A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and everything! You guys are awesome!
Chapter 2
Danny shuffled out of the building, propped up on one side by, Dr. Morgan, the morgue doctor that agreed to take him in for a few days. It didn't take too long to convince the social services lady to let the doctor look after Danny. Apparently, she had enough work on her plait that she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Plus, working for the city already required the background checks they would have needed anyway. Even with that time saver, they still spent a couple of hours sorting out the paperwork. Apparently, the only murder reported that day was Danny's and that was downgraded to assault and battery. So Doctor Morgan was free to leave for the rest of the afternoon, barring any other corpses turning up in their territory.
"I'll come back and pick up my bicycle once I get David settled in," Doctor Morgan said to the detective as he climbed into the cab after Danny.
Danny slid down against the door and rested his head on the window. He really just wanted to sleep. Coming back from the dead always wiped him out in the worst possible ways. He'd only had to do it a couple times before and none of those were fun. The worst was still his first death, waking up after they did the autopsy in an air tight and refrigerated drawer, aching all over and with a barely healed y-incision in his chest. He had very nearly suffocated before he had summoned enough energy to phase out of the drawer and get out of the morgue.
A jolt shot through Danny and he startled only to realize it was the cab stopping in front of an antique shop.
Danny blinked. He must have fallen asleep. He blinked again. It took a moment for him to remember how he'd gotten in a cab with the pain in his shoulder.
"David?" someone said, "David are you alright?" It was the doctor...from the morgue. He already had his door open and seatbelt off. "Perhaps we should go to the hospital, after all."
"No hospital," Danny ground out. He shook his head, forcing a better focus on his surroundings. The movement made his equilibrium sway, but he was still leaning against the car door, so Danny was pretty certain neither he nor the world actually moved.
Morgan, the doctor's name was Henry Morgan. The doctor agreed to act as Danny's temporary guardian to get him out of the clutches of state custody. If they went to a hospital, Danny could still end up in state custody and that was one thing he really wanted to avoid. He fumbled for the car door, and nearly fell out into the street when he finally got it open. Only Morgan's quick grab on Danny's shirt stopped him from hitting the ground.
"Careful, you're still recovering," Morgan said and pulled Danny back to an upright position. "Just wait, I'll help you out."
The doctor exchanged a quick thanks and some money with the cabbie, before hurrying around to help Danny. Danny pulled away as soon as he managed to get his feet under him and staggered onto the sidewalk.
The cabbie might have said something concerning Danny's condition, but Danny failed to catch it. He was too focused on not falling flat on his face. Coming back from the dead really left him more wiped than anything. Trying to go invisible back at the morgue did not help in anyway and it would only get worse if he didn't get some sleep.
"This way," Morgan said. One hand went to guide Danny, feather light, just as a precaution, and the other gestured toward the antique shop. Danny didn't trust his balance to pull away a second time.
"You live in a store?" Danny asked, frowning at the 'open' sign hung on the door.
"The apartment above it, actually," Morgan said. A bell rang as he opened the door. "Abraham?" he called. He held the door as he guided Danny inside.
Danny shuffled through, looking around at his surroundings. It was a small antique store sitting on the street corner. Two walls had large windows, easy escape routes if necessary. There was a door in the back and the type of nineteenth and early twentieth century furnishings and trinkets you'd expect to find in a more expensive antique store. The many knickknacks sitting around could act as useful ammunition if he needed to defend himself before his powers came back. It wouldn't work so much against any ghost but for a human it would work in a pinch, if he could get the strength needed.
"You're home early," an old man came out from the back. He cocked his head when he saw Danny. "Who's this?"
"This is David." Morgan introduced, "He'll be our houseguest for a short time. David, this is my… friend, Abraham. He owns this antique store."
There was the briefest hesitation over the word friend. Danny wasn't sure if he even heard it, his focus was so strained. He lifted a hand in what could have been a wave.
"Houseguest?" Abraham said with a puzzled, propping two fists on his waist. "What do you mean, houseguest?"
"David's going to be staying with us for a short while. I'll explain later," Morgan added in a sotto voice, as if Danny wasn't standing right.
