danny holds tight to ms. penny and tries to remember to breathe as she carries him.
this place is different, big and open and there's no dark, no skaal-pulls, no yelling, but he doesn't really know what it will be like without all those things, doesn't know if he can remember how to breathe and how to speak words and how to not shake like his bones are coming apart. doesn't know what it's like not to be cold, not to hurt, not to stay quiet and not think and no, mommy, 'm sorry please don't!
they're walking down stairs now and danny tries to remember how to take them. jazzy always held his hand when he walked down the stairs and mommy always carried him and daddy would sometimes remember to help but sometimes he forgot 'cause he was silly like that no daddy please don't I'll be a good boy I promise no more hitting but if danny fell he always got fudge and flapjacks.
he twists his hands in ms. penny's shirt and it feels soft against his skin, warm, and his knuckles crack a bit. but she just holds him tight and hums in his ear and her voice is always very very quiet because she knows loud loud loud is very scary scary scary.
"Alright, big man, are you ready to eat? I bet your hungry."
danny's tummy makes a growl and it feels like it's trying to eat its way out of his skin, saying feed me feed me feed me and it's odd, because he hasn't felt hungry in so long, but now that he's here instead of in the lab he knows what it's like to be hungry again. his throat hurts and his head is confused but danny is trying to be a very good little boy so he nods, tells ms. penny the truth, and he can feel a kiss against the top of his head.
"Alright, then, let's see what Walker made for the both of us."
ms. penny keeps humming as she walks in another door and danny can smell something that makes his tummy do an angry growl and he's so hungry but he doesn't want to be rude, doesn't want to be a bad little boy because what if they send him back? what if they hurt him strap him to a table skaal-pulls in his chest coming at his eyes it hurts it hurts it hurts why mommy please stop it hurts decide they don't want him anymore like mommy and daddy did? it's a scary thought and danny has learned that the world is a scary place, but maybe if he just holds tight and keeps his face hidden he doesn't have to see it anymore.
danny thinks it's easier to be a good boy when you can't see.
"Y'all hungry, boy?"
walker is kind of a scary man but even though his face is grumpy and his voice is kind of mean he hasn't hurt danny yet, even gave him the coat, who is his best pal, so the least he can do is answer him. so danny takes his face away from ms. penny's neck and nods and the big man with his white scary face and his very dark hair smiles at him. and danny is surprised because when mr. walker smiles he's not quite so scary anymore.
"Good. I got some chicken noodle soup for ya. Put some meat back on your bones."
danny smiles and it feels rusty because that was something aunt alicia used to say. put some meat on yer bones, boy, eat some more soup, boy, and danny likes aunt alicia even though she's got her hair cut like a boy's and can beat daddy in arm wrestling. because she was always very nice to him, always gives him big hugs and bigger kisses and presents when she could. danny wonders if she thinks he's a bad boy too. if she would yell and scream and say mean things and make it hurt.
probably.
aunt alicia says mommy is always right, and mommy did those things, so she would too. danny's heart hurts.
ms. penny ruffles his hair and danny nearly startles, but her fingers aren't rough like daddy's or push like mommy's against the skin until it bruises. nope, they just play with his hair and it's kinda tickly and danny doesn't know what to think about that, doesn't know how to react because that's the way jazzy used to play with his hair when he figured out a puzzle piece or said his numbers in the right order or showed her his toy rocket for the first time.
danny is small and he is hungry and he hurts and he misses his sissy.
ms. penny kisses him on the cheek, puts him in her lap at the table, and danny thinks she would be a very good mommy. it makes him sad that she must be nice to a bad little boy like him.
he isn't very hungry anymore.
even though his tummy is growling at him like it's mad and ms. penny is trying to give him a spoon that look-smells wonderful. mommy used to give him spoons that he thought were food but they ended up burning his nose, his throat, his mouth, his tummy, and danny would cry and cry and cry because he would throw up until nothing happened anymore and it's right there and his tummy is hungry but he just. . .
"C'mon, sweetheart, it's chicken noodle soup. You'll love it, I promise."
he can't.
he can't.
danny wants to cry because ms. penny is being so nice to him, no yell no hurt no bad no skaal-pull, and he can't even eat soup that mr. walker must have worked very hard on and he's so stupid. a dumb little baby and he's very bad and he doesn't even deserve the soup and his tummy is screaming at him. . .
mr. walker takes the spoon and looks at him and danny listens.
