There were fingers caressing my face. They were cold. They weren't Fenton cold; they were much worse than that. The fingers had only been touching me briefly, but I still felt the cold seep into my skin. The more alert I became, prompted by the return of the fingers, the more the pain returned to me. Involuntarily, I let out a moan as the pain flooded back to me; blossoming from my injury to engulf my entire body.

The cold fingers slowly made their way down to my hand. My own fingers were uncurled and two small things were pressed into it.

"Tylenol," a voice whispered; Maheen, the ghost girl. "It was all I could bring."

A crinkle of plastic could be heard near my head.

"Water," Maheen clarified. "I must go now, I'm so sorry. I'll try to bring more later. Maybe food, if I can steal it."

I tried to say something, but it just came out as a groan.

There was a woosh of air and the temperature rose considerably, telling me that she had vanished. I moved so that the back of my head was resting against the floor instead of my ear. The simple action made me dizzy and nauseous; so much so that I didn't even dare to open my eyes or move any further. I tried not to breathe. I didn't want to trigger anymore pain in myself. And though I desperately wanted the Tylenol and any relief it would bring, I couldn't make myself move my hand.

"Sam?" Fenton whispered. "Do you need help taking the pills?"

"Yes," I managed.

I heard the rattling of chains as he approached me. He plucked the pills out of my hand.

"Are you going to be able to swallow the water?" He asked.

"Pour … slow …"

"All right. One pill at a time or both?"

"…One."

"Okay."

I felt his hand near my mouth. I parted my lips slightly and then I felt the pill hit my tongue. I heard the water bottle being opened and then it was placed against my lips. I took a sip, just enough to swallow the pill easily and then I closed my lips. A small dribble of water ran from the corner of my mouth to under my ear. Immediately, the water bottle was taken away and there was soft fabric against my cheek, clearing away the water.

The process was repeated.

"Hopefully that will make you feel better," Fenton said.

I couldn't help but agree, wholeheartedly.

I lay there for long minutes, trying not to think of the pain pulsing in my side. It was, though, all that I could think about. I knew that by focusing on it, it made it feel that much worse.

"Fenton?" I croaked.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Distract me, please," I requested.

"Sure," he agreed swiftly. "Any requests?"

"Just no singing," I told him.

His voice hurt. Lying here, with my eyes closed, particularly where he was caring for me, it was easy to be taken back to the late nights in my bedroom. It was easy for me to remember what it was like when he was Phantom - only Phantom - and we were in love. To hear him sing, to remember the beautiful song he'd once murmured so lovingly in my ear, it would likely kill me.

"Fair enough," Fenton chuckled. "I'm going to tell you the ecto-weenie story, because, in hindsight, it really is kind of funny. So, unfortunately, this happened a couple of times but the first time, something like this happened, it was with hot dogs. J –"

Danny halted abruptly. I heard him suck in a breath and I wanted to reach out and comfort him. At the very least, I wanted to say something but I couldn't make my body respond.

"Jazz and I were only kids," Fenton continued. "I was about seven so she would have been about nine. My parents were never the greatest cooks in the world – let's make that clear right now – but Jazz and I hated it when Dad cooked the most. He and Mom had been working on something down in the lab and supper ran kind of late, which wasn't unusual. Mom was in the middle of something so she sent Dad up. He decided to make hot dogs, which are kind of hard to fuck up, no matter how you decide to cook them. So, Jazz and I are sitting there at the kitchen table and Dad pops them in the microwave. He told us that he was going downstairs to check on Mom and to yell when the microwave beeped.

"He goes downstairs and Jazz and I continue with whatever it was we were doing. The microwave starts making noise but it isn't a beep. Smoke is pouring from the cracks in the microwave door and it looks like there's a lightning storm going on inside of it. Jazz screams but either she wasn't heard – which is kind of impossible, 'cause Jazz is fucking loud – or Mom and Dad were super slow at getting upstairs. Anyway, so Jazz screams, I freak out even more because if my big sister can't handle it, well then, shit's going to hell in a hand basket."

I chuckle at the expression. I slowly crack my eyes open, taking in my surroundings. I had been moved from my original position. Now, I was close to Fenton, inside of the area that length his chain would let him reach. With a bit of reflection, I realized this was why he had been able to tend to me, give me the painkillers that were making the searing pain more bearable.

"The microwave door flies open, okay? Jazz screams again and this time we hear Mom and Dad reacting. They're not quick enough, though. Out of the microwave, comes the hot dogs. They're glowing green, with evil little green eyes, and they've got tiny little limbs and sharp teeth. What are two kids going to do with hot dogs that fucking look like that?"

