Here we are, another chapter, though probably not the one anyone wants to read, since I wanted to put in a little chapter about my two favouritest boys, Jim and Danny, since it is my firm belief that they deserve their own fan club. And the fact that they are my OCs doesn't mean I am biased in anyway. At all. Nu-uh. Nope.
So anyway, the little chapter about my boys got bigger and bigger and took a fortnight to draft and type (well, I WAS doing actual uni work as well) and resulted in pages and pages of OCness, and became almost its own story. Oops.
Like OMG, 3 weeks and nearly 10,000 words later, here it is! And what is with that FUGLY green review button?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything affiliated with DGM, nearly forgot that.
Chapter thirteen- The OC chapter of Doom- Danny
It was so rare that William Harvey got any time off work that three whole days at the coast as a family was a small miracle.
Danny dug his fingers into the sand with all the cheerful abandon of a six year old, throwing it over his shoulders in a golden shower that rained down on his older brother. Jim looked up from his sand fortress and scowled at the little boy. "Danny!" he whined, "You're spoiling my castle!"
The smaller boy was supremely unworried by this. He cocked his head to one side and studied the complex system of walls and turrets with a critical eye. "It looks better that way" he said, indicating the now rough uneven texture of the previously smooth sides of the structure. "It looks more real now."
Jim just ignored him and went back to meticulously smoothing the sandy sides of the castle as though his sibling had never spoken.
"Boys, don't fight" their mother's voice scolded gently from beneath her parasol. "Your father should be back soon"
Danny hummed happily and continued to bury his small fat baby fingers in the sand, engaged in a game of his own making.
"There he is" Jim pointed to a tall figure striding along the sand. He immediately leapt to his feet, abandoning his sandcastle and tearing across the beach, closely followed by Danny whose chubby legs struggled to keep up with his eight year old brother's longer stride. Their father stopped and crouched down, waiting for his sons to reach him. Jim skidded to a stop in front of his father, waiting for Danny to catch up. They both blinked up at William with identical deep liquid brown eyes. He ruffled the heads of sun-kissed blond and light brown hair and stood, holding out his hands for the boys to hang on to.
"Well?" Jim demanded, tugging his father's right hand while Danny swung his left back and forth cheerfully. "Did you get one?"
William chuckled indulgently. "I sure did. Let's go and get your mother- the open sea awaits!"
Before his sons were born, William had been an avid yachtsman, but soon after his marriage his job began to interfere with his hobby and as soon as Jim was born ten months later he'd had no spare time at all to indulge in his love of sailing. When Danny was born two years after that…well, it was the final nail in the coffin.
So now the opportunity to show his sons what they had missing had presented itself in the form of three days vacation time and a colourful sign proclaiming luxury sailing boats for hire situated on a jetty, he wasn't going to let it pass him by.
"Make sure you've got your life vests fastened!" he called cheerily to the boys who were leaning over the bow of the yacht and peering into the water excitedly. His wife was stretched out beside him, absorbing the sunlight, eyes closed against the glare and by all appearances she was sleeping, despite the ft that they had only been on the water for fifteen minutes.
"Jimmy! Jimmy, look! A jellyfish!" Danny jiggled up and down in excitement, pointing at the water with a podgy finger. "How cool!"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Jellyfish, yeah, woo."
The wind caught the sails, filling the white material and William cheered happily. "What do you say to a spot of proper sea fishing?" he asked his sons. Jim perked up a little at the suggestion but his brother worried his bottom lip indecisively. "Fishing? But doesn't that hurt the fish's mouths?"
Jim sighed expressively while their father chucked. "I don't think so son, and we'll throw them back afterwards."
Danny was obviously confused. "So, what's the point?"
"There isn't one honey. Fishing is just an excuse to sit around drinking beer and staring at water" their mother told him, sitting up and shading her eyes against the sun's glare.
"Ah yes, and sunbathing is so much more productive" William said jovially, giving his wife a wink. She just tutted and lay back down.
"Well lets make the most of the weather while we can, I heard there might be a storm on the way" William said, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. "Time to show you what one man and a rod can do!"
Eileen Harvey studied the sky worriedly. "Boys, have you got your life vests on properly?"
The brothers glanced up from where they were chasing a crab across the deck. "Yes mother."
William stood beside his wife. "Don't worry, we'll be back before the storm hits." He rubbed her shoulders before turning back to the sails. She didn't look too reassured, though the boys didn't look at all bothered by the brooding clouds as they prodded the crab over the side of the boat. They watched as it floated out of sight into the depths of the increasingly choppy water.
"It's getting dark" Danny whispered after a few minutes. "Is it supposed to be this dark?"
"Idiot, it's the storm clouds" hissed Jim scathingly, hitting his brother across the back of the head, unfortunately attracting their mother's attention. "James!" she snapped and he flinched visibly. "Both of you down below now, and behave."
Sulking slightly Jim got to his feet and stomped down the few steps, Danny scuttling along behind him. "Why don't you ever get into trouble?" the older boy grumbled bitterly. "She only ever shouts at me."
Danny blinked innocently. "I'm not the one who smacked my brother, am I?" he asked smartly.
Jim crossed his arms with a huff of annoyance.
"Stay together and sit still!" Eileen's shrill voice called through the open doorway.
"Yes mother" the brothers chorused back obediently, and for a while they did as they were told. It was only a short while however, since sitting still wasn't very interesting and it wasn't long before they began to fidget in boredom.
"It sounds really stormy out there" mumbled Jim as the boat lurched sickeningly. Danny nodded in agreement and shuffled a little closer to his brother, shaking fingers clutching Jim's sleeve for reassurance. Jim turned at the touch and studied the small round face, which was tinged a rather healthy green. Seasick, how absolutely wonderful. He rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around the smaller shoulders and giving them a squeeze. "Why don't we play a game?"
