushed onto the front lines to grab the wounded. Danny hoped for Aaron's safety.
"I'm out!" Charlie cried out.
Danny nodded.
If he had it in him, he'd say that he'd be screwed. It wouldn't be the first time.
And then, like straight from the arms of God, a horse-drawn wagon appeared from the distance, on which sat Uncle Miles and Mom, who looked ready to kick ass.
Nora, Charlie and he ran forward, dodging bullets to get to that weaponry. Charlie and Nora both gripped shotguns, and Danny grabbed a smaller, more complicated weapon. Miles grasped the biggest weapon there, something that looked like a bazooka. Danny watched Miles smile before running closer.
Miles dodged several bullets before hiding behind a car, before taking aim at one helicopter.
"Aim for that one, it's probably the one that has an amplifier on it!" Mom called, and Miles nodded.
But then another helicopter swerved closer, and shot close enough to Miles that he tumbled backwards and into a wall.
Charlie practically zoomed over there, Rachel and Nora right behind her. They pushed and prodded at Miles, begging him to wake up.
Danny remained frozen; the gears of his mind working so furiously it was a wonder no one could hear it.
Run. Grab the weapon. Finish the helicopters.
No. That would be…hard. Crossing the line. Killing was Miles's turf.
But weren't you just aiming to kill before?
The idea wouldn't go away.
The helicopters will kill everyone if you don't move, Danny. Run! Grab the weapon.
Everyone would be so proud.
They'd cheer for him. Maybe they'd think he'd be worth something without Charlie making them think it. Maybe they'd stop treating him like a baby. Maybe he'd avenge Dad and Maggie.
Without realizing it, something tore free and Danny felt every hurt disappear. He was moving forward, his feet swiftly obeying the commands of his heart even as his mind tried to process the fact that he was actually doing it. He was going to save the rebels.
Run, Danny. You're worth it.
"Danny!" He heard Miles yell from behind him, but Danny didn't listen. He examined the weapon closely. He pulled a lever and took meticulous aim at one helicopter.
With an earth-shattering whistle, the weapon blasted at the helicopter that –hopefully– had the amplifier on it. The helicopter exploded, its debris blowing everywhere. The other helicopter started to tremble in the air, like a dying insect. Danny grinned, knowing he'd succeeded.
Danny turned around to face the others. He knew that he had a big, stupid grin on his face but he didn't care because his earlier elation was still there from his moment of action. His heart and mind raced as he began to understand something.
He now finally understood; finally recognized that he was once more in control of his own destiny, and that he could save himself - had saved himself. He opened his mouth to tell Charlie this, to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that she didn't have to worry because Danny wasn't going to die, and Charlie wouldn't have to look out for him because he could save himself. He'd proved it to everyone.
But then Charlie's face changed. Her eyes grew wide and scared, and her smile morphed into a frightened warning that Danny barely had time to understand before his world exploded. Three bullet shots echoed in the still air, and Danny felt pure, undiluted agony.
Blood oozed over his stomach, and Danny wanted to panic, to scream, to do something, anything! He wanted to be there for Charlie, who was being restrained by Nora, and Mom, who was coming towards him as he fell to his knees.
But strangely, his pain evaporated into nothingness as the edges of his life began to go black. Strangely, he felt almost relieved. The pain was almost welcoming, in a way. He wanted to sink into its depths.
The agony blotted out all time until it held no meaning. The strangest part was that his euphoria of shooting down the militia helicopters somehow survived the pain and carried over into the after.
But where…
Where was…
Charlie.
Charlie was suddenly there, and her breath was fanning over Danny's cheek as she murmured words that soothed a soul that had been bruised, and beaten, and recently mended. Breathe, she screamed. Breathe!
Breathe…Danny had spent his whole life trying to breathe. To breathe through his asthma; to breathe through the pain of losing his dad.
His breath was getting foggier, yet to him, it had never felt clearer.
Faint.
So faint.
From far away, he heard her familiar promises of protection, of her wanting to save him, and this time the promises didn't hurt, or tear.
They wouldn't scar, because this time Danny had already protected and saved himself.
But then Danny died, and seriously, wasn't the irony just a bitch?
Sucks, huh? I know I'm a little bit late with my fic, but all Danny fics count. Review away, but please, be gentle.
-Boa