Danny looked between the two men, entirely too tired to follow people talking around him. He settled on the old man. "I'm a homeless minor that got stabbed and needed a guardian so I didn't end up in state custody."
Abraham's eyebrows rose.
"Technically this is state custody," Morgan said and gestured to the back door. "Staircase to the apartment is in the back."
"It's state custody that's not going to care if I slip my noose in a few days when I'm healed up," Danny mumbled.
Abraham's eyebrows rose even more, and a smirk quirked his lips. "Kinda reminds me of another difficult patient I know," he muttered.
"None of that from you," Morgan sighed at the older man and turned back to Danny. "And you will most certainly not be healed in a matter of days," Morgan said. There was definitely a fatherly scolding note in that tone, to both of them, but at least he didn't deny that Danny would be allowed to disappear after he was healed.
Apparently, Abraham picked up on that as well. "But you're going to let him just walk off when he is healed?" His tone was as incredulous as those raised eyebrows were.
Morgan raised his voice toward the old man following them up the stairs. "I'll explained later, Abraham." There was that dad-tone again. It was starting to get painful to hear, brought up too many memories.
Danny closed his eyes with a huff for just a moment. It was a moment too long as he stumbled over the last few steps. Morgan's supporting hand kept him from laying out flat, though. Danny forced his eyes open after that. Coming back from the dead, healing the stab wound in his shoulder and again from the liver probe was really just too much for his body to take. He didn't even know when his last decent meal was. Really, Danny was surprised he came back at all, or that he was conscious.
"Let's get you sat down," Morgan said. "Before you fall down."
They pivoted and Danny got a brief glimpse of one part of a kitchen before they were turned to face a living room area with comfortable chairs and a couch.
"I'll get a towel for him to sit on," Abraham said. "Don't give me that look, Henry. He's filthy and still has blood on him. Do you want to have to clean the couch later?"
"S'alright," Danny said, the word coming out more slurred than he wanted to admit. "Need a shower, I know." He did need a shower the last one he had was…days ago? He wasn't sure. He was used to the grime by now, but the dried blood still clinging to places left him uncomfortable. At the moment, he was just too tired to care. At least the sweats donated to him by the police were clean.
"It's fine," Morgan said, "You'll get cleaned up after you've had a rest. I think the most important thing now is for you to get some sleep."
Morgan lowered Danny down onto a seat. Danny wasn't sure if it was the couch or one of the chairs. He lost track where they were headed somewhere halfway across the room. It really didn't matter, though. Whatever he was sitting on was soft, even with the towel over it, and perfect to just relax boneless into and sleep. That was all Danny cared about in that moment as he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Anything else would come later.
XxXxX
"Well, he's asleep, poor kid. Now care to explain?" Abraham said, turning to Henry.
"Remember that murder I was called to late this morning?" Henry asked as he shook out a blanket and laid it over David's crumpled and sleeping form. The boy was clearly exhausted, perhaps a result of what his body went through.
Abe nodded. "Yeah."
"It was his," Henry gestured to the boy then moved toward the kitchen. He needed a drink.
"What do you mean it was his?" Abe followed him, frowning as Henry pulled out a bottle of cognac and poured a splash into a tumbler. "Or do you mean attempted murder?"
"I mean this morning that boy was dead. He had a knife in his shoulder that almost certainly severed his brachial artery. His body temperature was seventy one degrees, ambient temperature of his surroundings. There was enough blood spilled out around him at the crime scene that death would be inevitable." Henry took a swallow, glad they had decided to store something stronger than wine in the house since Henry's break in abstinence.
Abraham frowned and recapped the bottle, placing back on the shelf. "Well, that's all well and good, but people have survive crazy things before despite all odds. You hear about them on those survival shows."
Henry shook his head. "Not being in an airtight body bag for forty minutes on top of that. That wasn't the most disturbing part." He took another swallow, thinking back to the scars. Now that he had a moment to reflect without anything else pulling away at his attention, Henry was certain there was something more to the boy's condition that a miraculous survival story. "When Lucas removed the shirt to begin the autopsy he found someone had already done one."