"Mother said to sit still" the younger said piously, frowning in an accusing manner at his brother.
"You need something to take your mind off the rocking before you throw up" Jim countered.
Danny nodded reluctantly; he did feel a bit queasy. "Alright." He jumped up, swaying slightly as the floor rolled beneath his feet. "Let's play hide and seek! You're it!" and with that he scampered away before Jim could do more than blink at the sudden change in attitude.
Where could the little bugger be? Jim scowled, his arms folded across his chest in frustration. The boat wasn't even that big- how many places could one little boy hide in?
The boat lurched suddenly, throwing him against the side of the small coffee table where he lay stunned for a moment or two, blinking away the stars that flashed before his eyes. The floor below him was constantly moving and he struggled to find his feet as it dropped away as the whole boat tipped violently.
"James! Daniel! Where are you?" his mother's voice sounded desperately frightened as she realised the boys had not stayed where she had instructed. He tried to call out, but terror made his voice congeal in his throat, his tongue thick and immobile.
"Will, I can't find they boys!" Her voice was almost lost in the roar of the wind and the surge of the ocean as wave upon wave battered the boat, spray pouring through the open door and coating everything below deck in salty water.
Jim spluttered as the foamy water struck his face, fighting his way towards the door. He stopped when he heard his little brother's terrified inarticulate shout, his own tongue becoming unstuck as he answered with a wordless cry of his own.
"James? James, is that you?" his mother called frantically, her face thrown into sharp relief as lightning spilt the sky above them.
"I can't find Danny!" he cried, tears beginning to track down his face, mixing with the heavy droplets of sea water that already hung there. She tugged on his life vest, checking the fastenings with fierce concentration. Then she thrust a life ring into his hands. "Do not let this go!" she said firmly, looking into his eyes as she did so, her warm brown eyes raking his features, drinking him in. "I'm going to get your brother, wait here!" and she as gone, dashing down the steps and disappearing below deck. Jim was left standing on the sea-splattered deck where his father was fighting the squall, pulling down the sails and dodging the snapping lines. He clung, terrified, to the life preserver, his mind trying to grasp some sense out of the situation, but all he could wonder about was the soft goodbye he had seen on his mother's face.
A sharp cry of alarm made him start and he turned to where his father had been standing. There was nothing to suggest that William Harvey had been on board the listing vessel at all, except a blood splattered tethering line that snapped with the force of a whip in the gale. Jim stood dumbfounded, frozen in horror, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were telling him. He crouched down, one arm grasping the ring his mother had given him, the other arm hooked around the metal rail on the side of the cabin. There was still no sign of his mother or brother, and it was impossible to see what had become of his father, though he wasn't sure he wanted to after seeing the crimson staining on the rope. Jim shivered as another wave crashed into the boat and it tipped dangerously.
Suddenly Danny was there, thrust into his arms by their mother. Jim closed his eyes briefly, thanking God that his brother was alright, though his head seemed to be bleeding quite a bit. Eileen shouted something at him but it was lost in the tempest. He shook his head to indicate he hadn't heard and realised belatedly that his mother wasn't wearing a life vest. He was about to point this out when his world tilted violently, turning black and dark and suffocating, cold and silent.
It was several moments later that he realised he was underwater and the whole boat had turned over, hanging, suspended upside down in the churning water.
His hands were empty, he was holding onto neither his brother nor the floatation device. He kicked desperately to the surface, fighting the surging water, sure he was going to drown before he could reach breathable air and he broke the surface with a hoarse gasping sound, swallowing seawater as a wave crashed over his head. The ring bobbed beside him and he grabbed hold of it gratefully, completely exhausted. It was dark and he was alone- his mother and brother were gone.
Danny crouched in the cupboard, the door pulled to, certain that his brother would never find him in this tiny cubby-hole in the galley kitchen. As if to prove him right, Jim wandered into the narrow room, eyes flicking to and fro as he did so. He seemed to eye the cupboard doors thoughtfully before ducking to look under the small wooden topped table. "Danny?" The smaller boy stifled a giggle as his brother passed his hiding place, apparently oblivious to the fact he was there. "Danny, mother wants us, you better come out now."
Danny rolled his eyes. He was six, not stupid. Grinning like a loon despite the sickening rocking of the boat around him, he congratulated himself on a hiding place well found. There was no way he was going to fall for Jim's tricks either- the fact that he was using the old 'mother wants you' line showed how frustrated he was becoming- a sure sign that Danny had indeed found the best hiding place going. He'd have patted himself on the back if he had the room.
Eventually Jim left again, grumbling something about stupid little brothers, but Danny didn't move just yet, Jim had done things like this before- pretending to leave so Danny would come out of hiding. The boat gave a sudden lurch and the cupboard door clicked shut, trapping the boy in the cramped darkness. Immediately he began to panic- the door wouldn't open and he couldn't hear anything on the other side of it. The boat rolled again, though in the narrow space he hardly moved. When the floor settled beneath him again he pounded his fists against the door, trying with all his might to force it open. It flung open under the combination of his weight and a lurch of the vessel that wrenched it the rest of the way. Danny tumbled out, sprawling across the floor on his front with a loud cry of surprise. He vaguely heard Jim call out, but couldn't make out any words. He struggled to stand, trying to avoid kitchen utensils that tumbled around him, not managing to avoid a heavy pan that fell from a high shelf and dealt him a glancing blow to the temple. He sat down heavily, blood trickling down the side of his face and the world spun sickeningly around him, foiling all of his attempts to get back to his feet.
