The End of the Tunnel

Chapter 10

-Hope Less-

"'Real is Truth and Truth changeth for no man,' saith Reason against Illusion."

Lancer should've reported this incident. He should've done what was right. Unfortunately, he didn't know what was right anymore. His job, his rules, said he was to report this student at the moment it happened. His moral compass, his empathetic humanity, his soft spot for the young lads and lasses…told him to help. Reporting Daniel for making a scene in front of no one, and hurting no one and nothing, seemed pointless. Daniel would inevitably be turned away from any authority figure with the power to help him through whatever troubles he was experiencing. Lancer had personally seen that kind of thing happen in the past. Students didn't need to be reported when they weren't a threat, they needed someone they could trust. They needed a person. Not an obedient drone. And if allowing this incident to slip meant getting himself into a very sticky situation later down the road, well, it was a chance Lancer would take.

So instead of letting Daniel take a hit for no reason, he let the boy ride out his episode, once again vowing to keep his secret. Just because Daniel wasn't keeping his promises didn't mean Lancer would let the boy drown.

The episode itself lasted for about an hour, but Lancer hadn't known when it began so this was only an estimated guess. But, that had all passed anyway. He tried to convince himself that it didn't matter in the present, and that he should've been focusing on the here and now, but it was difficult. The growing feeling of darkness in his stomach kept him on a constant edge, even days after Daniel had failed to keep his promise against using MDMA on school grounds.

Only today, only with Ms. Manson at his desk during after-school hours, did Lancer realize just how right he was to feel that uneasy about Daniel.

She was actually the one who asked to see him rather than the other way around. He'd already known it was about her friend.

Ms. Manson looked nervous in her chair but at the same time she radiated an air of resolve. The rare combination of soft yet intense in her facial expressions only meant that her patience had run thin with something; she was no longer able to tolerate whatever subject she was about to bring up to him and he highly doubted it had anything to do with academia. Fortunately, with all the stress he had been having recently with Daniel, he wouldn't likely be blindsided with any trivial matters of the youth in his class.

Ms. Manson took a deep breath and pulled out a long white string that had been tied into a large loop with a particular knot about halfway down; it was set in front of him but was met with confusion.

"Danny's, um… He's having troubles lately and, I don't think Tucker can help him, aaaaand I know I can't help him, I-I've tried…" Her jaw clenched as she tried to blink away tears that weren't there when she first sat down.

Lancer could've laughed at how insane this was becoming. He was absolutely willing to help any of his students with their problems yet the one student that he couldn't help was the one becoming the problem. It wasn't exactly his obligation to fix Daniel, but for all he knew, next at his desk would be Mr. Foley with a similar complaint about the same person.

"I've tried to talk to him, we've tried to talk to him," the girl finally continued. "I don't know who else to go to."

Lancer scanned over the random string his charge had produced but found no significance or connection between it and…anything.

"I'm afraid I can't talk about any issues Daniel has brought up to me with other students," Lancer replied.

The only loopholes through that were if he had Daniel's explicit consent or if one of those issues presented a threat to the student he was talking to. Neither of those criteria were met…yet.

"That's fine. Just…hear me out," she said. "This needs to be said and Tucker can't bring himself to…"

Her voice trailed off more in preparation to get the worst of the conversation over with. She clearly knew what to say, but if she or her friend felt that telling him about Daniel's problems or any concerns they had about Daniel was betrayal at all, then he imagined she was already trying to overcome obstacles by merely being here behind Daniel's back.

"I'm listening," he said calmly.

She sighed nervously and fiddled with her thumbs while she assembled her thoughts.

"Danny's depressed and angry and…" She paused for a moment to wipe a tear from her cheek, sniffled, and continued, making a quick gesture to the string. "He made this earlier today. At first I didn't really get what it was but when I asked him how he was feeling later, he said, 'So fly I wanna die.'"

Suddenly the random piece of string became a random noose that wouldn't have done its job regardless of whether it was used or not.

"I know he's been thinking about it for at least a few days but he kept telling us not to worry," she said. "Kept promising us everything was fine."

Ah…now didn't that sound familiar.

"I've tried to give him a list of all the good things he has in his life right now but…" Ms. Manson didn't bother wiping off any more tears as they steadily made their way down her face; she pointed at the noose. "But that's not fine! And I don't know if I can talk him off the roof again!"

Lancer sprung out of his seat.

"He's on the roof?!" he cried.