"Done what?" Abe asked. His eyebrows shot up again in disbelief. "An autopsy?"
Henry nodded. "David has the Y shaped scar used only in autopsies." He drew in a deep breath. "He has other scars. It's not…impossible that he's coming from a case of extreme and sadistic abuse, but put that together with everything else…" Henry finished his drink in a large gulp.
Abe pulled the bottle off the shelf again, poured Henry a little more then got a tumbler for himself. He cursed then finished his drink in one swallow, splashing some more into his glass. "So you think what? That this kid is immortal? Like you?"
"Certainly not like me," Henry said. He turned the tumbler in slow circles as he considered. "His body never disappeared. His collection of scar is presumably from all of his time alive whereas I've only kept the one scar from my first death. Any other injuries are wiped clean when I reappear. I've also never had this…exhaustion after a death." He waved a hand at the figure dead asleep on the couch. "Though that could also be a result from the clear case of malnourishment he's experiencing."
"But you do think he's immortal," Abe said, leaning in toward Henry and lowering his voice. He was getting protective again. In some ways, Henry found Abraham's protective streak for him odd. Henry couldn't die so very little could actually touch him. It was Abraham that needed the protecting, not Henry.
"I think it's something we need to consider," Henry said. He didn't want to commit to saying it out loud. The prospect was to awful and at the same time too hopeful to say out loud.
Abraham cursed again and finished his second drink. Thankfully he didn't pour a third. They both needed to keep clear heads. "So what's the plan? You're not just going to tell this kid about you, are you? What if he turns out to be another psychopath like Adam?"
Henry shot Abraham a glare. "I have no intention of telling anyone anything, but we do need to investigate further. If his condition is…similar to mine and Adam's, wouldn't you want to know? That's one more person in the world even remotely like myself. If that is the case can we risk Adam getting a hold of him? The boy's fourteen!"
"No," Abe lifted a finger to stop Henry. "The guy looks fourteen. If he's immortal then we have no way of knowing how old he actually is."
Henry had to concede that point. "We still need to know."
"And we will," Abraham said with a decisive nod. "We just need to make sure the guy doesn't go anywhere before we do." He put the cognac away and his tumbler in the sink. "I'll go get some sheets. He'll have to sleep on the couch for now. Probably should get some towels and toiletries ready for him. He really does need a shower."
"Abraham," Henry stopped his son's movement to the linen closet. "When he does wake up, be kind to him. Immortal or no, he's been through hell."
"C'mon, what do you take me for, dad?" Abraham's crooked smile showed there was no insult and perhaps too much understanding for Henry's request. He pat Henry's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll figure this out."
Henry nodded. He turned back to the heap on the couch. Only the slow rise and fall under the blanket and the unkempt mob of hair poking out gave any indication that the lump was a person. Henry hoped for the boy's sake that he was wrong. Being immortal was not something to be envied, and to be forever fourteen even less so. Still a part of him, a very small, selfish part, hoped it wasn't just him and Adam trapped in the world this way.
XxXxX
Danny woke to the smell of eggs and bacon. It was heavenly, especially considering the only way he woke to that scent these days was to crash behind a diner and then the smell was usually tainted by the dumpsters nearby. He blinked his eyes open only to find himself staring at the inside of throw blanket. That threw him off. It took a solid minute of lying perfectly still, listening to the faint clatter of someone in a kitchen and the sizzling pop of breakfast cooking to even attempt to remember where he was. Even then it wasn't until he heard his host's voice.
"This is a little more elaborate than normal, Abraham." Henry Morgan, that was the guy's name. He was the doctor from the morgue that thankfully didn't cut Danny open.
"Well, I figured at least one of the residents in this household needs a hearty meal, and what better way to start than with breakfast." That was the other guy, Abraham. He was the one that owned the Antique store.
That's right, Danny got killed…again. He was stabbed after packing up his bed-down spot in the park by some junkie looking for a lucky score. Granted, the guy hadn't been targeting Danny specifically and it was at least partly Danny's fault for getting involved in a fight that wasn't his business, but that didn't change the end result.
