~*O*~
danny keeps himself wrapped in the coat and tries to breathe but his lungs won't work right.
the room is cold and his bones ache like his tummy does he hasn't eaten mommy i'm hungry but he still can't make his throat hurt. words are hard because mommy and daddy got really mad when he tried to talk and danny is scared to say anything anymore, and now they get all jumbly in his head. it's like that time when jazzy accidentally broke his speak n' spell and it said everything backwards. he misses jazzy, misses her hugs and how she shared her cookies sometimes, and he really wishes that bear aldrin and bearbert einstein were here because they'd keep him safe, keep people from yelling and. . .
the door opens and someone walks in and danny's brain screams danger.
he shakes and shakes and buries himself in the coat and he knows that they've come to take him, come to hurt him, and he's going to go back to the lab where mommy will scream at him where is my baby, my danny, tell me you liar! and all he can see is black, and he can feel the straps dig into his arms so he squeezes his knees tighter to his chest just to make sure they still listen and. . .
"Hey, punk, it's just me. Ain't nothin' here gonna hurt you."
danny knows that voice. it's the scary man, walker, who gave him the jacket. he really likes the jacket because it's warm and he can hide and the lights are making his eyes hurt danny can't see his eyes are open but he can't see so he hopes that mr. walker doesn't ask for it back. he tries to take a deep breath and stop shaking. it doesn't work, but he looks out to see anyway.
mr. walker is very very tall, and his face kind of looks like a skull and danny doesn't mean to squeak when he sees him so close, but it happens anyway and danny waits for it, waits for the yelling and the cutting and he thinks that mommy will come through the door at any minute and she's gonna take him back because he's a very bad boy and very bad boys don't deserve to have nice things happen to them. . .
"Alright, little man, we got another room for you to sit in. It's a bit quieter than this 'un. Is it ok if I pick you up?"
pick. . . pick him up?
danny remembers what it was like before the lab, but only in bits in pieces because mommy's ex-peer-a-mens make his head go fuzzy sometimes. he remembers what it was like to ride on daddy's shoulders and snuggle against mommy's chest and sometimes even jazzy would try and pick him up, but jazzy is small like him and can't always do it. but this is confusing, can't think, and danny frowns and holds the coat tighter because the coat is nice. he and the coat are buds and mr. walker can't have it back.
danny curls up and he knows that mr. walker will pick him up even if he doesn't want to be picked up, so he nods, and waits and his body shakes so hard that his teeth chatter together, which isn't good, danny knows, but he's trying. he just hopes mr. walker doesn't get mad. he doesn't like yelling because yelling is loud and it happens before the hurt and danny really doesn't like the hurt anymore and. . .
"Kiddo, you don't have to let me pick you up if you don't want me to. Y'all wanna walk instead? It ain't far."
walk? he hasn't gotten to walk in so long, doesn't know if his legs still know how to do it, but walking means no touching and no touching means no hurt so danny pulls his buddy the coat tighter and tries to stand.
except his legs shake and shake and shake and there's an ache deep in his bones, shoots all the way down to his knees, and it's almost as bad as the ache in his eyes, so when danny swallows it feels like that time tucker dared him to eat sand and it hurts. hurts hurts hurts hurts and he tries to take a step and he falls and –
"Woah!"
someone touches him.
big hands on his throat and there's a knife that mommy calls a "skal-pull" digging into his shoulder and danny wants to cry but he can't because he can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe and why is there green everywhere? daddy's gonna kill him and mommy keeps crying keeps yelling and he doesn't know why why why he's right here, mommy, I'm danny, not lying please stop stop stop stop stop it hurts please no hurts
danny tries to make the air go in his lungs and they won't listen and his body shakes and he's trying to hide, wants to get away get away get away but he can't move, too scared, so he pulls the coat around him and waits for the hurt and the green and the yelling.
except it doesn't happen. the hands stay on his ribs and they're very very big but they don't hurt, just hold, and then they set him back on the floor, and danny tries to breathe, tries to suck in some air, but his body just keeps shaking and he thinks he's trying to cry but it doesn't feel right even though there's something sticky running down his cheeks. so instead he just rocks in the coat and tries to think about happy things.
jazzy and bearbert einstein and stars and astronauts and chocolate chunk cookies.
blankies and milk and cartoons and playing in the park with tucker and playing space-man and –
he'd just wanted to play with the big-boy guns and he knew that good boys didn't play in the lab but they were right there and he knows how to put on his suit, even though daddy's face fell off, so he does and he looks for the big 'zooka that mommy likes so much so he can kill the aliens, except there's a big hole in the wall and he doesn't know what it does and he sees a button, pretty red and he presses it and everything goes white and hurts hurts hurts mommy where are you?