Suddenly his mother was there, gentle, though hurried, fingers probing the cut to his forehead before she gathered him into her arms. The sound of the storm was now so loud that if Eileen had spoken to him he wouldn't have heard a word. The sound only increased when they reached the open doorway, rain lashing their faces and bodies buffeted by the raging winds.
She thrust him into his brother's arms. Jim was clinging to the rail, his face white and scared in the light that scored the sky overhead. Danny couldn't see his father anywhere, and just barely caught his mother questioning Jim about their father's whereabouts, but his brother was obviously deafened by the storm- he just shook his head in confusion and then everything went quite and dark and cold.
He fought to gain the surface, but even with his life vest aiding him, he struggled against the water, his weary limbs stiffening with the effort. Eventually his strength gave out and the darkness closed in.
Danny opened his eyes very slowly. He was surprised that he was able to open them at all- the last thing he remembered was the depths closing over him. His face was crusted with dry salt water, his lips feeling chapped and cracked. He stared at his hand, the only thing he could see, trying to work out what had happened to him after he had passed out. He noticed the faint rocking motion of his body and frowned in confusion. Rolling his eyes around he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
He was lying on a narrow bunk positioned against a wood panelled wall. A rough blanket was pulled up to his shoulders as he lay on his front and the air was permeated with the smell of vegetable broth and the unmistakeable scent of fish. The gentle rocking motion suggested he was on a boat. Had it all been a dream?
He rolled over and sat up, perhaps a little too quickly as his head swam and stomach twisted unpleasantly and he vomited violently over the edge of the bed.
The sound of retching brought running feet into the room and a cool hand lay across his forehead and he groaned on appreciation, falling back onto the bed when the hand pushed him gently. Is eyes were fuzzy and he had trouble focussing on anything.
"Hush little one, it's going to be alright" the voice that accompanied the hand soothed, brushing the matted brown hair away from his face. He squinted up to try and identify the face- he didn't recognise the voice but then again he didn't really recognise anything at the moment- his head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. "Who are-?" He stopped and frowned, having trouble forming sentences. "Where-?" he tried again.
"Don't think of anything now little one, you're very ill, you need to sleep."
Too tired to argue he nodded slowly so as to not rattle his pounding head and allowed his eyes to close, letting sleep claim him once again.
It was dark when he awoke the next time. The blanket was pulled up to his chin and a damp flannel rested on his forehead, which had obviously been there a while as it was warm. His stomach still twisted unpleasantly, but he no longer felt the urge to be sick. He wondered if he should get up, but realised since he didn't know where he was it probably wasn't a good idea to wander around.
He sat up drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. Now he was able to think better he began to remember the accident and started to wonder what had happened to his family. Suddenly the tears started and he wasn't able to stop. Fat tears rolled down his face and thick sobs caught in his throat, fighting to get into the open air, finally succeeding and resulting in a high distressed scream that tore from his mouth and reverberated around the wooden cabin. Almost immediately the door swung open and someone hurried to the bedside, sitting on the edge and wrapping their arms around his small shaking form.
After a while his sobs decreased and he allowed the gentle rocking of the body next to him to comfort him. Eventually he leaned back, blinking tears from his swollen puffy eyes.
"Who are you? Where am I? Where's my mother?" he asked urgently, looking up into the face of the person holding him.
The man's mouth twisted sympathetically and he pulled the little boy closer. "I'm sorry little one; you were the only one we found.
Danny just blinked up at him confusedly. The man sighed. "My name is Seb; I'm part of the crew on this fishing boat. We found you and-" here he paused, looking at the young boy, wondering what he should tell him. "We found you floating on a board and pulled you onto the ship."
Danny bowed his head; Seb's gnarled hand rubbing his arm comfortingly. "Ad where's my family?" he asked, his voice wobbling dangerously.
Seb squeezed his shoulders bracingly. "You were the only one we found…alive."
The little boy started to cry again as the words sank in.
"Would you like to see your parents?" the old fisherman asked gently and Danny nodded, getting to his feet and following the hulking figure out of the room and along a corridor, into a small cabin off to the left.
The bodies were covered head to toe in a blanket, completely shrouded from view.
Seb knelt beside them and pulled the blankets back, exposing the pale, sallow faces of his parents. He'd once heard that death was like being asleep, but neither Eileen nor William looked asleep, they didn't look at peace; they looked cold and grey and lifeless and dead. He hid his face in his trembling hands, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no, no" he backed away until he was against the wall, still repeating the word and shaking his head again and again and again.
Seb quickly covered the faces again and hurried to the boy's side crouching down beside him. "Hey now, shhh." Danny shook his head more violently and threw himself at the old fisherman. "Come on son, let's get you something to eat, you must be starving."
"Danny."
"What's that?"
"My name is Danny. Daniel Jonathon Harvey."
Seb nodded in understanding. "Well, Daniel Jonathon Harvey, I am Sebastian Harold Cooke." He held out his hand and Danny shook it solemnly. The he looked back at the two bodies, struck by a sudden thought. "Seb, where's my brother?"
Jim groaned loudly. At least he thought it was loudly- he felt oddly deaf himself, as though his ears were filled with water, which on reflection, he realised was probably true. He retched, coughing up ample amounts of seawater tinged with bile. How long had he been lying here? The sand beneath him had long since dried out once the tide that had deposited him on the beach had retreated, but in all that time he hadn't moved, save for the occasional bouts of coughing and heaving as his stomach and lungs sought to expel the salt water he had swallowed and inhaled, barely conscious and weary to his very soul. He was lost and alone. He knew that- he knew there was no way his family had survived- the only reason he was still alive was the life ring his mother had shoved into his hands. He wished she hadn't. He wished he was with them, wherever they are, and not alone, stranded on some beach who knew where.
