Danny winced, shifting in his seat at the back of Mr. Lancer's English class. He felt the eyes of his two friends, Tucker and Sam on him, and tried to still his movements. Under his sweatshirt, he pressed his hand closer to his side, trying to stop the sluggish bleeding, and hoping that nothing was showing through the grey fleece.
What should have been a quick shoot and grab with a deceptively dumb ghost, had turned deadly a few minutes earlier when the ghostly Arabian had pulled out a scimitar. It had been over quickly, nevertheless, but not before the ghost got in a good slice. He hadn't realized it was still bleeding, even in human form, until he was sitting back in English class, thermos tucked safely away. He'd pulled on his sweatshirt to try to hide the stains, but there wasn't much more he could do until after class, and he didn't dare pull another bathroom break-he was on thin ice with Mr. Lancer already, after skipping out that last test.
He hissed, at a particularly painful twinge. Seconds later, a paper appeared under his nose, Sam's handwriting scribbled across it.
Are you ok?
Danny nodded at her, grabbing his pencil in the hand not holding his side.
Got a little roughed up. I'm fine.
Sam gave him the look that meant she knew he was lying through his teeth. Danny sighed, knowing he couldn't hide anything from her.
Tell you after class.
Sam read his addition, frowning, but accepted that, and turned most of her attention back to the board. Mr. Lancer was expounding on the sonnet, but Danny was finding it hard to concentrate on the number of lines in a stanza with Sam still worrying about him, and the slowly spreading dampness against his stomach.
He bit his lip. It might be worse than he thought. He hadn't had a chance to look at it as a human, but he hadn't thought it was too bad…
Danny pressed his hand harder, trying not to let the increased pain show on his face. He only had to make it to the next class. He knew Sam carried bandages in her back pack, and he had some gauze too. They'd had to, thanks to annoying ghost fights, he never knew when he'd need a quick wrap up job on an injury. After class, he'd grab Sam, and get this thing fixed up. Just a few minutes more.
The rest of class passed in a sort of haze, where Danny's world consisted of the pressure of his hand against his side, and the warm blood against his palm.
Finally, finally the bell rang. Danny jerked out of his daze, again seeing Tucker and Sam's worried gazes. Ignoring them for the moment, he carefully stood, and motioned them to follow. He hoped to get this wrapped up, literally, quickly, before the next class started. He hated to be the reason they missed class.
He hardly taken a step before a wave of vertigo swept over him, and he had to grab on to the nearest desk to avoid falling. Tucker grabbed his arm, while he blinked the stars from his eyes.
'Mr. Fenton?" Mr. Lancer was peering at him as he steadied himself, Tucker and Sam obviously hovering worriedly. He smiled a bit, letting go of the desk.
"Just stood up too fast, sir." Danny said, trying not to grip his side too obviously. After another moment of study, Lancer nodded, and went back to his tests By this time, the class room was empty save for the three of them. Danny grabbed his backpack, and led his friends into the hallway.
After a glance up and down, he then phased them into a locked janitor's closet. Sam fumbled for the light bulb cord, and they all blinked in the sudden light.
Tucker grabbed Danny's bag from him, steering him to an upturned bucket.
"Okay, Danny. What's wrong? You've been wincing all through class."
"Guys it's not a big deal, I just got clipped in that last fight, and I didn't realize it was still bleeding. I only need some bandages."
Sam raised her eyebrow, not trusting his word. Danny let a breath, and raised up his sweatshirt.
"Oh my gosh, Danny!" Sam's face had paled. Danny frowned, and looked down at the wound.
It wasn't as bad as it could have been. His insides weren't pouring out, and there wasn't a lot of blood, though there was more than he'd thought. It had started to stain through the sweatshirt, and his white tee shirt was completely soaked. The gash, just under his rib cage, was a few inches long, but not very deep, and leaked blood slowly, adding to the wetness at the waistband of his jeans.
"Oh man." Danny gulped. Tucker looked ill.