"No idea," I replied, my voice stronger than I thought it was going to be.

"The answer," Fenton informed me, "would be to sit at the kitchen table and scream."

I cracked a smile.

"Until one of these little monstrosities latched onto Jazz's leg. All of its teeth dug into her skin and, no matter what she did to shake it off, it refused to let go. So, being the heroic little brother that I am, I jump up on the table 'cause the mutant hot dogs are on the floor, and grab the hot dog. Mom and Dad come flying into the kitchen just as I pull the thing from her. Blood starts going everywhere. I start screeching because Jazz is bleeding and I know it's my fault. Mom starts blasting the hot dogs – like, literally with the Fenton Blaster, though it was just a prototype back then – Dad grabs Jazz and sits her on the counter to wrap up her leg. The hot dog I'm holding grabs onto my wrist. I squish the little fucker against the wall and it exploded. So, I'm sitting there, bleeding and crying with hot dog guts everywhere, Jazz sitting on the counter doing the same thing." Fenton chuckled. "She and I have matching scars from the hot dog bites. She always says it's better than matching tattoos."

I could see the moment he realized that he'd used present tense for Jazz. Immediately, I distracted him with: "Show me the scar, or it didn't happen."

He nodded, drawing himself out of his thoughts. I watched as he undid the button on the left cuff of his dress shirt and displayed the faded, round scar.

"It's the size of a dime!" I scoffed.

"I was seven!" Danny defended himself, though he let out a shaky laugh.

I let out a giggle, because it felt good to laugh in this dismal place, even if the laugh jarred my wound.

"Are you feeling better?" Fenton asked. "Even a little bit?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Just a bit."

"Good. I'd hate to have anything happen to you."

His eyes softened and the look snapped me from the easy moment of familiarity that we had been sharing. This was Fenton. This was the person who had shattered me far more than any wound could. I had been there when he had needed me; I had done what any decent human being would do when I comforted him but I could go no further. Laughing with him, listening to his voice for so long, and seeing him look at me the way he just did … Well, it hurt far too much. This was why I had tried to distance myself from him. It was not because of my hatred of him that could become so overwhelming at times, as I knew that hate would fade with time. It was because of the pain he had caused me. It was because of the hurt that ran bone-deep within me and that would haunt me for a long time coming. He had hurt me far too deeply for me to ever fully recover

And that was exactly why we could not share any nice moments. This was exactly why I had kept my distance. I would hurt forever and I needed to protect myself. I had tried opening up to Gregor, thinking that it was time to try falling for someone new, and it hadn't worked out. When it came to relationships, Fenton had altered my view completely, and not in a positive way. I needed to keep myself safe and that meant keeping my distance. He didn't matter to me anymore.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

(-.-)

I had rolled onto my non-injured side hours ago, turning my back to Fenton. He had probably had assumed I was sleeping and left me alone. Now, though, I was stirred from my position by the appearance of Maheen. She materialized inside the cell, causing me to tense in shock. I would never get used to a person popping out of thin air right in front of my very eyes. In her hands there was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen: food.

"I'm expected elsewhere," she said quickly, and I idly wondered what her existence in this place was like, and what was expected of her. "I brought all that I could."

There was an applein there. I was salivating just looking at the fruit.

"Sam," she called, turning her eyes on me. She placed a pill bottle down by the water bottle she had left earlier. "They're expired, so he won't miss them. You just have to make sure you hide them."

"Thank you," I whispered to her. "Thank you so much."

She smiled and placed the paper plate of food on the floor between Fenton and me. As she disappeared, I rolled onto my back and then attempted to prop myself up against the wall. My side began to scream in agony.

Immediately, Fenton was at my side. His chained hands reached out and were on me before I could say anything. I didn't even have time to react to his touch before he had propped me up in a slightly comfortable position. He let go of me as soon as he was certain I wouldn't fall over.

"Touching without permission is not okay," I told him, feeling as though I were talking to a young child who had to be taught these things, rather than a grown man who knew that I didn't want his hands on me.

"I'm sorry," Fenton shrugged. "I was trying to make things easier on you."

"Well, it didn't."

He sighed and repeated, "I'm really sorry, Sam."

I didn't have anything to reply with.

"Let's eat," he proposed.

It was probably the best thing that he had ever said to me.

On the plate there was one apple, two long carrots, a slice of bread, and two lunchmeat slices of ham. Fenton immediately tossed the apple into the folds of my skirt.

"I saw you eyeing it," he said, answering my unasked question.

Gratefully, I bit through the tart flesh of the apple and into the sweet inside.

Best damn apple ever.

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.

~TLL~