"Excellent idea," Morgan said. "It's just as well. I'm staying home today to try and sort out better sleeping arrangements for our houseguest. I was thinking we could clean out the storage room. It's a little smaller than the ideal, but it's better than the couch and state law requires he have his own room, even if it is temporary accommodations."
"That could work, but we'll need to move those things somewhere and the only place I can think of is your cave," Abraham replied.
"Yes, that's fine for the moment," Henry said, "Has he shown any sign of moving?"
"Not yet, but I think I hear a stomach rumbling," Abraham said just as Danny's stomach let out a loud growl.
Danny grimaced and pulled the blanket down from his head. He blinked as much from the sudden light as trying to rid the grogginess filling his senses. "'M awake," he croaked.
"There he is," Abraham announced, entirely too chipper for Danny's taste, while Dr. Morgan said "Good morning."
Danny scrubbed a hand over his face. He still felt drained but not as tired as he had the day before. He looked around. He was stretched out on the couch, towels underneath him and blanket on top of him. Someone removed his shoes and lined them up at the foot of the couch. He was pretty sure when he fell asleep he was sitting up, but those last few minutes were so blurred he didn't know.
The apartment itself was open concept, at least in the common areas. The kitchen was to one side with another corner of the room sectioned off for dining and the last third of the room a living area, where Danny was. The furniture was rich and classical with a modern twist here or there, definitely upscale. The whole place looked like it belonged to two people who owned an antique shop with a healthy income and enjoyed the finer things in life. Danny instantly felt out of place.
"Do you need help to the table, David?" Morgan asked.
It took a moment for Danny to remember the fake name he gave yesterday. "Uh, no, just give me a moment. I can manage."
"Right," Morgan said while standing up, "Get settled at the table then and I can do a quick checkup on your injury before we have breakfast." He moved around down a hallway.
"That's really not necessary," Danny said, leaning over to try and keep the doctor in sight. "I'm fine," he said to Abraham instead. "I don't need another checkup and I can change my own dressings in the bathroom."
Abraham pointed at Danny with the spatula. "You're not just his patient. You're basically his ward at the moment. He's got the manners of a nineteenth century gentleman so he takes those types of responsibilities very seriously." He shrugged, unapologetic. "It'll only take a minute. If you're fine then you have nothing to worry about." Abraham turned back to the stove and flipped something over. The sound of sizzling filled the room with renewed vigor.
Danny cursed to himself. He didn't know how healed his shoulder was. It still hurt. The pain thrummed down his arm and into his chest especially when he moved. For once, he was glad he hadn't had much to eat in the last week. With his condition being so bad, it would slow his healing down but it probably would still be farther along than a normal person's at this point.
Pulling his good arm down below the blanket and out of sight of anyone else, Danny focused on turning it invisible. His hand faded only a fraction before a wave of dizziness and fatigued slammed into Danny. He slumped back against the couch and had to close his eyes as the room stopped spinning and he got his bearings again. He didn't even manage semi-transparency and he already wanted another nap. This was why he got stabbed in the first place, if he'd been in better shape he'd never have let a common junkie get him.
"David?" Abraham asked, standing over Danny with a worried frown. "You alright?"
Danny startled, eyes snapping open and pressing back into the couch.
"Sorry," Abraham said, backing away with hands held up. "You went pale for a moment, at least more than you are right now. Looked like you were going to faint."
Maybe I did blackout for a moment, Danny thought, wondering how Abraham got so close without his noticing. Alright, no powers for a while. "I'm fine, really. Just… need to work up to standing." Yup, that'll convince him that you're fine, Fenton.
"Well, good thing Henry's going to give you that checkup," Abraham muttered. "Sure you don't need help?" he asked, backing up a few more steps but staying in the living room area. He watched Danny with one eye and breakfast with the other.
Just to prove he could do it, Danny pushed himself up from the couch and walked over to the table. The last few steps were more of a shuffle and he dropped into the chair heavier than he meant to, but he made it unaided. That was the important thing.
"Stubborn" Abraham muttered and returned to the kitchen. "Henry, you're patient's waiting!"