So many wishes and regrets: if only he'd never suggested playing- his mother would have found them both straight away. If only he'd helped his father instead of clinging frozen to the side of the cabin, maybe he would never have been knocked overboard. And oh God, if only he'd kept hold of his brother when the boat capsized.
He cuffed ineffectually at the tears trailing down his face, holding back the sobs behind tightly clenched teeth, his shoulders shaking with the effort of restraining the desperate all encompassing sorrow that threatened to consume him. They were gone, they were all gone, and it was entirely his fault.
He vaguely wondered what would happen to him now. His mother had always said that if he got lost he should find a policeman who would keep him safe until someone came for him. But who would come? He had no other family that he knew of. He was struck by another thought. Would he be arrested? It was his fault that his family had drowned, he was certain that had he followed his mother's instructions they would have al been together, no matter what followed. So if he had caused it, did that make him a murderer? Would he be locked away? He probably deserved it, but he'd hard some disturbing and downright scary stories from Charlie, the boy who lived across the street. Charlie knew all about prison, because that's where his father was.
Jim shook his head decisively. No, he wasn't going to go to prison and become someone's girlfriend, which meant going to the police was out of the question. That meant that he'd have to live on the streets. He wasn't entirely sure that was preferable to prison, but his mind provided a visual of something Charlie had told him (with all the conviction of a ten year old that believed everything he heard was the gospel truth) happened if you dropped your soap in the shower. He shuddered. 'It only happens to the shrimpy men' Charlie had said solemnly, before boasting that his father was a huge man and probably safe. Jim on the other hand… 'You're so short you better hope you never get locked up' the older boy had warned gravely.
Swallowing tightly, Jim got to his feet, leaving the ring that had saved his life lying on the sand and walking away, dragging his feet a little. He was tired, cold and emotionally exhausted, but there was nothing left for him here.
Seb didn't hold out much hope of Danny's brother being found- children didn't really stand a chance out here- it had been a pure fluke that they happened upon the small boy draped across what looked like a wooden table top. They had hauled him aboard and while Seb tended to the feverish child, the rest of the crew had searched the floating debris for anyone else. They had found the father first, but it was obvious he hadn't drowned- his throat was cut, a gaping ragged slash across his neck. They had seen it before- the thin line of the cables on the slender masts of the small sailing vessels- in high winds they were deadly. It was a full day later that they found the mother's body. There had been no sign of anyone else
He reassured his young charge of course- it was possible another boat had picked up his brother and they would be reunited once they reached land, only a half-day away. That small hope was the only thing that kept Danny going and the old seadog didn't have the heart to dash it with talk of scavenging seabirds that would attack anything remotely edible if it stayed still long enough. And if the boy had been bleeding- well it was like ringing a dinner bell for the sharks patrolling these waters.
It was clear almost as soon as they made port that Jim hadn't turned up- if he ha the dockyard and taverns would have been bustling with the gossip. Seb saw his charge visibly wilt with disappointment. "I'm all alone aren't I?" he whispered, his young face filling with anguish.
*Do the time skip dance*
Danny laughed at the good natured ribbing. Though he was only thirteen it seemed like the crew treated him as one of their own, which in a way he was. He had served on that rickety hunk of wood for half his life and had trouble imaging himself anywhere else. Though he never forgot them, the pain that used to overwhelm him when he thought of his family was a dull ache that struck every now and then, if he allowed it to. He hardly remembered his mother's touch, his father's voice, but for some reason he could always recall his brother's face, the way he had always made him smile, the way he would roll his eyes whenever Danny did something stupid. He wondered what it meant that that he could not remember his parents but the memory of his brother was so fresh and clear in his mind. He thought that perhaps he had never accepted that Jim was dead. He'd never seen Jim's body as he had his parents, cold and pale, frozen in death, and though Seb had told him, the crew had told him, Carella at the inn had told him, hell, he'd even told himself that there was no chance that his older brother had survived the wreck, some small part of him rebelled, a tiny voice at the back of his mind would whisper two words that would shake his conviction and give life to that small, ever-present spark of hope that he kept buried and hidden deep with himself. You did.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Seb's large gnarled hand descended onto his shoulder, shaking him roughly.
"Stop thinking boy!" he laughed jovially. "You are a fisherman, not a scholar! You always did think too much." He eyed the book sitting innocuously at the boy's side. Seb gave the brown-haired teen a look. "And you read when you should be having fun."
Danny gave the old man a bright winning smile. "I don't think I'm cut out for a life of fishing. I have to be prepared." Despite the light joking tone he used, Danny was totally serious. He might have spent the last few years living, breathing ad working the ocean, but he knew there was more out there for him- he just couldn't see himself spending the rest of his life as a fisherman.
Seb ruffled Danny's brown mop of hair, a sad expression lingering on his weather-beaten face. "Ready to fly the nest, are you?"
Danny looked up at the man who had become a second father to him, catching the sadness in his voice. "Seb…"
"I knew you'd leave eventually. You're far too smart and independent to want to stick with us old men forever."
The teen shook his head, but didn't verbally deny the observation. "I just want to see more of the world," he sighed with a small shrug. "The ocean is all I know, and I want to know more…"
The old man threw his arm over the short by's shoulders. "Don't worry about it. You're young, you're smart, you have everything to live for- you'll probably become something like a doctor- and you can't do that stuck on that floating old folk's home, can you?"