"Here, kid. I'll take a bite first, and then you take a bite. Sound good?"
he is a big man with a scary face and his voice is grumpy but danny thinks that mr. walker is actually very nice after all. he makes his muscles work again, makes his head go up then down, and then the soup on the spoon is gone. and danny waits for the burning, waits for coughs and tears and throwing up until there's nothing left. but it never comes. mr. walker just smiles at him and gives him the spoon and danny realizes that it's not a trick, that's food in the bowl, and his tummy roars again and he reaches for it and is that his hand? it's so scary, all thin and shaky, and he can't even make the fingers work right to pick up a spoon and. . .
"Here, baby, can I help?
oh. help? was that something grown-ups did?
danny nods and he squirms until he's as far against ms. penny as he can go. and he opens his mouth and the spoon goes in and. . .
it's food.
it's chicken noodle soup, and that's danny's new favorite, because it's warm and it tastes like chicken and veggies and salt. he swishes it around in his mouth until he can't stand to not have it in his tummy anymore and it's so good. he wants another bite, please another bite, anything for another bite. he can feel ms. penny laugh against him and it rattles in his bones but in a nice way.
"Is that good?"
it is and danny opens his mouth for more and he can hear mr. walker chuckling. and ms. penny gives him another bite and he swishes swishes swishes it around and are those carrots? they taste like carrots and danny chews them and they are and he opens his mouth for another. and the grown-ups are talking but it sounds like they're stuck under water because all danny can think is more more more until suddenly his tummy is yelling at him for another reason and it's saying no no no. but danny doesn't want to stop, because it tastes so good but he has to listen to his tummy.
he doesn't like throwing up.
so danny shuts his mouth and turns his face back into ms. penny's neck and feels himself get sleepy. he's a very bad boy and those don't get sleep but boy he could sure use a nap. there's a hand on the back of his head, wrapped around his back, and it's gentle, doesn't hurt, and something soft is between his fingers. danny rubs it back and forth and back again. he thinks it might be ms. penny's shirt.
the grown-ups are still talking but his head hurts, and the words sound funny, like he's swimming in jell-o so danny doesn't try to understand, just keeps rubbing his fingers. back and forth and back again. his eyelids are heavy.
and then there's a knock at the door and . . .
knock knock knock and then there's big hands on his throat and a skaal-pull in his shoulder and danny is screaming for mommy and she doesn't listen, just laughs, and daddy hits him and oh no why can't he see? and it hurts, mommy, why are you doing this and knock knock knock then needles and there's something in his chest and he's cold and it's dark and
danny jumps even though he doesn't mean to, turns around with sawdust in his bones, and he wraps around ms. penny because what if they've come to take him away? he doesn't want to leave. and he's a very bad boy and he doesn't deserve all the nice things that happen and he's selfish but maybe if he holds on to ms. penny real tight then they won't make him leave. please no please no please no please no he doesn't want to go. . .
"Shhh, sweetheart, it's alright. You're okay. It's just the man who brought your clothes, baby."
brought his clothes? new clothes? thinks he remembers but not sure, wants to hold tight, wants to stay here and he can't go back, won't go back, and his throat keeps making noises even though it hurts and he can't hear ms. penny's heart, why can't he hear her heart? why why why there's nothing in his chest but it hurts anyway and he can't breathe!
"Big breath, sweetie. C'mon – breathe with me."
okay, he can do that. her chest rises against him and danny sucks air in, holds it, then it burns, and ms. penny's chest collapses and danny lets the air go and that burns too. in burn out burn in burn out burn. he can breathe even though it doesn't feel like anything but syrup, sticky and tasting a nasty kind of sweet on his tongue and his bones are
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in his head, crack crack cracking in his ears and danny doesn't know what's going on, so he holds tight to ms. penny and hopes, no, prays that no one will take him from here.
then there's a hand against his head and it's small and it's soft and familiar.
danny stops thinking.
"Y'all have a key, Bullet. Didn' hafta knock."
mr. walker sounds a little miffed but danny doesn't understand why he's talking to a bullet because daddy had showed him one of those and they didn't talk back. and then there's another voice, another man, and danny holds tighter and he thinks his fingers are going to break, thinks they're going to snap right off because he's squeezing ms. penny so tight.