Danny scowled. "I don't need a checkup," he said as soon as the doctor came into the room with an old fashioned, black medical bag. "Really, Dr. Morgan. It's fine. All I need is some food, a shower and some more rest, and I'll be fine."
"Please, call me Henry," Henry said as he set the medical bag down on the table. "And while I agree on the food, shower, and rest, you need to have someone check on the wound site and basic vitals. There's no telling what contaminants could have been introduced into the wound between the knife and surface contaminants."
"I know how to check for infection," Danny huffed. "I've been on the streets long enough to know the warning signs.
Henry nodded. "If that is supposed to deter me then you're going to be disappointed. As your current guardian and the physician that treated your wound, I am responsible. Not to mention losing that much blood is going to put a strain on your system. Which reminds me," he turned to the kitchen. "Abraham could we have a picture of water or orange juice if we have it along with breakfast. We need to get fluids into his system. We would have done that last night, but didn't want to wake you." Henry turned back to Danny.
Danny pressed himself back into the chair. He'd get up and move away but didn't want to risk falling flat on his face. "I know how to manage blood loss, too," he said, and put careful effort into keeping his tone level.
Henry was not deterred, opening his medical bag. "While that's both gratifying and disturbing to know it does not change the fact that you're going to have your health and progress checked. We can either do it at the hospital or we can do it here, which do you prefer?"
"I'd listen to him, kid," Abraham said. "Henry's very particular about his ethical duties."
Henry leaned forward resting both arms on his knees and looked Danny dead in the eye. "Whatever you're trying to hide won't go farther than these walls."
Danny scowled. There wasn't really any getting out of this. "Here," Danny muttered. He could do more damage control with two people present rather than a whole hospital staff. "But you should know I don't match the baseline very well," he added in a rush.
"Some deviation from the average baseline is normal," Henry said, stethoscope already around his neck and blood pressure cuff in his hands.
Danny hesitated before handing over his good arm to have the blood pressure cuff wrapped around it. "Yeah…mine's a little more…than the average deviation…" Danny said before the doctor shoved a thermometer into his mouth. Danny watched as Henry's expression shifted from concentration to concern as he took Danny's pulse and blood pressure.
"This can't be right…" Henry muttered.
"Eggs," Abraham said, putting a large platter of scrambled eggs with what looked like peppers and onions on the table. The steam rose in tandem with the scent making Danny's mouth water. It almost managed to distract him from the troubled expression on the doctor's face.
"Abraham," Henry said, "check this pulse."
"Losing your touch?" Abraham asked and took Danny's wrist. "Been a while but…" It took him a moment to find the right point. Danny could tell when he did, because a similar concerned frown spread over his face.
Danny squirmed on his chair. "It's normal for me, I swear," Danny said. He could not go to the hospital.
"Fifty beats per minute is…low," Henry said, eyeing Danny. "But not impossible…just…highly unlikely."
That was a better reaction than Danny was expecting. Maybe this wouldn't be that bad. Henry pulled out the thermometer. His expression very carefully did not change as he read the display. Danny winced but remained silent.
"Abraham, I believe your bacon is about to burn," Henry said, looking at his friend.
"Oh!" Abraham hurried back around the kitchen island to the stove and pulled a skillet off the burner. "Well, we'll just have it extra crispy today," he muttered.
Henry ignored the comment and sat down in the chair next to Danny. "You don't need to worry. If you say it's normal and healthy, then I believe you. I'm not going to tell anyone."
Danny frowned. That really wasn't the reaction he was expecting.
Henry placed the thermometer face down on the table. "My main concern is making sure you're healing properly from your injury. To make sure that is happening, though, you need to be honest with me. Now, what is your average body temperature?"
Biting his lip, Danny hesitated. He glanced over to Abraham. They both seemed sincere, but he'd been fooled by false sincerity before with disastrous results. He looked back at Henry. Danny really couldn't go to the hospital, though. "Eighty six degrees Fahrenheit."
Henry nodded and glanced back at the thermometer before shaking it out again. "You're a little cool for your average, then but that's not unusual considering your physical condition and the trauma your body's been through. The best thing to do is eat some hearty meals, drink plenty of fluids, and get plenty of rest."