Danny sniffed, brushing his fringe from his eyes before wrapping his arms around the older man. Damn, Seb was so understanding, it just wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to be understanding! He was supposed to be angry, to shout and scream and tell him he couldn't leave, not look at him with those knowing eyes, tell him it was alright and let him go out into the world alone. The fact that Seb was allowing him to do this made it harder to go. Maybe it was reverse psychology, he'd read about that somewhere. He looked up at the old man's face, into dark hazel eyes bracketed by deep lines from staring at the horizon too long, but saw no trace of guile there.
Damn the man and his understanding. Danny sighed, shaking his head and Seb gave his a small shake before removing himself from the embrace. "I'm not going to stop you from doing what you need to do. No matter your age, you are no mere child. Promise me one thing though" he turned suddenly serious eyes on the boy. "Keep in contact. I want to hear what you are up t. You know letters will always reach me if you send them to Carella's place."
Danny nodded. "You know I will." He scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands, removing any traces of tears, checking around to make sure that none of the crew gathered at the surrounding tables had noticed his minor breakdown. Luckily it seemed like the rowdy fisherman were all too drunk to notice the few tears of their youngest crewman.
Seb chucked at the relieved expression on the teen's face. "When are you leaving? Going to say goodbye?"
"Will they forgive me if I don't?" Danny looked like he knew the answer would not be the one he wanted to hear.
"Forgive? Maybe not, but they'll understand why you didn't" Seb said, rubbing the boy's forearm soothingly. "Where will you go?"
"America, maybe Europe. I want to see the world" Danny replied, his eyes shining at the prospect.
"Well," the old man said, pulling something from a back pocket and thrusting it at the boy. "Look after yourself then son."
Danny examined the small pile of cash. "Seb, I can't take your money!" He tried to give it back, pushing the wadge of bills into Seb's wrinkled hands.
"No, this is yours, I've been putting it aside for you for years, ready for when the time came."
"But…I only started thinking about leaving a few months ago…"
"I already told you, I knew this was coming" Seb smiled, tucking the notes into the front pocket of the loose blue shirt that hung open over Danny's once-white t-shirt, before patting him on the shoulder.
"Say bye for me will you Seb?" the teen asked, standing and slinging the duffel bag over his back.
"Of course. Don't forget to write." The old man also stood, holding out a hand for the boy to shake.
"Seb…" Danny admonished, knocking the hand aside and throwing his arms around the man. He pulled back after a minute or two. "I never said it, and I should have before today…thanks Dad" he looked up in time to see the man's eyes soften. "Well, I'll see you around, I guess. I'll write as soon as I get to wherever I'm going."
"Get of with you!" Seb laughed, wiping his eyes hurriedly. "Bye son, keep safe."
Despite his short stature and youthful face it was surprisingly easy for Danny to travel alone, and he found that on the streets of America no one spared him a single glance. It was not how he expected it to be. The first year spent wandering from town to town, city to city was hard on him. He was by no mean's naïve- growing up among the crew of fishermen had not bee conducive to an innocent childhood, but he was not wise in the ways of the world- all of the life he could remember was spent in a community where everyone knew everyone else (and everyone else's business too), nothing like this sprawling, disconnected mass of civilisation.
It therefore wasn't long before he fell in with the wrong type of people, and began learning the laws of the street. The first law was easily learned- why pay for what you can steal? Of course, almost as important as the first law was the second: Don't get caught. Danny wasn't so good at leaning that particular law.
He wrote to Seb from his prison cell, though he didn't tell the old man where he was currently living. Fourteen years of age and incarcerated for theft, a harsher sentence since he refused to give up his 'friends', Danny learned his own lessons, wrote his own laws. He know knew his childhood had been too sheltered to prepare him for life on the streets, and for the first time since he left New Zealand, he regretted ever going away.
In his letters he painted a picture of an idyllic life- he was helping am elderly couple on their farm, he was running errands for the mayor of a small town. He hoped Seb believed his lies. He didn't give a return address-how could he? - So he never knew how his surrogate family was doing.
A year later, fifteen year old Daniel J. Harvey was released, and he had learned his lesson. He was never caught again.
*Join me! Time skip time!*
Life was tough. Danny was tired and hungry, starving in fact. And wet. His threadbare clothes were saturated but there was no sign of any shelter, not even a modest cardboard box he could crawl into. He sighed, jerking his thin waterlogged coat around his bony shoulders. His hair hung lank to his shoulder blades, matted bangs plastered to his forehead and turned black by the rain, dripping over his dull brown eyes.
His arm hurt. His arm hurt a lot. He regretted getting that tattoo done now, but he'd already had one done on his upper right one, so the markings on his left forearm just evened it all out. He laughed harshly to himself, wishing he'd saved some of the alcohol for after the procedure, instead of necking it all before the tattooist had even begun.
He was a wreck, and he knew it. Somewhere along the way his life had fallen apart. He was beaten, bruised, homeless and friendless. As if to remind him how pathetic he was, his left eye gave a particularly painful twinge. His last beating had resulted in a black eye and the resulting swelling was interfering with the bar he had pierced through his eyebrow. This whole thing was ridiculous. What would Seb think of him now? Here, like this, crawling through the shit-strewn alleyways of whatever city he found himself in, willing to do anything for a bit of food, some warmth, a dry place to sit.
Danny snorted. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly what Seb would think. He'd be disappointed as hell in the boy he'd raised like his own son. Just the thought that he'd let the man down made Danny cringe.
Perhaps it was time to return home. He knew Seb had to be worried about him- he'd not sent a letter since he was released from prison seven long moths ago.
Above his head a gutter burst suddenly, soaking him with a deluge of freezing rain water. Just when he thought he couldn't get any wetter. He sighed again, wrapping his arms around himself. Yes, it was time to go home.