"That's pretty nasty, dude." He said weakly. Danny nodded.
"Yeah…"
Sam suddenly jolted into action, her hands tearing through her backpack. Not finding what she needed immediately, she growled in frustration, and dumped everything out, books sliding to the floor, digging through the various notes and papers. The roll of bandages ended up by Tucker's foot, while she searched.
"Sam," Tucker said, holding it out to her. She snatched it from him, and gathered the other medical equipment from her pile on the floor.
Danny watched the whole thing tiredly, slumped on the bucket, with one hand still wrapped about his middle. Sam approached him, and knelt in front, meeting his eyes.
"Okay, Danny, you need to take off your shirt." She took a breath. "So I can see it closer. Tucker, get part of the bandages wet so I have something to wash it with."
She helped him pull off the damp tee shirt, and then leaned in closer, peering at the gash, a studious expression covering up her previous panic.
"Okay, I don't think you need stitches. With your healing, it would probably be pointless anyway. We'll just bandage it here, and hope it lasts the school day. We'll probably have to check it again…" She took a shuddering breath, looking again at Danny's pale face, and bloodstained stomach.
"Where'd you learn so much about medicine?" Danny asked, hoping to distract her, while Tucker ran the water. Sam focused again, taking the wet cloth, and beginning to dab at the blood.
"When you started ghost fighting, I got some first aid books. I figured someone needed to know what to do if a ghost got you worse than usual." Sam answered, not looking up from Danny's wound.
"Oh," Danny said, tensing as the pain began to increase. "Thanks." He managed, trying not to twist away. Tucker came up, gripping him by his shoulders, and Danny gratefully leaned against him.
"Thank me later." Sam said, pulling out a brown bottle. "This isn't going to feel good."
Danny gulped, eyeing it anxiously. "What is it?"
"Anti-septic. It'll stop it from getting infected. I guess. I'm kinda playing it by ear, ghost boy." She flashed him a quick and apologetic smile, before ripping off another section of bandage. "I need to get rags…" She murmured.
"Okay, Danny. Brace yourself." She wetted the cloth with the brownish liquid, and dabbed it to Danny's abdomen. They all winced, Sam and Tucker at Danny's muffled groan, and suddenly white face.
Danny's breathing quickened, as his side burned, and for a second his vision whited out.
"Oh man…" He groaned, realizing that Sam had been whispering to him for a while.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry…"
He gulped, feeling the pain die down, and slumped back against Tucker, panting.
"Okay, that wasn't fun…" Danny said, swallowing. He looked down at Sam, seeing sympathetic tears in her eyes, and felt Tucker gripping his shoulders like a life line. "Sorry…" He said.
Sam blinked. "What for? You got hurt, that wasn't your fault."
Danny shrugged, unable to form the words of what he was sorry about. Sam frowned, but dropped the conversation in favor of pressing a gauze pad against the gash, and then carefully wrapping the bandages around Danny's middle.
Danny concentrated on regaining control over his breathing, trying not to pant too much. Head hanging, he just breathed slowly in and out, while Sam finished and cleaned up a little. Tucker held a hand to his back, and Danny realized anew what great friends he had. He didn't deserve their loyalty, their faith in him.
"…Sorry," Danny whispered again, and again Sam paused in her actions to give him a confused look.
"Why, Danny? It wasn't your fault." Sam said.
"Yeah, man. You didn't mean to get almost skewered like a shish kabob!"
"Tucker!" Sam snapped.
"What? He did!"
Danny frowned, ignoring his friends and trying to bring his thoughts in order.
"I- I'm sorry that you have to learn first aid, and cover for me, and … you shouldn't have to…"
"Danny," Sam cut him off with a hand on his still fisted fingers. "We're your friends. That's why we have to."
Tucker put another hand on top of Sam's. "That's what we do, dude."
Danny smiled, trying not to wince in another jolt of pain.
"Yeah. I know." Sam and Tucker returned his smile.