Danny eyed Henry a moment, unable to believe his luck. "So…you're not going to freak out about me being…technically hypothermic?"
Henry frowned at Danny in a moment of consideration. "You're awake and lucid, clearly suffering fatigue, but that's to be expected. There's no reason for you to lie about your average body temperature and no indications that you are lying. If your condition worsens, we'll readdress it, but for now I'm satisfied with you basic vitals and reactions." He pulled off his stethoscope and put it back in the bag with the blood pressure cuff.
Abraham brought over a plate of sausages and bacon. The smell would make angels cry. It was all Danny could do to not grab the closest handful of food and shove it in his mouth. A plate slid in front of him along with fork and a knife.
"Bon appetite," Abraham said and that was all Danny needed.
Danny shoved his plate against the serving platter with the sausages and bacon. He swept a healthy serving on his plate, feeling only marginally bad for taking more bacon than was coming to him. He tried to take less eggs to make up for it.
"Don't eat too much, too fast," Henry said. "You stomach won't be able to take it."
Danny's stomach said, yes it could handle this food, but experience agreed with the doctor. So Danny slowed his pace. For several minutes, eating took up all of his concentration. There might have been a conversation between Henry and Abraham, but Danny didn't hear it or care. The only thing that mattered was filling himself up with the best food he'd had in weeks.
When he finally slowed down he glanced up at his hosts. They were politely ignoring his ravenous shoveling of food into his mouth with the odd comment about the day's plans between the two of them. With his stomach growing full, a solid night's sleep behind him, and his head finally, fully clear, Danny had to ask, "Why?"
The question drew both men to look at him.
"Why are you doing this?" Danny asked again, then clarified. "Helping me, I mean." He forced himself to look straight at the doctor, willing the man to be honest. It had been a long time since anyone had helped him, without strings attached, at least. It had been a long time since Danny let anyone help.
Henry drew in a deep breath and looked back at Danny. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. When he did speak, it was slow and deliberate, but also seemed sincere. "You've been through some…very difficult things in your life… While I'm sure I can't know or understand all of it…I'm certain I can relate to some of it."
That wasn't the only reason. Danny had a bad feeling it included something about the scars, especially the giant one on his chest. The doctor saw them after all. It was only a matter of time before the questions came. It was a good start, though.
"I'm going to have to check the injury site after breakfast," Henry said, almost sounding apologetic.
"It's not infected," Danny said, near desperate. Abnormal health stats were one thing. Accelerated healing? That would be hard to explain.
Henry pursed his lips, considering his words again. He pushed his plate away and steepled his fingers in front of him. "When we found you, you were dead. That knife would have severed the artery and you would have bled out in seconds, minutes if you were lucky and the knife stemmed the flow. Combine that with the Y shaped scar on your chest and your reaction upon waking and it tells me this is not the first time you've died, for lack of a better term. Now consider your recovery and ability to use your left arm despite the severity of the wound, ignoring the parameters that the average person operates with, it's only logical that your wound would heal faster than the average rate."
Danny sat frozen, eyes wide, hardly daring to breathe. He didn't know what to do with this, any of it.
Abraham leaned forward in the silence, earnest, and said, "We're not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."
Danny shifted. There wasn't any reason to trust them. Twenty four hours was not long enough to build trust or demonstrate sincerity. Without his powers, or more specifically, with his powers tied up in healing his injuries, Danny was stuck. If he wanted to sneak out he would have to do it the old fashioned way and once he got out he was going to have to figure out how to survive on the street without any of his gear. He didn't even have a normal set of clothes.
Gripping his shaking hands under the table, pain shot down his left arm with the strain. A clock ticked from a shelf counting the duration of the silence. Danny huffed. "Fine, but you have to swear it doesn't go in any report or journal, nothing written down, and neither of you tell anyone," he said, looking up at each man with narrowed gaze.
"You have our discretion," Henry nodded. He moved around the table, bringing a chair and his medical bag with him.