"Sorry, boss. I didn't think about startling the kid – you're usually just so damn picky about your privacy."
more people. gonna hurt? danny doesn't know but ms. penny is rubbing the back of his head, cheek against him, and she's whispering. he thinks that mr. walker answers the man he called bullet but his ears are full of cotton and he's too busy trying to keep from shaking apart to pay attention. then ms. penny is talking and her voice is very quiet, but she doesn't sound as nice when she's not talking to danny and, oh no, the other man sounds like he's making fun of her and danny just. . .
does that hurt, little ghost? is it too much? aww, poor baby, thinks it can get away with taking my boy from me but I promise that you won't last much longer because you're going to tell me where danny is, going to break. I will hunt you down I will tear you apart I will make you hurt, ghost, you're nothing and you will bring me my baby back I promise
ms. penny has stopped talking to the man and she kisses him on the temple and she smells like jazzy, raspberries and cream, and danny feels like he can breathe again. his fingers relax and they're cramping and his legs feel like jell-o from where they were squeezed around her waist and ms. penny keeps a hand against the back of his head, fingers through his hair, and danny feels himself go limp. he stops shaking.
he doesn't have the energy anymore.
danny thinks that being four is very hard and he hates being such a bad boy, wants to be a good boy, because things like this don't happen to good boys. good boys don't hurt and good boys don't get strapped to tables with skaal-pulls in their shoulders and fingers in their eyes and. . .
ms. penny starts to whisper to him, rocking back and forth and back again.
"Shhh, baby, it's okay. You're going to be just fine. Big breaths, sweetheart. That's my boy. I've got you. You're safe."
danny presses his face into her neck and tries to make himself believe her. he thinks it's very hard to do that. she makes promises and promises hurt. and he doesn't know if he'll ever figure out what he did to become such a very bad boy. but maybe. . . she hasn't hurt him and her voice is very quiet and she smiles at him so maybe ms. penny can make promises not hurt anymore.
ms. penny and mr. walker are talking again. his head hurts. he doesn't try to listen anymore.
then there's a laugh and. . .
daddy laughs and laughs and laughs and danny tries to tell him that he's not lying but daddy's laugh isn't nice anymore, not like it used to be, and his grin is mean and daddy's hands are big as they hit him in the chest and something cracks and no no no it hurts, daddy, please stop!
something trickles down his throat and it tastes like dirty pennies because danny makes a noise. he doesn't mean to. but laughing is bad when it isn't ms. penny and laughing means hurt so danny holds tight and hides his face and tries to brace himself for the hitting-screaming-skaal-pulls.
they never come and instead ms. penny rocks him some more and kisses his cheek and danny doesn't know what to think of any of this. it makes his brain all fuzzy, and even though his tummy is full, it aches and he doesn't. . . he can't. . .
his eyes are leaking and they ache and he wants to stop being scared, please, just for a second.
then ms. penny is moving, and it's like what danny thinks flying would be like, because she doesn't bump him or make anything hurt or nothin' and he wraps his fingers in her hair and it's soft, feels like jazzy's except the color's all wrong and his heart hurts a little. he wants to go home but he doesn't want to go home and everything's a mess and it's all his fault.
danny keeps his face hidden until suddenly ms. penny is setting him down and he doesn't like that, no no no, he'll be a good boy, honest, just please don't leave don't leave don't leave!
"Hey, hey, hey! It's alright! I've got some pjs here for you, baby. Don't you want to see what they look like? They've got rocket ships and stars on them!"
stars?
danny likes stars, likes how far away they are and how they twinkle, and one day when he's very big and not so bad he wants to get in a rocket ship and fly away. he'll live on a star and nothing will ever hurt again and he'll be a cool captain like Captain Kirk on Star Trek.
but what if it's a trick? a lie? a where is my danny I'll make you hurt give you drugs make you suffer?
no.
ms. penny won't do that.
she won't.
and danny opens his eyes and looks and there they are, space pjs, and they have rockets on them just like ms. penny said. danny reaches out and he traces one and the pjs are soft under his fingers, and he thinks they look so nice and he can't help but wonder why ms. penny and mr. walker are so nice to him. he made mommy and daddy hate him when they loved him lots, so why don't they?
it's all very confusing and danny's head hurts so he just smiles even though it feels like his cheeks are split wide open and keeps tracing the ship.
"Do you like them?"
danny nods because they're amazing and ms. penny says they're his.
it's been a very long time since he's been allowed to wear pjs.
there's another kiss on his cheek and he's being carried again and ms. penny is humming. she's got a pretty voice. it makes him sleepy.
"Okay, so he's a meat-headed idiot, but apparently his wife has good taste. The space pjs were a hit."
mr. walker says something and danny realizes they're in a bathroom and didn't ms. penny say something about taking a bath earlier? doesn't know. too tired. head hurts.