The coast was so near now he could taste the salt on the air. It made him feel closer to home, safer, more alive. Which was ironic since the knife wound in his side was slowly leaking his lie away.
"Shit" he hissed, stumbling for the umpteenth time, finally giving up and allowing himself to slump down against a nearby wall. The darkness was close around him- he couldn't tell whether it was night or his vision was failing. If it was the latter then he was in deep shit, he couldn't see anything.
No wait, that wasn't true. Somewhere off to his left something was glowing faintly, a soft green colour. He blinked sluggishly, struggling to focus on what was casting the light. He was ashamed to be reduced to crawling along through the dirt, but there was no one around to pay attention.
Damn he felt like crap.
He hauled himself like an injured seal, his curiosity overcoming the pain and nausea that had seemed so important five minutes ago, but was now a mild inconvenience.
It was a bit anti-climatic actually. He lay on his stomach and stared at it, feeling stupid for wasting his rapidly depleting energy dragging himself all the way over here for some cup. A damn glowing useless wooden cup, of all things. He snorted wetly and almost gagged on the coppery taste that filled his mouth. Oh that was wonderful- now he was expectorating blood. He grinned to himself, a demonic image since his teeth were stained with crimson. Well, there had to be worst ways to spend his dying moments… and now it was raining…he'd gone and spoken too soon. Brilliant.
Danny flopped onto his back, allowing the rain to wash blood from his chin and closing his eyes.
He woke sometime later, rather surprised that he was able to- he expected that the last time he closed his eyes was the last. At least the rain had stopped now, though he was still soaked through and felt very cold- though whether it was as a result of lying out in the rain for so long or his impending death he wasn't sure. He couldn't pinpoint why he'd woken and wasn't too sure whether he was happy about it or not- he half expected the pain that had been his constant companion for the last few days since his latest beating to come rushing back to him, but he realised with a start that far from returning, the pain had completely gone, replaced by a feeling of gentle pulsing warmth, which, now that he thought about it, was originating from some point next to his left hand.
He stiffly turned his head- he couldn't feel the pain but the motion reminded him that the injuries were still there- towards the left. The wooden cup that had held his attention earlier was resting against his hand, lying on its side and still glowing faintly in a soothing manner. It seemed at some point it had filled with rain and tipped over- his hand was lying in a puddle and a trickle of water still pooled inside the smooth wooden surface of the small container.
Just looking at the water reminded Danny that he hadn't had anything to drink for more than a day and despite the abundance of water all around him, he was incredibly thirsty.
With a groan he forced his tired, stiff, achy body onto his side, pushing himself onto his hands and knees as his limbs trembled alarmingly beneath him.
With only a brief thought that what he was about to do was probably gross- who knew where that cup had been- he picked it up, watching the water gather at the bottom dubiously. It didn't look too dirty- he was sure he'd probably been exposed to far worse things during the last couple of years. He closed his eyes in a slight wince as he drained the trickle of rainwater from the cup, surprised that it didn't taste gritty or dirty at all. In fact it tasted better than anything he'd ever had before, and though it was only a dribble of water, it slaked his raging thirst and soothed his aching muscles.
He sat up, the motion smooth and painless. Well, that was certainly odd. He glanced at the small innocuous cup, quirking a curious eyebrow. He'd been so sure he was only minutes from death, so how was it he felt so…well?
Curiously he prodded the knife wound in his side. The area was slick with blood and as his fingers brushed the ragged skin, pain lanced up through his chest, but it didn't seem like it was bleeding anymore.
He turned the cup this way and that, a thoughtful frown on his dirt smeared face.
Was it something to do with this strange, glowing object that made his heal? He doubted it was the rain- and well, the thing was glowing…
His mind had been cleared of the fog that had been clinging to his consciousness and he was finally able to think clearly. Time to experiment. He stood, still feeling a little unsteady, gripping the plain wooden utensil tightly and staggering over to where a puddle of rain had gathered on the lid of a dustbin. Scooping some water into the cup he watched as the liquid rippled and cleared, the flecks of dirt that had been suspended in the slightly murky water dissolved into nothingness. He cautiously took a sip, feeling the same clear fresh taste coating his tongue as before as a sensation of pins and needles prickled uncomfortably at the site of his knife wound. He twisted slightly as the prickling increased, tickling up and down his side. Lifting his shirt (what was left of it) he ran his hand over his all-too-visible ribs, but there was no sign of the cut, no bruising, not scarring, nothing.
Well, this was certainly an interesting development. He drained the rest of the water, revelling as all traces of past injuries faded and his fatigue disappeared. He certainly wasn't going to let this out of his sight in a hurry. Whatever this was.
*The author dances! TIME SKIP!*
Danny chuckled a little, watching the strange man in the white robe-like clothes scurry around below him. He swung his legs like a small child, not the sixteen year old he was.
The wind ruffled his neck length hair gently, blowing the clean brown locks away from bright intelligent liquid brown eyes as he watched the white-robed man hurry after another man clothed in black who strode down the street in front of him, long black coat flapping impressively behind him.
Danny had been watching these strange people for a while- they certainly intrigued him. He'd been watching them discreetly for nearly a week, in-between keeping a general eye on the populous.
Ever since he'd found that strange glowing cup all those months ago, he'd been able to sense the suffering and pain of those around him and was inexplicably drawn to them, hoping to help them in any way he could.
He was a completely different person to the one only a short time ago. No longer was he the short, starved, snivelling street rat that had nearly died in an alleyway in some far-off American town. Now he was tall, strong, healthy, no longer a scrawny boy but a well- developed youth, and the pillar of whatever community he found himself in.
As thanks for his 'miracles', the people of wherever he had settled for the time being, the people would feed and house him, something he gratefully accepted, but he always refused any further payment.