"Easy, punk. I gotcha. You're ok. We're gonna go someplace quiet, 'kay? Ain't no one gonna hurt you here."
mr. walker picks him up again but it doesn't hurt except for in his heart so danny doesn't try to fight, just holds tight to his new best friend, and hides in the dark with the spicy smell and tries to figure out why it feels like his chest is full of honey, why he can't feel his heart beating, why his bones hurt, why why why?
and then the next thing danny knows he's in another room and it's quiet, so he rocks back and forth and tries to make his lungs work again. they don't but he's trying. he wishes jazzy was here, wishes his sissy was here to give him kisses and make him better, and he wonders if jazzy thinks he's a bad boy too because if she does, it'll be the saddest thing ever. there's more sticky stuff on his cheeks and he's so cold but it's a different kind of cold than what he's used to, like a big ball of ice in his tummy, and danny doesn't know what to do. why is he here? where is here? more needles? more skaal-pull's? more yelling? doesn't know, can't think, can't breathe, there's a big cut on his chest and it itches and there's more on his ribs and they hurt and oh, no, he's shaking again, a funny buzzing in his tummy next to the big ice-ball.
the door opens and danny gasps and hides as best he can, tries to push through the wall.
except he can't because it's a wall and he's small and everything hurts and is this the end? is this where it all comes back? the yelling yelling yelling and the green and the cold and the nasty smell and –
danny looks up and it's not his mommy, not his daddy, not mr. walker. but a lady. she's different, he can tell, looks kind of like ms. spelka at his preschool classes except she wears red instead of blue and her eyes are green like mr. walker's. except this lady looks like a people-person, someone he would see at the grocery store with mommy, and she's got red hair and it makes his chest ache.
he misses jazzy lots.
"Hi. My name's Penelope. Can you tell me yours?"
she's got a pretty name and she talks real quiet so danny isn't scared, so he peeks out of his safetydarkfriend hiding place and looks because the coat will keep him safe. it has so far. pen-el-ope, he thinks, is super long, but there's a girl in his pre-school that's got the same name and they call her penny so that's what danny's gonna call this lady. danny blinks and the lady smiles and something in his head tells him that she's safe, she's friend, no hurt here.
"I'm not going to hurt you, sweetie. No one is going to hurt you."
there's no I promise there but danny can hear it, just under the nice-ness, and he whimpers because promises mean hurt and he forces his throat to work and says, please don't 'm sorry and he thinks he's made a mistake because talking means yelling, cutting, hitting, more needles –
something on penny's face changes, her smile sad, but there's no yelling. no screaming. he wants to cry because he's a very bad boy and this has to be a dream because bad boys don't have nice things happen and this lady is certainly nice, she looks too much like jazzy not to be and. . .
"No, honey. No one here will hurt you. Do you know where you are?"
this is a trick. a trick a trick a trickety trick and danny is not stupid, knows that he shouldn't fall for it, but she's so nice and her voice is very soft and she's letting him answer and there are no tables-needles-knives-bighands here so danny makes his neck move. back and forth and back again. hair waves in front of his eyes and it's white and that's not right because he's got dark hair like daddy? but the lady's smile widens, and he relaxes a bit even though the warning sirens are screaming danger!