"Alright, quit jawin' an' let's get to washin'. I'd like to go to bed 'fore tomorrow mornin'."
he's got such a funny way of talking but danny kind of likes it, the way it turns up at the edges and makes the words sound long. aunt alicia talks like that. except her r sounds are different and they don't growl quite so much.
ms. penny sits down and danny thinks he's finally going to get to sleep and then she starts to pull him away. no no no no please don't, let him stay, he'll be very. good. he'll try so hard. honest honest he means it, ms. penny, don't make him leave. . .
his chest is tight and there's something on his cheeks again and danny doesn't know if he's going to just cry or scream until everything falls apart. but then ms. penny smiles at him and her thumbs wipe at his cheeks and they come back green again, but she's talking and danny just can't do it anymore, so he relaxes and listens.
"Shhh, sweetie, it's alright. We have to give you a bath, and we can't do that if you're stuck to me like a monkey, now, can we?"
danny takes a deep breath. it burns. but he shakes his head and ms. penny's smile gets a bit wider.
"Now, is it okay if we take this jumpsuit off? Then we can get you all clean and in your new pjs. How does that sound?"
danny thinks it sounds too good to be true. but he nods his head because ms. penny asked very nicely and his jumpsuit is sticky when they try to take it off and it pulls on his scars and that hurts but ms. penny and mr. walker always say they're sorry, and they're very gentle and then danny is being put into an actual tub and. . .
it's warm.
it's been so long since he's been warm.
the water is warm and there's dirt and some green stuff coming off of him, and it makes little swirls on the top of the water. the patterns are kind of pretty. and even though mr. walker's face looks like he's very very sad-mad about something, danny is too tired to make any sense of it and there's a boat in the water. it looks just like his. red and yellow and blue and he tries to remember the sounds a tug-boat makes.
tug-a-tug-a-toot maybe?
his throat won't make the sounds. but he plays and he's got toys and this is. . . he doesn't even know anymore.
ms. penny puts something rough on his back and it tingles and kind of burns and danny flinches. but she keeps talking to him and her voice is very quiet and danny realizes she's just washing him. the water is getting all dirty. it's not so clear anymore. not even the bubbles are white. and mr. walker helps scrub his arms and he's very careful around where mommy used to stick the needles in, and then they try to wash the letter on his chest, the big scar that aches and aches and aches and danny flinches, he can't help it.
but they keep trying and are very gentle, ms. penny talking the whole time, and soon there's hands on his head, someone telling him to keep his eyes closed why they feel so empty so achy so leaky? and there's shampoo running over his cheeks. there's a cut near his temple and the soap burns it but it's a good kind of burn, danny thinks, because he's actually getting clean.
he will never be mad about bath time again.
they rinse and they rinse and they rinse and then ms. penny tells him that he can open his eyes again, and he gets wrapped in a very fluffy towel that feels like a cloud and he feels so clean. he doesn't remember when he was last allowed to be this clean.
"Good job, Danny. You were so very, very brave, big man. I'm so proud of you."
she's. . . she's proud of him?
danny knows he's a bad boy, knows he shouldn't be allowed nice things like tug-boats and baths and space pjs. but ms. penny doesn't seem to care and she's proud of him and it makes his chest feel all tingly and his head feel all confused and he can't seem to do anything but smile even though his cheeks feel all wrong and his temples ache and his head is
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down the river.
mr. walker and ms. penny help him into his new pjs and they're soft cotton and they don't tug at his scars and they don't rub very hard and danny doesn't think he's ever going to be able to stop smiling. his finger traces a rocket and he thinks that it looks too skinny but he's too scared to look in the mirror 'cause his hair had been white in the tub and that's not right. so it's better to not see and not know and just look at his rockets.
rockets are nice.
"Do ya like 'em, kid?"
mr. walker usually scares him when he talks, but danny is too happy to care. so he looks up and keeps smiling. and mr. walker's face kinda looks like a skull still, all white and glowing, but when he smiles it's not so scary. not so scary at all.
"Tommy liked rockets when he was your age. Liked stars an' space. Maybe we'll go out and I'll teach ya 'bout constellations sometime."
there's something warm in his chest and in his tummy and danny nods again, can't stop smiling, and ms. penny hugs him.
maybe. . .