It was purely chance that found him in this particular German town at the same time as this odd pair, and he felt oddly drawn to the stranger in the black coat. It was odd, but when he first came upon the long haired man, he sensed injuries on him, but the feeling had faded shortly afterwards. And Danny certainly didn't know what to make of the strange machine like creature the man had destroyed with the eastern-style sword he was carrying.
He watched as the black haired man pulled up short, snapping something at the white clothes man with the large box-like backpack. The other man took a half-step backwards and nodded rapidly. When the apparently irate black-coated man turned away, his companions shoulder's slumped in relief.
Danny stood, brushing off his backside as he moved to the edge of the roof, sliding casually down a drainpipe and slipping into the crowd with ease. As he drew closer to the white-robed man he noticed he'd been joined by a figure in a similar uniform, this one female. The brown haired girl, because she couldn't be more than eighteen, was patting the man sympathetically on the shoulder, though her greenish eyes were swimming with suppressed mirth.
"He's a jerk, don't worry about it" she was saying.
"You can't say something like that about an exorcist!" the man exclaimed, sounding outraged.
The girl scoffed. "I always tell the truth, and Kanda is a jerk, but don't take everything he says to heart, it's not personal, he hates everyone."
The man grumbled quietly and Danny wondered just what was going on. Exorcists? He wasn't particularly religious himself, but he'd heard of these warriors of God on his travels, these agents of the Black Order.
"He blamed me for the misinformation. It's hardly my fault that Komui got the location of the innocence wrong!" the man complained.
"Of course not" the girl agreed blandly. "He's probably just sexually frustrated. General Walker's been gone a couple of months now."
The man choked, though whether it was a laugh or a scandalized sound that he was suppressing Danny didn't know. He pretended to be studying apples on a stall as he sidled closer.
"Xanthe!" the man exclaimed and the girl laughed at the expression on his face. "Come on, let's get back. I'm tired of standing around acting as a body guard for a guy who'd sooner cut his own arm off than ask for our help." She laughed again, a slightly rough, sardonic sound, tugging on his arm and the man obligingly let himself be dragged away.
Well, thought Danny, throwing an apple into the air and catching it casually. That was interesting.
Two days later there was no sign of the strange threesome- it seemed that they'd moved on, but it didn't stop him from thinking about what he'd heard. His interest was piqued, and he was determined to learn more.
He cursed the heat- the damn humidity was making him very uncomfortable, plastering his hair to his forehead and neck and coating his skin in a fine layer of sweat. He also cursed his damn curious nature. He'd only been in India for a fortnight when the first white robed figures had appeared which in itself wasn't so strange- now he was paying attention he noticed that these people (called finders apparently, how original) popped up all over the place. What was odd was the fact that they seemed to be looking for him.
He watched, slightly amused, from his perch on the edge of the town fountain as the finders bustled around, trying to get the locals to tell them something about him. Predictably the locals were being very tight lipped about everything, not wanting to give up their so-called miracle worker, who despite only being in their village a little over a week, had been fully adopted into the community.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" snapped the little old Indian woman with an obviously fiery temper as she flapped her hands at the finders dismissively. Danny could see the not-very-happy expression on the finder's face and had to stifle a giggle as the little woman proceeded to whack the unfortunate man with her broom when he didn't leave fast enough to please her. As amusing as this whole farce was, however, he had to wonder at their persistence. Sure, the whole magic cup thing was fairly unusual, but surely it didn't warrant this level of search…unless he had stumbled upon something really important. Fate of the world important… he had heard rumours about the Black Order and the war against the Earl, and the more he heard, the more he was sure that he wanted to stay well away from anything to do with them. Yet here they were, searching so desperately for him. It had to be something to do with the cup, after all, he was a normal boy, and had been leading a normal (if downtrodden) life before he had found it. Maybe they were the cup's true owners, and had tracked down the thief of that miraculous item…but that couldn't be right…it just couldn't. The cup was meant for him, he knew it, he felt it, it was something made for his hand, in tune with his soul. There was no way that it could be meant for someone to wield.
Which meant they wanted him for his powers, to help fight their war. The very idea repulsed him. He was by no means a selfish person, and any situation that cost the life of a fellow human was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, but he wanted to help these people, those around him now, the ones who could not afford medical care, those to whom the simple cure of a simple ailment was a true miracle. He wanted to help these people, not get tangled up in the confusing web of war.
The finder who had managed to escape the wrath of the elderly woman and her heavy broom sat next to him on the fountain, panting heavily and wiping his forehead with a slightly grubby off-white sleeve.
"Hot day, isn't it?" he muttered
Danny started, not expecting to be spoken to. He wondered if by replying he would draw too much attention to himself, but it was market day, and there were plenty of other foreigners in the town square that his presence would not cause too much of a stir. "That it is. Here." He handed over his canteen, offering it to the sweltering finder, who took a long draught gratefully before handing it back.
"Thank you my friend." He sighed, although it wasn't a happy sound by any stretch of the imagination.
"Something wrong?" the boy asked in a bland friendly tone of one who was concerned, but not over bothered if he wasn't told anything. "I've seen you scurrying around the square all day badgering locals. Are you looking for something?"
The finder clasped his hands together. "Someone, though no one knows who this someone is…heck, I don't even know if I'm looking for a man or a woman."
Well, they're certainly well-informed Danny thought wryly. Out loud he said "Sounds like you're wasting your time then. And the locals don't seem to know anything either."
"More like they won't tell me what they do know. Everyone's keeping something from me, and I'm desperate to find out what it is- but my time is up. I have to return home tomorrow to report." He ran his hand across his forehead. "Maybe they'll send some exorcists out instead" he mumbled, either unaware or unconcerned that he could still be heard.