"You're in a place called the Ghost Zone. This is. . . well, this is a facility run by a man named Walker. Do you remember Walker?"
walker – big man, black gloves, white skin, skull, funny voice. danny knows things, yeah, so he nods and she answers him –
"Good. Now, do you know why I've come to talk to you?"
no, danny doesn't know anything, doesn't know why anyone is here, why he's in this place instead of on the table so he shakes again, and it's like his neck doesn't remember how to do things anymore. it's like his body doesn't know how to do anything anymore and he wonders if he'll ever be able to play again, if he could ride a bike or watch cartoons with his legs over his head or play spaceman
he wants to play spaceman wants to use the big-boy 'zooka presses the button and everything's green and he screams
"I'm what's called a psychiatrist, sweetie. That's a doctor that helps people when they have problems in their mind, like what happens after something very bad happens to them. Walker called me because he thought you needed a little bit of help. Is that ok?"
oh. does this mean she can make his thoughts less jumbly, less scary, less runny? because that would be wonderful, would mean he can sleep again and not have nightmares. except. . .. is this even real? danny doesn't think it is because this has happened before, when mommy and daddy put needles in his arms and put lots of medicine in them and he'd fallen asleep, dreaming dreams that were so real he thought they were real, thought it was over, and then he'd woken up and the hurt had been worse.
he nods anyway.
the lady, penny, is very nice he thinks. because she doesn't get mad because he doesn't answer right away, doesn't get mad because he shakes and he squeaks and everything is hidden behind the coat. instead she smiles and danny thinks that it's a pretty sort of smile.
"Good. I'm going to ask you a couple of questions. They're not hard questions, so don't worry. Is that ok?"
not hard. not hard questions.
doesn't she know all questions are hard questions?
danny nods again, and he feels his legs moving, creeping underneath him, and his knees hurt. he rubs the edge of the collar with his fingers and the itching makes him a little less scared, a little less nervous, but these are questions and danny doesn't know. . .
I'm danny, mommy, please no, I'm telling the truth, I'm sorry sorry sorry please don't mommy that hurts!
"Alright, sweetie, the first question should be pretty easy. Can you tell me your name?"
his name? danny knows his name. daniel james fenton, after mommy's grampa and daddy's favorite uncle. except he doesn't think his throat will make that many words, doesn't know if he can make that much noise without being punished again, without being sent back to the lab, the table, the needles. and his throat still feels like he's been eating sand so he thinks that it'll hurt real bad when he talks. but miss penny has been really really nice and it's just his name, not hard at all, so danny pulls the coat tight and tries to be brave like batman and says danny. . ..
there's something real sad in miss penny's eyes and it makes his tummy feel yucky, like he'd been caught with cookies from the jar or with his body in the portal when he accidentally ripped bearbert. danny makes his knees work again, feels the bones click, feels the buzzing in his tummy move to his chest, vibrating behind the itchy scar and maybe this isn't a dream? because he feels things here and in the dreams he didn't really feel but mommy made lots of promises that still play around in his head, so danny doesn't want to trust it.
"Danny, can you tell me how old you are?"
he isn't expecting that and he makes a noise again and he shakes and he's sorry, but ms. penny just keeps smiling like mommy or mrs. foley used to, patient is what jazzy calls it, and she doesn't yell even though he keeps thinking she's going to. the shaking keeps happening even though it makes his teeth rattle and his bones shake and he pulls the coat further over him because it'll keep him safe, nice and quiet, spicy and warm unlike the ice sitting in his tummy and. . .
"I won't hurt you, sweetie. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
how old is he?
he tries to remember but his numbers feel all rusty and broken at the edges, like they're caught in a trap, and it takes a second to get them up. they taste wrong, like pennies, but then he remembers jazzy teaching him all about numbers while mommy and daddy worked in the lab, remembers the count on sesame street that helped him even though he was kinda scary.
danny swallows. more courage. and he says four. . .
there's another something on ms. penny's face and danny doesn't like it, makes his heart ache because she looks very very sad and he doesn't mean to make people sad, or mad, honest, doesn't mean to be a very bad little boy. he wants to make her feel better, but he's still not sure if she's really real or not. his brain likes to play tricks sometimes when the yelling isn't so loud, and this is the quietest it's been in a very long time.
he scoots closer, closer, and he thinks that ms. penny might stop him but she doesn't.
