I've been writing random stuff and posting it on tumblr, but it was getting disorganized over there, so I am uploading it all here, too.

This was written for Angst Day - October 1, 2013.

Still Human

There was a loud clank as the familiar cell door was opened, its sole occupant tossed unceremoniously inside.

Her initial reaction was underwhelming at best. It had woken her, as it did every night, but she merely turned away and shut out the world again. The routine was monotonous, and there was nothing irregular about tonight's late entry.

Except that instead of emitting a few short groans before falling to silence, her cell neighbor made noises that caused her to turn over in shock.

They'd been here for months. There were no calendars, no way to tell the passing of time except for the consistency with which their captors would come and take them away for torture and experiments. Every ghost got its own special cell, small enough to compare to that godforsaken thermos, shielded in by spectral energy. Ember was sandwiched in between Phantom and Skulker, and all the other ghosts the agency managed to capture were down the hallway from them. Phantom's cell was at the end because it was the only one that required an actual structure; his was the only one that clanged shut when he got thrown inside.

Not once in those unaccounted for months had she heard him do more than groan and bear it. Every ghost endured the tortures; every ghost got experiments performed on them. He knew it, she knew it. They all knew it. And they all hated it. But there was little they could do. This agency had studied ghosts thoroughly, and escaping was nigh impossible. Sometimes they would stay up late and discuss escape plans – fruitless as their efforts may be – but no one did much more than groan and ache when they came back from their sessions.

Phantom's schedule always ran late. For most of the ghosts, it was like an average work day. Wake up, get grabbed and poked and prodded and forced to perform unimaginable feats. Then they'd go back to their cells and seethe and talk and sleep if they felt like it. As ghosts, they didn't necessarily need much else. Although the inability to feed their individual obsessions sometimes resulted in fascinating tests the following day…

But Phantom…

He was special. He was the most different of them all. Everyone knew it. And everyone knew they treated him differently because of it. But not differently as in "he's human so we have to go easy on him." Differently as in they had to squeeze as much data out of him as possible…no matter what the cost.

So hearing him come in late, groaning and sighing in resignation, was no surprise for Ember. As a generally apathetic being, she would normally roll over and go back to sleep, dreaming of crowds cheering as she played her latest work of art.

But tonight, it was not a groan. It was not even a muffled whimper. He was full-on sobbing his guts out, and through her haze, she turned to look at him.

He was not far from her. All of the ghosts could talk and see each other through their barriers. It was a little more difficult with him because, in addition to his ghost cell, he also was encased by heavy metal bars. But if she scooted just two feet over, he'd be within an arm's reach of her.

"Please," she heard him whisper, and she finally scooted toward him, noting as she came to full consciousness that his usually-pristine suit looked torn and was barely hanging off of his bony frame.

Glancing back at the other ghosts, she noted from Skulker on that everyone else was still asleep. Noting this, she turned back to Phantom and called to him quietly.

"Hey. Dipstick."

His reaction was not what she'd expected. He drew in a sharp, gasping breath, and his sobbing stopped almost immediately.

"S…Sam?" he responded gently.

She blinked at this, confused. This was…odd. Wracking her brain, she seemed to have a vague recollection of the ghost boy's girlfriend having this name. But that was most definitely not her name.

Breathing heavily, he turned over, and she got her first look at him. He was beaten and bruised, and she almost turned away in embarrassment because his suit was so torn that it hid very little from her anymore. She looked at his face and noticed that his eyes were closed, as though he had fallen asleep. Tears still cascaded down his cheeks, and his brow was furrowed in obvious pain despite his lack of sentience.

Without thinking, she reached out a hand to brush away his bangs. It was only after she'd made contact that she realized their cells were no longer separated by a spectral energy shield. Only the bars stood between them. She was about to alert him to this revelation – if it was true of the other sides of his cell, he could escape and help them all out – but immediately after she touched him, he screamed.

"NO! PLEASE!" he rasped so loudly that Ember backed away from him and turned toward the other ghosts in shock. Surprisingly, nothing more than a stir from Skulker, who simply turned his back. Were they all really this oblivious…?