"No, I managed to get him down earlier and he said he wasn't going to jump but I'm really scared that he'll go up there again and this time nothing I say will get him down alive," she choked. "I can't give him the kind of help he needs."

Lancer's muscles slightly relaxed upon hearing that a young boy had successfully been talked out of a possible suicide attempt, but this was news to him and he was right alongside Ms. Manson with fearing for the next time Daniel tried to get on the roof again.

"Have you told his family about your concerns?" Lancer asked.

She shook her head.

"Jazz knows, she's been trying to help too. She hasn't gotten any farther than the rest of us." She sniffled again. "Um, Danny's dad is the only other one left and he doesn't know any of this. It better that he doesn't."

"Why?"

"It'll add a lot of stress for Danny and he's already too close to just giving up. I might've risked it back then but not anymore."

"You don't think his father would be willing to help?"

Lancer sat back down on his chair and exhaled. The picture was fuzzy but from what he was gathering now, Daniel was depressed most likely about the passing of his mother and his father didn't know how much this was affecting him thus proper help and support were not being provided.

"That's not…" Ms. Manson exhaled too, but for a far different reason. "He could have helped, he just…won't."

Lancer leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the desk.

"Do you know why?" he asked.

"You didn't hear this from me, but Danny's mom died in a car wreck. Danny was in the car with her, it was raining, it wasn't his fault, but… His dad blames him anyway."

Lancer looked surprised and tried to leaf through memories of any recent interactions between the boy and his father, trying to find anything out of the ordinary that might've indicated—

"I'M NOT!"

Whatever argument that had occurred that day, the unease and tension he'd felt in the Fenton house when he wanted to make sure Daniel had stayed home… This was more than likely an issue better suited for Child Services but now that Daniel's mental state had deteriorated to the point of being seconds away from a puddle on the ground, Lancer didn't think it was at all in the boy's best interest to drag him away from the last amount of stability and familiarity he had. Social workers wouldn't deem this situation ideal for children and he could see them trying to take Daniel away from his sister, who could also be taken, and his father and shipped off elsewhere. He was still just a child, he was too mentally fragile to handle that maturely—even adults didn't respond positively to that kind of change. It could be the final straw that would push him over the edge, quite possibly literally.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ms. Manson," Lancer said. "I'll do what I can."

"Please don't tell his dad yet," she said.

"I'll do what I can," Lancer repeated.

His student nodded and stood up, now frantically wiping away her tears before she was seen in such an emotional state. She never did like to be seen this way and although he had no real proof or statement from her about it, he was certain that she didn't like to let people know she cared about anything beyond her grades and maybe, to some extent, her fashion style. This must've taken a lot of courage for her to do and even more courage to tell him what she told him about her best friend.

So much for trivial matters of the young.

Ms. Manson walked out of the classroom when she felt that her face was dry enough, leaving Lancer to mull over what to do with Daniel before the boy tried something he wouldn't even have the chance to regret. Lancer could stand by and observe plenty of things, offering his ears and time as the best and sometimes only assistance, but standing on the sidelines hoping Daniel would talk to him and change his mind, or that the boy's problems would simply resolve themselves, wasn't working and things were only getting worse as a result.

It was time to take action but…even now, even after hearing all that from Ms. Manson, he genuinely had no idea what to do. Sure, he could try to talk to Daniel, but he was no better an influence than his sister or friends. He wasn't necessarily a stranger but he was just the teacher. He wasn't a therapist. He wasn't a father. He didn't even have a pet. All he knew how to do was teach, listen, and report—none of which would help the boy.

He sighed heavily and collected his belongings. As he was driving home he continued to think of ways he could help Daniel that didn't involve any social workers potentially tearing Daniel away from a predictable environment in a very unpredictable world.

One thought was to bring Daniel to his house. It wasn't familiar to Daniel but he was familiar. Perhaps that would be enough. He already knew the boy's secrets. What else could a child possibly have to hide at this point? He could have a private discussion about the bullet Ms. Manson had talked him into dodging but what if that made the boy nervous and actually encouraged an attempt? That would be an elephant for him but maybe Daniel wouldn't have to sense the tension.

Who was he kidding.

Children were very perceptive.

He pulled into his driveway and stepped out of his car, jacket draping across one arm and his leather bag slung over his shoulder. He used his knee to bump the car door shut and double-clicked a button on his key fob that locked it. He took a moment to observe his small house. It wasn't much but it was perfect for one person living off a teacher's salary; small front yard, equal dimensions in the back yard, random patches of brown grass splashed across both yards (it looked ten times better in spring and summer), and a single pinwheel next to a line of low-reaching shrubs to show the world he could be fun too. Plus it added more diversity than the medium-sized tree on his property.