"Four?"
she says it like a question, like she's got to ask, and danny makes his head nod even though it aches all over and his muscles feel like they're filled with rocks. and the something comes back again, stronger, and it looks like she can't decide to be sad or mad or sadmad, and danny really hopes ms. penny will stay nice, that she won't be a dream, because he doesn't know what he'll do if he wakes up with straps-needles-knives-yelling again.
then ms. penny takes a deep breath through her nose like dr. studwell used to make him do and her smile comes back and danny dares himself to hope, to touch, to make sure. he's a very bad little boy, but maybe because he's trying so hard they'll be nice? he's scared and he doesn't want to be alone anymore, doesn't want anymore hurt, but what if? what if what if what if?
"You're an awfully big boy. Do you know when your next birthday is?"
birthday. birthday!
danny knows that! it's the day he gets cake and astronauts and party decorations, balloons and tucker and jazzy giving him kisses, and he even gets presents that he can open at the kitchen table,mommy and daddy don't go to the lab - !
he's strapped to a table and the lab is cold and mommy is screaming and daddy is hitting and he wants it to stop stop stop wants to die can't handle it mommy I'm sorry please don't
danny swallows, blinks. his eyes are aching, burning, and his mouth is filled with chalk but he remembers his birthday, and ms. spectra asked so nicely, so he's going to answer even if he stammers out M-m-May.
"Your birthday's in May?"
another nod that makes his head feel like it will fall off. danny gets closer. closer, closer, closer even though his mind is screaming at him run-getaway-gonnahurt-danger because he NEEDS to know that this isn't a dream, that he might be a bad boy but that something good is happening because he can't. . . he can't go back, won't go back, never ever not ever. and he thinks he might have gotten too close because ms. penny looks a little scared when she looks him in the eyes, like there's something wrong, and he wants to hide in his buddy the coat again.
then her eyes are soft again and she smiles at him, then frowns like she's curious, like jazzy used to, and danny thinks he might cry again because he thinks she even smells like jazzy a little, raspberries and cream, and he reaches out and . . .
he touches her.
his finger touches a cheek and it's warm and it's soft and it doesn't go through her and danny doesn't know what to think, what to feel, how? why? because she's real?
and ms. penny looks confused, eyebrows in a line over her eyes, and she asks him another question and this time the promises didn't hurt because these questions are easy.
"What do you mean, sweetie?"
danny can feel himself trembling, his lower lip quivering, and he wonders if jazzy would call him a baby or if she'd let him sleep in her bed because he had a nightmare but he doesn't want to ruin this so he has to ask again and even though it hurts he says you real? no dream?
his tummy goes queasy again because ms. penny looks like she's gonna cry too and danny doesn't want that, he's sorry, she's so nice, didn't mean to make her cry. but she's so warm and he's got his whole hand pressed against the side of her cheek and he wonders if he'll ever be this warm again.
"No, sweetie. I'm not a dream. You're safe now. No one else is going to hurt you."
and danny can't help it.
he just. . .
he can't. . .
he's shaking and he's cold and he's so tired of the hurt and he throws himself at ms. penny and squeezes her tight even though his arms are filled with rocks and his chest hurts and everything is upside down on its head. because you real, you real, you real!
she's warm and she's soft and she smells like jazzy even though her hair is too bright and ms. penny hugs him back, gentle, and she rocks him and bad little boys don't deserve to be this happy, but danny can't care because you real, you real, you real! and she presses her cheek against his and that's finally warm too, a hand against the back of his head. the something sticky is still on his cheeks but ms. penny doesn't seem to mind, not in the slightest, and her voice is very quiet when she talks against his ear.
"Shhh, sweetie. It's alright. I've got you. Everything's just fine."
danny wants to believe her. really, he does. he's so very very tired of hurt.
what have you done with my danny, ghost? where's my boy where's my danny you're a liar and then cutting pain pain pain mommy I'm sorry!
but. . .
"You're going to be just fine."
danny buries himself against her throat, clutches her until his fingers ache, and cries until he sleeps.
~*O*~
There were exactly two whole people in the entire Ghost Zone allowed to call Jeremiah Walker by his first name. The first person was Clockwork, if only because the sonuva gun was too strong for the warden to really argue against. He'd learned that the hard way his first couple months in the Zone – being stuck in a time-loop where you're getting punched again and again for three hours would make a message sink in.