"You've had a long day, little man. Why don't we go to bed? We'll find you a teddy bear and read you a bedtime story. How does that sound?"
danny sniffles, smiles, nods.
ms. penny hums as she takes him to bed, says they'll read him a story and find him a teddy bear and they do, a fluffy gray one with big eyes that he squeezes tight, and danny falls asleep against her, mr. walker reading in his very rough voice.
maybe. . .
he's not a bad boy after all?
~*O*~
Penelope closed the door to Danny's bedroom and fought the urge to scream, swear, and punch someone very hard in the face.
In that goddamn order.
"If I ever find whoever did that to the kid, I'm fucking murdering someone," she muttered. "Jesus Christ, I don't even like kids. What the fuck is this nonsense?"
"How many times am I gonna have to tell you to watch yer mouth? Lord Almighty, it ain't punctuation!"
Okay, for someone that large and with that much of a need to step into everyone's business, he was far too good at sneaking up on her. Penelope startled, only just managing to avoid making noise before rounding on the warden. Or, at least, she had intended to round on the warden. Her mind went a little bit (or a lot of bit) blank instead.
He was leaning in the doorway, face contorted in its usual scowl, arms crossed. Except he wasn't in his suit anymore. Walker was wearing pajamas. A pair of loose flannel bottoms in red, white, and blue plaid and a fucking tank top. His hair was dark and loose, longer at the top and close-cropped on the sides. She hadn't noticed how thick it was until, you know, he was lounging in the door to her room like some kind of sadistic, swear-hating wraith. . .
"What, y'all lost that smart mouth of yers? Have I broken ya?"
Walker was sneering now, and he uncrossed his arms and, holy shit, his biceps were the size of her fucking head.
Alright, that's enough of that, bitch, you're making yourself look bad.
Penelope ground her teeth together and stepped towards where the warden stood.
"No. I just didn't know you anything other than a three-piece suit from the '20s," she snapped. "Now would you kindly get out of the door of my room? I need to change and swear in peace."
Rolling his eyes, Walker pushed off the wall and, oh holy hell, she was in trouble. His muscles rippled. What the fuck kind of man had muscles that legitimately rippled?! How fucking dare he be chiseled and obnoxious! It wasn't fair – this game was rigged. She was filing a complaint with. . . she didn't know who she'd complain to, but someone had just acquired themselves a new asshole.
"I'll leave y'all to change. But I need ta go over house rules with ya. Meet me in the kitchen when you're decent."
It was not a question. Or a polite request. Or even a suggestion. Walker growled it out as an order, and this may have been his house, but that was just plain rude.
Penelope rolled her eyes and stomped into the bedroom. And she did not watch the way Walker's stupid shoulders rolled as he made his way towards the stairs, fuck you very much. She had her dignity, dammit.
The door closed with a quiet snik! and she scanned the room a bit more closely than she had at first glance. She hadn't noticed how well thought-out everything was, how well-arranged the furniture was. It wasn't excessively large; however, Walker had thought to maximize the space. Bed length-wise next to the wall. Dressers built into their own alcoves. No excessive clutter.
Dammit, she was respecting him and that was not how this game went.
Penelope scowled. Swore. Then proceeded to search the room from top to bottom looking for her suitcase because Bullet was a fucking nuisance. She should've stabbed him. With a fucking spoon. Maybe took out his other eye. Oh, well, tasks for later. Delegation of time was important, and right now Danny took priority.
Eventually, she managed to find her things stuffed in the far corner under the bed, and she conveniently "forgot" the no-powers rule to phase the damned thing through the mattress. Forget giving Walker to Klemper – Bullet was going head-first through that door. Grumbling quiet curses to herself, Penelope was none too gentle in ripping open the heavy suitcase that Bertrand had, apparently, packed for her.
Of course he had.
Penelope tried to ignore the surge of dread in her stomach and rifled through the mountain of clothes in the case, eventually coming across her favorite tank and a pair of thick green pajama pants. She pulled them on and didn't stop swearing the entire time. Because of fucking course Bertrand had remembered all her favorites, had packed everything she would possibly need neatly and correctly. Had gotten all her toiletries put together in record time.
All with a subtle I'm watching you resting just under the surface.
"Of fucking course," Penelope muttered, viciously running a comb through her hair as she did so. "Can't forget that he's always fucking watching, Penny."
Goosebumps ran up and down her spine. She brushed them off, straightened her tank top – decided to leave the bra on for now, couldn't scandalize him that badly yet – and stalked downstairs. The house was quiet. But not the eerie sort of quiet she was accustomed to from the rest of the Zone. This was the kind of quiet found more normally in the human world, in the places where stars dotted the skies and houses had miles of land between them.