He went inside and briefly wondered where he could even keep Daniel if he brought him here. He had a spare bedroom right across from his, but it was a tad small and although the real estate agent had said it was a bedroom, Lancer was positive that it was just a converted office area. Either way, the room had never been used by anyone except an old friend of his that he could only visit at a cemetery now. But that had been so many years ago and Daniel wasn't drinking himself to death.

What size was Daniel's room? What kind of bed did he have? Did he have pictures of rockets and the NASA logo hanging somewhere on his wall? Would he appreciate glow-in-the-dark stickers shaped like stars, planets, and constellations? What would make him feel most comfortable in such a small room as this one?

Not that Daniel was going to live here or anything, but at least for the time being…maybe…?

No. No, that was ridiculous. He wasn't fit to care for a child, especially not one so depressed. He hadn't even been able to help his best friend live a real life, unlike Ms. Manson who had talked hers out of a suicide attempt. What if Daniel ever tried that again and she was t around to stop it? What if all the talking and helping was left up to Lancer? He wouldn't be able to rise to that occasion.

Lancer hung up his coat on the hook nailed to the inside of the front door and turned the lights on. They were dim, nothing close to the brightness of the florescent school lights or even rivaling Daniel's normal house lights (the inside ones, not the obnoxious neon sign outside). But at least they didn't flicker and buzz like the ones in movies.

He frowned. It was one thing to entertain the idea of allowing Daniel to stay with him until he could at least get past this suicidal phase, but…this house was no place for a child.

Lancer looked over to his kitchen. Even the kitchen paled in comparison to most other houses. It had all the essentials one would find in any typical American residence, like a microwave, stove, and refrigerator, but the refrigerator was smaller. The freezer was due to have the buildup of ice scraped out of it—actually that had been long overdue and Lancer just never got around to it. The stove was electric and one of the spots on it no longer heated up. It was never very problematic in the past so Lancer had never bothered paying someone to fix it or even look at it.

And what about the living room? It was practically connected to the kitchen. There was no dining room; Lancer only used the small mahogany coffee table when he ate his dinner. There were no chairs, just one brown couch in front of said coffee table. Even his television was smaller than his students' and wasn't hanging on a wall. The only other piece of furniture in the living room was a lamp located beside the couch.

The spare bedroom had a bed, a desk, a nightstand with a small lamp, and an empty bookcase; all in desperate need of a good dusting and possibly a light bulb change for the old, unused lamp.

Unfit for children. All of it.

Still…it wasn't like children actually needed much, right? They wanted things but their needs were generally in low quantity. His little home may not have been suitable to children but it did provide the essentials.

He tried to shake the thought of Daniel out of his head, physically shaking his head as though to tell his brain he was done thinking about the boy, and loosened his tie after a long and stressful, worrying day of work.

At the start of the day, he'd planned to work, go home, and have leftover spaghetti for dinner. After envisioning Daniel on a rooftop, ready to jump and end everything, he didn't have any appetite left. In fact he was rather sickened by his conversation with Ms. Manson. It was bad enough that the boy lost his mother, it was bad enough that he was losing the will to live even with the support of his closest friends and sister, but there was no justifiable reason for Jack Fenton to blame his own son for his wife's death and even less reason to put the burden of cheering Daniel up on Jasmine, who may not have even had the opportunity to mourn. Even if their father wasn't explicit about who he viewed at fault for the accident, there was no doubt that Daniel was picking up on it.

Maybe Lancer was picking up on it too. The unease at the Fenton house could've been the tension within the family. It wasn't his place to get involved in a student's family affairs and he rarely had to go beyond a simple parent-teacher meeting, so perhaps he didn't even recognize what he was feeling at the time. Now it seemed painfully obvious.

He decided to relax on his couch and watch a TV show he would normally enjoy, but nothing seemed to interest him in the aftermath of today's goings-ons. He tried for some time longer just to take his mind off of work, off of Daniel, off of his earlier conversation with Ms. Manson…but the entire afternoon had just been so unsettling that he finally decided it was a better option to try to sleep. Tomorrow morning he could work on figuring out what to do with Daniel.

A/N

Been a while, aaaaand I have zero excuses for the wait but I really do hate that it's been so long. Kill me later though! I have a story to finish first. :P