Turning back to Phantom with wide eyes, she noted that he'd opened his own, but he was staring unblinkingly at the ceiling as his chest heaved for air.

"Don't," his voice returned to a whisper. "Don't touch me, please."

The confusion on her face slowly dissipated and was replaced with a gradual and dark look of understanding. She felt her hair spark in a sympathetic motion. They'd done something to him today. Something different. She took in the red, finger-shaped bruises all over his body and the clothes that barely graced his figure…and concluded that today, they had subjected him to something horribly unspeakable.

His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and though he stared at the ceiling, she knew he saw nothing. He was not aware of his surroundings. Was blocking out every horrific memory of the day. He was shaking, and his breathing was erratic, and she could think of nothing else to do, so she whispered his name.

"Danny."

At the sound of his name – his real first name that no one ever called him anymore – his breathing slowed and his entire body seemed to stop trembling and relax. His eyes closed most of the way, and the only thing left shaking was his voice as he repeated, "Sam?"

Again, she blinked. But she was slowly beginning to understand what was happening, and she decided, since no one else was looking, she could help…

"Danny," she said again, purposefully using his name. "It's okay."

It sounded emotionless and dumb even as it left her mouth, and when she heard him start to breathe more heavily, she decided more had to be done to keep him quiet and simultaneously keep her tough, rocker façade intact. One more scream and the other ghosts would surely take notice and see her over here consoling the whelp.

"I'm going to hold your hand. Okay?"

Her voice sounded almost disgustingly sweet, and she cringed. Meanwhile, he tensed at the suggestion before slowly nodding his head and stretching his hand away from his body, opening his palm and separating his shivering fingers. She looked at her own glowing hand for a moment before reaching steadily for his. Her fingers brushed against his lightly, and he bit his lip to keep from overreacting to the touch. She watched his face to gauge his readiness before slowly entwining their fingers, his skin hot against hers.

Once the gentle touch had settled in, she felt the tension leave his hand, and she watched as it then spread throughout his body, resulting in a short, stuttering sob of relief. This was all. Just a reassuring gesture. No harsh commands or grabbing or tearing or shoving or forcing of any kind. Not all touching was bad. Not all.

She sat there with her arm through the bars, holding the hand of a foe she'd sooner have done away with just a few months ago. She watched him adjust to her touch, and she sighed as he held her hand just a little tighter.

"It's all right, Danny. It will be all right. You just…" her voice became distant, "have to forget. That's the best thing to do. You don't want to remember. Just forget."

Ironic advice coming from her, but she saw him shut his eyes all the way as he drifted into a semi-conscious slumber.

"Thanks, Sam," he mumbled, and she frowned in return.

"Say my name, Danny," she pleaded then, her voice a little desperate. "Say my name."

"Ember?"

The sound caused her hair to flare, but she noted with just a bit of disappointment that it had not been Danny who'd said it. Not letting go of the boy's hand, she turned to the occupant of the other adjacent cell.

Skulker cocked an eyebrow, his eyes trailing down to her hand and back up in question.

She would have blushed and pulled away if it had been anyone else.

"He's been…it's been a rough night for him," she decided, smoothing her thumb absently across the back of Danny's hand.

He gave her a look as if to say, "Hasn't it been a rough night for everyone? What makes him so special?" And she could read it in his eyes as she shook her head at him, unwanted tears threatening to emerge as haunting memories tried to force themselves to be remembered by her.

"It's different," she whispered, looking down at him and trying to hold back resentment that he still thought she was Sam. "He doesn't need…trivial things to survive like we do. He just needs…to be treated like he's human. He's still human."

Skulker watched with interest as Ember brought her other hand to hold it over top of Danny's. A tear might have slid from her eyes, but he'd never admit to seeing that. Not unless he wanted to get pummeled.

"So are you, Ember," he noted quietly before turning his back and giving a moment to the broken souls connected by a broken shield.