The second person was Bullet, who had earned that right and was the closest thing Walker had to a friend since landing himself in this godforsaken nightmare. And there were still rules for when Bullet was allowed to address him so familiarly.
The point was, Walker did not let anyone address him by his first name. Ever.
"Jeremiah Walker, you better damn well listen to me!"
. . . except Spectra couldn't seem to take the hint.
It had taken nearly two hours to calm the little punk down from his panic, and he'd clung to the shade like a life-line throughout it. Surprisingly enough, Spectra had been incredibly patient throughout it, rocking him like she knew something and hushing out a load of reassurances that, admittedly, Walker didn't know they could keep up with. The Zone was a dangerous place. Black holes, Beast-ghosts, ecto-storms, criminals. You name it, it could happen, and he did not like making promises that he could not keep. It was a Rule.
But once the little brat had fallen asleep, still wrapped in his jacket (he'd have to get rid of it, too many ectoplasm stains) she'd gone and rounded on him.
And she hadn't shut up since.
"Watch yer mouth!" Walker snarled. "I ain't gonna tell you again! You're a smart woman, and I know you hold a conversation without profanity, so you'd better get yerself together 'fore I change my mind and lock y'all in solitary!"
Spectra's eyes flashed crimson again, and it came close to startling him when the emotiphage found it prudent to invade his personal space. She had to stand on tippy-toes to do it, but there was something about the look she shot him that was unsettling. A type of fury he was hard-pressed to deal with.
"I'll watch my goddamn mouth when you start listening to what I'm fucking telling you instead of acting like some disinterested cowboy fuckwit!" she hissed. "Danny can't stay here. He can't stay at my lair, either. It's too loud, too close to Ember's concert hall, and, frankly, I'd rather not let Bertrand get within a hundred feet of him. So, you've got exactly two options. First option: he lives in your lair and I stay with him until he's better or at least self-sustainable. Second option: you toss him out onto his PTSD riddled, half-dissected ass and that sweet little boy gets eaten alive in a minute. Your. Damn. Choice!"
Walker heard Bullet choke from somewhere behind him, and it was a miracle that the tension in his jaw hadn't shattered his teeth. He'd spent nearly eighty years as Warden of the Ghost Zone and not one time had anyone possessed the gall to talk to him like that. He didn't know whether to be infuriated or impressed.
Naturally, Walker chose the former.
He slammed a hand into the paneling beside Spectra's head, relishing the way she jumped in shock. Walker was a large man – as in life so in death – and his bulk was advantageous in situations like this. Looming over her, eyes narrowed, he leaned in even closer, crowding the petite woman until she was huddled against his office wall. Some people called intimidation tactics cowardly, old-fashioned, misogynistic.
Jeremiah Walker called them effective. . .
"I've just about had enough of that mouth of yours," he growled quietly. "And if y'all weren't the only thing keepin' that little boy t'gether, I'd 've had Bullet throw your skinny rear in solitary 'bout twenty minutes ago. But, see, we've both had a long day, 'n I'm feelin' generous. So I'm gon' give you one more warning. Watch. your. mouth. Or I might jus' forget our little deal and try to help the little punk m'self. Got me?"
Walker had seen Spectra angry on a number of occasions over the years. Always from a distance, never up-close and personal. But he'd figured that she had a wicked temper and the tongue to back it up. He was right.
But he didn't think he'd ever seen her quite this mad. At anyone. Ever.
And this was coming from a man who'd had her hog-tied and thrown in a burlap sack.
Spectra was shaking, high spots of color on her pale cheeks, and he was pretty sure that her stare alone could've caused a church to spontaneously combust. There were a couple of guards making bets. He'd heard Benson put twenty on the slippery little harlot. Thankfully, though, McCane retaliated with forty on the boss. Walker filed Benson's miniature treachery away for a later time and quirked an eyebrow at the woman he'd cornered.
"Well?" the warden drawled. "Y'all gonna answer me?"
Cords popped in Spectra's neck where her teeth were gritted, he could see a vein pulsing in her right temple. Wow, so maybe the stereotype about red-heads was true. . .
"Fine." The snarl that erupted from her was practically demonic. "I will watch my mouth, Warden. But I'm telling you right now, that little boy needs a quiet, stable place to live. You are the only one who can give him that. And if you're not willing to do that for him, I might as well walk out the door right now."