She wondered how he'd managed to replicate that.
Stepping into the kitchen, Penelope fully expected to be detained like she would be in the prison. Walker sitting and glaring at the table, hands folded, posture statue-stiff.
What she got was Walker kicked back in a chair, a half-empty bottle of scotch and a tumbler with ice sitting in front of him. The second one was already close to gone. It was a miracle the damn thing hadn't shattered with the force of his grip.
"Have a seat," the warden growled. "Y'all drink bourbon?"
. . . okay so he couldn't be that bad. Still an asshole, sure. But not all bad.
Penelope snatched up the tumbler and tossed the ice down the drain. Then she sat down, poured two fingers worth of booze, and took a long pull. It burned like hellfire. But bourbon tended to do that, so she just powered through until the glass was empty.
Walker was staring like she'd grown a second head.
"What?" Penelope snapped. "Never seen a woman drink before?"
"Yer liver must've hated you," the warden snorted. "That stuff's enough ta knock me flat on my rear. Y'all shouldn't 'a been able to knock it back like ya did."
She rolled her eyes and poured another finger. "Yeah, well, here the hell we are. Now, get on with these rules you're so damn fond of. I want to go to bed."
Walker visibly bristled. But he didn't say anything about her language. So that was. . .
"Yer deliberately pressin' my buttons, but we've both had a long day, so I'll let this 'un slide. For now."
Shit.
"Now, most of my rules in the house are fer the kids," Walker drawled lazily, taking a long pull on his drink. "Keeps 'em safe, keeps me sane. Came up with the 'no powers in the house' one when Ember nearly burned the place down."
Okay, that she understood. Penelope nodded, savoring this glass instead of just downing it. Her head was already light. Didn't need a hangover tomorrow. Not with Danny still so fragile.
"Then why the hell do I have to follow them?" she griped. "I'm a grown woman."
"Exactly!" Walker growled. "You're an adult and you will lead by example. Or I'll beat it in yer head 'til you do."
Penelope rolled her eyes for about the thousandth time that day. "Like I didn't know that already," she grumbled. "Fine, whatever, just tell me the damn rules so I can go to sleep."
Again, she expected a growl. Disapproval. Furrowed eyebrows and a scowl that would make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. What she got was a man staring into the bottom of his glass, eyes glazed and shoulders hunched. A hand running through his thick hair until it stood in tufts. His fingers were shaking.
Penelope couldn't blame him. Not one bit.
"How the hell are we supposed to sleep?" Walker croaked. "How the hell. . . ?"
"Don't." Penelope took another long pull. "Just don't. We'll be here all goddamn night."
Walker nodded. Gulped down another mouthful of bourbon. "Yer right. Shouldn' go down that road. Ain't nothin' but bad down that 'un." He cracked his neck and she watched the cords of muscle. "Ya already know the first rule."
Penelope snorted. "Let me guess: no swearing?"
"See? Y'all can remember it. Why don'tcha follow it?"
"'cause it's fuckin' stupid. Next rule."
This time, he growled just like she wanted him to. Wait, wanted him to? Shit, she was getting drunk. Damn bourbon. . . Kryptonite for alcoholics was what it was. Not that she was an alcoholic. She was Irish, dammit, they were supposed to be able to hold their liquor.
All she was holding was a half-empty tumbler and the idea that his arms were yummy.
"No powers in the house."
"Got that, next."
"Everyone eats at the table, and no one leaves until everyone's done. Keeps us all together in one place, least three times a day."
Made sense. Required communication. "Alright, I can do that as long as you aren't being a moron. Next."
"Knock before entering a room, even if the door is open. You eat what's put in front of you, even if you ain't particular to it. Bedtime is nine, not eight. You respect other people, and yer language should reflect that – that includes back-sass. An' the most importan' rule of all is no lying. We tell the truth in this house. Lyin' don' bring nothin' but trouble."
Lying doesn't bring anything but trouble, Penelope, especially when you're lying to me.
There was something cold running down her spine, and the tumbler in Penelope's hand shattered, ectoplasm and bourbon spilling all over the table. She cursed, loudly, and came close to tumbling out of the chair. But before she could do much (besides swear) Walker was around the table, wrapping a towel around her hand, and dragging her to the sink.
"God Almighty, woman, you tryin' ta give me a coronary?!"