Exorcists hmm? They must really want to find me… "Why are you looking for this person?"
The finder glanced up suddenly, as though finally aware he was talking to a complete stranger. He offered a nervous laugh. "I don't know, I'm just the messenger" he grinned, though it appeared a little stained. Danny didn't press the issue.
"Well, I must be off" he said, standing and offering the finder his hand. "I'm Danny by the way. See you around maybe."
"Ben, and thanks for the water" the finder replied, also getting to his feet.
"No problem" Danny said cheerfully, gibing the man a friendly wave before disappearing into the crowd with ease.
He spent the next couple of weeks moving around aimlessly, going from one town to the next, not staying for long, especially now that the white-robed finders had been replaced by a pair of black coated exorcists. He recognised the shorter of the two as the long-haired one he had seen in Germany yelling at the finders there. His companion was a tall, well built red-haired man who, for whatever reason, wore an eye patch. This made Danny smile, thinking back to his surrogate family, where the sight of a mouldy old eye patch was not an unfamiliar one.
No matter how quickly he moved, or how well he covered his tracks, it only seemed to take the pair of exorcists a day to realise he had skipped town and to follow on after him. He could now see why the finder thought that exorcists would get sent out to retrieve him- they were certainly good at their jobs and there was no distracting them from the job at hand.
After a month of this; just when Danny was starting to wonder if he'd have this strange pair of shadows with him for the rest of his days or until he agreed to join the Order (maybe that was their trick…maybe they already knew who and where he was and were now just wearing him down…), they vanished, only to be replaced by a second pair of black-coated men (were there no women in the Black Order? He might have considered letting them catch him had one of them been a beautiful woman…). This pair seemed younger than the first, the younger of the two couldn't have been older than twenty, and the other, though he had strange white hair was not much older than that. He didn't have to be told who this individual was, he had spent enough time doing his own reconnaissance while avoiding capture to recognise the pale and red-scarred form of one Allen Walker. His companion too looked familiar, though for the life of him Danny couldn't place the tanned, dark blonde teen.
He was doing a grand job of avoiding the exorcists, even if he did say so himself, and was just congratulating himself on a job well done when he felt the familiar draining feeling which meant someone, someone very nearby, was dying. As though the pain was his own, he felt the wound in the neck from which life was pouring, each beat of the traitorous heart spilling more of the precious fluid, each determined pulse killing the victim faster. It was not a feeling he could ignore easily, and being connected thus to someone and allowing them to die was unthinkable, so he turned abruptly on his heel and strode away towards the strange sensation.
He entered the alleyway that he felt death lingering in, ready to sweep in and claim its prize, and almost froze in shock. The white-haired exorcist was crouched, bare-chested and desperate on the ground, pressing his shirt against the neck of his partner, seeming to be in intense concentration as he attempted to staunch the flow. Danny needed to act quickly; he could feel the life beneath those hands slipping away. "I thought I felt death in this alley" he commented, keeping his voice even and level so as to not startle the exorcist. "Exorcists" he said looking at the man's abandoned coat. "I was hoping to avoid the Black Order."
"Save him, please, if you can." The exorcist general said, gesturing rather helplessly at the figure on the ground.
Danny dropped to his knees at the white haired man's side; moving the shirt away and examining the wound with sift professional movements. "Yes, I can save him, but I must be quick." He rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a small wooden cup. "Do you have any water?" he asked, without looking up, running his hands over the smooth grain of the cup and murmuring 'innocence, activate.'
"Here" he was offered a canteen that had been retrieved from the black coat that had been cast aside.
"A little young to be a general aren't you?" Danny asked to take the man's thought's off the body that lay beside him.
"I'm twenty-two" Was the slightly short reply. "I've been a general since I was seventeen, so you tell me if I'm too young."
"Hmm, Allen Walker, I thought so" Danny said blandly, though smirking internally when he noticed the surprised look on the other man's face, though nothing was said to this comment. "My cup is my innocence. It turns any water you put into it into some kind of miracle-water that can heal any injury and cure any illness" Danny explained as he eased the water down the prone teen's throat. He repeated the process twice more before refilling the cup once more and handing it to Allen. "For your hand. I normally don't use my innocence for small injuries, but hey, I'm already invocated."
Allen drank gratefully, cringing pins and needles enveloped his hand. Danny took his hand and pulled off the blood stained glove, and proceeded to examine the hand closely. "Perfect." He commented, satisfied that the injury had been reduced to nothing.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the colour come back to the previously deathly pale face of the healing youth.
After a few more minutes his eyes fluttered open and he glanced around confusedly, one hand reaching to touch his neck where the final bits of tissue and skin were still visibly knitting together. "Ah, pins and needles" he shuddered. His eyes landed on Allen. "What happened? I thought I was a goner for a minute there."
"Well, I am ashamed to say I had nothing to do with it" Allen said, patting Danny's shoulder.
Danny didn't even notice the touch, instead he was staring in shock at the now conscious teen before him. He had not seen the boy this closely before, and so it was with some surprise that he was staring into eyes exactly like his own. He kept trying to say that one word, that one name that begged to be released, but froze disbelieving in his throat. With some effort he managed to choke it out, his voice sounding strained. "Jimmy?"
The teen shook his head violently. "No, you can't be- he's dead."
"Jimmy!" That voice, that expression, how could he forget it? How could he forget his brother? "It is you! Where have you been? I thought you were dead!"
Jim swallowed, tears forming on his eyes as he forced himself to sit up, flinging his arms around the shoulders of the smaller boy and embracing him tightly. Danny!"