Well, if this one didn't have some pepper in her grits.
Walker stared at her for a long minute. Penelope Spectra was notoriously narcissistic, self- absorbed to a fault. There had to be an ulterior motive here other than blackmail. She was too adamant, too focused for it to be anything else. It probably had something to do with sucking all the misery she possibly could outta the little punk. But he'd gone and wedged himself between a rock and a hard place.
So he'd deal with that later.
Leaning back a fair distance, the warden crossed his thick arms behind his back, standing tall. "Fine. The boy can stay at my place until he's able to fend for himself. I've gotta spare room – kinda small, but 'm guessin' he don't need much space."
Spectra's entire body was still taut as a bow-string, and he could see the lingering rage glaring out at him from her eyes. But she managed to answer cordially. Without swears. So Walker considered it a small battle won.
"It shouldn't be a problem unless he has a claustrophobia trigger, which I highly doubt given that he's chosen to hide in your coat for most of the time." She stole a glance at Danny, who was still sleeping on the couch Walker kept in his office. "I'll need full access to him. He seems to trust me the most at this point, and I don't want to compromise that this early on."
"What do y'all mean by that?"
"Just what it sounds like: full access. I'll need to be able to reach him at any point during the day or night, no matter where you may be at the time. He's too fragile for anything less, and we don't know what could set off a panic attack."
Walker sighed and scrubbed at his face. "You wan' a key to my house."
"No," Spectra denied, shaking her head. "I'm saying that I'm going to live at your house until Danny is stable enough to not need me there."
It was a knee-jerk response. "No. Ain't nobody livin' in my house but me an' the brat. Y'all can have a key, but you ain't gonna live with me."
That look came back, full-throttle and burning, and Walker chastised himself for bringing her in for quite possibly the hundredth time that day. "You can moan and complain all you want, Tex. I'm staying with Danny, which mean I'm living with you. Deal with it."
He could hear the murmurs at the door get louder, more animated. Benson put another twenty on Spectra. Bullet and McCane pooled up to put thirty on him. Walker ground his teeth together – he'd have to go over the Rule on gambling again at tomorrow's staff meeting. Which was being moved up to 0500. Immediately.
"Rule Number Three: no one orders me around in my prison," Walker barked. "I'm tellin' you, it ain't happenin'! So y'all better figure out somethin' else to do 'fore my patience wears thin!"
"Of all the stubborn. . . !" Spectra threw up her hands and growled out something Walker couldn't make out, a sort of choke-off German sound. "How in the absolute hell does anyone work for you?! I'm not going to just kow-tow to you, Walker, so you might as well get this little tidbit through your thick skull: I'm not leaving Danny! You want to help him?! Then shove that idiotic Texas pride somewhere deep down where I can't see it and listen to me when I tell you something!"
It went quiet.
Very quiet.
Walker looked down at the finger Spectra had pushed into his chest, then back up at the woman it was connected to. She was panting hard, eyes a lurid shade of red, and the frustration on her face was almost tangible. Thick veins of black spider-webbed across her cheeks, down her throat, disappearing into the collar of her shirt and reappearing along her wrists. She trembled head-to-foot. Whether it was from pent-up frustration or nerves, he couldn't decide.
"You're somethin' else, you know?" Walker muttered softly. "Alright, fine. You can stay at my place until the punk isn't a nervous wreck anymore. But there are Rules in my house and you will follow them if you want to keep your sorry rear out of prison, ya hear?"
As she calmed down, the veins began to recede. Within a few moments, a pale, vaguely-annoyed Penelope Spectra stood in front of him. Her jaw was set, and he glanced down to see her hands shaking before she began twisting her left ring-finger.
Interesting. . .
"Whatever you say, Tex," she huffed. "We'd probably better go soon. The trip over there would probably terrify Danny more than just waking up in a new room. And he needs food, new clothes, and a bath."
Walker nodded.
"Bullet!" he barked. "You think you can get your hands on somethin' that'll fit the kid?"