No, she hadn't been. But she'd been caught off-guard and slightly drunk by the last rule and shit just kind of happened. Thankfully, Penelope had consumed enough alcohol to take the edge off her pain. But it still stung like a motherfucker. And her drunk ass couldn't focus on anything except the way Walker's biceps rippled under his skin.
"Well, thank y'all for the compliment, but do I wanna know why ya shattered one of my glasses?"
Shit, had she said all that out loud?
"Yeah, ya did, sugar. I think y'all need to go to bed. Sleep it off."
Penelope scowled and, no, she did not focus on how gentle he was when he pulled the glass out of her hand. The wounds sealed quickly – she wasn't going to bleed out – but Walker made sure to run his fingers over where they used to be, just to be sure that everything was alright.
"Your hands are so rough."
She couldn't stop herself.
Shockingly enough, Walker laughed. "They ain't for modelin', that's for sure! I use 'em to work with. Get a job done – don't have to look good while you're doin' it."
Shit – his laugh was hot.
That wasn't even remotely fucking fair.
Penelope jerked her hand away from the warden, rubbing at the spot he'd held to get rid of the tingly sensation left behind. "Thanks, Tex. But if you don't have any more rules, I'm going the hell to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
She had never managed to drunk-escape a room without flying so fast in her fucking afterlife.
It didn't make listening to Walker chuckle any easier.
~*O*~
Walker cleaned up the mess that Spectra had left behind and tried not to grin.
The woman might've been about thirty-thousand different kinds of a pain in the rear, but Lord if she wasn't a funny drunk. The mouth on her! He'd never heard anything like the blue-streak she'd let out when the tumbler shattered, and considering he'd lived with Johnny for nearly three years, that was saying something.
Still, it was a little concerning that she'd done it right as he'd gone into the rule about lying.
Humming in thought, the warden swept the shards into a plastic bucket before throwing the whole thing in the trash. Spectra was many things but, up to this point, he'd never really thought about why she was all those things. And, to a degree, it had never really mattered until the moment her fist had clenched hard enough to push glass through her palm.
Walker took the bottle off the table and trudged over to the liquor cabinet, putting the offending liquid back in its proper spot before locking everything up tight. It was routine, and going through the motions of it all soothed him.
Maybe it had been about Danny. Indignity at the insinuation that she'd lie to him. Or maybe it was something else. Her expression had shut down earlier when Bullet had mentioned that blobby little fool Bertrand. He couldn't blame her. Spectra had a reputation, but Bertrand had been around for much longer than her, skulking in corners and weaseling his way through the seedier parts of the Zone. Thinking about some of the rumors surrounding that little creep made Walker shudder.
God, he shouldn't have drug out the bourbon.
He was thinking nonsense again.
Walker ground his teeth, making sure all the ectoplasm had been scrubbed away before shutting off the lights and heading up to bed. He was exhausted. Worn to a frazzle and pushed to the edge of his patience and anxious for a kid the likes of which he'd never seen before. But he just knew he wasn't going to sleep at all tonight.
Or for several nights, actually.
He just kept picturing those scars, raised and ropey and livid against that little boy's skin. Ribs and vertebrae and hollow, empty eyes. A smile that didn't believe it deserved any form of decency.
Everything settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach, and Walker couldn't let this one go.
Johnny had had a daddy that liked to beat his momma. Ember's boyfriend had cheated, so she'd gone and set herself on fire to make him remember what he'd done. Youngblood had died in a car-crash, clutching his puppy Bones to his chest. Finding out about each one had set his teeth on edge.
But nothing could have prepared him for this.
Walker made it up the stairs, still scrubbing a hand down his face, when something caught his attention. A sound. Quiet, just on the edge of his hearing. But familiar to someone who'd ever heard it before. The warden turned and headed towards the end of the hall, knocking gently before opening the door to Danny's room.
The little boy was sitting up in bed, curled at the very end and rocking himself, wrapped up tight in his blankets. Walker caught just the barest hint of green peeking out at him. But he could visibly see Danny shaking, his thin frame trembling with nerves. He could hear how ragged the kid's breathing was from the doorway, how close he was to hyperventilating.
Keep your voice quiet, ask permission, don't touch him if he doesn't want you to. Rules of Engagement – the Danny Edition.
"Danny? Punk, you alright?"
Danny let out a tiny squeak. The shaking got worse.
Walker entered the room quietly and sat on the floor, far enough away that the kid didn't feel crowded but close enough to take action if he needed to. Danny peeked out at him through the blankets. His eyes – eye sockets? – shone brightly in the dark.