Abraham got up and cleared the table. He very specifically didn't look at Danny. It helped, especially when it took a couple minutes to work up to revealing the wound in the first place. Even after Danny got up the nerve to slip off his shirt it took another few moments to get it off. Moving around reminded him how very sore and bruised he was. Normally, the minor bruises and things would be healed within a few hours, but as he noticed before, when his body had a fatal injury to manage everything else was put to the sidelines. Being short on food for so long didn't help either.
To the doctor's credit, he didn't give any outward reaction at seeing Danny's injuries. He was calm and professional. Granted he'd seen the full extent of it yesterday, had examined Danny's corpse before any healing even had a real chance. Still, Danny always though injuries looked worse on the second or even third day. That gave time for the bruises to come out, discoloration and swelling to fully set in and make the full extent of injury known.
The main injury came first and Henry pulled away the bandages with a practiced hand and as little pain as possible. His eyes narrowed as he focus on cleaning and checking the wound. For a moment, Danny thought the entire process would pass in awkward silence, but then the Doctor started with the questions.
"How long does your body usually take to heal from injuries?" Henry asked, attention still focused on the injury.
Really, the awkward silence was better.
Henry looked up when Danny failed to respond. "I need to know what's normal for you so I can know if something is wrong."
Unfortunately, that was a fair point. The sounds of Abraham cleaning up in the kitchen grew deliberately louder. It was surprisingly considerate.
"I… uh… haven't really measured it. It… it sorta depends on different things," Danny mumbled, "normal things like small bruises and cuts heal in a few hours, more serious ones in a day or two, bones… in a week or two." He almost shrugged but remembered to keep his shoulder still at the last moment. He twitched his head to one side instead. "It depends." He kept his gaze on a far wall even when the doctor tried to meet it.
"Well, your physical condition is not helping your recovery. This isn't too much healed from yesterday," Henry said.
Danny frowned. "Really?" he asked, looking down at his shoulder. That was a little insulting. He finally got up the nerve to tell someone about some part of his abilities and they quit on him. Now, he looked like a liar.
"I do believe you," Henry said and from his tone Danny was tempted to believe that the doctor believed him, except that it was too ridiculous for any rational person to believe. "It is several days farther along than I would have expected."
"That's no reason why you should," Danny muttered.
"Except for the minor fact of a dead person coming back to life on my examination table," Henry returned. "What you need is food, rest, and a dry, warm place of safety so your body can finally begin to recover. Let me look at your side, where we inserted the liver probe."
Danny glanced down, surprised to find a bandage tacked over the small puncture site. When did that happen?
"I checked it last night," Henry said. "You were exhausted and didn't wake up."
"Oh," Danny chewed his lip. He didn't like things happening to him that he wasn't aware about, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. He ripped off the dressing with less care than the doctor showed for Danny's shoulder.
Henry checked the wound site, humming with approval. "It seems to be healing well. I was worried about the internal bleeding, but minor bleeds can sort themselves without the need of surgery so long as we keep close watch on you vitals. Combined with quick healing and it will be fine."
Words escaped him at the moment so Danny only nodded. The last time someone had discovered even a portion of his secret and didn't want to capitalize on it was when Jazz found out. There really wasn't any reason why he should trust these people. Doctors in general were too curious, too inquisitive, too intrusive. They wanted to write scientific papers and get their names published in some medical journal. This doctor, being a medical examiner would be worse if anything. It was his job to pry into people's lives for the police.
And yet…
And yet, there was something about Henry and Abraham that made Danny want to believe they were telling the truth about keeping Danny's condition a secret. Maybe it was just Danny hoping he wouldn't have to make another dangerous escape from someone, that he would get a chance to heal and rest in peace.
Whatever it was, Danny was willing to wait. There wasn't much of a choice, anyway. He would still be cautious, but for the next day or two he could afford to follow doctor's orders and just let himself rest.
"Why don't you go get some more sleep?" Henry suggested, gesturing to the couch.
Danny nodded again, tired all over again even though all he really did was wake up and have breakfast. He shuffled back to the couch, eased himself down and fell instantly asleep.
TBC…
Take care of yourselves and each other! Thanks for reading!