His lieutenant, who had been watching their exchange with an open mouth and shocked eyes, shook himself out of his stupor. He drew upright, nodding. "Sure thing, boss. I'm sure the missus kept some of Tommy's old baby clothes. I'll be able to find somethin' that fits."
"Good. Get 'em an' meet me at my place, soon as ya can. Bring a couple outfits, some shoes, too, if ya got 'em."
Bullet saluted and rushed off without another word. Walker turned his attention to Benson and McCane. Both guards went still, likely coming to the sudden realization that their boss had heard every word they'd exchanged in the past several minutes. McCane grew stiff, posture perfect and jaw clenched. Benson had the decency to look ashamed.
Even though he'd won his bet.
"Benson, you're on latrine duty for the next month," the warden crooned lazily. "McCane, I want you to go up and tell Lieutenant Howard he's in charge for the rest of the day. Bullet will be taking over PT and runnin' the prison for the next couple weeks. Understand?"
Both men snapped out a salute. "Sir!"
They scrambled to get out the door before Walker could come up with a worse punishment.
Although, Bullet was infamously creative when it came to running PT drills. . .
The room was quiet again. On the couch, Danny let out a whimper in his sleep, tiny body curling tighter until all that could be seen was his fluffy white hair, still matted with dirt and ectoplasm. Spectra took a break from glaring daggers at him to glance at the little boy. Her expression softened just the tiniest bit, barely discernible if one wasn't looking.
"C'mon, then, sugar," Walker sighed. "We'd better head that way. Way I see it, kid's had too much happen to sleep for very long. An' I don' wan' 'im panickin' because we couldn' get it in gear."
If he could bottle that glare, it'd be the most effective riot-deterrent the Zone had ever seen. Spectra pushed past him, and he was again struck by how much smaller the shade was than him. For someone with such a big personality, she was pretty dang petite. Walker quirked an eyebrow as she bundled the little boy, expertly tucking the material of his jacket around the boy's thin limbs before scooping him up against her chest.
His questioning stare was met with defiance.
"Well, Tex, are you going to lead the way?" she taunted. "Or am I supposed to just wander around until I find your oh-so-elusive lair?"
"Don't call me that," Walker retorted.
"Don't call me sugar."
"I'll call you what I daggum well please."
"Then I guess we're stuck at an impasse Tex."
He could practically feel the pressure in his veins start to rise under her smirk, which had returned to its customary place. It wasn't right for someone to be this good at pushing his buttons. But here he was. And the worst part was, he had no one to blame but himself for it all, because Bullet had warned him.
Walker bit his tongue and jerked his head towards the back wall of the office. "Follow me. An' keep up! It's a bit tricky to find if you don' know what you're lookin' for."
He turned intangible, the familiar feeling of nothingness settling over his frame as he phased through the prison walls and into the Zone. The warden hooked a right once he'd cleared the perimeter, glancing back to make sure Spectra was keeping up with him. She was, not even complaining about the weight of the child sleeping against her.
It was when he turned back to see where he was going that he heard it.
"Of course it's tricky to find. Makes it more fun to get lost going to your own lair, right?"
Walker rolled his eyes, then his shoulders, and groaned.
This was going to be a long-haul. . . .
~*O*~
A/N:
Holy shit, two chapters? In two days? What the absolute fuck?!
To be honest, I was just super pumped about the response that the first chapter received, and as such decided to power through on the final touches to this chapter so I could go ahead and get it out to you. Thank you so very much for all the lovely praise, and I would love to hear more thoughts and possible theories (later) about what you guys think should happen further on! I can't guarantee I'll listen, but that's to be expected because I'm kind of a hard-headed bitch.
Like a couple of my characters, to be honest.
Anyway, to clarify a touch based on one of my lovely reviews, I will not be using time skips in this story. Or, if I do, they'll be much later on or only a week or so at a time. Nothing major. There's just too much context and healing to be done for such nonsense. So be prepared to sift through a bunch of rambling for a while because poor Danny is just. . . I love this child. Why do I do horrible things to him? Why? By all accounts, it doesn't make any sense.
But here we are.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this (very early) chapter. Be sure to leave me a review in the magic box at the crotch of the screen, and I'll see you at the end of the next chapter.
Maybe, they're kinda long and rambly and a little squicky.
BlackRosePoetry