"Y'all have a nightmare, kiddo?"
The tremors slowed to something much less concerning, and Danny managed a slight, jerky nod. Walker propped his elbow up on a knee, watching carefully.
"Want me to stay in here until you can go back to sleep?"
Danny's head poked out from under the blankets, and his white hair stuck out in about ten different directions. It would've been comical if his expression wasn't so dang hopeful. The little boy nodded again, scooting a bit closer to where Walker was sitting. The floor was cool, and his rear was going numb, but it didn't particularly matter. Because this kid needed him to be here, needed to have someone in his corner.
If no one else in the Zone would be in his corner, Jeremiah Walker would.
"Alrighty, then. Y'all want me on the floor or in the bed? It don't matter to me."
Please say floor. Please say floor. Please say floor.
Danny swallowed, and Walker watched his little throat work convulsively. It looked painful. Very painful.
"Sleep bed? I be good, promise."
Dangit.
Walker nodded and stretched a bit, mentally preparing himself for the horrendous pain in his spine come morning. "Alright, punk. Scoot over some, I don't wanna squish ya."
The bunks were extra long just for this reason. Well, it had also come in handy with Johnny and Ember, seeing as how they'd been teens when they'd formed. But Youngblood – Taylor, to anyone with a lick of sense – had suffered horrific nightmares, old enough to remember the exact incident that lead up to his death. Walker had spent many nights in these beds, bony knees and elbows pressed into his ribs and a kid breathing down his neck.
Danny pressed himself so far against the back wall it was a miracle he didn't force himself right through it.
"Here, kiddo. Y'all don' have ta go quite that far." Walker let the boy move at his own pace, fighting the urge to close his eyes and snore until the heat-death of the universe. "Sleep where you're comfortable. You got enough blanket?"
It took a moment or two, but Danny was eventually curled tightly under his arm, face hidden and trembling against his chest. Walker cupped his hand to the back of the boy's head, gently ruffling his fluffy white hair.
"You're gonna be just fine, punk," Walker whispered. "I ain't goin' nowhere. No one's gonna get you here. Alright?"
Danny hiccupped. Nodded. Eventually, after what had to have been an hour, the boy drifted off to sleep. He'd curled into a ball facing away from Walker. But the warden's fingers were clutched tight in a little hand, the boy's thin face pressed so tightly in his bicep that nothing could be seen but just the edge of a jagged cheekbone and an ear, a bit over-large. It struck him then, a lead punch to the diaphragm.
This was a baby.
Johnny had come to him with scars on his knuckles and gaps in his teeth, remnants of street fights and beat-downs with his daddy. Had come to him with jaded eyes and a nasty cigarette addiction, a need to reject other men so strongly it bordered on desperate. Had come to him with a shadow that created bad luck and a love for motorcycles that ran deep enough to help Walker break through. Johnny had been eighteen.
Ember had come to him with a black eye and a broken heart, a need to be recognized and remembered that would never leave her. Had come to him after setting herself on fire with nothing but a wicked temper and an electric guitar. Had come to him with a mean-streak wider than her backside and a chip on her shoulder only fixed after about two years of dedication. Ember had been sixteen.
Taylor – Youngblood, it didn't matter the moniker – had come to him with bucked teeth, two missing limbs, and a spirit so ornery it'd put a mule to shame. Had come to him with nightmares and defiance and practical jokes, a loud mouth his mama should've washed out with soap. Had come to him wary and imaginative and bold and everything that a little boy could possibly be, grew to be self-sustaining even though he still liked to sleep-over every now and again. Taylor had been ten.
But Danny?
Danny was small and scared and scarred. Had come to him with no eyes and no voice, nothing but the ragged jumpsuit on his back and abject terror in his chest. He hadn't had time to get scars on his knuckles, to form a chip on his shoulder, to have a smart mouth. Danny was four years old and he died and what the heck was Walker supposed to do to fix that?
The warden clenched his jaw and stared at the bunk above him.
Y'all better pray that I don't find you. . .
Spectra had suspected that it was his parents. That it was the people the little boy was meant to love and trust the most.
This is my boy now. . .
Danny shuddered in his sleep, curled in on himself tighter. Walker shushed him gently, let the little body tuck further into his chest and cling tight. The air was silent except for the sound of breathing. Harsh and loud in his ears.
I'll kill you for hurtin' him. . .
"You're gonna be jus' fine, kiddo."
I promise.
"Just fine."